Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Bravo, Summer,” Stephan said with quiet mirth. “I applaud a woman who refuses to misuse her power.”

  Summer’s smile broadened in response, casting a glance to her forlorn brother three seats away. Ian looked to his treacherous sister between the splayed fingers of the hand over his face, grimacing in reaction to her smirking expression.

  “You’ve doomed me, Summer,” he lamented as Lance patted him on the skull. “By tomorrow this time, I shall be only a memory.”

  As the other knights about the table agreed, Summer’s expression softened with mock pity toward her condemned brother.

  “But you are so strong and skilled, Ian,” she insisted with mock conviction. “You’ve told me so. And the only reason Sir B-Bose has managed to best you in the p-past is because he’s cheated. Isn’t that what you’ve said?”

  The throng hovering about the table groaned and chortled as Ian turned shades of red. Summer merely smiled, loving the attention and the fact that she was succeeding in humiliating her too-confident brother.

  “That’s not what I said. I… I told you that Sir Bose bested me because he is the most powerful knight in the entire realm.”

  The bid to avoid Bose’s wrath was met by cheers and drunken salutes; there was not one man about the table willing to disagree. The snickering laughter was directed at Ian, knowing the man was struggling to retain his hide.

  Through the laughter and revelry filling the smoky air, Stephan seemed somewhat removed from the dialogue as he watched his baby sister sample her first true taste of public life. Her smiles, her rosy cheeks, and her lack of concern for her imperfect speech struck a chord deep within him.

  Stephan and his brothers had shielded Summer for her own protection. And as Stephan lived and breathed, he knew his father had kept her isolated for very different reasons; Edward liked to pretend that he protected his daughter out of fatherly concern when, in fact, his eldest son knew full well that his father hid the youngest du Bonne sibling and her stuttering as one would conceal a disease.

  Glancing to his drunken father now and again, Stephan could not help but wonder why Edward had allowed Summer to mingle with the masses. Mayhap the man was past the point of caring any longer, a factor Stephan seemed to have a good deal of trouble accepting. Or mayhap Edward permitted his daughter to attend the feast with de Moray in the hopes that the man would become smitten enough to take the girl off his hands.

  Summer was indeed proving to be witty and beautiful, radiant and sweet. Her stutter was hardly evident and if the knights and ladies about the table noticed her occasional stammer, they certainly had not indicated as such. They were as enchanted with her as de Moray was and from the expression on Bose’s face, Stephan suspected that enchantment did not quite encompass all of the knight’s thoughts.

  “Do you see how Bose looks at Summer?” Genisa’s breath was suddenly hot on his ear, distracting him from his thoughts. As Stephan nodded faintly, his wife squeezed his arm encouragingly. “Your expression was the very same when we first met. I would wager to say that we are witnessing Summer’s future husband.”

  Stephan eyed the dark knight a moment, moving to drink from his chalice. “Time will tell, love.”

  Genisa grinned, kissing his ear hotly. “It took you one week to pledge for my hand. How long do you suppose it will take Sir Bose?”

  Stephan groaned softly, his male member already pulsing with life as his wife kissed him again. “God’s Blood, Genisa, not… here. Later.”

  She laughed softly. “Sir Bose’s expression has caused me to recollect the very first time we made love. In an alcove at my father’s manse. Do you remember?”

  Stephan groaned again, his palms beginning to sweat with the heat of desire. “Sir Bose’s expression has provoked your lust? I find the fact that another man has managed to arouse you most disturbing.”

  “Do not,” she breathed, suckling discreetly on his earlobe. “Be thankful. There is an alcove in the hallway near the kitchens, my darling. It is a perfect place for our passion.”

  Stephan did not reply for a moment, distracted from the thought of his sister’s blossoming popularity by Genisa’s desire. God’s Blood, the woman was never satisfied. But, then again, neither was he.

  Abruptly, he stood, thankful that his tunic concealed his arousal. Pulling Genisa to her feet, he mumbled his excuses to the table of guests and escorted his giggling wife from the table. Moving through the smelly hall, he directed her into a dark, seldom used corridor.

