England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Ian and Lance glanced to Stephan, the men exchanging various degrees of surprise. After a lengthy pause involving deeper deliberations and speculation, Stephan turned away from his mildly-astonished brothers to refocus on his sister. Stroking his chin in a thoughtful gesture, he labored to formulate a careful reply.

  “I see he told you something of himself then,” he said, watching her expression closely. “Did you learn much about him?”

  She sighed, her slender fingers toying with the wooden lattice as she gazed over the compound. “He spoke of his mother. We did not speak of much, truly.”

  Listening to her explanation, Stephan’s fears were somewhat allayed but not his fury. He had specifically asked de Moray to stay away from his sister; obviously, the man was unwilling to obey his request. Before the situation grew out of hand, it was becoming apparent that drastic measures would have to be taken to cleave any further contact.

  Drawing a deep breath for strength and courage, he moved toward his sister. “Summer, in spite of your pleasant contact with de Moray, I believe it best that you stay away from him. I’ll return the pet and collect your favor and….”

  She whirled on her brother, her calm deportment vanished as her eyes widened with immediate outrage. “You’ll do no such thing. I f-forbid you to control my life in such a manner.”

  Stephan sighed, struggling to keep his demeanor composed and caring. “I am not attempting to control you, sweetheart, merely protect you. You must trust that I know best in such matters.”

  “No!” she practically shouted. “You are not my f-father, Stephan du Bonne. If I want to bestow Sir B-Bose with a favor, then it is my decision and not yours.”

  Stephan’s jaw ticked faintly as his composure slipped a notch. “Father will agree with me and well you know it. Summer, you must trust me in these matters. I know far more than you when it comes to the trials of courtship.”

  “Who said anything about courtship?” Summer demanded. “I gave the man a k-kerchief, not a wedding promise!”

  “Listen to him, Summer,” Ian said quietly. “He’s only thinking of your best interests, love. We all are.”

  Summer looked to her brothers. The flush mottling her cheeks deepened and her pretty jaw ticked wildly with emotion. Damn them! They were always trying to run her life, forcing her to their demanding will in every matter large or small. And as an obedient sister, she obeyed them implicitly.

  But not this time. She was determined to do as she pleased, if only this once. She liked Bose; he was kind and noble and chivalrous and she could hardly understand her brothers’ collective resistance to her interest. As she continued to gaze into their stern, if not somewhat compassionate expressions, her anger inevitably gained speed.

  “I thought you would be pleased that I f-found someone to tolerate my difference,” she said quietly, with thinly-reined fury. “Instead, you seek to isolate me from him as well. Will this never stop, Stephan? Will I not be adequate for any man?”

  Stephan’s expression softened dramatically. “God’s Blood, Summer, it’s not your inadequacy at all. You are perfect, sweetheart, truly. It’s Bose we are concerned with.”

  “W-Why?”

  Stephan stared at her a moment, noting her volatile emotions, feeling her shame and curiosity and anguish. Of course she resented his interference; he’d never given her a valid motive behind his brotherly concerns. Mayhap if she were to discover the basis for his objection, she would come to realize his earnest stance.

  “Do you remember yesterday when I mentioned that Bose de Moray possessed less than a desirable reputation?” he asked.

  Summer nodded firmly. “Aye. And I told you that I would not believe the slander, whatever it was.”

  Stephan maintained his gaze a moment before lowering his eyes, scratching absently at his chin. “Allow me to inform you what has been said before you make any rapid decisions. When de Moray came to the tournament circuit four years ago, it was rumored that he left his post as Captain of the King’s Guard under mysterious circumstances,” raising his somewhat hesitant gaze, he fixed his sister in the eye. “It was said that he killed his wife in order to gain her wealth. I am unaware of the circumstances, for the speculation is purely rumor. But as hearsay would have it, it is said that his wife was well and whole one day and dead the next. Immediately after her death, de Moray resigned his post and fled London. He hasn’t returned since.”

