Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “We will never find him,” he said quietly, looking between James and Drake. “The man has rotted under several feet of mud and we will never find him. Cortez is doing this just to make the woman happy but it is only going to cause her more heartache when she realizes that Rob is lost to the ages. What are we supposed to do? Dig up the entire battlefield? That is madness!”

  Drake waved a hand at him to keep his voice down. “Madness or not, that is what we’ve been ordered to do and we shall do it,” he said, grunting with the same disapproval Oliver had expressed. “But I must say it is bad enough to bring the woman along much less her daughter. Lady de Bretagne has no idea how difficult this is going to be. To drag her child along is stupid at best.”

  James eyed his friends. “Be that as it may, keep that opinion between us,” he mumbled. “You do not want Cortez to catch hint of that rumor. He’ll have your head.”

  Oliver and Drake nodded reluctantly. The trio fell silent as Cortez and Andres, evidently finished with the barkeep, made their way back over to them. The main room of the inn was moderately full of people and extremely smoky from a malfunctioning chimney. It also smelled like raw sewage, a most unpleasant smell. Andres shoved an old drunkard out of his way as he and Cortez reached the rest of the knights.

  “Idiots and drunkards,” Andres sniffed, looking at the rabble in the room. “Could we not have found a more appropriate place to spend the night, brother? Why this dog-hole?”

  Cortez gave him a disdainful look. “Because they are all full,” he snapped without force. “I told you that already. This is the only place with availability and we are going to take it. If you do not like it, sleep out in the rain with your horse. I care not.”

  Andres was obviously displeased. “We deserve better accommodations than this.”

  Cortez didn’t want to hear his brother’s complaining. “Then you are welcome to go and find them,” he said. “I have secured three rooms in this establishment and I’m sure the other knights will not mind if you drag your carcass somewhere else. If you do not, then shut your mouth because I do not want to hear your grumbling.”

  Andres simply made a face and looked away, smart enough not to engage his brother in more of a verbal battle. Cortez would win anyway, and if he didn’t, the argument could very well end with the man throwing a punch, and Andres didn’t want a bloodied nose this night. He was exhausted and hungry, as they all were.

  Cortez waited for his brother to throw a tantrum but the man wisely remained silent. Andres was unpredictable sometimes, and spoiled, but he wasn’t foolish. He knew when his brother was at his limit. When Cortez was sure there would be no more argument, he turned to his three knights.

  “The barkeep tells me there are two barns in the back,” he said, “one for the animals and one that is used for storage with hay and other things. Tell the men they are welcome to sleep in the storage barn if they do not wish to raise their shelters. They are not to have a fire in it, however, for obvious reasons. Whatever they decide, make sure the men are assembled by dawn. I plan to make it to Warminster by tomorrow night and I want to stay on schedule. I will not tolerate late risers.”

  The knights nodded and moved out, heading into the rainy night as they began to bellow instructions to the men who were standing out in the elements. When Cortez’s escort began to move, he headed outside to the provisions wagon where Diamantha and Sophie were. Lightning flashed overhead as he walked through the ankle-deep mud, crossing the road and ending up next to the saturated wagon.

  Peering inside, he could see Diamantha sitting far back on the pallet with a sleeping Sophie in her arms. She was dry for the most part but he could tell by the color of her face that she was cold and exhausted. Her pert little nose was red and her face pale, indicative of the cold. Turning around in search for some help, he spied his brother and whistled the man over. Unhappy, Andres sloshed through the mud as Cortez turned back to Diamantha.

  “Give me Sophie,” he said softly, holding out his arms. “I have a nice, warm bed waiting for her.”

  Diamantha shifted, carefully handing over Sophie to Cortez, who took her gently. Diamantha then took her cloak and covered the child with it so the rain would not soak her. As careful as if he were holding the Baby Jesus, Cortez took Sophie and then handed her over to his brother.

  “Take her inside immediately,” he whispered to Andres. “We have the room at the top of the stairs, last door on the left. Take her there and try not to get her wet.”

  Andres, surprisingly, was very careful with Sophie in spite of his surly attitude. He cradled her as Cortez fixed the cloak so the child would not get wet, and soon he was making haste towards the inn. Cortez watched him go, making sure his brother was well on his way, before turning to Diamantha. He smiled politely.

  “Now it is your turn, my lady,” he said, holding out his hands. “Come along, now. Let us get you inside where it is warm and dry.”

  Diamantha shifted along the wagon bed but not before she reached out to grab the cage with the animals in it. She tried to hold on to them with her wrapped hand while pushing herself along with the other. Cortez took the cage from her and set it aside as he lifted her out of the wagon bed. Snug in his arms, Diamantha reached over and picked up the cage, and away they went towards the inn.

  By the time Cortez got her inside, they were both fairly wet from the downpour, as were the animals, who were now awake and restless. The kittens were crying and Cortez set Diamantha to her feet, politely grasping her arm to escort her up the rickety stairs that led to the darkened second floor above. She moved slowly, seemingly very interested in the room, a smelly, smoky hovel of men and women seeking shelter from the storm.

  “Will we be eating down here?” she wanted to know.

