England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She shook her head, the tears falling down her pallid cheeks. “Of course not.”

  “Then you must get hold of yourself and carry on in a manner that would honor Keir,” he told her, squeezing her hand. “What you are doing now… wasting away like a weakling… does not honor him at all. You are made of better things than this. Show us all why Keir loves you so much. Show us a strong woman.”

  Chloë wiped at the tears on her cheeks, thinking on his words. After a moment, she nodded. “I… I did not think on it that way,” she said softly. “I was only thinking of my own pain. But you are correct, Kurtis. You are absolutely correct and I beg your forgiveness for being so foolish.”

  He smiled at her and lifted her hand, kissing her fingers. “There is nothing to forgive,” he told her. “But I would like to see you up and dressed. I know Cassandra would also.”

  She sniffled away the last of her tears, composing herself, the twinkle returning to her eyes. “You are a wise man, Kurtis St. Héver,” she smiled faintly at him. “I am glad my sister married you.”

  He returned her grin. “So am I,” he said, feeling greatly relieved that he was able to talk some sense into her. In truth, he was surprised she had listened to him. “Perhaps it will give you comfort to understand that Keir will not see any action for at least three weeks. Right now, he has already arrived in Chester and I have little doubt that he is missing you as much as you are missing him. But he is safe, healthy and whole, so keep that in mind. Right now, Keir is just miserable that he is away from you. Do you want me to tell you a secret?”

  Her eyes glimmered. “Aye.”

  Kurtis stroked his chin and looked around as if afraid his brother might pop from the walls and suddenly over hear him.

  “He took one of your shifts with him,” he confessed. “I saw him pack it – it was very fine, white, and looked as if it had been ripped up. I could see the tattered edges. When I asked him what it was, he said it was your shift.”

  She looked somewhat surprised. “Why would he take it?”

  Kurtis smiled faintly. “Because it is yours,” he said simply. “It smells of you and has touched your skin. He will smell it, sleep with it, and keep you close to his heart. It is something of you.”

  Chloë’s smile grew as she thought on the remnant that Keir had taken. She suspected it was the shift that he had torn from her body the first time they had made love, something she had shoved far back into the wardrobe until she could either repair it or dispose of it, but he had apparently gone hunting for a memento of hers to take with him and found it. It made her blush to think of it but in the same breath, it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

  “I tried to cut some of my hair for him to take, but he would not allow it,” she said, trying to veer the subject away from the lustfully destroyed shift. “Have you ever been to Chester, Kurtis?”

  He stood up from the bed as she peeled the linens back and swung her legs over the side. “Twice,” he told her. “An abominable border town. Full of Welsh.”

  She giggled softly. “You do not like the Welsh?”

  He gave her a pursed-lip expression, one of distaste, looking much like his brother as he did so. “They eat seaweed,” he grumbled. “They mix it with leeks and oil and fry it. They believe it makes them strong and live long. What idiots.”

  Chloë continued to giggle as he moved for the door, realizing the young lady needed to dress and he most certainly did not need to be here. He reached the panel, opening it, casting her a glance before he quit the chamber entirely.

  “I will tell your sister that you are better this morning,” he said. “She went to the kitchen to find you food that might tempt your appetite.”

  Chloë was at the wardrobe, opening the doors as she looked at him. “I am better thanks to you,” she said sincerely. “You have my gratitude, brother.”

  Kurtis winked at her and quit the chamber. Chloë’s gaze lingered on the shut door for a moment, thinking on the new brother she now had and very thankful for him. Although the pain of missing Keir was still great in her heart, Kurtis had eased it somewhat. As she dug through the wardrobe and pulled forth a lovely yellow linen surcoat and matching shift, she thought that she might write to Keir today. It would make her feel even better to communicate with the man.

  Calling for warmed water, Chloë bathed quickly with the rose soap that she and Cassandra had purchased from Kirkby Stephen. She scrubbed her face until it was rosy and brushed her hair until it glimmered. Donning the yellow shift and surcoat, she presented a lovely picture to her sister when the woman appeared a half-hour later with a tray of bread, cheese and fruit.

