The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was an hour before sunset. He had been in his sister’s chamber since just after sunrise. Over the past nine days, they had spent an indeterminate number of hours talking about so many things he could hardly keep track. It was the most time he had ever spent with his sister at one time and, in spite of the circumstances, he had enjoyed it. Gabrielle had kept him calm and occupied and, for that, he was grateful.

  But on this ninth day, He is spent his waking hours resigning himself to a long wait. When Gabrielle was summoned to help with the evening meal preparation, Garren excused himself and wandered to the entry hall of the abbey. He wasn’t allowed anywhere else. He stood there a moment, muddled and unfocused. Thinking that he should perhaps check on his horse to occupy himself, he opened the door and stepped out into the fading sunlight.

  The horse was tethered with some other animals in a small shelter the abbey used for a stable. Garren wandered through the ward, glancing up into the trees when he heard a hawk cry. The branches over his head were thick with greenery and moisture, filtering the weak rays of the sun. He was nearing the stables when he heard the abbey gate swing open and shut heavily. Knowing some of the nuns had been out in the trees gathering mushrooms, he didn’t give the squeaking gate a second thought. He was learning to control those impulses that had him running to the door every time he heard the iron-clad sound of the gate.

  The horse’s hindquarters were facing him. He put his hands on the beast and shoved it sideways. Ever since his trip to Framlingham, the horse had shown a tendency to come up lame on the right front leg and he wanted to check it again. The horse was still favoring the leg, but not nearly as it had been. He was deep in his inspection of the fetlock when a voice filled his ears, a sweet note that he thought he surely must have dreamt. He heard it again, louder this time, and some familiar part of him inside ignited like a roaring flame. Someone was calling his name. He looked up from the horse’s leg and turned around.

  Derica stood several feet away, dirty, disheveled, with tears streaming down her face. She said his name again, so choked she could hardly speak, and Garren nearly came apart.

  Somehow, he managed to stumble over to her. It was odd how everything seemed so dreamlike, as if time itself had slowed. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. But the moment he touched her, the dream burst and she was very real and very warm. He pulled her into an embrace that threatened to crush her.

  “Derica,” he whispered. “My God… are you real?”

  She was sobbing. “I am.” Her arms were around his neck so tightly that she was in danger of strangling him. “Garren, I have missed you so. I did not know you would be here. Fergus said….”

  His bruising lips cut her short. In a short matter of seconds, his mouth was on hers, kissing her as if he had been doing it all of his life. She was sweet and soft and he kissed her until she gasped for breath.

  “You have no idea how I have longed for you, how much I have thought of you,” he murmured in between heated kisses. “The day I walked from Framlingham I was sure that my life was over.” He paused, holding her face in his hands, drinking in the sight of her. “My God, you are more beautiful than I had remembered.”

  She smiled through her tears, running a finger over his delicious lips. “I could not believe it when Fergus came for me,” she murmured. “He said that you wanted to marry me.”

  He kissed her furiously, again, because he could not get enough of her. “If you will have me.”

  “I will have none other.”

  He squeezed the breath out of her. For an eternity of sweet moments, they said nothing. Their words were in their kisses, in their touch. Garren was so delirious that it took him some time to realize the entire back of her dress was damp and cold. Like a man waking from a dream, he struggled to get a grip on reality. And the reality was that she was cold and wet. He let her go long enough to turn her around to see just how bad off she really was.

  “Why are you all wet?” he asked.

  Derica was swooning with happiness and exhaustion. “I fell into the creek when Fergus…,” her eyes suddenly grew wide with fear. “Garren, Fergus is in trouble.”

  “What trouble?”

  “My family has been chasing us since we left Framlingham, three days ago,” she said. “They almost caught up to us earlier today. Fergus sent me on to the abbey while he went to lead them off our trail.”

  Reality settled more firmly on Garren; were they to leave the safety of the abbey while the de Rosa patrols were still in the area, they risked running into them. However, as the only abbey in the area and place of safe haven, it would be inevitable that, at some point, the de Rosa band would come knocking at the door. Even though Derica could claim sanctuary, still, it would make for an ugly situation, especially if they knew that Garren was with her. He couldn’t risk being discovered.

  “He is buying us time to get away,” Garren took her gently by the arm. “We must get out of here. Did you bring anything with you?”

  “No, nothing. We left hastily to avoid being followed, but we were followed anyway.”

  Garren didn’t say anything to that; he simply patted her hand. Derica followed him across the ward and into the abbey. It was cool and dark, the smells of cooking wafting on the air. Her damp dress was causing her a chill and she shivered. Garren could feel her twitch.

  “First things first,” he said. “We must get you into something dry and get you something to eat.”

  “It has been a while since I last ate.”

  “Didn’t Fergus feed you?”

  “Of course he did. But the last of our bread ran out this morning.”

  “I hope he was chivalrous. He didn’t eat everything, did he?”

  “He ate hardly a thing. He let me have most of it.”

  “As well he should.” He kissed her again, just because he wanted to. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you again. Although I hoped for the best, I wasn’t sure if the best would come.”

