Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Isobeau wiped the tears of joy and relief off her face. “You came!” she gasped. “Why did you come? Why are you here?”

  Tertius looked her over critically. “Are you well?” he asked, avoiding her question for the moment. “You look rather pale.”

  Isobeau waved him off. “I am fine,” she insisted. “What are you doing here?”

  Having his question answered, and knowing that his sister had emerged from the siege of Wolfe’s Lair unharmed, Tertius was inclined to provide Isobeau answers to her own inquiry.

  “We were told that Wolfe’s Lair was under attack and made haste to lend assistance,” he said. “How long has this been going on?”

  Isobeau shrugged, for she truly didn’t know. It seemed like forever. “At least a week, possibly more,” she said. “Is… is Atticus well? I have not seen him in a very long time.”

  Tertius nodded. “Not a scratch on the man,” he replied. “Solomon, either.”

  “And Warenne? Kenton?”

  Tertius seemed to sober. “Kenton is well,” he said. “But Warenne is dead. You did not know this?”

  Isobeau gasped in horror at the news. “I… I did not,” she said, devastated at the passing of the Earl of Thetford. “I have been locked in this room for the past week. I have not been allowed to leave and no one has come to tell me anything, save Thetford. He… he was only here a short while ago. Now he is dead?”

  Tertius nodded. “Aye,” he said sadly. Then, he sighed heavily. “Losing Titus and now Warenne… it makes me want to give up war altogether and take up the life of a fisherman. I have seen far too many friends perish over the past few years, but the past few weeks have been the most costly. I am coming to wonder if these wars between Henry and Edward are worth the price we all must pay.”

  Isobeau was still lingering on Warenne’s death, so deeply saddened by it. She wandered back over to her little table where her embroidery lay and sat heavily on the nearest chair. “He was such a giving and wise man,” she murmured. “I am sure Atticus is… Tertius, where is Atticus?”

  Tertius tugged at his mail gauntlet. “The last I saw, he was cleaning up pockets of fighting near the gate,” he said. “I told you he was well.”

  Isobeau nodded. “It is not that,” she said, thinking on the last conversation she and Warenne had shared. He already lost someone he cared very deeply for in a situation where he was unable to protect him. He could not lose someone else he cared deeply for and not do anything about it. She wondered if Warenne had ever made it back to Atticus to tell him that she was more than willing to see him. To forgive him. Since Atticus had not come to her yet, she suspected that perhaps Warenne had never told him. Her expression to Tertius was filled with urgency. “Please find Atticus and send him to me, Tertius. I must speak to him immediately.”

  Tertius frowned. “The man is cleaning up after a battle,” he said. “He has better things to do right now.”

  Isobeau stood up. “If you do not send him to me, I will go out and find him,” she said. “Please, Tertius. It is very important.”

  Tertius made a face at her but he wasn’t beyond sensing the stress in her tone. Snarling at her, he turned for the door. “You are a demanding creature, Izzy,” he said, unhappy. “I will send Atticus to you when he is finished and not one moment sooner. You should know that you cannot always have everything just the way you wish it.”

  Isobeau stuck her tongue out at her brother. “I love you very much, Tertius,” she said. “But sometimes you are an annoying little snip.”

  Tertius shook his head at her, lingering in the doorway before he left completely. “And I love you, too,” he said. “But you are a spoiled child.”

  “I hate you now.”

  “I hate you more.”

  Tertius left the chamber but not before Isobeau saw a grin on his lips. Grinning herself, she went to the door, watching her beloved brother head down the corridor and out to the steps that led down into the inner ward.

  Once he was gone from her sight, she began to wonder if he would really tell Atticus to come and see her. She suspected he wouldn’t, at least not right away, and that thought began to drive her into agitation. The battle was over, so Tertius said, so surely there was no danger any longer. Surely she could leave her chamber and find Atticus without any hazards befalling her. She simply couldn’t wait any longer to speak with him; seven days had been far too long to wait.

  She had to see him.

  In silence, she left the chamber and headed out into the gentle dusk.

  More death and more destruction.

