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

by Alexa Aston

  Ancel swallowed. “I have never talked to another soul about this but I wanted you to know, for their story is a part of my own.”

  Margery pressed a soft kiss against his jaw but remained silent.

  He waited and then said, “You will meet Raynor at the wedding. He acted like a father to Alys and me. Raynor will always hold a special place in my heart. I think you will adore his wife, Beatrice. She is the tiniest thing, with a will of iron and a heart full of kindness. Their two boys foster with my uncle Hugh, while Cecily, their only daughter, has recently returned home from fostering at Wellbury.”

  “I look forward to meeting them and all of your relatives.”

  “As for Jessimond? Nan and Father stumbled upon her. She’d been placed in a basket and left on Kinwick lands, practically a newborn. Though we tried to find them, her parents were never located. Mother loves nothing more than a small babe, so she and Father embraced Jessimond as their own. She is the youngest de Montfort, loved as much by them as any of their other children.”

  Margery raised her head and gazed into Ancel’s eyes. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. It makes me love you—and your family—even more. You come from loving, generous parents. I feel privileged to be marrying into the de Montfort family and will be proud to carry your name.”

  With that, her lips touched his. The kiss started gently and then heated up. Ancel’s tongue slipped into Margery’s mouth and drank in her sweetness. His hand caressed her neck and dipped to her breast, fondling it, teasing the nipple till it stood at attention. His mouth trailed downward, kissing the top of her perfect globes, wishing he could do more. Much more.

  He lifted his head and took a deep breath, trying to gain control of his emotions. “I don’t think it would be wise to continue this further. Father may have offered us the solar for some privacy but I don’t think that extended to finding us naked in his and Mother’s bed,” he teased.

  “We will be together soon,” Margery promised.

  He thought a moment. “Are you—do you know—if you are with child from our previous coupling?”

  “’Tis too early to tell.” She smiled. “If I am, I hope you will be pleased.”

  Ancel smiled. “I will always be pleased with you, Margery. Forever and ever.” His mouth returned to hers and they kissed until a discreet knock sounded at the solar’s door.

  He stood and placed Margery in a nearby chair and went to answer it. His mother swept in, a basket on her arm.

  She gave them a knowing smile but merely said, “Let me look at your face, Margery. I have something that will help heal it quickly.”

  Ancel excused himself and left the room, his step light—and his heart even lighter.

  *

  Margery awoke and felt Jessimond’s warmth as the girl snuggled against her. She must have slipped in beside Margery sometime during the night. Whitefoot nestled at her feet, while Cecily Le Roux, Raynor and Beatrice’s daughter, slept on her other side. Just as Ancel predicted, Margery already adored the pair. She found Cecily, who was seven and ten, to be a great beauty with even greater goodness in her heart. The two Le Roux boys fostered with Merryn’s brother. They would arrive today with Hugh and Milla Mantel in time for the wedding, as would Lord Hardwin and Lady Johamma, who would bring Ancel’s brothers, Hal and Edward.

  She lay in bed, happiness spilling from her. Alys and Kit had returned as promised, bringing their three children. Ancel’s cousin, Elysande, came three days ago with her husband and their three children. Elysande’s sister, Avelyn, arrived a day after with her husband and their two children. The keep had been full of noise and laughter as Margery got to know Ancel’s extended family.

  It was a bit overwhelming, though, and she was grateful when Elysande took her to the quiet of the stables. Ancel had told Margery that Elysande knew more about horses than anyone in all of England, male or female. She had given Margery a riding lesson and made small adjustments in the way Margery held the reins and sat on her horse. They had ridden together again yesterday in the meadow and now Margery bloomed with confidence. She hoped when she next rode out from Kinwick that it might be on her own horse. More than anything, she wanted Ancel to be proud of her.

  A knock sounded at the door and Merryn entered, bearing a tray. Alys and Beatrice followed closely behind.

  “Wake up, everyone,” Merryn called out. “Margery needs to break her fast quickly since hot water for her bath will soon arrive.”

