Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She looked up at him. “A small price for your father’s health.”

  Graden nodded in agreement. “Is there anything else you require?”

  She smiled and Graden felt a quickening in his heart; he didn’t know if it was dread or excitement. “I have the other ingredients here.” She tilted her head. “There is one more thing. We haven’t discussed payment.”

  Payment. Graden should have thought of payment. “I have a horse…”

  “You mean the horse that ran off in the storm?”

  Graden scowled. Her hearing must be better than her sight. “I can give you coin.”

  “I have no need of coin.”

  He had armor and a sword. But what would she need those for? “What do you want?”

  “There is only one thing I desire as payment for such a remedy.”

  Graden stiffened. He knew it was going to be his soul. He knew she would demand that as payment. He stiffened, ready to agree. He would give anything to have his father well again. “What do you want?”

  “The blue rose.”

  A Knight Amid Thorns

  Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter One

  Fifteen years later

  England

  1417

  Eleanor Rames knelt before the tombstone etched with the words Edwin Rames. She pulled weeds from around the base of the tombstone, yanking them with enough steady force to tug the roots from the ground. She sat back and stared at the name carved into the stone. Edwin. She could barely remember what he looked like anymore and that made her guilt worse. He had died five years ago. Edwin was her older, rambunctious brother. Born only a year apart, they had been inseparable. She remembered his vibrant energy, his charismatic charm. She would never forget him, she vowed.

  Her gaze moved to the white rose that bloomed beside his name. The white flower was the first to bloom on the bush. She couldn’t help the disappointment that spread through her. It wasn’t a blue rose. Her mother had always told her that a blue rose was magical and the most wondrous sight. Her mother had spoken endlessly about the power of the blue rose. That was why Ella had planted the rose bush beside Edwin’s grave. She had hoped the rose that bloomed on the bush would be blue in honor of Edwin, had hoped her happy memory of him had seeped into the soil when she had planted the bush, had hoped that her sisterly love for him would give rise to the legendary power of the blue rose.

  Sighing, she stood up and brushed the dirt from her skirt. She saw a brown cloaked monk standing in the doorway of the chapel, watching her. She greeted Father Barnaby with a nod. Five years ago, even Father Barnaby had not been able to console her. He had said time would heal her grief, and while the pain had diminished, the wound was far from healed. Edwin had been so young, only fourteen summers. There had been a time when she couldn’t even talk about Edwin. He existed quietly in her memories. Lately, she found it eased her pain to speak of him. She enjoyed listening to the stories of others. Somehow, it kept him alive. She wished her older brother, Miles, was there to share stories and add his own. But he had left to fight the war with the French three years ago.

  Father Barnaby intercepted her as she walked toward Castle Rames. He had a round stomach and a full head of dark hair. A cross swayed from a rope around his neck. “How are you this morn, Ella?”

  Ella continued walking. “Well, Father. And you?”

  He nodded. “This is the first summer the rose bush is blooming.”

  Ella nodded. “I thought maybe they would be a different color.”

  “It is beautiful,” Father Barnaby said kindly. “I’m glad you planted it, as I am sure Edwin would have been.”

  “I hope it grows thorns so long and sharp that I could poke Dumount’s eyes out with them,” Ella said.

  “Ella,” Father Barnaby said and stepped before her, halting her. “You must let this hatred go. It is not good for you.”

  Hatred was too soft of a word for what she felt. Ella clenched her teeth and her fingers curled into fists. “Dumount is a cad and a murderer. He should have been locked up for what he did to Edwin!”

  “Ella,” Father Barnaby pleaded. “It was an accident.”

  “Edwin was fourteen summers! He was just a boy! How could a grown man have gotten into a fight with a boy!”

  “I spoke with Dumount. He meant no harm.”

  “Meant no harm?! He killed Edwin!”

  Father Barnaby sighed. “I understand your anger. I know how difficult this must be for you.”