  At least, that was what Isobeau thought when she made her way down the steps that led into the inner ward. The big ward was badly damaged and dead men, men with arrows still in their bodies, were being piled up near the great hall. She could see at least a dozen or more, all being carefully lined up. She stood upon the steps for quite some time, watching the activity below, trying not to become ill at the sight of so much death, before shifting her attention to the stable off to her left.

  The structure didn’t seem to be any more damaged than it had been the last time she saw it and she made her way over to it to check on her mare. The horse was still where she had left it, crowded into an undamaged stall with a pony and three goats. The horse was gnawing on the wooden slats of the stall so she gave it some of the dried grass that was piled up in another stall. The mare and the pony and the goats descended on the grass, hungry. Leaving her animal friends feasting, Isobeau wandered back out into the ward.

  It was difficult to tell if there was still fighting going on at the gate because there were so many men grouped around it that she couldn’t really see what was happening. All she knew was that there were dozens of men, and knights on horseback, and she recognized Maxim de Russe and Alec le Bec. Alec even waved at her. She waved back even though her attention was focused on finding Atticus.

  Men were moving about everywhere and she dodged groups of them as she made haste across the inner ward, heading for the great hall where she knew the wounded were. She tried not to think on the last time she was in the great hall, the day that Alrik du Reims was killed, but it seemed an easy enough thought to overcome when she wanted badly to see Atticus. She had to find him and she had to tell him… well, she wasn’t quite sure what, exactly, she was going to tell him, but if what Warenne had said was true, then perhaps it was time for her to be truthful with the man she had married. All she knew was that she had to see him. She was lingering by the entry to the great hall, straining to catch a glimpse of the men inside, when she heard a soft, deep voice behind her.

  “Isobeau?”

  Whirling around, she found herself facing Atticus. He was in plate armor, without his helm, and he appeared positively exhausted. A dark growth of beard spread over his face and his beautiful eyes were ringed with dark circles. But it was what she saw within those eyes that had her breath catching in her throat; there was something very deep and very emotional there. Whatever it was brought tears to her eyes. She was so glad to see him that she very nearly crumpled.

  “I heard about Warenne,” she said, her throat tight with emotion. “I am so sorry, Atticus. I know he was your friend.”

  Atticus’ gaze lingered on her. In fact, he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d happened to notice her when she came out of the stables and even though he had been at the front gate, directing the disposal of the Northumberland dead, he left the knights in charge and followed his wife all the way across the inner ward until she came to a halt at the entry to the great hall. Now, all of those words he had planned to say to her, or wanted to say to her, seemed to catch in his throat. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

  “He was a dear and valued friend,” he finally said. “I will miss him.”

  “As will I.”

  “What are you doing down here? It is quite a mess still.”

  She took a step towards him, her lovely face upturned to him, illuminated by the torchlight that was casting a warm
glow over the inner ward. “Tertius came to see me,” she said. “He said that Northumberland came to help us.”

  Atticus nodded. He wanted so very badly to reach out and hold her but he knew it wouldn’t be well met. His arms fairly ached to touch her. “They did,” he said. “A Wellesbourne knight, who was traveling to Wolfe’s Lair to see me, came upon the siege and rode straight to Alnwick for help. Fortunate for us that he did or I have no idea what state we would be in now.”

  Isobeau grew serious. “Was Wolfe’s Lair in danger of falling?”

  Atticus nodded. “I believe so,” he said. “In fact, before Northumberland appeared, I was coming to see you to take you to safety.”

  Isobeau’s face lit up. “You were coming to see me?”

  He nodded, seeing that she appeared rather pleased by the thought. “Aye,” he said, wondering if he should say anything more. He was terrified to, terrified she would run off or, worse, reject him. Therefore, he restrained himself. “As I said, I was going to take you to safety.”

  Isobeau’s face fell. “I see,” she said, lowering her gaze and looking to the destruction of the inner ward. “I am glad that Northumberland appeared, then. I understand that your father is well also. He survived.”

