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

by Alexa Aston

  She stroked the horse. “Do you see these wax-like beads at the end of her teats?”

  Michael squatted. “I do. They’re easily visible. What do they mean?”

  “Morningstar began dripping this late last night. Some droplets of milk also have appeared. That tells me she will deliver soon.” She patted the horse fondly. “And look here. A day ago her vulva began to swell and relax. It stretches in preparation for her to allow the foal to pass through the birth canal.”

  He looked carefully where she indicated. “I see.” He stood again.

  The mare snorted and began pacing around the stall. He noticed the space was actually two stalls that had been joined together. The wall between them had been knocked down. He decided to ask about it.

  “Aye, it was an idea I tried. Many dams like to move about during the process. I suggested we give them more room to do so.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the stall’s wall as she watched the horse move restlessly about.

  “She’s a bit cranky now. It’s all a part of it. She also drinks and expels her waste more frequently, but that tells me that everything is going as planned. She may want to be left alone now at this stage.” The woman indicated for him to exit the stall. She followed and came to stand next to him, just outside. “We can give her a bit of privacy but still be on hand in case she needs us.”

  Michael supposed this woman must be a groom’s daughter, if not the head groom, due to her knowledge.

  “Have you been around horses all your life?”

  A brilliant smile, bright as the noon sun, danced across her face. It drew him in like a siren’s call to a sailor. “I live for horses.”

  He heard the love and devotion in her words and admired her for becoming informed in an area most women knew nothing about.

  Of course, most women did not dress as she did. She wore all brown, her gypon and cotehardie barely covering her hips. Tight pants reached down to hug her long legs.

  He wondered idly what she looked like under her man’s clothing.

  They watched the horse pace nervously for some minutes. The mare walked and then lay down. Moments later, she came to stand again. She repeated that process several times. The horse also kicked at her abdomen more than a few times and pawed the ground. Michael was fascinated by what he observed.

  “Look. There. See how she breaks into a sweat along her neck and flanks?” the woman pointed out. “That’s another sign that tells us the chain of events is progressing as it should.”

  Michael watched her studying the mare. A tightness banded his chest. His pulse beat rapidly. He’d never experienced such feelings when viewing any woman, much less one dressed as a man.

  “I think we can go in again,” she whispered. “Keep your voice low and nonthreatening. Morningstar will go through three stages now. She may be fine on her own or we might have to help her along.”

  “And you’ll know what to do?”

  “Of course,” she said, looking at him as if he were an idiot.

  “So what will be this first part?”

  “Positioning her foal. She’s been nervously pacing. The standing and lying down are her way of helping to place the foal in a proper position so it will easily come through the birth canal.”

  Without warning, the woman gripped his forearm. “Look!” she said, her soft voice growing more animated.

  He watched as the mare expelled a rush of fluid from her body.

  “That helps lubricate the birth canal. Now the strong contractions will begin.”

  She continued gripping his arm without realizing it, standing close to him. Michael inhaled a faint scent of violets surrounding her. Her fingers almost seared through his armor as if scorching stronger than a burning fire. Though she only stood next to him, he began to feel aroused. He bit his tongue, trying to tamp down the arousal.

  The woman released her grasp and fell to her knees as the mare positioned herself on her side. The animal got up and down several times as before, extending her long legs as she strained with each contraction.

  He knelt, watching the labored breathing of the horse.

  “There! The foal is coming.”

  Michael saw the foal begin to emerge. First, the legs appeared, one slightly ahead of the other. Then the head came, tucked between the forelegs that now extended from the mare’s body. The head and neck that followed seemed enclosed in some bluish-white sac. The shoulders passed through next.

  Then nothing happened.

  “Why has she stopped?” he asked. “The babe isn’t fully delivered.”

  “She and the foal need to rest. Watch a moment. If Morningstar can be patient, so can you,” she teased.

