The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Lyle went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know,” he said. “But Brick has meant a great deal to us over the years. He is a good man. If you could mayhap be kind to him, Em… be kind but firm that you are not interested in his suit… mayhap that will be enough to ease him.”

  Emilie shook her head. “A polite rejection may not be enough,” she said. “If he truly has feelings for me, I am afraid being polite or too terribly kind might have the opposite effect – it might give him hope. I fear the only cure for his damaged heart will be for him to find a woman who will respond to him, who will be a good wife, someone to take his mind off of me. A distraction.”

  Lyle lifted his eyebrows. “Nathalie?”

  Emilie looked at her father, at the twinkle in his eye, and bit her lip. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because she yearns for him.”

  “You are not supposed to know about that.”

  Lyle laughed softly. “How can I not know about it?” he asked. “Your sister makes it frightfully obvious that she is smitten with Brick, and he responds to Nathalie much as you respond to him – with aversion.”

  Emilie knew that; she had seen it from Brickley, the way he went in the other direction when Nathalie came near. “She is young,” she said. “She is trying very much to mature, however. Mayhap with a little encouragement from you, Brick would look to Nathalie instead of me.”

  Lyle removed his hands from her shoulders. “I will not,” he said. “He is far too old for your sister. His son is her age, in fact. Nay, I will not coerce Brick into finding interest with your sister when he clearly has none. Could I coerce you into feeling something for him? I think not.”

  Emilie understood. “So what do I do?” she asked. “I feel very strangely about him now, Papa. I do not want him to escort me to the mask. Everyone will believe we are a pair and I do not want to give Brick that false hope.”

  Lyle was silent for a moment. He was thinking something quite devious and hesitated to speak of it to his daughter, but he surmised he may as well. He remembered being young once, too, and pursuing Emilie’s mother. He remembered a particular instance when Willow had attempted to make him quite jealous with another man. In reflecting upon his conversation with Christopher about his brother, Lyle couldn’t help but think that Emilie might use Brick to her advantage when it came to David de Lohr. But, then again, he wasn’t supposed to know about that. He scratched at his chin, pretending to be thoughtful, when he was really being quite calculated.

  “Em,” he said slowly. “I… I was thinking. Mayhap you should allow Brick to escort you to the mask because other young men will see you with him and, of course, nothing intrigues a single man like a woman who is already spoken for. In fact, you being seen with Brick might bring forth any number of suitors based on jealousy alone. David de Lohr, for example. He will be there tonight, you know. You have not seen him in two months.”

  Emilie’s head snapped to her father, her eyes widening in surprise and outrage. “David?” she repeated. “Who said anything about David de Lohr? Who had told you such lies?”

  Lyle was trying very hard not to laugh at her reaction; she very much wanted to deny anything about the man but he could see in her expression that she could not.

  “No one has told me anything about him,” he said, “except, possibly, his brother. I have seen Christopher many times over the past few weeks and we were speaking once, casual conversation of course, and he mentioned that David might be missing you.”

  Emilie’s eyes were still wide with astonishment. “He is not!”

  “It is possible that he is.”

  Her lips twisted with rage. “How can he miss me when there is nothing between us?”

  “Can you not be honest with me, Em? It is clear that you wish there was.”

  Emilie was greatly struggling now. She didn’t want to lie to her father but the subject of David was a very difficult one for her. She refused to look at him, walking the fine line between admitting such a thing and denying it altogether.

  “If such a thing were true and he really was yearning for me, he has an odd way of showing it,” she said. “He has not come to see me in all of these two months and he could very well find out where I am. It is no great secret we are staying with Aunt Coraline.”

  Lyle couldn’t help the grin now. “It is my suspicion that David is nearly as stubborn as you are in showing his emotions,” he said, watching Emilie flush furiously. “My darling, I have no intention of asking you what you feel for David, if anything, because certainly that is your affair. But if you do feel something for him and had any inclination of making the man jealous enough to swallow his pride and mayhap speak of his feelings for you, then allowing Brick to escort you to the mask might be a good way to do it. You saw how the two of them nearly came to blows over you at the tournament those months ago. If David were to see you with Brick at the mask, it might very well drive him over the edge.”