  Summer’s anger and outrage transformed into shock of the deepest level as Stephan’s words permeated the fragile membrane of her soul. Mouth open with disbelief and horror, her head slowly wagged back and forth. “I… it’s not true, Stephan. I cannot b-believe it would be true.”

  Gently, Stephan put his hand on her shoulder. “The rumors are said to come from a most reliable source.”

  Brow furrowed with incredulity, Summer’s pain and shock was evident. “Who, for God’s sake?”

  “His wife’s mother.”

  Summer simply stared at him. Stephan gave her a brief, sympathetic smile before removing his comforting hand. Wisely concluding that it was time to leave their sister to her own thoughts, the three brothers moved for the chamber door. Although stunned, Summer still considered the subject very much open for debate.

  “The man I spoke with last night was not capable of such an act,” she said quietly, her voice strangely tight. “I c-cannot believe you, Stephan. I simply cannot.”

  The three brothers paused by the door, the two younger men looking to their older, wiser brother to refute her statement.

  “Even if you do not believe me, I ask that you trust me all the same,” he said quietly. “Have I ever lied to you, Summer? Have I ever done you wrong?”

  Golden eyes met those of soothing green, the pain from her gaze cutting deep into his heart. Bose de Moray had been the only man she had ever truly known outside of her immediately family, a dashingly dark knight who had stolen her naive little heart with his gallant actions and gentle pursuit. A heart Stephan was now smashing to pieces.

  “Nay, Stephan,” her reply was soft. “You’ve never done me wrong.”

  Stephan opened the door, ushering his brothers through. Now that the crisis was past, it was time to focus on the approaching joust and they were eager to move from a most depressing confrontation with their young sister. Just as Stephan moved to close the door, Summer’s quiet voice brought him to a halt.

  “I’ll tell him, Stephan,” her whispered words were barely audible. “If I am to take b-back my favor, then I would do it myself.”

  Although against the idea, Stephan nonetheless nodded with hesitant agreement. “After I have donned my armor, we shall seek him. Acceptable?”

  Summer could hardly manage the energy to acknowledge him.

  “I shall speak with him alone,” she murmured, gazing toward the latticed window and listening to the faint sounds in the bailey. “Do you understand?”

  Again, Stephan nodded, knowing how hard this was for her. “As you say, sweetheart,” he replied softly, closing the door as he spoke. “Genisa will be here in a few minutes to help you dress.”

  The door latched shut with a faint click, leaving Summer alone with her tumultuous thoughts. Although her first instinct was to refute her brother’s statements, she was forced to admit that, indeed, Stephan had never lied to her. He had always protected her.

  Until yesterday, she had been quite content to remain protected. But that was before the appearance of Bose de Moray; suddenly, Summer sensed there was more to life than her isolated existence at Chaldon. The massive knight with the onyx-black eyes and lopsided grin had affected her.

  Sighing heavily, Summer unlatched the lattice and gazed onto the bright countryside below, catching sight in the distance of Bose’s black and white tent. Leaning against the cold stone, she closed her eyes to the soft sea breeze caressing her face. Aye, she would speak with him, requesting her favor returned unless he had an answer to her brother’s disturbing suggestion.

  Do not let the
rumors be true. For once, let Stephan be wrong.

  *

  “Tell me more, Bose. After you found Antony with Lady Summer, what happened?”

  Standing with his arms aloft as his Squire of the Body went about securing his breastplate, Bose refused to look at an overly eager Tate.

  “Nothing happened. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I escorted her back to the keep. God’s Beard, Tate, I already told you this. I told you last night and this morning, too. There is nothing new to add.”

  “But you gave her Antony, for God’s sake. If there was hardly more than a few pleasantries exchanged, what on earth possessed you to gift her with your beloved ferret?”

  Bose continued to watch the lad as he straightened the mail beneath the plate protection. “As I told you, she had found Antony wandering loose among the tents. When I happed upon them, they were getting along quite famously and it was obvious that he preferred her gentle touch to mine. I can hardly blame the beast.”

