Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  But Cortez couldn’t breathe easy, not yet. They were in Scotland, after all. For all he knew, this was only the beginning of worse hardships yet to come.

  He prayed he was wrong.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kirkmuirhill, Hamilton, Cumbernauld… Falkirk.

  Fortunately, whatever happened in Moffatt seemed to be isolated because they had been traveling for four days and no one had followed them. But the rain that had started when they were in Moffatt had indeed followed them, and the four days of travel to the outskirts of Falkirk had been wrought with some of the worst weather any of them had ever seen. It had been positively hellish.

  The wind had been vicious, blowing from every direction, consequently, most everything was soaked, even in the wagon bed where Diamantha and Sophie huddled together with the animals and tried to stay dry. Cortez had fortunately been able to find shelter every night so they could at least sleep beneath a roof and with bedding that wasn’t soaked, but the days of never-ending rain, mud-slicked roads, and misery weighed heavily upon them. It made for wretched travel.

  On the fifth day since departing Moffatt, the party finally arrived on the outskirts of Falkirk. There was a small settlement to the northwest of the battlefield, a three-street town with many crudely constructed homes and a stretch of road that contained several businesses including a one-storied tavern. It was raining buckets when they finally arrived in the sodden village and Cortez made no secret about the fact that he intended to take over the tavern to house his men. In fact, the entire column came to a halt in front of the tavern and Cortez sent his knights in to roust whoever was inside, clearing the way for him and his men. He didn’t care if it were bad manners, either. He was tired of being wet.

  Fortunately for all concerned, there was hardly anyone in the tavern and Cortez allowed those few patrons to remain, as all of his men poured into the structure to get out of the elements. Cortez carried Sophie inside while Drake helped Diamantha. The tavern’s common room was rather small, but it was warm and dry, and twenty-five men, six knights, a little girl and her mother quickly filled it up while the stable boys in charge of the mounts of tavern visitors took the horses away to be sheltered in the livery across the street. The wagons went with them.

  The tavern keeper was a short, bald man who was surprisingly handsome and clean-appearing. He had been in the rear of the tavern, making an inventory of the ale barrels, when Cortez and his men had taken over the place. He came out into the room of drenched, weary men, and was directed towards Cortez by one of the soldiers. The man approached Cortez, seated with Diamantha and Sophie, and introduced himself.

  “Me name is MacInnis, m’laird,” he said. “Am I to assume ye want me tae feed the lot of ye?”

  Cortez was cold and wet. He looked at the man. “An excellent assumption,” he said digging into the purse in his tunic and pulling out six gold crowns. He slapped them on the table. “This should pay for the meal.”

  MacInnis scooped the coinage off the table quickly, eager to be of service with a good price paid. Unlike the innkeeper in Moffatt, MacInnis didn’t care if these men were English. As long as they were paying a handsome price, he didn’t care who they were or why they were there. He had been present during the battle of Falkirk those months ago and he found that the English were much more respectful than the Scots had been during those difficult days. The Scots had stolen from him while the English, although they had absconded with items, too, had at least paid for what they had confiscated. Therefore, he held no issue with the Sassenach crowd.

  “Indeed, m’laird,” he said. “I have a good mutton stew and enough bread fer all.”

  Cortez nodded wearily, waving the man on. “Bring it to everyone,” he said. “Fill them full of it. And all the ale they can drink.”

  The tavern keeper nodded. “Aye, m’laird.”

  “And my wife and I require a room if you have one available.”

  MacInnis nodded his head eagerly. “I have two rooms,” he told him. “They’re both small, but they’re clean.”

  “I will take them both.”

  The tavern keeper fled into the rear of the tavern and Cortez could hear the man shouting instructions to his staff. Soon enough, two women and a boy were scrambling, and pitchers and cups soon began to appear on the tables. The boy went to stoke the hearth, producing a rather bold blaze that launched live embers into the room and onto some of the soldiers. They were so wet and cold that they hardly cared.