  They waited a few minutes, then the woman sighed. “I was afraid this might happen. I’ll need to help her. Usually the sac breaks on its own, but sometimes a little push is required.”

  She pulled a dagger from her booted foot and approached the mare and half-delivered babe, cooing softly to them both. Then she made a small slit in the sac. Liquid rushed out. She picked up a piece of straw and tickled around the foal’s nose.

  “I’m clearing the passage so her foal can breathe,” she explained. “We don’t want the newborn to suffocate.” She stroked the mother reassuringly, telling her what a fine job she was doing.

  Michael watched her gentle touch with both mother and foal. Strong emotion flooded him at the tenderness he witnessed before him.

  After some minutes, the foal’s hips came through. Then the mare took another period of rest before he watched the last of the foal finally appear. Immediately, the mare began to rise. The new foal struggled, and Michael saw the umbilical cord break in the process. He marveled at the wonder of birth.

  “We need to watch now for the placenta. ’Tis the last stage and most important to observe carefully. The contractions will continue in an effort to expel it from her body. Poor Morningstar,” she said, her voice low and pleasant. “I know, my sweetling. I know. You’re hurting now. But it’s almost over. Be patient.” She stroked the horse gently.

  They sat in companionable silence for the hour it took before the placenta came out. The woman retrieved it and examined it closely.

  “Good.” She nodded, a pleased look on her face. “Nothing broke off, so I won’t have to recover any of the missing pieces.”

  Michael shuddered, not wanting to think what that might entail.

  Instead, he focused on the new foal. While they’d waited for the mother to finish the final stage of the birth, the foal had learned to stand on its feet. It pained him when the newborn hadn’t been able to do so the first or second time. By the third attempt, Michael grinned as it managed to stand and stay upright, though it swayed slightly.

  “Now I need this little one to nurse.” The woman maneuvered the newborn toward its mother and the waiting teat. After a little encouragement, the foal latched on to the mother’s teat and began sucking enthusiastically. The noise was the only one that filled the stable.

  Finally, the woman stood. Her braid had loosened. Honeyed tendrils escaped and surrounded her face. She looked tired but utterly satisfied.

  Much like a woman did after he’d thoroughly made love to her.

  Michael felt a deep longing for this woman. She had ordered him about, but he rather liked her bossy ways. His physical attraction to her had grown with each hour they’d spent together.

  What would Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn think if he returned with a bride from this trip?

  Michael knew Lady Merryn would be pleased. She’d taken to him and always complimented him when he played with Hal. Mayhap the countess could arrange a cottage for the two of them and his new wife could work with the de Montfort horses.

  He couldn’t believe such fanciful thoughts danced in his head. He’d risen this morning as a single man. Now the idea of wedding and bedding the woman before him was all he could think of. After the awful example of his parents’ marriage, it was a wonder he’d even dwell on such matters.

  Ye
t, he gazed at the woman as she lovingly stroked first the foal, then the mother. She drew close and pressed a kiss upon the flank of Morningstar and then another as she moved to the horse’s head and kissed the creature between the ears.

  Watching her with these two animals brought a wave of desire that exploded within him. ’Twas unfamiliar . . . yet exhilarating.

  Michael realized this was what Geoffrey and Merryn had, something so deep that it transcended all else. He wanted it. Wanted it desperately. He would find out who this woman’s father was and ask for her hand.

  He laughed heartily and the woman glanced at him, rewarding him with a sweet smile for the hours he’d spent helping her.

  Michael supposed the first thing he should learn was her name. That might prove helpful when he asked for her hand in marriage.

  Chapter 4

  Elysande rose to her feet and used her forearm to brush away the stray hairs tickling her forehead. She looked down at her stained clothing and realized she looked a frightening mess. Though physically worn to the bone, she still could have floated back to the keep. The birth of a foal never ceased to amaze and invigorate her.

  She looked to the man who had come to her aid so many hours ago. Michael. That was his name.