  “Kurtis told me you had arisen from bed but I did not believe it,” Cassandra said as she entered the room. “How are you feeling?”

  Chloë nodded. “Well enough,” she said, moving to take the tray from her sister. “Your husband did much to convince me that it was not prudent to remain in bed.”

  Cassandra grinned as her sister plopped on the bed and began picking at the cheese. “He is very persuasive.”

  Cheese in mouth, Chloë cast her sister a knowing glance. “I can only imagine, but I will leave you with your secrets.”

  Cassandra laughed softly and sat on the bed next to her sister. “It is no secret that I love him madly,” she said. “Even mother likes him.”

  Chloë’s appetite roared to life as she shoved bread into her mouth and sipped at the warmed wine. “As well she should,” she replied. “And father?”

  Cassandra shrugged. “It is hard to say,” she said. “He spends much time with Lord Byron. I think it is because Byron is the only person who does not chastise him for not allowing you and Keir to marry before Keir left for Wales.”

  Chloë’s movements slowed and her head came up from the tray, her brown-eyed gaze locking with her sister. “I miss him,” she whispered.

  Cassandra squeezed her sister’s arm. “I know you do,” she replied softly, but not wanting the mood to sink, she continued the conversation in a positive fashion. “Kurtis must return to Alnwick Castle soon. Although I know you want to return to Pendragon, would you like to come and stay with us at Alnwick for a while? I could certainly use your help in settling in to my new home.”

  Chloë shrugged, unenthusiastic. “Perhaps,” she said. “I will think on it.”

  “Please do. I would like to have the comfort of my sister in a strange place.”

  Chloë merely nodded as she continued to down the bread and cheese. Seeing that her sister was struggling with her depression, Cassandra rose from the bed and began to pick up the clutter of the chamber, chattering on about anything that came to mind. She was attempting to distract and comfort Chloë in her own way, but Chloë found the unending talk annoying.

  Blanche soon joined her daughters and, upon seeing Chloë out of bed, demanded her youngest daughter accompany her on a walk about the grounds. Having no real choice in the matter, Chloë agreed. Swallowing the last of her meal, she followed her mother from the chamber.

  It was a sunny day, breezy, as Blanche, Chloë, Cassandra, and now Kurtis emerged from the dark and cool keep. Blanche took Chloë’s hand possessively as she walked, remaining silent and composed, just as she always did while Chloë walked beside her mother and looked at the bailey of Aysgarth with some sadness, as it was the last place she had seen Keir before he had departed to Wales. It was a struggle not to allow despondent feelings overwhelm her as she kept reminding herself of Kurtis’ words. Wallowing like a weakling does not honor Keir. She most definitely wanted to honor him, whether or not he was able to see it.

  The warm sunlight beat down upon them, warmer than usual, as they neared the gatehouse. Chloë and Blanche had to maneuver around a few piles of dung and a big hole that was right in the middle of the path of travel between the gatehouse and the stables, but their walk was uneventful for the most part. Kurtis and Cassandra followed behind them, the newlyweds smitten with each other completely. They whispered and cuddled.

/>   Michael appeared as they neared the gatehouse. His handsome face was relaxed into a smile as he bowed to Chloë and Blanche.

  “Ladies,” he greeted. “It is a beautiful day today.”

  Chloë nodded. “Indeed it is,” she said, thinking of Cassandra and Kurtis behind her and hoping there would be no awkwardness or hostility. In fact, she thought it would be rather prudent to separate him from her sister, at least until she could ascertain just how Michael and Kurtis were getting along. “Sir Michael, I have a need to speak with you. Will you walk with me?”

  Before Michael could respond, Chloë let go of her mother’s arm and latched on to Michael’s, pulling him away from her family. She practically yanked the man off towards the stable yard, as far away as she could think to take him.

  “Do you have specific plans on leaving for Pendragon?” she asked the man.

