Knights of Honor Books 1-10: A Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Alexa Aston

  There was no guarantee she’d find a home in the north. Especially after she’d acted so boldly, penning a lie to Sir Henry in regard to her upcoming visit to Brookhaven. Lying was a sin and it weighed on her conscience. Mayhap she would be able to confess tomorrow when they reached the convent. That way, she could come to Sir Henry with a clean heart.

  Beatrice toyed with several ideas on how to approach the nobleman once they arrived. She might offer to act as a companion to his grandson’s bride. When the couple had children, looking after them would be another task in which she could be useful. Since they’d left the manor house, she’d done nothing but think of ways to discuss her situation with Sir Henry.

  Beatrice also prayed in earnest to the Holy Mother to give her the right words for when she spoke to the nobleman. If Sir Henry did not grant her refuge, she had no idea what she and Tolly would do once the money she’d sewn into the hem of her cotehardie was exhausted.

  She thrust her hand into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against her mother’s ruby ring. She knew better than to wear it out on the road. Such a fine piece of jewelry would bring unnecessary attention. Still, she liked having it within her grasp because it gave her comfort.

  “What’s that?” Tolly asked, surprise in his voice.

  Beatrice turned to look at the road and saw a dark shape in the middle of their path. With dusk falling, though, she couldn’t make out what the obstacle might be.

  Tolly slowed the cart and leaned over to pick up the lantern. He stood and held it high.

  “It’s a man. I must see to him.” The servant eased himself down from the driver’s seat and reached for the lantern to guide his way.

  She climbed down from the cart, as well. If the man was injured or ill, she could help.

  They approached the still figure. Beatrice checked his body, finding no apparent wounds. Perhaps a weak heart had caused his collapse.

  Tolly handed her the lantern and squatted next to the stranger. He rolled the man from his side to his back.

  Without warning, the man shrieked. His right hand swung up. Beatrice caught the glint of steel in the light. Before she could cry out in warning, the man shoved a blade into Tolly’s gut and wrenched it up.

  She watched in horror as Tolly’s eyes widened in surprise. He howled in pain and fell back as his hands grabbed for the buried dagger. As the stranger sat up, Beatrice ran back to the cart, the lantern swinging wildly at her side. Tolly kept an ax in the cart which he used to chop wood. She would threaten this man with it.

  But as she set the lantern in the cart and reached for the ax, she found a second man waiting in the bed. He’d already opened her trunk and was rifling through it, tossing clothes and books aside. A book hit the lantern and knocked it over, spilling oil everywhere. The clothes scattered in the bed of the wagon caught fire. The man sprang up and stomped at the flames. Beatrice latched onto the ax and swung it at his feet. He lost his balance and plunged headfirst into the growing fire. An earsplitting scream erupted as he scrambled to his feet, his clothes now in flames.

  Suddenly, the thief who’d stabbed Tolly grabbed her from behind. His arms locked around her waist as he lifted her from her feet. Beatrice held fast to the ax. Though she struggled to breathe, she kicked her captor as hard as she could as she watched the other highwayman fall from the flaming cart. He hit the ground and didn’t move. Beatrice landed several more blows against the man who held her. He finally released her, cursing loudly.

  Stumbling away, she raised her ax protectively as the highwayman advanced in her direction. When he drew close, she swung the weapon at him. He dodged the blade and made for the burning cart, reaching in to rescue her lute from the advancing flames.

  “Seems something good’s come from this.” The robber leered at her as he retreated from the vehicle. “This will fetch a good price—same as you—once I’m done with you.”

  Instead of his words causing fear, they riled Beatrice into action. Rushing at him, she swung the ax around and brought it forward as hard as she could. It landed where his head joined his neck. He dropped her lute and clutched at the ax embedded deeply in his flesh as he crumpled to the ground.

  Beatrice stared in horror at what she had done.

  Her gaze skimmed the fire and carnage surrounding her as she tried to comprehend what had occurred. Only minutes ago, they had been driving down the road, ready to make camp for the night. Now, Tolly and two strangers were dead.

