Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Cortez and his knights noticed the duo right away. Cortez’s gaze lingered on them for a moment until, suddenly, a light of recognition came to his eye. He appeared rather surprised. Abruptly, he stood up and made his way over to the knights. Back at his table, Drake, James, and Oliver stood up, hands on the hilt of their swords. If there was going to be trouble, then they would be ready.

  But trouble wasn’t what Cortez intended. Standing a few feet away from the pair, he spoke rather loudly.

  “Who let you two into this town?” he said, rather menacingly. “There are laws against your kind, you know.”

  The knights whirled around, features full of suspicion, but when they saw Cortez standing there, big smiles became evident. The shorter man even laughed aloud, a happy sort of crow. They rushed the man, grabbing Cortez’s outstretched hand in greeting.

  “De Bretagne!” Keir St. Héver, the shortest of the pair, gasped. “God’s Teeth, is it really you? I can hardly believe my eyes!”

  Cortez was so happy to see his old friend that he embraced him. Next to St. Héver, Michael of Pembury, an enormous mountain of a man, clapped Cortez on the shoulder so hard that he nearly knocked him over.

  “As gentle and tender as always, Pembury,” Cortez grunted, eyeing the man with the bright blue eyes. “I thought it was you two when you entered because no one is as ugly as St. Héver and no one is as tall as Pembury. What are you doing here?”

  Keir was still grinning like a fool, very happy to see the man he had fostered with many years ago. A very handsome man in spite of Cortez’s comment, and very blond, Keir had been Cortez’s closest friend, once, until time and separation had cooled those bonds. But the link was still there, unbreakable as always. The last time he had seen him had been at Helene’s funeral. He continued to hold on to Cortez’s hand as he spoke.

  “We are on business for Coverdale,” he told him. “I have two hundred men camping on the outskirts of town but I wanted a roof over my head tonight. I see that this place is crowded, unfortunately. Where are you staying?”

  Cortez was leading them back over to his table. “Here,” he said. “I have all four rooms but you and Pembury can surely have one. My knights can double up.”

  Keir was grateful. “My thanks, my friend,” he said. “You have saved me a good deal of effort.”

  They reached the table as Drake stole two chairs from another table and pulled them up for Keir and Michael. Keir thanked the man, acknowledging the others around the table.

  “So you still travel with this motley crew, do you?” he teased. “De Winter, St. John, and de Lohr. Christ, Cortez, haven’t you learned to keep better company?”

  Cortez grinned as everyone sat down and more cups for wine were produced. “Evidently not,” he said, eyeing St. Héver as the man poured himself a healthy measure of wine. “I kept company with you, didn’t I?”

  Everyone snorted at St. Héver’s expense, but Keir didn’t mind in the least. He clapped Cortez on the back.

  “Tell me what you are doing in Penrith, Cortez,” he said. “Will you have time to come to Pendragon Castle and meet my wife? I would like you to.”

  Cortez’s eyes glimmered warmly. “You have taken a wife?” he asked with satisfaction. “I am thrilled to hear that, my friend, truly.”

  He didn’t touch on the reasons why he was thrilled, the dark reasons that all men in this tight circle knew. Keir’s first wife and two children had been murdered in a siege a few years ago and the man had been emotionally destroyed as a result. Upon hearing of the tragedy, Helene had encouraged Cortez to travel north to comfort the man, to Pendragon Castle where Keir was the garrison commander for Baron Coverdale, which he had. He had stayed for two months, watching St. Héver slowly die inside. It had been terrible to watch. Now, to hear that he had married again was something of a massive relief.

  Keir wasn’t totally oblivious to what Cortez was thinking. He sighed happily, gazing upon his friend with more joy than Cortez had ever seen in him.

  “I married a couple of years ago,” he told him. “I have a son who is a little over a year old and my wife is expecting again. Chloe is a remarkable woman, Cortez. I should like you to meet her.”

  Cortez nodded, truly delighted for his friend. “As I would like to meet her also,” he replied. “But not this trip. I am traveling with my wife and we are simply passing through Penrith on our journey north.”

