England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Ian’s face was grim, his focus on Bose and his drunken father. “Go with Duncan, love. I’ll… I’ll convince father to listen to your beau.”

  Summer’s expression washed with relief and thanks. “Oh, Ian, would you p-please? Father is being most unreasonable and….”

  “I know,” Ian patted her shoulder, giving her a slight push in Duncan’s direction. “Go and dance. I shall attempt to alter our father’s attitude.”

  Summer continued to gaze at her middle brother, a strong, somewhat calm and even tempered man with a vicious sense of humor. He would have been a stunning and astute eldest brother had Stephan never existed; nonetheless, Summer considered herself extremely lucky to have two such devoted siblings. Three, actually; Lance was rather perceptive and intelligent when he wasn’t wearing a pig mask.

  “I thought you were unsure of Sir B-Bose’s character and motives?” she murmured quietly, ignoring Duncan’s gentle tow on her arm. “Moreover, why would you defend the man who will defeat you in the joust come the morrow, with my insistence no less?”

  Ian’s blue eyes moved to his sister briefly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He will defeat me with or without your insistence,” he pinched her lightly on the cheek, his focus returning to his obstinate father and the massive man attempting to engage him in conversation. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall endeavor to aid your lover.”

  Ian moved away, but not before Summer reached out to grasp his arm gently. Duncan Kerry all but forgotten, her golden eyes glowed at her devoted brother.

  “He did not kill her, you know,” her voice was barely audible. “B-Bose’s wife died in childbirth. You mustn’t believe what you’ve heard about him. He’s quite wonderful and I do believe he shall make a fine husband.”

  Ian’s expression softened somewhat, knowing that she believed in the hulking knight’s innocence with all her heart. Ian’s opinion was much like Stephan’s; he was having a difficult time dispelling four years of rumors regarding the king’s former captain. But from what he had witnessed this day between his sister and the mysterious knight, he was coming to think otherwise.

  He smiled faintly. “As you say, love. But if you do not let me go, I may never get the chance to prove my belief in your convictions of your future husband.”

  Summer watched her brother go, immediately engaging his father in conversation with a firm manner and steady voice. Bose looked to Ian as well, an element of surprise across his scarred face as the middle du Bonne brother lent his support.

  Duncan Kerry tugged again and this time Summer did not resist; all would be well with Ian supporting her cause. He was intelligent and tactful and Edward would have a difficult time spurning the reasoning of the two determined men planted before him; in fact, Summer was relying heavily upon her father’s known weak-willed nature.

  For once, it would be an advantage.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The floor was filled with gay revelers by the time Duncan guided Summer onto the smooth stone. The ballad was light and quick and Duncan immediately took her into his arms at a proper distance and began whirling her across the room.

  The organized dance had taken her to the far end of the room, well away from the head table. As the music flowed through the stale air of the packed hall, Summer was startled when Duncan let her go and another body took his place. Only when a voracious arm went about her improperly did she look up from her feet, coming face to face with small blue eyes and a field of pock-marked skin.

  “Greetings, my lady,” Breck sneered into Summer’s surprised expression, his green-tinged teeth emitting a foul odor. “My brother has indicated his fatigue and has graciously allowed me to finish his dance.”

  Shocked and disgusted, Summer yanked herself free of Breck’s grasp, bumping into another woman in the process. Though she should have apologized to the well-dressed lady, she could only focus on staying clear of Breck’s lecherous company.

  “I-I…,” swallowing hard, she backed away, narrowly avoiding another dancer as Breck advanced. “I am also fatigued. I am sure there is another lady who would b-be happy to dance with you.”

  “I do not want to dance with another lady,” Breck insisted seductively. “I want to dance with you. The most beautiful woman in the entire room.”

  Summer succeeded in backing out of the group of revelers without further collision, nearly tripping over a chair flanking the crowded floor when she finally directed herself clear. She was well across the room from her assigned table and well away from those who would protect her from Breck’s advance. Quickly noting that she was on her own until she could move within sight of the head table, she sought to steady her nerves.

