Marked By Honor (Knights of Honor Series Book 2)

by Alexa Aston

  She did as he asked, catching up with him. “You can walk beside me,” he said patiently. “Away from the horses. The reins are long enough that we can be in front of Fury and not cause you any discomfort.”

  They walked for several minutes, taking care where they trod, but the toe of her shoe hit a rock. Her foot slipped out from underneath her.

  Raynor dropped the reins and grabbed her by her elbows before she fell.

  She could have stared at his beautiful face forever as he steadied her.

  *

  “I am sorry for my clumsiness,” Beatrice said.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, my lady,” Raynor assured her. “It’s grown quite dark. Anyone—man or woman—could have stumbled easily. Why don’t you take hold of me in order to steady yourself?” He offered her the crook of his arm so she could slide her hand through it.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Beatrice shifted her lute to her left arm and then took his hand.

  Never had Raynor experienced such a jolt of excitement from a woman’s touch. He glanced down at their joined hands and thought how right it seemed. It surprised him. At the moment, Lady Beatrice was filthy and disheveled, her clothing singed and reeking from the smoke of the fire. Yet, his pulse quickened and his skin prickled as if the time to ride into battle neared.

  He pushed aside the odd feeling and bent to retrieve Fury’s reins. “Come, my lady.” Raynor squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll arrive at Ashcroft in no time.”

  They began walking hand-in-hand. Deliberately ignoring the feelings that churned within him, he decided to tell her something about where they journeyed.

  Anything to occupy his mind.

  “Ashcroft is my brother’s estate. It has a small keep when compared to most, with only forty families farming the land and tending to the livestock. Peter became the baron upon my father’s death, which happened just after my twin sisters wed, about eight years ago.”

  “You have a brother and twin sisters?” she marveled. “Oh, I always wished for siblings. Growing up without any was a true hardship.”

  Raynor laughed. “I was close to my brother since we are only a year apart. But my sisters? They were four years younger, always playing with dolls and talking about clothes. I love them dearly, as any brother would, but both are pretty girls with empty heads.”

  “My lord!” Beatrice chastised and he heard the indignation in her voice. “I feel I must stand up for these women. Surely, they must have more substance than you claim. Especially now,” she mused, “for they would be grown women, married and with children, I suppose.”

  “They are indeed. Both have two children each. I hate to disappoint you, my lady, but they remain women who talk about nothing but . . . womanly things.”

  She chuckled. “And what would you have them speak of?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He thought a moment. “What do you like to discuss? Or do?”

  She gave him a warm smile. “I enjoy my music.” She nodded at her lute. “I sing and play most every day. I even compose my own songs.”

  “Now that is far more interesting than talk of the colors to dye a cotehardie or what caul should be worn during the Easter season. Do you write lyrics about clothes or womanly chores?” he teased.

  This time she laughed aloud. “Nay. I write of the stories my grandfather told me. He could read in English and Latin. In fact, my name comes from Latin. Beatrice means she who brings happiness. My songs are about the exploits of Odysseus and Beowulf. Or sometimes I sing of things in nature, such as a lark’s song or a summer storm.”

  “I look forward to hearing you sing and play. Mayhap you would grace us with your songs during your brief stay at Ashcroft.”

  “I would be happy to do so, my lord. I can even sing for you now if you wish. It has always brought me comfort. I know it would help me forget my sorrow.”

  Beatrice began to hum softly, a sweet melody that echoed the wistful longing within him. As they continued down the road, she began to put words to her song. Raynor became entranced with her voice. It could fall low, as a hushed whisper, before it soared to clear heights.

  She continued to entertain him until they reached Ashcroft lands. He wished that they arrived in daylight so she could see the estate better. He was happy that she seemed to have forgotten about the horses that traipsed after them. Raynor determined that he would help her conquer her fear of them before they set out for Brookhaven. It was the least he could do to help her as she moved on to her new life in the north.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I thought you said Ashcroft was a small place.”