  Nan grumbled from the other bed as she sat up, complaining about what Merryn insisted she wear for the wedding.

  “Christine worked hard on your new cotehardie, Nan, and you look wonderful in it,” her mother said firmly. “You may not appreciate it but you will wear it.”

  Nan remained silent but Margery knew the girl would please her mother and wear her new clothing. At least for today.

  Alys shrugged as she told Margery, “I could say the same thing to Philippa and she would argue with me all the day long. Mother has the magic touch when it comes to children.”

  Margery shared her meal with Jessimond, but the small child ate more than she did. Her excitement kept her from eating much. Then Elysande and Avelyn arrived to help her with her bath. Avelyn washed her hair, while Elysande laid out her clothes. Ancel’s cousins helped dry and dress her, then Cecily combed out her hair as Margery sat by the fire in order for it to dry more quickly.

  Suddenly, Philippa burst into the room and ran to her mother, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” Alys asked as she pulled her daughter into her lap.

  “Raynor is mean,” Philippa declared.

  “Why do you say that?” her mother asked.

  “He won’t make a sword for Wyatt and me. He made one for you and Uncle Ancel, Mother. He should make one for us.”

  “Did Raynor give you a reason, Philippa?” Beatrice asked.

  The girl’s bottom lip stuck out. “He said we weren’t old enough. That we had to be six.”

  “Well, that is when he made wooden swords for Ancel and me,” Alys said. “You and Wyatt are only five, Philippa. When you turn six, you will be taller and stronger and more capable of holding your wooden sword and learning how to use it.”

  “But that’s too long,” complained Philippa.

  “Nay, little love. The two of you will be six come March. ’Tis only two months away.”

  “So Raynor will make us a sword then?”

  “I will make sure he does,” Beatrice assured Philippa.

  The child beamed as she climbed off her mother’s lap. She took Jessimond’s hand. “Let’s play.” The two girls skipped out of the room, Whitefoot wagging his tail merrily as he followed them.

  “See what you have to look forward to, Margery?” asked Alys.

  “I cannot wait.” Margery grinned. “Even if I have terrible twins.”

  With her hair combed and dry, Avelyn arranged it in an artful style. Merryn gave Margery a hand mirror to see the results. Her reflection pleased her. Not only had Avelyn done a worthy job, but the salve Margery had used on her face had rid her of any swelling and bruises. She would go to Ancel looking her best, wearing her new chemise, kirtle, and cotehardie that Christine had created from material brought back from London.

  “I cannot imagine a more beautiful bride,” Merryn said as she kissed Margery’s cheek.

  “The russet and blue make for a lovely combination,” Cecily agreed. “I hope I will marry in finery like this.”

  “I will be happy to lend Christine and her talents to you, Cecily, when your time comes,” Margery promised.

  A loud rap drew the attention of all the women packed inside the bedchamber. Geoffrey stuck his head in and said, “It’s time.”

  Everyone filed from the room, leaving only Margery and Merryn. Geoffrey stepped inside and took Margery’s hands.

  “Merryn and I already look upon you as a daughter, Margery. The joy we see on Ancel’s face tells us of the great love he has for you.” He bent
and kissed her cheek. “Your father awaits you. Let me escort you to him.”

  They left the room. At the end of the corridor, at the top of the stairs, Margery saw Lord Myles. It still amazed her that Ancel had found this nobleman and that he’d acknowledged her as his offspring.

  Geoffrey and Merryn preceded them down the staircase. Her father lifted her hand and brushed a kiss against her knuckles.

  “You are a vision of loveliness, my dear. You resemble your mother in so very many ways. I only wish she could be here to share this day with you.”

  She saw the wistful look in his eyes and ached for him. He had been forced to let go of the woman he loved and spent a lifetime apart from her.

  “I believe she is watching over us, Father, and that she is happy we have found one another.”

  “I think so, too,” he agreed. “But come, Daughter. You have a man who loves you dearly. He is impatiently waiting for you outside the Kinwick chapel.”