  “I do not wish to dance, Sir B-Breck,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “If you will excuse me, Sir B-Bose and my brothers await.”

  She moved to evade him but he put out an arm, bracing it against a supporting beam and effectively blocking her escape. Summer wrinkled her nose at the repugnant stench of body odor reeking from the man’s tunic, swallowing the bile in her throat as he smiled lasciviously.

  “Sir Bose and your brothers have had the pleasure of your company all eve,” he said. “’Twould be polite of them to share you with your other admirers.”

  A glimmer of impatience took hold. “I have no desire to be shared as if I were a c-common tart for the taking,” she said snappishly. “Move your arm and be quick about it.”

  He cocked a red brow. “My, my, how unfriendly. Mayhap if you came to know me better, your hostile attitude would ease.”

  “I have no desire to know you b-better. Move aside or I’ll call a guard.”

  Breck’s first reaction was to flare; disobedience in a woman was intolerable and he banked the impulse to slap her. Instead, he forced himself to calm for the sheer fact that if he became angry, his goals would most certainly not be accomplished. Duncan had brought the lady directly into his fold; it was now up to Breck to take advantage of the situation.

  “Forgive me if I seem overbearing, my lady,” his manner was calm and sorrowful. “’Tis just that… well, the moment I saw you this morn in the lodges, I swore I had never seen anything quite so beautiful. And I suppose my aggressive actions are merely my emotional impulses gaining the better of my self-control. Truly, I never meant to offend or harm. I would simply like to share a moment of your time. Women don’t usually take easily to me; I am not a handsome man. I have had to learn to be aggressive when dealing with women.”

  Summer listened to his speech. He seemed quite sincere and, being a bit naïve when it came to conniving men, she began to feel somewhat sorry for him. With a sigh, she eyed him closely; indeed, he was an ugly soul and Summer realized she had judged his character based on his pocked appearance and her brother’s ramblings. After she had heard the horrid stories how the man had broken Stephan’s wrist last year, it was only natural that she considered Breck Kerry an individual to avoid.

  Had she believed her brothers’ tales of Bose’s murderous instincts, she would have never come to know the man with the golden heart and gentle nature. Aye, her brothers had been wrong about Bose. Mayhap they were wrong about Breck, too.

  “Very well,” she said quietly. “I am rather thirsty and I suppose we could share a c-conversation as I refresh myself.”

  Breck looked pleasantly surprised. Not merely surprised, shocked. Swallowing his astonishment, his arm dropped from Summer’s path.

  “I… God’s Blood, I suppose we could sit at my table. I’ll have a steward fetch wine immediately,” as Summer moved hesitantly in the indicated direction, a brief glimpse of the courtyard beyond the open hall doors captured Breck’s attention and he stopped her, his wickedly clever mind moving into the realm of more private, intimate surroundings. By all means, man, get her alone!

  “Wait, my lady,” he grasped her gently by the arm. “It is rather warm in the hall. Mayhap a walk in the night air would refresh you more than a goblet of tepid wine?”

  Summer gazed t
o the yawning entry, the landscape beyond bathed in silver light. Drinking wine with the man in a room full of guests was one matter, but strolling alone with him in the moonlight was entirely another and her attempt to make amends for her judgmental attitude was fading fast. Even if the man truly possessed a heart of gold beneath his unattractive facade, he was stinky and aggressive and she simply did not like him. In the light or in the dark.

  “I think not, my lord,” she said truthfully. “I would share a goblet of wine and t-then return to my table.”

  Breck, however, would not be so easily dissuaded. “Come along, my lady,” he grasped her arm firmly, pulling her toward the portal. “A walk beneath the stars will do wonders for your fatigue. We could even stroll to the stables and take a look at my charger. My father had him shipped all the way from Italy.”