  Raynor studied the high gate as they approached. Neither it nor the keep seemed large to him. He and Geoffrey had fostered at Sir Lovel’s vast estate, spending their formative years there, and it was the largest he’d known. Kinwick, Geoffrey’s home, also was a huge property. Raynor supposed he judged Ashcroft against those places, but he had a fondness for Ashcroft because it was home.

  They approached the gate and he shouted up, “Gatekeeper. ’Tis I, Raynor Le Roux. Open at once!”

  No one answered him. The gate remained fastened. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “Gatekeeper! Are you there?” he called again. “Open up, I say!”

  He heard a faint scraping and then saw a face peering down at them, though he could not make out who sat guard.

  “Are things well at Ashcroft?” he demanded. “Let me in so that I may see for myself.”

  “Give me a minute, my lord,” a voice told him. Raynor believed the man had been asleep at his station. If so, a strong punishment would be in store for this lapse in duty.

  They waited in silence some minutes. His concern grew as he noticed no one patrolled the wall-walk above. Finally, the gate drew wide. The same man—no, a boy—had opened the gates, leaving his post above to do so.

  Raynor released Beatrice’s hand and marched toward the lad. “Why has a mere child been left to mind the gate? And where are the men that should have opened it to me, much less those who should patrol the wall-walk at night?”

  “I am Neal, my lord. You have been gone many months. Ashcroft has changed in that time.”

  “How so?”

  The boy shrugged. “You will have to talk to the steward about this.” His lip curled. “Or your brother. Not that we see hide nor hair of him these days.”

  Raynor’s gut clenched. He thought Gobert’s missive had exaggerated. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Close and lock the gates and get back to your post,” he ordered. “And Neal?” He waited till the boy looked him in the eye. “I’m sure I would never catch you sleeping while on duty.” His tone made it clear what would happen if he did.

  The boy dropped his head, as guilty as a small child who had been caught stealing sweets. “Aye, my lord.”

  Raynor waited till the gates were secured and Neal had scurried off.

  He turned to Beatrice, who wore a guarded expression. “We’ll walk the horses to the stables. They need to be rubbed down and fed.”

  She nodded, and Raynor took her hand. “It’s dark still and you are unfamiliar with Ashcroft,” he gave as an excuse to touch her again. As before, her hand in his seemed the most natural thing in the world.

  No one stirred as they cut through the outer and inner baileys. It did not surprise him since the hour grew late. They arrived at the stable and found another boy sleeping just inside the doors. Raynor woke him.

  “Where is Old Sam, our head groom?” he asked.

  “Gone,” the boy informed him.

  “Gone where?”

  “He be dead and gone.”

  Raynor was sorry to hear the news. Old Sam had passed along much of his knowledge regarding horses to Raynor. In turn, Raynor had done the same when he fostered with Sir Lovel, helping Michael Devereux, a chubby lad who feared horses. Raynor had spent hours with the frightened page, teaching him to understand the creatures and be a proficient rider. Old Sam would have b
een proud that his advice had helped Devereux to conquer his fears. The lessons regarding horses had changed the boy’s life. Raynor was happy to have been a part of Michael Devereux’s maturing and idly wondered where the young knight might be now.

  He turned his thoughts back to the present. “Who minds the stables now?”

  “My father and I. Old Sam was my grandfather.”

  “Ah, you are Brice then.”

  The boy frowned. “You know me?”

  “I know everyone at Ashcroft,” Raynor assured him. “Or at least those who remain.”

  Brice nodded eagerly. “Lots of soldiers left. Everyone talks how Master has let things fall into . . .” His voice trailed off as the boy realized who he was speaking to.

  “We’ll have a good talk tomorrow, Brice. For now, my horse, Fury, and the other need looking after. Are you up to the task?”

  “I suppose.” Brice looked unsure at this request.

  Raynor realized the child hadn’t the height to remove the saddle, much less reach high enough to curry the horses properly.

  “What if I help you this time? Caring for horses may be one of my favorite tasks in the world,” he told the lad.

  “Thank you!”

