Destined for Love

by Aston, Alexa

  She handed the sweet babe to his sister and Lyssa left, talking to her little brother the entire while.

  Faylinn shifted in the chair and stood. “I can’t seem to get comfortable today. My back is aching terribly.”

  Before Madeleine could reply, Faylinn felt a warm trickle run down her leg. She opened her mouth to inform Madeleine and a huge rush of water burst from her.

  “Ah, your time has come. I’ll send for the midwife and have the birthing stool brought to your bedchamber. Let me assist you there.”

  Her friend guided Faylinn from the solar and promised to return soon.

  A twinge of mild pain rippled through her and Faylinn knew her birthing pains had begun. They lasted the rest of the morning and all afternoon, continuing past the evening meal. By then, her garments and hair were soaked with sweat and the sharp pains came close together, draining her.

  The midwife examined her once more and said, “The head is crowning my lady. With the next pain, bear down as hard as you can.”

  The sensation to push had been strong and Faylinn was glad she could finally do something about it. When the pain struck again, she closed her eyes and bit down on the wood a servant had given her and concentrated on moving the babe from her. It took another three pains and much pushing but, suddenly, the pressure ended as the babe came free. Struggling to open her eyes, she saw the midwife pass the mewling babe to a servant to clean.

  Her eyes cut to Madeleine, who held Faylinn’s hand.

  “The babe?” she asked weakly.

  “It is a girl, my lady,” the midwife proclaimed. “Healthy and with all of her fingers and toes.”

  Relief swept through her. She would not have to set foot at Mallowbourne again. She’d worried about walking its halls, people staring at her in mistrust, and marrying a stranger according to the king’s orders.

  Would she see Drake again?

  Faylinn didn’t know if the knight would be a part of her future and that of her daughter’s. No promises had been made between them.

  Madeleine wiped Faylinn’s face with a cool cloth and sat with her as the afterbirth came and was removed. Faylinn was helped from the bed so new bedclothes could be placed there. Two servants helped remove her clothes and wiped her body with cool water before placing a fresh smock over her head. She lay back in the bed, tired but very happy at how well the birth had gone. Another servant returned with Faylinn’s daughter and handed the tightly swaddled babe to her. The girl had tufts of golden hair and an impossibly cute nose and mouth. She smiled at the babe, love bursting from her in waves.

  “I never knew I could feel such love,” she said in wonder.

  “It’s surprising how swift and fierce it comes,” Madeleine said, gazing at the newborn. “She is lovely. Have you thought of a name for her?”

  “Elewys. It was my mother’s name. I never knew her since she died at my birth. Mayhap a part of her will live in my own daughter.”

  “I think she will. Are you ready to nurse her?”

  “Yes.”

  Madeleine shooed everyone from the room and helped situate Elewys at Faylinn’s breast. The babe took a few minutes to catch on but once she did, she drank greedily, the loud sucking filling the room.

  “You are perfect, my little Elewys,” Faylinn cooed to the child.

  “Would you like Garrett to send the missives to the king and the Baron of Gaynesford?” Madeleine asked.

  “Please. I’m sure the new baron will be thrilled to learn Mallowbourne is all his, along with the title—and a wife of his own choosing.”

  “What about Drake? Do you wish to write to him yourself?”

  “No.”

  Madeleine frowned. “Why not, Faylinn? This is the outcome we’ve all prayed for.”

  “Nothing was ever settled between us. I fear Drake is a man much like my brother. Ashby did not want to wed unless he had property of his own. Drake, in his own way, is just as proud.”

  “You belong together,” her friend said firmly. “Whether he owns land or not. Either Garrett or Ashby will be happy to have him as one of their knights. That way, you could wed—and have children of your own one day.”

  Faylinn shook her head. “Have Garrett send word to Lord Bevil. Once Drake learns I won’t return to Mallowbourne, it will be up to him. If he comes for me, my happiness will know no bounds.” She paused, her throat growing thick with unshed tears. “If he doesn’t, I have my darling Elewys and will live quietly at Newbury Manor.”