  Keir’s smile faded and he took on a rather startled expression. In fact, he glanced at Pembury to see that the man mirrored his surprise.

  “Your wife?” Keir repeated. “You have married again?”

  Cortez nodded, seeing the stunned look in Keir’s eyes. He reached out and gave the man’s arm a squeeze.

  “You and I both suffered great losses, my friend,” he said quietly. “You lost your wife and I lost Helene. But, like you, I have married again and I could not be happier. She is with me, in fact. She is upstairs with her daughter as we speak.”

  Keir’s eyebrows lifted. “You are traveling with a child?”

  Cortez nodded and poured himself more wine. “Let me explain, since I see that I have only succeeded in confusing you with my ramblings,” he grinned. “You remember Rob Edlington, of course.”

  Keir nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Rob fought with us at Falkirk. He also fell there. We lost many good men that day.”

  Cortez continued. “I never told anyone this because there was really no need, but I was with Rob when he was injured,” he said, lowering his voice. “Edlington knew he was dying and asked me to take care of his wife. I fulfilled his wish. I married Edlington’s widow. But you also recall that we were unable to recover Edlington’s body. This is something that has haunted his wife so she asked me to return to Falkirk to bring Edlington back for a proper burial. Because it means so much to her, I have complied. We are therefore on a great quest to find Rob Edlington and bring him back to Corfe Castle so he can be properly buried. That is why I cannot take the time to go out of our way to meet your wife. It would throw us off our time schedule and it is my hope to find Edlington’s body before winter sets in. If it does before we can get to it, we will have to wait for the spring thaw and I do not wish to remain in Scotland that long. Time is of the essence.”

  It was quite an amazing story, as evidenced by St. Héver and Pembury’s expressions. The two Coverdale knights looked at each other, perhaps in disbelief, before returning their attention to Cortez.

  “You are going to find his corpse?” Keir repeated. Then, he shook his head. “Cortez, you know as well as I do that it will be an impossible task. We lost many men under the mud of that field. It was horrible stuff. How in God’s name do you expect to locate Edlington’s corpse?”

  Cortez tried not to become defensive at the question. “I was the last person to see Edlington,” he said. “I know where I left him. We have brought shovels with us and we will dig test holes in the area until we find something.”

  Keir wasn’t trying to be critical, or talk him out of it, but it was truly an outlandish quest. “It will be very difficult,” he said. “What if you do not find him?”

  Cortez shrugged, toying with his wine cup. “My wife is aware that we may not,” he said, then looked at Keir again. The black eyes were serious and sad at the same time. “It means so much to her. I cannot let her suffer this angst without doing something about it. Besides, if I had dragged Edlington’s body out of the battlefield, we would not be on this quest in the first place. She would have had something to bury and all would be well. So, you see, it is my fault that we are here in the first place.”

  Keir studied him a moment. “You are blaming yourself for something that could not be helped at the time.”

  Cortez lifted his big shoulders in a vague gesture. “Mayhap,” he said. “But I intend to rectify it. So now you know why we are here.”

  Keir glanced at the knights around the table, knights that were loyal to Cortez no matter what. All the while, his mind was mulling over what
he’d been told. He glanced at Pembury to see if he could discern the man’s thoughts but he could not. Taking a deep drink of his wine, he smacked his lips.

  “How many men have you brought with you?” he asked.

  Cortez threw a thumb in the direction of the street outside, the last place he had seen most of his men. “Twenty-five foot soldiers and five knights,” he said. “I did not want to bring too many men because that often attracts trouble, so I brought a small party. So far, it has worked out well.”

  “Five knights?” Keir looked around, only counting four. “Where is the fifth?”

  “I left Andres at Coven Castle with my father when we stopped there a few days ago.”

  Keir’s grin was back. “I have missed Andres,” he said. “I am deeply saddened that he is not here. I owe that man a slug to the jaw, you know. The last time I saw him, he got me involved in a terrible tavern fight. He was dead-drunk and refused to pay his bill, and the tavern keeper’s son did not take too kindly to that. I think we fairly destroyed the place when it was all said and done.”

