Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Although she sobbed softly once or twice, she nonetheless endeavored to dry her eyes. “You n-never said y-you would b-b-be ki…k-killed. You n-never s-said….”

  He squeezed her tightly, silencing her stammering words. “But you knew it was entirely probable that I would be tried for the crime of abducting you, be it kidnap or robbery or thievery. But the fact that we have consummated our marriage will weigh heavily in our favor. If I am forced to answer to the charges and the magistrate rules in our favor, at the very worst I’ll be ordered to repay your dowry to Breck in compensation for the loss of his bride.”

  She sniffled pathetically. “B-But if you are found guilty, they’ll do what they do to all thieves. They’ll… t-t-they’ll execute you.”

  Bose did not reply, eyeing Breck as the man turned around and noticed that Summer had regained consciousness. When the pock-faced knight returned his attention to the road ahead, Bose endeavored to answer his wife’s fearful statement. “You knew this from the inception, love. With all that we have undertaken, you’ve always known the potential consequences. Why panic now?”

  “B-Because we weren’t captured before. And b-because I believed you would return us to Ravendark before Breck or my father could find us. I suppose I never truly believed we would be facing these circumstances.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Then I am sorry to have disappointed you,” his voice was husky. “I suppose I was a victim of my own confidence. I, too, believed we could make it to the safety of Ravendark and thereby elude capture. Yet with everything that could potentially befall us, I believed my marriage to you to far outweigh the repercussions of our actions. You were the only matter of import.”

  Tears and nausea forgotten, Summer turned to face him. Pale and damp-eyed, her expression was nonetheless gentle and warm. “You did not disappoint me,” she murmured, touching his scarred, rugged cheek. “You’ve exceeded my wildest dreams. But that does not prevent me from worrying over your fate.”

  He met her smile, kissing her gently. “We took a chance, love. ’Twould seem that Fortune did not favor us this day.”

  She kissed him again, feeling her throat constrict with emotion as her cheek rested against his stubbled flesh. But she fought the tide of sentiment, knowing he had asked her to be brave.

  “F-Fortune has been favoring us since the day of our introduction,” she whispered, her lips to his jaw. “Surely it will not disappoint us in our hour of need.”

  Bose did not reply and Summer lifted her eyes, studying his intent expression. His black eyes were focused in the distance, his features taut and unreadable. Curious and concerned, Summer turned in the direction of his focus and was mildly alarmed to see a rather large company of men bearing down on them. When she turned to question her husband as to the identity of the incoming riders, she was shocked to discover a smile upon his lips.

  “B-Bose?” she intoned questioningly. “Who is it?”

  He continued to stare at the approaching party, his smile broadening by the moment. When Summer prodded him gently, he tore his gaze away from the distant vision and gave her a saucy, hopeful wink.

  “It’s Fortune, I think.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Fortune? Make sense.”

  He nodded his head vaguely, his attention returned to the incoming tide of soldiers. “I have,” he said quietly. “You said Fortune has been with us since the moment of our introduction. And he has arrived once more.”

  “Who has?”

  Bose was silent a moment, feeling a good deal of relief in the cluster of recognizable soldiers and three very familiar knights.

  “Fortune and his brothers,” he said with satisfaction. “I believe, my love, that Stephan has arrived in time to escort us home.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  In spite of the fact that the day had dawned bright and clear, the mood of Chaldon was darker than the Devil himself. A sense of doom seemed to infiltrate man and beast alike.

  On the second floor of the mighty keep, the anxiety was palpable. Summer felt the pain, and had ever since she had watched her husband taken away to the vault like a common thief. It was a pain that scorched every aspect of her even as her brothers attempted to comfort her and as Genisa cradled her.

  Stephan had endeavored to prepare her for the extent of Breck’s case and the support of Bose’s mother-in-law to sustain his cause. The ride back to Chaldon, Summer and Bose had found themselves encircled by loyal du Bonne troops as the Kerry soldiers lingered about, suspicious and volatile, and none more suspicious and mistrustful than Breck himself. He was positive that Stephan and his brothers were preparing to steal his prisoners.