  The alcove was deep and narrow, nearly completely concealed by a large dusty tapestry. Pushing his wife into the shadowed nook, he absorbed her wicked laughter with his demanding mouth, drawing at her flesh until her moans of desire drowned away the devilish mirth. Hiking her skirts to her waist as she fumbled with his hose, he lifted her against the wall and braced her writhing body with his hips.

  With a soft shout of possession, Stephan filled his wife with the proof of his powerful passion. Thrust after mighty thrust, Genisa moved with him, her hands in his hair, her lips against his ear. She wondered fleetingly if Summer would ever feel the same power from mighty de Moray and suspecting that she soon would.

  *

  “Stephan drew Duncan Kerry in the fifth round,” Lance was growing drunker by the moment. “I hope Genisa’s lust doesn’t drain his strength.”

  Ian laughed softly, knowing the current activities of his brother and sister-in-law and struggling to suppress the familiar pain the knowledge evoked. Controlling his emotions for Genisa had grown easier with time, a necessity for the sake of his sanity, until he was able to quite easily subdue the dull, anguishing ache. Still, not a day went by that he did not wish for Genisa to be his. And not a day went by that he did not envy his brother his good fortune.

  But he refused to allow the familiar depression to envelope him at the thought of his brother bedding the woman that he himself was in love with. Instead, Ian found a good deal of distraction in the situation at hand and endeavored to focus on the conversation.

  “I am surprised the young Kerry lad was able to best Sir Adgar,” he said, shifting to gain a better look at the small, trim knight down the table. “A freakish occurrence that he managed to evade your shield.”

  Adgar leaned forward, his neatly groomed beard moving as he chewed. “Even more amazing that he managed to unseat me without trickery or unfair tactics. The lad caught me off-guard, pure and simple.”

  “Duncan is not like his brother,” Bose said quietly, his gaze still riveted to Summer. “Fortunately, the lad possesses an ounce of compassion and morality. His older brother would do well to learn from him.”

  Hand resting on her chin, Summer listened to the conversation regarding the Kerry brothers with lagging interest. The other knights about the table had turned back to their ladies and wine, a peppering of varied conversations traversing the length of the heavy table. As she focused on a particularly loud knight who had fought quite brutally in the melee, a servant respectfully approached and whispered in her ear. Immediately, she stood up, much to Bose’s concern.

  “Where do you go, my lady?” he was already on his feet, preparing to escort her.

  She smiled, patting his arm gently. “My father wishes to speak with me. Please sit and enjoy your wine,” when he appeared hesitant, her smile broadened and she put a reassuring hand against his chest. “He oft grows frantic when Stephan is absent. He merely wishes to know where my b-brother has gone.”

  Bose cocked a black eyebrow, not wanting to let her out of arm’s length. She patted his arm again in a comforting gesture, excusing herself from the table and moving toward her lounging father several feet away. Bose watched until she reached the portly, ruddy man before re-seating himself.

  “Good Lord, Bose, she is not going to run away,” Morgan mumbled from his left side, his voice muted as he took a long sip of wine. “You are acting as if she belongs to you.”

  Bose’s searing black gaze snapped to his long-time friend, his normally expr
essionless face hard. After a moment, he turned away and drained the contents of his chalice.

  “She does.”

  Morgan was not particularly surprised to hear his answer. “But you’ve yet to pledge for her.”

  “I will.”

  “When?”

  “When you stop asking me a plethora of foolish questions.”

  Morgan’s lips twitched with a threatening smile. Bose was never one to act on the spur of the moment, taking his time in concluding even the smallest decisions. This time, however, Morgan suspected time would not be on his liege’s side. Considering the lady and her beauty, it was evident from the expressions of the knights throughout the room that she had an entire army of secret admirers.

  “You’d better hurry,” he said quietly, watching as a serving woman refilled his goblet. “She shall not remain unclaimed much longer.”

  The veins on Bose’s temples throbbed. “You are correct in that assessment. Before the night is through, she will indeed be betrothed. To me.”

  Morgan looked to him then. “What of Margot?”

