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

by Alexa Aston

  The large room had a high ceiling. A long table with benches on each side sat in the center of the room. This would be where the family could retire for a more intimate meal. Other chairs and small tables were scattered about. A chess set rested upon one of them. Picking up a rook, she found the playing piece covered in a layer of dust. Obviously, no one had played any games for some time.

  She crossed to another closed door and knocked, doubting anyone was inside. Opening it, she discovered the largest bedchamber in the entire keep. Even if she had put the three bedchambers at the manor house together, they would have fit inside this one with room to spare.

  Beatrice walked to the bed and drew back the curtains and fingered the bedclothes. Though worn, they seemed clean. The pillows needed to be replaced, as did the curtains, but she could tell someone cleaned the solar on a regular basis.

  “Who are you?” a voice demanded.

  Startled, Beatrice turned and found a man standing in the doorway, his face in shadows. He stepped forward, looking unkempt, wearing tattered clothing, and sporting an untrimmed beard.

  No one needed to tell her that Peter Le Roux stood before her. The baron was a pale shadow of Raynor, different in many ways. Though tall, he was still shorter than his younger brother. Lord Peter was also thin, where Raynor was muscled. Still, the baron had the Le Roux skin and hair. Despite his angry tone, his eyes appeared dull and lifeless. They had none of the spark of fun and mischief that Raynor’s possessed.

  Beatrice curtsied to him. “Lord Peter. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Lady Beatrice Bordel. Your—”

  He marched toward her and captured her upper arms in his hands, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. “I don’t care who you are. What are doing in my bedchamber, dragging in your filth?”

  She glanced down and saw how soiled her clothing had become from beating the dust from the tapestries. “I am . . . that is . . . Sir Raynor brought me here. He came—”

  “He dares to bring one of his whores here? And you enter my solar, where . . . my beloved wife . . .” His voice cracked. He flung her aside.

  Beatrice stumbled back, the edge of the bed prevented her from falling. This nobleman’s violence caused her temper to flare.

  She stood tall and faced him. “I am no leman, my lord,” she proclaimed. “Sir Raynor saved my life several nights ago. I was accosted by highwaymen who killed my servant. Sir Raynor brought me to safety here at Ashcroft. And though he spoke fondly of his home, even I could see his embarrassment at what this place has become.”

  The nobleman’s eyes widened in surprise. Beatrice knew not to speak to a lord in such a rude manner, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “The great hall stank of piss and dung and rotting food. Your soldiers are lax and undisciplined. The autumn harvest has barely begun. You were nowhere to be found.”

  Beatrice shook a finger at him. “You should be ashamed of what you haven’t done. How you’ve left your people struggling. Sir Raynor has organized the serfs and begun the harvest in earnest. He’s met the men in the training yard and is making sure your soldiers will protect Ashcroft. To repay him for saving my life, I told him I would help make improvements inside the keep. That is why I am in your chamber, my lord. I’ve been to every room in order to see what must be done to restore Ashcroft to a clean and comfortable home. Once I’ve completed my tasks and the harvest is collected, I’ll be gone from your sight.”

  Lord Peter sucked in a breath.

  Beatrice pushed on, this time softening her tone. “Aye, I know you lost a wife and your precious newborn. No man should have to face such sorrow. But the people of Ashcroft depend upon you, my lord. Your brother depends upon you. Rouse yourself from your stupor and be the baron that they need.”

  Beatrice folded her arms against her protectively, suddenly afraid she’d gone too far. This nobleman could have her severely punished for simply raising her voice to him. She bit her lip to still the trembling of her mouth. Her defiance died as her temper cooled.

  Peter Le Roux closed his mouth and studied her for some time. Then he said, “You are the woman I have been waiting for, Beatrice Bordel. The one who would wake me from this living death.”

  He closed the gap between them and placed his hands upon her shoulders.

  “I want to take you to wife.”

  Chapter 12

  Raynor finished riding the border around Ashcroft. After he’d fled Beatrice’s company, he had spent the rest of the afternoon on Fury, touring the remaining parts of the estate he hadn’t seen since his return home. Already, he noted that the storage barn needed shoring up, as did the hen house. He found numerous places in the fence that needed mending. Soon, he would take more time to thoroughly examine the cottages where the workers lived, but first he would address these more pressing repairs.

  Raynor climbed down from Fury and began to pace, thoughts swirling through his mind. He’d always found comfort in movement. Striding across the meadow, he looked to the castle in the distance. In the silence, he reflected on what he’d deliberately pushed from his thoughts all afternoon.

  That kiss.

  From the moment his mouth touched hers, he knew that it was a mistake—yet that awareness hadn’t stopped him from plundering the rich sweetness of her. Raynor had kissed his share of women.

  None had the effect on him that Lady Beatrice Bordel did.

  With Beatrice in his arms, Raynor had felt as if he could conquer the world. He came alive as never before, unmitigated awareness coursing through his veins.

  Yet, he feared he would never have her because she belonged to another. For that reason alone, he would miss out on the life he’d always dreamed of.

