Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Mayhap you should change out of your wet things,” she said. “I… I would be happy to help you unless you are expecting your squire to come.”

  God’s Bones, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. He still had some things to attend to but nothing short of a command from God was going to move him out of this room and away from her lovely hands. She was offering to help him, the first such overture he’d ever had from her, and there was no way he was going to refuse. He looked down at himself and, seeing how wet and disheveled he really was, nodded wearily.

  “That would be appreciated,” he said softly.

  Diamantha moved to stand in front of him. “Tell me where you wish for me to start,” she said. “Robert liked to start at his feet and work his way up but you may do it differently.”

  Cortez looked down at himself again. “It would be easiest, in my estimation, to start from the top,” he said, indicating the tunic. “If you help me remove this, the rest will easily follow.”

  Diamantha gestured with her hands. “Arms up, then.”

  Cortez swiftly unstrapped his broadsword from his waist and thigh and propped it up against the wall. Then he lifted his arms and bent forward while she pulled the drenched tunic over his head. It was a dark gray in color, wool, with the de Bretagne bird of prey carefully stitched in white thread upon the front. He watched her take the tunic over to the hearth and spread it out over a broken wooden frame that was there just for that purpose. It took her a few tries to get the frame to stand as she positioned the tunic next to the fire so it would dry.

  Turning around, Diamantha could see that Cortez had remained bent over so she could help remove his mail coat. It was a heavy thing, and tricky to remove, so she started at the bottom and basically worked it over his head. But it was extremely heavy for her, and wet, so it was a messy job. By the time she pulled it off completely, the front of her surcoat was utterly soaked. He saw the mess.

  “I am sorry,” he said, indicating the enormous wet stain on the front of her garment. “I should have had my squire do this.”

  She gave him a reproachful expression. “I am already soaked,” she said. “Let me help you remove the rest of your wet things so that my soaking will not have been in vain.”

  He smirked. “No need, madam,” he said. “From this point, my squire can take over. The rest of this will be very cumbersome and nasty for you to deal with.”

  She cocked a doubtful eyebrow. “Are you sure? Your padded tunic should be spread out to dry immediately.”

  Beneath the mail coat, which was the length from his shoulders to his knees, he wore a padded tunic that was damp and stained, as well as leather breeches and very fine, well-used leather boots that had been heavily oiled in order to make them resistant to water. At her prompting about the padded tunic, he shrugged, held his arms out, and bent over at the waist again. Diamantha gave a good yank and pulled the heavily padded tunic right off.

  Holding the tunic at arm’s length because it was wet and smelly, she hung it up on a peg above the hearth to dry it. Helping Cortez undress reminded her of how she used to assist Robert. Rather than use squires like he should have, Robert liked to have his wife tend him. More often than not, when clothes were coming off, he would make a point of taking everything off and then trying to bed her, and most of the time she would play his game. She smiled faintly at the memories of the times when she would not permit him to bed her after such undressings, listening to his cries of utter disappointment and the pathetic pleadings of a madman. Robert could be dramatic at times, humorously so. She missed those moments.

  But she didn’t dwell on it. It was of no use, especially now. She was sure that she and Cortez would make their own special moments, although she wasn’t sure what those would be. Things were still very uncertain. Lost in thought, she turned around to face him again and was confronted by a half-naked man.

  But it wasn’t just any man. It was her new husband in an unexpected display of flesh and raw allure. Diamantha’s eyes fell on Cortez, nude but for his breeches and boots, and her breathing began coming in strange, giddy gasps. She’d never seen anything to magnificent in her life.

  Startled, she tore her eyes away and pretended to look at something else, anything else, but his muscular chest, big shoulders, and powerful arms. There was perfection there as God had intended the male form to be but, as a mere mortal, she wasn’t meant to look upon it. She couldn’t because, like a man gazing upon the face of Medusa, the sight seemed to want to suck every rational thought out of her head and turn her into stone. For certain, she felt frozen in awe. Struggling to focus on something other than Cortez’s beauty, she ended up looking at the animals in their cage.