  Michael wasn’t oblivious to what she was doing. He went along with her. “Nothing specific, Lady St. Héver,” he used the title that was not yet hers, watching her look at him with surprise. “I have been instructed to return you to Pendragon at your pleasure. When would you like to leave?”

  She smiled somewhat shyly at him, acknowledging the use of her future title. “I am not sure,” she shrugged. “My sister has asked me to go with her to Alnwick for a time, to help her settle in. What do you think about that?”

  Michael wriggled his eyebrows thoughtfully. “It is not my decision to make, my lady,” he said. “If you wish to go to Alnwick, then I shall go with you. I was instructed to provide your personal protection, always. Where you go, I go, until Keir returns.”

  She looked at him, somewhat hesitantly. “You do not have to go to Alnwick with me,” she said. “Kurtis will provide ample protection.”

  Michael would not be moved. “He will provide ample protection to his wife,” he corrected her. “You would be secondary. Keir ordered me to provide you with my undivided attention and protection, and I shall not shirk nor fail in my duty. If you go to Alnwick, I will go with you.”

  Chloë came to a halt, craning her neck back to look up at the extremely tall man. “You will understand when I say that I do not believe it would be a good idea for you to go to Alnwick in any case,” she said frankly. “With the situation between you and Kurtis, even now we are troubled with keeping the two of you apart. Without Keir here to break up a confrontation, we are understandably wary. To allow you to travel with me to Alnwick, Kurtis’ home, would be both unwise and disrespectful to Kurtis.”

  Michael’s good humor seemed to be fading. It was a struggle for him not to get emotional. “I have no issue with Kurtis, my lady,” he said somewhat subdued. “He is married to your sister. My pursuit of her has ended.”

  “What about your animosity towards Kurtis?”

  Michael averted his gaze, no longer able to maintain eye contact with her. “He won the contest fairly,” he said. “I will not maintain animosity towards him any more than if he beat me in a joust. It was done fairly and it is over. Kurtis is the victor.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Is that all you viewed this as? A contest and nothing more?”

  He met her gaze, then. “What would you have me say, my lady?”

  She wasn’t going to put words in the man’s mouth but she was a little taken aback at his attitude. She shrugged her shoulders. “I would not have you say anything that you did not mean,” she replied. “However, it would seem to me that you would have viewed my sister as something more than a contest. That seems rather cold.”

  Michael was guarded. “You will forgive me, Lady St. Héver, but that is truly none of your affair.”

  Chloë’s eyes snapped to him, with outrage at first, but when she thought on his statement, she realized that he was right. It sincerely wasn’t any of her business. After a moment, she simply nodded.

  “You are correct,” she agreed. “It is not. I apologize. But the fact remains that if I go to Alnwick, you will not accompany me.”

  “The fact remains that where you go, I go. It is Keir’s command and I will not disobey it.”

  She frowned at him. “But I told you my reasons. I will not have you making my sister or her new husband uneasy.”

  Michael was firm. “I am a professional, my lady. I believe I can accomplish my tasks without emotion or bias. If Kurtis or your sister is uncomfortable, it will not be my doing.”

  Her frown grew but she could see that the man would not be moved. He had that same set-jaw appearance that Keir did once a decision was made, firm and unmoving. She scowled a bit, and postured angrily, but she knew there would be no dissuading the man unless she left without his knowledge, and she was sure that would never happen. After the huffing and eye-rolling was finished, she took as firm a stance as he was.

  “Then I will not go to Alnwick,” she said flatly. “We will leave for Pendragon on the morrow.”

  Michael was trying not to smile at her antics for she was truly humorous in her tantrum. “Very well, my lady,” he agreed smartly. “I shall prepare the escort. We will be ready to leave at dawn.”

  “I have several trunks,” she pointed out. “Do not forget to secure a wagon.”

  “I will not, my lady.”

  “And it is possible I will want to shop before we return,” she was deliberately trying to be difficult, just to punish the man. “There is a merchant district in West Witton. I may want to go there tomorrow.”