  Tate pondered his answer a moment, thinking the calm reply to be unemotional. “What is she like, then?” he persisted. “If you delivered her your most prize pet, surely she is entirely wonderful.”

  Bose let out a slow, weary sigh as Tate fidgeted like a giddy young boy. “She is. A delightful, wonderful woman.”

  In the corner, already dressed for the approaching joust, Morgan shook his head in a patient gesture. “You already told him that. For the love of God, Bose, tell him more before he bursts a vein.”

  Tate grinned at the older knight, knowing the man wanted to know the gory details of the encounter just as badly as he did but was far too dignified to say it. Instead, he would allow Tate to make a fool of himself.

  “There’s nothing more to tell, I say,” Bose insisted as his squire carefully secured the final latch. “We met, we spoke, and I took her home. End of story.”

  “Except for the favor,” Morgan reminded him, chuckling softly when Bose cast him a menacing glare.

  “Ah, yes, the favor,” Tate delved into the delightful little detail. “Tell me how you acquired it. Did you demand it from her? Beg? Plead? How did she give it?”

  “With her hand,” Bose supplied drolly.

  “That’s not what he meant,” Morgan put in.

  “I know what he meant,” Bose snapped in his first show of irritation, lowering his arms as his squire finished the smaller details of armoring. “There is nothing more to tell, truthfully. I asked, and she was gracious enough to comply. As I said before, she is a beautiful woman with a beautiful personality. And if you behave yourself, I just might introduce you someday.”

  Tate snorted, crossing his arms and stepping aside as the young squire handled the massive broadsword. “God’s Blood, she is so beautiful I’d surely turn into a blathering idiot at the sight of her. How did you speak with her and not collapse completely?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Bose admitted, adjusting his broadsword as the squire secured it loosely. “She has the most amazing golden eyes. And she possesses a surprisingly droll sense of humor.”

  Morgan watched his liege, elaborating on last eve’s encounter far more than he had all morning. Knowing that by the sheer tone in Bose’s voice, the man was smitten. “And, naturally, she enchanted you.”

  “Naturally,” Bose agreed, although it was done without a hint of remorse or emotion. “I would’ve had to have been a corpse not to have responded to her charms.”

  “Did you kiss her?” Tate could hardly refrain from asking.

  Bose cocked an eyebrow, a restrained scowl crossing his rugged features. “Aye, Tate, I kissed her and ravaged her and left her for rubbish.” When Morgan laughed softly at the sarcastic reply, Bose shook his head at Tate’s foolish question and moved to claim his helm. “God’s Beard, you’ve got me bedding the woman already and we’ve only just met.”

  But Tate was undeterred by his lord’s irritable response. “Were it me, I most definitely would have bedded her by now.”

  Bose grasped his helm in one hand. “That is the difference between us, my friend. I have more respect for a woman than you do.”

  Tate shrugged as if in agreement. The joust was rapidly approaching and Bose had been selected in the draw as the first combatant against none other than Breck Kerry. Knowing the man needed his concentration for the coming event, Tate stopped his questions. There would be time enough later to pester Bose with his curiosity.

  Farl, Adgar and Artur were already outside, making sure the mounts were properly prepared. As the three men inside the tent exited the shelter, Farl appeared in the opening and nearly ran Bose down in his haste. Bushy red mustache twitching, his faded green eyes focused intently on his liege.

  “You have a visitor, my lord,” he said with more excitement than he had exhibited in a long while. “A lady visitor.”

  Bose’s usually emotionless face slackened. “What lady?”

  Farl’s weathered eyes crinkled with mirth. “A certain young lady with a ferret that looks remarkably like Antony.”

  Bose was out of the tent before he could draw another breath, ignorant of the equally-eager entourage behind him. Rounding the corner of the black and white shelter, the young woman and her brother came into view and at that moment Bose was reminded of the crowd gathered in his shadow; he swore he heard a collective sigh of appreciation go up. Momentarily distracted from her radiant presence, he turned to scowl fiercely at the collection of loyal knights.

  “Away, vultures,” he growled. “I would speak to the lady alone.”

