Lasses, Lords, and Lovers: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Roman was defiant. “Nay,” he told him. “I didn’t tell her. She would not have let me come.”

  “So you traveled all the way from Forestburn by yourselves?”

  “It was not so difficult, except we had to steal bread this morning.”

  “We were hungry,” Cade explained helpfully.

  “Aye,” Roman looked at his companion for moral support. “Do you think we should get money and go back and pay the man once we have rescued you?”

  Stephen was dumbfounded. After a moment, he closed his eyes against the vision of Roman and Cade traveling alone on unsafe roads, stealing bread to eat. It was too much for him to take at the moment. “God have mercy,” he muttered. “Thieves.”

  “We are not thieves,” Roman said adamantly. “We were hungry. We will pay the man when we get money, I swear it.”

  Stephen couldn’t help it; he snorted. The whole thing was so ridiculous. On one hand, he was so deeply touched that he could not put it into words. That these two young men should risk themselves for him was beyond comprehension. Yet he was so furious with them that he thought, perhaps, fury alone would see him break from the chains just so he could get his hands on them. He was torn, tormented and injured, a volatile combination.

  “Boys,” he said hoarsely, struggling to stay calm. “While I appreciate your bravery, you should consider yourselves lucky that I am tied up. If I was not, you would suffer the beating of your young lives for this stupidity. You will leave immediately and go find Tate. I am told he is near the Whiteadder Bridge. Get out of here while there is still time.”

  Roman looked flattered, frightened and indignant at the same time. “But… we cannot leave you,” he insisted. “We can find a way to release you!”

  Stephen tried to shake his head, restricted by the chains. “Roman de Lara, if you do not leave here immediately, I will break these chains that bind me and beat you within an inch of your life. And when your father finds out what you have done, he will do the same.

  Roman was taken aback by the attitude. He looked at Cade, who gazed back at him with equal shock. He looked back at Stephen, baffled, before determination overtook him and he shook his head firmly.

  “Nay,” he said. “I am not leaving. Cade and I are going to help you.”

  Stephen began to work himself up into a righteous rage. “So help me,” he muttered, “if you do not leave immediately, I will thrash you so soundly that you will not be able to sit, ride or otherwise use your buttocks for an entire month. You will not disobey me.”

  Roman was intimidated, that was clear. But he was also resolute. “Nay!” he stomped his foot. “I am not leaving. Come on, Cade!”

  He grabbed Cade and they dashed off, out of Stephen’s line of sight. He could hear their footfalls fading away, panic such as he had never known filling him. He almost shouted at them but didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, so he kept his mouth shut. Exhausted, dehydrated and injured, he could only stand in the stocks and fume, wondering what those two brave, foolish boys were going to do. Tate or no Tate, he was going to blister Roman’s backside if he got out of this situation alive. And Cade… it was not such a glorious beginning for him and his new son. But he greatly admired the lad’s courage.

  After several long and frustrated moments, he suddenly began to laugh. He didn’t know why, but he found the entire circumstance humorous. He figured, at that point, he must be losing his mind. Only an idiot would laugh at what the boys had done. But insanity didn’t reduce the fear he felt for Cade and Roman.

  *

  “That’s what the man said,” Kynan’s voice was grim above the sounds of Joselyn’s weeping. “At least he allowed me tae remove Jo-Jo. Ye can be grateful fer that small mercy.”

  Tate stared at Kynan, not particularly surprised at the message the man bore, before turning away to collect himself. He was, frankly, sickened at the news, something he’d feared but had not allowed himself to fully entertain. Kenneth, however, was not done with the interrogation.

  “De Velt said that Moray ordered Stephen drawn and quartered?” he repeated, his voice deep and threatening. “That does not make any sense. Stephen is a minor knight. ’Tis not as if he is an earl or viscount and holds any particular significance. He is simply a knight given a duty by the king. It does not make any sense that Moray would want to make an example out of him.”

  Kynan was wary of the bulldog of a knight with the blond hair and ice-colored eyes. Kenneth had managed to thrash him about fairly well when he was in the vault and the questions Kenneth asked were not properly answered.

