Word of Honor (Knights of Honor Series Book 1)

by Alexa Aston

  Benedict dropped his dagger to the ground to rip off his own mail coif. Instead of casting it to the ground, he threw it at Geoffrey. The heavy mail hit Geoffrey square in the face. He stumbled back a few steps as Benedict bent and retrieved his dagger.

  In France, the combatants had been told they could use their poles and anything else on their bodies. They could kick, punch, or even bite their enemy if they came close enough. Nothing had been said about that at the start of today’s contest. Since no one stopped them, Geoffrey assumed Benedict’s action was allowable.

  Blood trickled from his nose. It had taken the brunt of the coif’s hit. He shook his head and charged full force toward Benedict, his sword steady in his hands. Geoffrey needed to take advantage of the knight’s bare head. Benedict blocked his first wave, but Geoffrey quickly raised his sword again and sliced downward, next to the soldier’s head. An ear came cleanly off, falling to the ground. Blood gushed from where the ear had sat only moments earlier.

  Benedict roared an obscenity and hurdled toward him. Geoffrey swiped his sword across the man’s chest. Benedict careened toward the ground. He hit it hard, rolling to his back. Geoffrey moved swiftly to press his advantage. As he came close, Benedict’s dagger shot out. He rammed it into Geoffrey’s calf.

  Geoffrey danced away, the dagger protruding from his leg. No pain came as a wave of energy soared through him. Jerking his own dagger from its sheath, he threw it with all his might. The knife landed in Benedict’s throat.

  Now blood poured from two places on the knight’s head and neck and dribbled from beneath the chain mail. Geoffrey yanked Benedict’s baselard from his own leg and steadily moved toward his enemy.

  Benedict pushed himself to his feet with the aid of his arming sword. The dagger remained in his throat as he staggered about. Geoffrey knew if Benedict removed it, the wound would prove instantly fatal. The knight had no way to staunch the heavy blood loss.

  With a final effort, his opponent charged at him as a mad boar stampeding through the forest, a guttural cry passing his lips. Geoffrey saw the swirling pageantry of colors that surrounded the field and heard no sound other than Benedict’s pounding feet as he approached. He tasted the blood that dripped from his nose and knew he had to end this contest. Now.

  Wielding his sword, his hand firm around the hilt, he planted his feet. Geoffrey saw in his enemy’s eyes that the knight knew defeat to be merely moments away. As he reached Geoffrey, Benedict closed his eyes.

  He never saw the arc of the sword coming.

  Epilogue

  Christmas—1371

  “Does Cook have the Yule dolls ready?” Geoffrey asked Tilda.

  “Aye, my lord. The little gingerbread people are ready for their heads to be ripped off and gobbled up.”

  “Father!”

  He turned and saw Ancel striding through the great hall. Now a lad of fourteen, he was nearly as tall as his father.

  Geoffrey embraced him, holding his boy tightly, but Ancel did not protest. They had made their peace long ago and now were as close as a father and son could be.

  “How is the Earl of Winterbourne treating you these days?” he asked.

  Ancel’s face lit up. “Very well, Father. He is pleased with me and has called me the best of squires.”

  Pride rushed through him.

  “Ancel!”

  Alys came running toward them. The twins hugged.

  “You look quite grown up, little sister.”

  Alys beamed at his compliment. She twirled in a circle. “Do you like this color on me?” she asked both of them.

  “You look as if you came straight from court,” Geoffrey teased. “Far too fancy for our paltry festivities at Kinwick.”

  She punched her father in the arm. “I did enjoy my time fostering at court,” she said. “Queen Philippa was a most marvelous woman. Elegant and refined, yet kind and wise. But cousin Avelyn helped me sew this cotehardie. She is quite the seamstress.”

  Merryn joined them, their youngest child in her arms. She passed two-year-old Nan to her sister and greeted her son with a kiss to each cheek.

  “I’m happy to have you home for Christmas. Did Hardie bring his family?”

  Ancel nodded. “Lord Hardwin and Lady Johamma are chasing their boys up and down the stairs to the keep. I should probably go help them. The imps actually follow me about like lost lambs.”

  “I’m sure they look upon you as an older sibling,” Merryn said. “I know you set a good example for them.”

  At that moment, Geoffrey noticed that Hardie entered the great hall, his four-year-old tucked under one arm as he chased after his six-year-old. Ancel grabbed the loose child and took the younger one off the earl’s hands.

  “Come,” he told the boys. “Let’s go look for my brothers.”

  “They’re upstairs in their bedchamber,” Geoffrey called after him.

  Hardie puffed out his cheeks as he let a long breath escape. “Those boys will be the death of me.”

  “And just think,” Geoffrey told him. “You’ll be taking on seven-year-old Hal after this holiday. You will certainly have your hands full with that one, Hardie.”

  “Hal leaving Kinwick is going to break his little brother’s heart,” Merryn added. “Mayhap you’d like to add another one to foster in your household?” she teased. “Edward is only five but already tall for his age.”

  Hardie laughed. “I doubt you’d let him come to me that early, Merryn. ’Twould only leave you with your two girls.”

  Geoffrey put an arm about his wife’s waist. “Ah, we can always work on adding to our fold.” He kissed her temple, inhaling her vanilla scent. He wished they could excuse themselves so he could bed her. Making love to this woman would never grow old.

  She caressed his cheek, a twinkle in her eye, as if she knew his very thoughts.

  “Enough of that, you two,” Johamma exclaimed as she joined their circle. “I would swear if a stranger met you, he’d insist you were newly wedded.”

  Merryn placed a hand upon his chest. “I cannot help it, Johamma. Geoffrey is the love of my life.” She beamed. “I do not care who knows.”

  “Greetings!” Hugh called out. He and Milla crossed the great hall, their two children looking about.

  “Alys, take your sister and cousins upstairs to play. We’ll call you when it’s time for the feast and games to begin.”

  Alys put Nan down and let the child toddle toward her older cousins before she led the group from the room.

  Geoffrey watched them leave, thinking how blessed he was to have five healthy children and good friends and family in their midst to celebrate the beginning of the Christmas season. He turned and spoke to Hugh and Milla as Tilda brought a tray of mulled wine for the adults to share. They adjourned to a trestle table and spoke of their children and news that had come their way from court.

  As Geoffrey basked in the warmth of the nearby fire and listened to the conversation, Merryn slipped her hand in his.

  Geoffrey gazed down at his wife—the woman whose image had kept him going during his years of battle in France and while imprisoned at Winterbourne. The one he had always loved from childhood. The one who would remain beautiful to him, even when her chestnut hair had turned gray and wrinkles from laughter lined her face.

  He bent and said in her ear, “We are most fortunate, my love. We were a love match from the first.”

  “And we will stay a love match until the grave and beyond,” Merryn replied, entwining her fingers through his.

  Geoffrey touched his mouth to hers for a lingering kiss. The taste of her mouth would always mean coming home.

  Coming home to love forever and always.

  The End

  About the Author

  As a child, Alexa Aston (who has also written under the pen name of Lauren Linwood) gathered her neighborhood friends together and made up stories for them to act out, her first venture into creating memorable characters. Following her passion for history and love of learning, sh
e became a teacher who began writing on the side to maintain her sanity in a sea of teenage hormones.

  Lauren’s historical novels focus on two of her favorite eras—medieval times and the American Old West. History is the backdrop that places her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire and yearning for one another grows into the treasured gift of love. She also writes romantic suspense, where modern heroes and heroines unite to defeat a strong antagonist and discover a deep, abiding love during their journey.

  Lauren, a native Texan, lives in a Dallas suburb with her family.