by Alexa Aston
Just under half the boys who came down with the fever and spots had perished within a week.
“Have you seen the baron this morning?” Herleva asked.
“I was about to visit him.”
“Don’t tell him about the baroness or his daughter,” she urged. “It would only hurt him, knowing they suffered.”
“I agree.” He nodded and entered the bedchamber. Father Pious sat next to the bed where the baron lay, his eyes closed, his face bloodless.
“He’s almost gone,” the priest said.
Marcus went to stand on the opposite side of the bed. The labored breathing coming from the bed gave him pause. Though his father had never shown him any outward sign of affection, Marcus took his hand, hoping to bring him some small comfort at the end of his life.
“I am here, Father.”
Lord Charles struggled to open his eyes. A smile crossed his lips when he caught sight of his son. “Thank you,” he wheezed.
Slowly, over the next several minutes, the life ebbed from the baron until his breathing ceased. Marcus released the hand he held and placed it back on the bed.
“I’d like to gather the servants and serfs and have you say mass for him this morning.”
Father Pious studied him. “I will do as you wish, my lord. Will you now wed Lady Ailith? Your father would want you to honor his wishes now that he’s gone.”
“She has the measles. She may not live much longer herself.”
“Herleva told me. It matters not. I can marry the two of you now. We’ll need witnesses, though.”
“I’ll find some.”
Marcus departed the solar and went downstairs. He sent a servant to find Sagar and Thomas. Within minutes, both men arrived.
“Follow me,” he said, leading them upstairs. He paused in front of the bedchamber Lady Ailith now occupied.
“Have either of you contracted measles?”
Neither man had.
“My father requested that I wed Lady Ailith upon his death. Now that he has passed, I wish you to witness the ceremony. Stand at the door but come no closer,” he warned.
Father Pious joined them and he and Marcus entered the bedchamber. A servant no more than ten and two sat with the baroness and her babe.
“Have you been here all night?” Marcus asked the girl. When she nodded, he said, “Go. Break your fast and then return.”
The girl stood and placed the sleeping babe in her arms next to the baroness and left. Marcus saw how feverish the two were. Bright red spots covered both of them.
The priest shook Lady Ailith’s shoulder lightly. “My lady?” he said several times.
The baroness finally opened her eyes. “I’m so parched.”
Marcus took a pewter cup sitting next to the table and filled it with ale from a pitcher. He brought it to the noblewoman’s parched lips and she drank greedily. He could feel the heat coming off her.
“My lady,” he said gently, “I must give you some bad news.”
Her eyes, glassy and wide, frightened him. He’d seen men dying on the battlefield who looked no worse. He thought she might pass at any moment.
“Is it my husband?” she asked. “Has he gone to God?”
Marcus seriously doubted God would have anything to do with Charles de Harte but he said, “Aye. Just a few minutes ago.”
Ailith sighed. “I’m sorry I could not be with him. He was very good to me. Especially after he received word of your death, my lord. The baron wed me so that I would be under his protection. He dearly loved Livia and Mary, too.”
Marcus brushed the hair back from her face. Despite his allegiance to Jess, he couldn’t help but have tender feelings for this trusting woman who’d held his father in high regard.
“I plan to take care of you and your daughters now, my lady. Are you ready to wed me as you were supposed to?”
She looked startled. “Now? Shouldn’t I mourn for my husband first?”
“’Twas what Lord Charles desired, my lady,” Father Pious interjected. “He was thinking of you and your welfare until the very end.”
Lady Ailith sighed. “If that is what my husband wanted . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“He did,” Marcus assured her, looking to the priest. “Begin the ceremony,” he ordered.
Father Pious did as Marcus asked. As they recited their vows, Mary awakened and began to wail. Marcus scooped up the feverish babe and held her close to his chest, quieting her.
Once they finished, the priest told him to kiss his bride. Marcus briefly touched his lips against his new wife’s, again feeling the fever’s heat radiate from her.
