Five Unforgettable Knights (5 Medieval Romance Novels)

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Ross grimaced and tugged at the hem of his tabard, looking as if he itched to cast it aside. “The other squires at Inverfyre will mock me, for garbing myself more prettily than any vain maiden.” He tugged at the tabard in vexation. “What if the Hawk will not take me to his court?”

  “You need fear nothing. Our uncle is most fair, and Tynan has sent him a missive already,” Madeline said soothingly. Her gaze followed the stranger and Rosamunde as they entered the keep, her curiosity unsated by what she had seen.

  “A maiden might take note of you, Ross, if you look your best,” Elizabeth suggested shyly. Ross flushed scarlet, which did little to flatter the fiery hue of his hair.

  “Our fingers are bleeding, our eyes are aching,” Vivienne said with a toss of her tresses. “And this is the gratitude we receive! I expected a boon from my grateful brothers.”

  “A rose in winter,” Annelise demanded.

  “There is no such thing!” Malcolm scoffed.

  “You should pledge to depart on a quest,” Elizabeth suggested. “A pledge to seek a treasure for each of us.”

  “Sisters,” Ross said with a roll of his eyes, then marched toward the nearest ostler.

  Then Madeline had no further time to wonder about the stranger who had summoned Rosamunde. There was the usual bustle of arrival, of horses to be stabled and ostlers running, of squires and pages underfoot, of introductions being made and acquaintances being renewed. The stirrup cup had to be passed, sisters had to dress and the company had to be gathered.

  Soon, the moment would be upon them. The auction that all awaited, the auction that made the very air tingle at Ravensmuir!

  “Every soul in Christendom must be here!” Vivienne whispered to Madeline as they entered the chamber behind Alexander. Dozens of men watched their entry, standing politely aside as the family proceeded to the front of the chamber.

  “Not quite so many souls as that,” Madeline said. She had felt awkward since their arrival, for men seemed to be taking an uncommon interest in her.

  “Perhaps you will find a husband here,” Vivienne said with a merry wink. “Alexander is most determined that you choose soon.”

  “I shall choose in my own time and not before,” Madeline said mildly, then knew a way to distract her sister. “Perhaps Nicholas Sinclair will be here,” she added, her tone teasing.

  Vivienne tossed her hair at mention of her former suitor. “Him! He has not the coin for this.”

  Alexander stood aside and gestured that Madeline and Vivienne should proceed him. He seemed stiff, and uncommonly serious.

  “Smile, brother,” Madeline whispered to him as she passed. “You will never catch the eye of a merry maid with so sour a countenance.”

  “The Laird of Kinfairlie must have need of an heir!” Vivienne teased with a laugh.

  Alexander only averted his gaze.

  “He never remains somber for long,” Vivienne said as they sat upon the bench. “Look! There is Reginald Neville.”

  Madeline spared no more than a glance to the vain boy who imagined himself to be besotted with her. As usual, his garb was not only very fine, but he labored overhard to ensure that all noticed it. Even as he waved to her, he held his cloak open with his other hand, the better that its embroidery might be admired.

  “I have only rejected him a dozen times.” Madeline’s tone was wry. “There might yet be hope for his suit.”

  “What a nightmare his wife’s life will be!”

  “And what will he do once he has exhausted the treasury he has inherited?”

  “You are always so practical, Madeline.” Vivienne edged closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There is Gerald of York.” The elder sisters exchanged a glance, for that somber and steady man’s endless tales put them both to sleep without fail.

  “His bride will be well-rested, that much is beyond doubt.”

  Vivienne giggled. “Oh, you are too wicked.”

  “Am I? Alexander will turn his gaze upon you next, and demand that you wed soon.”

  “Not before you, surely?”

  “Whyever not? He seems determined to wed all of us in haste.”

  Vivienne nibbled her lip, her merry mood dispelled. “There is that Andrew, that ally of our uncle.”

  “He is nigh as old as the Hawk of Inverfyre, as well.”

  “Ancient!” Vivienne agreed with horror. She jabbed her elbow into Madeline’s side. “You might be widowed soon, if you wed him though.”

