by Hannah West
Her Northern Knight
Norman Lords:
Book Two
By Hannah West
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016
Cover Art by WCD
Chapter One
The winter had been harsh; all the food they had harvested was gone before the siege was even over and many were starving. Even that lady of the castle herself was starving for food because she gave most of hers away to the children.
This had been the fault of the Normans, who had come crawling across the land to conquer that what was never meant to be theirs. Lady Darcee of Castle Blackmoor was angry and it was that anger that had kept her people alive these last six months, but now they had only one of two choices left to them.
Give in to the Norman bastards or starve to death.
That is what the decree from King William the Conqueror had sent this army to tell them. The fact they had slaughtered her brother, heir to this castle, for the sake of being able to take it for their own. But Darcee wasn't letting it go without a fight.
Trained beside her brother her whole life on weapons and war she was every bit as skilled in battle and war as these Normans even if she had never faced any before now. But as she watched her people dying one by one of something that could have easily been changed showed she was weak, but she would never admit the fact.
The only reason she was now in her mail and helm lifting her sword, ready to cut down any Norman who came her way was because her step-mother, the deceitful bitch, had finally escaped her chamber where she had been locked away and made it out of the castle. Once out of the castle she had given away the secret to getting within its walls.
Darcee would rather die on the end of a Norman blade then let them take what was hers now by right of blood.
Her brother's warriors that had stayed behind when he left for war, lined up on either side of her, swords ready and shields up.
Fire blazed on the other side of the outer walls and the battle cries and screeching of metal meeting metal filled her ears and made her grin grimly.
A thundering boom filled the air as men from the outer bailey crashed into the heavy wood door that protected the inner bailey. The wood bowed but held. After three more shuddering crashes the wood splintered and on the fifth it caved in, masses of Norman fighters stormed in crying to the sky as they began to fight her men.
Sword met with a sword, ax for ax and blood for blood.
Darcee felled three men and began to move in on the warrior who sat top his great warhorse looking on at the battle ahead. Ten guards surrounded him and she snuck up on their side. She had quickly made work of two before the others surrounded her. She fought her best and growled in pain when a blade made contact with the metal on her shoulder with bruising force.
"Halt," bellowed the giant warrior atop his horse. His booming voice was so dark and thunderous that all the fighting within the inner bailey halted, all turned to see what this man would do.
Darcee herself was stunned for a moment, watching this giant of a man dismount from his monster of a horse. His long white blonde hair a tangled mess of long braids and his upper lip and chin cover in a light beard, stormy sapphire eyes narrowing on her poor form. He was so very, very handsome and deadly.
And at the moment so very, very murderess as his gaze zoned in on her and smiled darkly.
Without taking a moment more, she lunged away from the brute she had been fighting and lifted her blade against the man now coming for her. His men began to close in, but he waved them back as he drew his board sword. It was so large it looked like a claymore.
Darcee narrowed her eyes. It was a bloody Scottish claymore, six feet of cold, hard, unforgiving steel. It would be no match for her short sword of only two feet; she would have to be fast and quick. The man was nothing more than a large bulk of muscle and would be slow.
"You dare stand in the way of your King's decree, boy?" the giant demanded.
Boy! Why he thought, she was a boy!
She nodded and tightened the grip on her sword.
"Then you will pay the price," he said simply.
Darcee was swift as she lunged and thrust at the man, hitting him in his side and ducking under and going around him. When he turned to face her, surprise flashed on his face before it darkened. He came at her again and this time he landed a blow to her shoulder, biting through her mail and slightly into her flesh.
She felt blood flow and flesh sting but she didn't stop as he rounded on her again and she stuck her sword deep into the ground to give her power as she jumped up and kicked him in the chest sending him stumbling backward.
"Bloody bastard," he hissed and she smiled under her helm.
Now enraged there was no stopping him as he slashed his sword this way and that, meeting her blade. With each blow to her blade Darcee's arms shook under the strain until she could take it no more. She danced to the side of his latest blow and was about to attack his side when he caught her by the arm and wretched her forward.
The Norman bastard had been ready for her move!
With cruel intent lighting his eyes he brought down the hilt of his sword upon her helm causing her to fall to her knees to the ground only held up by his death grip as her helm went flying away.
Her long black locks tumbled down around her and she hissed at the splitting pain in her skull.
"Norman bastard," she spat at his feet.
His shock to find the boy was indeed a woman caused him to drop her to the ground where she gained to her feet quickly and brought her fist to meet his face. The blow hurt causing him to wince, but he grabbed a hold of both her hands and called for two of his men to hold her in place.
He just stared at her for a moment in awe then his expression darkened greatly. It was not a woman’s place to take up a sword and defend the castle and she would pay for her cheek. The nerve to go against him!