  She heard a moan come from the burned robber and realized that he still lived. Despite what he had done, she rushed to his side. His charred fingers tightened around her ankle, causing her to panic.

  “Nay!” she cried, trying to shake him off as he clutched her. She stomped on his blackened arm and he released her. Running back to the cart, she stumbled against it. Immediately, flames licked at the edge of her cloak and Beatrice screamed. She had no time to unfasten the garment and toss it away. Instead, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the dirt to extinguish the flames.

  And then she spied a third stranger crouching next to her beloved lute.

  *

  Raynor’s spirits sank as he drew closer to Ashcroft. He loved his ancestral home, but sadness lingered ever since Peter’s wife died in childbirth several years ago. She had been a delicate creature and had already miscarried twice before carrying their third child to term. The midwife had done what she could, but his brother had watched his wife die. Hours later, his newborn son died in his arms.

  Peter Le Roux had never been the same man.

  Always quiet and preferring solitude over the company of others, Peter withdrew after he lost his family. Ashcroft was run under the careful supervision of Gobert, their efficient and caring steward, since Peter neglected most of his duties.

  Raynor wished his mother were still alive. She had been a strong-willed woman—much like Merryn de Montfort—and she would never have tolerated her older son’s failures. But she had died of a fever four springs ago, mere months after Peter’s wife and child had gone to their graves.

  His brother swore never to remarry, claiming he would wait to be reunited with his wife in the next life. That meant Ashcroft and the title would one day fall to Raynor if he outlived his brother.

  He thought back to the message Gobert had sent to him at Kinwick. The steward begged Raynor to return home. He revealed the estate was falling into disrepair and that Peter had no interest in fixing the issues. If change did not occur soon, Raynor would have no inheritance to claim.

  It was time to do whatever it took to bring his brother from the depths of his despair. Raynor berated himself for spending so much time with Merryn and the troubles she had encountered when he should have devoted more of his efforts toward Peter and Ashcroft. Raynor knew that somehow, some way, he would get through to his brother. They owed it to their tenants and the memory of their late parents.

  Twilight turned into dusk, so he slowed Fury’s pace. Though familiar with the road, he did not want the horse to stumble and break a leg when it was only a short ride to Ashcroft.

  Wait.

  Off in the distance, he heard something odd. Raynor pulled up on the reins and listened. An unearthly scream echoed in the night air. He urged his horse on, his heart racing. The screams were lost in the pounding of the hooves along the road. Raynor spotted a bright light ahead of him. As he rode closer, he realized it came from a fire. Fury flew the rest of the way, and Raynor tried to take in the scene before him.

  A woman rolled about in the dirt and then stopped. There was a body on the ground next to a burning cart. A man with an ax buried in his neck lay motionless a few yards away. Another body was several feet in front of the cart.

  By the Christ, what had happened here?

  Raynor dismounted and approached the woman, not wanting to alarm her. She struggled to her hands and knees and staggered toward the burning cart. He could see by the light of the fire that part of her cloak had burned away. He didn’t know if she had been injured, but he must
stop her before she reached the vehicle, which looked on the verge of collapse.

  A man huddled near the cart tried rising to his feet. Raynor had missed this stranger in all the mayhem. The woman roared in anger and threw herself at the man, landing on his back. Her arms fastened around his neck as she locked her legs about his waist.

  “Drop my lute!” she demanded.

  With one hand, the man tried to pry her fingers apart while his other hand held fast to a lute. Raynor realized this man and some of the scattered dead were highwaymen who’d attacked the woman, looking for things to steal.

  The thief began turning in circles as he grappled with the woman. Raynor raced toward the pair, motioning for the woman to let go of the man. She shook her head and continued to hang on.

  The robber flung the lute aside and Raynor caught it in mid-air. Gently, he placed it on the ground. Seeing her lute was safe, the woman released her hold on the thief and sprang away.