  Cortez laughed softly. “He has a talent for such things.”

  Keir agreed, draining the last of his cup. “Aye, he certainly does,” he said. “But enough of Andres and his foolishness. Let us continue to speak of your quest. Falkirk is at least a seven or eight day journey from here.”

  “I realize that.”

  “The Scots are not so friendly these days.”

  Cortez looked at him. “Have you had trouble?”

  Keir shook his head. “Not this far south, but I have heard rumor that there has been trouble on the border. The Ferguson and the Armstrong clans have been rather busy, I’m told. I believe Carlisle has suffered raids.” He looked seriously at Cortez. “Do you really intend to take your wife and child into Scotland?”

  Cortez struggled not to feel as if he was doing something foolish. “I have no choice,” he muttered. “I promised her. She wants to bury Edlington and I must do all I can to ensure that she is at peace.”

  Keir could see that Cortez was starting to feel defensive. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am not judging you, my friend,” he said quietly. “It is simply that the situation in Scotland is not at all calm. There could be trouble. Why not leave your wife and child at Pendragon while you continue on to Falkirk? At least they would be safe.”

  Cortez immediately shook his head. “Although I appreciate your offer, Diamantha would never agree to it,” he said. “She is tenacious. If I left her behind, she would find a way to follow me and that I could not stomach. Nay, my friend, where I go, she goes. This is more her quest than it is mine.”

  Keir understood what it was to have a tenacious wife, he had one of his own. He sighed knowingly as he poured himself more wine, glancing up to see the expressions on the faces of the knights around the table. He knew they would go to hell and back for de Bretagne. Their loyalty was without question. But he feared for them. He feared for all of them. More than that, this wasn’t a quest Cortez should have to face alone. He knew that without a doubt. He took a long drink of wine and set the cup back down onto the table with a rather forceful slam.

  “Then you leave me no choice,” he said firmly. “I was at Falkirk, too, and Rob Edlington was also my friend. It could very easily have been me with the man as he breathed his last. Only by fate was it you. Rob was a good man and he did not deserve to be left behind.”

  Cortez nodded slowly. “And I agree,” he said quietly, “which is why I am going back.”

  Keir was firm. “You misunderstand,” he said. “I mean to say that I cannot allow you to travel to Falkirk without me. I feel somewhat responsible for this as well. Every man who took part in that bloody day shares some of this responsibility. I could not live with myself, knowing you are facing danger to retrieve a fallen comrade and quite possibly undermanned with only twenty-five men and four knights. I will therefore go with you and if you deny me, know that I am much like your wife. I am tenacious, and I will follow you. I will follow you whether or not you like it, so the matter is settled. Pembury? Are you with me?”

  The big knight lifted his dark eyebrows. Michael tended to be the quieter of the pair, but when he did have cause to speak, it was usually of great meaning.

  “I cannot let you go alone,” he said in his ridiculously deep voice. “You are correct when you say that every man who fought upon those hallowed fields shares the responsibility of a fallen comrade, and since I was there, the burden too is mine. Besides, who would keep you out of trouble?”

  Keir grinned at his companion. “Then it is settled,” he said. “Tomorrow, we ride for Scotland with de Bretagne. I will hire a boy to take a message to Coverdale regarding our immediate plans and have him send word to my wife. She will not be entirely happy, but she will understand. She understands something about loyalty and friendship.”

  Cortez didn’t know what to say. He looked at Keir and Michael with some astonishment. “You are coming with me?” he repeated, somewhat awed. “Surely Coverdale cannot spare you.”

  Keir waved him off. “We have finished our business for him,” he said. “Besides, my knights are in charge of Pendragon and the garrison is safe. De Velt is in charge, and no man has ever bested a de Velt.”

  All of Cortez’s knights, and Cortez himself, looked at Keir with some shock. “De Velt?” Cortez repeated. “You have a de Velt in your service?”