  Ella lifted her chin and turned away from him. “Hating Dumount is not difficult at all. Lord forbid I should ever run into him.” Ella caught sight of Maria, a servant girl from the castle, running toward them. She held her skirts up high and was racing as fast as she could.

  Ella hurried to intercept Maria. Something must be wrong. Tingles peppered the nape of her neck. “What is it?”

  “My lady!” Maria gasped, her breath coming in ragged gasps between her words. She pointed back at the castle.

  “Take a breath, Maria, and then tell me.”

  The girl took a breath and the words tumbled from her mouth. “Lord Miles has returned.”

  Joy blossomed in Ella’s chest. She glanced back at the castle and jerked to run toward it.

  Maria grabbed her wrist.

  Ella looked back at her, confused.

  Maria took another breath. “Lord Dumount is with him.”

  Her eyes widened. The words struck her like a slap, stunning her into immobility. Dumount was with him? What was he doing with her brother?

  “Ella, be kind,” Father Barnaby said, moving to her side. “Forgiveness is one of the greatest rewards from our Father.”

  Ella whirled on him. “You knew,” she said softly, and then with more conviction. “You knew Miles was returning and Dumount was with him.”

  Father Barnaby sighed. “I received a missive from your brother a week ago.” He nodded. “I knew.”

  Furious, Ella could only stare at the plump priest. She felt a stab of betrayal before a tidal wave of rage crashed down over her shoulders. Dumount. In her home?! She whirled and stormed toward the castle. She couldn’t run. She could only walk. Her entire body was filled with an anger that clenched every one of her muscles. Her fists were tight. How dare he enter her home? Edwin’s home!

  Ella moved beneath the raised portcullis, ignoring the sharp metal poised above her head. She walked into the outer ward to see a long line of horses. Soldiers dismounted and lingered in the courtyard. Many greeted her with a bow, but she was so furious she could not return the greeting. Her gaze swept over them, searching. But she didn’t see her brother or the murderer.

  She moved into the inner ward, ignoring quizzical stares from the merchants and villagers who happened to be there to welcome her brother. She entered the keep and marched through the halls of the castle, unaware of Maria, the servant girl, trailing her. How dare he set foot inside?

  Servants cringed out of the way, a knight bowed slightly.

  She paid none of them attention. Single minded, she entered the open double doors of the Great Hall to hear laughter echoing across the expanse. She scanned the room to see two men lounging near the hearth and the warm fire. She recognized Miles immediately and her gaze slid from her brother to the man standing beside him. Silhouetted against the fires in the hearth, he stood taller than Miles and broader of shoulder. His dark hair hung to his shoulders.

  She marched across the Great Hall, her feet crunching through the rushes. Graden Dumount turned to her as she approached, a grin slowly fading from his lips. She struck his face, the slap reverberating through the Hall.

  Silence fell over the room.

  “Ella!” Miles erupted from beside her and immediately took up a protective spot beside Graden.

  “How dare you come here? How dare you enter this castle?” she demanded, her voice echoing from wall to wall.

  “Ella,” Miles stated in a firm warning.

  Even her brother could not dissipate th
e rage burning through her veins. “He is not welcome in this castle.”

  Graden nodded to Miles. “It’s alright. I’ll camp outside the walls of the castle.” He looked at her again. “My apologies, m’lady.”

  “No,” Miles said firmly, placing a hand on Graden’s chest to stop him.

  Ella’s mouth opened in shock. Miles was taking Dumount’s side? Allowing him to enter their home?!

  “Graden will remain in the castle as a guest,” Miles proclaimed loudly.

  Ella felt as though a dagger had been plunged into her heart and twisted. How could Miles allow him into Edwin’s home? Hurt, furious, she whirled to storm away. Miles caught her arm and walked with her.

  She tried to pull her arm from his hold, but he held her tightly. Did he think he could just return and take over control of the castle, invite Edwin’s killer inside? What was he thinking?