  But there was no jailbreak and as the fortress of Chaldon drew near, the tension began to mount and the moment the party entered the gates of the massive courtyard, Breck took control of his betrothed’s husband and ordered the man confined to the vault. It was a bad situation that grew worse when Summer dissolved into tears, clinging to Bose and refusing to release her hold. Breck had moved toward her, planning to disengage her himself until he was brutally halted by Ian. The biggest, most collected du Bonne brother practically strangled Breck before Lance and Stephan pulled him free. Breck then tried to retaliate and the situation grew out of control until the prisoner himself intervened.

  Sedate and composed as always, Bose gently removed himself from his weeping wife purely for the sake of calming the situation. With dignity befitting his character, he had allowed Breck to lead him to the vault.

  That had been the last Summer had seen of her husband. Edward had refused to allow her to visit him and Stephan had spent the entire night in deep, argumentative conference with his father and a triumphant Breck. A missive had been sent to Lord Bruce Eggardon the day before and a reply was expected shortly; therefore, there was nothing to do at the moment but wait.

  Disheveled and exhausted from her night of hysterics, Summer had ignored the morning meal brought to her room and the serving wench who had politely offered to bathe her. Still clad in the amber silk, her luscious hair was ratty and unkempt as she gazed over the brilliant green fields of Dorset, noting the remnants of the lodges and tournament field in the distance with disinterest.

  She was so consumed with her muddled thoughts that she failed to hear the knock at the chamber door. Genisa let herself in, slowly opening the panel to reveal her heartbroken sister-in-law. With a sigh of tremendous remorse, she quietly shut the door behind her.

  “Summer darling,” she said softly. “I have brought a fresh gown. I thought mayhap….”

  “Nay,” Summer’s voice was as dull as her heart. “No gown. No nothing.”

  Genisa laid the lovely peach-colored surcoat across a carved oaken chair, moving timidly toward the grieving woman. She had no idea what to say, the words that would come forth to ease Summer’s pain. Noting the hardened porridge upon the tray by the bed, she reached out to finger the uneaten loaf of bread.

  “Cook made the honey and currant bread just for you,” she said quietly. “She knows how much you love it. Why not try some, darling? Just a bit?”

  Summer continued to stare from the window. Only one thought seemed to overshadow all others.

  “Has Stephan seen him yet?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “F-Father refused to allow me to see him.”

  “Stephan has been with your father and Breck Kerry since last night,” Genisa replied, feeling so helpless to ease her sister-in-law’s ache. “Ian is with them, too, in support of Stephan. Lance spent the night with Bose in the vault, refusing to allow any of Breck’s men to see or speak with him. The tension and hatred surrounding the situation is brittle to say the least.”

  Summer turned away from the window then, her eyes somewhat brighter as Genisa’s information registered. “Lance spent the night with him?” she repeated, the first ray of hope since the previous night. “How sweet. Strange, he seemed to be the most reluctant toward my relationship with Bose. I s-suppose he’s changed his mind.”

  “The
y have all changed their minds, Summer,” Genisa noted that Summer seemed to be emerging from her dull state somewhat. “Come now, darling. Eat something and change your clothes, and we shall see if Stephan has obtained permission for you to visit Bose.”

  Summer’s brow furrowed stubbornly and she shook her head, her dark-circled eyes dull once again. “I d-do not want to. I am not hungry and….”

  “You do not want Bose to see you like this, do you?” Genisa pressed. “He’s not seen you since yesterday. Do you want him to see a dirty, unkempt wife still in the clothing she slept in?”

  Summer blinked in thought, a look of uncertainty creasing her features. As she moved woodenly away from the window and toward the massive posted bed, Antony emerged from his nest amongst the silken pillows and scampered into her comforting, soothing hands. Summer stared at the furry beast, stroking it as tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Oh, N-N-Nise,” she suddenly sobbed, collapsing on the bed. “H-He’s in the v-vault and it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have…!”

