Love and Honor (Knights of Honor Book 7)

by Alexa Aston

  “We are delighted that all of our sons have served in the royal guard at one point,” Merryn said sweetly. “And I must thank you, your grace, for arranging for Edward and Rosalyne’s marriage. It was so thoughtful of you.”

  “I wanted to do what I could to help their love along,” the queen confided. “Being in love with my husband has made me sympathetic to the plight of others.”

  “I feel the same.”

  They continued on till they reached the king’s rooms, where her uncle, Benedict, joined them.

  He kissed her cheek and said, “You look none the worse for your terrible ordeal.”

  The group shuffled into the king’s rooms and was led to a chamber off to the left. The queen entered first and took a seat, while the rest of them stood and awaited her husband’s arrival.

  Richard swept into the room and went to kiss his wife’s cheek. Everyone bowed and curtseyed to him and then waited for him to speak.

  His eyes searched the room and stopped when he spied the de Montforts. “I am happy to see you at court, Lord Geoffrey. Lady Merryn. My grandfather was fond of you both and you know the affection I carry for your son, Ancel. He helped me grow from a boy into a man and I will forever remain in Sir Ancel’s debt.”

  “We are delighted to be in your presence, your majesty,” Lord Geoffrey said.

  Richard’s gaze then landed upon Edward. “I see my portrait awaits its unveiling.” He glanced to her. “Lady Rosalyne, will you do the honors?”

  “Of course, your highness.”

  Rosalyne threw back her shoulders and walked confidently to where her husband stood. Edward lowered the wood so that she could easily remove the cloth covering it. He winked at her and she refrained from allowing a nervous giggle to escape. Lifting the material away, she stepped aside and bravely turned toward the king to measure his reaction.

  His face remained blank as his eyes skimmed the painting, then a slow, satisfied smile lit his face. Rosalyne relaxed upon seeing it.

  King Richard crossed to her. “My lady, you have surpassed my expectations. You have painted me as I am—and as I wish to be. I see authority in my bearing but also humanity. There is truth in your art, Lady Rosalyne.”

  The king took her hand and pressed a kiss upon her knuckles, stunning her. Looking her squarely in the eye, he said, “I do not know how to justly compensate you for your work on my and the queen’s portraits.” He paused. “Because of your husband’s great service to me and now yours, as well, I say that you might ask me for anything, my lady, and I will give it to you.”

  Rosalyne tore her eyes from his and looked to Edward. He shook his head and shrugged.

  “If the happy couple does not know what to ask for, then I do, sire,” Benedict said.

  The king focused on the man who interrupted. “Bowyar, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, your majesty. Lord Benedict Bowyar.”

  “And what is your stake in this, Lord Benedict?” the king asked, interest evident in his eyes.

  “Sire, I am Lady Rosalyne’s uncle. Her other uncle, the non-painting one.”

  Everyone chuckled at his remark and he continued.

  “My older brother, Lawrence, inherited my father’s title and lands. Unfortunately, his life was cut short, as was that of his wife, Lara. They were Lady Rosalyne’s parents.”

  “I see,” the king said.

  “My wife and I were not blessed with children, your majesty. That makes Lady Rosalyne my closest blood relative. Instead of Shallowheart reverting back to the Crown upon my death, I would ask that it go to Lady Rosalyne and her husband, Sir Edward de Montfort, and that you would make Sir Edward the next Baron of Shallowheart.”

  His words stunned Rosalyne. She glanced to Edward and saw shock on his face, as well.

  “I won’t need time to mull over your offer, my lord,” the king said. “I reward good men who are friends to the Crown. Sir Edward de Montfort is certainly one of those men. Though I wish you a long and prosperous life, Lord Benedict, I would be happy to see your estate in the hands of Sir Edward. The title, too.”

  “You are most generous, your highness,” Edward said. “As is Lord Benedict. Lady Rosalyne and I are honored to serve you in any capacity.”