  At the sight of the big blaze, Diamantha began pulling off Sophie’s little cloak, drenched, as well as her own.

  “I am going to hang these by the fire to dry them off,” she said as she stood up from her seat. “You should probably have your men do the same. They will all catch their death as wet as they are.”

  Cortez nodded wearily, watching her walk over to the blazing hearth and hang her cloak on a peg next to it. She did the same with Sophie’s. Sophie, meanwhile, was sticking her fingers in the animal cage, which was resting upon the table and covered in a big oiled cloth to keep the creatures dry. The kittens, the puppy, the rabbit, and the fox were perhaps the driest travelers out of the entire group.

  As Cortez watched his wife, warming her hands by the fire, his knights, most of whom had been either scattered around the room or out in the back where the privy was, headed to his table and began to sit down around him. A pitcher of ale and several cups appeared on their table and Cortez asked for watered-down ale or milk for the child from the wench who brought the pitcher. As the woman scurried away, Cortez turned to his men.

  “Great Bleeding Jesus,” he exclaimed gruffly. “Get out of those wet clothes before you rust. At least go try to dry off near the fire.”

  Keir and Michael were already reaching for the ale. “ ’Tis too late,” Keir said. “My armor is already rusted shut. Your squire is going to have his hands full tonight cleaning all of our armor.”

  Cortez glanced over at the table where young Peter Summerlin was. The lad had been a mounted soldier on this journey and a sometimes-squire, a silent operator who kept himself out of trouble. Along with Merlin and the knights, the lad was never out of the sight of Cortez. He was a fixture. Cortez accepted a full cup from Keir, snorting softly before he drank.

  “No doubt,” he said. “But he’s young and strong. It will be a simple task for him.”

  Drake pulled off his helm, setting on the bench next to Sophie, who found great interest in it.

  “I will clean my own,” he announced, watching the little girl play with the visor. “I do not want my armor away from me for too long, given what happened in Moffatt. That was a lesson learned.”

  Keir looked over at him, cup at his lips. “What lesson is that?” he asked. “To sleep in full armor? That could have been the only possible lesson learned.”

  Drake scratched his face casually. “You of all people should have learned the lesson,” he joked. “A man fighting nude could get something quite valuable hacked off if he is not careful. Then your wife would have to find a new husband. It would be of little pleasure to her to be married to a eunuch.”

  Michael and James began to laugh while Keir simply made a face. “Any man that seeks to hack my manroot from my body had better get the biggest sword he can find,” he said. “It will take a sword the size of a tree to cut my manhood off.”

  “That’s not what I saw,” Michael teased.

  Now the entire table was laughing at Keir’s expense, who was halted from delivering a stinging retribution on Michael by the simple fact that there was a child sitting across the table from him. But he was going to give it his best try, anyway, when Diamantha suddenly appeared and sat down next to her daughter.

  “What is so funny?” she asked innocently.

  The knights looked at each other knowingly as Cortez shook his head. “It would not interest you,” he told her, quick to change the subject. “Why not take the cage over to the fire and warm the animals? They are probably quite cold.”


  Successfully diverted, Diamantha peered in at the little animals in the wooden cage. “They are huddled together so I am sure they are warm for now,” she said, accepting the cup of ale that Cortez handed her. “Moreover, I simply want to sit on something that is not moving for a few moments. I know it is far more difficult for you men to travel and my complaints seem foolish, but my backside is sore from being bumped around in that wagon. It feels good to sit on something still.”

  Cortez reached out and collected her hand, holding it on the tabletop. “We are finally at our destination,” he said, “so there will not be much travel in the foreseeable future, I hope.”

  Diamantha squeezed his big hand. “How close are we to the location of the battle?”