  Miles led her into the corridor outside of the Great Hall and turned to face her. His lips were turned down in displeasure, his brown eyes snapping with warning. “Graden is welcome inside Castle Rames.”

  “He most certainly is not,” Ella whispered harshly. She had never backed down from a fight with Miles and this matter was too important to do so now. “Not after what he did to Edwin. How can you not remember?”

  “Of course I remember. How could I forget?”

  “Then how can you welcome him here? This is Edwin’s home.”

  “It’s my home, too.”

  “It is disrespectful to our brother, to his memory. How can you excuse what Dumount did so easily?”

  “So easily?” Miles repeated in shock, his eyebrows raising. Then, his gaze softened. “Do you know me so little?” Ella opened her mouth to respond, but Miles continued, “I didn’t excuse it. Not for a long time. I felt the same way you do. I would have run him through on sight. But then I found out he would be fighting the French with me. Fighting beside me. That I would have to depend on him to watch my back.” Miles shook his head, his lips quirked in tainted remembrance.

  Ella placed a hand on her hip. “And you didn’t run him through then?”

  Miles grinned. “I never expected him to join the army, let alone our army.” He chuckled softly. “We put him through a lot in the beginning. Played cruel pranks on him.”

  “Good,” Ella grumbled.

  Miles’s grin slipped a notch. “He never reciprocated. He just…” Miles shrugged. “Let us do it. And some pranks were downright…horrible.”

  “He killed Edwin. He deserves much worse than pranks. He deserves to be in the ground in Edwin’s place,” Ella snapped.

  “You don’t have to tell me. And just because he let us play pranks on him, didn’t make up for what he did.”

  Ella nodded in satisfaction. That was the brother she knew.

  Miles’s eyes grew distant in memory. “But it says a lot about his character. Much more than I could see at the time.”

  She crossed her arms stubbornly. “That he likes pain?”

  Miles chuckled softly. “Well, that, possibly. It wasn’t until the battle of Agincourt that I truly understood his character. The fighting was intense. We were overwhelmed, two to one. I was holding off ten of those bastard French. They surrounded me, knocked me to the ground. The next thing I knew, Graden was there. Fighting like a mad man. I joined him, back to back.” He shook his head. “I would have been dead if it weren’t for him.”

  “He saved your life?” Ella asked, shocked.

  Miles nodded. “Aye.”

  Miles would not be here if it weren’t for Dumount. Ella didn’t like that. Not one bit. She scowled. “One brother for another?”

  Miles glared at her. “He saved my life. My life. I owe him everything. What is mine is his.”

  Ella stared at Miles. She remembered the boy who had left to fight the war with King Henry. He had come back a man. A man indebted to a killer. She could understand his thinking, but was far from satisfied with his answer. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s such an archaic thought.”

  “Ella! I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him! Surely you can understand that. We’re friends now.”

  Ella grumbled. “That I don’t understand.” But she did understand how he felt. And she didn’t like it. Dumount had saved one brother and killed the other. She felt a prickling along the nape of her neck and glanced into the Great Hall only to find Graden’s blue eyes locked on her. She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. She would never be friends with Dumount. Never. She couldn’t forgive him for killing Edwin. Her jaw clenched tighter.

  She whirled back to Miles. He wore a pleading gaze, those large brown eyes imploring. This was not the homecoming she had anticipated. She wanted to be happy at seeing Miles, her only remaining kin, return safely. But there was no happiness with Edwin’s killer in her home. She bowed her head. “So, you have a new friend. Have you ever asked him about Edwin?”

  “What is there to ask?”

  She was horrified at his answer. “Ask him why he did it? Why he fought with a boy?”

  “It was an accident, El. There’s nothing more to ask and nothing to discover.” He raised himself up to his full height and stared her in the eye. “I want you to give him a chance. I want you to attempt to become friends with him.”

  “Never,” she hissed. “Edwin deserves better than that.”

  “Edwin is gone. And Graden is here. Ella–” He reached for her hand.