  “That may include another painting or two,” Richard quipped. “For when the queen and I have children. We spoke about it and when they come of age, it would greatly please us for Lady Rosalyne to return to court and paint their portraits.”

  “I would like nothing better than to paint your sons and daughters,” Rosalyne assured the monarch.

  “Now that we have settled that matter, we would be happy for all of you to join us in a celebratory meal,” the queen said.

  They filed into an adjoining room and spent the next several hours dining and telling stories. The king remained in high spirits throughout the meal.

  As others spoke around them, Edward took Rosalyne’s hand. “Your portrait has been deemed a success, Wife.” He smiled at her with unabashed affection.

  “And you will make an outstanding baron someday, Husband,” she said in return.

  Edward raised her hand to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss against it. “May all our dreams come true, my love.”

  Rosalyne smiled at the man who held her heart. “They already have.”

  Epilogue

  Canterbury—September, 1405

  Edward strolled through the bustling main thoroughfare of Canterbury, Rosalyne on his arm. They had not been back to the city since they had left it many years ago. Now, Rosalyne was two score and he would reach that age in another six months.

  He glanced down at the woman who had held his heart for so long. Though her blond locks still caught the sun, he spied a few gray hairs mingled within. Tiny laugh lines had been etched around the corners of her eyes but her figure was still trim—even after birthing four sons and two daughters.

  “It seems so odd to be back,” she remarked. “Everything seems vaguely familiar and yet it’s almost as if I have never been here before.”

  “Cities change,” Edward said. “People change. We have changed.”

  Rosalyne gave him a warm smile. “I don’t mind change. As long as I am with you.” She squeezed his arm affectionately.

  “I feel the same.”

  They stopped where they had once purchased a meat pie and decided to share one. The owner looked the same, as if no time had passed at all, but Edward realized it was the man’s son who served them because he caught sight of the father helping someone else.

  They returned to the street after they’d eaten. The cathedral loomed in the distance.

  “I am glad you wanted to return,” Rosalyne said.

  “I promised myself years ago that once Master Yevele completed the nave, I had to view his finished work. It was already impressive enough when half-completed.”

  “At least England has calmed enough for us to travel,” she remarked.

  The current state of affairs saddened him. Richard no longer held the throne. He had lost it shortly after Edward and Rosalyne left court, when the Lords Appellant took control. Though the king claimed his throne again a year later, he waited years before taking revenge on the aristocrats who had ousted him, exiling some and executing others.

  Then Richard’s first cousin and childhood playmate, son of the Duke of Lancaster, deposed the king and claimed the crown as King Henry the Fourth. The former king died in captivity soon after. Edward had heard the rumors that Henry starved Richard to death but, knowing the former king, Richard just as well might have starved himself since he no longer held any power.

  “Henry has had a rough go of being king,” Edward said, “what with Owain Glyndwr and the Percys in a constant state of rebellion against him.”

  “It would not surprise me if a new king asserts himself not too long from now.”

  Edward thought his wife might be right.

  They walked in silence after that until they reached the great cathedral. Pausing before it, Edward drank
in the building’s grandeur.

  “Shall we enter?” he asked and led Rosalyne inside.

  Henry Yevele’s new nave had taken a score and five years to complete but it was well worth the wait. Both the nave and transepts had been rebuilt. The perpendicular nave ran from the entrance all the way down the central aisle to the altar far ahead, with the transept crossing it, forming a true cross inside the cathedral. The old aisle walls had been torn down. Tall, slender pillars now supported the structure, with exceptionally high arches in their place.

  They walked the length of the cathedral and back, admiring the new stained glass windows that had been placed inside the church. A new choir screen stood at the east end of the nave.

  “The details are incredible,” Edward said, in awe of the structure.

  “It took a true master to create this vision and see it to fruition. As an artist, I can appreciate what it took to bring this to life.”

  “Shall we visit Trinity Chapel—and your triptych?” he suggested.

