Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Micheline wasn’t at all thrilled with his reply. It was a struggle not to outright refute the man.

  “My lord,” she said steadily. “I was informed that my husband offered my sister to you in marriage.”

  Lionel nodded. “He did, and I accepted.”

  It wasn’t in Micheline’s nature to resist or go against a directive of any kind. She was too meek. But knowing how Mara felt about Kirk, nothing about this situation made sense to her. She tried very hard to be respectful.

  “My lord,” she began again, carefully. “I am not sure if you are aware, but my sister has hoped to wed Kirk Connaught. My husband was not aware of this when he sent you the marriage offer. Had he known, he would not have offered Mara to you.”

  “Aware or not, I have accepted,” Lionel repeated. “This is not a subject open to debate. Mara will become my wife before the night is over.”

  Micheline didn’t like the soullessness from the man, and that dislike fed her bravery. “Do you understand that she is in love with another man and he is in love with her?” she asked. “I am sure if you understood this, you would not make such a callous statement.”

  Lionel eyes narrowed. “It does not matter,” he said. “Furthermore, this is a contract between Edmund and me. With all manner of respect, my lady, this is none of your affair and you will kindly stay out of it.”

  “It is my affair,” Micheline shot back softly. “My husband is dead; therefore, I have inherited his affairs, this one included. I am rescinding the marriage contract, my lord. You will find yourself another bride or I will not lift a finger to aid you in removing Mara from that room.”

  Lionel was geared up for a retort when her words sank in; my husband is dead. “Edmund is dead, did you say?” he repeated incredulously. “When did this occur?”

  “A few days ago,” Micheline replied, her manner strong and confident. “His sister killed him and when she tried to murder me, Sir Spencer saved my life.”

  Lionel looked at Spencer, astonished. “Is this true?”

  Spencer was grim. “It is,” he said softly. “Johanne was running mad. She murdered her brother and was attempting to murder the baroness when I intervened. When she tried to kill me, I killed her instead. I am not proud of the fact, my lord, but it is the truth. The woman was insane and I had no choice.”

  Lionel was completely shocked. He stared at Spencer, wide-eyed. “The madwoman attacked you?” he breathed. Then he shook his head. “I have heard tale of what she was capable of, but to attack a fully armed knight? I cannot believe my ears. The woman truly was mad.”

  Spencer nodded grimly. “She was not particularly strong but she was ruthless,” he said. “As much as I did not relish killing a woman, there was no alternative.”

  Lionel was quickly overcoming his shock, thinking of a world without the horrors of the Darkland hanging over their heads.

  “What did you do with Edmund and Johanne?” he asked, looking between Spencer and Micheline. “I am assuming there was no mass said for them?”

  Spencer looked at Micheline, who answered without hesitation. “None that I would attend, my lord,” she replied. “I paid the local parish priest to bury them in a location he deemed appropriate but I do not wish to know the details. I wash my hands of them both.”

  “Wise,” Lionel concurred. He began to look at Micheline with new, and perhaps respectful, eyes. “Lady Micheline, you seem like a woman with a good head on her shoulders. How is it that you married into that hellish family?”

  Micheline repeated the details. “In payment for a gambling debt my father had with Monroe de Cleveley.”

  Lionel stroked his bearded chin, eyeing her. “I see,” he said. “How old are you, my lady?”

  “I have seen twenty-two years, my lord.”

  “And you feel yourself capable of running an established house such as Anchorsholme?”

  “I cannot be any worse than my husband was, my lord.”

  Lionel snorted. He approved of his newest neighbor even though the truth was that he had little choice. It also occurred to him that he needed to establish a good relationship with her from the start and trying to break the woman’s sister out of her barricaded room wasn’t perhaps the best way to go about such a thing.

  “Indeed,” he said. “You already seem wise and reasonable. Speaking of wise and reasonable, do you have any suggestions on how to release your sister from her bower?”

  Micheline sighed. “I know of no such way, my lord,” she said with regret. “She will stay in there until she rots. She is very stubborn.”