  Cortez’s gaze was warm on her but in the back of his mind he was trying to gauge her mood. Finally, they were at Falkirk, the site of the great battle where her husband had lost his life. Knowing how grief-stricken she had been with Robert’s death, he wondered if finally being at the location where the man met his end would bring about fits of sorrow again. So far, her demeanor didn’t seem to be affected and he was grateful. He had hoped that these weeks of travel, and the weeks of bonding between them, had helped her heal somewhat. That was his hope, anyway. He prayed it held true.

  “We are north of the battle site by a mile or two,” he said quietly. “There is a great wooded area to the southeast and the battle took place to the south side of those woods.”

  Diamantha was listening closely. “Did the battle spread out over a large area?” she asked. “Surely there were thousands of men.”

  Cortez glanced at the men around the table who had been at that battle with him. They all knew the horrors and triumphs of it. He’d hardly spoken of it since it had happened but now that they were in a calm setting, and Diamantha was asking for answers, he thought perhaps it was time to share the details of it and pray it didn’t throw her back into another cloud of grief. Therefore, he was careful in how he replied.

  “There were indeed thousands of men,” he told her. “Nearly six thousand Scots and fifteen thousand English, all fighting in a relatively small area south of the woods. The Scots were led by William Wallace and although some of his tactics were somewhat successful, once Edward arrived to the battle, Wallace was smashed and his forces scattered. It was an impressive and terrible day.”

  Diamantha had expected something more by way of information but Cortez seemed to be summing it up as a general happening. That was not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to know what happened.

  “Did you fight with Edward?” she asked, looking around the table. “Were you all in the king’s army?”

  The knights let Cortez handle the answer. She was his wife, after all. “I was with Edward’s army,” he replied, “and so were Robert, Drake, James, Oliver, and Andres. Keir and Michael fought with the Bishop of Durham, I believe. Is that not correct?”

  Keir nodded his head. “Our liege, Baron Coverdale, is allied with the Anthony Bek, the Bishop of Durham,” he replied. “When the call for men came, we were committed to the bishop’s army. On the day of battle, the king was late to the field while fighting had already started. Norfolk and Lincoln were already in the heat of battle but Durham was trying to hold off and wait for the king. There were some very foolish knights serving Durham and they disobeyed the man and started into the fracas. Michael and I held back with some of Durham’s troops until Edward arrived, and when he finally came, we were able to destroy the Scottish archers and beat down the pikemen. Say what you will about the king, but he is a brilliant military tactician. He overwhelmed Wallace with both manpower and skill. It was a glorious English victory.”

  The knights at the table nodded in agreement, all of them thinking on that chaotic day. Diamantha was thinking about it also, but in a different context. She was thinking on Robert and his last moments. It wasn’t such a glorious day for him. She looked at Cortez.

  “You told me that you were near Robert when he fell,” she said quietly. “When did he fall? Was it near the beginning or the end of the battle?”

  Cortez met her gaze steadily. “Towards the end,” he replied. “We were in the process of destroying groups of foot soldiers and Robert was hit by a Scottish longbow. There weren’t many Scottish archers left at that point but there was at least one because his aim took out a strong English knight. When he fell, I went to him and stayed with him as long as I could, but the fighting was moving to the west and my sword was needed.”

  Diamantha knew the rest. She simply nodded her head and looked at her lap, sadness filling her. The abject grief she had experienced those months after her husband’s death was no longer present, but she still felt great sorrow. It was a terrible way for a man so loved to die but she took comfort in the fact that they were here to finally bring him home. He would not be alone much longer. After a moment’s reflection, she took a deep breath for courage and lifted her head.

  “Will you take me to the spot?” she asked. “I would like to see it. The spot where he fell, I mean. It is important to me.”

  Cortez nodded faintly, squeezing her hand again. “If that is your wish,” he said, “but not today. Let us eat and sleep well, and then we will set out tomorrow to find the location. Is that acceptable?”

