Revealing A Marchioness's Heart (The Chronicles of Loyalty)

by Jessie Bennett

  She grinned. “Of course not. But I did. That’s why we are a great team. So, what do you say?”

  Nathan glanced to Jerrico, who grinned despite how pale he was. “Maybe we should listen to her. Because we’ve only listened to each other for the past few days and it’s been a mess.”

  “What do you say, Nathan?” she asked, unable to contain her grin.

  In response, he dropped to his knee. “Well, I’ll ask you to marry me,” he said.

  “And I’ll say yes,” she overlapped his voice, leaping from the bed and into his arms. “You thought this was going to be horrible, but it’s actually the answer to everything. Thank God, thank God for this.”

  Nathan hugged her tightly, closing his eyes. Without Loyalty, he never would have seen this light.

  At last, the peasant girl, the struggling soldier, the sick guard; they would be safe. All because they loyally served their king.

  All because their Loyalty was finally revealed.

  END OF BOOK 1

  PART TWO

  CAN TRUE LOVE SEE THROUGH THOSE SCARS?

  ____________________________________

  Ricardo

  &

  Nora

  ____________________________________

  “Of course you did,” Alexander replied, rolling his eyes. Heaven forbid that Ricardo the lady killer show up less than perfect looking.

  “I thought the Duchess of Salvore was the prettiest thing in the whole world,” Peter said and Ricardo shook his head.

  “Guarding the nobles instead of being among them,” she replied. “What about your duties to your lands?”

  “Keep a clear head, Nora,” he said. “Ricardo is a guard and you’re here to find a prince.”

  “A prince?” she laughed. “A prince? I’ll be lucky if I get a baron to look at me.”

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  The church bells rang somewhere outside his windows. He wasn’t sure whether it was five or six in the morning, because he jerked up in the middle of the tolling bells, echoing in his pounding skull.

  He was sweaty and disoriented, his mouth tasting of cotton and sawdust. Sitting up, he winced at his pounding skull, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light. It was always like this after such a night. There were images, memories flashing through his mind and he couldn’t make sense of them. Some of them were from the previous night, snippets, things that didn’t matter. Some of them were from years long past, things he longed to forget and yet clung to fervently. It didn’t matter what he did, how much he drank, his mind never worked with his heart.

  When relief didn’t come, he moved to the end of the bed, finding the bucket he had placed there for that very reason. Without hesitation, he took a deep breath and poured it over his head.

  Ice cold water electrified his veins, shocking his system. He wasn’t sober, not entirely, but he was awake and would have enough time to dress, perhaps even polish his sword before he was due in the parade square.

  Being a King’s Guard meant many things. They were the top in the country for marksmanship, archery, fencing and hand to hand combat. With green uniforms that were top quality, despite the battle scars they bore, they stood out in the unwashed masses as heroes, but also symbols of fear. With the responsibility of the crown on their shoulders, they took their duties seriously. Protecting the king was their first obligation, even at the expense of their own lives. They escorted him everywhere, as well as other members of nobility who were important to him. The royal family was never more than a few feet from a green uniform jacket. They worked tirelessly at investigating threats, solving mysteries, and moving mountains to protect that king from any harm that was growing. It was not a job for the faint hearted, and they came from all walks of life to do it. It didn’t matter who they were before--beggars, murderers, and thieves; when they entered the Guard, it was with a sense of honor and duty. Those who didn’t make that their top priority did not last long. A position in the guard meant they had already committed a gallant act, and it was their ticket away from whatever mud hut they might have left.

  The job was exhausting, but Alexander much preferred it to what he had left behind.

