Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  But very quickly, something did… he came to realize that Garret de Moray was no ordinary escort. Jago became aware of that fact the first time he saw the man put his arm around Lyssa and, soon enough, he kissed her. But it wasn’t any kiss; it was something deep and hungry. Even from his table, Jago could see it.

  De Moray kissed her like a lover.

  Now, Jago was coming to understand something about Lady Lyssa. The light of realization went on in his warped brain, brighter than the sun. She pretended to be chaste and she had everyone at The Wix believing it, but the truth was that she was not the virgin she pretended to be. Clearly, she was even some type of courtesan, only giving herself to the great generals of King Richard’s stable, for that was what Garret de Moray was – one of Richard’s most powerful knights.

  The woman was a courtesan.

  A whore.

  Now, it all made sense, and it was all the better for him. If she was a courtesan, then she knew how to please a man, and he was tired of bedding women who would simply lay there like a great lump of lard. He wanted a woman who would pleasure him, something Lady Lyssa would undoubtedly know how to do.

  The desire to have the woman grew tenfold as he watched her interact with Garret de Moray. When the man finally took her upstairs, Jago grew hard merely thinking on what de Moray was doing to her. She was a petite woman and de Moray was a very big man, with an undoubtedly large manhood, and Jago began to stroke himself beneath the table as he thought on de Moray plundering Lady Lyssa’s tender body with his big manhood. Plunging into her tender folds, again and again, listening to her cries of pleasure. Or were they cries of pain? Jago preferred the ones of pain.

  It made him feel as if he were getting the job done.

  Jago only hoped that Garret left enough of Lyssa for others to enjoy her, because Jago certainly intended to do that. And if she didn’t agree… they’d have to drag the river for her body.

  He wasn’t going to let the whore refuse him twice.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “A-And then – then he tried to run off, slipped in the grease from the table, and knocked himself unconscious!”

  Garret laughed uproariously at the end of Lyssa’s story. She giggled so hard that she ended up tripping over her own feet and falling onto the small bed that was wedged against the wall. Garret laughed and laughed, pouring her more wine and then drinking straight out of the pitcher, draining it. The potent Spanish wine had them both fairly tipsy. Garret had listened to Lyssa tell the most delightful story of a party that she and her mother had attended at the home of a lascivious neighboring lord. The man had tried to chase the women and ended up knocking himself cold.

  Garret was still hooting about it.

  “God’s Bones,” he muttered, turning the now-empty pitcher upside down to get the last drops. “He sounds like a perfectly abominable neighbor.”

  Lyssa was flat on her back, gazing up at the ceiling and feeling a bit as if she were on the ocean; everything was rocking around. “H-He was terrible,” she agreed. “H-He was forever attempting to lure my mother to his home, which was a very nice one, but, one time, she came to visit because he promised her something – I do not even remember what it was – and when she went to the home, he greeted her without his trousers on. S-She said he was wearing a robe and a tunic and little more. S-She ran back to our house as fast as she could!”

  Garret snorted, shaking his head at the tale of the lewd lord. “It is a pathetic man who would try to lure women to his home for less than honorable reasons,” he said. “Where does the man live in case I am in the area someday and must avenge your mother’s honor?”

  Lyssa giggled. “M-My mother’s family is from the Welsh Marches,” she said. “O-Our family’s seat is Rhayder Castle, but my grandsire was so disappointed with my mother when she ran from my father that he sent us to live in a tiny lodge to the north, in a town called St. Harmon. T-The lord I speak of was in a nearby town called Marteg. Lord Gilfach was his name.”

  Garret set the empty pitcher down, realizing he would get no more out of it. “Gilfach,” he muttered. “I shall remember that name. And what of your grandsire? Why did he not protect you from this… this predator?”

  Lyssa’s mind went back to those days at St. Harmon. They weren’t particularly fond memories. “O-Once my mother returned from France, I do believe my grandsire hated her,” she said. “H-He was not very nice to her or to me. I-I do not remember him well, but what I do remember was not pleasant. H-He died some time ago and for those who are left, I do not consider them family. T-They have made it clear I am not part of their clan.”

  The tone of the conversation was changing, becoming moody now. “But your Aunt Rose serves the duchess,” he said. “She obviously considers you family or she would not have sent for you upon your mother’s death.”

  Lyssa rolled onto her side, looking at him as he sat on the floor because the stools were too uncomfortable for a man of his size. His back was against the wall, one big leg propped up.

  “A-Aunt Rose loved my mother,” she said. “S-She speaks well of her, but she did not know her well after she married my father or after we returned to England. F-From the stories my aunt tells, my mother was a lively and happy woman before her marriage. B-But my memories of my mother are quite different. I-I think shame and disappointment will change people. D-Don’t you?”

  Garret nodded. “If a man is beat down enough, it will change him,” he said pensively. “I have seen it happen to even the strongest men.”

  Lyssa watched him as he sat there and gazed into the flickering hearth. Her mind was whirling in many directions, thoughts of the past, the present, and the future filling her head. The wine had made her scattered and unable to focus.

