Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Claire fought a hot-cold tremor. “He did not like my challenging him, and told me so quite bluntly. However, I left the hall without being harmed.” Indeed, his impassioned kisses earlier in her chamber had been far more of a punishment; he’d roused within her an astonishing craving that still hadn’t gone away.

  “I am very relieved you were unscathed.” Her ladyship was silent a long moment, her thumb and index fingers worrying the fringed edge of the blanket. “You must be careful of him, Claire.”

  “I know.”

  Lady Brackendale studied Claire’s face. “Whether Tye is de Lanceau’s bastard or not, whether Tye can persuade King John to grant him a legitimate claim to this fortress and its lands or not, are matters beyond our control. They will be resolved soon enough. However, Tye is a ruthless, intelligent, and determined man. He is the kind of man who, when he sees something he wants, will take it.”

  Tye had said as much himself. A flush warmed Claire’s face, for she knew where this discussion was leading. “Milady—”

  “’Tis plain to see that he wants you.”

  “It does not matter,” Claire said, a bit too quickly. “He shall never have me.”

  “Can you really be so sure?” Her ladyship sighed, the sound fraught with concern. “Tye is no fool. He may treat you kindly at first, as he woos you and wins your trust. Like all men lusting after riches and power, though, he knows the best way to secure his rule here is to marry and have heirs.”

  “Marry! Have heirs.” Claire twisted the front of her blanket tightly to her breast. “That has naught to do with me.”

  “You are not married or betrothed. Even better for him, you are an orphan.”

  “Regardless—”

  “He will not have to make many inquiries to learn that you come from a distinguished bloodline. You are, sweet Claire, perfectly suited to his needs.”

  “I have no wish to marry him!”

  “He will not care what you want, only how he will achieve his ambitions.”

  This discussion was becoming more and more unsettling. “Milady,” Claire pleaded.

  “I know ’tis upsetting to hear, but you must fully understand the situation. Tye has, regrettably, taken Wode at a time when the King is struggling to maintain his hold over England. As you may have heard, Lord de Lanceau and many of his allies resent the heavy taxes and fines the crown has imposed in recent years, among other grievances. Before he died, Arthur told me that de Lanceau is organizing an important document, a Great Charter that will put restrictions on King John’s powers. The King is aware of this document and, of course, strongly opposes it.”

  “I see.” Claire had never heard of the Great Charter before, but having met de Lanceau, she could see him pursuing such a course if he believed ’twas necessary and just.

  “Lord de Lanceau’s actions pose a significant threat to the King. If King John believes Tye will be loyal to him, and will further the ambitions of the crown, he very well may grant Wode to him.”

  “Surely not! This castle has belonged to Lord de Lanceau’s family for many years.”

  “Especially for that reason.” Her ladyship’s gaze shadowed with unease. “What better way to insult Lord de Lanceau, to demonstrate the King’s superior power, than to grant all rights to the estate to someone else? Not just anyone, of course, but the illegitimate son his lordship has never accepted?”

  Claire gnawed her lip. The situation sounded quite dire, but surely more so for her ladyship, who would be forced from her home, than Claire. “If I understand what you’ve told me, milady, the King can cede Wode to Tye if he so desires. Tye does not need to marry and have heirs to have a claim to the castle. So, therefore, he has no reason to pursue me.”

  A wan smile touched Lady Brackendale’s lips. “’Twould bolster Tye’s petition to the King to say you are carrying his babe—especially if he can claim you lay with him willingly.”

  Shame poked at Claire, mocking her for finding pleasure in kissing Tye. Obviously, his kisses were intended to wear down her resistance to him until she surrendered her innocence; he wouldn’t have to force her, she’d eagerly give him what he wanted. How he must be gloating, for she’d hardly resisted at all.

  Unable to sit still any longer, Claire rose from the bed and hurried over to the fire. Closing her eyes against the bright light of the flames, she fought to find logic in her world that was spinning beyond her grasp. “’Surely, milady, what you have said cannot come to be? Tye told us he is a bastard. He is not the first born son of a married lord and lady. By the laws of England, because he is illegitimate, he cannot inherit.”

