Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

God’s Bones, she thought, straining to hear through the crooked door. I’ve already lost one husband. I don’t want to lose another, not when we are only coming to know one another. For a moment, she thought about her life should Cortez be killed. Her trip north to reclaim Robert’s body would end this very day and she would more than likely return to Corfe, to George and his melancholy, to grieve not one but two husbands. If she thought very hard about it, her grief for Robert had eased these past few weeks. She still missed him terribly, but the gut-wracking pain wasn’t there any longer. Now, she simply felt sad.

  But the idea of losing Cortez already had her stomach in knots. She couldn’t stand the thought. Damn the man for attending this “conversation”. Damn the man for not thinking of her first, knowing how terrified she would be at the thought of losing another husband. Well, maybe he didn’t know at all. She’d never given him a reason to think that she might actually be concerned for him. For all he knew, she was just as resistant to this marriage as she’d ever been. But Diamantha was forced to admit that it was no longer the truth. She realized that she wasn’t particularly averse any longer.

  With a heavy sigh, she moved away from the door, her gaze falling upon her sleeping daughter. Sophie had shown Cortez acceptance from the very beginning, something Diamantha still couldn’t openly do. But perhaps that needed to change. Perhaps she needed to show the man that she was indeed resigned to being his wife.

  Nay… not resigned… accepting.

  If he made it through this “conversation”, she would be sure to tell him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Forcing thoughts of Diamantha’s worried expression out of his mind, Cortez focused on the situation at hand. Making his way down the leaning corridor with James and Oliver flanking him, he paused at the top of the stairs and observed the situation in the common room below.

  Somehow, the room was smokier than he had remembered and it was filled to the rafters with people seeking shelter from the storm. There was a good deal of eating going on and laughter could be heard on occasion. The fat innkeeper was moving amongst the crowded tables with a pitcher in his hands, delivering his cheap wine into the cups of those who would pay for the privilege of drinking it.

  Above the smoke and conversation, Cortez could see his brother and Drake near the entry, back in the shadows. He made eye contact with them and Andres pointed over near the hearth. Cortez followed his brother’s pointed direction but he noticed nothing special or unusual in the area his brother was indicating. There were several people dressed in what looked like rags, drinking heavily and pulling apart a knuckle of sheep. There were also a couple that looked relatively well dressed, a man and woman who appeared to be travelers seeking shelter for the night. They kept to themselves, nearly huddled, seemingly fearful of the rabble around them. Cortez couldn’t blame them.

  Then, he spied a man who was very well dressed sitting at a table that was directly in front of the hearth. It was difficult to see clearly through the smoke, but he was sitting at a table with five men who were dressed in shabby mail. At the table next to them, there were at least seven men, all armed with nasty-looking clubs. Cortez could see at least three clubs on the table where the sheriff sat, branches of wood wrapped in leather and studded with nails. These were not weapons of honor. They were crude weapons meant to inflict as much damage as possible. He leaned towards James.

  “Is that the man?” he asked, pointing down to the table with the clubs on it.

  James nodded. “That’s him.”

  Cortez’s gaze lingered on the table. “Go rouse some of the men,” he muttered. “Tell them to come here in a hurry.”

  James nodded and descended the steps, heading for the front entry and the wild rain outside. As Cortez began to descend the stairs, slowly, Andres and Drake came out of the shadows to meet him at the base of the steps. All the while, Cortez’s eyes never left the table with the sheriff and his henchmen. Already, he could smell blood. He knew they hadn’t come here to socialize.

  Once Cortez and his knights grouped at the bottom of the rickety stairs, Andres bellowed over to the sheriff.

  “You, there,” he called. “Turn around and face me.”

  The sheriff jerked around and his men immediately stood up, clubs in hand. When the knights saw the clubs, the broadswords came out. The sounds of tempered steel grating against leather scabbards pierced the air and tension filled the room. The rest of the eating, drinking occupants of the inn began to scatter. It was never a good thing when two armed groups made themselves known. Even the innkeeper scurried back into the kitchen, away from the situation. His fat head peered out from the doorway, watching and waiting like the rest of his patron. Watching to see who drew the first blood.