  “That is hardly an attribute one should seek in a spouse. And I will wed none of them, at any rate.”

  The Red Douglas men and the Black Douglas men arrived and took to opposite sides of the hall, all the better to glower at each other from a distance. Madeline knew that Alexander preferred to ally with the Black Douglases, as their father had done, but she could not bear the sight of Alan Douglas, their sole remaining unwed guest. He was so fair as to be unnatural. He fairly leered at her, the rogue, and she averted her gaze. Roger Douglas, on the other side of the hall, as swarthy as his cousin was fair, found this amusing and granted her a courtly bow.

  Madeline glanced away from both of them. Her heart leapt when she found the steady gaze of a man in the corner fixed upon her. He was tall and tanned, quiet of manner and heavily armed. His hair was dark, as were his eyes. He stood so motionless that her eye could have easily danced past him.

  But now that she had looked, Madeline could not readily tear her gaze away. He was the stranger from the bailey, she was certain of it.

  And he was watching her. Madeline’s mouth went dry.

  His hair looked damp, for it curled against his brow, as if he had ridden hard to arrive here. He leaned against the wall, his garb so dark that she could not tell where his cloak ended and the shadows began. His gaze darted over the company at intervals, missing no detail and returning always to her. He stood and watched the proceedings, his stillness making Madeline think of a predator at hunt. The sole bright spot upon his garb was the red dragon rampant emblazoned across the chest of his tabard.

  She felt his gaze upon her as surely as a touch and she knew her color rose.

  “Look!” Elizabeth said, suddenly between Madeline and Vivienne. “There is a little person!”

  “The chamber is full of persons of all size,” Madeline said, glad of some diversion to make her look away from the dark stranger.

  “No, a very small person.” Elizabeth dropped her voice. “Like a fairy, almost.”

  Vivienne shook her head. “Elizabeth, you are too fanciful. There are fairies only in old tales.”

  “There is one in this chamber,” Elizabeth insisted with rare vigor. “It is sitting on Madeline’s shoulder.”

  Madeline glanced from one shoulder to the other, both of which were devoid of fairies, then smiled at her youngest sister. “Are you not becoming too old to believe in such tales?” she asked.

  “It is there,” Elizabeth said hotly. “It is there, and it is giggling, though not in a very nice way.”

  The elder sisters exchanged a glance. “What else is it doing?” Vivienne asked, evidently intent upon humoring Elizabeth.

  “It is tying a ribbon.” Elizabeth glanced across the chamber, as if she truly did see something that the others did not. “There is a golden ribbon, Madeline, one all unfurled around you, though I do not remember that we put it upon your kirtle.”

  “We did not,” Vivienne whispered, dropping her voice as their Uncle Tynan raised his hand for silence. “Madeline does not like gold ribbons on her kirtle.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “It is twining the golden ribbon with a silver one,” she said, her manner dreamy. “Spinning the two ribbons together so that they make a spiral, a spiral that is gold on one side and silver on the other.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, knights and dukes, duchesses and maidens,” Tynan began.

  “A silver ribbon?” Madeline asked softly.

  Elizabeth nodded and pointed across the chamber. “It comes from him.”
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  Madeline followed her sister’s gesture and found her gaze locking with that of the man in shadows again. Her heart thumped in a most uncommon fashion, though she knew nothing of him.

  “You should not speak nonsense, Elizabeth,” she counseled quietly, then turned her attention to her uncle. Elizabeth made a sound of disgust and Madeline’s heart pounded with the conviction that the stranger watched her even as she turned away.

  “As all of you are aware, the majority of the treasures will be auctioned on the morrow,” Tynan said after he had extended greetings and introduced the family. Rosamunde stood at his side, radiant in her rich garb. “You will have the opportunity in the morning to examine such items as are of interest to you, before the bidding begins at noon. Of course, there will be many more arrivals in the morning.” The company stirred restlessly and the sisters exchanged a glance of confusion. “You gentlemen have been specifically invited this night for a special auction, an auction of the Jewel of Kinfairlie.”