  “Were you…?” she began, swallowed, and then started again. “Were you going to find some milk for the animals?”

  Completely unaware of Diamantha’s flustered state, Cortez was in the process of inspecting his breeches, which were very wet around the waistline.

  “Aye,” he replied, loosening the lacings on his breeches. “As soon as my squire arrives with my saddlebags so I can put on a dry tunic.”

  Diamantha still wouldn’t look at him. Trying to keep herself busy, she took the small wooden bowl out of the animals’ cage and put some water in it from the pitcher in the room. She put it back in the cage, petting the kittens who very much wanted to come out and play. She ended up picking them both up, cuddling the little creatures who were purring like mad, when there was a sharp knock on the door. As Diamantha moved to put the kittens back into the cage, Cortez in all of his nude, manly glory opened the door.

  James and Oliver were standing in the corridor, their young faces grim. “Sorry to disturb you, my lord,” James said. “But you’d better come. The town’s sheriff is in the room downstairs, wanting to know your business. He is bellowing something about too many soldiers about. He is demanding answers.”

  Cortez glanced down the corridor, towards the stairs that led into the common room. He could hear raised voices. “Who is the man?” he asked. “Did he give a name?”

  James shook his head. “He simply said he was the sheriff and demanded we bring you to him.”

  Cortez cocked an eyebrow as he looked at his knights. There was hardness in his expression. “Demanded, did he?”

  James nodded, giving him a rather concerned look. “Aye, he did,” he said, lowering his voice. “He could be trouble.”

  Cortez pondered that statement for a brief moment. “Where are Andres and Drake?”

  “In the common room, watching him.”

  “Are they armed?”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  “Is this sheriff armed?”

  “He is.”

  “How many men does he have with him?”

  “At least ten.”

  “Knights?”

  “No, my lord. Ruffians, it looks like. They have clubs but no real swords that we could see.”

  That was enough for Cortez. Swiftly, he turned back into the room, going to the peg where his padded tunic was hanging. He snatched it as James and Oliver came into the chamber, collecting Cortez’s mail and assisting the man in dressing. They had him completely dressed in under a minute as James collected Cortez’s broadsword and handed it to him. Cortez was strapping it on when he glanced up and saw Diamantha’s worried face.

  The expression on her features startled him. She actually appeared… concerned, as if she cared what happened to him. His manner immediately softened.

  “I shall return shortly,” he told her. “Bolt the door after I’ve gone. Do not open it for anyone but me or my knights. Is that clear?”

  She nodded, fear swelling in her breast. “What are you going to do?”

  Cortez could see how concerned she was and it touched him deeply. It gave him hope, hope that all of the animosity they had experienced hadn’t irrevocably damaged their relationship. God, it made him so very happy. He reached out to gently touch her cheek in a calming and reassuring gesture. He simply couldn’t
help himself.

  “The man wants to speak with me,” he said rather casually as he turned for the door. “Let him speak.”

  “But…!”

  He interrupted her, gently done. “Not to worry, my beauty,” he assured her. “There are more of me than there are of him. This will be a short conversation.”

  With that, he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Diamantha ran to the panel and threw the big iron bolt, her heart thumping fearfully against her ribs. As she leaned against the door, listening, her hand came up to finger the spot where Cortez had touched her. She could still feel his warmth. He’d branded her with his fire.

  God’s Bones, she thought, straining to hear through the crooked door. I’ve already lost one husband. I don’t want to lose another, not when we are only coming to know one another. For a moment, she thought about her life should Cortez be killed. Her trip north to reclaim Robert’s body would end this very day and she would more than likely return to Corfe, to George and his melancholy, to grieve not one but two husbands. If she thought very hard about it, her grief for Robert had eased these past few weeks. She still missed him terribly, but the gut-wracking pain wasn’t there any longer. Now, she simply felt sad.