  “Be that as it may, those were Moray’s orders,” Kynan kept a distance from him. “At dusk on the day after tomorrow, Stephen is tae be executed and his body scattered throughout the border as a message to all those who oppose David’s rule. More than that, it’s meant tae scare the English. After what happened tae Tommy and Willie Seton, Moray has prepared shock tactics of his own.”

  “But Stephen had nothing to do with my brothers’ deaths,” Joselyn was sobbing. “He said that he was Tommy’s guardian until the end. Knowing my husband as I do, I know that he must have been greatly saddened by Tommy’s death. He is a man of deep compassion. He does not deserve what Moray plans for him.”

  She was growing increasingly hysterical and Tate wriggled his eyebrows at Kenneth, who took the hint. He went to her, putting a big arm around her shoulder to comfort her. But she didn’t want to be comforted and when she tried to pull away, he grasped her firmly and forced her to look at him.

  “Jo-Jo,” he said, his voice softening. “Nothing has happened to Stephen yet and as long as I have breath in my body, I swear that nothing will happen to him. I understand that you are upset. We are all upset. But we are also seasoned warriors and if anyone can get Stephen out of this, Tate and I can. Do you understand me?”

  Eyes watering and nose red, Joselyn nodded once. “A-Aye.”

  Kenneth smiled faintly. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Do you believe me?”

  Again, she nodded, struggling to calm. “I do,” she hiccupped. “But… but he was so badly beaten. There is no knowing what they have done to him since I have left. What if…?”

  Kenneth shook her gently. “Listen to me,” he interrupted. “I learned long ago that it is a waste of time and energy to worry over things you cannot control. As long as Stephen has an execution order, they are more than likely leaving him alone at this time. They would not want him to die before his appointed time and risk upsetting Moray. Therefore, there is no reason for you to be upset right now. In fact, it would be better for Tate and me if you were calm. We are trying to think of a way to free Stephen and cannot think clearly if we are constantly concerned over your mental health.”

  By this time, Joselyn’s tears were gone completely. She swallowed hard, nodding to his words. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I will try to be calm, I promise.”

  “I know you will,” he squeezed her arms gently. “Your bravery helps us face what we must.”

  She wiped at her nose daintily. “Thank you, Kenneth. Stephen is fortunate to have such a good friend.”

  Kenneth’s smile returned and he patted her gently on the cheek, understanding why Stephen loved this woman so. She was very sweet and definitely beautiful.

  “You are welcome,” he said softly, giving her a wink before turning to Tate and, when he was sure Joselyn couldn’t see him, rolling his eyes with relief.

  Tate caught the expression from the normally expressionless man and suppressed the urge to grin. He watched Joselyn a moment as she struggled to compose herself. He was, in truth, wondering how in the world they were going to get Stephen out of Berwick in spite of Kenneth’s words of confidence. John Randolph, the third Earl of Moray, was an extremely powerful man in Scotland. If the orders for Stephen came down from Moray, then there was little chance that someone superseding Moray could counter the command other than the king himself. Unless….

  He turned away from Joselyn, his mind
whirling with thought. He didn’t want her to see his expression, the gleam of an idea in his eye. He caught Kenneth’s attention and motioned the man to him.

  “Send a messenger escort to Alnwick bearing my colors,” he snapped softly.

  “Alnwick?” Kenneth repeated, confused. “Why would…?”

  “Because Alexander Seton is being held prisoner there,” he whispered. “I will send a missive to Henry Percy ordering him to release Seton and send him back to me at Berwick. Send another man back to Forestburn and summon my army. Have them arrive by tomorrow noon and we will begin the bombardment of Berwick. Perhaps if we distract the Scots enough, their attention will be diverted from Stephen’s execution and we’ll buy the man some time until Seton arrives.”

  Kenneth was following him but it was clear by his expression that he was not in total agreement. “Bombardment?” he repeated, incredulous. “I thought we agreed that this was not a job for an entire army.”