  Her father led them from the keep and across the bailey to where a large group gathered in the cold, though it pleased her that the day proved to be a sunny one. Margery saw many of the relatives she had recently met, as well as others who worked the land or served the de Montforts in different capacities. Sarah gave her a wave and smile, while Harry winked at her.

  Then suddenly, Margery stood before Ancel, resplendent in midnight blue and gold. The chill of the winter day dissipated when she saw the heat in his hazel eyes. He took her hand in his and drew her near. Warmth enveloped her.

  They spoke their vows in front of the crowd but they only had eyes for one another. Minutes later, the priest called for Ancel to produce the wedding ring. He turned to Hal, his brother, who acted as the best man. A grinning Hal handed the ring to Ancel, who faced Margery and slipped it onto her thumb. She chose to look into his eyes as he spoke his vows to her.

  “In the name of the Father.” He withdrew the ring and placed it on her first finger. “And of the Son.” He changed it again to the next finger. “And of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  Once more, Margery felt Ancel pull the ring away before he slid it onto the finger where it would rest from now on.

  “With this ring, I thee wed. This gold and silver, I thee give. With my body, I thee worship and with this dowry, I thee endow.”

  She tore her gaze from him to finally look at the ring that would forever be a part of her—and gasped. The ring wasn’t the silver band they had chosen in London. Instead, it was an intricate pattern of garnets inlaid within a silver band. It closely resembled her pendant and her father’s pin.

  Tears sprang to Margery’s eyes. “Nothing could have pleased me more,” she whispered. “I will cherish it always.”

  Ancel smiled. “This wedding ring is a symbol of your past, the present, and our future. May we share a life full of joyful days.” He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “And may our nights be full of unbridled passion.”

  As her new husband kissed her, Margery felt whole, enveloped in Ancel’s love.

  Epilogue

  London—20 January 1382

  Ancel led Margery down the road that ran alongside Westminster Abbey. The streets teemed with people hoping to see the newly-wedded royal couple emerge after the ceremony took place. He had brought her to see the church when they last visited London but this would be the first time she had entered it.

  “Every English king has been crowned here for over seventy years,” he told her. “At the moment of their crowning, they are seated upon a throne called Saint Edward’s Chair. And this will be the sixth time a royal wedding has taken place here, though the last one was almost a hundred years ago.”

  He seated her and gave her a swift kiss. “I’m sorry I have to leave you alone, my love, but duty calls. I will be allowed to sit with you at the wedding feast, though.” Ancel kissed her again, bringing a rush of powerful feelings that occurred inside her every time he did so.

  Margery blew him a kiss as he hurried off, looking splendid and so broad and tall. He would be in the group of royal guardsmen that escorted the king into the church. She bided her time, studying the architecture of the abbey and listening to conversations around her.

  “I hear she’s quite plain.”

  “What do you expect from someone from Bohemia?”

  “Did the king truly have to pay to wed her instead of receiving a dowry?”

  “Aye, he gave it to her brother, Wenceslas, the King of Bohemia. Though Anne is supposedly cultured and connected to royalty throughout Europe, she is quite poor.”

  “I hear he’s smitten with her already.”

  “She brought an escort of many Bohemian ladies and gentlemen with her. The king supposedly will grant annuities to many of them.”

  “That won’t go over well at court. I hear much criticism regarding her.”

  “There is always criticism when a new queen arrives in England.”

  Margery felt sorry for Lady Anne. She had enjoyed meeting her and hated all the cruel remarks being made about England’s future queen.

  With much fanfare, King Richard entered the church and made his way to the front. Margery thrilled to see Ancel close to the king. It still amazed her that a boy of four and ten ruled their country and that Lady Anne was less than a year older than her husband-to-be.

  A buzz ran across the church as the bride came down the aisle, wearing purple silk with shoots of gold in the skirts and a jeweled collar bearing one of her badges, the ostrich. Rubies studded the entire bird, which was surrounded by a field of large pearls. Lady Anne looked quite small as she was led to where the Bishop of London stood with the king.

