Mary was seated to Claire’s right. Light from the nearby centerpiece of beeswax candles made Mary’s blue silk gown shimmer. “Does the hall not look beautiful tonight?” she said with a happy sigh.
“It certainly does,” Claire agreed.
“The pottage is much tastier than usual, too,” Mary added with a grin, “no doubt because his lordship is dining here this eve.”
Claire could easily imagine the red-faced cook flying about the kitchen, shouting for more chopped vegetables and throwing handfuls of spices and dried herbs into the bubbling cauldron to get the pottage into a fit state to serve to Moydenshire’s great lord and his men.
As she sipped her wine, Claire felt some of the tension of the day slip away. Not all of it, though. There were still matters left unresolved, including what would happen to her and Tye now that he’d yielded to his sire. She hadn’t been able to speak to him after the reconciliation in the hall, for de Lanceau had taken him away to have his wounds treated. Then, according to what Claire and Mary had gleaned from the servants, his lordship and Tye had talked for most of the afternoon, while Dominic, Aldwin, and Edouard completed other assigned duties. How she wished she knew what Tye and his lordship had discussed.
Setting down her goblet, she glanced to her left, where Lady Brackendale was having a lively discussion with Lord de Lanceau and Dominic. Rings once again gleamed on Lady Brackendale’s fingers, and Claire smiled, glad to see that Tye had returned what he’d confiscated from her ladyship, as he’d returned what he’d taken from Claire.
Her attention slid to the table directly below the dais, where he sat between Aldwin and Edouard. Several more of de Lanceau’s trusted men were seated there as well, keeping watch on him. Tye’s head injury must be paining him. Yet, in his posture, the proud tilt of his head, she sensed resilience. Admiration warmed her, for while de Lanceau’s men were clearly reluctant to accept him among their ranks, he was determined to endure. And she knew he was doing it, in part, for her.
As he spooned pottage into his mouth, he glanced up at her, and their gazes locked. He smiled, and she smiled back, so very grateful that he was alive and that he’d reconciled with his sire. He and his father still had years of enmity to overcome, years of Veronique’s manipulations to undo, but they would, one day at a time. Together.
Lady Brackendale set down her goblet with a sigh and dabbed her lips with a linen napkin.
“You are well, milady?” Claire asked.
“Very well, now that Tye no longer rules my keep.” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. “’Tis a tremendous honor to have Lord de Lanceau back in my hall, eating at my table.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “He is such an intelligent, handsome man.”
Claire smothered a laugh.
“How pleased dear Arthur would be, too, to see this castle returned to the way it should be.”
“A place free of mercenaries,” Mary added with a shudder. “I heard that those who survived the battle are chained in the dungeon, until his lordship can take them away for punishment.”
“I am relieved we are finally free of Veronique,” her ladyship said with a disdainful sniff. “Falling from the battlements is a terrible way to die, but I am not sorry she is gone.”
Regret tugged at Claire as her focus again shifted to Tye. She couldn’t imagine the anguish of being rejected by one’s own mother and then watching her die. Claire hadn’t witnessed her parents’ deaths, but she had some idea what Tye was feeling now. She’d do all she could to support him, help him as he grieved.
“’Twill be interesting to see what happens with his lordship and the son he has just acknowledged,” her ladyship murmured.
Claire sipped more wine.
“I am also most curious as to what will become of you and Tye,” Lady Brackendale added with a meaningful smile.
The wine stuck halfway down Claire’s throat. With those few words, Claire sensed her ladyship had been very well informed of all that had transpired during the days following the siege. Blushing, Claire forced herself to swallow and then coughed into her hand, while Mary giggled and patted her on the back.
“Whatever comes to pass between Claire and Tye,” Mary said, “their romance will be recorded in the account of the conquest.”
“Oh, God,” Claire spluttered.
“We do have an obligation to finish our account,” Mary added, “and not just for our own satisfaction. We must consider folk of de Lanceau ancestry who are born years from now, who want to know the details of this castle’s vivid history.”
“You are right.” Sighing, Claire toyed with a piece of cheese. “Even I do not know how my relationship with Tye will turn out. His life has changed. He will have other commitments and greater opportunities. As a de Lanceau, he can have any woman he wants.”
Mary tsked. “Claire, do not be so dramatic.”
“I am only speaking the truth.”
Mary rolled her eyes and then glanced past Claire. “Tye is rising from the table.”
Goose bumps raced down Claire’s arms. ’Twas ridiculous to feel so anxious, but a lot had changed for all of them this day.
Tye walked to the dais and stepped up onto the platform to stand before his father. He bowed. Silence settled across the hall.
“Milord,” Tye said, his tone perfectly polite.
“Aye?” his sire asked.
“With your permission, I would like to speak with Lady Sevalliere. In private.”
His lordship’s gaze slid to Claire. A secretive grin touched his lips before he said, “Of course.”
Claire’s pulse fluttered. She rose a little too quickly, almost knocking over her wine.