  Diamantha nodded and he lifted one of her hands to kiss it. He was pleased that she seemed in control, bravely facing what she must. To focus on the positive aspect, the recovery of Robert, seemed the best thing to do. He didn’t want to focus on what could not be helped, the death of the man.

  As Cortez sat there and watched Diamantha struggle with her sadness, the serving wench came around again with a big iron pot and a collection of wooden bowls. The bowls were placed before everyone and she began spooning out a great, hearty stew with carrots, peas, and beans, and another wench came around and put hot loaves of brown bread and bowls of butter on the table. She even brought something special for Sophie, a cup with juice from apples mixed with a bit of honey. In all, it was a tremendous feast and everyone dug in with gusto. Warm stew on a cold day was about the best thing possible.

  As the rain pounded and the lightning flashed, the Sassenach army settled in for a bit of food, rest, and relaxation, for tomorrow, the real work would begin.

  The recovery of a comrade, father, husband, and friend. Robert Edlington would no longer be one of the forgotten.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Close to dawn, Diamantha was awakened from a deep sleep by powerful arms pulling her close. She smiled, half-asleep, as Cortez pulled her against his naked body and rubbed his full erection against her buttocks. His hands began to rove, snaking up her sleeping shift and finding her soft, warm flesh beneath. As she groaned softly with pleasure, his fingers moved to her breasts, fondling them gently before moving to the fluff of dark curls between her legs. He stroked her and inserted his big fingers into her, preparing her body for his rigid manhood. Lifting up her right leg, he wedged his body between her legs and thrust into her.

  Diamantha was all wrapped up in his big arms as he made love to her, her nose and mouth against the flesh of his muscular bicep, inhaling his sensual musk with every breath. She could feel his face against the back of her head, the heat from his body enveloping her as he whispered words of lust and passion into her ear. He told her how wonderful she felt against him and how delicious her body was, in every way. His hot breath on her ear was driving her mad with desire as he repeatedly drove into her quivering flesh.

  Diamantha was so highly aroused that she climaxed quickly, biting off her gasps against his arm as Cortez released himself deep into her body. The opportunities to make love on this journey, to bond as only a man and wife can, had been extremely limited, but at this moment, they were relatively alone except for Sophie sleeping on a small bed next to them. The opportunity had been so rare that Cortez rolled Diamantha onto her back, lifted up her shift, and thrust into her again, repeatedly, before his stiff manhood died down completely. He didn’t want it to end.<
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  He simply loved the feel of her, nuzzling her neck and acquainting himself with her delicate female scent. Perhaps he should have felt strange about making love to her with Robert Edlington’s remains nearby, but he didn’t. Robert was dead and had no need for the woman who had become Cortez’s wife. Cortez, however, needed her a great deal. Every day saw him need her more.

  When he was finished touching and tasting her, Cortez lay back down beside Diamantha, arms wrapped around her slender body, and closed his eyes in the hope that he could doze a few more minutes before he was finally forced to rise. Diamantha, too, had closed her eyes in the hopes of a few more peaceful moments, but no sooner had they relaxed than Sophie began to weep.

  Diamantha was instantly up, straightening her shift as she hopped across the cold floor to her daughter’s bed. It was very dark in the room since the fire was reduced to a few glowing embers, and Cortez was dozing to the sounds of the soft whispers of a mother to her daughter when Diamantha was suddenly in his face.

  “Cortez,” she hissed. “Sophie is ill. I need your help.”

  The man sat bolt upright, nearly smashing Diamantha in the jaw with his sudden movement. “What do you mean she is ill?” he demanded softly, tossing off the covers and revealing his naked body to the room. “What is wrong?”

  Diamantha whispered at him. “She has soiled her entire bed,” she said. “Not only has she vomited, but the bed is soiled with waste. I think she may have a fever. I need warm water so I can bathe her.”

  Cortez was already putting on his breeches, banging around in the dark room until he lit a taper, which cast some light across the small room. Concerned, he went over to Sophie’s bed as he pulled on a heavy tunic.