Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “The smell of bread is coming from over there,” she told Juston. “I am sure we can find something there.”

  Juston turned his attention in the direction she was indicating. “Let us settle the wagons first, if you can wait that long,” he said. “It would be better to take them into the market than parade them all over town.”

  Emera agreed. Then, she climbed off the wagon with the driver helping her to drop to the ground. Gathering her skirts so they wouldn’t drag in the mud, she began to walk.

  “Follow me,” she said to Juston and to the drivers. “I will show you where to take the wagons.”

  They followed, like obedient boys following their mother. Juston reined his horse up behind her, close enough to provide a silent statement to any man foolish enough to look at her that he was her protection. Her long black hair was braided, draped over the shoulder of her rather worn-looking cloak, but to him, she walked and looked like a queen. He was quite sure that he wasn’t the only one who thought so, either, because she was attracting some attention from the curious males he passed. Juston made sure to narrow his eyes appropriately to any man who looked at her and then caught sight of him right behind her. Many a male went scurrying on his way.

  The market was a wide area with brokers lining the fringe of it, with even more brokers and farmers bunched up in the middle doing business with customers. Emera found the man in charge, one of the merchants in town who had graduated from selling his wares to coordinating the Saturday winter market and taking a cut from the merchants and other brokers who were there. He was given this appointment by the mayor of the town, who also took a cut of the money.

  The man in charge, named Ilsby, was pleasantly surprised to see Emera, whom he knew from doing business with her for the past two years. As Juston and the knights hung back with the wagons, Emera and Ilsby had a rather lively conversation and she kept pointing to the wagons, obviously explaining her needs. The conversation dragged on for a little while, causing boredom with some of the knights, but Juston wasn’t bored in the least. He was watching Emera as she spoke with the man in charge, noting every fluid movement of her lovely hands, every smile and every laugh. God’s Bones, she was an exquisite creature. The more he watched, the more enchanted he became.

  Finally, Emera finished her business and returned to Juston and his men. She pointed to the west side of the market where it seemed to be less crowded.

  “Ilsby has asked us to park the wagons over there,” she said. “He believes he already has buyers for the product, so this may go very quickly.”

  Juston emitted a whistle between his teeth, motioning the men to the area Emera had indicated when they all looked to him expectantly. Slowly, the party began to move and they positioned the wagons out of the path of travel, uncoupling the teams so they could be moved to an area with the other horses and rested. As some of the soldiers took the teams away to a large, bare-branched tree in the field beyond, Juston turned to Emera.

  “Now,” he said, “we can go to the bakers and get some food to break your fast.”

  Emera shook her head. “I must be here to negotiate with any potential buyers,” she said. “But you may take Tristan. He is very hungry.”

  Juston had no intention of going anywhere without her. He turned to the de Lohr brothers and to Erik. “Take Master Tristan and find food,” he said. “Gillem, go with them. I will remain here with Lady Emera. And do not be overlong; I am famished as well.”

  Christopher and David were already reining their horses for the main road beyond the market as Gillem followed. Not far behind was Erik, who directed his horse close to Tristan, still sitting on the wagon seat. Grabbing a skinny arm, he pulled the boy onto his horse and spurred the animal after the other knights.

  That left Gart and Juston and about fifteen men-at-arms to linger in the market, protecting the product and just generally being bored about it. A market was no place for fighting men. As Gart wandered away to inspect some of the other merchants around the market, Juston dismounted his charger and handed the horse over to a soldier to tend.

  “Do you do this often?” he asked Emera.

  She was rather giddy that everyone had departed, leaving her essentially alone with Juston. “Fairly often,” she said. “We sell produce at least three times a year but I am here as a buyer at least once a month.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Does Bowes not supply everything you need?”

  She shrugged. “For the most part. We have crops and we have a herd of sheep for food. We are self-sufficient for the most part except we lost our smithy last year and it has been difficult to replace him. We do not grow grain, either, so we must purchase that regularly, and although we have cows for milk and cheese, sometimes they do not produce enough, especially when the weather grows cold. Jessamyn and I have been saving money to purchase two more cows.”

  Juston listened, all the while thinking of Brey de la Roarke and his thievery. “De la Roarke had an entire room full of stolen goods and he could not supply you with money to purchase more cows?” he asked, incredulous. “That is an extraordinarily selfish man.”

  Emera knew that. “You may as well know that all of that treasure was not his and his alone,” she said. “I was not going to say anything, because it is purely speculation on my part, but I believe he gave some of the things he stole to allies of his. I do not know this for sure, but Brey would invite his friends and allies to feast, and men would leave with things that did not belong to them. I have been wondering….”

  “What?”

  She looked at him. “If these men will come to you and demand their due,” she said quietly. “Just because Brey is dead, that does not mean they should not demand from you what they demanded from him.”