“I promise I will be well soon, my lord.”
“Call me Marcus.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Marcus,” she echoed. “And I am Ailith.” Exhausted, her eyes closed.
Marcus returned Mary to the bed, making sure her mother’s arm was nestled securely about the babe, and he and the priest left the bedchamber. The servant girl had returned to nurse her mistress and Marcus closed the door.
He looked to the three men. “We’ll have a funeral mass for my father this morning. For now, I would ask that you not speak of my marriage to Lady Ailith to anyone.”
They agreed to his demand without question. Marcus realized it was because he was now the new, powerful Baron of Harteley.
Within the hour, the estate’s servants and workers assembled in the chapel for the mass honoring his father. When it ended, Marcus pulled Sagar and Thomas aside.
“I will be gone part of the day but I’ll be back before the evening meal.”
He went to the stables and saddled Storm so that he could go to the mummers at Glenmore. He would gather his possessions and return to Hartefield for good. The troupe could do without him for the rest of the week. Peter would be more than an adequate replacement for him.
Marcus also came for Jess. He wanted to see if she could bring any relief to Ailith before death came for the young woman. He also admitted to himself that he couldn’t stand to be away from Jess, married or not. He decided not to tell her of his marriage to Ailith, a woman he hadn’t even known he was betrothed to. Marcus had done as his father asked and wed the ailing Ailith. He would make certain that Livia and Mary were provided for—if the babe lived. Poor Mary had looked even worse than her mother.
Once Ailith passed, Marcus would wed Jess as he’d planned.
He led Storm from the stables and mounted the horse. Marcus let his mind go blank as he rode toward Glenmore.
Toward Jess.
*
Jessimond decided to wander about the faire and buy a few trinkets with some of the money she had earned. Only days remained until the vendors would return to their homes and the mummers disbanded. She wanted to bring something back for Hal and Elinor’s children since they lived at Kinwick. She found some scented soap that her mother and Elinor would both enjoy and bought that, as well. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would give these gifts to her loved ones at Kinwick—or at Hartefield. Marcus spoke of them marrying at his family’s estate, but she would want all those important to her to be a part of such a special day. It worried her that she hadn’t yet told him of her true identity and hoped that, even seeing her with new eyes, he would accept her.
Returning to camp, she placed the purchases inside her tent and then wandered to the stage area. When she arrived, Jessimond saw Marcus had returned and was engaged in conversation with the Vawdrys. Her insides fluttered madly at the sight of him. She found it hard to believe that she had found love on the road. Her parents had always told Jessimond love would find her and that she needn’t seek it out. Still, she had acted on her own and joined the mummers, so she felt somewhat responsible for placing herself in proximity with Marcus.
She still had much to learn about him. Now that she knew he was the son of a local baron, Jessimond wondered about his family and what Harte Castle would be like. The place would soon be her new home. She hoped she would grow to love it as much as she d
id Kinwick.
Marcus spied her coming and rewarded her with a smile that melted her bones. She joined the three men. It didn’t go unnoticed that he slipped his arm about her waist and drew her possessively to him.
“Marcus has told us that his family lives nearby,” Elias said. “He is leaving the troupe to return to them and he would like you to go with him, Jess.”
Before she could reply, Peter strode up. “What’s this?” he asked, frowning as he observed how familiar Marcus was being.
“My father passed away this morning,” Marcus said. “My stepmother and her daughter are very ill. I want Jess to come with me and help care for them. I fear neither one has long to live and I would see them made as comfortable as possible.” He paused. “Jess has little to do now. The costumes are all in fine shape. Bartholomew can sing to the crowds on his own. You can take my place with Rand. But I need your permission, Peter, since you are Jess’ brother. May I bring her to Hartefield?”
Peter looked to her and back at Marcus. “Let me speak to Jess. Alone.”
He took Jessimond’s arm and led her away. “What’s going on?”