  They went to the chapel, still full of pilgrims who came to see where Thomas Becket had been martyred. Edward steered Rosalyne toward her panel, which remained near the shrine to the Black Prince. It saddened him that Richard, being so young, had never really known his father as the rest of England had. And poor Richard had never had any children of his own. His beloved Queen Anne had died childless. The king mourned her death and only married again for political reasons. His child bride, only seven years of age, became a widow soon after, ending the line the Black Prince came from.

  Edward allowed Rosalyne to study her work at length. He knew she viewed it with a critical eye yet he couldn’t help but remember the days in which she had created it. How he had helped her prepare the wood and sand it down and coat it with the sparkling gesso. Those were his earliest memories of their time together. They would go with him to his grave.

  “Are you ready to depart?” his wife finally asked.

  “Only if you are,” he replied.

  She nodded and he escorted her from the cathedral. As they took to the streets again, the September sun beat down upon them, heating his clothes to the point where they were hot to the touch.

  Much like the many nights of heat and passion that he had spent caressing the woman beside him.

  “You know you mean the world to me,” he murmured into her ear, sensing her shiver at his touch.

  “You are the world to me, Edward de Montfort,” Rosalyne told him. “You always have been and always will be. My love for you has grown stronger, day by day, as each year has passed.”

  Despite being in the midst of hundreds of people, Edward stopped and took Rosalyne into his arms and kissed her with all the passion and fire that had never died in the years of their marriage.

  Breaking the kiss, he smiled and told her, “I need your bare skin against mine, my sweet baroness. I plan to take you back to the inn and make love to you until we leave for Shallowheart tomorrow.”

  Rosalyne’s palm touched his cheek. “I am forever yours, Edward. Lead the way.”

  The End

  Please enjoy an excerpt from Word Of Honor.

  Prologue

  England—April, 1351

  Merryn Mantel spotted Geoffrey de Montfort as she and her father rode through the bailey of Kinwick Castle. Her heart began beating fiercely. She hadn’t seen Geoffrey since the Christmas season. He’d grown even taller and more handsome. At ten and six, he already possessed a warrior’s strong build.

  And this man was to be hers.

  Following her father, she guided her horse toward Geoffrey and his parents, who waited to greet them. Merryn had spent many hours at Kinwick throughout her childhood. The de Montforts were their closest neighbors and her father and Geoffrey’s had been friends since childhood. The two men’s wish to unite their families would occur today when the betrothal contracts were signed.

  Geoffrey smiled at her as she approached, his white teeth gleaming against his olive skin. They had been friends all of their lives, but during the last year Merryn had become aware of him in a different way. Every time she was in his presence, a dizzy feeling overtook her. Her pulse pounded rapidly. She wanted to dance with joy. Merryn knew she had fallen in love with Geoffrey.

  She believed he felt the same about her.

  Geoffrey helped her dismount. The feel of his strong fingers encircling her waist sent butterflies swarming in her belly.

  “It’s good to see you, Merryn.”

  “I’m happy to see you, Geoffrey. How is your training with Sir Lovel going?”

  “He tells me that I’m the best squire he’s ever had. Of course, I’m the only squire he’s ever had.” Geoffrey laughed.

  Merryn turned to greet his parents. “Good day to you, Lord Ferand, Lady Elia.” She curtseyed and kissed Elia’s cheek.

  “Are the contracts drawn up?” her father asked.

  “Everything has been prepared,” answered Lord Ferand. “Please, come inside the keep.”

  Geoffrey took Merryn’s hand for the first time. His warmth enveloped her, calming her nerves. She gave him a smile and he squeezed her hand in return.

  They followed their parents into the great hall. Her father had explained to her that the negotiations between their families had already been completed. Signing the contracts would signify the exchange of property between the two families and set the bride price. As the daughter of a baron, Merryn would improve her station since Geoffrey would become Earl of Kinwick one day. She would be his countess.

