Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Please,” she turned to the men. “Please help her. I fear I have done all I can.”

  The words hadn’t even left her mouth before the knights were swinging into action. She didn’t even have to ask, truly; they had already decided they were going to assist. They had heard the screams, too, and had followed the cries until they came across the source. Even now, the older knight was directing the younger.

  “Take your mail off,” he instructed quickly as the man hurried to do his bidding. “This ledge cannot take the additional weight.”

  The mail coat came off and the younger knight, a lean and attractive man with shoulder-length blond hair, fell on to his belly and slithered to the edge. The other knight got in behind him and grabbed his ankles.

  “I will lower you down,” he said. “Tell me as soon as you have hold of her and I will pull you up.”

  The younger knight nodded, waiting until his liege had him by the ankles before plunging forward. Muddied, wet and terrified, Gray leaned over the edge of the cliff, as far as she dared to go.

  “Brooke!” she called over the roar of the falls. “Take hold of his hand!”

  Brooke was clutching the rocks, her eyes closed and face pressed into the wet granite. But when her mother called to her, she dared to open her eyes, looking up to see that someone was descending towards her. She started to scream.

  “Nay!” she wept loudly. “He will make me fall!”

  Gray tried to soothe the terrified girl. “Nay, sweetheart,” she assured her. “He is here to help. Take hold of him.”

  Brooke sobbed loudly as the knight was lowered. Gray glanced over at the older knight; he had a good grip on the younger man’s ankles but it was taking all of his strength to lower him. Just as it looked as if he was having a rough time of it, more men burst through the foliage and the older knight snapped orders to them; a tall, red-haired knight went to his aid, grabbing hold of the legs of the other and helping to lower him while two men-at-arms stood by the man who was now lowered over the edge of the cliff by about three-quarters of his body length. The knight dangling over the side called back to the others.

  “She is too far out of my reach,” he called. “I need another seven or eight feet to get to her.”

  Gray suddenly remembered the apron and hose rope in her hand and she thrust it at one of the men-at-arms.

  “Here,” she gave it to him. “He can use this. She can grab hold of it.”

  The soldier took it, handing it down to the knight as the others struggled to hold him. The knight wrapped one end around his forearm securely as he dangled the end to the girl.

  “My lady?” he called to her, oddly formal under such peculiar circumstances. “Take the rope. Grab hold!”

  Brooke peeped an eye open; the rope had fallen against her arm and she instinctively grabbed it. But in doing so, she suddenly lost her balance and, with a mighty scream, slipped right off the rocks. She had a strong hold on the hose rope, but she screamed like a banshee as she dangled forty feet above the foaming waters of the falls.

  The knight had the other end of the rope wrapped several times around his forearm. He wasn’t concerned that he would let go, but he was very concerned that the young girl would let go. She was thrashing about, screaming, and he called down to her steadily.

  “Stop kicking, my lady,” he commanded. “Hold fast and we will pull you up.”

  Gray, standing at the edge of the cliff, watched the scene unfold with her heart in her throat. “Brooke, stop thrashing!” she begged, looking to the men who were struggling to pull her up. “Please; pull her up quickly!”

  The older knight knew that; God help him, he did. But the grass beneath his feet was giving way as he and the tall, red-headed knight pulled back steadily. The tall knight lost his footing in the slick grass and ended up on his knees, but together, they managed to pull the knight and the lady back from the roiling brink of madness. Once the younger, blond haired knight was able to get his footing, he pulled the young lady to the edge of the cliff where the two men-at-arms grabbed her by both arms.

  They hauled the hysterical girl onto the grass where her mother collapsed beside her, pulling her into her arms. The young girl wept loudly as her mother comforted her with compassion, with gratefulness. Everyone could breathe again now that the girl was safe and if one listened closely, a collective sigh of relief could be heard.

  “You are safe now, sweetheart,” Gray whispered, holding her daughter tightly. “Stop crying. You are safe.”

  The knights were winded, wiping sweat and mud from their faces, watching the exchange. They were spent but relieved they could contribute to a happy ending; when they had first heard the screaming from their encampment to the south, they had no idea what they would find. Truth be told, screaming women were never a good thing. Not one of them would deny that there had been a bit of apprehension as they had followed the sounds.

  “Is she all right?” the older knight asked.

  Gray allowed her daughter to weep for a few moments longer before pulling back, holding her child’s face between her hands and looking hard at her. “Are you well?”

  The girl sniffled, sobbed, wiped at her cheeks. “I… I am not hurt.”

  “What happened?”

  Brooke shrugged. “I am not sure,” she gasped. “I was looking at the water and suddenly I slipped. I guess I drew too close to the edge.”

  Gray smiled gently, feeling quite weak with relief. She honestly hadn’t been sure she would ever share a moment like this again with her child, the tender embrace between a mother and her offspring. It was heavenly, something that renewed her spirit.

  “I would say that is a fair assessment,” she murmured, kissing her daughter’s wet cheek. “Now, stop weeping and thank these brave men who have come to your aid, for without them, you and I would have surely been in a predicament.”

