Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I do,” he said softly. “But I cannot keep this from her. No matter how much I want to, you know that I cannot. She must know.”

  Robert fell silent a moment, contemplating his next move. He had to do what was best for him and what was best for Diamantha. What was best for Diamantha was not living her life with a shadow of the man that she used to love. It would ruin her.

  “You said that you love her,” he said to Cortez. “Does she love you, too?”

  “Aye,” he muttered. “She loves me and I love her. We have been very happy.”

  “And Sophie?” Robert asked. “How is Sophie?”

  Cortez thought of the very sick little girl back at the tavern. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Robert of the child’s illness. It would only upset him further. It was one of those mercies Robert had spoken of. Grant me this mercy, Cortez. He didn’t need to know.

  “She has a lot of animals,” he finally said. “And I think she would sleep with that pony if we let her.”

  A smile came to Robert’s pale lips. “General,” he remembered. “I think she loves that pony more than she loves anyone else. And my father? Is he well?”

  “George is well.”

  Robert seemed to calm a great deal with that knowledge. Diamantha was loved, Sophie had her pets, and George was well. Those were the only people in the world he cared about. He was a content man.

  “Thank you, Cortez,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of my family. I am at peace knowing they are well cared for. You have given me the greatest gift of all and I am more grateful than you will ever know.”

  Cortez couldn’t respond. He was too overwrought to show any measure of generosity towards the man. He was crushed. Still, he knew it wasn’t Robert’s fault, any of it. He sighed heavily.

  “Mayhap you should let Diamantha decide what she wants to do with her life,” he finally said. “This is her choice, after all. You cannot make it for her and neither can I. She will want to see you, you know.”

  Robert’s gaze was surprisingly steady. “Then you really are going to tell her?” he asked. “You will not change your mind?”

  Cortez exhaled sharply. “I told you that I will not keep this from her,” he said. “If she ever found out, she would hate me forever. It would not be fair to all concerned.”

  Robert didn’t say anything. He simply looked at Cortez, seeing how utterly distraught the man was. It was clear that he was hurting badly. Robert was hurting badly, but not for the same reasons. It was time to finish what that Scots archer had started those months ago.

  It was time to go home.

  “Embrace me,” Robert said, holding up his arms to Cortez. “Before you go, please… embrace me. Let me feel your strength one last time, as you held me upon the fields of Falkirk and called me Brother.”

  Cortez looked at the man. He didn’t want to hug him but the moment he did, his guard went down and the tears came again. He could feel how weak and tired the man was simply by his embrace. He had no way of knowing it was a ruse, for the moment Cortez’s guard went down and he hugged Robert tightly, Robert grabbed the small dirk had had seen nestled in the belt at Cortez’s waist. Before anyone realized what had happened, Robert took the blade and plunged it deep into his chest, straight into his heart. He was dead in an instant.

  Cortez realized something was wrong soon enough. He felt Robert’s hand at his waist and before he could move, Robert grabbed the dagger and plunged in into his chest. Cortez screamed out in anguish, as did Keir and Michael, who had witnessed Robert grab the blade but were too far away to stop him. As Robert collapsed back onto his bed, bleeding out, Cortez stood over him and roared.

  “Nay!” he cried. “Robert, no! You cannot do this! Dear God, no!”

  Michael and Keir rushed at Robert, removing the blade and watching bright red blood run out all over him. They felt for a pulse, checked his eyes, but it was clear that the man was very dead. They looked at each other, at Cortez, with open grief on their faces. Cortez, however, stumbled back and collapsed against the wall behind him. It was too much to take.

  “My dagger,” he breathed. “He used my dagger to kill himself. My dagger. When I tell Diamantha we found him alive, she will think… she will think I killed him with my dagger!”