  He pulled the ever-present blue garter from his pocket, the one he had removed from Merryn’s leg on the day of her wedding to Geoffrey. Geoffrey had told his bride that his cousin would give the keepsake to a special woman one day, one that Raynor would swear to love and be faithful to always. More than anything, he wanted the garter to belong to Beatrice.

  Raynor knew it was foolish to dwell on such a hopeless situation. She was an innocent and a betrothed woman. Above all, he was a knight of the realm, pledged to support his king, honor women, and dedicating himself to God. If he compromised Beatrice’s reputation and became derelict in his oath, he would be worthless.

  As he paced, Raynor remembered that he had neglected to send a messenger to Sir Henry Stollers. What greeted him upon his arrival at Ashcroft had driven the thought away. So much about his home still had to be addressed, yet Raynor needed to let the nobleman know that Beatrice was safe and that he would escort her to Brookhaven in due time for her wedding.

  He toyed with the idea of sending her to Brookhaven tomorrow in the company of others, but who could he rely on to protect her during such a long journey? At this point, few men in the soldiers’ ranks had gained his trust. It was important for those men to remain at Ashcroft in order to aid him as he trained a new force to protect the castle and its inhabitants. It was up to him to lead the castle’s knights and soldiers by example. Leaving now to take Beatrice north wasn’t a choice.

  Raynor also knew Beatrice to be an honorable woman. She would feel an obligation to repay the debt she believed she owed him. Even if he insisted she leave in the morning, she would be stubborn enough to defy him and demand to stay until Ashcroft was returned to its former days.

  Stopping in his tracks, he knew what he must do—push aside his romantic feelings. After all, he would only see her briefly in the mornings at mass and while they broke their fast. They would attend to separate duties throughout the day.

  Only at night, when they dined together, would he have to spend much time in her company. The thought of sharing a trencher tore at his gut. He swore then and there never to be alone with her again. When they were thrown together in the company of others, he would keep their conversation light and only speak of inconsequential matters.

  He would need to approach the situation as i
f he marched into battle. Just as he armed his body with protective armor to repel his enemies, he must now arm his heart against letting Beatrice into it any deeper.

  Raynor mounted his horse, determined to hold fast to his plan.

  *

  “You wish to . . . marry me?”

  Shock reverberated through Beatrice. This nobleman wanted to wed her? For a brief moment, she considered it, tempted by how it could change everything.

  She had no home and no one to protect her. She had only a few gold coins that wouldn’t last for long. She would soon embark upon a journey to the estate of a man she had never laid eyes upon. If Sir Henry had no need of her—or outright rejected her—her future was one of uncertainty.

  Dare she consider this rash offer of marriage from a stranger?

  Marrying Peter Le Roux could solve all of her existing problems. She would have a roof over her head, as well as a titled husband that would bring her instant respect. If lucky, even friendship might grow between them.

  Or mayhap . . . love.

  That thought jarred her from the fantasy she wove. For if she married Peter Le Roux, she would wed a pale shadow of Raynor—the man who held her heart.

  And what would it be like when Raynor took a wife? Naturally, he would bring her to live at Ashcroft. Beatrice would be expected to befriend the woman while she saw her interact with her husband each day. Beatrice would watch as they shared a trencher at every meal. She would see when Raynor stole a kiss from his new bride when he thought no one was looking. And she would be heartsick when the couple mounted the stairs at night, knowing another woman warmed his bed and birthed his children.

  Beatrice could never live that way. Starving would be preferable over having another piece of her die each day as she watched the man she loved make a new life with another woman.

  But it meant perpetuating the lie she had told—the seemingly innocent lie that she’d used to protect herself when a passing stranger came out of the dark and rescued her that night in the forest. She needed to add to it in order to convince Peter Le Roux from pressing his suit.

  Searching the face of the man who had just offered for her hand, Beatrice chose her words carefully.

  “My lord, I am flattered to receive this proposal of marriage from you. ’Twould be an honor to become your baroness and raise fine sons and daughters here at Ashcroft. I wish I could accept, but I fear I cannot.”

  Puzzlement crossed his features. “Why not? I am in good health. I have no wife, as you pointed out. Ashcroft is in need of a woman with a steady hand and sharp eye.” He smiled and she saw his white, even teeth. “Surely, my lady, you could work wonders with not only the castle, but with me.” He gave her a wider smile and, again, she could see the ghost of Raynor within him.

  “I cannot wed you because I am promised to another. Betrothed,” she said more firmly, using the word that would put an end to him seeking her out. “I was traveling to Sir Henry Stollers’ estate in the north when I was accosted by highwaymen. Sir Henry was my grandfather’s oldest, dearest friend. He has a grandson close to my age and we are to be married in three months’ time.”

  There. She’d said it. It would take hours of prayers asking for forgiveness from the Virgin Mary for such a grievous sin—but at least it would end the baron’s pursuit of her.

  The nobleman’s hands fell from her shoulders in defeat. “I see,” he said quietly.

  “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I still have much to attend to.”

  Beatrice fled the bedchamber. She paused in the corridor. Her heart raced and her knees trembled. More than that, her head pounded something fierce. She leaned her forehead against the cool stones of the wall and closed her eyes, her thoughts whirling.