  “Who are you?” the sheriff stood up from his chair, pointing at Cortez. “By what right do you bring your army into my town?”

  Cortez gazed at the man unemotionally. “Tell me your name or I will have nothing to say to you.”

  The sheriff’s brow furrowed. “Not until you tell me yours first!”

  “Then we are at a standoff already.”

  The sheriff sighed unhappily. He put his meaty hands on his big hips. “Dornauld,” he told him through clenched teeth. “This is my town. Now tell me your name and be quick about it.”

  Cortez remained calm. “I am Sir Cortez de Bretagne,” he told him. “I am garrison commander at Sherborne Castle, servant to our King Edward, and Sheriff of the Shire. I am passing through your town in my travel north. Is there anything else you wish to know?”

  Dornauld faltered somewhat. He hadn’t expected a man of high standing. It made him nervous. “I have heard of you,” he said with some reluctance, eyeing Cortez. “How do I know you are truly de Bretagne?”

  Cortez held up his broadsword with the de Bretagne crest etched on the hilt. “I would be more than happy to show you.”

  It was a threat and they all knew it, and upon knowing who this man was, Dornauld wasn’t so sure he wanted to engage him.

  “That is not necessary,” he said, trying to maintain control of the conversation. “Why are you traveling north?”

  “That is my business.”

  Dornauld faltered heavily this time. He glanced at the men around him, men holding studded clubs. He didn’t want to lose face with them, especially since he promised them a fight and the possessions of the losers. Swallowing hard, he struggled to appear as if he wasn’t intimidated. He had to make good to his men somehow.

  “All great parties passing through my town must pay tribute,” he demanded. “You have many men. It will cost you twenty gold crowns to pass through my town.”

  Cortez could see the man was a weakling. He sheathed his broadsword. “I will not pay,” he said, putting his hands on his hips in a rather sassy gesture. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Dornauld’s face began to turn red. “If you do not pay, I will set my men upon you.”

  Cortez’s mouth twitched with a smile just as several of his men began to pour in through the front and back doors. Soon, the inn was full of men in armor, heavily armed, and Dornauld and his men were visibly unsettled. Those holding the studded clubs lifted their weapons threateningly as Cortez’s men fanned out through the room.

  “Beware, de Bretagne,” Dornauld said furiously. “I can summon hundreds of men to overwhelm your paltry troops. Beware your next move!”

  Cortez was finished arguing with the idiot. He made his way over to Dornauld with his knights flanking him. Andres and Drake shoved a couple of Dornauld’s men out of the way when they crowded too close. Once Cortez reached Dornauld, he slapped the man across the face so hard that Dornauld fell back on the tabletop. Cortez was on top of him in an instant, his onyx eyes blazing.

  “You are either the stupidest man I have ever come across or you truly have no idea that there are men with armies that can crush you like a spider,” he snarled. “I have fifteen hundred men at Sherborne Castle who can be here within hours. I can give them orders
to torch your dirty little town and everything you hold dear will be gone. Anger me and I may just do it. Anger me further and I will send to London for more of Edward’s men, and we will wipe your village and your family from the face of the earth. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Dornauld knew the man wasn’t bluffing. He could tell by his expression. But he was used to controlling this town and everyone in it. He wasn’t used to someone dominating him. Angry, he tried to push Cortez away.

  “You have no power here,” he growled. “You have….”

  Cortez cut him off by another slap to the face. It was a humiliating gesture, for only women were slapped. “I have more power here than you do,” he exclaimed. “Allow me to tell you what is going to happen now.”

  “You cannot…!”

  Another slap shut Dornauld up. Cortez had the man around the neck. “You and your men are going to go far, far away,” he said, his voice low. “If I see just a hint of you, ever again, I will order my men to torch the town and I will set out after you as a hound tracks a fox. When I find you… well, you will not like it. You must trust me on that. Do you comprehend me?”