  Cortez was trying to urge her to move more quickly up the steps. “Nay,” he said. “We will take our meal in our room.”

  Her head snapped around to him. “Our room?”

  He met her eyes. “Aye,” he said steadily. “There were three rooms available and my knights will occupy two of them. You, me, and Sophie will have one for ourselves.”

  Diamantha pondered that with some uncertainty but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have a right to say anything, after all, she was the man’s wife and it was perfectly acceptable to share a room with him. She continued to follow him to the second floor where a slightly tilted corridor led them to their chamber at the end of it. Even the door was leaning as Cortez shoved it open. Andres was inside, just laying Sophie upon a very small bed pushed over near a hearth that had a bit of heat to it. Diamantha smiled politely at the man as he pushed past her on his way to leave the chamber.

  “My thanks,” she said.

  Andres was back to his smiling, flirtatious self in an instant. “For you, dear lady, anything at all,” he said, then his smile vanished unnaturally fast as he eyed his brother. “Will there be anything else, Cortez?”

  Cortez hung the wet cloak, the one used to cover Sophie, up on a peg next to the hearth. “Make sure my wife’s cases are brought in,” he told him. “Then you are free for the evening.”

  Andres nodded and headed out of the door, winking at Diamantha as he left. Diamantha shook her head reproachfully, disapproving that he would be so flirtatious with his brother’s new wife. She began to unwind the scarf from around her neck with her good hand, thinking on Cortez’s bold brother.

  “Your brother is rather… friendly,” she commented quietly.

  Cortez moved to stoke the fire. “My brother is pushing the boundaries of my good graces,” he muttered. “If he winks at you again, I am going to gouge his eyes out.”

  She turned to look at him, a half-smile on her lips. “So you’ve noticed, have you?”

  Cortez pursed his lips irritably. “I would have to be blind not to notice,” he mumbled, working the wood and peat up into a flame. “If you slap him for his liberties, I will not blame you.”

  Diamantha burst into soft laughter. “I am sure it will n
ot come to that,” she said, pulling the scarf free and hanging it on the peg next to the cloak. “I am sure he will behave himself.”

  Cortez grunted. “If he does, it will be the first time,” he said, reaching over to grasp the cage with the wet animals and moving them near the fire. He peered at the little collection. “This should be warm enough for them. I’ll see if the barkeep has any milk.”

  Diamantha looked at the man, thinking that he must be rather soft-hearted if he was worried about little animals. “That would be lovely, thank you,” she said softly. “I am sure Sophie will appreciate that. In fact… thank you for all you’ve done for us. You have gone out of your way to make this as pleasant a trip as possible and I am grateful.”

  He stood up, his black eyes lingering on her. “You are welcome.”

  Diamantha smiled at him, the first time she’d done so without prompting. It was a genuine smile and one that went straight to his heart like an arrow, piercing it. In fact, he was a bit dumbfounded by it and as he thought of something more to say, she indicated his wet armor and clothing.

  “Mayhap you should change out of your wet things,” she said. “I… I would be happy to help you unless you are expecting your squire to come.”

  God’s Bones, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. He still had some things to attend to but nothing short of a command from God was going to move him out of this room and away from her lovely hands. She was offering to help him, the first such overture he’d ever had from her, and there was no way he was going to refuse. He looked down at himself and, seeing how wet and disheveled he really was, nodded wearily.

  “That would be appreciated,” he said softly.

  Diamantha moved to stand in front of him. “Tell me where you wish for me to start,” she said. “Robert liked to start at his feet and work his way up but you may do it differently.”

  Cortez looked down at himself again. “It would be easiest, in my estimation, to start from the top,” he said, indicating the tunic. “If you help me remove this, the rest will easily follow.”

  Diamantha gestured with her hands. “Arms up, then.”

  Cortez swiftly unstrapped his broadsword from his waist and thigh and propped it up against the wall. Then he lifted his arms and bent forward while she pulled the drenched tunic over his head. It was a dark gray in color, wool, with the de Bretagne bird of prey carefully stitched in white thread upon the front. He watched her take the tunic over to the hearth and spread it out over a broken wooden frame that was there just for that purpose. It took her a few tries to get the frame to stand as she positioned the tunic next to the fire so it would dry.

  Turning around, Diamantha could see that Cortez had remained bent over so she could help remove his mail coat. It was a heavy thing, and tricky to remove, so she started at the bottom and basically worked it over his head. But it was extremely heavy for her, and wet, so it was a messy job. By the time she pulled it off completely, the front of her surcoat was utterly soaked. He saw the mess.

  “I am sorry,” he said, indicating the enormous wet stain on the front of her garment. “I should have had my squire do this.”

  She gave him a reproachful expression. “I am already soaked,” she said. “Let me help you remove the rest of your wet things so that my soaking will not have been in vain.”

  He smirked. “No need, madam,” he said. “From this point, my squire can take over. The rest of this will be very cumbersome and nasty for you to deal with.”

  She cocked a doubtful eyebrow. “Are you sure? Your padded tunic should be spread out to dry immediately.”