"Where is your man, woman," he growled.
Darcee snapped her teeth at him. "I have no man, Norman. You bastards murdered my brother!"
Knowledge lit in his blue eyes now, eyes that were so much like a lion's and now they narrowed again with incredulity.
He was stunned that this beautiful woman with her raven locks and bright honey colored eyes ringed with violet had done what she did.
"You must be the Lady Darcee, I have heard of the likes of you," he growled. "Your stepmother seemed to leave out the part about you wielding a blade other than your wagging tongue!" he snapped. "You will submit to me and to my men and we shall spill no more blood over this foolishness."
"I would rather die, Norman dog," she declared.
His grin was dark. "I have already won, wench. And by decree of our king all of Blackmoor, both land and people are mine. This includes you. He awarded me this land with the condition I marry you. And marry you I shall if you must be trust like a pig and gagged before the priest. Lord knows I will need to do just that."
She gave a cry of outrage.
"Oh Darcee, do shut that mouth of yours," Elnore sighed as her stepmother came into view.
Darcee struggled in rage at the woman. The moment she saw her she wanted to wring her skinny neck!
"You ungrateful bitch!" Darcee railed. "This is the thanks me and my brother get for letting you stay here after Father died? To leave us to the Norman scum that walk this earth?"
Elnore smiled graciously. "Let me? Oh my dear, you two could have done nothing
to get rid of me. After all, I raised you two as my own."
"Raised? You beat us! My brother should have had you tossed out on your ear when he became lord here, but my father begged him. I was remiss only to lock you away in your rooms; I should have had you hung for what you did. You are the one who sent Father to his grave in hopes my brother would marry you. Well, my brother wasn't as stupid as my father to fall for you."
Her stepmother's eyes narrowed on her. "Your father was naught on fifty when he married me. I was only a girl of ten and six and you but a babe of four. Your brother was only eight years my younger!"
Darcee glared at the woman with hate. She had nothing more for the woman. Since this was the life Darcee was now to have she might as well make the most of it. One of her best traits was her ability to adapt to new plans, her father always told her.
Darcee swung her graze to the hulking giant of a man the new king had ordered her to wed. She would indeed believe William had said such a thing.
"I will wed you, no protest, if you rid me of this woman. She may smile prettily and show good manners, but she is a viper in the bosom of my people. It was her fault this happened to my people in the first place! Do this and I shall not contest against you," Darcee told the man who raised his brows at her in surprise then frowned.
He had indeed sensed something was off about the woman, but surely not murdering her lord.
"She poisoned my brother against Father and sent him to fight in this pointless war. If he had not fought, he would still be here and not murdered by you! Do you want proof of what she can do? All you need to do is lift up my mail and tunic and look at my back."
The Norman looked at her in amusement, but didn't move.
"Do it," she snapped.
He sighed. "If I do this and it proves naught you must still not contest with me. Understood?" his anger was wearing him thin as was his tired body that yearned for rest.
With a tight nod, she turned around with the guards still holding her up.
Alrek de Roch, stepped forward sheathing his sword to have both hands-free to lift her mail shirt and tunic. When he lifted them both enough to see her lower back, he felt a shock go down his spine. He had lowered them back down in place before he turned a look of pure murder at the woman who had shown them the way in.
Lady Darcee's back was covered in smooth scars that overlapped and were created by a lash.
"My whole back is covered in them, sixteen years' worth," he heard the girl whisper.
"Take her into custody and place her in the dungeon until I decide what to do with her," he ordered his men who took the woman by the arms and forced her to walk.
"I let you in, we had a deal!" she screamed as she disappeared into the dark hall.
He turned back to Lady Darcee. "Does our deal stands, woman," he barked.
She bit her lip and nodded after a moment. But then shook her head.
He sighed and was about to turn and leave when-
"Wait! I will I vow it, but one more thing I ask of you," she suddenly turned soft before him and pleaded.
"What?" he asked, his curiosity peeked by this strange woman.
"Food. My people need food. They are starving and ‘tis because of the siege and my stepmother having half the crops burned before harvest after my brother left. Our stores and larder are no more."
He grunted with a nod. "Done. Be ready to wed by first light." He turned back to narrow those lion eyes at her. "Try and get out of it and I will let your people starve."
His men dropped their hands from her, and her knees buckled under the pain in her skull, before everything went black.
Chapter Two
The day was dour, a grizzly rain took over the land and fog surrounded the keep. The people of the castle were grateful for the fighting to stop, but they were angry that their lady had to marry such a monster!
But the monster made good on his word and so food was given out to those who came forward. Knights handed out rations from the back of many carts and their lord over saw progress.