  Atticus nodded, noting how depressed she seemed now whereas moments before, she seemed quite warm and receptive. “He is very well,” he said. “Now I cannot keep him out of the clean-up efforts. He thinks he is in charge.”

  “Well, it is his fortress.”

  Atticus gave her a lopsided smile. “Aye, it is,” he said, eyeing her. He cleared his throat softly and somewhat nervously. “You… you said that you came to find me?”

  Isobeau looked at him; really looked at him. At that moment, she could do one of two things – she could simply tell him that she was pleased he was uninjured and leave it at that, or she could bare her soul and pray he didn’t run off in horror. Since Warenne had led her to believe that Atticus felt something for her, she took a chance on the latter. But speaking of her feelings for the man was the most difficult thing she’d ever had to do in her life.

  “I did,” she said quietly. “I… I wanted to speak with you.”

  “What about?”

  She looked at him sadly, perhaps with some chagrin. “Shall we pretend that I did not say such terrible things to you the last time we saw one another?” she said softly. “I, for one, cannot do such a thing. I cannot ignore the terrible things I said to you and… and I wanted to ask for your forgiveness. I understand that you were trying to protect me, Atticus. You saw danger and you did what you could to save my life. I should not have been so horrid to you about it. I should have trusted you and I am sorry that I did not.”

  At that moment, Atticus felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could breathe again. He smiled faintly at her, realizing that he felt more alive and joyful than he had in days, even weeks or months. Perhaps ever. Nothing he’d ever known equated with what he was feeling at her words.

  “I am sorry, too,” he said. “I frightened you and I upset you. I did not mean to do either of those things, but when I saw the knight with his arm across your neck, I knew that it was either his life or yours. Know that if I had it to do all over again, I would do the same thing. I could not let anything happen to you, Isobeau. It would destroy me.”

  Isobeau could feel her heart racing, that giddy feeling she was coming to associate with Atticus. Very boldly, she reached out to take his gloved hand and he instantly latched on to her, bringing her fingers to his lips. He closed his eyes tightly, her flesh against his mouth, and Isobeau instinctively put a hand to his cheek. A dam of some kind had broken and she could feel the emotions flowing from both of them, wrapping up around them like a vortex. Any hesitation she had at speaking her mind or her thoughts vanished.

  It was time for total truth.

  “As it would destroy me as well if something happened to you,” she whispered, watching him kiss her hand. There was so much power behind his kisses that it brought tears to her eyes. “I have been so worried for you, Atticus, and I did not want anything to happen to you before I had the opportunity to tell you how I feel. I had the opportunity to tell Titus before he left and I did not take that chance. I will not make the same mistake twice.”

  Atticus opened his eyes, focusing intensely on her. “What do you feel?”

  Her eyes were glimmering with every unspoken emotion she was feeling. “Shall I tell you?”

  Atticus nodded. Then he shook his head. “How is it even possible that you should feel something for me?” he asked, bewildered and genuinely curious. “You loved my brother.”

  Isobeau smiled sadly, her palm still against his cheek. “I was very fond of him,” she murmured. “Titus was a warm and wonderful man and mayhap in time, I would have loved him. But in hindsight, it wasn’t love that I felt for him. It was simply a great fondness. I will always be greatly fond of him. But you… you are a man unto yourself, not to be overshadowed by a brother that everyone loved. What I feel for you has nothing to do with Titus and everything to do with you, as a man. My fondness for you grows by leaps and bounds. I look forward to the day when I can tell you that I love you with all my heart. I pray that does not repel or alarm you.”

  Atticus kissed her hand once more and then dropped it, cupping her face between his two big palms. He gazed into her eyes, trying to think of something sweet and warm and lovely to say to her but he could only think of one thing to say. It was the truth.

  “I cannot remember when I have not loved you,” he said softly. “It came upon me and suddenly I realized that it was true. I tried to tell myself that it was wrong to love my brother’s widow but the truth is that you are my wife. You belong to me and I will love you, and only you, until I die.”

