Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “What is this?” he hissed. “A beaten wench?”

  At the sound of his voice, the woman seemed to rouse. Her head came up and when her eyes met with Jamison’s, they widened. His widened. It took Jamison a split-second to realize he was looking at Madeline.

  Sweet Jesú… Madeline de Llion had finally been found.

  Gagged and bound, Madeline began to squeal and Horace slammed the door in Jamison’s face. In fact, he nearly hit him in the nose in his haste, which thoroughly upset Jamison. More than that, he was horrified by what he had just seen. It was a struggle not to react to it. He didn’t want to show too much emotion, fearful that Horace might wonder why he was so agitated and he didn’t want to give anything away, not at this stage.

  But inside, he was reeling.

  “Keep her quiet,” Horace whispered loudly. “She’s a noisy one. She’ll wake the whole place if ye dunna keep her gagged.”

  Jamison’s heart was pounding against his ribs as he struggled to stay on an even keel. “Where… where did ye find her?”

  Horace’s dark eyes twinkled in a sickening fashion. “I bought her,” he said. “The wench is English. She is the one who told us about Four Crosses. I bought her but I will give her tae ye. I’ve had me fill of her. She’s a bit skinny for me tastes but ye may think otherwise. She might be prettier if she cleans up a bit, but know that she’ll take ye in any hole ye want tae put it in. She makes up for whatever she lacks in appearance that way.”

  He winked lasciviously and the urge to throttle the man swept Jamison. But he kept his fists clenched behind his back. Still, dark and dirty hatred filled his mind, knowing what the man had done to Madeline.

  “So ye treat her like an animal,” he said, his voice tight with rage.

  But Horace didn’t sense the rage. He was thinking about the food waiting for him back in the common room. “She is an animal,” he said, moving away from the door. “Have yer fill of her, Man Mountain. Let yer friends have a little when ye’re done.”

  He fled before Jamison could say another word, heading out to the common room where there were more things of interest for him. Jamison immediately opened the door to the small chamber, shutting the door quietly behind him and bolting it. He went straight to Madeline, kneeling down beside the chair and reaching out to remove her gag.

  “If I remove the gag, ye canna make a sound, Madeline,” he whispered urgently. “Do ye understand?”

  Madeline had started to cry, weeping through the gag. She was saturating it with saliva and tears. Jamison had his hand on the cloth, fingering the knot it had been tied into behind her head, but he hadn’t removed it yet. He wanted to make sure she understood to remain quiet.

  “Madeline, please,” he said softly. “I’ll remove this for ye but ye must promise me ye’ll not cry out. If ye do, I’ll have tae put it back again. Do ye understand, lass?”

  Lass. He’d called her that before and it had inflamed her. Much as she used to call him Gael and it inflamed him. Words both of them had hated, meant to taunt one another in days past. But she didn’t seem to react to the term she’d professed to hate and, taking a chance that she wouldn’t scream, he untied the gag and removed it. Spitting, sputtering, she began to cry deep, heart-wrenching sobs.

  “I’m sorry,” she shrieked softly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please help me, Jamison. Please.”

  He felt a huge amount of pity for her. This girl who had betrayed her own family and who had been nasty and aggressive the entire time he had known her now looked like a lost child. No more arrogance, no more aggression. It was a pathetic sight.

  Looking her over, Jamison could see that she was badly bruised. Her face was bruised, both ears purple, and her nose had a bump in the middle of it, dried blood around one nostril. Gently, he untied her bound wrists before lifting his hands and cupping her face, turning her from side to side to get a better look at the damage. It was extensive. He could only imagine how badly her body was abused. It made him ill to think on it.

  “Ye needn’t worry now,” he said softly. “No one will lift a hand tae ye again, I swear it. Are… are ye hurt bad elsewhere?”