  Summer tried to pull away from him, but his grip was tight. Whether or not she was willing, Breck seemed to be leading her directly for the exit. “I do not like horses, my lord. And I am entirely too exhausted to walk about the courtyard. P-Please, can we sit?”

  Breck appeared not to hear her. He continued to drag her across the floor, oblivious to her attempts to break his grip. His boney fingers were bruising the tender flesh of her upper arm and Summer looked in the direction of the head table in desperation; she could scarcely see the end of it through the crowd, but noting that Bose’s wicked mother-in-law apparently had a bird’s-eye view of her situation. She swore she saw the woman smile.

  Summer’s slippers scuffed the stone as Breck pulled her through the opening and into the ghostly light. In the dusty bailey there were several crews of sentries and Summer’s panic faded somewhat; should there be any true aggression on Breck’s part, all she need do is scream for assistance. Therefore, she sharply yanked her arm free of the zealous knight’s grasp.

  “Unhand me,” she said irritably, straightening her mussed gown. “I told you that I did not wish to walk with you.”

  Breck’s face was hauntingly ugly beneath the moonglow. “I…I did not mean to offend. Oft times, ladies say no when in fact they mean the opposite. It is simply a matter of making a firm decision on the lady’s behalf.”

  Summer’s expression was lined with annoyance. “When I declined your invitation, I meant it. I w-would return to the hall this instant.”

  “But….”

  “Now.”

  Breck eyed her, laboring to keep his irritation at bay. Defiant women went against the natural course of the universe and it was a struggle not to punish her for her rebellious demand. In lieu of physical retaliation, he settled for mental instead. It was far more painful if done correctly.

  “Return you to de Moray?” he asked softly, with bitter amusement. “God’s Blood, I cannot believe your father has allowed the man to pursue you given his reputation and dark history.”

  Summer immediately bristled. “I’ll not hear you r-repeat the slanderous lies within my presence, for they are untrue.”

  Breck’s expression washed with a good deal of forced pity. “I have been on the tournament circuit six years, my lady, well before the arrival of Bose de Moray. I have known the man since his appearance and I can only say that I have seen nothing to refute the common hearsay. Suffice it to say that Sir Bose carries a frightening reputation toward man and woman alike.”

  Breck’s aggressive actions forgotten, Summer found herself outraged by his accusations. Unwilling to tolerate his slander, her small fists rested angrily on her hips.

  “His reputation is the result of his mother-in-law’s demented sense of vengeance and nothing more. Her daughter, B-Bose’s wife, died in childbirth and the woman somehow b-blames him for the incident. He did not kill her, Sir Breck. He loved her.”

  Breck’s gaze held even. “So he has told you. What did you expect? Did you truly believe he would tell you the truth of the matter, considering his interest in you?”

  Summer’s jaw went slack with fury. “How dare you say such terrible things! Clearly, you d-do not know him at all!”

  “I have known him longer than you have,” Breck was enjoying her anger. “I have seen him in action all of these years, Lady Summer. I have seen his moods and tactics and his interaction with others. Believe me when I say that the Bose de Moray you know is not the true man beneath. Certainly, I am only concerned with your safety.”

  Summer’s breathing gained pace, her fury spreading like the ripples on the surface of a pond. Of course she did not believe the knight’s lies for one moment. But for the fact that he was continuing to spout his defamation, she was growing increasingly agitated and her stammering began to worsen.

  “You have n-no such concerns,” she hissed, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment and rage. “You are a selfish, p-petty man and I’ll have nothing more to d-do with you.”

  She turned sharply on her heel as Breck reached out, snatching her by the arm. Summer gasped as pain cut though her tender limb, his strong fingers biting into her upper arm. But far more than the pain, the fact that Breck had managed to pull her against his silk-clad chest disturbed her deeply.

  “Listen to me well, beautiful lady,” his foul breath was in her face, gagging her. “My concern is indeed for your welfare. Why else do you think I would risk de Moray’s wrath by seeking to be alone with you? Truly, it was the only way I could attempt to convince you of his cloaking evil. You must understand that he will do or say anything to gain your trust and you must be aware of his tactics.”

