Castles, Knights, and Chivalry: 4 Medieval Romance Novels

by Ruth Kaufman

  Again he studied her a long moment then slowly nodded. “I am weary.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Nay, but I am a bit light-headed.”

  She looked to the wagon. “Perhaps I should fetch one of the lads inside to drive the wagon back.”

  He too looked at the wagon. A devilish spark ignited and he smiled at her. A warning shiver skittered down her spine. Dear Lord in heaven, his expression meant nothing but trouble.

  “No need, lassie,” he said and extended his hand to her. “For ye shall drive the team back.”

  “Me?” she squeaked. “Ronan, I barely know how to ride a horse.”

  “Worry not, I will help ye.”

  Lia swallowed hard, looking at the giant horses in terror.

  Ronan stepped closer to her, his body only inches from hers. She could not help herself as she inhaled deeply. He had such a pleasant scent—spice and leather. He lowered his head, his lips a scant distance from her ear. “Lassie, I demonstrated my faith in ye and told ye true. Now I pray ye have faith in me.”

  How could she deny him? She swallowed hard and nodded.

  His smile grew and he extended his hand to help her into the wagon. “Slide over just a bit, but not too far.”

  She did so and he levered himself into the wagon, although she noted this time he appeared to struggle. He managed to settle himself on the bench and picked up the reins. The horses tried to automatically go forward, but he had not released the brake on the wagon.

  “Ho there, lads,” he said sternly.

  The horses quieted. Ronan reached out with his right arm and wrapped it around Lia. Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her tight against his side. His arm remained around her and her heart pounded wildly.

  “Now, lassie, take the reins.” He showed her how to hold them. One horse tugged its head downward and nearly yanked her from the bench. Ronan’s hands covered hers and his strength enabled her to control the beast.

  “There,” he said softly. “Ye see? Between the two of us, we shall do just fine.”

  She swallowed hard and looked up at him. “Are . . . are you sure, Ronan?”

  He grinned down at her, his smile brightening his face. With his left foot, he released the brake on the wagon. “Get up!” he barked. The wagon lurched forward. His hands tightened over hers, his arm firm around her shoulders, keeping her tucked neatly against him.

  Lia wanted to scream but was afraid of spooking the horses.

  “Give them their heads a bit, lass,” Ronan said, encouraging her to loosen her death grip on the reins. “They will do their jobs if ye only let them.”

  She did as he asked, but her heart pounded so wildly she was certain he could feel it.

  Ronan helped her steer the horses into the center of the road leading back to the castle. They were only walking, but the pace seemed entirely too fast for her.

  “Let them trot,” he said.

  Again she looked up at him, trying to think through her fear. His face was pale, but he looked at her and gave her an encouraging smile. Suddenly, she understood his intent. Trust was not given, it was earned. If he was to have faith in her, she needed also to demonstrate her faith in him. She felt her smile grow as she gazed up at him then looked at his hands covering hers. With Ronan helping her, she would be able to control the team if they unexpectedly spooked. She could do this.

  “Get up!” she told the horses.

  The horses started to trot and Ronan’s deep laugh sounded beside her. She felt it rumbling through his body as his arm tightened around her shoulders.

  They returned to the castle and Lia decided it was all too quickly. Ronan helped her slow the team and navigate the crowded bailey.

  “If ye need them to make sharper turns, use the commands haw and gee,” he said. Lia did so and discovered the team very responsive. He had been right, they would do their jobs if she only allowed them. They stopped before the stairs of the keep, and a page stepped forward to hold the team while Ronan set the brake.

  “Ye did well, lassie,” he said as he slowly made his way down from the wagon. He extended his hand to her.

  She wrapped the reins around the brake handle as she had seen him do earlier. Ronan’s smile grew as she accepted his hand and jumped off the wagon.

  “That was quite enjoyable,” she said, grinning at him. “Perhaps we can do it again?”

  “Of course, my bonny lass.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, but this time she realized he was leaning heavily against her. They walked to the base of the stairs and he looked up at them, his smile vanishing. “Why is ascending so much more difficult than descending?”