  Brooke was struggling to calm. As the minutes passed and she realized she wasn’t dead at the bottom of the falls, she simply felt ill and somewhat shocked. She allowed her mother to pull her to shaky legs, all the while turning her focus to the three knights standing a few feet away. Her gaze found the big knight with the long blond hair, the one who had risked himself to save her. Shaken, she tried to curtsy but it came out quite unsteady. She almost tipped over in the attempt.

  “Th-thank you,” she sniffed. “You saved my life.”

  The young knight smiled at her. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Sir Dallas Aston,” he said, then indicated the men standing next to him. “This towering man with the red hair is Sir Geoff de Mandeville and the third knight is our liege, Sir Braxton de Nerra.”

  Brooke regarded the three of them carefully: her savior, with his striking good looks, the tall knight with the dark red hair, and the muscular knight with the graying blond hair. They gazed back at her with varying degrees of kindness and curiosity, which began to stir Brooke’s spirits. It was rare when she was exposed to men, and certainly rarer still with men of this caliber. She knew just by looking at them that they were chivalrous, powerful knights that all ladies dream of. Her heart stirred a little more at the thought of these strong men saving her. It almost made the memory of the event pleasant; it would certainly make a good story in years to come.

  “I am the Lady Brooke Serroux,” she seemed to be perking up a little. “Perhaps you will share sup with us tonight so we can properly thank you. Can we invite them, Mama? Please?”

  With the focus suddenly on her, Gray was uncomfortable. She hesitated in her reply. “Of course we should, but perhaps Sir Braxton and his men have other plans. I am sure they are very busy and we have taken enough of their time.”

  Brooke turned her sweet face to Braxton, the leader of the knights. Her eyes lit up.

  “Do you have other plans?” she asked hopefully. “Could you come and stay with us tonight? Perhaps you could tell us about your dangerous adventures.”

  “Brooke,” Gray
chided softly, quieting her. She looked at the knight. “I am sorry, my lord. She is an eager young girl and has not learned the art of tact yet. I am sure you are far too busy to sup with us.”

  Braxton met her gaze. “My men and I are on our way to Kendal. But we would be honored to sup with you tonight if you would be kind enough to have us.”

  Brooke looked thrilled. Gray looked pale. “We… we do not set a fine table, my lord,” Gray insisted weakly; she knew it was a losing battle. “I am sure you must be accustomed to much finer accommodations.”

  Braxton did not pick up on her reluctant tone. “My lady, the woods are our usual accommodations. Supping beneath a roof would be as grand as we could imagine.”

  She just looked at him. Then she forced a smile. “We would be honored, my lord.”

  Her disinclination suddenly came clear to him. Not wanting to be a burdensome guest, he sought to make his presence more attractive. “We have all manner of bounty that we have hunted from these woods. Just this morning, we downed a three-point buck. It should be enough food for an army. We shall bring all that we have and share it with our gracious hosts.”

  Brooke clapped her hands. “Meat!” she said gleefully. “It has been a long time since we’ve had such a treat. Oh! I must retrieve my berries. I dropped them when I slipped.”

  She was off. Gray tried to stop her, to at least admonish her from getting too close to the edge again, but Brooke wasn’t listening. The falls roared, drowning out the mother’s pleas. Brooke collected her basket, near the edge of the cliff, and quickly backed off. But off to her right she caught sight of a bush with fat black berries and she darted in that direction. Gray watched her daughter, looking to the knights after a moment with some uncertainty.

  “My thanks to you again, gentle knights,” she said in her soft, sultry voice. “I… I suppose I should collect my own basket. I dropped it somewhere in the trees.” She looked back over at her daughter, now busy several feet away yanking berries off the bush. “Come along, young woman; ’tis time to leave. Do you hear me?”

  Braxton put up a hand. “I will collect your daughter, madam. You go and find your basket.”

  Gray was a little unsure about leaving the minding of her daughter to a stranger, but she reckoned that the mere fact he had just saved Brooke’s life warranted some amount of trust. Still, she couldn’t help her natural suspicion; she wasn’t trusting by nature, especially of men.

  She hesitated and Braxton saw it; in spite of their altruistic intentions, he was well aware that they were all strangers. Now that the terror of her daughter’s predicament had passed, an odd suspicion was settling. He was positive the woman would turn and run from them given half a chance, and it occurred to him that he had not particularly eased the situation. Now that the chaos had settled, he realized that he didn’t even know her name.

  Braxton’s gaze lingered on her. “To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing, madam?”

  She looked puzzled. “My lord?”

  “Your name, lady. I do not know your name.”

  Embarrassment crossed her lovely face. “My apologies, my lord,” she said. “I am the Lady Gray Serroux.”

  “Gray? Of the Northumberland Grays?”

  She nodded her head. “My mother is of the family. She named me Gray in honor of the House.”

  He understood more clearly. “Gray is your Christian name?”

  “I was christened Gray Isabella.”

  It was as unusual and beautiful as she was. Somehow, she didn’t look like an Elizabeth or Elinor or Anne. He studied the woman for a moment; he simply couldn’t help himself. Her features were angelic with her lusciously smooth skin, round cheeks and pert nose. She had long blond hair, lush and pillowy lips, and eyes of the most amazing amber color. He could have gazed into those eyes forever; in fact, the only word that came to mind when he looked at her was exquisite. Like a goddess descended, she had him in her spell whether or not she knew it. Like a baited fish, Braxton was hooked.