  Emilie was no longer shocked or outraged by the mere mention of David de Lohr, but actually intrigued by what her father was saying. She knew very well how David and Brickley had behaved towards one another, which she was now coming to understand was because Brickley was jealous. But David… he responded the same way Brickley had. Did that mean he had felt something for her, too, only he’d been too shy or stubborn, or both, to speak of it?

  For the first time in two months, Emilie had some hope. Hope that perhaps she could draw David to her by making him jealous. Was it foolish? Of course it was. But it wouldn’t be too terribly foolish if it worked.

  “But what of Brick?” she asked. “Won’t he feel terrible if he realizes I am using him to make David jealous?”

  Lyle shrugged. “I am sure he will,” he said. “But if it is between my daughter’s happiness and my knight’s, then you know the choice I am going to make. But have no fear; I will make amends to Brick if you end up married to David and not to him. Besides, your mother did this once to me and you see what happened to us. The same tactic might work well for you, too.”

  Emilie grinned; she could hardly believe her father was being so devious, to help her bright forth the man of her dreams, no less, but she loved him for it.

  “Oh, Papa,” she sighed. Her guard with him was down completely now. “How did you know about my feelings? Who told you about… about David? I never told anyone, not even Nathalie.”

  Lyle smiled and collected the sheer blue scarf from the bed. He toyed with it a moment, perhaps remembering when he was her age and all of the hopes and loves he had at that time in his life. “No one told me,” he said. “But I am not so old that I do not remember what it was like to feel for someone. I put the pieces of the puzzle together and figured it out for myself. I like David a great deal, Em. He is a fine young man.”

  Emilie wasn’t sure what to feel; embarrassment that her secret was out or relief that her father was willing to help her. She settled for a little of both.

  “He is,” she agreed, taking the scarf and moving to the bronze mirror to put it on her head. “But I feel terribly that I am about to take advantage of Brick in order to get to David.”

  “Badly enough that you will not do it?”

  Emilie shook her head. “Nay,” she said quietly. “Not that badly. I suppose Brick will just have to understand that in the end. It is a terribly cruel thing to do, but given the choice between gaining David or hurting Brick… I am wicked to say that I want to gain David.”

  Lyle nodded. “All is fair in love and war, my darling,” he said. “Brick will simply have to be a casualty in the quest for your true love. Now, he is waiting downstairs to take you. I suggest you go. I will bring your sisters soon enough.”

  Emilie finished with the scarf; along with the matching cloak, she looked absolutely stunning. Going to her father, she kissed the man on the cheek before quitting the chamber and heading down to the entry of her aunt’s massive home where Brickley wait, finely dressed in leather and wool. His face lit up when he
saw her and in that instant, Emilie could see that everything her father said was the truth. The man did have feelings for her.

  But it was of no matter. If the choice was between Brickleys’ feelings and her own, she was prepared to be selfish. She had baited the trap; now, all she had to do was wait for the prey.

  Tonight, she became the hunter.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Windsor Castle

  David had been to a lot of parties and celebrations, but never anything like this.

  The prince, in his earnest to have the most spectacular party England had ever seen, had provided a feast on a colossal scale. Forty cows had been killed and cooked, the smells of which lay heavily over the grounds of the castle and wafted upon the wind for miles. He’d also killed thirty sheep, about the same number of goats, rabbits, swans, peacocks, pigeons, wild boar, and any number of smaller birds. Everything was being roasted or boiled, sauced and salted, and several of the cooked birds sat upon the cluttered tables in the great hall with their feathers replaced so that they resembled living creatures.