  “It is simply because you are weary,” she said, but she too looked at the stairs in concern. “Why must they be so narrow? I cannot help you ascend because they are not wide enough for two people.”

  “’Tis the intent of the design,” Ronan said. “The keep must stand strong in the midst of war. If the enemy breaches the gates, they will only be able tae attack the keep one man at a time. If ye observe the loopholes above, we can drop things on their heads, and the narrow, uneven stairs make it easier for them tae fall off the edge.”

  She nodded but looked at the stairs warily. “That still does not help our predicament.”

  Ronan gazed at the stairs and his expression hardened. He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath into his lungs. Before she could stop him, he began to ascend the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane but putting his left foot forward, following it with his right, in an even cadence.

  Lia gritted her teeth and followed him. Please don’t let him fall, please! If he tumbled backward, she might be able to stop his fall, but if he pitched over the side, there was no way she would be able to hold on to him.

  But Ronan ascended the stairs with the same determination she had witnessed before. He reached the door to the keep then threw it open and stepped inside. As Lia followed, she watched him stagger slightly and she stepped forward, again catching his arm and pulling it over her shoulders.

  “Impressive.”

  Ronan gave her a halfhearted smile but his face grew even paler.

  “MacGrigor?” Alba called timidly.

  He mustered a bolder smile for her. “Aye, lassie?”

  “James said he would meet with ye anon.”

  “Excellent.”

  She studied him nervously for a moment. “Are ye all right?”

  Lia’s heart soared. If Alba was worried over him, this could be an excellent sign.

  “I . . . ” He hesitated and glanced at Lia. “I fear not, lassie. Is Aidan about?”

  “Aye,” she said and nodded. “He awaits ye in yer solar. I will fetch him.”

  Before Ronan could reply, she fisted her skirts and bounded up the stairs.

  “I’ll be damned,” Ronan muttered and looked at Lia, grinning broadly. “Ye have worked miracles lass.”

  She gave him an arched look. “I’m not done yet.”

  Ronan’s laugh sounded deep and strong.

  “Ronan,” Aidan called. “Are ye all right?”

  Alba descended the stairs behind the young MacGrigor. Lia caught her eye and smiled. “Thank you, Alba.”

  “Aye, Alba,” Ronan said quickly. “Thank ye, lass.”

  Alba blushed and hurried back to the sick in the great hall.

  “Ronan?” Aidan asked again.

  “I fear I need yer assistance, brother. I place too great a burden on the healer’s shoulders.”

  Aidan glanced at her, his eyes wide. “What have ye done tae my brother?” he whispered. He moved to Ronan’s other side, and together, he and Lia helped Ronan up the stairs.

  The church bells rang for Nones as they crested the last stair.

  “Are ye hungry, Ronan?” Aidan asked.

  Ronan simply glanced at him and Aidan laughed.

  “Never mind, I shall fetch our meal.”

  “Alba said ye awaited my return.”

  “Aye, brother, my b
irds be singing again.”

  “Then ye shall tell me of their song as we eat.”

  They helped Ronan to a chair at the small table in his solar. He sat back with a sigh and stretched out his sore leg, rubbing it gingerly. Lia pulled a chair closer.

  “Let’s take your boots off before it swells more. Aidan, while you’re below stairs, can you douse some linens in cold water?”

  “Aye, lassie,” he said and darted out the door.

  Ronan leaned back against the chair but sucked in his breath sharply as the wounds on his back made contact with the hard wood. He cautiously readjusted then rested his head against the chair back. “Will my stamina ever return?”

  “It will,” she said, feeling his forehead. She scowled; his fever was low, but it was definitely still there. She paused and studied him a long moment. “You really need to rest.”

  “I will, but my belly be gnawing at me again.”

  She nodded slowly but worried over what news Aidan had for him.

  It didn’t take long for Aidan to return. Lia took the doused linens while Aidan placed their food on the table. She gently draped them over Ronan’s sore leg. He sighed softly as the cold gave him immediate relief.