  When they weren’t on duty, they took their fun even more seriously. King’s Guards made the law, and they could often break it. The pubs and taverns knew them well, and some were known by name at the brothels. They were always broke, because of their lifestyle, and they didn’t care. Housing and food were provided by the palace by means of the barracks, and until they chose to leave and raise families, their money was their own to spend on whatever caught their fancy. It was a life allotted to very few. The nobles always had to keep up appearances, so they couldn’t spend every last penny acting like a fool in a brothel. The peasants could act like the king’s jester, but not with any sort of riches to their name. Being a King’s Guardsman was the perfect combination of nobility and anonymity. Most never left; addicted to the thrill until their dying breath came at last. There were few in the ranks that showed the signs of age, and those who did were showing it long before their time.

  Hung-over was a common state for the guards, but for Alexander, it was more common than not. He made sure it never affected his duty. His uniform was always perfect; his sword always polished. While his eyes may have shown the wear of the years and the pain of the night before, he was never late, never miss-stepped or caused a commotion. No one could say anything to a man who never gave them cause to complain, only concern. Nevertheless, whatever demons he chased away with the bottle every night were not anyone’s business except his own. He did his duty, he lived for his duty, and he hoped that one day he would die for his duty. Because without it, there was nothing left anymore for which to draw breath. It would be easy to put the pistol to his head and pull the trigger, but that would be relief, and he didn’t deserve relief. He didn’t deserve easy. Honor and duty were not part of those thoughts, and he tried to keep them to himself.

  Once dressed, Alexander took one swig from a warm bottle and ran a hand through his hair before heading out the door. As with many mornings before, his timing was in sync with Ricardo’s, who practically ran into him as he exited his barrack room across the hallway. Ricardo grinned, smoothly using his footwork to prevent his best friend from being smashed in the nose.

  “I didn’t think you were here,” Alexander said as they headed toward the parade square. “There was a redhead that you seemed quite familiar with last night.”

  Ricardo grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dawn sunlight. Unlike Alexander, Ricardo was a sunny person, always with a smile on his face and a joke in his heart. Even at this early hour, he was happy to talk, joke, or laugh. “You remember that, eh? I thought for sure that you and the whisky bottle were having a private conversation in the corner.” Ricardo was the first person Alexander met who seemed to know exactly when to ask questions and when to keep silent. When he had first joined the Guards, the others had invited him to many events, but he always declined. His solitude was his self imposed prison. Ricardo was different; easygoing and happy to ask again whenever there was a decline. He flowed with whatever happened throughout the day, never put out or annoyed. In addition, he didn’t mind if Alexander preferred to sit in a corner and drink himself into a stupor, for Ricardo needed no one to entertain him but himself.

  “I watch everything,” Alexander told him, managing a little smile. He often didn’t say a word unless he had to, but something about Ricardo seemed to bring all sorts of things tumbling out of people. Ricardo was the sort of person everyone immediately felt close to; he made people feel comfortable and at home. They would spill secrets without prompting, and relax from whatever stress invaded their minds. Alexander was sure that lots of people considered Ricardo their closest friend, and Ricardo let them. He told enough things about himself to let them feel that the feeling was mutual, and he listened with a golden ear to endless things they had to say. He seemed to have no personal space, no issues, and no secrets. He wa
s open and ready to learn anything new. Trying new things was his specialty, usually accompanied by a grin on his face. The only thing that he wasn’t good at was sitting in silence, which was Alexander’s preferred state.

  “I got back around five, enough time to clean up,” Ricardo supplied the missing part of the puzzle as they approached the parade square where they met every morning.

  “Of course you did,” Alexander replied, rolling his eyes. Heaven forbid that Ricardo the lady killer show up less than perfect looking. With a smooth smile, sparkling eyes and knowledge of literature and culture, Ricardo was extremely popular with the ladies. Noble ladies were his preference, and there was a different one nearly every night. He could make them feel like they were the only ones in the world, a trick he perhaps learned from his father. His father had been a merchant, had raised him alone, although not without a string of mistresses after his mother died. Ricardo claimed to be in love every week, and never said a serious word in his life. For all that, Alexander knew he was wiser than he let on to people. He was well read and intelligent, but he was lazy. If someone else could do the work, Ricardo was the first to fall back and watch, a lazy smile on his face. He was never in a hurry, never urgent about anything. He was so easygoing that Alexander wondered if he actually had opinions of his own at times, or whether those were well hidden in the folds of his brain.