  Keir went to him, falling to his knees beside him. “Nay, she will not,” he assured him, “because you are not going to tell her anything. Think, Cortez, what good will it do her? She will have mourned for him twice! Let her remember him as he was. That is what Robert wanted, why he took your dagger to his chest. You must never tell Diamantha about this, do you hear me? She does not need to know!”

  Cortez looked at Keir, hearing his words of wisdom through his overwrought mind. It made a good deal of sense. The righteous part of him was determined to tell Diamantha everything but the reasoning part, the part that was so capable of mercy, agreed with Keir. It would do Diamantha more harm than good to know what had truly happened to Robert. She had already mourned for the man and to tell her of this event would undo all of the healing. It would hurt her more than help her, and he simply couldn’t do that to her. Not when he loved her so.

  “Nay,” he finally whispered. “I will not tell her. She does not need to know. Let her remember Robert as he was.”

  Vastly relieved, Keir pulled Cortez off the ground and they both stood there for a moment, gazing at Robert’s body. It was a sad sight, but in a sense, it was a comforting one, for one very good reason.

  “He is free now,” Cortez said softly. “He is truly free.”

  The other knights began to gather around, their attention on Robert’s corpse. Whether or not they agreed with Robert’s actions, they understood why he did what he did. Not only did he do it to spare Diamantha future anguish, but he did it to save himself. The man had control of his life taken away those months ago by a Scot’s arrow. Today, he took control back. As Cortez said, he was finally free.

  Robert Edlington’s body would make the trip back to Corfe, after all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Sophie was feeling better.

  Cortez’s first clue was when he felt soft baby claws digging at his belly, awakening him from a dead sleep. When he tried to move, he heard little giggles and the bark of a puppy. Opening his eyes, he saw Sophie standing next to the bed, playing with her animals as they nestled against his torso. He smiled sleepily.

  “Sophie?” he asked softly. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

  Sophie looked at him and he saw the light go on in her eyes. She was pale, that was true, but her big smile and bright eyes told him that she was well on her way to mending.

  “They want to play here,” she told him. “They like you.”

  Cortez grunted when baby kitty claws dug into his ticklish middle. “And I like them,” he said. “But can you please remove them now so I can get up?”

  Sophie nodded, picking up the two kittens and the rabbit, and carrying them over to the other bed. Cortez picked up the puppy and the fox kit as he sat up, handing them to Sophie when she came back to collect them. She was a happy little girl and he patted her head, smiling at her as she carried the remainder of her pets over to the bed.

  “There once was an old whore named Rose,” Sophie sang, “with a wart on the end of her nose….”

  Cortez flinched when he heard his song come out of her mouth, immediately looking around to see if Diamantha was in the room and hoping she hadn’t heard. He saw her immediately, sitting over near the hearth. She was looking at him, a faint smile on her lips, and he smiled back.

  “Good morn to you, sweetheart,” he said, scratching his scalp and hoping he wasn’t about to get a scolding for the naughty song Sophie was singing. “I must have slept long.”

  But Diamantha either didn’t notice or she didn’t care. She stood up from the chair with something in her hand and Cortez could see that it was Edlington’s stained tunic.

  “You were exhausted,” she said as she sat down on the bed next to him, ac
cepting a kiss on her cheek. “I am sorry that Sophie woke you.”

  Cortez put a big arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “It was the best thing I could wake up to,” he said, eyeing the little girl as she played with her pets. “She looks much better.”

  Diamantha looked at her daughter, also “She is,” she said, relief in her voice. “She has already eaten a big bowl of mush this morning and so far she feels fine. I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”

  Cortez kissed her temple. “As am I,” he said, then looked to the tunic she was holding. His manner sobered. “What are you doing with that?”

  Diamantha looked at the tunic, too. After a moment, she sighed faintly. “I was just looking at it,” she said. “I made this for him, you know. He was quite proud of it.”

  Cortez wasn’t sure what to say to that. She seemed sad but resigned. In fact, she had been sad and resigned since he had returned to the tavern yesterday evening with the tunic in his hand and the news that he had, indeed, found Robert Edlington.

