Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Somewhere during the second day of travel, they traded clothes with two peasant boys working in a bean field. Cade’s clothes had bugs and Roman’s were far too small, but they silently endured the tribulations they had brought upon themselves. They considered it the price to pay for their adventure. Rising early on the dawn of the third day, they traveled for several hours before finally reaching the outskirts of Berwick.

  The old nag plodded and swayed along the road, heading into the town from the southwest. Cade was itching like crazy and Roman, taking his turn at handling the horse, kept trying to still him. The castle, perched on the edge of the river, eventually came into view.

  It looked broken and beaten as the boys pulled the nag to halt, gazing at the fortress in the distance. Roman finally looked back at Cade.

  “So what do we do?” he asked. “Do you even have a plan?”

  Cade didn’t have much of one but he didn’t want Roman to know. He was older and, therefore, wiser, and he was determined to hatch a plan that would save Stephen and quite possibly the entire garrison at Berwick.

  “We need to sneak in,” he told Roman. “If we sneak in and pretend we’re servants, then we can find out where Sir Stephen is.”

  “And then what?”

  Cade made a face at him. “And then we rescue him.”

  Roman looked at the castle and shrugged. “Okay.”

  Cade was glad he hadn’t asked any more questions. They climbed off the horse and led it into a wooded area with a small stream running through it. There was plenty of grass and water, so they tied the horse off and trudged back up to the road. In their peasant clothing, they looked like just another pair of boys roaming the countryside, not the son of an Earl and the son of the Guardian Protector of Berwick. In fact, Roman tried not to think about his mother, knowing she was probably frantic with worry. But this adventure was important. He wished he had been able to tell her. She would have just told him that he couldn’t go.

  So they marched on towards the castle as the day passed into afternoon, having no idea that Tate and his men were about a quarter of a mile to the northwest. Cade and Roman moved into the town, dodging carts and horses, realizing they were very hungry because the food they had brought with them ran out that morning. They had no money, so Cade thought it would be acceptable to steal what they could since they were on a rescue mission. He was sure God would forgive them. Clever boys that they were, Roman distracted a shop keeper by falling in front of his stall and crying loudly as Cade stole a loaf of bread.

  Just about the time Cade disappeared with the bread, Roman’s crying miraculously stopped and he fled, meeting up with Cade on the next block and devouring their stolen goods. Half running, half walking as they shoved bread into their mouths, they cleared the town and found the stretch of road that led to the castle.

  Their pace picked up.

  *

  Stephen had slept all night and well into the morning, his battered body struggling to heal itself from his near-deadly beating. Joselyn, not feeling well in her early pregnancy, was coming to experience some insomnia and hadn’t fallen asleep until it was nearly dawn. So when Stephen awoke, it was to the gentle sound of his wife’s snoring. She was snuggled up against him, her face pressed into his chest, sleeping like the dead. Stephen didn’t move, smiling at the sound of her charming snores. He was so very thankful to be alive and to be with her, regardless of the circumstances. Up until yesterday, he was not sure he would ever experience moments like this again.

  He did notice that Kynan was not in the room with them. He was not sure if that was a good or a bad sign. His mind moved to Morgan de Velt, the mercenary knight who pledged his services at a high cost. He had fought with Mortimer because the man had heaped praise and money on him, but his services could have just as easily been bought by Edward. All that mattered to de Velt was where the money was coming from.

  Stephen knew that his wife’s mother was a de Velt, but there were quite a few of them this far north. Their ancestor, the fierce mercenary Ajax de Velt, had been a warlord back in the time of Henry the Second, in the dark days when England and Scotland and Wales were still places of great turmoil and little organization. He had eventually married well and had several children, branches of the family that were a paradox. Some were reputable and moral while others, like Morgan, carried on their ancestor’s mercenary tradition. But Ajax de Velt had also been known as a ruthless killer. Morgan could, from what Stephen knew, be the same way. He wondered how much knightly courtesy would keep Morgan from making an example out of him.