  For the first time that day, Elysande really saw him. Before, he’d simply been an extra pair of hands, making the entire process go more smoothly.

  Now?

  Everything changed in an instant.

  He was well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a massive chest. Thick hair black as night. Cheekbones chiseled as if from stone. Lips full and sensuous. Staring at them made her begin to tingle in a most unusual—but pleasant—way. She had never kissed a man, but the only thought racing through her mind was that she wanted to press her mouth to his.

  And keep it there. Forever.

  Their eyes met. His piercing blue ones held hers as if she had been taken prisoner by him. Elysande couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

  Wordlessly, she took a step toward him.

  “You are in so much trouble!”

  The spell broke.

  Elysande looked over Michael’s shoulder and saw Avelyn there, her hands fisted on her hips, her face grim.

  She blew out a long breath. “I might have known I’d find you here. You’ve been gone for hours. You were absent from the noon meal. You missed meeting—”

  “But Morningstar foaled. Look. ’Tis a boy.”

  Avelyn’s face softened into a smile as she spied the mother and foal fast asleep on the hay. Her lips pursed a moment. “I suppose that’s an acceptable excuse. But you must come. Now. The evening meal will be served in less than an hour.” Then she looked to Michael and dropped a curtsey. “Good day to you, sir. I fear, in my scolding, I misplaced my good manners. I am Lady Avelyn Le Cler. Are you one of my uncle’s knights?”

  Michael nodded. “I am, my lady. Lord Geoffrey has looked forward to meeting you. And to attending the wedding, of course.”

  Avelyn smiled. “He’s a lovely man and Lady Merryn is so lively. We’re delighted they could attend the wedding with such short notice.”

  “They are kind and generous people, my lady. I’m glad that you have the chance to spend time with them and your young cousins.”

  “Well, I see you’ve helped in Morningstar’s foaling. Much thanks to you.” She looked to her sister. “Please. We must make you presentable. I fear even a foaling will not be an accepted excuse.”

  Avelyn latched on to her hand and began to pull Elysande away. She called over her shoulder, “My thanks for your help. Mayhap, later tonight, you can come with me to check on the foal’s progress.”

  “’Twould be my fondest wish,” Michael shouted to her as Avelyn dragged her through the stable.

  “Mother is furious at you for not greeting our kin. And you’re filthy. We’ll barely have time to bathe you before we dine. Oh, I hope Lord Holger doesn’t notice you in such a state. You know how cross he becomes when he sees you dressed in this manner, Elysande.”

  She didn’t care what her stepfather thought. She let herself be tugged through the inner bailey and into the keep. They reached their shared chamber, where a steaming bath awaited her. Avelyn rushed her from her clothes and into the water and began scrubbing her from head to toe.

  Elysande sat back and let her sister take charge. Her thoughts turned to her uncle’s knight. Michael’s laugh had been deep and masculine. Not a thing like Hendry’s. Her betrothed’s was high and squeaky, as was his voice. Again, she bemoaned the fact that her father had contracted her to a man she already knew she would never respect.

  The betrothal had surprised her, for he hadn’t asked her opinion regarding it—which was so unlike him. He had treated both his daughters well, allowing them to pursue their passions. Hers had been languages and horses. She could write in Latin and spoke French, though she had a hard time with the difficult spelling of the musical language. Her father had never admonished her for dressing comfortably while she worked with the horses. In fact, he’d encouraged her interest in them. She owed most of her knowledge to his teachings since he loved the beasts as much as she did. They’d spent many pleasurable hours in one another’s company in the stables or pastures or out riding the land.

  Elysande’s thoughts floated back to Michael. His image loomed large as she closed her eyes. That unusual tingling occurred again. She longed to touch her hand to his cheek, where a tiny, white scar had stood out against his olive skin. She wanted to do nothing more than kiss the man—a stranger!

  Where did these bizarre feelings come from?

  She barely knew him though they’d spent hours together in close proximity. She could recall his scent, a mixture of leather and horse and something achingly male. Elysande shuddered.