  “You never know when the Queen’s ladies might be sweeping by,” Ricardo grinned, and then raised his hand and his voice to bellow practically across the parade square to Peter. Peter was a newer member of their group. He was between the two of them; sometimes rowdy and sometimes wanting privacy. Peter had come from the streets, with dark skin that suggested he had come from slavery. His usefulness lay in brute strength and easy pleasures. He had high highs and low lows, but Ricardo always knew how to keep him happy, as he did with most people. Peter smiled easily, and he was so excited at the idea of having money and a roof over his head that even the simplest pleasures were treasures to him. Alexander thought that he rounded them out professionally. For while he and Ricardo could fight in hand to hand combat, they didn’t quite possess the strength Peter did. No one did, for the man was a bear, especially beside Ricardo’s tall, lean frame. Alexander stood the shortest, stockier as age crept up on him, but with muscle to remind the townspeople of his position. He only had three or so years of age on the other two, but it sometimes felt like decades when the others were giggling over a dead mouse.

  “Commander is looking mighty productive,” Peter said as a greeting. “Just saw him sweep into his office with a stack of papers. Looks like assignments will be handed out this morning.”

  “Good, adventures,” Ricardo said with a grin, just as Alexander let out a slight groan. Some mornings, they were given guard duty, escort duty, or missions. Others, like the one he was hoping for today, they remained on call in the parade square or the barracks, awaiting missions and training. “Swashbuckling and riding, I hope.”

  “Morning,” Jerrico swung in, another of the guards, with a persistent smile on his face. Jerrico was a forever optimist who liked to see only the good things in life. “Did you hear what happened last night?”

  “No, but I bet it's good,” Ricardo said and walked over to Jerrico as the other man lowered his voice. The two of them were very similar in attitude, and they spent their time together cracking jokes and trying to make others smile.

  “Where did you end up last night?” Peter asked Alexander, with a grin. He had found a lady outside the bar and had left about midnight, quite pleased with himself. “Did you remember to bring back my stuff, by the way?”

  Alexander didn’t let on that he had only the fuzziest memory of Peter leaving his gloves at the table and asking Alexander to bring them home. One of the keys of drinking as much as he did was to never let on that it had any effects. Sticking one hand in his pocket, he, to his surprise and luck, pulled out the gloves and handed them over smoothly. “Is there inspection today?” he changed the subject so as not to reveal that he had no idea how he got back to the barracks.

  “Commander didn’t say anything,” Peter shrugged, slipping on the leather gloves that were part of their uniform. “But just in case. Already got dinged last month.”

  “I’m hungry,” said Ricardo vaguely, to fill the silence. He glanced over at the wooden breakfast table and saw that it was being arranged. “Gentlemen? Shall we?”

  He was about to move when Alexander grabbed his arm, nodding his head toward the wooden outdoor staircase. Their commander, Sutton, was making his way down the stairs. The rest of the guards began to form up in their square formation, which was expected when the Commander of the Guards appeared. Sutton was well loved by his men; a former guard himself. He put up with a lot from them, and they often got yelled at by him. Nevertheless, at the same time, he had a heart, and he tried to meet their needs and requests when he could. Whenever there was guard duty given out in groups, he always stuck Alexander, Ricardo and Peter together, so long as they could behave themselves. And most of the time, they could.

  “Good morning,” he said, his head down as he sorted through the papers in front of him. All guards could read and write to varying degrees. If they couldn’t when they arrived, they were taught how, along with all the other things that were necessary. It was one more leg up that they had over common soldiers, and they didn’t take it for granted. He looked up to inspect them, but just briefly. “Grievances? Complaints? Injuries?