Darcee was currently in her room dressing for her wedding which was to come in a few short hours. She proceeded as if she were sentenced to death. It would have been better if she had been. She was a warrior not some silly maiden with nonsense floating around in her head. She was skilled with many a weapon, not a needle!
And the only gown she could possibly wear was one she had treasured after her mother had passed away naught more than ten years ago. It was baggy in the chest area and tight in the hips. Her mother may have had a small waist, but she had a rather large top area to fill.
Darcee sighed. She wasn't meant to be a lady or marry. If only she could have been the second son. Now the man would expect an heir from her. But if it fed her people and kept them safe she had no choice.
Let the brute marry her, he would find out soon enough that all wasn't as it seemed. He thought he was getting a wife, but she wasn't going to be one easily.
Someone started pounding on the door and before she knew it a knight in mail came in and grabbed her by the wrist forcing her to follow him out the door.
"What are you doing," she shrieked.
"My lord commands you come down stairs. The wedding is to beheld as soon as you are done there," the knight said and moved on.
As they went down the stairs she kept trying to pull away.
"I wasn't finished!" she hissed at the man.
Her hair was left tumbling down her back unbound and uncovered. The dress still needed pinned in a few areas, not that that would have helped. The dress looked well used and the once bright colors faded to pastels. She looked washed out and bedraggled, nothing like a lady should at her wedding.
But she couldn't help any of that now. All she could hope for was a husband that didn't beat her as her father had. But her future husband looked just as mean tempered as her father had been.
She was pulled before a fire in the great hall where Father John stood shaking next to the man she would call husband. When the lord saw her his eyes took her in with a flare of displeasure.
Good. Let him hate me as I do him. Father John had always said the devil was beautiful, she now knew he spoke true. Evil did come in a beauteous package.
"Priest," he barked, "let us wed so we can have this over with."
"But, my lord," Father John stuttered, "no banns were read and -"
"Now," growled the man.
Father John jumped and opened his bible, and he started to read.
Darcee zoned out until she felt someone shake her, she looked to the Father.
He repeated his question. "Do you take this man to be your lawful husband, Lady Darcee?"
Never! "Aye," she spit out and glared at her feet.
"Then I pronounce you lord and lady," the priest said shakily.
The giant brute grunted with a nod and he began pulling her toward the stairs.
She tried clawing his hand away. "Where are you taking me?!"
He turned those sharp blue eyes to her. "To your chambers. We are to consummate the marriage and send word to the king." He turned and started to lead her up the stairs once more.
She doubled her effort until he hiked her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
Suddenly tired she gave up and hung limp in his arms. When he reached the nearest door he asked over his shoulder, "Which chamber is yours?"
When she didn't answer he swatted her bottom.
"Which one?" he repeated.
"I will never tell you!" she snapped.
She felt him shrug. "Then it shall be whatever I chose. A cold room with nothing for your comfort. For I shall lock you in it after I am done with you."
"That last on the left," she said quickly. She could feel her courage breaking down. It was really happening and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
Tear stung the back of her eyes.
He found the right door and entered, kicking it closed behind him. He tossed her onto the bed and turned to bolt the door clos
ed. He didn't look at her as he began to divest himself of his armor and mail. He stored it over a chair and started on his shirt. He made the mistake of looking up at her.
Her wide honey colored eyes swam with tears and she sat ridged on the bed.
"Take them off," he growled at her.
He slid his shirt over his head, he took notice of how large her eyes grew looking at his chest. She covered her mouth with a hand.
When she didn't move he said, "If you don't take them off yourself I'll rip them free of you."
She made quick work of the ill fitted dress and was left in her thin shift. She covered her chest with an arm.
He took a moment to take in the woman who was now his wife. Gone was the warrior she had been and now in her place was a young frightened girl. Long black locks tumbled down around her, reaching her waist; a well-rounded waist suited to a beautiful woman. Her eyes grew darker as he took a step closer. Her face was angular, but had soft points, her cheek bones high and brows drawn like a bow, but her lips drew his interest. For her top lip was plumper then the bottom, giving her a permeant soft pout. Her body shape was not the fashion of court and it looks as if she hadn't tried to keep up with such nonsense.
Though more rounded then he liked in a woman, she would do nicely.
"Take it off," he commanded softly.
She shook her head violently. "Nay," she whispered.
He came another step closer. "Now, lass, while my mood is still sweet."
She shook her head slower this time, but said nothing.
If the reports from the king were to be trusted it was told she was no longer a maid, so her actions confused him. It had been told at court before William had become king that his new wife had been the old king's lover.
Alrek wasn't a man who liked leftovers, but when she came with the title of Earl of Blackmoor, Baron of Easton and a hundred thousand pounds, he tended to forgive a few things.
Losing his temper he snapped, "Now!"
She slowly lifted it up and away from her body. She tossed it to the floor and a single tear fell.