  “Lady Gray,” he smiled at her, not realizing his men were looking between him and the lady, realizing their liege was quite smitten with her. “It is a pleasure making your acquaintance even under these harsh circumstances. If you will permit me, I will collect your daughter for you and escort you both back to Erith.”

  He sounded so sincere; Gray would have had a difficult time refusing him in any case. Although her natural suspicion and reserve screamed for her to resist the man and his attempts, somehow, she wasn’t able to. Perhaps it was because he had saved her only child or perhaps it was simply because she was growing stupid in her old age. Whatever the case, she went in search of the basket she had dropped on her wild run to Brooke’s aid, all the while thinking on the broad knight with the blue-green eyes.

  Braxton watched Gray wander back into the trees, whistling softly at one of his men to go with her for protection. Geoff took the order and followed the lady as Dallas and the men at arms moved back in the direction of their encampment. With everyone on the move, Braxton went after Lady Brooke.

  She was yanking berries off a stubborn branch that refused to give way. Braxton walked up beside her and she glanced over at him, smiling as she popped off a resistant berry and put it in her basket. Braxton returned her smile politely.

  “Are you ready to go, my lady?” he asked. “A feast awaits you.”

  Brooke’s delicate eyebrows lifted. “Feast? What feast?”

  He pointed at the basket. “Those are a start.”

  She looked at the berries and shrugged. “Berries are not a feast, although these berries are very sweet. We return here every year.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the direction of the roaring falls; she could see the spray billowing up over the tops of the foliage. “Although I suppose now we will never return here. My mother will be afraid I will end up in peril again.”

  Braxton lifted his eyebrows. “You were indeed in a quandary. How did you slip, anyway?”

  Brooke shrugged irritably; for someone who was close to dying just a few minutes earlier, she had bounced back admirably, which was a tribute to her young resilience.

  “I do not know,” she said with some irritation, as if he had asked a probing question. “What matters is that my mother will no longer trust me now. She already treats me like a child. Now she will never let me out of her sight again.”

  He wriggled his eyebrows. “It is only because she does not want to see you come to harm. As you have discovered, wandering alone out here in the woods can more than likely invite that.”

  Brooke lifted an eyebrow. He could read in her expression that she believed he was siding with her mother. “I am not a child,” she said indignantly. “My grandmother says that I am a woman. And I am.”

  Braxton didn’t dare smile, though he wanted to. “I see. And what does your father say?”

  She jutted her chin in the air. “My father is no longer alive but, if he was, I am sure he would agree that I am a woman grown. And I do not need my mother to nursemaid my every move.”

  She was certainly a spitfire. But he realized that her statement brought him pleasure; so her mother was a widow. Braxton didn’t know why he felt joyful about it, but he did.

  “Be that as it may, I am sure your mother is only doing what she feels is best,” he glanced over to the distant tree line where Lady Gray and Geoff had disappeared. “Shall we go and find her?”

  Brooke frowned, shrugged, and then finally relented. Braxton took her arm gently, escorting her towards the tree line and away from the treacherous falls. Brooke stole glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked; there was nothing greater than the curiosity of a fifteen-year-old. “Where do you come from?”

  His blue-green eyes fixed on her. “My men are camped on the other side of the trees down there to the south,” he said. “And I come from Northumbria.”

  “Does your family live there?”

  “My father lives there.”


  “Do you live with him?”

  He shook his head. “I do not live anywhere.”

  She was puzzled. “But you are a knight. Surely you have a House.”

  They approached the edge of the trees where Braxton had last seen Lady Gray. “I am a knight bannerette,” he said simply. “I am not sworn to one particular liege.”

  Brooke was quickly forgetting about her near-death experience, now focused on Braxton’s life story. “You are a bachelor knight?” she asked, awed. “So you travel everywhere and fight for whomever you wish. How exciting! Have you been to many wonderful places?”

  “Nay, lass, I am not a bachelor knight,” he corrected her. “I said that I am a knight bannerette; there is a difference. Bachelor knights do not have men sworn to them. I have one hundred and eighty. And yes, I have been to many wonderful places.”

  She was gazing up at him openly. “I would like to travel someday,” she said. “I would like to go to Paris.”

  The corner of his lips twitched. “It is a grand place. Surely your husband will take you there someday.”

  She looked away from him with a haughty expression so suited to young adults. “Aye, he will take me there, and anywhere else I want to go. I will marry a very rich man.”

  “Is that so? Tell me; have you already selected this mountain of wealth?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet,” she looked at him, pausing, her gaze alternately eager and hesitant. “Do you want to know a secret?”

  “What is that?”

  “My grandmother has already invited several houses to vie for my hand. My mother does not even know!”

  It was scandalous; he could tell just by the way she was smirking. “Why would your grandmother not tell your mother?” he wanted to know.

  Brooke was still playing the haughty young lady. “I already told you; because my mother would keep me a child for the rest of my life.”

  “You are young.”