  Bose blinked slowly, his black eyes gazing into the smoky depths of the bustling hall. “What of her? She has no say in my affairs.”

  Morgan did not respond for a moment. They all knew of Margot’s attempts to control their liege through the memory of her dead daughter. And Bose knew it, too. Conceding the fact, however, was another matter. If the man wanted to pretend that the woman had no control over his life, then that was his business.

  “Nonetheless, I suspect this afternoon will only be a foretaste of her reaction to your second wife,” Morgan continued after a pause, catching a glimpse of the thin, vicious lady far down the table. “You cannot allow Summer to live her life at Ravendark absorbing the insults of a combative old shrew.”

  Bose sighed faintly. “Summer will come with me as I travel the circuit. She will never be out of my sight and she will certainly never be alone with Margot. You worry overmuch.”

  “And you are not being realistic. You cannot be with Summer every hour of the day, protecting her from Margot’s venom.”

  Bose scratched his chin, increasingly irritated with the conversation and the truth of Morgan’s reasoning. “Then mayhap I will send Margot to live in London. I’ll buy her a manse of her own where she can live comfortably away from my new wife and me.”

  “She has a manse in London, Bose. She hasn’t seen it in four years.”

  “Because it was where Lora was born and she cannot bear the memories. I’ll buy her another.”

  Morgan sighed, unwilling to further pursue that line of dialogue. He was so involved in his thoughts that he was barely aware when Farl nudged Bose from behind, growling something Morgan couldn’t quite hear. But it took less than a moment for Bose to bolt from his seat.

  Morgan looked to see what had the man up. Lingering beside Edward’s chair, a mere foot or so from a somewhat-wary Summer, was none other than the younger of the Kerry brothers, Duncan himself.

  *

  “’Tis just a dance, my lady, truly,” Duncan was saying earnestly. “One dance and I shall be forever grateful for your graciousness.”

  Summer gazed to the man with the red-gold hair, by far more handsome than his buck-toothed brother and infinitely more charming. But she was still reluctant to speak with him, unfamiliar as she was with his character, and impatiently waited for her father to send the knight along his way.

  Edward, however, seemed quite content to observe her interaction with the youngest Kerry sibling. Now that his daughter had established herself as the belle of the feast, it was apparent that he had been wrong to assume that Summer’s flawed speech would somehow jeopardize the du Bonne name. Edward was coming to see that perhaps there might be a bidding war for his daughter’s hand. He was pondering the prospect when de Moray suddenly appeared.

  “Be gone, maggot,” Bose snarled. “The lady is in my company this night.”

  Duncan visibly shrank. Although he knew this moment would come, still, he endeavored not to appear too intimidated by the hulking knight.

  “I meant no harm, my lord, truly,” he said. “As far as I have been told, the lady is not betrothed, nor spoken for, and I was merely attempting to solicit an innocent dance.”

  Bose glared at the young knight; although he was a genuinely likable lad as compared with his brother, the fact mattered naught. Duncan was attempting to vie for Summer’s attention and Bose was unwilling to tolerate the slightest advance from anyone.

  “She is my favored lady, Duncan,” Bose’s voice was considerably less harsh. “If anyone is to dance with her this night, it will be me. Though I fault you not for your interest, there are plenty of young women about to occupy your attention.”

  Duncan cleared his throat, a nervous gesture. Breck had sent his brother to solicit a dance from the lady, knowing his own attempt would be quickly thwarted. Duncan was well liked by his peers and Breck knew there would be little valid reason to spurn the man’s request for a single dance from Lady Summer.

  All Duncan had to do was bring the woman to the floor, whereupon Breck would interrupt their cozy clutch and continue the dance in his brother’s stead. It did not seem to matter that Bose had been the lady’s shadow for the duration of the feast; all that mattered was that somehow, someway, Breck was able to pull the lady away from her admirer. Duncan was afraid of what would happen to him if he wasn’t successful.

  “I… as I said, I merely wished to solicit a dance. And as for the lady being your favored….”

  “You may have your dance, young Kerry,” Edward’s slurred speech was faint but unmistakable. “Sir Bose is not pledged to my daughter by any means, nor has he petitioned for my blessing. Take your pleasure with her.”