  It was grand decadence and the House of de Lohr was dressed for the occasion. Christopher’s wife wore a rich red brocade that was a gorgeous piece of work while the only other lady in the group, Christopher and David’s younger sister, Deborah, wore a lovely blue silk. Lady Deborah de Lohr had fostered with the Earl of Bath for many years and was reunited with her brothers when the earl had come to Windsor for the great tournament, as so many other households had come.

  Having not seen their sister in many years, David and Christopher welcomed her into their group and even as the Earl of Bath had taken his household back home after the tournament, Deborah had remained with her brothers. After having been apart so long, the de Lohr siblings were together once again.

  Tall, slender, and blond, Deborah fit in well with her brothers and with Christopher’s new wife. In fact, Dustin and Deborah had become fast friends and even now, having arrived in hall on the arms of Christopher and David, the women were chatting like magpies. At least, that’s the way David would have described them. Deborah was a truly gentle and sweet girl but she could talk God off of his mighty throne. And Dustin, of course, being surrounded by men day in and day out, was happy for the female company. They made a cozy pair seated at one of the long feasting tables in the hall, chatting about everything from the food to the dresses other women were wearing.

  David stood away from the table, watching the women gossip and thinking that the hall was entirely too warm for his taste. And it smelled like smoke and urine beneath the heady scent of roasted meat, not exactly an appetizing combination. His brother was conversing with his men, including Marcus, who no longer had his right hand wrapped and was working daily to strength the damaged hand. Burton was still a fixture in Christopher’s ranks but David still didn’t have much to do with Marcus these days so he kept to himself mostly, wandering behind the pillars, looking to see who was in attendance. Much like the tournament those months ago, the mask this night promised to be a well-attended event.

  Although David paced the room with the excuse of seeing who had come from John’s stable of supporters, the truth was that he was looking for the House of Hampton to arrive. Certainly, he’d played it cool these past two months, pretending that nothing was amiss with him, going through the daily motions and duties alongside his brother as if everything was normal in his world, but the truth was that nothing was normal since the day of the great and terrible tournament. Ever since Emilie had fled from his life, things hadn’t been normal in the least.

  He’d cursed himself daily for his thoughts of her. He should have forgotten her the moment she’d left his sight but he couldn’t seem to manage it. He’d even tried to distract himself by pursuing the attention of other ladies at Windsor – one being the daughter of Baron Audley, Lady Lucinda Bartley, and the other had been the daughter of the House of de Bohun, a Lady Maryann. And those were the two he could readily remember, but the truth was that there had been many more, simply to pass the time.

  Lady Lucinda and Lady Maryann were pretty women, but shallow and catty, and even as he’d chatted with them over supper in the great hall, or walked through the upper ward with them on an escorted walk, he found himself comparing them to Emilie again and again. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the woman. As the days advanced, so did his longing for her. By the time December had rolled around, he was willing to forget their argument and go and beg her forgiveness, but he couldn’t seem to summon the courage to do it. He was afraid she might laugh in his face, or worse. He was afraid she might have forgotten about him altogether.

  But he knew she hadn’t left London. He had seen her father at several meetings for Richard’s supporters and he had come to depend on seeing Lyle, as if seeing him somehow meant seeing his daughter. Lately, he’d wanted to inquire about Emilie’s health whenever he saw Lyle but he refused to look like a fool doing it, showing interest in a woman who wouldn’t let him kiss her without making some kind of marital commitment to her. It had been foolish and premature of her to do that, in his opinion, but if he was totally honest with himself, perhaps it wasn’t so foolish. He would have thought much less of a woman who would have simply let him kiss her at his whim, as if there was no value attached to the gesture.

  As if she didn’t mean anything to him.

  But she meant a good deal. More and more, she meant everything to him. So he slugged through the days without much humor, trying not to think on the angelic lass with the big brown eyes who had stood up to him. He’d wanted to kiss her and she wasn’t going to let him. She’d called him brave when the truth was that she was braver than he was; no one stood up to David de Lohr without consequences. But she hadn’t cared about the consequences; she’d been more than willing to walk away from him.