  Diamantha had taken the news better then he thought she would. There had been a rather steely resolve about her, or perhaps it had simply been the fact that she’d had months to accept his death. In any case, as she had held the tunic and wiped away tears of both sadness and relief, Cortez had been very careful in explaining that the priests had collected the dead and wounded from the battlefield, and that had included Edlington. The man had been at the church all along. He told her that he was having the priests build a box in which to place Robert’s body and that they would soon be taking him home. All of it was true, of course, because the priests were indeed building a coffin for Robert, and the man was being washed and prepared that afternoon for his journey home.

  Diamantha had shed tears for her late husband but they had fortunately been short-lived. They had what they had come for – the great questing for Robert Edlington’s body – and she was satisfied. Thankfully, she didn’t ask to see Robert’s corpse because once she saw the tunic, both she and Cortez agreed that it was better to remember Robert as he was, a big and powerful knight. Cortez, along with Keir and the other knights, assured Diamantha that the corpse was indeed Robert, so with six men identifying her husband, Diamantha saw no need to personally identify him. Their word was enough, and Cortez was deeply thankful.

  As he sat and collected his thoughts, and pondered the great secret of Robert Edlington’s true passing that six knights had sworn to take to their graves, the rabbit got loose from Sophie and the little girl squealed. Snapping out of his train of thought, Cortez got up and went after the rabbit, finding it hiding under the bed and delivering it back to Sophie for safekeeping.

  Meanwhile, Diamantha had taken Robert’s tunic and carefully rolled it up, putting it into the barrel that made anything stored in it smell like cinnamon. She stood there a moment, gazing down into the barrel.

  “What did you do with the rest of Robert’s possessions?” she asked Cortez.

  He had made his way over to the table and the bowl of cold water. He splashed some on his face. “In addition to the tunic, we came across his sword, most of his armor, and one of his saddlebags,” he said. “All of that will be stored on the wagons. I asked Drake to see to it. Why?”

  She shrugged, still looking down the barrel. “I want to make sure we preserve them for Sophie,” she said. “It is something of her father that she can have. I think it is important.”

  Cortez agreed. “We will put them away for safekeeping and she can have them when she comes of age, mayhap to give to her own son.”

  Diamantha liked that idea. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “When did the priests think they would be finished with Robert’s coffin?”

  Cortez splashed more water on his face, drying it with a piece of linen nearby that was there for that purpose. “More than likely today,” he said. “I will go to the church later and check their progress. Once Robert is settled, there is no reason to delay returning home. I would like to before the heavy snows fall.”

  Diamantha agreed. She began rearranging the barrel as Cortez finished dressing and headed out into the common room. He wanted to meet with his knights to make preparations for the return journey. As emotionally draining as yesterday had been, he awoke this morning feeling a great sense of relief – relief that their journey had ended and relief that they had what they had come for.

  Still, he couldn’t help feeling some guilt and sadness over Robert’s final demise. Perhaps he would always feel some guilt for it. But he, like the others, prayed that Robert was finally at peace. Perhaps God would take pity on the man and not condemn him to Purgatory for his actions. God was a man, after all. Perhaps He would understand.

  His knights were at their usual table near the entry door of the tavern and he made his way over to them, listening to Keir and Michael deal him a few insults for sleeping late. Cortez grinned and slapped Keir on the shoulder, good-naturedly, as he sat down to bread and warmed-over stew. As he began to eat his first real meal in days, the door swung open and young Peter appeared.

  “My lord,” the squire said. “You had better come.”

  A sense of concern shot through Cortez as he swallowed the bite in his mouth and rose to his feet. “What is it?” he demanded.

  Peter merely waved him on. “Come and see, my lord.”