  Her father and Lord Ferand seated themselves. The contracts had been laid out on the table before them. She watched as Geoffrey’s father dipped a quill into ink and scrawled his name across the bottom of the page. Her father followed suit.

  The Kinwick priest, Father Dannet, awaited them. They would now exchange verba de future vows. Their promise to wed would be legally binding, as much as when they spoke their marriage vows to one another in the future.

  The priest turned to Geoffrey. “You may speak, my son.”

  Geoffrey’s fingers tightened on hers. He gazed down at her and said, “I pledge to all present my desire to marry this woman and I will maintain my promise according to God’s laws.”

  “Have you provided the bride price to her family and has it been accepted?” the priest asked.

  “Aye.”

  Father Dannet turned to the men seated. “And have you agreed upon compensation to be paid in the event the bride or groom dies before they are wed in holy matrimony?”

  “We have,” their fathers replied.

  The priest looked back to Merryn and Geoffrey. “Then you may take your vows.”

  They faced one another. Geoffrey took her free hand. She felt the strength and love that flowed from him into her.

  “I, Geoffrey de Montfort of Kinwick, will take you, Merryn Mantel, to wed. This is my solemn vow.”

  “And I, Merryn Mantel of Wellbury, will take you, Geoffrey de Montfort, to wed. This is my solemn vow.”

  Geoffrey bent and brushed his lips softly against hers in their first kiss. He pulled away and Merryn wished the kiss could have gone on longer.

  Her father rose and came toward them. He offered Geoffrey his hand and they shook to seal the bargain.

  “I look forward to the day when I will marry you,” the priest told them. He excused himself, leaving only the immediate family in the room.

  “Let us toast the happy couple,” Lord Ferand proclaimed.

  Wine had already been poured. Lady Elia distributed a cup to each of them.

  “We have joined our families,” her father said. “May Geoffrey and Merryn spend many happy years together and fill the halls of Kinwick with children.”

  As Merryn drank her wine, she looked forward to the day she would become Geoffrey’s wife.

  *

  Geoffrey led Merryn from the great hall. Their parents had gone to the solar to visit, but he wanted to spend time alone with his betrothed. He would be leaving this afternoon a
nd cherished the remaining time they would have together.

  As he took her hand again, it surprised him how right it felt when he entwined his fingers with hers. Merryn belonged to him now. Nothing could ever change that. He was fortunate that his betrothed was kind to everyone she met and enthusiastic in everything she did. Merryn would make an excellent countess.

  “Accompany me to the stables,” he said.

  “You’re already ordering me about?” Merryn’s sapphire blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “And to think the ink isn’t even dry on our betrothal contract.”

  “Since it’s a legally binding contract, we are as good as wed.”

  Except for the consummation. But that would be another few years. He still had time to sow his wild oats before making Merryn his in every way.

  “I read the contracts, Geoffrey.” He heard the exasperation in her voice.

  “Of course, you did. I would expect nothing less from you, Merryn.”

  “They said nothing about obeying.”

  He hid the smile that threatened to show itself. “I believe that will be a part of our actual vows on the day we wed. I suppose you still have a little bit of time before you become a slave to my every command.”

  In truth, he was delighted his wife-to-be could read, thanks to her indulgent father. Merryn’s intelligence and natural curiosity about the world around her had drawn him to her since they were children. Geoffrey knew he was blessed that theirs would be a love match, a rare exception to most noble marriages.

  Her mind only played a part in his attraction to this young woman, who already showed signs of becoming a great beauty. As the sunlight fell on her hair, it brought out burnished red highlights and turned the curls a rich shade of chestnut. One day, he would run his fingers through those long, silky locks. Geoffrey looked forward to the many nights they would spend in bed and the children that would result from their love play.

  They arrived at the stables. He led her inside, grateful that no stable hand was in sight.

  “Did you bring Mystery a treat?” Merryn asked.

  “Nay. My horse is already spoiled. I have a treat for you, instead.”