  Tate fixed him in the eye. “It was not until Joselyn failed. I do not see where we have any choice now. Besides, you have already sent word to Edward, have you not? If I know the man, and I do, he shall bring his whole damn army, highly angered that Berwick is back in the hands of the Scots again. He is going to want the city back.”

  Kenneth suspected he had a point. “True enough. He should already be on his way.” He crossed his big arms thoughtfully. “But what do you think Seton will be able to do. He is Berwick’s defeated commander. They will not listen to him over Moray.”

  Tate held up a finger. “Perhaps not, but I am willing to wager on the fact that Seton will have the sympathy of every man at Berwick for what happened to his sons,” he said. “That could sway the situation in Stephen’s favor if Seton makes a plea on his behalf.”

  “What makes you think he will?”

  Tate’s gaze moved to Joselyn, who was standing with Kynan, listening as the man spoke quietly to her. Kenneth looked at her as well, understanding the implication, before puffing out his cheeks in a hissing sigh.

  “Stephen told me what her father did to her,” he lowered his voice. “I can guarantee that he does not want Joselyn’s father near her. We will have to be very careful on the amount of contact we allow between them.”

  Tate looked at him. “Stephen can thrash me for the rest of his life for my decision if, in fact, he survives the morrow,” he snapped softly. “We have made two decisions that Stephen will not agree with so I fully expect the man to ream me the moment he is released.”

  Kenneth crossed his enormous arms, looking thoughtful. “I intend to run far, far away and hide.”

  “I may not be far behind you.”

  “Let us hope we are provided with that chance.”

  Tate nodded faintly and turned away. Kenneth watched the man pace, his thoughts moving to Stephen and wondering what he would do if, in fact, they were unable to prevent tomorrow’s execution. Then his gaze moved to Joselyn, pregnant with Stephen’s son. It all seemed so horribly unfair, just when the man had found some happiness.

  But Kenneth was not willing to give up, not yet. He ordered four men south to Alnwick, about a day’s ride under normal circumstances, with instructions that they were not to stop until they reached Alnwick. Once Seton was retrieved, they were to make all due haste returning. He sent a second set of riders to Forestburn to collect Tate’s army with essentially the same instructions. Ride straight through, return with all due haste.

  With Kenneth barking orders and men on the move, Tate collected what remained of the escort he had brought from Forestburn and moved them well downriver, concealing them in trees and brush. He gave Kynan some money with the instructions to take Joselyn to town and find her a good room and a decent meal, but after the battles in Berwick recently, he was not so sure something like that was possible. It was made more difficult when Joselyn refused to go until he essentially forced her. In tears, the woman did as she was told. He then sent Kenneth back to the bridge with four men to watch the road and the castle for any activity.

  But Kenneth couldn’t remain stationary, not when his best friend was fighting for his life inside the pale walls of Berwick Castle. After a few hours of waiting near the bridge with his favored weapon, his crossbow, slung across his shoulders, he gave up the fight completely and took his men down to the river’s edge. Very carefully, they made their way upriver, around the castle, and to the southeast side where the postern gate was lodged.

  As he watched the castle at closer range, Kenneth was not at all sure he could wait for Seton’s arrival from Alnwick. Every second that ticked away was a second closer to Stephen’s death. As he hid in the tall river grass and watched the activity on the walls, he began to concoct a plan that would either save them all or see them all dead.

  He hoped it was not the latter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  De Velt had not moved Stephen out of the stocks. In fact, it seemed that he didn’t want to be bothered with the man, as he was more involved in playing lord and master of Berwick. Stephen’s possessions were still in the keep, which de Velt had claimed as his own, including any coinage that was in his bags. The next morning after he had been returned to the stocks, Stephen even saw de Velt wearing one of his tunics. It seemed that Morgan had not been satisfied with the bribe Stephen had presented him with, the reason for Stephen’s return to bondage. Stephen was only willing to give him the title of Baron Lamberton, including Ravensdowne Castle. De Velt was very interested, but he wanted the Pembury inheritance as well, which Stephen would not give him. So Stephen found himself back in the stocks and the victim of a spiteful mercenary.