  So he lay on the mattress with his wife, holding her close and staring up at the ceiling lost in thought. He didn’t even know what time it was, but he knew he was hungry. Perhaps Kynan had gone to get food. As he continued to lay still, relaxed and quiet, the door to the solar creaked opened.

  Kynan stood in the doorway, his hand on the latch as he looked at Stephen. Stephen caught sight of him in his peripheral vision and turned slightly to get a better look. When their eyes met, Stephen was put on his guard simply by the expression on Kynan’s face.

  “Aye,” Kynan said with regret. “He’s awake.”

  Stephen knew he was not talking to him. In fact, he gently shook Joselyn awake as bootfalls approached and men began to crowd into the room. Joselyn awoke with a start but he shushed her swiftly.

  “I am sorry to wake you,” he whispered. “But we have guests. Please help me to sit up.”

  Rubbing her eyes, Joselyn was instantly full of fear but did as he asked. She was groggy but tried to stay calm, taking hold of Stephen’s arm as he sat up, very slowly, and leaned back against the wall. By the time Joselyn turned around, three big men were in the room with Kynan lingering somewhere behind them. She sat down next to Stephen and held his hand tightly, her pale blue eyes wide with fright.

  The knight standing in the forefront was not Scots; that much was clear. He was a big man with brown eyes and dark blond hair that fell to his shoulders. Huge hands rested at his sides as his gaze moved over Stephen. So far, he hadn’t even bothered looking at Joselyn.

  “Pembury,” he greeted, his voice deep and quiet.

  Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “De Velt, I presume?”

  “You presume correctly. I see that you are alive.”

  “I am, no thanks to you.”

  De Velt actually grinned. “My apologies,” he replied. “I have been very busy trying to secure Berwick. I forgot you were out in the yard.”

  Stephen had an expression on his face that let the man know without benefit of words that he knew he was lying. “I would not expect you to treat a prisoner with honor.”

  De Velt’s smile faded as he studied Stephen, plotting what to say next. Having only seen Stephen twice in his life, he knew of Pembury by reputation only, knowing he was one of the more powerful knights in the arsenal of King Edward and one of the tallest knights in England. He had been both pleased and surprised to have captured the man called Guardian Protector during the siege of Berwick and his commanders had told him to keep the man alive until they decided what was to be done with him. Now the decision was made and that directive had come this morning, directly from Moray. The news was not good.

  After a moment, de Velt exhaled wearily and looked around for a chair. One of his men shoved a stool at him and he pulled it up, seating his big body heavily. Only then did he look at Joselyn, curled up against her husband. He lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “What is the wench doing here?” he asked, not kindly.

  Stephen replied before Joselyn could voice her outrage. “This is not a wench,” he was beginning to sound perturbed. “This is my wife, the Lady Joselyn de Velt Seton Pembury, and her father is Alexander Seton. Perhaps you have heard of him.”

  De Velt stared at her. Then he looked around to the crowd behind him, jabbing a finger at Joselyn.

  “Why did no one tell me that she was here?” he demanded, suddenly bolting up from the stool and using it like a weapon to crown the man
nearest him. “Did no one think to tell me that Pembury’s wife was here?”

  Men were getting smacked around and Joselyn screamed, pressing herself against Stephen and turning her head away as one man took the stool in the mouth and blood sprayed. Stephen put his enormous hand over her head, holding it against his chest to protect her as de Velt swung away. Even Kynan ducked away as de Velt beat his men. But as swiftly as it started, the violence stopped and de Velt set the stool back down, reclaiming his seat.

  De Velt exhaled sharply, collecting himself, as he returned his focus to Joselyn. She was still clutched against Stephen’s chest, her pale blue eyes peering out of the safety of his protective hand. When her eyes met de Velt’s, he smiled at her.

  “Lady Pembury,” he said, sounding calm. “I was unaware you were here. You were not here during the battle, were you?”

  Joselyn looked at Stephen, who removed his hand from her head and answered for her. “Nay,” he said quietly.