  She simply nodded, hanging her head in shame even as he tried to inspect the damage. “I ran away,” she sobbed, talking quickly and fearfully. “Amaline released me because I forced her to. I was afraid of having my head cut off by Lord de Lohr. Then I ran to find Evon’s men because… because you killed Evon. I wanted to make them hate you, Jamison. I truly did.”

  He knew all of that. “Better men than those rebels hate me,” he said, trying to make light of it. “And I killed Evon because he was going tae kill yer sister. I couldna let that happen.”

  Madeline nodded. “I know,” she sniffed, eyeing Jamison as he tilted her head to get a look at the bruising on her neck. “But… I loved him. I thought Evon and I were going to be married. He promised me that we would marry as soon as Four Crosses was captured and that we would command the fortress together. He told me… he told me he loved me, too. He told me so many things and, like a fool, I believed him. Do you know what I discovered? That he already had a wife. His brother told me that Evon had been married for two years!”

  She was weeping again, ashamed and so very sorry for her actions, but Jamison couldn’t bring himself feel complete and utter sympathy for her. Her actions and the results were of her own doing and from what he’d seen, she had been very cold-blooded in the way in which she had defended her sister from Evon. That wasn’t something he could really forgive, not with Havilland involved.

  But no matter how he felt about the girl, it didn’t stop him from feeling pity for her in the way she had been treated by the Welsh. She was battered, bruised, and abused, and purely out of respect for Havilland, he would tend to her. He had a feeling Havilland would have wanted him to. No matter what the woman had done, she was still Havilland’s sister. What he did, he did for the woman he loved and for no other reason than that.

  “Life brings about difficult lessons at times,” he said simply. There wasn’t much more to say to the very harsh lesson she had learned. “I’m going tae get some hot water and wash away some of this blood. I’ll send for a physic as well.”

  In a panic, she reached out and grasped him with her bloodied fingers. “Nay,” she breathed. “Please do not leave me! He will come back!”

  He patted her hands. “Not tae worry,” he said. “Bolt the door from the inside and only open it for me. Meanwhile, pull yerself over to the fire and get warm. Have ye eaten?”

  She shook her head unsteadily. “Nay,” she said. “I… I cannot remember when last I ate.”

  He gently removed her hands from his arm, pulling her over to the hearth and pushing her down so she was sitting on the warm stone in front of it. “Stay there,” he said, “and for pity’s sake, dunna leave this room. I will return as soon as I can. Do ye understand?”

  Madeline nodded her head, her battered body shivering and twitching. “Aye,” she said. He was just lifting the door latch when she called out to him again. “What are you doing here, Jamison? Why aren’t you back home with Havi?”

  He paused, looking at her. He didn’t want to tell her everything; it wasn’t her business, anyway. “Listen tae me,” he said, changing the subject. “The man that brought ye here – Horace – believes me tae be a Welsh ally, so ye mustna say anything tae the contrary. Is that clear? If he doesna believe that, it could go badly for all of us.”

  Madeline nodded solemnly. “I will not tell him anything, I swear it.”

  Jamison looked at her pointedly. “Not tae say I dunna believe ye, but ye’re not known for yer trustworthiness. When I say dunna tell him, I mean it.”

  Madeline lowered her gaze, looking like a scolded dog. “I will not,” she said again. “I… I just want to go home. I should not have done what I did… I was stupid. Do you think Havi will let me come home?”

  He just looked at her. “I am trying tae ensure ye have a home tae return tae,” he said. “For the time
being, ye’re going tae remain here and stay safe. I have some things tae do.”

  “But…!”

  “I willna argue with ye,” he cut her off. “’Tis best this way, Madeline. I dunna want tae worry about ye, so ye’ll stay here for a time. Now, I’ll return with water and food. Bolt the door when I leave.”