  “Can you not plead with her to open the door?”

  Micheline had no real choice in the matter. They simply couldn’t leave Mara in the room forever. Again, she signed.

  “I can try.”

  Lionel and Spencer stood back as Micheline went to the door, half-hacked up and wrought with twisted metal. After a moment’s hesitation, she knocked on it softly.

  “Mara?” she called. “Mara, ’tis me, love. Please let me in.”

  They could all hear the shriek behind the closed door. Suddenly, the door was rattling as the bolt was thrown on the opposite side. But the door was so warped that it wasn’t hanging correctly any longer so the best Mara could do was open it three or four inches. When she saw Micheline in the corridor, she shrieked again.

  “Misha!” she cried. “You have come!”

  Micheline smiled at her pale-faced sister. “Open the door, love.”

  Mara jerked at the door until her hair flopped in her face. “I cannot,” she said, looking at the warped panel. “Those fools have ruined this door. I do not believe I can open it.”

  Having heard the conversation from his post several feet away, Spencer moved towards the door.

  “Let me try,” he said.

  As Micheline stood back, Spencer threw his shoulder into the panel and shoved, but it wasn’t enough, so Lionel came forward and also threw his shoulder into it. When Mara saw Lionel, she screamed and ran from their field of vision.

  “Stay away!” she cried.

  “Mara?” Micheline called to her. “Please do not be frightened. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise.”

  Mara, having spent more than a day in the chamber with hardly any sleep or food, was at her wit’s end.

  “You… you liar!” she screamed at her sister. “You wanted me to open the door so he would come in!”

  Micheline quickly came to understand what her sister meant and she hastened to reassure her. “Nay, love, I promise that is not true,” she said. “I simply wanted to see you.”

  Spencer and Lionel managed to get the door partially open and Mara shrieked again when she saw that it was wide enough for a man to slip through. In a panic, she threw herself into the slender lancet window.

  “If you come any closer, I shall jump!”

  Spencer was already in the room, coming to a halt when he saw Mara in the window. Lionel was a little slower to enter, struggling his big belly through the narrow opening, but he too came to a halt when he saw Mara in the window that was three stories above the hard-packed bailey. He threw out his hands.

  “Nay, Mara,” he pleaded. “All will be will, I swear it. You must get out of the window.”

  Mara inched out of the narrow ledge, gripping the frame of the window for leverage. “I will not get out of the window,” she cried. “I will not marry you, do you hear me? If you come any closer, I shall throw myself to the bailey below.”

  Micheline was in the room now, her eyes wide with fear. She well remembered a situation like this a few weeks ago when Mara had threatened to jump and would have fallen to her death had Kirk not saved her silly neck. She knew Mara wasn’t serious but she was also reckless. She could easily slip and….

  “Please, Mara,” she begged softly. “I have not seen you in over a week and there is much to tell. So much has happened. Edmund and Johanne are dead.”

  Mara had much the same reaction that Lionel had; her eyes widened and h
er jaw went slack. “Dead?” she repeated. “What happened?”

  “Now is not the time to discuss this,” Lionel interrupted. He was seriously concerned. “Lady Mara, please climb out of the window.”

  Mara’s attention was back on Lionel, her expression reverting to the panicked frown. “Only if you promise I do not have to marry you.”

  Lionel wasn’t surprised she was striking up a bargain. He knew she was an intelligent creature; she was trying to turn the situation to her advantage. But he knew he could never let her gain the upper hand.

  “Would it be so terrible, lass?” he asked quietly. “Would it be so terrible that you would rather kill yourself that become a wealthy baroness?”

  Mara’s bright eyes flickered. “It would not be terrible under different circumstances,” she said, calming somewhat. “But I would rather be the wife of a poor knight whom I love than the wife of a wealthy baron I do not love.”

  Lionel lifted a bushy eyebrow. “I understand,” he said, “but what you have failed to consider is that Kirk might not ever return from Ireland. He went over to fight a battle, my lady. It was not a garden party. Men will aim to kill him and it is quite possible one will succeed. He could be dead right now for all we know and then what will you do? Be a burden on your sister’s good graces for the rest of your life?”