  But what warmed Margery’s heart was the smile the king gave his bride as she joined him at the altar. It spoke of true affection—even intimacy—between them. For a royal marriage to begin in love was unheard of, yet Margery knew what love was like and sensed this young couple possessed it and would cherish one another just as she and Ancel did.

  After their vows, the bishop gave a short homily. She spent her time admiring her husband instead of listening. Then the newly-married couple sealed their union with a kiss and the royal guard surrounded them. The knights accompanied them back up the aisle and outside. Margery heard the cheers from the crowds gathered in front of the church.

  She waited patiently since Ancel said he would return for her as soon as he could. When he did, most of the wedding guests had vacated the abbey.

  Her husband took her hand and brought her into the wintry day. They struggled against the mass of people teeming in the streets as they made their way toward the palace. Almost an hour later, they arrived. Margery thought they would be late but Ancel assured her that the feasting hadn’t begun yet. He brought her through a maze of corridors, confusing her to no end but then she spotted a few familiar items in the halls and knew she’d been this way before.

  “We are going to the king’s rooms?” she asked.

  “Aye. He asked to speak with us briefly before the feasting begins. I know not what he wants.”

  They gained immediate entrance and found the king with a single servant who removed the heavy crown that he’d worn during the nuptial mass. The king dismissed the man and faced them.

  “Ah, my favorite knight and his new wife. ’Tis good to see you.”

  Margery dipped into a deep curtsey as Ancel bowed next to her.

  “Rise. I haven’t much time.”

  They did as commanded. The king sat and sighed. “I am hosting a tournament for a few days to celebrate my marriage. I would like for you to enter it, Ancel, as my personal representative.”

  “Of course, your highness. What events would you have me compete in?”

  The king told him and then said, “My new queen will be crowned in two days by Archbishop Courteney in Westminster Abbey. She would like Lady Margery to be present as one of her ladies-in-waiting.” He frowned. “She brought far too many Bohemian women with her for my taste. I want her to work on her English, my lady. She likes you. Trusts yo
u. If you are willing to serve her, I will grant you apartments here at court.”

  Margery looked to Ancel and he nodded. “We both will serve you in whatever capacity you ask, sire.”

  “Good, because I want you at court a majority of the time. I need you here, Ancel, no matter what Mauntell says. He thinks the two of you should stay at his Kent estate for the foreseeable future.”

  “We have been invited to visit my father so I can get to know him better,” Margery said. “But there’s been no talk of us living at Bexley.”

  The king thought a moment. “Oh, ’tis the first I have seen you since Lord Myles and I spoke. Peveril has no issue, other than Lady Margery. He has petitioned me for his title and estate to go to Sir Ancel upon his death instead of reverting to the Crown.” A look of pure boyish mischief crossed the king’s face. “A better title and an even larger estate than Highfield—and Lady Margery as your wife. What do you say to that, my friend?”

  Ancel smiled broadly. “I would say that whatever pleases your majesty will please my wife and me.”

  Richard burst out laughing. “Then the queen and I reserve the rights to you for now. You can have Bexley—and Kinwick—down the line.”

  “Your majesty, it’s time,” a servant said from the doorway.

  The king rose. “Shall we go celebrate my marriage?” He strode from the room and Margery and Ancel fell in behind him.

  They reached the banqueting hall and Ancel led her to a table filled with his fellow knights and their ladies. After many toasts to the good health of the king and queen, her husband turned and held his cup up to her. Margery brought hers up, as well.

  “To us, my love, my dearest love,” Ancel proclaimed. “And to you, my wife, my life. Margery de Montfort, I am forever—and always—yours.”

  Ancel kissed her amidst all the noise that surrounding them but, in that moment, Margery felt as if they were alone. As he deepened the kiss, she knew their love would stand the test of time.

  The End

  Love and Honor