  Lady Brackendale laughed, the sound harsh. “If King John wishes to grant Tye this castle and a bride, he will find a means to do so. In the past, the King has used bribes, imprisonments, coercion, and even sanctioned murders to get his way.”

  “Mercy,” Claire rasped, her eyes flying open. What dangerous words. Yet, they showed how deeply Lady Brackendale trusted her, that she’d share such sentiments.

  “Think about it, Claire,” her ladyship said softly. “If given the choice to award Wode to Tye, a rogue the King believes he can control, or de Lanceau, a man he knows is his enemy, whom do you think will get the castle?”

  Without doubt, Tye would.

  Her ladyship rose and moved to Claire’s side. “I know ’tis a lot to consider.”

  “’Tis indeed.” Claire hated how her voice wavered.

  “We can only pray that de Lanceau’s men arrive soon, and that they will crush Tye and his thugs before the King has had the opportunity to grant Wode to Tye. Better yet, Tye will be killed in the fight, and you will not have to worry.”

  Claire’s innards clenched. While she had no desire to wed Tye, she didn’t want him to die, not from gruesome wounds inflicted in battle. She wouldn’t wish that kind of death upon anyone. “I do not want any more deaths at Wode. Besides, surely de Lanceau will spare his son’s life, even if he is illegitimate.”

  “We will see,” Lady Brackendale murmured. She didn’t sound convinced.

  Claire struggled to contain the emotions still roiling inside her. “For now, I will do all that I can to avoid Tye. The less I am around him, the less chance he has to…to…”

  “Seduce you,” her ladyship finished.

  Seduce. Claire fought a moan. Even the hissing, snakelike sound of the word implied temptation.

  The logs on the blaze shifted, stirring up red sparks. Claire jumped, and her ladyship clucked her tongue and touched Claire’s blanket-covered arm.

  “I am sorry to have unsettled you, although what I told you needed to be said.”

  Torn by the sadness and regret in Lady Brackendale’s voice, Claire held her ladyship’s gaze. The older woman looked tired and fragile in the flickering firelight. “You have made me see my situation here in a much clearer way,” Claire said. “For that, I am grateful.”

  Lady Brackendale smiled. “You have always been courageous, most of all in the difficult weeks since Henry was killed. I admire your strength of will. ’Twill see you well through the coming days.”

  “Thank you, milady, but—”

  “—which is why I hope you will stay strong and not succumb to despair. All is not lost here. Not yet.”

  Confusion sifted through Claire. “Forgive me, milady, but the way you explained Tye’s ambitions…”

  “True.” Lady Brackendale huddled deeper into her blanket and her tone hushed to just above a whisper. “However, as I passed the afternoon alone, watching the shadows shift on the wall, I remembered something Arthur once told me. An important detail he had warned me to keep to myself, unless there was a dire need to share the information.” Hope glimmered in her ladyship’s eyes.

  “What detail?” Claire asked, intrigued.

  “In the lower level of the keep are several rooms used for storage. Do you know the ones I mean?”

  “Aye. One holds wine and ale. Another, weapons—”

  “Exactly. There is a secret door
built into the back wall of the chamber used for wine storage. ’Tis part of a hidden passageway that leads to a door in the castle’s outer wall.”

  “I have heard of secret passageways inside keeps,” Claire said. Mary would burst with excitement when she heard of such a passageway at Wode. She’d want to explore it and record the experience in the journal.

  “There are several other secret doors inside the castle, but I cannot remember where they are. My memory… ’Tis not as it used to be.” Grimacing, her ladyship shrugged. “In terms of the passageway in the wine room, the outside door has long become overgrown with vines and ivy. That should not pose a problem. Lord de Lanceau grew up in this keep. He will know where to find the doorway and may use it when liberating the fortress.”

  Claire grinned, her excitement growing by the moment. “We can use the doorway to escape.”

  “Not unless we can get down to the lower level. ’Tis impossible right now with our chambers being guarded day and night. Also, there is the matter of getting through the door at the other end. The foliage outside will need cutting back before the door will open.”