  Mara turned red. “He will return,” she hissed. “He will return and he will kill you for what you have done.”

  “Perhaps,” Lionel said softly. “That remains to be seen. Now, come down off the window sill before you fall.”

  “I will not!”

  “Mara, come out of the window, lass.”

  The words spoken were not Lionel’s. Nor were they Micheline’s or Spencer’s. The voice had come from the chamber doorway and, startled, everyone in the room swung around to see Kirk standing inside of the twisted panel. He’d managed to slip in and no one heard or saw anything. Exhausted, clad in dirty and bloodied armor, he was armed to the teeth as if ready to go to battle at any second.

  They could not help but noticed that he did not look pleased.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  At the sight of Kirk, Micheline gasped with astonishment. Lionel might have also made a noise. But Kirk had eyes only for Mara.

  “Come out of the window, love,” he told her again, softly.

  For a moment, nobody moved. They were stunned. But then Mara shrieked, propelling herself out of the window and towards Kirk. But the moment she ran past Lionel, within arm’s length, the old man reached out and grabbed for her. Mara turned into a wildcat, punching and scratching the man until he released his hold. The next arms that grabbed her were Kirk’s.

  Mara threw herself against him, sobbing hysterically. Kirk held her tightly, trying not to jab her with sharp and deadly things strapped to his body. He stroked her dark head and kissed her salty cheeks, so very grateful to have her in his arms. He wasn’t sure she would ever end up there again.

  The truth was that his trip home had been a nightmare of worry and helplessness. Having no idea what had transpired at Quernmore during the time Corwin had withheld this explosive information, it was easy to imagine the worst. Fortunately, the winds had been with him and the trip across the Irish Sea had taken less than the usual day and a night. It had been relatively swift.

  The moment the ship docked, Kirk tore off to Quernmore, twelve miles from the port, and made it there in the dark of night. He hadn’t stopped moving, or worrying, in days. Now that he had Mara in his arms, the relief was indescribable. But there were still many unanswered questions and he struggled to keep a level head.

  “All is well, love,” he murmured into her dark hair. “I have returned. All is well.”

  “Kirk,” Spencer’s eyes were wide as he took a step in Kirk’s direction. “What are you doing here? Has the entire army returned?”

  Kirk kissed Mara one last time before turning his stone-gray gaze in Spencer’s direction. “It has not,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “I have returned prematurely because I was told that Edmund offered Mara to le Vay in marriage. Was this information incorrect?”

  Spencer shook his head reluctantly but it was Lionel who spoke. “It was correct,” he said steadily. “Edmund de Cleveley, as Lady Mara’s legal guardian, offered her to me in marriage and I have accepted.”

  Kirk’s attention shifted to le Vay. “Have you already married her?”

  Le Vay shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Kirk relaxed somewhat. Now the most critical issue was answered so he allowed himself a bit of respite from his worry. However, he found that his anger was gaining speed and he struggled to keep it at bay.

  “My lord, you are aware that she belongs to me,” he said, perplexed. “Why would you accept Edmund’s offer?”

  Le Vay hesitated. “Because…,” he said, paused, and started again. “Because it is my last chance to have an heir, Kirk. With Michael gone, I am in need of a son. I want a son. You cannot blame me or deny my wants. It is my right.”

  Kirk’s brow flickered angrily. “Your wants?” he repeated. “What about mine? Mara’s? Or are you the only person of import and our wants do not matter?”

  “I am a wealthy man,” Lionel said, summoning courage. Kirk was becoming intimidating. “I was legally offered the lady’s hand and I legally accepted. I have done nothing wrong. To want a son to pass my titles and wealth to is not a crime.”

  “It is not a crime but it is certainly a sin to knowingly marry a woman who loves another,” Kirk fired back softly. “You know she belongs to me, my lord. I am shocked and disappointed that you seriously considered this marriage proposal.”

