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

by Alexa Aston

  Marcus gripped her tightly. “I forbid it. You cannot leave me, Jess. I will wither and die without your touch.”

  Shock crossed her face. “You are married, Marcus. Married! I cannot stay at Hartefield another day.” Her lips trembled. “I cannot watch you with your wife. See the children you two share play at your feet. Have my heart shattered into a thousand pieces every minute of the day. Nay, I will leave as soon as Peter comes.”

  “Jess,” he pleaded. “Don’t go.” His own tears blinded him. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t know why I couldn’t say the words before but know they are true.”

  She recoiled as if scalded. “You cannot say them now,” she hissed. “You can never say them to me again.” Jess stiffened. “Release me, Marcus.”

  Reluctantly, he loosened his fingers and let his hands drop to his sides.

  Jess gave him a wistful smile. “I suppose I should find comfort in knowing you truly loved me, but for your sake and Lady Ailith’s, you must now let me go. You need to lead your life here—with your wife.”

  She turned and hurried down the corridor.

  His heart rent in two as he watched each step take her further away from him.

  Marcus had to say it once more. “I love you, Jess.”

  She glanced over her shoulder as she reached her bedchamber’s door. “I know.”

  *

  Jessimond fell across the bed and wept. Sobs racked her entire body. Nausea overtook her and she stumbled to a basin and vomited. Too weak to walk, she leaned against the wall and slid down it until she hit the ground.

  Marcus was married. To Lady Ailith. Bitterness filled Jessimond. She had prayed for hours to the Virgin Mary to intervene and save the noblewoman’s life, especially after Ailith lost little Mary. She’d tried everything she knew to break the raging fever and calm the deep cough. She’d sat watching, instructing Bea to bathe Ailith’s limbs over and over. And all the while, Jessimond worked to heal the wife of the man who held her heart and soul.

  She dragged her feet closer and dropped her head against her knees. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she cried until no more tears came. Spent, she pushed herself to her feet and bathed her face in water before gathering her few possessions. The minute Peter arrived, they would leave. She didn’t want to see or speak to Marcus or Ailith or Herleva or Livia or anyone she’d come to know during her stay at Hartefield. More than anything, she needed her family now. Thankfully, Ancel and Margery were not far away. They would have to cross Hartefield and then go the length of Sir Simeon de Grey’s property, but after leaving Glenmore, they would be on Bexley lands.

  Jessimond realized they would be walking so that their journey would take longer. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered anymore. She’d left Kinwick an innocent girl and would return a woman, somewhat wiser for having been foolish enough to fall in love with the wrong man. Her head told her that her heart would mend one day but, at this point, Jessimond thought she would be an old woman and still burn for Marcus de Harte’s touch.

  A knock sounded at the door. She threw back her shoulders and held her head high as she answered. Herleva stood there.

  “I’m to tell you that Peter and Agatha are here,” the servant said, looking at Jessimond with questioning eyes but wisely saying no more.

  “Thank you.”

  She picked up the satchel and her herb case and followed Herleva downstairs. Peter and Agatha stood close together, both their brows knitted together in confusion. Rand came into view, his face betraying his knowledge of the impossible situation.

  Suddenly, Livia toddled in from the great hall as Jessimond reached the bottom of the stairs. The girl threw her arms around Jessimond’s legs and buried her head against Jessimond’s knee.

  Peter reached and took her things so that she could lift the child in her arms.

  “You leave?” Livia asked, her mouth turning down in a frown.

  “I am. Your mother is all better now. I told you she would be.” Jessimond swallowed, blinking back tears.

  Livia smiled. “I love you, Jess.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She kissed Livia’s brow and set her on the ground. The girl ran off, giggling.

  Rand stepped forward. Quietly, he said, “Marcus knows you do not wish to see him. He’s asked that I lead a guard to escort you safely back to Kinwick.”

  Jessimond shook her head. “I want to see no one from Hartefield.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “I need a clean break, Rand.”