“I think you know, Peter,” she began. “I have fallen in love with Marcus. I thought he was a knight, as Rand is, but he’s shared with me that he is the son of the Baron of Harteley.” She corrected herself. “Actually, the baron is gone. Marcus is the new baron. He has asked me to marry him.”
Her friend broke out in a broad smile and hugged her to him. “’Tis wonderful news, Jess.” Then he frowned. “Wait. Marcus still thinks we are brother and sister. That means you haven’t told him who you are.”
Guilt washed over her. “I plan to. When the troupe disbands, I want you and Agatha to come to Hartefield first. I’ll have written a missive to my parents and Ancel by then. You can deliver both and bring my parents to Harte Castle. Marcus wishes us to wed there.”
“Not at Kinwick?” Peter frowned. “Lady Merryn will not be pleased.”
Jessimond shrugged. “Once I tell Marcus of my background, we may decide to go to Kinwick instead. I’ll know more once you arrive at Hartefield.” She kissed his cheek. “So be a good brother and grant your permission to Marcus for me to accompany him to his home. I hope I can be of some service to his stepmother and her child.”
“As long as you behave yourself,” Peter teased.
She didn’t make him any promises. The thought of being in a large castle full of rooms made her long to find an empty one and spend time alone with the man she loved.
They returned and found the Vawdrys gone.
Peter said to Marcus, “I will allow Jess to go to Hartefield with you. When our week is up at Glenmore, though, Agatha and I will come to her.”
“We will always welcome both of you at Hartefield, Peter. If you decide you would like to remain with us instead of returning to Kinwick, I know it would please Jess. Rand thinks highly of your weapon skills. Mayhap, you would be interested in serving as a soldier in our garrison?”
“I’ll think about it.” Peter embraced Jessimond. “I will see you within a week. Take care.” He kissed her cheek.
“I need to return to my tent,” she said. “I want to get my case of herbs and a change of clothing.”
“I’ll bring your lute and anything else you leave behind,” Peter promised.
Marcus escorted Jessimond back to camp, drawing her hand through the crook of his arm.
“I have missed you,” he said, his voice rough and low, sending a thrill through her.
“No more than I have you.”
She gathered her things and they returned to where Storm stood with the other horses. Rand greeted them.
“Jess and I are returning to Hartefield,” Marcus told his friend. “My father died early this morning. According to Sagar, I have much to do since Father had been ill all summer and many things have been left undone.”
“I see Jess is going with you,” Rand noted.
“Aye. Lady Ailith and her babe are gravely ill. I’m hoping Jess can ease their suffering. When you return to Hartefield, Peter and Agatha will accompany you.”
Rand nodded sagely. “So, that’s how it is?”
Jessimond felt her cheeks heat as the knight studied them.
“Jess and I will wed soon,” Marcus shared.
The knight looked at her. “Lady Margaret would be most pleased with your choice in a wife, my lord.”
“My mother,” prompted Marcus. “She passed on a couple of years ago.”
“Lady Margaret was beloved by her people,” Rand said. Smiling, he added, “I’m sure Lady Jess will also find she is loved. You’ve made Marcus happy. ’Twill be enough for them.”
Marcus slipped her clothing into a satchel attached to Storm’s pommel and then tied her case on, as well. Mounting the horse, he leaned down and lifted Jessimond so that she sat in front of him.
“See you soon,” he called to Rand, who waved goodbye to them.
As they cantered away, Marcus’ arm tightened about her waist, drawing her into his chest. He nuzzled her ear.
“It won’t take long to reach the castle grounds.”
Feeling secure in his arms, Jessimond said, “I don’t care if it takes all night. As long as we are together.”
Chapter 20
Jessimond noticed that Marcus slowed the horse. She looked ahead and didn’t see their destination, though they had ridden for some time. Before she could ask, he turned the mount and entered the forest running alongside the road. He threw his leg over and came to the ground. Grinning, he clasped her waist and pulled her down next to him.