  “I could try, or we could send one of the maidservants—”

  “And have her get all the way to the other end, only to find herself trapped? I cannot imagine the danger if she failed and Tye—or his cruel mother—found her. Such failure would also guarantee that Tye would seal off the passageway so that de Lanceau could not use it.”

  All good points. “’Twill take some considering, then, to come up with a sound plan,” Claire said. “We must do what we can to help. We certainly cannot just sit by and wait for his lordship to rescue us.”

  “I agree.” Lady Brackendale’s eyes gleamed. “We can, at the very least, ensure the doorway in the wine room is unlocked.”

  “Unlocked?” Claire repeated.

  “The key is under a loose flagstone by the rear wall.”

  “I see. Well, I shall try to think of a way to get down to that room.”

  “You will need a convincing reason. Otherwise, Tye will be suspicious.’

  Claire suddenly felt chilled despite the blanket and the heat of the blaze. She’d never been a good liar. She did not want to know what her punishment would be for deceiving Tye. “’Tis not an easy task,” she finally said, her words competing with the crackle of the fire.

  “Not easy at all,” her ladyship agreed with a weary sigh.

  Tye lay on his back in the solar, his arms folded behind his head on the feather pillow, the bedding drawn up to his bare chest. Light from the hearth opposite cast shifting shadows on the chamber walls.

  Earlier, two maidservants had put fresh linens and clean blankets on the bed, working quickly so they could finish and leave. Leaning in the doorway, he’d watched them tuck and fold, while two leering mercenaries stood guard close to the bed. While for the most part Tye trusted the thugs he’d employed, he had wanted to be sure the women didn’t steal any of his belongings or trick the men who, triumphant after the successful siege, were itching to spend their enthusiasm between the thighs of a pretty wench or two.

  On Tye’s final walk of the bailey before retiring for the night, he’d seen one mercenary in a shadowed corner, his hands cradling the breasts of a woman pressed up against the wall, his right leg nudged between her thighs. Her eager moans had followed Tye as he’d walked into the forebuilding. He’d clenched his fists, fought the potent stirring of his blood, for so easily, he’d imagined himself caressing the lush fullness of Claire’s breasts, coaxing those same hungry sounds from her lips.

  Desire shuddered through him. Tye groaned, rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm, and tried to shove all thoughts of Claire from his mind. Aye, he wanted sex, but he needed sleep more. He’d gotten little rest in the days leading up to the attack, and his limbs ached from the day’s exertions in battle, especially his formerly fractured leg, which had healed well enough, but still pained him on cold or damp nights. He needed all of his wits about him on the morrow, for there were sure to be new challenges ahead—including those posed by a bright-eyed, willowy blonde.

  Tye shut his eyes, sucked in a slow, purposeful breath, and then released it. It had been months since he’d slept in such clean, soft bedding. The rope bed with its thick feather mattress was a luxury he’d only experienced in his dalliances with rich widows or wealthy courtesans; most nights, he’d slept on a straw pallet on the floor, with a single blanket to ward off the night chill. Now, each time he inhaled, the sweet scent of sun-dried linens filled his nostrils. The mattress cradled his body. The fire’s hiss and crackle lulled.

  Yet, sleep refused to come.

  Because of her.

  “Hellfire,” he growled, his eyes opening. He flung an arm wide. It thudded down on the mattress, the sound surprisingly loud. A startled rustling noise came from the hearth.

  Guilt coursed through him as he drew back the bedding, rose, pulled on his woolen robe draped at the end of the bed, and walked to the fireside. Ignoring the draft skimming across the floorboards, he squatted beside the wooden screen he’d propped at one end of the hearth. Behind it was a low-sided box, lined with a blanket. A black and white cat lay huddled inside, ears flattened, its golden eyes fixed warily on Tye.