  Farl turned to obey, plowing into Tate and nearly taking the man to the ground. Grasping hold of the bewitched young knight, he pulled him along as he made haste away from Bose, leaving Morgan to casually vacate his liege’s company. After casting the lady a lingering glance, the older knight wandered away and Bose drew in a deep breath for strength and composure, turning once again in the direction of the lady.

  God’s Beard, she was more beautiful than he had remembered. Approaching as casually as he could manage, he was well aware when Adgar abruptly moved past him, discreetly dispersing the squires and servants who had collected in a crowd to stare at the magnificent lady. Only Artur remained, speaking with Stephan as Summer’s golden gaze fixed upon the approaching warrior.

  Bose acted as if Stephan were invisible as he came to a halt before Summer. “My lady,” he said as smoothly as he could. “I did not expect to see you again so soon. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  Summer met his smile, her gaze oddly hesitant. She tore her eyes away from Bose’s sharp black orbs, looking to her brother to silently beg the man’s departure. Bose, too, looked to Stephan, not surprised to note his hostile expression.

  “Stephan,” he greeted steadily. “I see that you are prepared for the joust. The fourth round, is it?”

  Stephan had no intention of replying until Summer’s beseeching gaze coerced him into a strained response. “Aye.”

  Bose nodded faintly in acknowledgement, unoffended by the man’s lack of manners. If the situation were reversed and it had been Stephan du Bonne disrespecting Bose’s wishes by pursuing his young, beautiful sister, Bose would not have been quite so composed. Deadly would have been closer to the mark.

  Therefore, in lieu of meeting Stephan’s challenging gaze since he honestly could not fault the man his outrage, he returned his attention to Stephan’s exquisite sister. The twinkle reappeared in his eye as he once again drank in the sight of her loveliness.

  “Is there a reason for your visit, my lady?” he asked pleasantly. “Or did you come to distract me from the day’s event?”

  The familiar blush returned to her cheeks, far more radiant under the early morning sun than it had been beneath the cold gray moon.

  “I came to speak with you, my lord,” she said quietly. “Stephan was gracious enough to escort me even though he is extremely b-busy with preparation for this morn’s joust.”

  It was a hint for Stephan to leave her alone with the massive knight, but
her brother refused to heed the roundabout request. His eyes still riveted to Bose, there was no mistaking the tension in his voice as he spoke.

  “Summer, I have a need to speak with Sir Bose before you commence with your conversation,” he said evenly. “Please leave us alone for a moment.”

  With great hesitance, Summer cast her brother a long glance before quietly excusing herself, moving several feet away. Artur, seeing his opportunity arise, made sure Stephan maintained his focus on Bose before discreetly moving toward the lady. Bose’s focus was on Summer’s brother.

  “You wanted to speak with me, Stephan?” Bose braced himself.

  Stephan did not hold back. “I have been led to understand that you disobeyed my request that you leave my sister unmolested,” his voice was as cold as ice, biting and hard and severe. “Fair enough. I cannot fault you a true desire to pursue the object of your interest. What I say now, I say not because your rebellious actions have offended me. I say it because my sister’s welfare is my utmost concern.”

  Bose nodded his head. “Continue.”

  Stephan’s voice was reduced to a threatening whisper. “I know nothing about you. But what I have heard through rumor and hearsay I must say I find exceptionally disturbing. Although I do not pass judgment on you, I must trust my instincts where my sister is concerned. You will stay away from her, as I have asked, or I shall take steps to ensure she no longer has any further contact with you. Do you understand?”

  Even though Stephan had not defined the rumors, he did not have to; Bose knew what he was speaking of. It was difficult to maintain his composure as he met Stephan’s unfriendly gaze.

  “Is that why you came?” he asked quietly. “To threaten me with violence if I do not sever all contact with your sister?”

  “I came to demand you stay away from her.”

  “And what of your father? Surely he has supreme say in all matters regarding the lady.”

  “My father agrees with me, which is why I have been chosen to deliver the message, warrior to warrior. Mayhap you will understand the message more clearly.”