  Summer and Bose looked to Edward with a good deal of shock and dismay.

  “Take his p-pleasure with me?” Summer repeated with disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”

  Edward eyed her, his veins flushed with the power of alcohol. “Just that. You wanted to sample the real world, Summer, and here it is before you. Sample all of it. With everyone who shows an interest. Find a man who will have you from the hordes of men leering at your beauty.”

  Bose reached out and grabbed her hand possessively, moving to return her to the table. It was all he could do to keep from blasting the callous, repulsive baron right between the eyes.

  “Come along, love,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “We shall enjoy the rest of the evening together.”

  “Sir Bose,” Edward’s tone was suddenly firm. Summer and Bose paused in their trek back to the table, turning to note that Edward had risen unsteadily to his feet. Beside him, Duncan appeared most uncomfortable as the tension filling the air gained strength. “Regardless of your interest in Summer, she is still my daughter and she will do as I say. If I demand she dance with a man of my approval, then she will. And you have no say in the matter.”

  Bose knew his words to be truth. God help him, he knew the man’s words to be correct and his stomach twisted at the thought of Summer dancing with another; even Duncan Kerry, as harmless as he was. He tore his hostile gaze away from Edward long enough to look into Summer’s fearful orbs, knowing that it was essential that he keep his manner calm.

  She appeared absolutely terrified and Bose knew if he showed any measure of rage, she would most likely collapse. Either that, or openly defy her father as she had earlier in the day, and Bose had no desire to see her ordered to the vault for another display of disobedience. Therefore, it was with great misgivings that he forced a smile and patted her hand gently.

  “Go and dance, love,” he said softly. “Show me how beautifully you can dance and we shall continue to dance all night, just you and I.”

  Summer’s eyes widened, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. Then her brows drew together with genuine puzzlement. “B-But… why do you agree? I do not want to dance with anyone but you.”

  He patted her cheek gently, looking to Duncan wi
th a fading smile. “One dance, Kerry. And not too close else you will sorely regret your interest this night,” practically thrusting Summer at Duncan, he turned to Edward. “I should like a word with you, my lord. Immediately.”

  As Duncan reached out to grasp Summer by the arm, Edward eyed Bose with disinterest. “Later, mayhap. At this moment, I’ll not have my wine spoiled with menial talk.”

  Duncan was attempting to pull Summer with him, but she dug her heels to the ground like a stubborn old mule. She was intensely interested in the conversation occurring between Bose and her father and had no intention of leaving at the moment.

  She suspected she knew why Bose was so determined to speak with her father; although Bose had never said a word regarding a betrothal, from the moment they had met up until the afternoon they had so recently spent locked within each other’s embrace, there had never been a doubt in her mind that she had found the man to spend the rest of her life with. From the expression on Bose’s face as he fixed on her father, she suspected he felt the same.

  Edward, however, seemed uninterested in Bose’s solicitation and repeatedly evaded the man’s polite requests with a myriad of weak excuses. Summer grew increasingly frustrated as her father seemed intent to ignore her potential husband, frowning at Duncan when he continued his weak attempts to pull her toward the center of the writhing hall. Just as the tugging between her and Duncan appeared to be on the increase, a large body suddenly materialized at Summer’s side.

  Ian’s face was grim, his focus on Bose and his drunken father. “Go with Duncan, love. I’ll… I’ll convince father to listen to your beau.”

  Summer’s expression washed with relief and thanks. “Oh, Ian, would you p-please? Father is being most unreasonable and….”

  “I know,” Ian patted her shoulder, giving her a slight push in Duncan’s direction. “Go and dance. I shall attempt to alter our father’s attitude.”

  Summer continued to gaze at her middle brother, a strong, somewhat calm and even tempered man with a vicious sense of humor. He would have been a stunning and astute eldest brother had Stephan never existed; nonetheless, Summer considered herself extremely lucky to have two such devoted siblings. Three, actually; Lance was rather perceptive and intelligent when he wasn’t wearing a pig mask.