Marcus’ fingers tightened on her waist as he leisurely explored her mouth. Her arms went about him. Jessimond gave herself over to the kiss, reveling in every stroke of his tongue against hers. He pulled away, leaving her breathless.
“I couldn’t wait,” he admitted. “I also know I’ll be busy and we won’t see each other much once we arrive at Harte Castle.”
“We won’t?” she asked, disappointed.
“I needed you nearby, Jess. Under the same roof. I would have been miserable being apart from you. I do have many new responsibilities, though. I’ll need to throw myself into the affairs of the estate and make sure the fall harvest is going as planned.”
“What of our wedding?”
“It must wait,” he said firmly. “As long as Lady Ailith and little Mary are ill, they need to be our chief concern, though Livia, who’s two, is in good health.”
“What’s wrong with them? Are they ill with what your father had?”
“Nay. He had withered away since last I saw him in May, as if something inside had eaten him up. My stepmother and half-sister have the measles.”
Jessimond sighed. “I can give Lady Ailith something for her fever and a headache if she has one but measles must run their course.” She paused. “Marcus, measles are very serious. You’ve mentioned a two-year-old girl and a babe. If Lady Ailith has given birth twice so quickly, her body already is in a weakened state. ’Twill be hard for her to fight through it, and even harder for a babe since she won’t be able to drink from a bowl as her mother can.”
He cupped her face tenderly. “That’s why I thought you might ease their pain. I understand that they probably will not survive this crisis, Jess.”
“I have not had the measles,” she revealed.
“Then I want you nowhere near them. I have a servant tending to their needs now. You are to stay far away from the bedchamber they lie in, but you can pass along any herbs and instructions.” He kissed her. “I don’t want you catching this, sweetheart. Promise me you’ll stay away from them.”
“All right,” Jessimond said reluctantly. It pained her that she would not be able to speak to her patients in person, but she knew how easily it would be for her to come down with the dreaded red spots if she didn’t keep her distance.
She decided now was the time to reveal her identity to Marcus, before they reached Hartefield. Jessimond opened her mouth to speak but h
e kissed her again, greedily drinking her in. By the time he finished, her head swam. Marcus set her atop Storm and joined her, clicking his tongue. The horse took off at a gallop. Conversation would be impossible, especially for telling Marcus such unexpected news. She decided to wait until they had time alone before she bared her soul to him.
He stopped the horse again. “What do you think?”
She heard obvious pride in his voice and gazed in front of her. A lush valley stood beneath them, wheat fields golden with their abundant crops. Small cottages dotted the landscape. In the center of it all, tall, stone walls surrounded Harte Castle. From their vantage point, she could see both the outer and inner baileys and the keep itself.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I think so, too.”
Jessimond marveled at how this estate would be her new home. She couldn’t wait to explore it.
Marcus nudged Storm and the horse began cantering along again. Soon, they reached the gates and gained admittance. Marcus steered the horse to the stables and handed him off to a young boy. He untied her case and the satchel and told the boy to be generous with Storm’s oats. They crossed the inner bailey, which appeared deserted.
“We’re in time for the evening meal,” he told her, leading her inside the keep and into the great hall.
Well over a hundred people had gathered to eat. Marcus led Jessimond to the dais. He set the satchel and case down and then lifted her onto the dais before seating her. A servant quickly appeared.
“Are you hungry, my lord?”
“Very hungry and even more thirsty.”
“Be right back, my lord.” The woman bobbed and disappeared.
Jessimond looked out over the crowd and noticed many people eyed her with interest. She glanced about, seeing the tapestries hanging on the walls were numerous and the rushes on the floor fragrant. The smell of roasted chicken wafted up, causing her stomach to gurgle noisily. Despite the fact that the lady of the castle lay ill, the servants had continued to complete their tasks. She thought it an excellent sign since it spoke highly of them.