De Lanceau waved Tye on. Tye strode down the front of the table, nodding respectfully to Lady Brackendale as he passed, then matched Claire’s pace, until they both reached the end of the table. He took her arm and helped her step down from the dais.
The chatter and music resumed, but Claire sensed many folk watching them, including Edouard, who walked several paces behind; he was obviously following Tye.
“My father’s orders, I am afraid,” Tye said close to her ear as he led her to the stairs up to the landing. “Edouard is to be my shadow until Father is sure he can trust me.”
Claire squeezed Tye’s arm. “Edouard will not be your shadow for long, then.”
“Why him, though?” Tye scowled as they climbed the stairs. “Why not Dominic or Aldwin?”
“Edouard is part of your new family. You will have plenty of opportunity to get to know him well.”
“If we do not end up killing each other first,” Tye muttered.
Claire managed a mock frown. “That would be very silly of both of you.”
Mischief gleamed in Tye’s eyes. “You must keep me on the path of virtue then, Kitten. If I spend my days with you, I will not be tempted to fight with my brother.”
She leaned in close, savoring the familiar, earthy scent of Tye. “You might be tempted to do something else?” she asked. She was being very coy, but with Tye, such lively banter felt right.
“Most certainly, I would be tempted.” Tye’s lustful wink sent delicious, hot-cold sparks dancing through her. On the keep’s upper level, he paused outside her chamber door. “Fetch your cloak. I do not want you to catch a chill.”
Once she’d donned her cloak, Tye took her through more smoke-hazed passageways and up to the battlement, shadowed in twilight. A short distance down the parapet, he’d been defeated by his sire. His mother had perished there, too. Claire ached at the thought that he’d returned to the place that held such anguish for him.
“Why here?” Claire asked softly.
Tye halted and took both of her hands in his. The feel of his rough, w
arm skin sent heat spiraling into her lower belly. “Here,” he said softly, “is where I finally understood what I’d truly wanted—what I’d been searching for—all of my life.”
Behind Tye, Edouard leaned against a merlon and gazed down into the bailey lit by torches. He was far enough away to give them some measure of privacy, although the breeze no doubt carried their conversation to him.
Meeting Tye’s solemn gaze, Claire asked, “What were you searching for?”
“Not vengeance,” he said earnestly, “not riches or power.” He gently pressed her hands. “You.”
Claire sucked in a breath. “Me?”
“Aye. The days I spent with you… They made me feel complete. Wanted. I never again wish to feel as I did before I met you. I do not want to be that man anymore.”
Tears brimmed in Claire’s eyes.
“I love you, Claire.”
“I love you too, Tye,” she whispered. “More and more each day.”
He smiled, as though her words meant a great deal to him. Then, despite the cold breeze, he dropped to one knee on the stone and took her right hand in his.
“Tye—”
“Will you marry me, Claire?”
A sob broke past her lips.
“I have no castle or fortune to offer you. I do not even have a betrothal ring yet. However, when my sire and I spoke today, and I told him my intentions toward you, he said to ask you anyway.”
“Tye—”
“Please. I want you to have a ring you love. I want you to choose it and every time you look upon it, to feel joy. And I am not asking you to wed me just because we…lay together. I know I am not the perfect man, not a fine and noble lord. Yet, I promise here and now, I will provide for you and, God willing, our children. I will be a devoted husband. I will be all you want me to be—”
With her free hand, she touched his cheek, coaxing him to tilt up his face. “Tye,” she said gently.
His eyes filled with the agony of awaiting her answer.
“I will be honored to marry you.”
Tye shot to his feet. “Truly?”
“Truly.” Before he could say another word, she threw herself into his arms, kissing him deeply, showing him how much love and happiness brimmed inside her.
With a groan, Tye kissed her back. His arms closed around her, holding her tightly against him.
A chuckle came from behind them. “Well,” Edouard said. “This day just gets more and more interesting.”
After slowing the kiss, Tye lifted his mouth from Claire’s. “Edouard, do you have to interrupt while we are kissing?”
“When you are kissing a beautiful woman and I am missing my wife back home?” Edouard groused. “Aye, I do.”
Claire laughed.
Grinning down at her, Tye said, “Shall we go and tell the others the good news, Kitten?”
“I think ’tis a splendid idea.”
Epilogue
Branton Keep, Moydenshire, England
Early April, 1215
Sunshine glinted off the chain mail armor of the scores of knights gathered in Branton Keep’s bailey. A sense of excitement carried through the throng as the men tied weapons and saddle bags to their bridled horses and readied to ride to London at Geoffrey de Lanceau’s command.
“Where are you, Tye?” Shading her eyes with her hand, Claire searched for him in the crowd. A little over a week after de Lanceau had retaken Wode, she and Tye had married on the portico of the small church near Branton Keep, on a mild day at the beginning of February. Branton Keep’s bailey had been just as crowded then. Lady Elizabeth, Lord de Lanceau’s wife, had invited many influential guests; some, including Aunt Malvina and Johanna, accompanied by Delwyn, had traveled for leagues to attend the ceremony and the lavish feast afterward at the castle.