  “There’s no changing your mind?”

  With tears brimming in her eyes, she looked at Madeleine. “No. I know my heart. Drake will need to listen to his.”

  *

  Drake accompanied Sir Bevil to the training yard on a chilly morning. Despite the circumstances, he truly liked this man. Whether Sir Bevil became the next Baron of Gaynesford or merely the guardian to the new baron, Mallowbourne would be in good hands for years to come.

  One of Sir Bevil’s first acts had been to gift Sir Stephen with a cottage so that he could retire as Mallowbourne’s captain of the guard. In his place, Sir Bevil wanted to elevate Drake to the position. Drake told the knight he would assume the role on a temporary basis but refused to commit to anything permanent at this point. Sir Bevil had let the matter drop and it had never come up in the months since Drake’s return.

  He expected any day now to hear the news of Faylinn and her babe since October had passed and it was the first week in November. Drake had done his best to put all thoughts of her from his mind. He trained long and hard with the men and, most nights, either rode patrol himself or spent hours on the wall-walk before falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

  They reached the yard and he moved among the soldiers. Several had expressed interest in learning how to fight with both hands, as he did, and so part of each session he devoted to working with those interested in approaching combat in such a manner.

  Eventually, Drake returned to the platform and Sir Bevil joined him. Mallowbourne’s warden had also been sparring with others and took an active role in daily training. It had earned him the respect of the soldiers.

  What had surprised Drake was his own warm welcome among the men. He’d thought the seeds of doubt sown by Lady Sabelina would have corrupted any chance he had to once more become a part of Mallowbourne. Instead, many soldiers approached him within his first week home, expressing their happiness that he had returned to their fold.

  “What do you think of Mallowbourne adding pages and squires?” asked Sir Bevil.

  “Some were present in the past,” Drake said carefully, not wanting to disparage his former liege lord’s memory. “As Lord Amaury grew older, he chose not to take on any more. I do believe it would be good for you to return to this practice, my lord. You are a natural leader and would find several noblemen who would be delighted to send their sons to Mallowbourne.”

  “I feel it important to groom the next generation of knights. It’s a responsibility that I take seriously. Do you feel Lady Faylinn would be amenable to this?”

  Uncomfortable with the question, Drake replied, “You should take that up with the lady if she returns, my lord.”

  “You knew her well,” Sir Bevil persisted.

  “I suppose as well as anyone at Mallowbourne before we left for Sussex. During our journey, I came to admire her quite a bit.”

  Sir Bevil studied him. “Is Lady Faylinn the reason you won’t commit to being my captain of the guard?”

  Drake walked a fine line now. “If Lady Faylinn returns to the estate with her son, I believe it important for her to make a fresh start. She will have her babe. Marriage to you. I fear my presence would be a constant reminder of her earlier troubles.” He paused. “If Lady Faylinn does come home, then I will be leaving, my lord.”

  Sir Bevil nodded. “I understand. Thank you for your candor. Do you have in mind where you might go?”

  “I am considering a few possibilities. Nothing has been decided.”

  They fell sile
nt and Drake finally exited the platform to spar with several of the men.

  By the evening meal, he was weary—and uneasy. Talk of Faylinn today had kept her on his mind. Knowing her time to deliver had passed, he worried for her. Had the babe been breech, as Rosina’s had been? Had she died giving birth—or had the babe died? Regret filled him. He should have gone to see her during these months. He’d thought staying away had been the right choice.

  Now, only doubt plagued him as he worried he might never see her alive again.

  As he ate, he tried to follow the conversation at his table. Instead, he found his eyes roaming the great hall, no interest in the food or his companions. He spied a stranger standing in the doorway, a scroll in hand, and his breath caught. This might be word of Faylinn and the babe.

  The messenger crossed the room and headed toward the dais. He came to stand before Sir Bevil. The pair spoke for a few minutes but the man never offered Sir Bevil the missive. Curious, Drake continued to watch until the warden held out his hand and accepted the scroll.