  Genisa sat beside her, drawing the weeping woman fiercely into her arms. “You did what you had to, Summer,” she whispered sincerely. “You did what I would have done, what any of us would have done. Do not blame yourself for following your heart.”

  Summer clung to her, sobbing as if her heart was breaking. “H-He’s put his life in jeopardy. How can I face l-life k-knowing that I have killed him?”

  “He’s not dead yet,” releasing the hysterical woman from her crushing embrace, she grasped Summer’s face gently but firmly. “Listen to me; you must trust that Stephan will not allow Bose’s execution. Certainly, he was a party to your abduction and he will not allow Bose to take the wrath alone. I know it is difficult, darling, but please have faith. You must be strong.”

  You must be strong. Bose had made the very same request of her yesterday and, already, she was severely disobeying him. In fact, since the very moment her husband had been led away to the vault, she had been the antithesis of strength. Certainly not the qualities Bose expected from his wife. He had pleaded for calm and faith, and she had ignored his request for the most part.

  Gazing into Genisa’s eyes, Summer suddenly felt foolish and ashamed. Her family was rallying to her cause and she was repaying them by displaying her shallow and self-centered character. The longer she gazed into her sister-in-law’s lovely face, the more powerful her embarrassment and sense of restitution became.

  “Oh, Genisa,” she whispered urgently. “I d-do have faith, truly. ’Tis simply that… this entire circumstance has me terribly unnerved. I never meant to convey my lack of belief in my brothers’ cause.”

  Genisa smiled her charming, toothy grin. “I know,” she said gently. “Stephan sent word to Ravendark this morn regarding Bose’s imprisonment. His knights, save Morgan, should be arriving shortly to support you in your hour of need.”

  Summer sniffled, wiping at her damp eyes. “W-Why isn’t Morgan coming?”

  Genisa’s smile faded somewhat. “He’s here at Chaldon, recovering from Breck’s beating. When you and Bose fled the keep, Breck arrested Morgan in the hope that the man would be able to tell him where Bose had taken you. Morgan, of course, knew nothing and was severely pounded until Stephan stopped the interrogation.”

  Summer’s face was pale with shock. “Good Lord,” she breathed. “W-Will he recover?”

  Genisa nodded faintly. “He’s already walking about, demanding to be allowed to join Bose in the vault. The only reason he did not come to you last night was because he and Stephan agreed you needed time alone.”

  Summer sighed faintly, sickened by the thought of Morgan’s unnecessary torture. “’T-Twas probably good that he did not attempt to comfort me. I would have embarrassed myself with uncontrollable hysteria.”

  Genisa snorted softly. “Nonetheless, you have many, many people to support and love you, darling. You must remember that.”

  “I do,” Summer said sincerely, wiping the last of the moisture from her eyes. Looking to the peach-colored surcoat strewn across the chair, she gestured toward the garment. “I-I do believe I shall take your advice. Help me to bathe and dress and we shall see if Stephan has been successful in gaining permission for me to see my husband.”

  “As you say, Lady de Moray,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

  The mood lifted as the two women procured water for bathing and began to arrange Summer’s toilette. As Lady de Moray was preparing to disrobe for her bath, the door to her chamber suddenly burped and rattled with a great commotion and the ladies yelped with surprise. But their shock was quickly quelled a moment later when the door swung open and a very familiar, very annoying face made a staggering appearance. The pig masks, minus one, had returned.

  “Aarrgh!” A pair of clawed hands scratched the air of the chamber menacingly.

  Summer sighed heavily, shaking her head as Lance made a not-too-entirely appropriate appearance. Hands on hips, she frowned at her youngest brother.

  “What are y-you doing?” she demanded.

  Lance growled again, coming closer as if to accost her. Summer lashed out a foot and caught him in the shin, turning his growls to howls. As he grabbed his leg and collapsed on the bed in agony, she stood over him threateningly.

  “T-There is no time for your foolishness, Lance,” she scolded, joined by Genisa’s disapproving support. “Why are you not with Bose?”