  “I am not sure Keir would approve, my lady. He is uncomfortable with you outside of the walls of Aysgarth or Pendragon and without the protection that a fortress provides.”

  She jabbed a finger at him. “You will be my protection, will you not? Where I go, you go. You will therefore have to protect me in whatever I wish to do.”

  Michael resisted the urge to scowl at her. “I do not think Keir would approve.”

  She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow. “He would let me do whatever I wish and you know it.”

  It was the truth. Michael pursed his lips at her in defeat. “I will go and prepare the escort, my lady.”

  “You do that.”

  He could see she was being petulant, something that didn’t entirely displease him. He liked a woman with a little fire in her soul. He wasn’t able to maintain his scowl for long and turned away before she could see him break a grin.

  Chloë caught sight of the smirk, however, and fought off a smirk of her own. If Michael of Pembury thought he could bully her until Keir returned, then he had just learned an important lesson. Lady Chloë would not be pushed around or denied her wishes.

  Chloë considered the battle won.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  An angel’s face.

  That was all he could see every time he closed his eyes or every time his mind wasn’t occupied with men and wars. As Keir settled in to his headquarters in Chester, it was a struggle to think of anything other than his longing for Chloë.

  Every hour, every day, saw his longing grow worse until he could hardly breathe. He had told her once that he knew he could love her so much that it would rip his heart and body and soul to pieces to even be away from her for a single minute, and he had been absolutely right. Everything was in tatters and he struggled to keep himself together. He knew it would be hard to be separated from her but he had no idea just how hard.

  He was secured at Beeston Castle, a royal castle manned by five hundred royal troops and commanded by Sir Marcus de Lara of the great marcher lordship family, House of de Lara. Marcus was the brother of the current Earl of Trelystan of the Trinity Lordship. He was a very big man with dark hair, cobalt blue eyes, and was brilliant and well-spoken, but rather mean. Men both feared and respected Marcus de Lara.

  De Lara was very cooperative with Keir, having received directives from the king to ensure that Keir was well supplied and well housed, and within days of Keir’s arrival, men began arriving from all points north.

  As de Lara and his men watched the borders, Keir watched for the incoming armies and began arranging them by si
ze, strength and any special skills certain battalions might have. There were archers, foot soldiers, mounted cavalry, miners or diggers, plus a host of valets, cooks and other servants. Men who were ready to plunge into Wales for their king and fight to the death. Keir was a master organizer and as armies trickled into the massive border bastion of Beeston Castle, he was ready and waiting for them.

  Even though Beeston housed its own significant force, Keir was able to house the incoming armies efficiently. Beeston had one giant bailey that sloped severely in places due to the fact that the castle was built on the top of a hill, so some men ended up being housed on the slopes. As the days passed and men filtered in, the bailey began to fill up significantly to the point where two larger armies from the north had to set up camp outside of the walls.

  After four days of organizing troops and men, Keir finally had a moment to himself away from weary soldiers and brusque garrison commanders. Housed in Beeston’s mighty keep in a small and cramped chamber he shared with de Velt, he summoned a young page as he retired to his room.

  The little boy that answered the call was a ward of the de Laras, no more than four or five years of age, and he firmly told Keir that his name was Tate. Keir smiled faintly at the serious, dark-eyed lad with the handsome features as he sent him for vellum and ink.

  When de Velt entered some time before sunset to prepare for sup, he found Keir hunched over a small table carefully writing out his own missive. Lucan didn’t even have to ask what the missive was about or who it was to; he already knew. Keir would not have left something as important or personal as this to an ordinary scribe.

  “Be sure to tell her than you cannot sleep at night and are keeping me awake,” he pointed out as he casually tossed his helm on his bed. “Tell her I have had to fight you off when you grow lonely for her in your dreams and reach for me.”

  Keir cast him an intolerant glare. “If you ever love a woman, you will understand.”

  “I loved my mother.”