  Immediately, Sir Bevil left the dais and signaled a serving wench. The messenger left with her and Drake supposed the man would be offered a meal and possibly stay the night before returning to Stanbury.

  He looked back at his food as a shadow fell across the table. Looking up, Drake saw Sir Bevil standing there.

  “Will you accompany me to the solar, Sir Drake?”

  He rose. “Certainly, my lord.”

  They exited the great hall and went upstairs, no conversation between them. When they arrived, Sir Bevil poured a cup of wine and offered it to Drake. He accepted it and then the knight passed the unopened scroll to him.

  Puzzled, he accepted it, wondering why he should open the news from Stanbury.

  “I thought you would prefer privacy while you read this, Sir Drake.”

  Glancing down at the unbroken seal, his heart skipped a beat.

  It was the Earl of Wakeland’s seal.

  Drake saw Sir Bevil had poured wine for himself and had crossed the room to stand before the fire. He downed his own wine in one, long swallow and set the cup aside. With trembling fingers, he broke the seal and unrolled the scroll.

  No salutation. No signature. Only two brief lines.

  Your presence is required at Wakefield. Come at once.

  Drake did not recognize the handwriting but knew it wasn’t Baldwin’s. The only person who possessed a worse hand than Drake was his half-brother.

  Why would Baldwin contact him after so long? And why not pen the missive himself?

  He felt Sir Bevil’s eyes upon him and asked, “Did the messenger tell you what this missive contained? You spoke to him at length.”

  “I believe you will wish to talk with him yourself. I’ll fetch him now. Remain here.”

  The knight left. Drake paced the solar nervously until Sir Bevil returned with the Wakefield man. Drake didn’t recognize him. Though he’d known every soldier at Wakefield, he had been gone several years now.

  “I am Sir Rickon,” the man began. “I came to Wakefield two years ago. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord. There are still a few present in the barracks who speak of your tremendous combat skills and leadership.”

  “A few?” he asked, thinking the man’s wording odd.

  Sir Rickon flushed. “Much has changed since you left Wakefield, my lord.”

  Concern filled him. “What kind of changes?”

  “A large portion of soldiers and many tenants have left the estate.” The knight paused. “May I speak frankly?”

  “Go on,” encouraged Drake.

  “Lord Baldwin cares little for the running or protection of Wakefield. Things have grown lax. The fields no longer thrive. I came—and have remained—hoping to make a difference. Mayhap now you can, as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feared Lady Gunnora’s missive would be cryptic. Might I read it?”

  Drake passed it to the Wakefield man and said, “It told me nothing. What truly goes on at my former home and why did my sister-in-law write to me instead of Baldwin?”

  Sir Rickon cleared his throat. “Lord Baldwin was thrown from his horse during a recent hunt in the woods. He landed on his head, snapping his neck.”

  Drake cringed. Though he had no love for his half-brother, he would never have wanted him harmed.

  “Lord Baldwin can only move his head slightly. The healer said he damaged his spine. His arms and legs are useless. He must be fed by hand and even then, he eats little. His breathing is labored. He soils himself as a babe. Father Paul encouraged Lady Gunnora to reach out to you and beg for you to come home. She is incapable of running Wakefield on her own and caring for her husband.”

  A shadow crossed Sir Rickon’s face. “I have heard rumors that she does little for the earl and wishes him dead. Father Paul and the healer thinks Lord Baldwin hasn’t long to live.”

  Drake reeled from this news. “Thank you for informing me of the true situation, Sir Rickon.” He glanced to Sir Bevil. “My lord, it grieves me to abandon my post at Mallowbourne but I feel I must return to Wakefield at once.”

  “I would not have it any other way, Sir Drake,” replied Sir Bevil. “You are the answer to the prayers of the people of Wakefield. As it is, you will probably be its earl sooner than later.”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to Drake. His concern had been for Wakefield’s welfare.