  Her sudden move threw the highwayman off-balance. Though he faltered, he still whipped a dagger from his belt and wheeled around to attack her. Then the man froze, catching sight of Raynor beside him.

  Raynor’s anger exploded. He unsheathed his sword and brandished it before running it through the man.

  Chapter 5

  Beatrice tried to catch her breath, only to have it taken away again as she watched the handsome newcomer put a quick end to her attacker. The robber fell to the ground. The man who towered over him with a grim expression on his face pulled his sword from the body, wiped the blood off on the dead man’s clothing and then sheathed it.

  He shot a look her way and started to speak, but the cry of the frantic horse attached to the cart distracted him. She watched as the cart started to split apart as the horse tried to break free. She was afraid the animal would trample Tolly’s body. The kind stranger reached the horse the moment the cart collapsed. He snatched the tangled reins and tried to calm the frightened beast. Beatrice shivered as the horse snorted and stomped its feet. She retreated several steps, her fear of horses ever present.

  The man led the horse from the smoldering remains of the vehicle. He stroked the animal’s neck and spoke to it softly. Beatrice turned back to her grandfather’s trusted servant and a lump formed in her throat. Wordlessly, Beatrice made her way to the body and knelt beside him. Tears blurred her vision as she stroked his cold cheek.

  Profound sadness overtook her at Tolly’s senseless death. If she had felt alone before, now she truly was. Everyone from her past had been taken away.

  “My lady?”

  Beatrice glanced over her shoulder and found the stranger standing behind her. He offered his hand and she took it.

  Though she hadn’t met many men in her isolated life, she knew, beyond a doubt, this tall, broad knight was the handsomest man she’d ever meet.

  Though she should fear being alone with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, instinct told Beatrice this was a good man who would treat her with respect.

  “My lady,” he repeated. “Could you tell me what happened here?”

  She brushed the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands and nodded. Taking a moment to compose herself, she was glad that this knight did not rush her.

  In that brief moment, Beatrice decided to lie to protect herself.

  “I was traveling with my dear servant to my wedding at Brookhaven.”

  “I see.”

  For now, she would do nothing to dispel the man of this notion—at least until she knew more about him.

  “We’ve been journeying for three days to Sir Henry Stollers’ estate, which is far to the north. We were about to stop for the night and make camp at a nearby stream.”

  “I am familiar with it,” the knight said.

  “Just as twilight fell, we came upon something blocking the road. Tolly stopped our cart, and we both climbed down. As we approached the form, we discovered that it was a man. We didn’t know how he came to be there, whether he had collapsed or been trampled by a horse or if he had fallen ill.”

  She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, fighting through the memories of the recent violence. She took a calming breath and pressed on.

  “The man stabbed poor Tolly with a knife, so I ran for the ax in the cart.”

  The knight frowned. “And what did you plan to do with this ax?”

  “Why, frighten the man away!” she exclaimed. “I assumed he was going to rob us. I wanted him gone so that I could tend to Tolly’s wound.” Beatrice halted as the images kept playing in her mind. “But I found a second man in the cart, going through my trunk. Somehow, the lantern I’d held overturned and started the fire. After that, things became a blur. The robber’s clothing caught fire and he fell from the cart. Then the man who had been in the middle of the road grabbed me. I struggled free, but he tried to take my lute. I had the ax and . . .” She searched for words, not finding any to describe what had happened. “Well, then my cloak caught fire. I managed to put out the fire.”

  She glanced down at what remained of the tattered cloak. “Then another thief appeared. He took my lute before the flames reached it.”

  “This lute must mean a great deal to you.”

  “Aye. It has comforted me in good times and bad, my lord. I would do anything to keep it safe.”

  “I saw exactly what lengths you were willing to go to in order to retrieve it from the robber.”

  A flush crept up her neck. “I will admit that I was determined. I have a great fondness for my lute.”

  “Indeed.” He paused. “I am sorry that you lost your servant.”

  She bit her trembling lip, unable to speak. She couldn’t imagine life without the quiet, steady servant. Only now, she realized how much she’d relied on Tolly.