  Juston had already heard of this tidy arrangement from the wounded soldier who used to serve with him, so this wasn’t any great shock to hear it from her. Furthermore, he wasn’t surprised Emera knew of the change of hands with de la Roarke’s stolen booty. She was a smart woman; it didn’t seem that she would be ignorant to anything like that.

  “Who are these allies?” he asked. “Do you know them?”

  Emera was thoughtful. “The commander of Cotherstone was one,” she said. “He came to Bowes quite frequently. Once, I saw him ride out in a very fine fortified carriage that Brey had brought home a few days before. There was blood inside of it and I saw them drag the body of a man out of it. I do not know what happened to the man, but Brey gave the carriage to the garrison commander.”

  Juston was coming to think that it was probably a good thing Christopher and David and Marcus hadn’t made contact with the garrison commander at Cotherstone when visiting the village those days ago. He had a suspicion the commander wouldn’t have been too happy to make their acquaintance since he was evidently thick as thieves with de la Roarke.

  “Well,” he said after a moment, “I should not worry. I am sure if any of these allies show up at Bowes, you will identify them for me so I know.”

  “I will, my lord.”

  “Will you do something for me?”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “When we are in private, like we are at this moment, you will call me Juston.”

  Emera looked at him in surprise. “I… I would be honored.”

  “May I call you Emera?”

  She stared at him a moment before a smile spread across her lips. “You may.”

  “Thank you.”

  They looked at each other a moment longer before she broke away, flushing with delight. Her heart was beating so forcefully against her ribs that she was positive he could hear it.

  “Emera?”

  “Aye, Juston?”

  He grinned at the sound of his name coming from her lips, but it wasn’t just any grin – it was one of satisfaction. He liked hearing her say his name. “Are you still thinking of leaving Bowes for the charity hospital?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged, unwilling to answer the question be
cause the answer would surely embarrass him. “’Tis only that you serve a vital function at Bowes,” he said. “It seems to me, in the short time I have been at Bowes, that you are the one who sees to the daily operations of the place. It is you who took charge of taking the turnips to market and you who have helped serve the men and work in the kitchens. I have not seen your sister at all.”

  What he said was true and Emera was well aware. “Jessamyn is still grieving the loss of her husband.”

  “Is she?”

  Emera nodded. Then, she shook her head. “Nay, she is not,” she said flatly. “That is a lie. Although she has not told me, I believe she hated him as I hated him. The man was a pig, in every sense of the word. I should personally like to thank the man who killed him because he did us a tremendous favor. Mayhap it is crude to say such a thing, but it is the truth. Was it one of your knights?”

  She sounded embittered, even angry. And based on everything she’d said about the man, he knew her bitterness to be genuine. “Nay,” he said softly. “It was not one of my knights.”

  She looked at him, then. “You never did tell me how Brey died,” she said. “Did he catch an arrow? Did one of your soldiers kill him?”

  Juston shook his head faintly. He was looking off across the market as he spoke. “After three weeks of battle, de la Roarke proposed that I should pit my best warrior against his best warrior,” he said. “As it so happens, I am my best warrior so I met de la Roarke in one-on-one combat. I won.”

  By this time, she was looking at him in astonishment. “It was you?”

  He looked at her, then. “Aye.”

  Emera wasn’t sure what more to say other than to express her gratitude. She had said she’d wanted to thank the man who had freed her from Brey’s tyranny. But in this case, she took it a step further simply because she wanted to. Without a word, she stood on her tiptoes and very gently deposited a kiss on Juston’s right cheek. It was his turn to look surprised, but all she did was smile.

  “Thank you,” she murmured sincerely. “You have my undying gratitude, always.”

  There was that word again – gratitude. Only this time, he didn’t grab her and try to kiss her so she could show him just how thankful she was. This time, she had kissed him, instead.

  It was the best kiss he’d ever had.

  God’s Bones, he was close to blushing. What an idiot he was! His eyes were riveted to Emera as she smiled shyly and looked away, resisting the urge to grab her as he’d done before. In spite of the fact that she’d kissed him, he knew she wouldn’t react well to him trying to assert himself on her. That’s just not the way Emera liked things. She was not to be pushed around, grabbed, or trifled with. Juston was starting to understand that now.

  “Emera?”

  “Aye, Juston?”

  “Do not go to the charity hospital.”

  She looked at him, over her shoulder. “Why not?”

  “Because I do not want you to. I cannot tell you any more than that.”

  Emera couldn’t help the smile now; her face was nearly split in two with it. She looked away from him, quickly, so he wouldn’t see how utterly delighted she was with his statement. If she’d had any doubt that the man was attracted to her, his simple statement had dashed it.

  “If you do not want me to go, then I will not.”

  “Good.”

  “What will you have me do if I remain at Bowes?”

  “Why… you shall be my chatelaine, of course. You are invaluable to me.”

  That didn’t sound quite as romantic as she’d hoped, but she was willing to accept it. If they kept going as they were going, perhaps she would mean more to him in the days and weeks and months to come. She’d told her sister that she’d never dreamed of running her own home and having her own children, but the advent of Juston de Royans had changed that opinion. Still, she couldn’t help but goad him a bit. Something in her feminine vanity demanded it.