  “I will leave at first light with Sir Rickon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It took three days to ride from Somerset to Devon. The Mallowbourne cook had packed enough food so that Drake and Sir Rickon wouldn’t have to stop and purchase any, though by the third day their bread had gone stale. They had supplemented the food at night with small game that they’d caught in the forest, cooking it over a fire. It was during those hours, before they went to sleep, that Drake questioned his companion regarding the running of Wakefield. Though reluctant at first, Sir Rickon must have realized that Drake would soon be his new liege lord and fully disclosed the information he had.

  It troubled him that Wakefield and its people had been sorely neglected and he steeled himself for what he would find upon their arrival. The same held true for Baldwin. From Sir Rickon’s description, the picture of Baldwin lying helpless, paralyzed from his neck down, depressed Drake.

  With it now into November, the sowing, milling, and weaving would be completed. He would need to carefully check the stores. While the weaving would continue, the butchering, smoking, and salting of meat would consume the next month. He would also take time to ride the property and make an inventory of what repairs needed to be made to the tenants’ cottages and around the estate itself. He would meet with the steward and head groom, as well, and find out the status of his treasury and stables.

  His . . .

  He’d never thought to be Earl of Wakeland. His parents had raised him with the knowledge that his would always be a supportive role to his half-brother. The fact that Baldwin had cast Drake from the estate, preventing him from helping manage it, hurt him deeply, even after all this time.

  His pulse pounded as they made the turn east and ventured down the road that led to Wakefield. No one toiled in the fields by this point and he assumed the sowing had been completed, along with the milling. He hoped enough grain had been prepared for winter and beyond. As they approached the castle, he noticed only two soldiers along the wall-walk. No one manned the gatehouse and the gates were opened wide.

  They rode through the outer bailey and stopped at the stables. He spied a groom he knew and handed Starlight’s reins to him.

  The groom broke out in a huge smile. “It’s good to see you, my lord. Will you be staying?”

  Drake heard the hopeful tone and replied, “I am home for good.”

  As the groom led Starlight away, Sir Rickon joined him and they marched from the stables and past the training yard. Shock filled him as only about half of the soldiers he was used to seeing sparred.


  “It’s worse than you let on,” he said to Sir Rickon. “There are so few men training.”

  “This is less than the number who were at Wakefield when I arrived, my lord. As I said, several have moved on.”

  “Why did you stay?”

  The young knight said, “I wanted to make a difference. I come from a family of seven brothers. I am the youngest. I wanted to find a place where my services were needed and do the best I could to make it a safe place. As more men left, I admit that I thought I would have an opportunity to rise faster in the ranks with less competition.”

  “I commend you for staying, Sir Rickon. I will need to see how you swing a sword but I thank you for remaining when others deserted Wakefield. I will not forget that.”

  The knight bowed his head respectfully. “I will leave you here, my lord. It’s time I returned to my training.”

  Drake watched Sir Rickon stride toward the yard and admired the young soldier’s work ethic. Once he had the situation in hand, he would spend endless hours in the training yard, getting to know the soldiers and, hopefully, finding new additions to come to Wakefield.

  Turning, he strode toward the keep. A few called out greetings as they worked and he noted the surprise and delight on their faces at his return. He raced up the stairs and pushed open the door to the keep. A servant with a tray in hand caught sight of him.

  “Yes, my lord?” she inquired.

  “I am Sir Drake Harcourt.”

  She broke out in a wide smile. “Oh, my lord, I am so glad you have come. Things are in a bad way with Lord Baldwin’s accident. Lady Gunnora gives us no direction.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Jane, my lord.”

  “Things are going to change for the better, Jane. Of that you can be certain. I must see Baldwin in the solar now but I will meet with all the keep’s servants soon.”

  She bit her lip. “Lord Baldwin is not in the solar, Sir Drake.”

  “Where else could he be?”

  Hesitantly, Jane said, “Lady Gunnora said the earl disturbs her sleep with his wheezing. She had him moved to a different bedchamber. I can show it to you. I was taking broth to Lord Baldwin.”