  “Has the water chilled already?”

  Avelyn’s words interrupted her pleasant recollection.

  “Nay, ’tis nothing.”

  Her sister held a bath sheet out. “Come. Stand. Let me dry you.” She clicked her tongue in displeasure. “We’ll never get your hair dry in time. I’ll simply rebraid it. And Mother already set out a new cotehardie for you. She wants you to look your best when you meet Uncle Geoffrey and his family.”

  Elysande allowed Avelyn to dress her and redo her hair. She decided not to let her thoughts linger on Michael. It would be foolish to fixate upon another man when she would be married in less than a week’s time.

  “You look lovely.” Avelyn kissed her cheek. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, Elysande, I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “Then you must come visit me in the north. Mayhap, my new husband’s family will know of an appropriate match with a nearby nobleman. It would be more tolerable living far away in the north—if you could be close to me.”

  She smoothed the pale cream cotehardie, admiring the rich color of the emerald green embroidery. It was one of several that had been sewn for her in the last month in preparation for her wedding and the trip to her new home. Elysande decided to do more than hint to Hendry about finding a husband for Avelyn. If left up to Lord Holger, who knew what bridegroom her stepfather might select for her sister? She’d rather have a hand in helping to choose Avelyn’s husband. Mayhap Hendry had some unattached, nearby cousin that would suit if not brothers of his own that might be persuaded to marry her sister.

  They left the bedchamber and made their way down to the great hall. Trestle tables had already been set out for the evening meal. Many of the people of Hopeston gathered near them in conversation after a long day’s work.

  “Elysande!”

  She heard her mother’s voice call to her. She spied her mother standing with her stepfather and another couple. Elysande assumed the two would be her uncle and aunt-by-marriage. She hurried toward them, Avelyn not far behind her.

  Her mother gave her what she and Avelyn called The Look. Mary used it only when severely displeased with either of them. Then it vanished as quickly as it came. Elysande knew she had a b
rief reprieve from the tongue-lashing that would occur behind closed doors, thanks to her absence for most of the day. She put on a smile and greeted their guests.

  “Uncle Geoffrey. Aunt Merryn.” Elysande gave each of them a kiss. “I’m happy that you could attend my wedding. Mother couldn’t wait for your arrival.” She paused. “I must apologize for not being present to meet you when you arrived. My horse, Morningstar, began to foal early this morning and I’ve been with her all day.” She grinned. “I’m happy to report that a new male foal now rests with his mother in the stable.”

  Geoffrey laughed. “You definitely have de Montfort blood in you, Elysande. We do love our horses.”

  Elysande looked to her mother in surprise. “Truly?”

  Mary shrugged. “I spent my fair share of time with Eloisa and the horses growing up. After I married, running a household became more of a priority.” She looked to her husband, who gave a curt nod.

  Merryn linked an arm through Elysande’s. “We’re so pleased to be at Hopeston. Come, I want you to meet our children, your cousins. We have twins and then a younger one.”

  Her aunt led her across the room. Elysande saw a boy and girl chasing after a small child that ran around with a gleeful look on his face as he skillfully avoided them.

  “Oh, my!” she exclaimed. “They’re miniature versions of you and Uncle Geoffrey.”

  Merryn laughed. “We hear that all the time. Children! Come meet your cousin.”

  The twins corralled their brother and came to greet them. The boy was tall and sturdy, while the girl was dainty and graceful. Elysande thought Geoffrey and Merryn must have looked much as these two did when they were the same age.

  “Elysande, may I present my son, Ancel, who fosters with the Earl of Winterbourne, and my daughter, Alys, who attends Queen Philippa at the royal court. And for now, they have little Hal in their grasps. Hal might escape at any moment.”

  The twins greeted her with enthusiasm, asking all sorts of questions. She found them delightful children, while the little one kept Elysande laughing with his antics.