  Therefore, this night was important to him. He’d known about it for weeks and had assumed, and hoped, that Emilie would be here with her father. He had even bathed that day and had Edward cut his hair because Edward was good at that sort of thing. Most knights didn’t keep their hair so short, and some even let their hair hang as if they’d put a bowl on their hair and cut around it, but David didn’t like his hair in his eyes so he always cut it very short. It was thick, however, thick enough to stand on end when it became dirty or wet, but this evening saw his hair neatly combed. In his finest leather breeches, linen tunic, and a heavy leather sleeveless coat that was lined with fur and went all the way to his ankles, he made a fine presentation. Quite plainly, he was the best looking man at the feast.

  Finely dressed or not, he was still a warrior and kept an assortment of daggers on his person; that was simply prudent in these times. As Christopher and the others lingered near one of the feasting tables, David positioned himself next to one of the supporting pillars so he could see all who entered the hall. It was very cold outside on this night but without snow or clouds of any kind, so the weather was good as guests began arriving in droves.

  Thousands of fat tapers lit the massive hall along with a fireplace that was taller than a man. Guests wandered into the hall, dressed in their finery, and went to find a seat. It was an unspoken rule that John’s supporters claim one side of the room whilst Richard’s supporters claimed the other. Feasting tables that seated anywhere from eight to ten people were put end-on-end, flanking the sides of the room, while the center was left open to dancing, and the two sides began accumulating great houses, each of them facing their rivals across the hall. In what was supposed to be a festive gathering, it was an oddly confrontational seating arrangement.

  A minstrel gallery was overhead and the musicians began to play for the crowd, which was unfortunate because smoke from the malfunctioning hearth was gathering up in the minstrel gallery and David could hear the musicians coughing. There was a table off to his right that had all manner of food and drink on it, and he made his way over to pour himself a cup of sweet red wine. He found he needed the fortification to help his courage. He had nearly drained
the cup, all the while keeping his eye on the entry, when his sister approached.

  “David, will you please dance with me?” she begged. “The music is so lovely and I have no one to dance with.”

  David held up his hands, trying to beg off. “Edward likes to dance,” he said. “Have him dance with you.”

  Deborah pouted, although it was good natured. “I have not seen you in twelve years and you want me to dance with someone else?” she said. “That is a terrible thing to do to me. Besides, you are my escort – it is your duty to dance with me.”

  David made a face at her, knowing he had little choice now. “I do not like to dance.”

  Deborah would not be refused. Grinning impishly in a gesture that looked much like her eldest brother, she held out her hands to him. “Please?”

  David rolled his eyes, set his cup down, and took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. He led her to the dance floor where a few couples were going through the ritual of a carol, or a circle dance, but there weren’t very man dancers on the floor to really make it a grand carol. Giggling, Deborah led David into one of the circles and they joined in, holding hands and essentially dancing in a big circle with several other people.

  David knew how to dance but it bored him to tears. He kept trying to watch the door to see if Emilie had arrived, but as of yet, she hadn’t made an appearance. The hall was filling up and becoming stuffy with the stench of bodies as David and Deborah finished the carol and then launched into a rondelet, which was more of a choreographed dance for two people. The more David danced with his smiling sister, the more he wished he wasn’t. He wanted to be standing back by the table that held the alcohol, having more than his share of wine. He didn’t want to be out here on the dance floor when Emilie arrived, dancing with his sister. How embarrassing.

  More guests arrived during the rondelet before the song was mercifully over. Quickly, David pulled his sister back to their table while she begged to dance again, but he refused her. He left the table before she, or Dustin, could press him because he really didn’t want to be bullied into dancing any more foolish dances, so he scooted off towards the table with the wine as Leeton volunteered to be Deborah’s dance partner. Back to the floor they went, which David noted with relief.