  “B-But not you,” she said softly. “Y-You are the greatest knight in England. N-Nothing will ever change you. S-Surely you have never known any disappointment.”

  He looked at her, his head lolling sideways and his black eyes half-lidded. “That is not entirely true,” he said. “I have known disappointment.”

  “W-What?”

  He thought on her question, the strong Spanish wine breaking down barriers that were normally there. “I am not the firstborn son,” he said. “I have always found some disappointment in that. Rickard was the first; he shall inherit everything from my father. Mayhap this is why I have worked so hard to be better and stronger than everyone else. Mayhap it is to prove to myself that I am, indeed, a worthy man.”

  Lyssa smiled faintly. “B-But you adore your brother, do you not?”

  “I do.”

  “H-He is proud of you, also.”

  “I hope so. He means a good deal to me.”

  “T-Then you are a rich man, indeed,” she said. “Y-You have the love of your brother. Y-You have property and titles that you have earned. I-I would say that makes you a very rich man.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “G-Garret?”

  “Aye?”

  “I-I do not want to go back to The Wix tonight. I-I want to remain here, with you.”

  He was silent for a moment before sitting forward, perhaps even trying to rise to his feet. “I promised your aunt that I would return you,” he said. “As much as it pains me to take you back to The Wix, I will not go back on my word. But take comfort in the fact that tomorrow morning, I shall take you away and you shall never see that place again, not ever.”

  Lyssa wasn’t happy with that answer. The alcohol had magnified her fears, her emotions, and, soon enough, tears were trickling down her temple and onto the bed. Even in the dim light, Garret could see that and he finally managed to make it to his feet, lurching the few steps over to the bed. He gazed down at her as she lay curled up on her side.

  “Why do you weep?” he asked softly.

  She closed her eyes and sniffled. “B-Because I do not want to go back,” she whispered tightly. “I-I am afraid.”

  Bending over, he put a big hand on her head. “There is no need,” he as
sured her. “I will take you back tonight. You will go inside and lock yourself in. You will be safe until morning.”

  Lyssa latched on to the hand that was on her head. “P-Please,” she begged, tugging at him. “P-Please do not make me go back. S-Send word to my aunt and tell her that I have spent the night safely in a tavern. T-Tell her I am afraid to go back.”

  She tugged enough that he ended up half on the bed, with one knee on the ground beside it. The bed was low to the ground and once he lost his balance and ended up on a knee, Lyssa put her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. Garret very quickly found himself in a rather enticing position.

  “It is only for the night,” he assured her, although he had to admit that this position, with him over her, was the most natural of positions. And those lips… those lips had his focus and he struggled to finish his train of thought. “If it would comfort you, I will turn you over to Rickard and he can put you somewhere other than the manse. I am sure there is a room in the servant’s quarters or even the barracks where he could lock you in, somewhere Colchester would never think of looking.”

  Lyssa had her arms locked around his neck, looking into his face. He seemed confident and with such confidence, it was only natural that her fears would fade. She trusted him and she knew he would never put her in harm’s way but, still, she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want this moment, this sweet and private moment, to ever end.

  “I-I know you will do what you feel is best,” she said quietly. “T-Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “It is my pleasure.”

  “G-Garret?”

  “Aye, sweet?”

  “I-I promise to take care of you, also. I-I will do everything I can to always make you happy.”

  He smiled faintly, inevitably settling down onto the bed. She was pulling at him, gently, and he could hardly resist the call. “And I shall do the same. Making you happy is my greatest desire.”

  She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I-Is that not what love is? M-Making one another happy?”

  Love.

  There was that word. He’d not even considered that word until now because it really wasn’t something in his vocabulary. He loved Richard, he loved his country, and he loved his fellow knights like brothers, but to love a woman? He’d never done that before. Only fools and women fell in love.

  … didn’t they?

  “I would not know,” he said, off-balance by the mention of that word he was so unfamiliar with. “I suppose that is small part of it. There are many things that make a marriage but I do not expect love is the most important thing.”

  The smile vanished from Lyssa’s face. That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the downplay of a warm and wonderful emotion such a love hadn’t been in her thoughts.

  In truth, loving the man, or falling in love with him, had only just occurred to her. Having never expected to have a husband, she certainly never expected to love one but Garret was different. She held him in such high esteem that she was certainly love was a possibility. At least, for her it was. But his answer had her feeling embarrassed and disappointed. It also had her feeling the least bit insecure.

  She knew how men behaved within the bonds of marriage. Her father had kept mistresses and the only other man she’d been in contact with, Colchester, had certain had his share of women. Everyone knew that.

  Was it possible that Garret would be the same way? Was it possible that he would only marry her so that she could bear him legitimate children while he dallied with a stable full of other women? The mere thought made her sick. Thinking of Garret in another woman’s arms….

  Suddenly, Lyssa sat up, practically shoving Garret aside. She was grappling to get out of the bed, almost in a panic. Garret had hold of her, unsure what had her so upset.

  “What is it, Lyssa?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “What is…?”

  She cut him off, diving under one of his big arms so she could get to the end of the bed and, subsequently, climb off it.