  He looked to Beatrice. “My lady, would you care to wait here? We shall be a few minutes, then I will escort you into the keep.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She stepped back a few paces, and he led the horses to two empty stalls opposite one another.

  Raynor loosened the restraints holding Tolly’s body to the horse and moved the dead servant to another vacant stall. He would need to discuss the man’s burial with their priest. He then instructed Brice in the basics, which the boy seemed to know from either Old Sam or his own father. Raynor promised to return tomorrow and work with Brice more closely.

  “I have high expectations when it comes to my horse. Fury deserves the best of care.”

  Brice promised to watch Fury carefully until Raynor came to the stables to give the lad another lesson. Raynor lifted his bundle of possessions that he’d placed in the corner and headed for the entrance.

  Beatrice waited in the same place he’d left her. Wordlessly, he captured her hand in his and led her toward the keep. They entered and paused in the great hall. Raynor looked across it, surprised to see that only about half of those who normally bedded down there were present.

  “Sir Raynor,” a voice called softly behind him.

  He turned to find Gobert approaching. The steward looked half a score older since Raynor had last seen him. He released Beatrice’s hand and strode toward him.

  “Thank the Christ you have returned, my lord,” Gobert said in a rush. “I have done my best trying to keep Ashcroft from falling into ruin.” He hesitated. “And I am afraid your brother might very well have gone mad.”

  Chapter Seven

  Beatrice stood in the shadows, alarmed by the man’s words.

  What on earth had she gotten into?

  She had attached herself to a complete stranger and come to his home without question, dazzled by his good looks and gallant ways. But what little she’d seen since their arrival concerned her. Though unfamiliar with how life in a castle unfolded, this place seemed be run shoddily. No one defended it. Only young boys were about. The stench of old rushes, rotting food, and piss coming from the great hall assaulted her nose.

  And now Raynor Le Roux had just been told that his own brother might be mad?

  Beatrice shuddered. Ashcroft was nothing like what Sir Raynor had told her. Yet, in the knight’s defense, he also seemed surprised by what they had come across since their arrival.

  “Mad?” Raynor hissed. “What are you talking about, Gobert? You said nothing of this in your message to me.”

  The rotund, balding man looked apologetic. “I’m sorry to keep it from you, my lord. But you have been gone for some time—and when you have returned these past few years, you’ve only stayed for brief periods.”

  Raynor glared down at the man. “So, you’re saying that I haven’t paid enough attention to circumstances on my quick sojourns home? You believe that I have been remiss in my duties?”

  “Nay, my lord.” The man took a step back. “It’s not your place to see to the running of Ashcroft. It is Lord Peter’s responsibility.” He swallowed. “Though I do fear for what goes through his mind these days.”

  Raynor’s balled his hands into fists. “Why do you think he has gone mad, Gobert?”

  Beatrice saw how the knight controlled his temper and hoped he could keep it reined in. Being a man of formidable size and strength, she didn’t want to see this servant take the brunt of his wrath.

  “Rarely anyone sees him, my lord. Lord Peter takes all his meals alone in the solar. Most of his days are consumed by kneeling in prayer, whether in his oratory or the chapel. He goes for weeks without speaking.” Gobert paused, looking uncomfortable. “And sometimes Lord Peter . . . he . . . takes off.”

  “Where? Where does he go?” Raynor demanded.

  Gobert shrugged. “We haven’t a clue, my lord. He’ll simply be gone come morning. No one sees him leave the castle grounds. Occasionally, he’s spotted when he emerges from the woods upon his return. I don’t know if he lives and sleeps there or what he does. We all fear for his safety when he’s gone. And with no one to tell the people what to do while he’s away?” He raised his palms and shook his head sadly. “Ashcroft suffers from the lack of strong leadership. That’s why I asked you to come home. You’re his flesh and blood, my lord, the one he would listen to above all others. Mayhap you can talk some sense into him.”