  Before Dornauld could say a word, Cortez caught sight of something in his periphery that was moving towards his head and he dropped to his knees in the blink of an eye. Dornauld, however, was not so fast. One of the sheriff’s men had evidently decided to take it upon himself to kill Cortez and the studded club that had been meant for Cortez’s skull missed Cortez completely and sailed right into Dornauld’s face.

  Dornauld howled as nails pierced his forehead and eyes, and immediately the entire room deteriorated into a massive brawl. Cortez’s men rushed in from the perimeter of the room as the knights in the center of the room began swinging their massive broadswords. Cortez was trapped beneath his brother fighting with one of Dornauld’s men. He crawled underneath the table to get free, unsheathing his broadsword in the same movement.

  When Cortez finally came up on the opposite side of the table, it was into a skirmish between his men and a few of Dornauld’s. The massive blade with the de Bretagne crest entered into the fray. What Cortez didn’t see, however, was one of Dornauld’s men making a break for the stairs. Only when James yelled at him did he realize there was a man at the top of the stairs, heading back towards the sleeping rooms.

  Diamantha and Sophie were back there. Cortez had never moved so fast in his entire life.

  Diamantha was in the process of laying out her wet hose in front of the hearth to dry when she began to hear heavy footfalls. Thinking that Cortez might be returning, she was moving towards the door when she heard a massive crash against one of the other doors out in the corridor.

  Startled, she jumped back, heart in her throat, as she heard another enormous blow. It shook the very walls. Then another blow on the door across the hall, now accompanied by bellows she couldn’t make out. Someone was yelling angrily. Terrified, she snatched Sophie from her small bed near the entry door and took the little girl with her to the opposite side of the room near one of the cloth-covered windows.

  Yanking the cloth away, she could see that they were several feet off the ground and there was nothing between her and the mud below. If she had to jump, there was nothing to break her fall, but there was something going on in the corridor and she would not wait for it to come to her. She had to get out of the chamber.

  A loud bang crashed against her door and she screamed with fright, holding Sophie tightly as she sat on the windowsill, putting a leg out of the opening. The door, being poorly constructed, gave way in spite of the iron bolt and a shabby man with a big club burst through. Wood and debris went flying all over the chamber. Diamantha slung her other leg over the windowsill and prepared to jump but was stopped short when Cortez came charging into the chamber.

  Like an avenging angel, he arrived just in time and he went after the intruder with a vengeance. Cortez pounced on the man and they both went sailing onto the bigger of the two beds in the room, collapsing it in a violent crash. The man had an enormous club, studded with wicked-looking spikes, and he tried to swing it at Cortez, who had him in a headlock. The man couldn’t get a good swing at Cortez, who had a big arm across the man’s throat and was squeezing as hard as he could.

  Within several seconds of Cortez’s strangulation, the man stopped trying to swing the club. He was losing air and losing consciousness, but he fought for all he was worth. It was a life and death struggle until eventually, he couldn’t fight any longer. Everything within him was fading. He went limp as his life drained away.

  But Cortez didn’t let go. He held the man tightly around the neck and when he finally stopped fighting back, he loosened one arm long enough to smash it against the side of the man’s skull, twisting his neck grotesquely. The sound of a dull snap filled the room as the spine fractured, breaking in half. As fast as it had started, it was over with deadly finality.

  Cortez didn’t stop to rest or regroup, or even offer words of comfort to Diamantha. He was still in battle mode. Breathing heavily, he stood up and pulled the man out of the room by his feet, dragging him back down the corridor and throwing him down the rickety stairs. The man landed in a heap down in the common room, dead for all to see. Such was the penalty for anyone attempting to harm Lady de Bretagne. Cortez wanted that message made abundantly clear.

  Still breathing heavily, Cortez staggered back to the room where Diamantha was still sitting on the windowsill with Sophie clutched tightly against her breast. She was becoming soaked from the rain pouring in through the opening but still, she sat there, her eyes wide with terror. It looked as if she was still contemplating jumping. Cortez went into the room, his arms reaching out for her.