Claire smiled at the memory, for it had been a grand celebration, a day she’d never forget. Afterward, she and Tye had continued to live with the de Lanceaus while he’d worked alongside his sire every day to build the trust and loyalty between them that both men clearly wanted. Mary still lived with Lady Brackendale, but visited often. Patch, who’d moved with Claire and Tye to Branton Keep, slept on their bed every night and had grown very attached to Tye.
Soon, Claire, Tye, and Patch would be moving into their new home: a riverside castle with rich lands his lordship had granted to Tye just last week. How proud Tye had been, that his sire entrusted him with an estate. She was incredibly proud of Tye, too, for he was indeed a changed man from the one who’d besieged Wode months ago.
Today, though, Tye would leave with his father and army as Lord de Lanceau journeyed toward London, gathering support from noblemen along the route who hadn’t yet committed to the Great Charter, the Magna Carta, that was now in the hands of King John. The King had promised to give an answer to the proposed charter on the twenty-sixth day of April, but de Lanceau had received word from his peers that the sovereign was planning to reject it—a refusal his lordship wasn’t willing to accept.
Months ago, in great detail, Tye had divulged how he and Veronique had spied on de Lanceau in a clandestine agreement with the King. De Lanceau had gathered proof that the sovereign had acted upon that information to subvert progress on the Great Charter, and planned to use what he’d discovered to persuade the King to ratify the document.
An anxious sigh broke past Claire’s lips, for she must find Tye. While her husband had promised to stay goodbye, she couldn’t wait a moment longer to tell him what she’d intended to say earlier that morning; however, he’d risen and left their chamber early, likely to help his father with final preparations. Mary, who was visiting for a sennight, had been the first one to hear Claire’s news. They’d clung to each other and wept.
As tall as he was, Tye was usually easy to spot. The scents of sun-warmed stone and horses reached her as Claire rose on tiptoes and strained to see as the crowd parted.
“Mayhap he is in the stables?” Mary said, standing beside Claire.
Claire squinted against the bright sunshine. “Mayhap. Or… Wait. There he is, to the right of that wagon. He is talking with his father. Lady Elizabeth, Aldwin, Edouard, and Dominic are there too.”
She made her way toward the group, Mary close behind. Tye still wore his hair long and tied back with a strip of leather, and he was still not entirely comfortable around his brother, but in other ways he’d changed so much since she’d first met him that fateful, snowy January day. He’d kept his promise to live an honorable life. She had no doubt he’d continue to do so.
As though sensing her approach, he glanced in her direction and found her in the crowd. He grinned.
Tye spoke to his father and then wove through the throng to reach her.
“Kitten.” He kissed her cheek. “You are well this day?”
“Very well.”
Mary smothered a giggle behind her hand.
Tye looked at Mary, then back at Claire. “Why do I see mischief in Mary’s eyes?”
Claire laughed, such excitement bubbling up within her, she could barely contain it. “Mary knows my secret. ’Tis one I must share with you before you ride away.”
“A secret?” Tye winked. “I am intrigued.”
“Good, because I cannot keep the news to myself any longer.”
“News? What kind of news?” His gaze skimmed over her, while concern touched his features. “Are you all right, Kitten? Is something wrong?”
Mary giggled again.
Not saying a word, Claire reached out, caught Tye’s hand, and placed his palm on the gentle curve of her belly.
His widening gaze locked with hers. “You are with child?” he whispered.
“Aye,” Claire murmured.
Tye pulled her into his arms and kissed her, thoroughly, splendidly. “God’s bones,” he said, drawing back to arm’s length. Joy and awe shone in his eyes. “I am to be a father.”
“I am very happy for you both,” Mary said.
Tye swallowed hard. “Whether ’tis a son or a daughter, this child will be greatly loved, each and every day.”
“It will,” Claire agreed, touching his cheek. “Of that I have no doubt.”
Tye kissed her again, and joy filled Claire’s heart and soul, for she knew, right here and now, she’d never been more content.
Never had she been more grateful for Tye, her husband, her gallant hero.
About Catherine Kean
Award-winning author Catherine Kean’s love of history began with visits to England during summer vacations, when she was in her early teens. Her British father took her to crumbling medieval castles, dusty museums filled with fascinating artifacts, and historic churches, and her love of the awe-inspiring past stuck with her as she completed a B.A. (Double Major, First Class) in English and History. She went on to complete a year-long Post Graduate course with Sotheby’s auctioneers in London, England, and worked for several years in Canada as an antiques and fine art appraiser.
After she married a tall, handsome, and charming Brit and moved to Florida, she started writing novels, her lifelong dream. She wrote her first medieval romance, A Knight’s Vengeance , while her baby daughter was napping. Catherine’s books were originally published in paperback and several were released in Czech, German, and Thai foreign editions. She has won numerous awards for her stories, including the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Her novels also finaled in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards and the National Readers’ Choice Awards.
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