  Le Vay held Kirk’s gaze a moment longer before lowering his head. He couldn’t look at the man anymore. He found he was frustrated more than anything.

  “So you have returned from Ireland to stop me,” he muttered. “Who told you?”

  “It does not matter. I have returned to claim what is rightfully mine.”

  Le Vay’s gaze flicked up to him. “Rightfully, she is mine.”

  Kirk could see that the man was deadly serious and more than being perplexed by his behavior, he was quickly approaching desperation. He knew that he had no real legal ground to stand on; the contract le Vay had accepted trumped a love story. His thoughts moved to the real problem in all of this; Edmund. His gaze moved to Micheline.

  “Where is your husband, my lady?” he asked, grinding his teeth. “I have a need to speak with him.”

  Micheline was pale and frightened but she met Kirk’s gaze evenly. “He is dead,” she murmured. “Both Edmund and Johanne are dead.”

  Kirk didn’t react except with a flicker of confusion over his brow. Then his features seemed to slacken. “Dead?” he repeated. “How?”

  Micheline sighed heavily, feeling exhausted and sick to the bone. The past few days had been too much to bear.

  “Johanne went mad,” she said softly. “She did not know that you and Mara were in love. Edmund purposely kept the information from her, I can only assume, out of fear for you. When she found out that he had not told her the truth, she went mad and killed him. When she tried to kill me, Sir Spencer intervened and killed her in self-defense.”

  Kirk listened intently. He was seriously shocked at the news but, oddly, he found he wasn’t particularly surprised. Nothing about events at the Darkland surprised him any longer; he’d grown numb to that place and its poison. He looked at Spencer.

  “What were you doing at Anchorsholme?” he asked.

  Spencer met his gaze evenly. “I was there to deliver Lord le Vay’s acceptance of the marriage offer for Mara.”

  Kirk fell quiet, digesting the information. His mind was working swiftly, mulling over the facts, the results, and the future. He realized that he felt a great deal of relief at the news of Edmund and Johanne’s deaths, more than he ever imagined possible. He had no great love for Edmund and certainly no great love for Johanne. No, he wasn’t disappointed in the least. He was glad. But
one thought became abundantly clear as he stood there and stewed; he looked straight at Micheline.

  “You are Lady de Cleveley and I am sworn to you,” he said quietly. “You command an army of one thousand men and a great Irish empire. Long live Lady de Cleveley.”

  Micheline, slumped against a chair, stared at him. But she could see the warmth in his dark eyes and she smiled wearily.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Kirk’s warmth faded. “That also means that you are responsible for the contracts your husband brokered,” he said. “Should you wish to dispute the contract between Lord le Vay and Mara, it is within your right to do so but know he will expect compensation of some kind.”

  Before Micheline could reply, le Vay interrupted. “I will not give her up,” he said flatly. “I am within my legal right to maintain the integrity of the marriage contract.”

  Micheline showed surprising courage; she wasn’t courageous by nature but the past few weeks had shown remarkable growth. She was Lady de Cleveley and the empire of Anchorsholme was now hers. She could either fold or she could meet the challenge; she chose to meet it.

  “My lord,” she said steadily. “It would seem that we have two choices in this matter; obviously, you know what my sister and Sir Kirk are in love and plan to be wed. Should you choose to go through with the wedding to my sister, Kirk will not fade away. As much as it is your legal right to enforce the marriage contract, it is Sir Kirk’s moral right to fight for the woman you are taking from him. He will challenge you and you will lose. In fact, you will die. Therefore, it would make more sense to dissolve this contract and find a bride elsewhere.”

  Le Vay looked at Lady de Cleveley with some contempt as well as resignation. Then, his attention turned to Mara. She was still in Kirk’s protective embrace and he knew there was no way he would be able to wrest her from the man. But he also knew he didn’t have to; he had a champion.

  “I choose to fight for what is legally mine,” he said quietly. “I feel strongly that I must. Spencer, it would seem you have a task ahead of you.”