  With that, he was gone and Madeline stiffly stood up, moving to the door and bolting it just like he’d told her. She stood there for a moment, hardly believing that he had found her, the one man she’d hated so desperately. It didn’t make any sense as to why he was here in an inn, some nameless structure in some dirty Welsh town. She didn’t even know where she was, to be truthful. She’d spent the past four days living such a hellish existence that being saved by Jamison Munro was surely a miracle from God. The very man she’d hated so much for killing Evon was, in fact, her savior. There was great irony in that.

  And great relief.

  Aye, Madeline was sorry for what she’d done, feeling foolish and idiotic that Evon had taken such advantage of her. She’d let him. She’d been led by her foolish heart. But no longer. After seeing what the Welsh were capable of over the past four days, she was coming to see Four Crosses and her family through new eyes. Perhaps it had taken a fall of this magnitude for her to realize just how wrong she’d been.

  She wasn’t sure if Havilland would ever forgive her, but she’d spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to her.

  God had already given her one miracle. Perhaps with time, He’d give her another.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  *

  “A man like Jamison Munro…

  he does not belong to himself….”

  *

  Four Crosses Castle

  Six long days.

  That was how long Jamison had been gone, nearly the same number of days she had known him. Havilland had tried hard to settle back into her routine, now with just Amaline to keep her company and Tobias and Thad, who had gone out of their way to be kind to her. It made her uncomfortable, these knights she’d known for years now suddenly more polite than usual. Tobias had even taken to pouring her wine for her at the meal the night before, which made her vastly uneasy. He’d sat next to her, too. He hadn’t said much to her but his manner had been… solicitous. It appeared that he was paying close attention to her. She didn’t like it in the least. After she was finished with her meal, she’d retreated to her chamber and bolted the door.

  She didn’t want to have to deal with knights who were trying to be kind to her.

  This morning had seen the day dawn without mist, a bright blue sky above hinting at the spring to come. The ground was cold but not frozen as it had been as of late and the rain that had pounded them for the past few weeks also seemed to have vanished. In all, it turned out to be a beautiful day that she’d not had anyone to share with.

  She’d never felt more alone in her life.

  Odd how a man she’d known such a short time could become such a part of her. She’d tried so hard to convince herself that sending him away had been the right thing for them both, but the more time passed, the more her stance on that opinion was wavering. Jamison was heading north to marry his child bride and she would never see him again. She’d resigned herself to that. But the pain of his departure, instead of easing, had only intensified. By the second day after his leaving, she was seriously considering going after him and begging him to forgive her.

  But she held her ground, knowing that her decision to send him away had been the correct one. She forced herself to focus on her duties, on managing the gatehouse and on visiting her father who seemed to be sleeping a good deal these days. He didn’t look well, either, she thought, so she had his servant take him out to the kitchen yard that morning to stretch his legs, moving in an area where not many people would notice him. With a cloak over his body and a hood on his head, he was fairly inconspicuous.

  Havilland kept an eye on her father and his servant as they plodded around the kitchen yard, finally sending him back inside after several minutes because it was cold outside and she didn’t want him to catch a chill. She helped usher the man into the house, making sure he was tended before turning her attention back to the castle at large.

  As she headed back towards the gatehouse, she could see Amaline up on the wall, red hair wild and free, dressed in her usual tunic and boots. Even though Amaline was going through her regular routine as well, there was something different about her, something subdued and lost. Havilland watched her sister for a few moments, thinking that, perhaps, the young woman was feeling what she was feeling, as well.

  Nothing was the same any longer.

  And that included the gatehouse and Havilland’s regular duties. The gatehouse was the first place she had ever met Jamison so the structure had some memories for her to that regard. Memories of a man who wasn’t afraid to stand up to her, who hadn’t been afraid to spank her. What had been an embarrassing incident was now something that brought a smile to her lips.

  The Red Lion hadn’t been afraid of a half-English girl who fancied herself a warrior.

  Even though she’d been heading for the gatehouse, she felt a sudden aversion to it at the moment. The vault below and the structure itself weren’t welcoming to her. She kept seeing a redheaded Highlander reflected in those gray granite stones. The ladder leading up to the wall was to her left and she veered towards it, taking the ladder to the wall walk above, finding more solace. Here, she could look out over the landscape and dream of things that would never be.