  When he’d investigated the arrow jutting out from behind the barrel in the bailey, he’d found the cat. The unfortunate creature had taken an arrow in one of its back legs. One look at the animal and Tye knew he couldn’t leave it to die. Ignoring the feline’s yowling and clawing, he’d pulled it out from its hiding place. With a mercenary holding the animal still, Tye had removed the arrow, washed the wound with wine, applied salve, and then tied on a bandage.

  “Easy now,” Tye murmured. He stretched out his hand toward the cat. The feline wasn’t wild, for its coat was thick and glossy and ’twas obviously well fed. Earlier it had let him stroke its back and scratch it under the chin, its eyes closing in pleasure. It had also snatched bits of cooked chicken from his fingers.

  The feline hissed and struggled to rise, but its bandaged back leg hindered its ability to move. With a pleased smile, Tye noted the bandage wasn’t bloodstained. A good sign. With luck, the wound would heal quickly.

  He scratched the cat’s fuzzy head. The feline tolerated the attention, its posture still wary. With luck, though, its disquiet would soon ease. Tye said gently, “I will bother you no more. Rest, my friend. I will see you in the morning.”

  The feline made no sound, just flopped back onto its bed. Eyes glinting in the firelight, it watched Tye walk to the table and the waiting jug of wine.

  He downed a mouthful of the piquant red, savoring the burn that ran down to his gut. His mother would think him stupid for rescuing the cat, but he’d felt compelled to do what he could, if only as a tribute to the black and white kitten he’d found in a back alley in Rouen when he was a boy. For a few months, that cat had been his best friend.

  His beloved pet had vanished one day, and his mother had refused to let him have another. “Pets are a distraction. You cannot become attached,” she’d groused, silencing his tearful protest with a stinging slap across his face. “You have more important matters to think about.”

  He drank more wine, even as the pain of losing that pet years ago brushed his heart again. Scowling, he forced the anguish aside. He wasn’t a lonely boy any longer; he was a grown man with a destiny. He couldn’t change his past, but he could make his life now what he wanted.

  His gaze strayed to the solar doors. Claire was only a short walk away. Would she understand how much he’d missed that kitten that had followed him like a dog and slept at his side every night? Somehow, he knew she would.

  Claire. The heat in his groin roused anew, and his hand tightened on the stem of the silver goblet. He longed to kiss her again, to feel her quiver in his arms, to drown in her scent. She was far more than he’d ever deserve, but still, he wanted her for his own.

  He forced himself to turn away from the door. As his gaze slid over the table, h
e stilled, caught by the stack of letters and the journal he’d taken from her chamber.

  What better way to learn how to charm her, tempt her, seduce her, than by finding out all he could about her? Those pages held her secrets; they held the way to win her heart, if he dared to try.

  Since he couldn’t sleep, he might as well make good use of the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Wake up.”

  The man’s voice intruded into Claire’s sleepy mind. Her eyes still shut, she sighed, her thoughts chasing a fading dream. She’d been hurrying through a crowded market, following Henry who was walking ahead. Somehow, he’d been unaware she was behind him. She’d frantically called to him, tried to catch up to him…

  “Claire, wake up.”

  She groaned, for her eyelids were too heavy to open. Lady Brackendale hadn’t been able to fall sleep for a long while, and Claire had refused to let herself drift off until her ladyship was slumbering. It seemed only moments ago that Claire had gone to sleep.

  Sunlight suddenly glowed beyond Claire’s eyelids. Someone had opened the shutters at a nearby window. As Claire stirred, her eyes opening at last, she realized she was still sitting in the high-backed chair she’d drawn up next to the bed so she could talk to her ladyship while the older woman kept warm under the blankets.

  A floorboard squeaked close by, and then someone lifted a length of hair from Claire’s shoulder. Him. Tye came into view beside her, garbed in a dark green wool tunic, hose, and black leather boots. His gaze slid from the hair trapped in his fingers to the blanket curled around her, and then lower. She looked down, to see that a corner of the blanket had fallen to her waist while she slept, exposing her left breast barely covered by her chemise. Because of the crisp breeze blowing in from outside, her nipple had become as round as a berry under the thin fabric.

  She snatched up the blanket and pushed it into place across her other shoulder, concealing all but her neck.