  The young lad bolted from the room, leaving the knights to follow. Everyone was wrought with curiosity and some apprehension as they made their way to the area outside of the tavern, with Peter pointing down the road to the southwest. It was clear this day with the rains having cleared out, but a touch of winter was in the air. It was very cold and breath hung in great foggy clouds as they all tried to see what Peter was pointing at. Cortez’s eyes were no good at a distance but Keir’s were. A slow smile spread across his lips.

  “Andres,” he finally breathed.

  Cortez wasn’t surprised. “He said he would catch up with us,” he said, great satisfaction in his voice. “But do I see two riders?”

  Keir nodded as Drake came up beside Cortez. “It looks like your father,” he muttered.

  Cortez sighed heavily. He didn’t want a battle on his hands, not today. After yesterday, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for another emotional battle so he braced himself.

  Sensing a hard change in Cortez’s demeanor, Drake leaned into him. He knew what had the man on edge.

  “Andres would not have brought your father with him if the man was still full of venom,” he said in a low voice. “But to be safe, I will go sit with your wife.”

  Cortez nodded faintly as Drake headed back into the tavern. As the rest of the knights stood there, the two great chargers heading up from the southwest drew closer and closer. Andres and Gorsedd came clearly into view and Cortez, feeling very edgy, moved forward.

  “Stop right there,” he told them. “Father, if you have come here to further denounce my wife, know that I have no patience for it. You can turn around and go home. Today is not the day to push me.”

  Andres held up a hand to signify his peaceful intentions. “Greetings to you, too, brother,” he said somewhat wryly, noting Keir standing next to Cortez. His face lit up. “St. Héver, you ugly beast! How did you come to be part of this ragtag group? And is that Pembury? Good God, two ugly beasts in one place. I’ve never been so happy in my life!”

  Keir grinned, as did Michael, but neither one of them responded. There was still the unanswered statement from Cortez. Uncertainty filled the air as Cortez took another step towards them.

  “Answer me,” he said, looking mostly at his father. “What are you doing here?”

  Andres gave his brother a droll expression. “Can we at least dismount?”

  “Nay.”

  Andres sighed sharply. “Cortez, we came to find you,” he stated the obvious. “Father and I had many serious discussions after you left and he has come to see the error of his ways. Old prejudices die hard but Father agrees that your wife should not be held responsible for
the actions of her ancestor. He has come to make amends. Now, can we dismount?”

  Cortez was looking at his father now. “Is this true?” he asked, considerably less hostile. “Did you come to apologize?”

  Gorsedd looked rather ragged and pale, sporting several days’ growth on his face. “All I have is my family,” he said, rather simply. “You must understand that I spent my youth listening to stories of de Velt’s atrocities against my grandfather. I had grown up hating the very name. Your wife… she comes from that family but she did not commit the crimes. Forgive an old man for living in the past and for letting old prejudices cloud his thinking.”

  Cortez couldn’t help but think of what he’d been told. Father’s mind is going. Maybe in flashes of insanity, he would forget his apology and relive the old hatred. He couldn’t help but be wary.

  “You are forgiven,” he said quietly. “But I am not entirely sure I can trust you around my wife. She is the most important thing in the world to me, even over you.”

  Gorsedd appeared genuinely remorseful. “Will… you at least allow me to apologize to her?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want my son back and this is the only way he will return.”

  That was probably very true and for that fact alone, Cortez was willing to believe that his father would behave himself. His family was the most important thing to him and he would do what was necessary to preserve it – perhaps even put aside an old hatred. Still, time would tell, but for the moment, Cortez was willing to agree. It was his father, after all, and he had missed him. He would like nothing better than for these wounds to be healed. He looked at Andres.

  “Do you believe him?” he asked.

  Andres nodded. “I would not be here if I did not,” he said, his gaze softening on his brother. “Give the man a chance, Cortez. Please.”

  Cortez could feel himself relenting. “Very well,” he said after a moment. “Dismount your horses and come inside. I will have Peter take your mounts to the livery.”