  Beneath the mail coat, which was the length from his shoulders to his knees, he wore a padded tunic that was damp and stained, as well as leather breeches and very fine, well-used leather boots that had been heavily oiled in order to make them resistant to water. At her prompting about the padded tunic, he shrugged, held his arms out, and bent over at the waist again. Diamantha gave a good yank and pulled the heavily padded tunic right off.

  Holding the tunic at arm’s length because it was wet and smelly, she hung it up on a peg above the hearth to dry it. Helping Cortez undress reminded her of how she used to assist Robert. Rather than use squires like he should have, Robert liked to have his wife tend him. More often than not, when clothes were coming off, he would make a point of taking everything off and then trying to bed her, and most of the time she would play his game. She smiled faintly at the memories of the times when she would not permit him to bed her after such undressings, listening to his cries of utter disappointment and the pathetic pleadings of a madman. Robert could be dramatic at times, humorously so. She missed those moments.

  But she didn’t dwell on it. It was of no use, especially now. She was sure that she and Cortez would make their own special moments, although she wasn’t sure what those would be. Things were still very uncertain. Lost in thought, she turned around to face him again and was confronted by a half-naked man.

  But it wasn’t just any man. It was her new husband in an unexpected display of flesh and raw allure. Diamantha’s eyes fell on Cortez, nude but for his breeches and boots, and her breathing began coming in strange, giddy gasps. She’d never seen anything to magnificent in her life.

  Startled, she tore her eyes away and pretended to look at something else, anything else, but his muscular chest, big shoulders, and powerful arms. There was perfection there as God had intended the male form to be but, as a mere mortal, she wasn’t meant to look upon it. She couldn’t because, like a man gazing upon the face of Medusa, the sight seemed to want to suck every rational thought out of her head and turn her into stone. For certain, she felt frozen in awe. Struggling to focus on something other than Cortez’s beauty, she ended up looking at the animals in their cage.

  “Were you…?” she began, swallowed, and then started again. “Were you going to find some milk for the animals?”

  Completely unaware of Diamantha’s flustered state, Cortez was in the process of inspecting his breeches, which were very wet around the waistline.

  “Aye,” he replied, loosening the lacings on his breeches. “As soon as my squire arrives with my saddlebags so I can put on a dry tunic.”

  Diamantha still wouldn’t look at him. Trying to keep herself busy, she took the small wooden bowl out of the animals’ cage and put some water in it from the pitcher in the room. She put it back in the cage, petting the kittens who very much wanted to come out and play. She ended up picking them both up, cuddling the little creatures who were purring like mad, when there was a sharp knock on the door. As Diamantha moved to put the kittens back into the cage, Cortez in all of his nude, manly glory opened the door.

  James and Oliver were standing in the corridor, their young faces grim. “Sorry to disturb you, my lord,” James said. “But you’d better come. The town’s sheriff is in the room downstairs, wanting to know your business. He is bellowing something about too many soldiers about. He is demanding answers.”

  Cortez glanced down the corridor, towards the stairs that led into the common room. He could hear raised voices. “Who is the man?” he asked. “Did he give a name?”

  James shook his head. “He simply said he was the sheriff and demanded we bring you to him.”

  Cortez cocked an eyebrow as he looked at his knights. There was hardness in his expression. “Demanded, did he?”

  James nodded, giving him a rather concerned look. “Aye, he did,” he said, lowering his voice. “He could be trouble.”

  Cortez pondered that statement for a brief moment. “Where are Andres and Drake?”

  “In the common room, watching him.”

  “Are they armed?”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  “Is this sheriff armed?”

  “He is.”

  “How many men does he have with him?”

  “At least ten.”

  “Knights?”

  “No, my lord. Ruffians, it looks like. They have clubs but no real swords that we could see.”

/>   That was enough for Cortez. Swiftly, he turned back into the room, going to the peg where his padded tunic was hanging. He snatched it as James and Oliver came into the chamber, collecting Cortez’s mail and assisting the man in dressing. They had him completely dressed in under a minute as James collected Cortez’s broadsword and handed it to him. Cortez was strapping it on when he glanced up and saw Diamantha’s worried face.

  The expression on her features startled him. She actually appeared… concerned, as if she cared what happened to him. His manner immediately softened.

  “I shall return shortly,” he told her. “Bolt the door after I’ve gone. Do not open it for anyone but me or my knights. Is that clear?”

  She nodded, fear swelling in her breast. “What are you going to do?”

  Cortez could see how concerned she was and it touched him deeply. It gave him hope, hope that all of the animosity they had experienced hadn’t irrevocably damaged their relationship. God, it made him so very happy. He reached out to gently touch her cheek in a calming and reassuring gesture. He simply couldn’t help himself.

  “The man wants to speak with me,” he said rather casually as he turned for the door. “Let him speak.”

  “But…!”

  He interrupted her, gently done. “Not to worry, my beauty,” he assured her. “There are more of me than there are of him. This will be a short conversation.”

  With that, he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Diamantha ran to the panel and threw the big iron bolt, her heart thumping fearfully against her ribs. As she leaned against the door, listening, her hand came up to finger the spot where Cortez had touched her. She could still feel his warmth. He’d branded her with his fire.