  “Come out of the window, sweetheart,” he told her. “I am very sorry you had to see that. He did not harm you, did he?”

  Diamantha let him pull her out of the window. She even let him take Sophie from her and set the girl back on her bed. But the moment he turned to Diamantha for an answer to his question, she burst into tears and collapsed onto her knees. Cortez was next to her in an instant.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned, his hands on her arms, trying to see if she was, indeed, injured. “Where are you hurt?”

  Diamantha couldn’t speak. She was overwhelmed with terror. She shook her head, sobbing loudly, before throwing her arms around his neck. It was a gesture of both terror and relief, the actions of a woman who had been too close to disaster before fate in the form of Cortez de Bretagne intervened. She squeezed so tightly that she nearly strangled him.

  “I am fine,” Diamantha gasped repeatedly, sounding hysterical. “I am fine, I am fine.”

  Stunned by her gesture, by the feel of her against him, Cortez was nearly moved to tears. He hugged her tightly.

  “Are you sure?” he asked hoarsely, his face in the side of her head.

  Diamantha was close to swooning. She nodded her head furiously and released her hold on him, her hand to her mouth to try to stifle her hysteria. “I thought I was going to have to jump to escape him, but you….” She put her hands on his face, inspecting him for damage. “Are you well? Did he hurt you?”

  Cortez smiled faintly as she ran her hands all over his face and head, looking for injury. “He did not hurt me,” he murmured softly, loving the feel of her flesh against his. “I am well, truly.”

  Diamantha couldn’t stop crying. She was absolutely terrified. “Good,” she wept. “I am glad. But what happened? Who was that man?”

  Cortez shook his head, his arms still around her, trying his best to comfort her. He glanced over his shoulder at the destroyed door, wondering what would have happened if he had been a few seconds too slow. He couldn’t even think about it. It made him feel sick to his stomach. Standing up, he pulled Diamantha with him.

  “It does not matter who he was,” he said. “He is no longer any concern, but it looks as if he broke our door. We will move across the hall for tonight.”

  Diamantha was shaking so badly that she could barely w
alk. Cortez collected her, sleepy Sophie, and the animals, and moved them across the hall into a smaller room with two small beds. He put Sophie down on one, Diamantha down on the other, and set the cage down next to the hearth. All the while, Diamantha could hear the sounds of fighting going on in the common room. It sounded like a war.

  “What is happening out there?” she asked, her voice sounding exhausted and weak. “I thought you said you were only going to speak to the man?”

  Cortez poked at the smoldering peat, throwing a few sticks of wood on it to get a blaze going. “He demanded money in exchange for allowing us to pass through his town,” he replied. “I was not going to pay him. He was then inclined to demonstrate his unhappiness at my refusal.”

  Diamantha’s tears were fading but she was still rightly upset. Wiping at her eyes, she stood up on unsteady legs and made her way over to her daughter, who was lying down on her little bed. In fact, the girl hadn’t uttered a sound through the entire event and even now, she was nearly back asleep. Diamantha stroked her daughter’s forehead, pulling the covers over her. Seeing that her daughter was well, and calm, helped Diamantha to relax. Things were well now. Taking a deep breath, she turned for Cortez.

  “What will we do now?” she asked quietly, making her way over to him. “Will we still remain here tonight?”

  Cortez finished with the fire and stood up. “We will,” he said. “I will go now and see how the situation is faring. I’ll have the innkeeper bring you some food so that you may eat and get some rest. We will leave before dawn.”

  He started to move past her but she grasped his arm. “What about you?” she asked softly. “Will you not eat and sleep, also?”

  He nodded, gazing down into her beautiful face. Her hand was still on his arm and he could feel the heat of her touch through his mail, making his heart race.

  “I will eat and sleep eventually,” he said.

  He gave her a weary smile and continued to the door, but she stopped him one last time. “Where will you sleep?” she asked.