  Keir could see the myriad of astonished expressions and he grinned. “I do,” he replied. “You haven’t met the man, Cortez. He’s several years younger and came up through Coverdale’s ranks. Now, I know the history of the House of de Velt in the north. Hell, everyone does, but I assure you that he is not a blood-thirsty monster as his forefathers were. Lorcan is an excellent knight and I trust him implicitly.”

  Cortez’s knights looked at him to see his reaction, but Cortez, over his initial surprise, ended up chuckling.

  “Another de Velt,” he groaned, looking over at his knights. “Be sure not to tell my father.”

  His knights were grinning but Keir wasn’t in on the joke. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What does your father have to do with the House of de Velt?”

  Ordering two more pitchers of wine, Cortez launched into the story of his father, the House of de Velt, his first meeting with Diamantha, and other things. It ended up being a very long night that saw Cortez and his men going to sleep just a few hours before dawn. But it didn’t matter. It had been one of the best nights he’d spent in a very long time, reliving old times and discussing the future with men he shared an unbreakable bond with. He considered himself an extremely fortunate man.

  At one point in the evening, as he listened to Drake launch into one of his many humorous tales, he briefly reflected on the life he lost three years ago. When Helene had died and the baby with her, he was sure he was dead, too. Even when he went to Corfe those few weeks ago to marry Diamantha, he still wasn’t sure if their union would bring any of the joy back into his life. But he was coming to realize that this quest had bonded them together as nothing else ever could have. It wasn’t so much that they were joined by the mutual quest for Robert. It was the fact that they had shared so much together along the journey, perhaps more than most married couples ever do, and in that adventure Diamantha’s character, heart, and soul was revealed. Perhaps his was, too.

  As he watched the men around the table, men he loved like brothers, he realized how deeply content and utterly happy he was for the first time in his life. It was more than he had ever shared with Helene. It was as if he had reached for the stars and had finally managed to grasp one. Helene had been like a warm autumn breeze, gentle and comforting. Diamantha was like the scorching summer sun, searing him until he was blinded by her. He couldn’t describe in words how he felt about the woman.

  All he knew was that he loved her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Carlisle, Lockerbie, Moffatt.

  Scottish towns didn’t look much different from
English towns, or so Diamantha thought. Scotland’s topography wasn’t too much different from England’s except there seemed to be a lot of mountains and a lot of lakes, or lochs as the Scottish called them. They had stopped in the Scottish towns at night to eat and sleep, and for the most part they had been met with hospitable people. Not that Diamantha had expected otherwise, but Cortez hadn’t been so sure.

  All of the knights had been on alert since the moment the party had passed over the border. Diamantha and Sophie had been forced to ride in the wagon, even in the excellent mild weather they had been experiencing, which had made Sophie somewhat restless, even with her pets to keep her busy. Diamantha, meanwhile, had passed the time sewing on the little tunics they had purchased for Sophie in Penrith. She was an excellent seamstress and the garments were turning out beautifully. Distracted with her sewing and also with her restless daughter, she could still feel the edginess of the knights as they traveled deeper and deeper into Scots territory.

  The two new knights they had picked up in Penrith, St. Héver and Pembury, had brought a good deal of power to reinforce Cortez’s ranks. When Cortez had explained their reasoning for joining the quest, Diamantha had been very touched. It would seem that Robert had many men who were fond of him and their loyalty to her dead husband pleased her immensely. Now, it seemed to be more than just a widow trying to find her husband’s remains. It was a host of his friends that would join her. Diamantha was coming to learn a good deal about loyalty from these knights who had fought and died together. The great questing was taking on more dimensions, now with added friends who would see Robert returned for a proper burial, too.

  So the days passed too slowly and the nights too quickly. The days were full of quiet travel because Cortez was fearful of noise, fearful it would draw a horde of Scots to their doorstep. Nothing was worse in Scotland than hearing a Sassenach accent on Scots soil. Therefore, the men traveled silently and heavily armed, making their way along the dirt roads in brittle silence. The last time most of them had been in Scotland, it had been to fight a great and terrible battle. It was therefore reasonable to expect that they would be conditioned to be in battle mode every time they walked upon Scots earth. Diamantha could see it in everything about them. They were an enemy in enemy lands.