  Had she made a grave mistake? Should she have accepted Peter Le Roux’s sudden offer? Could she have learned to live with him, while she watched Raynor with another woman?

  No.

  She resigned herself to spending another few weeks at Ashcroft in Raynor’s company, longing for him every day. He would accompany her to the north and Beatrice would never see the knight again. Every day of her life would be full of misery.

  How had she gotten into such a mess?

  If only she could have defended herself and Tolly from those highwaymen. Mayhap, then the two of them would still be on the road toward Brookhaven. Raynor Le Roux would never have stopped and come to her aid. She would never have known the warmth of his arms. The concern that filled those green eyes.

  The kisses he had bestowed upon her.

  Beatrice would never have known any of it, for they never would have met. Or if he had come upon them as she vanquished the robbers, they would have exchanged a few brief words before going their separate ways.

  She knew now what she would ask of Raynor when she next saw him.

  Returning downstairs, she asked for hot water to be brought to her chamber. The servants arrived and also gave her a cake of scented soap. As she scrubbed the filth from her body, the scent of roses wafted about her. She dried herself and dressed carefully in a different cotehardie. This one was the color of warmed gold and fit her better than her earlier choice had.

  As she descended the stairs, the noise coming from the great hall let her know the evening meal would be served soon.

  When she walked through the large room, a hush settled over the hall. Beatrice smiled with satisfaction as she approached the dais, knowing the many days of toil were appreciated by those who gathered inside.

  Raynor stood to greet her and offered her a hand to help her up. They seated themselves on the bench.

  “My lady, I must compliment you on the miracle you have wrought in the great hall. My spirits were lifted to enter and smell the sweet scent of fresh rushes and see the clean floor.” He brushed his hand over the smoothed tabletop. “And I can even feel the difference in the table before us. If this were the only contribution you made during your visit, ’twould be more than enough.”

  “I hope those present appreciate it as much as you do, my lord.”

  He waved a hand through the air. “Look about, my lady. Your efforts have been noted.”

  Beatrice glanced across the room and knew his words to be true by the happy expressions on the faces of the people.

  “It’s a good start, but I have much more to complete in my time here.”

  A passing servant poured each of them wine. She gave a hesitant smile as Beatrice thanked her.

  “How did you fare in the herb garden?” Beatrice asked, recognizing the girl as one of the servants Hilda had taken with her to collect herbs.

  “Very well, my lady. I hope you’ll be pleased with what we picked.”

  “Would you like my help in drying and pressing what was collected?”

  The girl’s eyes lit up. “That I would.”

  “After we break our fast tomorrow, we’ll work together.”

  The servant bobbed her head and left.

  “So, you delegated the task of picking herbs?”

  Beatrice caught the teasing light in Raynor’s eye. “I did, my lord. I had other tasks to carry out. I examined each of the chambers in the keep and made note of what should be done. Not everything may be finished before I depart from Ashcroft, but I should make a good start on my list.”

  A shadow crossed his face as she referred to her departure. She decided to address what had occurred between them before he did. Beatrice believed there was no sense in letting it brew and fester.

  “My lord, you know I am beholden to you for your help. I was in a dire situation when you came across me and I appreciate that you brought me back to Ashcroft with you.” She paused. “I hope that we can become friends while I’m here. That nothing which occurred today will keep us from becoming so.”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I would like that, my lady.”

  “I hope that things will not be awkward between us because of—”

  “My ungallant behavior,” he said. He looked at her earnestly. “I can’t
apologize enough for my untoward actions. I pray you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” she said softly. “I was as much a participant in those kisses as you were, my lord.” She swallowed and then pressed on. “But I hope that will not keep us at a distance during my stay at Ashcroft or when we journey to Brookhaven.”

  Raynor smiled. Beatrice noted it was tinged with sadness. “Then if you’re willing, so am I. Let’s put the unfortunate incident behind us. I promise to keep my knightly vows in mind, and I would welcome the chance to become friends during your stay in my family’s home.”

  She lifted her pewter goblet. “To friendship.”

  He did the same. “To friendship.”

  They touched their cups together, but how Beatrice wished they had touched lips instead. Though she told Raynor she wished for friendship, what she longed for was something more. Knowing that could never be, she would treasure any time spent in his company. She would lock the memory of them away for now and then take it out to savor over the years to come.

  Hoping to gather some courage, she downed a huge swallow of wine and set her cup on the table. “I have a request of you.”

  Raynor frowned. “Is something amiss? What can I do to correct the matter?”

  “Nay, all is well. I simply have need of your skills. I . . . what I mean is . . . I would like to learn to fight. To protect myself. I know you can show me how to do so.”

  He looked surprised. “But I am here, my lady. You have no need to learn to protect yourself. ’Tis what I—and every other man—should do for you.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “Nay, I do want to learn. You will look after me here and on the road. But I’ll be left at Brookhaven where I don’t know a soul.” She took another sip of the wine. “I found myself at a terrible disadvantage when accosted by those highwaymen. I keep telling myself that if I could have stood up to them, Tolly might still be alive.”

  “I doubt that. ’Twas three of them to your one.”