  “I did not know there was a Jewel of Kinfairlie,” Vivienne whispered with a frown.

  “Nor did I.” Madeline looked at Alexander, who steadfastly ignored them both.

  “I thank you, uncle,” he said, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the company’s attention upon him. “As you all have doubtless ascertained, the Jewel of Kinfairlie is flawless.”

  “Where is it?” Vivienne demanded and Madeline shrugged that she did not know. A few men leered and she began to have a foul feeling in the pit of her belly.

  How could there be such a gem and the sisters know nothing of it?

  Alexander turned to face Madeline, and gestured toward her. “A beauty beyond compromise, a character beyond complaint, a lineage impeccable, my sister Madeline will grace the hall of whichever nobleman is so fortunate as to claim her hand this night.”

  Vivienne gasped. Madeline felt the color drain from her face. The sisters clutched each other’s hands.

  Alexander turned to the company, and Madeline suspected he could not hold her gaze any longer. “I urge you gentlemen, selected with care and gathered this night, to consider the merits of the Jewel of Kinfairlie and bid accordingly.”

  “Surely this is but one of his pranks,” Vivienne whispered.

  Madeline felt cold beyond cold, however. If this was a prank, it required the complicity of many souls. If this was a mere jest, it was difficult to see how it would not compromise Alexander’s repute with his neighbors.

  But it was beyond belief that he would truly auction her.

  To Madeline’s dismay, Reginald made the first bid with undisguised enthusiasm.

  “Alexander!” Madeline cried in horror.

  But her brother granted her a glance so cool as to chill her blood, then nodded to the company that the bidding should continue. He stood so straight that Madeline knew he would not rescind his words.

  But to sell her? Madeline’s gaze flicked over the company in terror. What if one of these men actually bought her hand?

  They seemed intent upon trying to do so. Reginald countered every bid, raising the price with such reckless abandon that his purse must be fat indeed.

  The bidding was heated, so heated that it was not long before Gerald of York bowed to Madeline and stepped back into the assembly, flushed with his embarrassment that he could not continue. Madeline sat like a woman struck to stone, shocked at her brother’s deed.

  Reginald Neville bid again with gusto. Was there a man within this company who could match Neville’s wealth? The older Andrew grimaced, bid again, then was swiftly countered by Reginald.

  He glared at the boy and shook his head.

  “Is that the sum of it?” Reginald cried, clearing savoring this moment. He spun in place, his embroidered cloak flaring out behind him. “Will none of you pay a penny more for this fair prize of a bride?”

  The men shuffled their feet, but not a one raised his voice.

  “Reginald Neville,” Vivienne whispered, her tone incredulous. Her cold fingers gave Madeline’s a tight squeeze of sympathy. Madeline still could not believe that this madness was occurring.

  “Last chance to bid, gentlemen!” Alexander cried. “Or the Jewel will be wed to Reginald Neville.”

  Madeline had to do something! She rose to her feet and every man turned to face her. “This would be the moment in which you declare your jest to be what it is, Alexander.” She spoke with a calm grace that did not come easily, for her heart was racing.

  “It would have been,” Alexander said, “had this been a mere jest. I assure you that it is not.”

  Madeline’s heart sank to her very toes, then anger flooded through her with new vigor. She straightened, knowing her anger showed, and saw the dark stranger smile slightly. There was something secretive and alluring about his smile, something that made her pulse quicken and heat rise in her cheeks. “How dare you show me such dishonor! You will not shame our family like this for no good reason!”

  Alexander met her gaze and she saw now the steel in his resolve. “I have good reason. You had the choice to wed of your own volition and you refused to take it. Your own caprice brings us to this deed.”

  “I asked only for time!”

  “I do not have it to grant.”

  “This is beyond belief! This is an outrage!”

  “You will learn to do as you must, just as I have learned to do as I must.” Alexander lowered his voice. “It will not be so arduous a fate, Madeline, you will see.”

  But Madeline was not reassured. She would be wed to the highest bidder, like a milk cow on the Wednesday market. Worse, they all found it to be merry entertainment.