  But the idea of losing Cortez already had her stomach in knots. She couldn’t stand the thought. Damn the man for attending this “conversation”. Damn the man for not thinking of her first, knowing how terrified she would be at the thought of losing another husband. Well, maybe he didn’t know at all. She’d never given him a reason to think that she might actually be concerned for him. For all he knew, she was just as resistant to this marriage as she’d ever been. But Diamantha was forced to admit that it was no longer the truth. She realized that she wasn’t particularly averse any longer.

  With a heavy sigh, she moved away from the door, her gaze falling upon her sleeping daughter. Sophie had shown Cortez acceptance from the very beginning, something Diamantha still couldn’t openly do. But perhaps that needed to change. Perhaps she needed to show the man that she was indeed resigned to being his wife.

  Nay… not resigned… accepting.

  If he made it through this “conversation”, she would be sure to tell him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Forcing thoughts of Diamantha’s worried expression out of his mind, Cortez focused on the situation at hand. Making his way down the leaning corridor with James and Oliver flanking him, he paused at the top of the stairs and observed the situation in the common room below.

  Somehow, the room was smokier than he had remembered and it was filled to the rafters with people seeking shelter from the storm. There was a good deal of eating going on and laughter could be heard on occasion. The fat innkeeper was moving amongst the crowded tables with a pitcher in his hands, delivering his cheap wine into the cups of those who would pay for the privilege of drinking it.

  Above the smoke and conversation, Cortez could see his brother and Drake near the entry, back in the shadows. He made eye contact with them and Andres pointed over near the hearth. Cortez followed his brother’s pointed direction but he noticed nothing special or unusual in the area his brother was indicating. There were several people dressed in what looked like rags, drinking heavily and pulling apart a knuckle of sheep. There were also a couple that looked relatively well dressed, a man and woman who appeared to be travelers seeking shelter for the night. They kept to themselves, nearly huddled, seemingly fearful of the rabble around them. Cortez couldn’t blame them.

  Then, he spied a man who was very well dressed sitting at a table that was directly in front of the hearth. It was difficult to see clearly through the smoke, but he was sitting at a table with five men who were dressed in shabby mail. At the table next to them, there were at least seven men, all armed with nasty-looking clubs. Cortez could see at least three clubs on the table where the sheriff sat, branches of wood wrapped in leather and studded with nails. These were not weapons of honor. They were crude weapons meant to inflict as much damage as possible. He leaned towards James.

  “Is that the man?” he asked, pointing down to the table with the clubs on it.

  James nodded. “That’s him.”

  Cortez’s gaze lingered on the table. “Go rouse some of the men,” he muttered. “Tell them to come here in a hurry.”

  James nodded and descended the steps, heading for the front entry and the wild rain outside. As Cortez began to descend the stairs, slowly, Andres and Drake came out of the shadows to meet him at the base of the steps. All the while, Cortez’s eyes never left the table with the sheriff and his henchmen. Already, he could smell blood. He knew they hadn’t come here to socialize.

  Once Cortez and his knights grouped at the bottom of the rickety stairs, Andres bellowed over to the sheriff.

  “You, there,” he called. “Turn around and face me.”

  The sheriff jerked around and his men immediately stood up, clubs in hand. When the knights saw the clubs, the broadswords came out. The sounds of tempered steel grating against leather scabbards pierced the air and tension filled the room. The rest of the eating, drinking occupants of the inn began to scatter. It was never a good thing when two armed groups made themselves known. Even the innkeeper scurried back into the kitchen, away from the situation. His fat head peered out from the doorway, watching and waiting like the rest of his patron. Watching to see who drew the first blood.

  “Who are you?” the sheriff stood up from his chair, pointing at Cortez. “By what right do you bring your army into my town?”

  Cortez gazed at the man unemotionally. “Tell me your name or I will have nothing to say to you.”

  The sheriff’s brow furrowed. “Not until you tell me yours first!”