  The knight interrupted her thoughts. “Did others travel with you?”

  “Nay,” she said. “Both my mother and grandfather passed away a sennight ago. We were . . . close. They were my whole world.”

  “And your father?” he asked gently.

  She shook her head. “He died long ago when I was but five.”

  Determination filled his face. “I want you to know that you may trust me implicitly, my lady, despite all that has happened to you in these woods. I am Sir Raynor Le Roux, a knight of the realm. I was traveling from Lord Geoffrey de Montfort’s estate of Kinwick to my family’s home of Ashcroft, where my brother is baron, when I came upon you and your misfortunes. ’Tis my duty as a knight to see to your safety and well-being.”

  “And I am Lady Beatrice Bordel.” She smiled. “Hopefully, you feel you can trust me, despite the fact that when you came upon me, I appeared as a wild woman might.”

  “You only defended what was yours.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Ashcroft is a short ride from here. I would ask that you return there with me so that I can see to your immediate needs.”

  She glanced at the destroyed cart and realized that every item she owned—beyond her lute—had gone up in flames. Nothing else remained. She had no home and only the clothes on her back. Tears began to well in her eyes as she took in the enormity of her situation.

  Beatrice picked up her lute, glad her beloved instrument had been saved from the fire. Suddenly, she seemed colder than she’d ever been. Her entire body quaked. Her knees buckled and she slipped to the ground.

  Then she found herself standing once more. Raynor Le Roux’s arms came about her. He enveloped her in an immense yet comforting heat. Beatrice buried her face in his chest.

  *

  Raynor tenderly held Beatrice Bordel as she cried. He couldn’t blame her. Not only had she recently lost two people close to her heart, she’d also witnessed the death of her devoted servant and her own life being threatened by thieves. That forced the lady to take violent action. The man on the ground didn’t put that ax in his own neck. Lady Beatrice had done so—and she would have to live with her actions for the rest of her life. Raynor could only imagine what might have happened to the noblewoman if he hadn’
t come along when he did.

  He looked at what little remained of the burned cart and the shell of her trunk, realizing that she probably had all her worldly possessions with her. Nothing had survived the fire. A few stray pieces of parchment fluttered in the wind, all that was left of what he guessed to be treasured books that accompanied her to a new life.

  The only thing this poor woman could lay claim to was her lute.

  Pity filled him. No one should have to face such circumstances, much less alone.

  As he held her, he hoped to ease her fears. He rubbed his large hands up and down her back, providing warmth and comfort.

  Her sobs stopped. As he repositioned her in his protective embrace, that’s when he became aware of her physical presence as a woman. Soft in all the right places. A foot shorter than he, his chin rested atop her silky, dark hair. Everything about having her in his arms felt right.

  But she was betrothed to Sir Henry.

  Raynor eased away from her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and put some distance between them while still holding her steady.

  “I will escort you to my home. Though you have lost your possessions, there are ample clothes at Ashcroft. My sisters wed many years ago. I lost my mother a few years back, and we can also draw from her chest to make sure you have a variety of things to wear.”

  He paused, watching her take in his words. “I will accompany you to your betrothed’s estate, my lady. I know my brother will allow a guard to come with us. You are perfectly safe in my care until I hand you over to Sir Henry.”

  She worried her lip, mulling what he’d told her. Raynor didn’t rush her decision.

  “I suppose that would be the wisest course of action,” she finally agreed. “And it’s not Sir Henry Stollers I marry. Sir Henry was my grandfather’s friend when they fostered together years ago. Sir Henry has a grandson named Edwin.”

  “Have you met Edwin Stollers?” Raynor found himself jealous of a man he’d never seen. The nobleman would gain quite a bride in this courageous young woman. Raynor had never met anyone he’d admired more. Lady Beatrice’s bravery this night in an impossible situation, coupled with her iron will to survive, put to shame most men. Her indomitable spirit had certainly earned his lasting respect.