  “See?” she said, grinning up at him. “I told you they would help.”

  “Aye,” he said giving her a gentle smile. He rested his head against the chair again, but this time he closed his eyes, no longer able to hide the exhaustion that etched deep lines in his face.

  “Perhaps this should wait,” Aidan told Lia.

  “Nay,” Ronan said before Lia could reply, although he kept his eyes closed. “If ye dinna tell me, I’ll only worry myself tae death.”

  Aidan sighed and placed a plate of food before Ronan.

  Ronan’s nose twitched and he blinked open his eyes, gazing at the bowl hopefully, but as he stared at it, his hope seemed to fade.

  “What’s wrong?” Aidan asked. “I thought roast pheasant was one of your favorites.”

  “It . . . it used tae be,” Ronan said softly. “Perhaps my tastes be changing as I get older. But where are my manners? Thank ye, Aidan.”

  They ate in silence, but Lia found herself keeping one eye on Ronan. He ate slowly, but the color did not return to his face as she had hoped. His eating slowed even more until he dropped the bird’s carcass onto his plate and pushed it away only half-finished.

  “Ronan?” she asked.

  He waved her off, refilling his wine cup. “Sometimes my stomach needs tae catch up with me,” he said and took a drink. “I will get hungry again in a moment.”

  Curious, her thoughts whispered.

  “Aidan, I can stand no more suspense.”

  Aidan nodded and swallowed his bite, also taking a drink from his wine cup. “I ken ye were quite vexed with MacLaren about the blighted grain.”

  “Aye,” Ronan said tightly, his expression turning flat.

  “Gordy gave me some news. Ronan, MacLaren didn’t grow that grain. He purchased it as well.”

  “Purchased it?”

  “Aye. He purchased it with the intent tae sell it all along and hopefully make a bit of profit. Remember, everyone suffered shortfalls last harvest. Gordy does not believe MacLaren kenned the grain was blighted.”

  Ronan rubbed his eyes.

  Lia watched him closely. His hand shook ever so slightly.

  “Who did he buy it from?”

  “Gordy dinna ken, but he is working tae find out.”

  “Make sure he discovers the truth, for if MacLaren did ken the grain was blighted, I’ll feed him his own entrails.”

  Aidan nodded. “And Gordy had more information for us.”

  “Aye?”

  “Longshanks is on the move again.”

  “Damnation, and le March?”

  “Moves with him, but here is the strange bit: Gordy said another of my birds told him le March wishes tae attack MacGrigor.”

  “Considering I escaped him, that is no surprise.”

  “Longshanks refuses. It seems some in his army have heard tale of a Demon Laird. They worry about their men. The soldiers fear what they dinna understand.”

  Ronan sat up sharply. “Just as our own clan,” he said. His brow furrowed. “I must think on this, Aidan.”

  Aidan nodded and took another drink. “That be all the news I have for ye today.”

  “Thank ye, brother.” He looked to his meal again, but where Lia hoped he might eat some more, he simply pushed the plate farther away. “I fear I dinna have the stomach for this right now. Perhaps I should follow the lassie’s suggestion and rest.” He removed the damp linens from his leg and rose, leaning heavily on his cane.

  Lia looked at Aidan in alarm and he matched her gaze.

  She rose from the table, taking a breath to call out to Ronan.

  Ronan lurched forward slightly, then his body froze and he ground to a halt. He started to look over his shoulder at her but suddenly pitched forward.

  Thank God Aidan was faster. He reached his brother in an instant and stopped his fall.

  “Ease him down,” she said.

  Aidan did so as Ronan’s body jerked out of control. Lia knelt with them, working to deflect Ronan’s arms so he would not strike her or Aidan. Aidan sought to trap him, but Lia stopped him.

  “Nay,” she said. “Do not try to hold him down. That only risks injury to both you and him. Just keep him from striking you or himself.”

  Tears burned her eyes as she watched the fit take Ronan. Froth formed on his lips and he gagged and choked. “Turn him on his side,” she said and helped Aidan.