  “He won’t be happy,” the knight said.

  “Neither will I,” she replied. “Just let us leave quietly.”

  “You don’t even have horses, Jess. Can I at least provide you with a better horse and wagon than the one I bought from Elias? It barely got Peter and Agatha here. I’m afraid it will fall apart on the road to Kinwick.”

  “Nay. We will walk home if need be.”

  Rand enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly against him. Jessimond looked up and said, “Take care of him for me.”

  “I will.”

  With that promise, Rand released her. Jessimond nodded to Peter and he and Agatha accompanied her from the keep. A dilapidated wagon awaited them. She saw her lute in the back and climbed up into the wagon’s bed. She claimed the lute, locking her arms possessively around it as Peter assisted Agatha. The girl came and sat next to Jessimond. She slipped her hand through Jessimond’s arm and held it firmly.

  Herleva ran out, a basket in her hand. She gave it to Peter and then hurried back inside the keep, her eyes avoiding Jessimond.

  Peter set her things in the back and then climbed into the driver’s seat. They passed through the gates of Hartefield and continued down the road. When they reached the end of it, Peter looked over his shoulder for instructions.

  “Bexley. We go to Bexley,” Jessimond confirmed.

  Chapter 22

  Jessimond deliberately kept her mind a blank. If she thought about the situation, she would collapse in grief. Peter kept the horse at a walk so the cart wouldn’t fall apart from the vibrations. She wondered how far the vehicle would make it before disintegrating.

  Finally, they crossed from Hartefield to Glenmore. She waited until she thought they were halfway across Lord Simeon’s estate and called out to Peter to pull off the road. He did as she asked and assisted her and Agatha from the wagon. Jessimond indicated the basket and he lifted it. They walked a few paces and sat on the ground. Without a word, Peter opened the basket and distributed the legs of chicken and gave Jessimond the loaf of bread to divide. He began slicing cheese.

  “There are things you need to know, Agatha,” Jessimond began.

  “About Kinwick?” Agatha asked. “Or why you parted on poor terms with Marcus.”

  “He’s not Marcus. He’s Lord Marcus de Harte, the Baron of Harteley. His father passed last week and as the only de Harte son, Marcus inherited the title,” she explained.

  Agatha face crumpled. “Since he’s a lord now, he doesn’t want you anymore, Jess?”

  “Nay, Agatha. Lord Marcus already has a wife.”

  Her talkative friend only stared at her, dumfounded. Peter sprang to his feet. Jessimond feared he might take off running to Hartefield and pummel Marcus to a bloody lump.

  She held a hand up. “Wait, Peter.”

  He froze. “Why should I?” he said, his tone surly.

  “Lord Marcus did not know he was betrothed when he joined the mummers. His father handled the betrothal contracts and acted as his proxy while he was away fighting with the king.”

  Peter thought a moment and then argued, “But he returned to Hartefield. Saw his father. And he still came back for you, Jess.” His fists began to flex.

  “His wife was a few heartbeats from death.” She paused to let that sink in.

  “Lord Marcus has a tender heart,” Agatha pointed out. “That’s why he came for Jess. He wanted her to ease the baroness’ suffering.”

  “Aye,” Jessimond agreed.
“Only my mother taught me too well, I suppose. Lady Ailith is still ill but she will recover. Lord Marcus must remain true to his vows with her.”

  Pain crossed Peter’s face. “I am so sorry, Jess.” He came and sat next to her, putting his arm about her shoulder and drawing her close. “I would not have understood before now. I know Lord Marcus loves you as much as I love Agatha. If I had to give her up now, I would be lost.”

  She took comfort in Peter’s presence but pressed on. “Agatha, there is more to my story. Just as Marcus is Lord Marcus, I am also of the nobility. I am Lady Jessimond de Montfort, youngest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Kinwick.”

  Agatha couldn’t hide her astonishment. She looked from Jessimond to Peter. “So . . . you aren’t brother and sister?”