  She smiled and grasped his hand, tightly. He took her into a small corridor and into the second chamber on the right; it was empty but for a cot, a small table and two chairs. It was dark, and somewhat creepy.

  “I shall see if the nuns have something you can wear while your gown dries,” he said. “Sit down and rest a moment, sweetheart. I shall return shortly.”

  She sat down, but she continued holding his hand as if she was fearful to let him out of her sight. He knelt down beside her and kissed her hand gently.

  “I promise, I shan’t be long,” he kissed her lips. “Everything will be all right, Derica. I swear it.”

  Their gazes locked and she smiled, putting her hands around his neck affectionately. “I know it will,” she said. “Do you remember when we were up on the battlements of Framlingham, right after we’d first met, how you told me that we would be in for a good deal of trouble were my father to find us alone and unescorted?”

  He grinned. “I do.”

  “I think this is a bit more serious than that.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But even if they were to break the door down this moment, for the feeling that I have right now when I look at you, it would be well worth the price.”

  He was deeply touched. “I can tell you now that I intend there should be many more moments like this one,” he whispered. “You shall never be out of my sight, ever.”

  Derica knew he meant every word of it. “But what about Fergus? Aren’t you going to help him?”

  “Fergus can take care of himself. To go chasing after him right now would only ruin what he is trying to accomplish.”

  She understood, but still, she worried for him. “He is a good friend to you.”

  “The very best. I am concerned for him, of course, but I would do more harm than good in my attempt to help him right now.”

  Derica smiled sadly and let go of his hand so he could search for something dry for her to wear. With a wink, Garren left her in the cold, silent room.

  She must have b
een more exhausted than she’d realized. She was aware that she was on her back, still in that dark little room, with soft voices around her. She stirred a bit before sitting up, groggily.

  Garren was sitting across from her on a small chair. There was a tiny figure swathed in brown and white beside him, and the two of them were talking softly. Garren caught sight of her and smiled.

  “I am sorry, sweetheart,” he stood up and went to her. “Did we wake you?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she rubbed her head. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A few hours,” Garren sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “I came back with something dry for you to wear and you were asleep sitting up. So I laid you down on the bed. You never woke up.”

  Derica yawned delicately, trying not to be rude. “I did not realize I was so exhausted, but this is the first bed I have slept on in days. Fergus was afraid to put us up at an inn for fear we’d be discovered, so we slept in the woods.”

  Garren hugged her gently. “You have had a rough time of it.”

  She grinned, rubbing the sleep from her eye. “Not really. It is all been rather adventurous.”

  The tiny figure in brown and white twitched, reminding them that it was still there. Garren looked over at the silhouette.

  “I would like you to meet someone,” he said to Derica. “This is Sister Mary Felicitas.”

  Derica stood up; she did not want to be rude and greet the woman on her backside. “Sister, it is an honor to meet you.”

  Gabrielle moved into the light and Derica could see, immediately, that her eyes were sightless. “And you, Lady Derica. I have heard nothing but your praises for days. I feel as if I know you already.”

  The nun’s hand was outstretched and Derica took it; it was tiny and cold. “I hope we will indeed get to know one another,” she said.

  Gabrielle smiled. “I like her, Garren,” she said to her brother. “I can hear it in her voice. She will be good for you.”

  Garren’s eyes twinkled as his gaze moved between his sister and Derica. “She has been that already.”

  Derica smiled coyly, feeling the nun squeeze her hand tightly. “Fergus told me that when I came here, I was to ask for Sister Mary Felicitas,” she said. “Do you help run-away maidens by way of habit, then?”

  Gabrielle laughed. “No, my lady. Just the ones my brother happens to be in love with.”

  Derica looked at Garren with such an expression that he felt his heart leap strangely. Though he had never said the words, surely she suspected his love for her. It was the first time such emotion had been put into words, and he could see that it did not displease her. He reached over and, taking Derica from his sister’s grasp, pulled her onto his lap. She curled up like a kitten against him, all warm and soft and round in all of the right places.

  “Now,” he said, though he was having trouble maintaining his train of thought with her sweet body pressed against him. “My sister and I have been talking and I would seek your approval of our conclusions. Firstly, I have had the sisters pack a bag for you to take with us.”

  “Pack a bag? With what?”

  “Three garments, my lady,” Gabrielle said helpfully. “Though I know the standards of the garments are not what you are used to, still, they will be serviceable. We have given you two durable broadcloth dresses, plus a finer gown made from lamb’s wool and dyed a lovely shade of blue, I am told. We have also managed to locate some calendula soap, plus a comb and a few other personal items. I hope it will be adequate.”

  “Considering I have nothing but the clothes on my back, sister, I am sure what you have given me will be more than adequate,” Derica said. “Your consideration is very much appreciated.”

  Gabrielle smiled in response and Derica turned back to Garren. He was so warm and comfortable that she snuggled closer to him, allowing her nostrils to become accustomed to the musky, intoxicating aroma. He was heavenly.

  Garren was becoming accustomed to her feel, too, far too quickly. He never wanted to let her out of his arms. But his mind was whirling with thoughts and he forced himself to continue.