  This time in the morning was when any injuries or issues would be at their freshest, still throbbing from whatever happened the night before. The men always showed up in the morning, even with raging hangovers, because not showing up was punishable by whipping. Sutton listened to even the complaints of vicious hangovers if they dared complain, and took it into account when assigning things. However, the guards were a unit, a team, and they rarely complained unless they were truly unable to do their duty.

  Today, Santiago, an older guard who was edging toward retirement with each day, stuck out his arm to Sutton as he passed by, revealing a bone that was likely broken.

  “Escorting the prince?” Sutton asked, remembering almost every detail of what he had ever said. “Alright, go to the physician and let me know the prognosis when you give a full report. Anyone else?”

  “I'm tired,” Jerrico raised his hand, causing Ricardo to smirk. “I had to clean up banana peels all night.”

  “What the....” the captain rolled his eyes, and simply put his hand to Jerrico's face, pushing him a bit as he walked by without another word. “Anyone else?” He was used to Jerrico's antics, and they were rewarded by not getting the best missions. However, Jerrico didn't mind, for his fun was often in town.

  No one else volunteered any complaints, so Sutton glanced back down at his paperwork. Ricardo briefly cast a glance at Alexander, noting his friends pale color and dead eyes. However, Alexander didn’t so much as glance at him and Ricardo knew better than to nudge him. For the five years he had been in the guards, Alexander had always drunk like a fish and turned up in the morning, so he wasn’t too concerned.

  “McShane, Timber,” he held up the first document. “The Crown Princess will be visiting the country estate this week, so you two need to pack,” he barked to the two seasoned guards up front.

  Ricardo grinned, shaking his head. “Lucky bastards,” he said. “The country estate and the Crown Princess, the two prettiest things in the whole world.”

  “I thought the Duchess of Salvore was the prettiest thing in the whole world,” Peter said and Ricardo shook his head.

  “That was last week,” he replied. “Keep up with the times, Peter.”

  Alexander looked behind him, where a mouse was scuttling across the ground and threatening to climb someone’s pant leg. It was slightly more entertaining and also less painful than listening to their conversation. Sutton made sure his men were properly briefed as he made his way down the line, so he had time to get lost in his own thoughts ag
ain. It was a perfect summer day, not turning out to be too hot. A slight breeze blew through the trees and the birds were chirping in the rapidly turning blue sky. It could be a good day, an easy day, and a relaxing day.

  Until Sutton got to them, and Alexander’s world turned upside down. “Ricardo, Alexander, your French is up to par, correct?”

  “Yes,” Ricardo grinned. “Are we dealing with a French noble lady then? They are always beautiful, that lovely accent.”

  “Not quite French,” Sutton said and Alexander felt a shiver go down his spine as Sutton pulled out the document. He tried to keep his face neutral and his commander continued to speak. “The Marchioness du Andres is coming to court for awhile, and you’re assigned to her guard detail. She should arrive by noon, our reports say. Alexander?”

  Sutton looked him straight in the eye, knowing exactly what he was assigning. He hated to do it, in a way, but these three were the best at personal guard detail, and the marchioness was important. He needed the best in protection.

  “Alexander, can you handle it?” he repeated and Alexander nodded.

  “Of course,” he said, his jaw clenched tight.

  2

  CHAPTER TWO

  Nora leaned against the carriage door, her eyelids drooping as the carriage rumbled the final few miles to the palace. It had been a long journey, one that she hadn’t made in five years. She had thought she remembered how long it was, but it seemed to get worse with age.

  Not that Nora was old. The only time she felt old was when everyone around her seemed to delight in reminding her that she was unmarried. Then she felt ancient.

  Nora had long dark hair that curled at the ends and pale skin that should have looked good together. However, her eyes were a bit too light, her lips thin, and instead of pretty, she just came off as plain looking. She was pretty enough, but nobility, especially nobility as rich as Nora, were supposed to be stunning. In a crowd of princesses, duchesses and ladies, the Marchioness du Andres somehow blended in with the servants.