  “Then how did she get here?”

  “I rode from Forestburn yesterday,” Joselyn found her tongue, thinking that it would be a good time to ask for her husband’s freedom now that she had de Velt’s attention. “As the daughter of Alexander Seton, I demand that you free my husband. If you release him, the king has promised to release my father.”

  Stephen looked at her sharply, wondering what in the hell she was doing making that kind of proposal. Edward would surely never agree to anything like that and he cursed under his breath at her bold foolishness. De Velt, however, never took his eyes from her, becoming increasingly interested in the very beautiful young woman before him. If he thought her proposition was ridiculous, he didn’t let on.

  “You are a de Velt,” he said after a moment, completely ignoring her offer.

  Joselyn nodded. “My mother was the daughter of Micah de Velt, Lord Carham.” She pointed to Kynan, standing over by the door. “Kynan is my cousin. His mother and my mother were sisters.”

  De Velt nodded, glancing back at Kynan. “Are you the one who admitted her to Berwick without my knowledge?”

  Kynan shook his head. “The guards did that. I happened tae see her in the bailey and brought her in here fer her own safety.”

  De Velt digested that, understanding a little more of the lady’s mysterious appearance, before returning his focus to Joselyn. “Micah was my father’s brother,” he told her. “Micah was the oldest of fourteen children and I am sorry to say that I do not keep track of all of my kin. But It would seem that you and I are related, Lady Pembury.”

  “And Kynan, too.”

  He nodded slowly. “And Kynan, too.”

  Joselyn was not sure if that was a good or bad thing. She pushed herself off of her husband and rose, smoothing her gown and trying to convey a somewhat presentable and collected appearance. She didn’t want to come across like a groveling wife, as de Lara had warned her. She wanted to present a strong, determined front.

  “Since we are related, I would ask you, as my kin, to please release my husband,” she said firmly. “He is injured and I wish to take him someplace safe where he can heal.”

  De Velt scratched his head, inspecting Lady Pembury’s delicious figure beneath her soft yellow surcoat. She had luscious full breasts and he found himself staring at them.

  “I am not sure that is possible, lady,” he replied. “I understand that Pembury hanged your brothers as you and your family watched from the battlements. Is this true?”

  Joselyn looked stricken, struggling not to appear off balance. “My brothers were hanged,” she confirmed. “But Stephen did not personally do it. He has, in fact, done many wonderful things for me and my family since the event of our marriage. He is a good man.”

  De Velt looked at Stephen. “She lives in a dream world where you can do no wrong,” he said. “You will tell me the truth, Pembury. Did you personally hang her brothers?”

  Stephen sighed faintly, looking up at Joselyn, who was now staring back at him with some fear. He averted his gaze, thinking carefully on his answer.

  “I was Thomas’ guard the entire time he was Edward’s hostage,” he replied quietly. “He was a fine young man who never stopped believing that his father would seek his freedom. When Alexander Seton did not honor the terms of the hostage agreement, it was my duty to present the boy to the executioner.”

  De Velt’s gaze was riveted to him. “Ever the obedient knight,” he said, bordering on sarcasm. “Did you put the noose over his neck?”

  Stephen’s blue eyes were intense. “Nay,” he replied hoarsely. “Tommy did it himself, weeping as he did so, because his father had failed him. The boy put that noose on his own neck and stepped off the scaffold under his own accord. None of us had to make a move because the boy took his own life.”

  Joselyn suddenly turned away, weeping softly, and Stephen reached out to put a comforting hand on her. De Velt’s gaze was intense on Stephen.

  “Many Scots witnessed this hanging,” he said. “I have not heard mention of that particular version.”

  “As if they would tell you,” Stephen’s gaze was equally intense. “I would not lie to you.”

  “I believe you,” de Velt said in a surprising show of reassurance. “You are a man of honor from what I am told. I would not expect you to lie to me to save yourself.”