  For now, it was the best she could hope for.

  “It will be a clear night tonight.”

  A male voice came from behind and she turned to see Tobias. He’d come up behind her and she’d never even heard him. When their eyes met, he smiled weakly.

  “We should have a full moon tonight,” he said, pointing to the sky. “It has been difficult to see the sky these past weeks with the mists so heavy, but it remains clear. It should be a beautiful, well-lit night.”

  Havilland nodded, glancing up the sky. The sun was dipping down on the horizon as it prepared to set for the night. “It will be clear and very cold,” she said. “When the sky is clear, the temperature is always quite cold.”

  Tobias nodded. He was still looking up at the sky. “Cold enough that the mortar on the repaired section of wall is not curing as it should,” he said. “Too cold and too much moisture for it to set properly.”

  Havilland looked at him with concern. “I had not been told that,” she said. “That is a very large section of wall to be weakened.”

  He nodded. “I know,” he said. “But at least there is no snow. In fact, it is odd how there does not seem to be any snow on the ground in spite of the month. Has there been any snow this season?”

  Havilland nodded. “There was a bit around Christmastide,” she said. “But there hasn’t been any since. Last year, we had snow until the last of March.”

  Tobias pretended to shiver. “I do not like snow well enough to tolerate that,” he said. “I was in London around this time last year and there wasn’t any snow. I like that much better.”

  Talk of London interested her. “When were you in London?” she asked.

  He leaned against the parapet, his attention moving to the landscape beyond. “My mother’s family has a great house in London,” he said. “I went there for the season.”

  Havilland leaned against the stones, too. “I have never been to London,” she said. “I hear it is a very big city.”

  Tobias looked at her. “It is quite large,” he agreed. “And there is nothing quite like it at Christmastide. There is a festiveness about because there are many celebrations going on to commemorate the birth of the Christ child. If you will allow, mayhap I will take you there someday. You can stay in my mother’s family’s home. It is a massive place. You have never seen anything so big.”

  She looked at him, sharply, thinking that the invitation sounded more than just something that would be part
of polite conversation. Just like last night, he was pouring her more wine and generally acting attentive. She didn’t like it.

  “I do not think so,” she said, looking away. “I think that I shall remain at Four Crosses for the rest of my life. I have no great desire to leave.”

  It was a lie but she wanted to throw him off her scent. She wasn’t interested in him, in any fashion. But Tobias wouldn’t be so easily discouraged.

  “When my father gets here, things will change,” he told her confidently. “With your father’s mental state, obviously, there must be a man in command of the castle. I am certain he will not throw you and your family out of the castle, but if you want to remain, you will have to have some role in the new command structure.”

  Havilland didn’t like that statement at all. “My sisters and I commanded Four Crosses quite ably for the past year,” she said. “I see no need to change.”

  Tobias shrugged. “You did admirably, considering you are women,” he said. “But Four Crosses is an important outpost and it must be commanded by someone who has been better trained and educated. You are a fine warrior, my lady, but surely you agree that a man must be in charge.”

  She sighed faintly, vastly displeased with the conversation. “Who?” she asked. “You?”

  He nodded. “Possibly,” he said. “My brother, Becket, might end up here, also. It is hard to say. But the point is that if you want to remain here and have a functional part, then changes will probably have to be made.”

  “What changes?” she asked suspiciously.

  Tobias wasn’t a fool; he could hear the displeasure in her voice. He’d been trying to warm her to him since Jamison’s departure in order to press forward with his suit, but he was sensing that six days was not enough time for that. He was impatient, however. He wanted the chance to marry the woman before Jamison changed his mind and came back for her. At this point, he wasn’t much concerned how Jamison was feeling or how Havilland was feeling. He was only concerned with himself.