  Isobeau was swept away by his words, her heart beating furiously against her ribs and her limbs turned to liquid fire. She leaned into him and Atticus slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her so forcefully that he drove her teeth into her soft lip. He tasted her blood and, loving it, suckled her mouth harder. His arms went around her and he pulled her so tightly against him that he thought to crush her. But he didn’t care; she was where he wanted her and where she belonged, in his arms, never to stray again.

  It was a magical moment.

  But they were not alone in it. Standing several feet away, Tertius, Kenton, Alec, Adam, Maxim, and Juston de Royans stood, watching Atticus devour his luscious and shapely wife. Juston turned to Tertius.

  “Is that your sister?” he asked.

  Tertius nodded, watching the woman being ravaged by her husband. “Indeed it is.”

  Juston lifted his blond eyebrows. “If I had known she was such a beauty, I would have pledged for her myself.”

  Tertius grunted. “I cannot think of her in those terms,” he said. “She is still the skinny, freckle-faced sister I have always known.”

  All five knights shook their heads in utter disagreement but Kenton was the one who spoke. “Nay, she is not,” he said. “A blind man can see what a prize she is. I am glad Atticus finally realized that. I was coming to wonder if he ever would.”

  Tertius, his gaze lingering on his sister and her amorous husband, waved a hand at the pair as if to dismiss them and their lusty display, and headed back to the gates where his men were collecting the dead. Kenton, Maxim, Alec, Adam, and Juston were still clustered in an exhausted group, watching Atticus and Isobeau for a few moments longer before turning away. They had their own duties to attend to. In truth, they had come to find Atticus to seek out direction on what he wanted them to do as far as cleaning up Wolfe’s Lair, but they could all see that the man was indisposed. They would have to figure out their tasks without his direction.

  “Does Tertius have any more sisters?” Juston asked Adam as they walked away.

  Adam snorted. “He does not,” he said. “But Maxim and Alec do. Mayhap they will put in a good word for you. But be advised that I have seen these women and they l
ook just like their ugly brothers, so you may want to reconsider.”

  Alec, hearing Adam’s comment, threw a pebble that hit the man in the neck. Angry, Adam shook his fist threateningly at Alec but his threats went largely ignored. The knights then dissipated into the deepening evening to help shore up Wolfe’s Lair for the night while Atticus and Isobeau lost themselves in a kiss that would go down in history as possibly one of the best and purest in the true sense of the gesture. It was everything they ever knew it could be… and more.

  After that, Atticus spent the next hour with his wife simply to make up for lost time before reluctantly pulling himself away from her to oversee the post-battle activities of Wolfe’s Lair. At least for the night, there was no talk of battle, of death, or of war.

  With Shaun Summerlin and his men on the retreat and Wolfe’s Lair under a veil of peace, Atticus was able to relax somewhat. For the moment, he was worry-free. For a brief and shining moment, he allowed himself the luxury of life without battle or grief. For that brief and shining moment, there was only Isobeau.

  Even though Atticus slept in his mother’s bed next to his wife that night, he did not engage in his husbandly rights. He knew she was still healing from her recent miscarriage and he suspected that an act of that sort would be physically difficult for her, so he refrained. It was the first time in his life that he’d ever thought of someone else over himself. But he didn’t regret it. In fact, sleeping with her in his arms was quite possibly the best thing he ever did.

  Waking up to her soft, gentle singing was just this side of heaven.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ~ The End is Known ~

  Ionian scale in C – Lyrics to The Lion

  He came from the north

  One starlit night

  A man called The Lion

  Much more than simply a knight

  —Isobeau de Shera de Wolfe, 15th c.

  “With the threat against Wolfe’s Lair gone, I do not intend to delay any longer in my quest to ride to Wellesbourne Castle,” Atticus said. Seated around the feasting table of Wolfe’s Lair’s great hall, he spoke to the knights sitting near him, including Juston de Royans. In fact, he was singularly focused on the man. “I realize you and I have not had any time to speak since the chaos of yesterday, but Adam mentioned briefly that you had been on the road to Wolfe’s Lair specifically to see me when you came upon Norfolk’s siege and went to summon help. I am in your debt for that action.”