  “As will you, I am sure,” her voice was as quiet as it was spiteful. “Release me this m-moment or you will deeply regret your actions.”

  Breck continued to stare at her, his eyes sharp and glittering. “What will it take to convince you, my lady? Your own death?”

  She tried to pull away but he would not release her. Angry, fearful and exhausted, she attempted to slap at him but he effectively quelled her weak attempts. When she continued to struggle, he shook her brutally to cease her squirming.

  “Answer me,” he hissed, his even tone vanished. “What will it take to convince you of de Moray’s evil?”

  “He is not evil,” she grunted, wincing at the fierceness of his grip. “His mother-in-law is the evil one for spreading such lies. And you are evil for b-believing them.”

  Breck was coming to enjoy the smell of her rose fragrance; in spite of her speech impediment, she was a tremendously beautiful woman. Her comeliness was almost enough to cause him to overlook her defect, but truthfully not enough of a distraction. Even so, her soft body and delicious scent were most tantalizing.

  “If I cannot convince you, at least allow yourself to explore the possibilities of the truth,” he said. “Mayhap you should ask his dead wife’s mother for the facts of the matter.”

  Unaware of Breck’s lustful thoughts, Summer struggled not to vomit at the smell of his repulsive breath. “I will not,” she groaned, striving to pull free of his grasp. “She is a b-barbaric, malevolent woman and she shall only fill my ears with more of her fabrications.”

  Breck stared at her a moment, a measure of curiosity taking hold at the implication of her words. “Then…then you have met her?”

  Summer succeeded in pulling one arm free. “Unfortunately.”

  Breck seemed to be unconcerned with the limb she had released from his grip, peering strangely at her as she endeavored to free the other. Knowing from his brother’s information that the isolated young woman had never traveled out of Chaldon’s province, that factor alone led him to believe that the very woman needed to support his cause was not in London as had been speculated. She must be here at Chaldon.

  “When did you meet her?” he asked.

  Summer hissed with exasperation as she struggled to peel his fingers from her arm. “She arrived this morning.” Realizing she would be unsuccessful in removing his hand from her arm, she slapped at the appendage in frustration. “Release me, Breck Kerry. I d-demand it!”

  In the midst of her struggles, Summer never saw the action that sent B
reck to his knees, finally releasing his hold on her arm. Suddenly, he was falling away from her as a great shadow blocked out the silver-cast moon, enveloped them both in an eerie darkness. Strong, gentle hands steadied her as Bose abruptly came into focus, his massive body coiled with fury.

  Brushing her hair from her eyes, Summer was astounded as Bose delivered another powerful blow, sending Breck sprawling to the ground in a spray of blood. As he balled his fist for another punch, Summer found her tongue.

  “Bose!” she cried. “Please… n-no more!”

  Immediately, Bose’s momentum came to a halt and he turned his focus to her. It was the most frightening expression Summer had yet to see on his face.

  “N-No more,” in spite of his dark countenance, she reached out to grasp his arm. “H-H-He… H-H-He….”

  Bose unclenched his fist, straightening from his hovering position over a supine Breck. “Calm yourself, love,” he said, his tender voice far removed from the threatening expression. “Take a deep breath and speak slowly.”

  Swallowing, Summer responded to his gentle tone and her grip upon his arm tightened. As Breck writhed about in the dirt, Summer pressed against Bose’s massive torso, the warmth and power of his flesh calming and comforting her more than anything she had ever experienced. Smiling weakly, she was deeply relieved when he wrapped a massive arm around her.

  “B-Breck is not to blame,” she said quietly, hoping he would not become angry with her. “I accompanied him of m-my own free will. The hall was stuffy and you were b-busy with my father, and B-Breck offered to escort me into the fresh air.”

  Bose’s smile faded. “Did you also give him permission to touch you?”