  “Nay. Peter is the son of our blacksmith and is a fine one in his own right. We grew up playing together since I am the youngest of six and my siblings are much older than I am. Peter and I are only a year apart.”

  Agatha thought things over. “I like your name. Jessimond. It suits you.”

  “Sometimes my family does call me Jess.”

  Agatha frowned. “Why were you with the mummers? I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to understand everything now,” Jessimond reassured her. “Just know that you have a place at Kinwick, whether it is helping inside the keep or merely taking care of Peter.”

  “This is so much to take in.”

  “There’s more, I’m afraid. We aren’t going to Kinwick first. The next estate after Glenmore belongs to my oldest brother, Ancel. He is the Earl of Mauntell. We will remain at Bexley and send word to Kinwick. My parents will come once they receive my missive and then escort us home.”

  “My lady? Does Lord Marcus know you are a daughter of Kinwick and not a mere servant there?” Peter asked.

  She shook her head. “I was going to tell him but I never found time alone with him. He was consumed with his new responsibilities at Hartefield while I spent my time nursing Lady Ailith or caring for Livia, her child.”

  “Whose child is Lady Livia?” Agatha asked.

  “That is where things become complicated,” Jessimond said. “For now, you know all you need to know. I would ask that neither of you speak of my special friendship with Marcus. My feelings are still raw since I only learned of his marriage today. In time, I might be able to discuss it. For now? I want to enjoy my time with Ancel and Margery and close the door on the last few months.”

  “If that’s what you wish, we will respect that,” Peter said.

  Jessimond stood. “Good. Let’s continue on to Bexley.”

  Peter assisted them into the cart’s bed again and after three hours, they arrived. Driving through the gates, the two rear wheels on the vehicle collapsed and one side fell to the ground. She and Agatha gingerly climbed from the wagon while Peter removed their possessions and placed them on the ground.

  “Free the horse and take him to the stables,” Jessimond instructed Peter. “I’ll have someone come for our things. Mayhap the wood from the wagon can be chopped and used as firewood. Agatha, come with me to the keep.”

  As they started off, her friend said, “I hope I will remember to call you Lady Jessimond from now on.”

  “If you forget, it’s not a problem,” she assured Agatha, leading her through the bailey.

  When they reached the keep, Jessimond’s heart began pounding with the familiar faces she saw awaiting her.

  “Jess!” Nan cried. She moved toward Jessimond and immediately, Jessimond saw that her sister was again with child. Looking at Nan’s slighted rounded belly, she believed the child would come next February or March.

  They embraced and she said, “I see I am to be an aunt again. Since you already have a boy and a girl, what do wish for this time?”

  Nan laughed, her hands going to her belly and rubbing it affectionately. “Tristan says as long as the babe is healthy, we should be happy with whatever comes out.” Nan hugged her again. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, Jess.”

  By now, Margery and Elysande had joined them. Jessimond embraced her cousin. Elysande had taught her to ride and then much about horses. She had fond memories of time spent at Sandbourne and in its stables.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Nan and Tristan came on their annual pilgrimage to purchase some Sandbourne horses,” Elysande revealed. “Michael and I decided to accompany them back to Leventhorpe and make sure the horses were settled in.”

  Margery held out her arms and Jessimond went to her brother’s wife.

  “Fortunately, they all decided to stop for a brief visit at Bexley on their way to Leventhorpe,” Margery said. “When I told them you were due to arrive, they wanted to wait and see you.”

  “Oh!” Jessimond realized she’d forgotten all about Agatha. She turned and saw the young woman hanging back. She waved her forward and noticed Peter coming toward their group. “This is Agatha. She will be coming to Kinwick when I return. She and Peter plan to wed.”

  “Congratulations,” the three women said in unison and laughed.

  “Nice to meet you, Agatha,” Nan said. As Peter arrived, she greeted him. “Well done, Peter. She’s lovely.”

  “Thank you, Lady Nan. ’Tis good to see you.”