  “Secondly, I think It is best we leave this place tonight,” he said. “We have got several days travel ahead of us and the sooner we can get away from the de Rosa patrols, the better.”

  “Agreed. Where are we going?”

  “Wales.”

  She pulled her face out of his neck, looking him in the eye. “Wales? Why so far away?”

  “Simply because it is a safe place for us. ’Tis far away from your father and I believe it would be best for now.”

  “And then what?”

  “When their anger has cooled, we go to Chateroy.”

  Derica thought on that a moment. “My father can stay angry a long time. It might be years before we can safely live at Chateroy. Even then, if we are discovered, I cannot guarantee that he will not lay siege in order to avenge me. He will consider me, after all, stolen property.”

  “The lady is as smart as she is beautiful,” Garren winked at her. “But Chateroy is my home, and my inheritance, and I intend to occupy her as such in time. Besides, my father has so much money that who is to say we cannot buy your father off given time. For his troubles, so to speak.”

  Derica shook her head. “You cannot buy my father’s pride or loyalty.”

  “Then here is your choice; you may ride home tonight and beg his forgiveness and live your life in peace. Or, you can stay with me and spend the rest of your life avoiding your family. Well?”

  He was half-serious, half-not. Derica cocked an eyebrow. “Will you let me think on it?”

  “No.”

  She scowled; he grinned. When he began to pepper her cheek and neck with kisses, and finally gentle bites, she squealed and began laughing. In the shadows of the room, Gabrielle cleared her throat softly.

  “Temperance, my good knight,” she admonished her brother softly. “The lady is not yours yet in the eyes of God. Better to finish what is necessary so that you may be free to do with her as you please.”

  Garren and Derica stopped their play, knowing she was correct. They had been so thrilled with the reality of seeing each other again that the larger formality had been momentarily pushed aside. The sooner they were married, the better for all concerned.

  “I assumed we would find a priest on our journey to Wales,” Garren said. “I am not sure there is time at the moment to do this properly.”

  “If there is time to play, there is time to wed,” Gabrielle said firmly. “Four miles to the north is a Jesuit monastery. I would have you become man and wife before you leave this place, Garren. I ask this of you.”

  “Then let us send for a priest. I, too, am eager to claim this woman as my own in the eyes of God.”

  Near dawn, Garren and Derica were married by a disheveled priest who smelled strongly of sacramental wine. All of the sisters in the convent were witness. The Mother Abbess even gave Derica a simple silver wedding band, the kind that the nuns received when they took their final vows and became brides of Christ. When Garren slipped the ring on her finger, she couldn’t remember ever having been so happy.

  As the priest droned on in Latin, Garren and Derica lost themselves in each other’s eyes, feeling emotions they’d never felt before, elated that they were going to spend a lifetime together. Upon their meeting a week prior, neither one of them could have imagined what their marriage would have truly become. When they knelt for the final prayer and received the Blessing, Derica could hardly concentrate on what was being said. All she could think of was her husband and the blissfully happy life they would have.

  It never occurred to her that happiness would come at a price.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Riding with Garren was far different than riding with Fergus. For instance, she had always ridden behind Fergus in the saddle, but Garren put her in front of him. He held her tightly with one hand and reined the muscular charger with the other. As dawn broke on the first day of their wedde
d life together, they found themselves on a misty road surrounded by dripping trees. It was wet and cold, but wrapped in Garren’s arms, Derica had never felt warmer, or more content.

  The nuns had worked furiously during the night to clean and hem the pale blue gown that had caused so much trouble. It was packed away in the borrowed satchel the sisters had filled for her. She was dressed in a heavy broadcloth peasant gown that was a bit too snug, the very same garment she had taken her vows in. Her waist was narrow, her hips shapely and her breasts full, and she filled out the dress better than a peasant ever could have. The bodice of the gown was crisscrossed with a series of string ties, which Sister Mary Felicitas and another nun had worked furiously to cinch up across her rounded breasts. She had spent a good deal of time exhaling to shrink down while they pulled. Finally, the garment was laced, but Derica was clearly squeezed into it like a cork ready to pop.

  Garren had thought the dress quite pleasing on her figure. He had no complaints whatsoever. But she was obviously out of place in such a plain dress, like a beautiful painting set in a latrine. With her hair plaited into a long braid that tumbled over one shoulder, she looked positively angelic. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and he made sure that he always had hold of her with one hand or the other. Never in his life had he felt more fortunate, and the more time passed, the more deeply attached he could feel himself becoming. Gone were the fears he had possessed when he had first met her; he had surrendered fully to his emotions and had never been happier in his life.

  Derica fell asleep less than a half hour into their journey. Garren scanned the countryside with his trained eye, every so often glancing down at the lady in his arms. She was wrapped in the brown cloak Fergus had given her, also cleaned by the nuns along with the blue dress. Her head was cradled in the crook of his right elbow, her face pressed against his cold armor as she snored softly. Every so often, she would shift and her left hand would come into view, the silver ring gleaming in the misty light. Garren smiled every time he looked down at her; he could hardly believe she was his.