  “L-Love is not unimportant,” she spat even as he tried to grab at her. “L-Love is the most important thing in the world and if you do not think so, Garret de Moray, then go find someone else to marry. I-It is love that will keep you from straying, love that will keep you longing for me, and love that will keep us together for the rest of our lives. I-I do not intend to be kept like a prized mare, bearing your sons while you go philandering with other women. I-I have feelings! I-I saw what my mother went through and I will not go through the same thing with you!”

  She was fired up and he grabbed her just as she climbed off the bed. But she struggled against him and he ended up flipping her onto the bed and covering her up with his big body so she couldn’t get away. But Lyssa wasn’t having any part of it; she poked him right in the eye and he grunted in pain, releasing her just enough so she could try to climb off the bed again. She was nearly off the bed when she heard something very odd.

  It sounded like grunting, only it was rhythmic and low. Lyssa paused in her flight to see that Garret was laying on the bed, laughing into his hands. Only she didn’t think he was laughing at first; she thought he was weeping. In a panic, she ran to him and peeled his hands away from his face.

  “G-God’s Bones,” she hissed. “D-Did I hurt you? D-Did I blind you? L-Let me see what I have done!”

  Garret let her pull his hands away but it was all a ploy; as soon as his hands were freed, he grabbed her and pulled her down on top of him. As she gasped, he rolled onto his side on the little bed and effectively trapped her between his big body and the wall. His face was very close to hers as he spoke.

  “You will listen to me and listen well,” he growled. “I am not a dishonorable man. When you become my wife, you will be the only woman I take to my bed or shower my affections upon. All other women will cease to exist. I will honor you and respect you, and I will lay down my life for you. You will become all to me, for the sun shall rise and set upon you. I will adore you and only you until I take my last breath. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Lyssa had stopped fighting him. Wrapped up in those enormous arms, her heart was fluttering again and she was having difficulty breathing. He was so close, so very close, and it was the most beautiful and empowering feeling she’d ever known. She couldn’t even answer his question.

  All she could do was show him how she felt.

  Her lips, tasting like the strong Spanish wine, latched on to Garret’s and, in a flash, he responded. Garret had kissed her before, and it had been sensual and warm, and it had made her entire body tingle, but this was different. There was more power to it and, perhaps, more emotion. But this time, there was no one to interrupt them, no drunks bumping into them.

  There was no one to stop the progression.

  But Lyssa wasn’t afraid. That word that had occurred to her – love – was in her mind again as Garret’s lips devoured hers. Did she love him? She thought he was quite possibly the most remarkable man on the face of the earth. He was strong, honorable, and handsome. He made her laugh. He was attentive and compassionate.

  … what was there not to love?

  Therefore, she simply went along with what he was doing because it seemed like the most natural of things. His kisses tasted like wine, much as hers did. Soon, his tongue was in her mouth, gently lapping at her, tasting her. He was being so very tender with her, making her heart flutter to the point where she couldn’t catch her breath. There was nothing else in the world more important than his lips on hers, his arms around her holding her close.

  Nothing else seemed to matter.

  Lyssa felt like so much flotsam in his big hands. He was the ocean, washing over her, bending her to his will, and she was permitting it without any hesitation. When she should have felt overwhelmed at the very least, she couldn’t even manage it.

  I will adore you until my last breath.

  Perhaps it was too soon to use a word like love. But he adored her and that was goo
d enough for her. She adored him, too.

  Garret’s mouth left her lips to move down her neck, nibbling on her in a way that sent chills shooting through her body. In fact, it made her entire body feel warm and liquid, her stomach quivering as he suckled on her shoulder. He even bit her, gently, and she gasped at the pleasure-pain of it. It made her giggle. Garret smiled at her response but it seemed to fuel his desire as well. The next thing Lyssa realized, he was pulling off his tunic and tossing it on the ground.

  His body came down on top of her, heavily, pinning her to the bed. His nude chest was beneath her hands, his flesh warm and hard. His movements were stronger now but she still wasn’t frightened; she was experiencing every touch, every kiss, with the greatest of wonder. Whatever Garret was doing was feeding something inside of her, too, something she’d never felt before. It was enough to make her sweat, as if she needed to take her clothes off, too. When she reached around to fumble with the ties on the side of her dress, Garret quite eagerly helped her. In the midst of his heated kisses, her pulled her gown right over her head and took her shift with it.

  Suddenly naked beneath him, Lyssa was starting to feel some hesitation. She hadn’t expected the shift to go, too, but it had, and now she was completely nude. But that embarrassment was short-lived when Garret’s heated mouth descended on a peaked nipple and, at that moment, shame dissolved. Some kind of primal lust took hold. All Lyssa could think of was his mouth on her breast, suckling her hungrily and she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him against her, feeling every last sensation he was firing through her small body.

  But it was more than simply a sensation at her breast; something was happening below her waist, too. Heat and tingling and something that told her there was something more within her that needed to be satisfied. She didn’t know what it was until Garret put a knee in between her legs and her woman’s core, that delicate center covered with a dark fluff of curls, brushed up against his thigh. As highly stimulated as she was, it was enough pressure to send her first release thundering through her body.