  Aidan’s face was almost as gray as his brother’s, but Lia knew they could do nothing except wait for the fit to pass.

  It not only continued, it grew worse. Ronan’s arm escaped Aidan’s grasp and flung outward, striking Aidan full in the face and knocking him backward. Aidan shook his head and rolled back to his knees, working to block his arm again, lest Ronan strike himself or Lia.

  Lia’s heart raced; she couldn’t remember seeing a fit this bad. It seemed the longer it lasted, the more severe it became.

  “It’s never gone this long before,” Aidan said through clenched teeth.

  “It will be all right.” But she couldn’t stop herself as a tear rolled down her cheek. What was wrong with her? Never had she acted like this. But Ronan’s suffering tore at her soul. He continued to flail and Lia reached out, gently stroking her fingers through his hair.

  “Ronan,” she called softly. “Peace, Ronan, you are safe.”

  She repeated the words, keeping her voice soft and even.

  Finally, the fit faded and Ronan fell limp against the wood floor. He sucked in a ragged breath followed by a second.

  “Praise be,” Aidan whispered.

  Uncaring of what Aidan thought, Lia gathered Ronan in her arms and pulled him tight against her. “It’s all right, Ronan,” she whispered rocking him gently. “You are safe. You are at home.” But no matter her words to him, she could not stop the tears that streamed down her face.

  Chapter Nine

  Ronan finally understood why Lia had scolded him so much in regard to overextending himself and not minding the healing wounds on his back. Two days had passed since the last fit, and although he remembered nothing of it, Lia and Aidan had told him of its length and severity. It had frightened them, he knew, and if he could remember any details, it probably would have frightened him too. As it was, he had not yet truly recovered from it.

  Weakness plagued him, so much so he barely had the strength to rise from his bed and sit at the table in his solar. He resolved to heed Lia’s warnings more diligently in the future. He hated being trapped but could not find the strength to clothe himself, let alone negotiate the stairs. This would not happen again, he decided.

  Aidan sat with him while Lia attended the ill in the great hall and the village. While she still wanted to watch and observe him, accompanying her was now out of the question. Instead, she gave that duty to Aidan, noting
his powers of observation would be put to good use.

  At least the ill seemed to be constantly improving, with fewer in the great hall and in the village. Soon, Ronan would have her all to himself. His lips tugged upward as he realized he could live with that.

  “What?” Aidan asked.

  Ronan waved him off. “Any new songs from yer birds?”

  Aidan ducked his head and fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. “Lia didna want me tae tell ye.”

  “Aidan, if it be something that affects the clan—”

  “If it be something dire, I will tell ye,” Aidan said quickly. “But until ye are stronger, she doesna want ye vexed.”

  Ronan sighed and took another drink of his wine, reminding himself of his promise to listen to her warnings.

  The church bells rang for Nones and Ronan’s belly rumbled. “What be takin’ her so long?”

  Aidan shrugged. “She mentioned something about preparin’ yer meal today.”

  Ronan scowled at him. “She said the wounds on my back are improving. There are only two bein’ stubborn with their festering.”

  “Aye, I’m certain ye will be feeling much better as soon as the fever leaves ye.”

  A soft knock, one that Ronan instantly recognized as Lia’s, sounded. “Enter.”

  Aidan rose and Lia opened the door.

  Ronan blinked in surprise as Alba stepped through the door along with Lachlan, both carrying roundels with a great assortment of food. Lia carried two more.

  “What be this?” he asked, trying to ignore how Alba eyed him warily.

  She placed the food on the table and bobbed a quick curtsey. “Is there anything else ye be needin’?”

  Ronan looked to Lia.

  “Nay, Alba, thank you.”

  “As ye will.” She darted out the door.

  “At least she actually entered the solar this time,” Ronan muttered as Lachlan set the roundels he carried on the table.

  Lachlan grinned at him. The lad was proving more courageous than the others, even agreeing to help Ronan shave in the morning, although Ronan marveled that the lad barely knew how to do it himself.

  “Thank ye, Lachlan.”