  Raynor’s mouth set in grim determination. “If I can’t, I’ll see that the people of Ashcroft receive the proper guidance, Gobert. As Peter’s brother, I should have done more. Much more. I let the needs of others distract me. I assure you this will not happen in the future.”

  Beatrice stepped forward. “I can help you with this endeavor, my lord.”

  Gobert’s eyes widened as he caught sight of her. “Who—”

  “This is Lady Beatrice Bordel, Gobert. My lady, this is Gobert, Ashcroft’s steward—and my friend,” Raynor added quietly. He looked back at the steward. “Lady Beatrice had a run-in with some highwaymen. I’ve brought her to Ashcroft and guaranteed her safety. As soon as I have set things right here, I plan to escort her north to join her betrothed’s family.”

  “Very good, my lord. Where . . . where would you have her stay?”

  “I think we can put her in my sisters’ former bedchamber. Does it still contain some of their old clothing?”

  Gobert thought a moment. “It should. But the room will be quite musty. It hasn’t been aired out since—”

  “That’s how I can assist you, my lord,” Beatrice interrupted. “You asked me earlier what I did with my time. Besides my music, I was in charge of our manor house. I can cook, sew, and clean. I’m afraid you don’t have any idea how to set things straight inside the keep, but I’m familiar with such woman’s work.”

  She took another step forward and placed a hand upon his forearm. “Please, let me be useful and help you so that you can concentrate on other matters. I’m not expected at Brookhaven for three months. I can help you right everything here. It’s a small way to repay you for the aid you’ve given me.”

  Beatrice watched him mull her offer over and saw when he decided to accept it.

  “Very well, my lady. It would be nice to have a woman’s touch handling affairs inside the keep.” He placed his hand atop hers and guided it to the crook of his arm. “I will escort you to the chamber where my sisters slept growing up. It can be the first place you start tomorrow. You should make yourself comfortable there before seeing to other things.”

  Raynor turned to Gobert. “We’ll speak in the morning after we break our fast. Mayhap we can encourage Peter to sit with us while we discuss the running of the estate.”

  Gobert grimaced. “I’m afraid he’s gone again, my lord. Vanished sometime yesterday, and he did not return
today.”

  Beneath her fingers, Beatrice felt Raynor’s muscles tighten at this news. “I’ll deal with everything, Gobert. I promise. I bid you a good night.”

  He turned away from the servant and guided her up a large stone staircase. A single sconce cast an inkling of light at the top of the stairs.

  “More should be lit,” he muttered as they walked down the hallway.

  “I’ll take an inventory, my lord. I can check to see what’s available and what’s needed. I’ll take stock of how many candles there are and if more should be made. I’ll investigate what the larder holds and what herbs are stored and replenish what they lack.”

  Raynor paused as they came to a doorway. “Your help will be immeasurable, my lady.” He frowned. “I regret that I have brought you into such circumstances. I am ashamed of how neglected Ashcroft is and the part I played in it sinking to such a low level.”

  “But you are not the baron,” she reminded him. “It wouldn’t have been your place to instruct an older, titled brother on how to run his estate.”

  A weariness settled over him, thick as a woolen blanket. “Nay. I should have been here. Peter lost his wife and son during childbirth and has mourned for them ever since. Our mother passed soon after that. I should have known what those blows meant to him. ’Twas my place to support him.”

  “He might not have let you,” she said gently. “But you are here now, willing to help Lord Peter in whatever tasks must be accomplished. I’m sure he’ll be most grateful for your help.”

  “We’ll see.” Raynor sighed. “I wish you good night, Lady Beatrice. Please make use of any clothing you find within. And I hope you won’t regret being brought to stay at Ashcroft for a time.”

  Before she could reassure him, Raynor bent and pressed a chaste kiss upon her brow. Beatrice stilled and gave him a trembling smile.

  “Thank you once more for rescuing me, my lord. I am thankful that you came along when you did. I will see you in the morning. Have you a chapel?”

  “Aye. If you will allow me, I’ll stop by your chamber and escort you to mass and breaking your fast. Good night, my lady,” he said softly before he continued down the darkened corridor.