  Worse again, the highest bidder was Reginald Neville. Madeline could not decide whether she would prefer to murder her brother or her ardent suitor.

  She swore with inelegant vigor, thinking it might dissuade Reginald, but the men in the company only laughed. “You are all barbarians!” she cried.

  “Oh, I like a woman with spirit,” said Alan Douglas, fingering his coins. He offered another bid which was swiftly countered by Reginald.

  “No marriage of merit will be wrought of this travesty!” Madeline declared, but not a one of them heeded her. The bidding rose higher even as she stood, trembling with anger. She could hear Vivienne praying softly beside her, for doubtless Vivienne feared that she would face a similar scene soon.

  Could matters be worse?

  Reginald bid again, to Madeline’s dismay. She felt the weight of the stranger’s gaze upon her and her very flesh seemed to prickle with that awareness.

  No matter who bid, Reginald countered every offer. He urged the price higher with giddy abandon and as the company became slower to respond, he began to wink boldly at Madeline.

  “You are worth every denier to me, Madeline,” he cried. “Fear not, my beloved, I shall be stalwart to the end.”

  “So long as victory can be achieved with his father’s coin,” Vivienne said softly.

  There were but five men bidding now, the counterbids coming more slowly each time. Madeline could scarce take a breath.

  “Out of coin?” Reginald demanded cheerfully as one man reddened and bowed his head, leaving the fray.

  Four men. Madeline’s mouth was as dry as salted fish.

  Roger Douglas thumbed his purse, then outbid Reginald.

  Reginald pivoted and upped the bid, fairly daring Roger to counter. That man bowed his head in defeat.

  Three men. Reginald’s manner became effusive, his gestures more sweeping as he became persuaded of his certain victory. “Come now,” he cried. “Is there not a one of you willing to pay such a paltry sum for the Jewel of Kinfairlie?”

  Then two men were left, only Reginald and the uncommonly pale Alan Douglas. As much as she loathed Reginald, it was a sign of her desperation that Madeline began to wish that Reginald would triumph. At least Reginald did not frighten her, as Alan did.

  Every bid Alan made, Reginald defeated with gusto. He did so quickly, flamboyantly, clearly no
t caring how much he paid.

  But then, Vivienne had spoken aright. It was his father’s coin and though there would be no more once it was spent, Reginald showed no restraint in ridding himself of its burden.

  Alan frowned, stepped forward and bid again. The company held its collective breath.

  Reginald laughed, then topped the bid, his tone triumphant.

  There was a heavy pause. Alan glared at Reginald, then his shoulders dropped. He stepped away in defeat, his pose saying all that needed to be said.

  “I win! I win, I win, I win!” Reginald shouted like a young boy who had won at draughts. He skipped around the floor, hugging himself with delight.

  Madeline watched him with disgust. This was the man she would be compelled to wed.

  There had to be some means of escape from Alexander’s mad scheme.

  Reginald chortled. “Me, me, me! I win!”

  “You have not won yet,” a man said, his voice low and filled with a seductive rhythm. “The winner can only claim his prize when the auction is complete.”

  Madeline’s heart fairly stopped as the dark stranger stepped out of the shadows. Though he was not much older than Alexander, he seemed experienced in a way that Madeline’s brother was not. She did not doubt that he would win any duel, that his blade had tasted blood. He moved with a warrior’s confidence and the other men created a path for him, as if they could do nothing else.

  “He is a fool to wear such an insignia openly,” muttered one man.

  “Who is he?” Madeline asked. She jumped when Rosamunde spoke from behind her. Her aunt had moved while Madeline had been distracted by the auction.

  “The King of England has set a price upon his head for treason,” Rosamunde said. “Every bounty hunter in England knows the name of Rhys FitzHenry.”

  “I daresay every man in Christendom knows of me, Rosamunde,” the man in question said with confidence. “Grant credit where it is deserved, at least.” He spared Madeline a glance, as if daring her to show fear of him. She held his gaze deliberately, though her heart fluttered like a caged bird.

  Rhys then doubled Reginald’s bid with an ease that indicated he had coin and to spare.