  Lance rubbed his bruised bone. “I was,” he groaned, his voice was muffled through the tanned leather. “I was with him all night, listening to his sickening tales of your wedding. For truth, I had to leave or become ill.”

  Summer pinched him and he yelped, holding his wounded arm as well as his assaulted leg. “God’s Blood, Summer, cease your abuse. Your husband is safe and sound with Morgan to keep him company.”

  Her furrowed brow seemed to relax somewhat. “Morgan took your place with him?”

  The pig mask nodded. “And I came to cheer you up. But it’s not cheer you need, I see, but a spanking.”

  Summer’s irritation with her brother fled; the man had spent all night in the vault with Bose, still, he was thinking of his sister in his childish attempts to ease her suffering. Truthfully, only Lance was capable of such foolish, tender gestures and she smiled, rubbing the flesh she had pinched.

  “I am sorry,” she murmured. “Was I terribly brutal?”

  “Terribly,” Lance pushed himself off the bed, continuing to massage his leg. “But I shall forgive you, considering the hell you have been through for the past few days.”

  Summer reached up, dislodging the pig mask so she could gaze into the eyes of her high-spirited brother. After a brief pause, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

  “T-Thank you, Lance,” she whispered. “For remaining with Bose in the vault. And for the pig mask. Both mean a great deal to me.”

  He grinned, pinching her chin lightly. “My pleasure, Lady de Moray,” it was as close as he could come to a truly affectionate response without risking embarrassment. Glancing at Genisa’s smiling face, he scratched his head wearily and moved for the door, his actions suddenly laced with fatigue.

  “I suppose I should grab a bit of sleep,” he mumbled, grasping the iron door latch. Casting a long glance at the two ladies, he gestured to the pig mask. “The next time I wear this, I shall not allow either of you to escape so easily.”

  Summer’s expression was quite serious. “And I’ll tell B-Bose if your threats are sincere. He shall protect me.”

  Genisa crossed her arms with equal resolve. “As Stephan will protect me. Your days of masking are over, Lance.”

  Although their threats dampened his enthusiasm substantially, the stubborn young lad in him refused to give in so easily. In spite of the circumstances clouding Chaldon, at this moment, the interaction between the youngest du Bonne brother and his two usual victims had never seemed more typical or more hopeful.

  “Never!” he laughed wickedly as he fled down the corridor.

 
Summer could not keep from smiling. He had come to cheer her up and he had accomplished his goal.

  *

  “I w-want to see my husband. You have no valid right to deny my request.”

  Seated before her father in the peach-colored surcoat, Summer was very controlled. Stephan, his face shadowed with a heavy carpet of stubble, stood slightly behind his sister in powerful support of her request and Ian, his blue eyes dulled with fatigue and lack of sleep, stood to her immediate left.

  “The man who married you is a prisoner, Summer,” Edward’s voice was weak, his face pale and his lips an odd shade of blue. “He is denied the right of visitors.”

  “Why? L-Lance was with him all night. Why cannot I see him?”

  Edward sighed, refusing to look at either Stephan or Ian as he squirmed restlessly in his chair. They’d been through this particular subject all night and Edward was coming to regret the very day he allowed Breck Kerry and Margot de Ville into his chambers. Since that moment, nothing had gone as planned.

  “Lance was protecting your… husband from possible assassination by loyalist extremes from both sides,” he replied weakly. “His presence was necessary.”

  Before Summer could reply, Ian cast his father a disbelieving look. “Lance spent the night with Bose to prevent Kerry’s men from abusing him. Summer’s husband has nothing to fear from the du Bonne soldiers.”

  “There is much tension and strife within the walls of Chaldon, not merely within the House of Kerry,” Margot’s voice was thin but firm. “Sir Bose is greatly at risk until his trial can be completed and justice is served.”

  Summer focused on the frail, bird-like woman seated slightly behind her father. Her golden eyes drew in the sight of the woman who had commenced four years ago with her sinister gossip in the hopes of destroying her grieving son-in-law. The longer Summer gazed upon the lady, the more her hatred for the woman grew.