  “Let’s return to the keep,” Margery suggested. “The men will be through in the training yard soon. I’ll need to arrange a place for Agatha and Peter to stay.”

  “I can sleep in the stables tonight, my lady, since I’ll leave at first light for Kinwick,” Peter said. He looked to Jessimond. “Will you have written a missive for me to deliver to Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn by then?”

  Jessimond thought of the message she had written in her mind several times this past week, the one telling her parents that she had fallen in love with Marcus de Harte and would wed him. Words that would never be written, much less delivered.

  “Nay, Peter. Simply tell my parents that I arrived safely at Bexley and am eager to see them,” she replied.

  “Very good, my lady.”

  Margery led them back to the keep and handed Agatha off to a servant. She also asked that the evening meal be brought to the solar so that the family could enjoy private time together. The women had only talked for a few minutes when Ancel, Michael, and Tristan entered and three servants brought huge platters of food.

  She embraced Michael and Tristan and then let Ancel pick her up and swing her around. He set her down and frowned.

  “What’s wrong, Jessimond?” he asked, drawing her away from the others.

  “Nothing,” she quickly assured him. “I’m merely worn out after months of travel on the road.”

  His palm cradled her face. “You know I would do anything for you.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I know you would slay dragons for me, Ancel. If I see any, I will certainly call you,” she said teasingly.

  He kissed her forehead and then looked to the others. Jessimond saw the table now laden with food as everyone began seating themselves.

  “I am so hungry,” she proclaimed. “Let’s eat.”

  She and Ancel took a place at the table as the group began filling their trenchers. She saw venison with frumenty and inhaled its heavy spices, and looked forward to eating the blackmanger she spied, as well.

  “I want to hear about your time with the mummers,” Tristan said.

  Jessimond told them of King Ralph’s talent and how the others vied for various roles. She recalled funny stories involving Jopp and shared how the Vawdrys ran the troupe, as well as the various places they’d journeyed.

  “What were you involved with?” asked Michael.

  “My chief task was mending costumes that had been damaged and sewing new ones for upcoming plays. I also cooked many of the troupe’s evening meals. Probably my favorite thing was serving as a troubadour during a part of every day.”

  She related how Bartholomew had fallen ill and how she’d stepped into his shoes for a few p
erformances.

  “Once he returned, Elias and Moss asked if I would join Bartholomew on stage before each play began. The crowds seemed to enjoy that. We sang some songs together and performed a solo each time.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed when you and Beatrice sing together in Kinwick’s great hall,” Margery said.

  “You and Beatrice harmonize beautifully,” Elysande added. “I’m sure your voice also blended nicely with Bartholomew’s.” She sighed. “I wish I had such a talent and could sing.”

  Tristan laughed. “Your talent is knowing horses, Elysande.”

  Michael slipped an arm about his wife’s waist. “And keeping me happy.” He growled and kissed her cheek.

  A wave of sadness swept through Jessimond at the sweet, familiar gesture. Marcus would be doing the same kind of things to Ailith once she healed, while Jessimond would spend the rest of her life alone. She glanced up and saw Nan studying her with interest.

  To place the focus on others in their group, Jessimond said, “I have been dominating the conversation tonight. I need you to tell me what’s been happening with your families since the last time I saw you.”

  Talk turned to their children and estates. Jessimond sat back and listened quietly, no longer adding anything to the conversation.

  Finally, the hour grew late and Margery said, “Let me take you to your bedchamber, Jessimond.”

  “I can do that,” Nan volunteered. She stood and waited for Jessimond to do the same and then linked their arms. Looking to Tristan, she said, “Would you check on the children? I won’t be long.”

  Nan led her down the corridor and opened a chamber door. Ushering her inside, she closed it behind her and then released Jessimond’s arm.

  “I know you better than anyone, Jess. You’re hiding something from me. From us all. Please, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you. Whatever it is, I want to make things right for you.”

  Jessimond burst into tears and fell into her sister’s arms.

  Chapter 23