  He was miserable and wounded. His back was killing him, his ribs screaming in pain and his arms had long since lost circulation. He couldn’t even feel them. But captive as he was, an odd and wonderful thing occurred. A few hours after Roman and Cade had run off, the boys returned under the cover of darkness, and brought Stephen water and some kind of bread that they had stolen from the hall. Stephen had struggled to resume his fury at them but couldn’t muster the strength when they were trying so hard to help him. It made his heart ache, these brave little boys who were risking their lives to give him water and food. The sustenance had kept him alive, or at least kept his strength from leaving him completely. It, and they, had been a God-send.

  The boys returned to him twice more during the night and when dawn broke, they brought something they had found stored in clay pots in the kitchens. It looked like some kind of pie and when Cade shoved it into Stephen’s mouth, he discovered it to be a cold meat concoction. For some reason, it made him think of his wife and her wonderful cooking. God, he missed her.

  Roman was giving Stephen the last of the water when they began to hear footfalls. Tucked between the hall and the kitchens as they were, there was a relative amount of privacy that had enabled the boys to come and go on a regular basis. But it also meant that if they were caught by surprise, they would be cornered. The moment they heard the boots, they dropped the cup and nearly crashed into each other in their haste to hide. The entire time, Stephen was hissing at them to hide until they finally managed to wedge themselves in behind a small wall that bordered the kitchens. Just as they ducked behind the stone, a booted man appeared.

  Kynan came to a halt when he saw Stephen, his eyes widening. In the early morning, he was swathed in his dusty tartan, partially obscuring his face, and it took Stephen a moment to recognize him. Kynan yanked the tartan off his head, his dark eyes blazing.

  “Not again,” he growled, moving for the stocks and trying to figure out how they had all of the chains secured. “The bloody bastards tied ye up again, did they? Barbarians!”

  He began to rattle the chains, pulling out the iron pegs that held them secure against the wood. He was making enough noise that Cade and Roman heard him, too far away to hear what he was saying but terrified that a Scots had come to remove Stephen from his prison. They were positive that the man was taking Stephen away to kill him. Cade was the first one to g
rab a big rock.

  “Get something,” he hissed at Roman, who began looking around furiously for a weapon. “We cannot let him take Sir Stephen away!”

  Roman’s hands fell on two smaller rocks and he nodded sharply at Cade, who suddenly leapt out from behind the wall with a very acceptable rebel yell. Roman was right behind him and they rushed Kynan, who was startled and stumped by the two young boys charging him. His lack of reaction was his undoing. Cade launched the rock and hit Kynan between the eyes, causing the man to go down. Before Stephen could stop them, the boys jumped on Kynan and began pummeling him with their rocks.

  “Cade!” Stephen was trying not to shout. “Roman, cease! Leave the man alone!”

  Roman stopped but Cade didn’t. He continued to beat Kynan in the chest with a rock. Kynan, however, had only been momentarily stunned by the flying rock. He blinked his eyes to regain his focus before shoving Cade off of him. He struggled to his feet.

  “Ye little devils!” he growled, grabbing Roman by the arm because he was the closest. He landed a big palm on Roman’s buttocks before Stephen could stop him. “I shall thrash ye both within an inch of yer lives! I shall beat ye senseless! I shall…!”

  “Kynan,” Stephen snapped over the man’s furious chatter. “Leave them alone. They are on our side, believe it or not.”

  Kynan stopped smacking Roman but he still had him by the arm. “What’s this ye say?”

  Cade was terrified for his friend and kicked Kynan in the shin when the man’s attention was diverted. Kynan howled as Roman broke free and both boys rushed at him, shoving him onto the ground and kicking him.

  “Good God,” Stephen hissed as a battle once again ensued. “Roman, Cade, cease your abuse. Kynan is not the enemy. Stop kicking him!”

  Roman stopped but Cade was slower to react. He kicked Kynan one last time and Kynan grabbed his leg, throwing him on to the ground. Stephen intervened once more before it got ugly.

  “Gentlemen,” he snapped softly. “Enough fighting. Kynan, those two young boys belong to me. Well, at least one of them does. The taller lad is Cade Alexander, Joselyn’s son.”