  By this time, Joselyn was wiping her tears away, struggling to put the details of Tommy’s death aside. There would be another time to grieve for her little brother. Squaring her shoulders, she faced de Velt with resolve.

  “I want my husband released,” she told him. “He has told you that he did not hang Tommy or Willie. His only crime is that he fought for the English king. He is Alexander Seton’s son-in-law and you will let him go.”

  De Velt looked at her, the manner in which his eyes drifted over her body causing her skin to crawl. Stephen saw it and he stiffened with outrage but made no move against de Velt. Injured as he was, he knew he would not last long in a fight. If he was going to attack the man, then let it be for something more than a lascivious glance.

  “Alas, my lady, I cannot,” de Velt replied after a long, lustful moment. “I have come to tell your husband that I received orders from the Earl of Moray this morning. It would seem that the earl is to make an example out of your husband to show the English what will happen if they make another attempt to capture Berwick.”

  Joselyn’s blood ran cold. Her heart began to pound and her body to shake. She could feel Stephen grasping her by the wrist, pulling her over to him. As he put his massive arm around her, she struggled against him. She was not interested in being held at the moment. She wanted de Velt to clarify himself.

  “An example?” she repeated, both angry and terrified. “What does that mean? What foolishness is this?”

  De Velt shook his head. “No foolishness at all, I assure you,” he replied without a hint of distress in his voice. “Your husband is an enemy of Scotland and all enemies of Scotland are harshly dealt with. In two days, at dusk, Pembury is to be drawn and quartered, and parts of his body distributed along the border as an example to all who oppose young David as the king of Scotland. His head will be sent to Edward himself.”

  Joselyn coiled like a spring, making a lunge for de Velt even as Stephen held on to her. “You cannot make an example of my husband,” she screamed. “He belongs to me and I am taking him from this place. I shall kill you if you try to stop me. Do you hear? I will kill you!”

  It was as much passion and anger as Stephen had ever heard from her. She was all fury and fight. He pulled her back against him, trying to soothe her, as de Velt almost seemed amused.

  “I believe you,” he said sincerely. “Which is why I will have Kynan remove you. Go home, little lady. Go home and forget you ever had an English husband for soon he will fade into memory.”

  Joselyn went mad. She screamed angrily and grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be an empty pitcher from their meal the previous night. She threw it at de Velt, who ducked, allo
wing it to sail into the man behind him. Kynan was already moving towards her, putting himself between Joselyn and de Velt. He grabbed her by the arms, forcing her down beside Stephen as the weakened man tried to keep a grip on her.

  “Stop it,” Kynan hissed. “If ye sufficiently anger him, he’ll make an example of ye, too!”

  Stephen wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her against him. His ribs were screaming with the exertion but he had little choice. Joselyn had turned into a wildcat. He trapped her, forcing her to face him.

  “Sweetheart, stop,” he murmured. “Stop your fighting. You will listen to me and listen well.”

  She interrupted him as the angry, terrified tears began to come. “I am not leaving you!”

  He put his face into the side of her head, his lips by her ear. “Listen to me,” he whispered, making sure that de Velt didn’t hear him. “You must return to Tate and tell him what has happened. I need you to take that message to him, do you understand?”

  She was weeping fearfully into his neck but she still managed to comprehend what he was saying. “But I do not want to leave you,” she whispered, her lips quivering. “Please do not make me leave you.”

  He smiled sweetly at her, cupping her face between his two massive hands. “You will never leave me, sweetheart,” he declared, gazing into her eyes. “You will always be with me, locked deep inside my heart. But I would like to see our son grow up and unless you take a message back to Tate, I am not sure that will happen. Please? It is important.”

  Joselyn was struggling between hysteria and composure. She wanted to go wild with what de Velt was suggesting yet Stephen’s calm words were sinking in. If she wanted to see her husband live, then she must do as he said. She had done all she could and it was clear the Scots would not release Stephen. They were going to punish him for being English. She just was not strong enough to free him herself. She needed help.