  “Then we are at a standoff already.”

  The sheriff sighed unhappily. He put his meaty hands on his big hips. “Dornauld,” he told him through clenched teeth. “This is my town. Now tell me your name and be quick about it.”

  Cortez remained calm. “I am Sir Cortez de Bretagne,” he told him. “I am garrison commander at Sherborne Castle, servant to our King Edward, and Sheriff of the Shire. I am passing through your town in my travel north. Is there anything else you wish to know?”

  Dornauld faltered somewhat. He hadn’t expected a man of high standing. It made him nervous. “I have heard of you,” he said with some reluctance, eyeing Cortez. “How do I know you are truly de Bretagne?”

  Cortez held up his broadsword with the de Bretagne crest etched on the hilt. “I would be more than happy to show you.”

  It was a threat and they all knew it, and upon knowing who this man was, Dornauld wasn’t so sure he wanted to engage him.

  “That is not necessary,” he said, trying to maintain control of the conversation. “Why are you traveling north?”

  “That is my business.”

  Dornauld faltered heavily this time. He glanced at the men around him, men holding studded clubs. He didn’t want to lose face with them, especially since he promised them a fight and the possessions of the losers. Swallowing hard, he struggled to appear as if he wasn’t intimidated. He had to make good to his men somehow.

  “All great parties passing through my town must pay tribute,” he demanded. “You have many men. It will cost you twenty gold crowns to pass through my town.”

  Cortez could see the man was a weakling. He sheathed his broadsword. “I will not pay,” he said, putting his hands on his hips in a rather sassy gesture. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Dornauld’s face began to turn red. “If you do not pay, I will set my men upon you.”

  Cortez’s mouth twitched with a smile just as several of his men began to pour in through the front and back doors. Soon, the inn was full of men in armor, heavily armed, and Dornauld and his men were visibly unsettled. Those holding the studded clubs lifted their weapons threateningly as Cortez’s men fanned out through the room.

  “Beware, de Bretagne,” Dornauld said furiously. “I can summon hundreds of men to o
verwhelm your paltry troops. Beware your next move!”

  Cortez was finished arguing with the idiot. He made his way over to Dornauld with his knights flanking him. Andres and Drake shoved a couple of Dornauld’s men out of the way when they crowded too close. Once Cortez reached Dornauld, he slapped the man across the face so hard that Dornauld fell back on the tabletop. Cortez was on top of him in an instant, his onyx eyes blazing.

  “You are either the stupidest man I have ever come across or you truly have no idea that there are men with armies that can crush you like a spider,” he snarled. “I have fifteen hundred men at Sherborne Castle who can be here within hours. I can give them orders to torch your dirty little town and everything you hold dear will be gone. Anger me and I may just do it. Anger me further and I will send to London for more of Edward’s men, and we will wipe your village and your family from the face of the earth. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Dornauld knew the man wasn’t bluffing. He could tell by his expression. But he was used to controlling this town and everyone in it. He wasn’t used to someone dominating him. Angry, he tried to push Cortez away.

  “You have no power here,” he growled. “You have….”

  Cortez cut him off by another slap to the face. It was a humiliating gesture, for only women were slapped. “I have more power here than you do,” he exclaimed. “Allow me to tell you what is going to happen now.”

  “You cannot…!”

  Another slap shut Dornauld up. Cortez had the man around the neck. “You and your men are going to go far, far away,” he said, his voice low. “If I see just a hint of you, ever again, I will order my men to torch the town and I will set out after you as a hound tracks a fox. When I find you… well, you will not like it. You must trust me on that. Do you comprehend me?”

  Before Dornauld could say a word, Cortez caught sight of something in his periphery that was moving towards his head and he dropped to his knees in the blink of an eye. Dornauld, however, was not so fast. One of the sheriff’s men had evidently decided to take it upon himself to kill Cortez and the studded club that had been meant for Cortez’s skull missed Cortez completely and sailed right into Dornauld’s face.