  She pulled her hand away from his touch. “Don’t ask that of me, Miles. Don’t. I would do anything for you. But not that.”

  “I have given him permission to stay in the castle. You will run into him.”

  “He’ll be lucky he doesn’t run into my dagger.”

  Miles chuckled. “You haven’t changed. Remember the time when we were young that you found the baker’s son…what was his name?”

  Ella looked down with a sigh. “Ned.”

  “Ah yes. Ned! …grabbing that little dog by the scruff of its neck and spinning it around?” Ella nodded and Miles continued, “I’ll never forget how you raced after him and grabbed his ear, pulling it until he screamed. Remember?”

  Ella scowled. “He was hurting that little dog.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “The dog?”

  Miles nodded.

  “He wanders the castle. He’s getting old.”

  “What did you name it?” Miles put a finger on his chin in thought.

  Ella winced. Miles had made fun of her for weeks after. “You know.” Miles’s grin grew. Ella rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Hero.”

  Miles nodded. “He was quite the hero, running from everyone except you.”

  “You can’t blame him!”

  “I’ll never forget that.”

  She had always defended the weak. She should have been there for Edwin, to talk sense to him, to support him. For that, she would never forgive herself. She bowed her head.

  Miles took her hand into his. “Promise me, Ella. Promise me you will try to make amends with Graden.”

  Ella scowled. “I’ll promise you one thing. I’ll promise he won’t end up on the end of my dagger.” She lifted her chin. “And that will be my thank you for saving your life.” With that, she turned and started down the hallway.

  “Ella!”

  She stopped and took a deep breath before turning back to Miles.

  A slow grin replaced his fierce frown. He opened his arms to her. “It is good to see you, little sister.”

  She realized she had not greeted him properly. Embarrassed and relieved, she raced into his arms, wrapping hers around him. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

  Graden stared into the bottom of his empty mug. He knew Ella would not welcome him. But Miles had insisted he come.

  Graden lifted his gaze to scan the Great Hall. At the entrance to the room, displayed in two vases of pottery on either side of the door, long stemmed red roses brightened the room with their vibrant color. He continued his perusal. Near the hea
rth stood shorter vases with more red roses. At the head table were even more roses. This was the right place, he knew it. If he was ever going to find the blue rose, this was going to be it.

  He swiveled his gaze toward Miles and Ella to see them speaking earnestly in the corridor outside of the Great Hall. He knew what they were discussing. When he had agreed to accompany Miles home, it had been because he had heard of Ella’s knowledge with the roses. The decorations around her home proved her skill with the flowers.

  He had searched everywhere for the blue rose, researched it with monks and herbalists, questioned merchants who traveled far and wide, before the call to arms arose. At the time, he had considered denying the call to serve, but thought better. He could not deny the king without severe consequences.

  During the war, he had continued his search in France, taking long walks alone through countryside and caves, through mountains and valleys. But he had not found the blue rose.

  Finally, just as hope was dying that he would ever find it, he overheard Miles talking to another man about his sister and her skill with roses. It gave him hope. Graden had done everything he could to befriend Miles Rames. No matter what the cost, he was going find the blue rose. He had given his word to the witch to find it and it was an oath his honor required he keep.

  The blue rose. All his life he had searched for the flower; he even dreamt of the damned thing. It remained as elusive as a lost regret. Graden leaned back in his chair as his gaze swiveled to Ella and Miles.

  Ella had surprised him. She was a strong, confident woman who had fire in her veins and her blue eyes. Wisps of dark hair hung in curls from the braid she wore behind her back. Her blue velvet dress clung to the curves of her body. If she didn’t hate him so, and if he had more time, he might fantasize about what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to kiss her bowed lips, to arouse her passion. He was startled to discover that he was rubbing his cheek where she had struck him.

  He dropped his hand from his cheek to the table. Thinking about her in that way could only end in frustration. She hated him. And she had every right to hate him. It was just too bad that his most promising hope of finding the blue rose was with a woman who despised him.