  “So it would be like a business arrangement, would it?” she asked innocently. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

  “Like what?”

  That wasn’t the answer she had been looking for. In fact, he sounded rather puzzled as he’d asked it. He’d turned the situation around on her quickly and she was immediately embarrassed. Obviously, this had been a bad ideal. She’d jumped to conclusions.

  “I do not know,” she said. “That is why I asked. You do not have any… expectations of me?”

  It was a very leading question and Juston was feeling cornered. Certainly he had expectations of her, only he wasn’t so sure what those were. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be without her but, beyond that, his intentions were a little muddled. Confusion made him defensive.

  “My expectations are that you run Bowes efficiently,” he said. “Beyond that, I have no expectations.”

  Emera was crushed. He only had a business arrangement in mind, after all. That was worse than him chasing her around and trying to force himself on her as far as she was concerned. She had feelings for the man but if he wasn’t going to admit anything, then neither was she. Perhaps she’d been wrong all along about his attraction to her. Perhaps it was all in her mind. Feeling increasingly embarrassed and upset, Emera simply nodded her head.

  “It is good to know where I stand,” she said, realizing she was verging on tears. “Please… please excuse me for a moment.”

  She dashed off before he could say anything, squeezing back between the wagons and disappearing through the merchants that had taken up position behind them. She thought she might have heard Juston shout her name but she didn’t stop. She kept going, pushing through the marketplace before emerging on the other side. Then, she began to run.

  Foolish, ridiculous emotions swelled up within her. She was feeling despondent when she should not be feeling so, aching for something she’d foolishly placed some hopes in. It wasn’t Juston who had expectations but her, silly expectations of a woman who had never been attracted to a man in her life. She had no idea how to deal with those feelings. It pained her greatly to think that the only tender contact she’d ever have with the man had happened the night before. Now, all of that was dashed.

  Racing down an alley, she emerged onto a main street and continued across it, knowing that behind the houses and shops lining the street were an open field and a stream. Perhaps she needed to sit calmly for a few minutes to regain her composure. She was feeling so utterly foolish at the moment, uncharacteristic of her, that she simply needed some time alone to gather herself.

  Heart pumping, tears blinding her, she squeezed between the homes and entered the dead-grass field. There was a line of frozen trees cutting through it and Emera knew that was where the stream was. Skirts hiked up against the mud and dead grass, she scurried across the field and into the shielding canopy. Once she reached the trees, she felt as if she was hidden for the moment, as if she now had some privacy to make a fool of herself.

  It was icy cold amongst the frozen trees and the creek had partially frozen over as well. Beneath a thin layer of ice, she could see the water flowing. Away from the bustle of the marketplace, it was peaceful. Emera wallowed in self-pity for a few moments without an audience. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. How could she have been so foolish to think there was any potential between her and Juston? He was a powerful knight, the High Sheriff of Yorkshire, so naturally he could command a very wealthy and refined bride. She was neither of those things, barely more than a servant herself.

  He wanted her to stay at Bowes and become his chatelaine without any further commitment than that. It was a fine offer, in fact. She had to look at it that way. It would ensure she had a position of importance and guarantee a roof over her head in the years to come. Perhaps it was better than scraping by an existence at the charity hospital. Perhaps she simply needed to be grateful for what he was willing to provide and forget about what he wasn’t willing to provide.

  “What did I say?”
<
br />   It was Juston. He had followed her as she’d fled the market and was now standing behind her, beneath the canopy of frozen branches. Emera gasped with fright when she heard his voice, turning to see him as he entered the thicket. She wished he would go away but, then again, she was glad he’d come. She was so confused she didn’t know what she was feeling. She backed away from him as he came close.

  “N-nothing,” she tried to assure him but she didn’t do a very good job. “You did not say anything. I… I simply needed a moment to myself. Sometimes women need moments to themselves.”

  The fallen twigs snapped under his big boots as he came closer still. “I know,” he said. “I was married once. She would chase me away constantly for things I said or things I did not say, so I know what it means when a woman wants a moment of privacy. I will, therefore, ask again – what did I say that made you run off?”

  Emera was near tears again. She wished he hadn’t asked that question. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. “It is of no matter,” she said quietly. “I am a foolish woman and fits of confusion simply go along with that particular personality trait. I am grateful you have asked me to be the chatelaine of Bowes and I will conduct my duties to the best of my abilities. You can depend on me.”

  “I know I can,” he said, coming to a halt. He looked down at her as she stared at the stream. He couldn’t help but notice she wouldn’t look at him. “Emera, I am a bright man. I understand that I said something to upset you. What I am not is a man of tact, so I will come to the point. You ran off when you asked me if I had any future expectations of you. I cannot tell you if I do or not. I have only known you a few days at most, so to have expectations at this point would be foolish and premature. Do you not think so?”