Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  “Hah!” He nipped her earlobe. “So you say.”

  Annis traced her fingertips up his smooth jaw. “I love you.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” He nestled her closer. “I love you as well.”

  A loud, amused cough sounded behind them. “Not much secret if you ask anyone here.”

  Hugh and Annis smiled at each other.

  And so it was, ever after.

  About Barbara Bettis

  Award-winning author Barbara Bettis has always loved history and English. As a college freshman she considered becoming an archeologist until she realized there likely would be bugs and snakes involved. And math. Through careers as a newspaper reporter and editor, then a college journalism and English professor, she’s retained her fascination with history. Give her a research book and a pot of tea, and she’s happy for hours. But what really makes her smile is working on a new story. Now retired, she lives in Missouri where she edits for others and spins her own tales of heroines to die for—and heroes to live for.

  Writing awards include: MPA, MWG, IDA, Emily.

  Visit Barbara at: http://www.barbarabettis.com

  Also By Barbara Bettis

  Buy Barbara’s Books

  Knights of Destiny Series:

  Silverhawk

  The Heart of the Phoenix

  The Lady of the Forest

  For This Knight Only

  A Winter Knight

  Destiny's Way by Karen Muir

  Chapter 1

  England, 1354

  Miles Vastel stepped out of the Muddy Brook Tavern onto the busy cobblestone street. A strong, rank odor, worse than when he entered the tavern, caught him by surprise. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Fresh air was rare in London. Thankfully, he only had to put up with the stench until the end of the week. After that, he'd be back at Rosemont Castle, enjoying the brisk salty air wafting in on the ocean breeze.

  A man hurried by, bumped his arm, and never looked back.

  Miles shook his head. Where he lived, people showed knights more respect.

  Marcus, a fellow knight and one of Miles's closest friends, joined him in front of the building.

  "Do you regret agreeing to come with me to London?" Marcus asked.

  "I thought it was a great idea the night you plied me with drink. But now that I'm here, I realize I should never make decisions when I'm not in my right mind."

  Marcus chuckled and slapped Miles's shoulder. "I do enjoy your company. Now that you're staying with Richard, the newly dubbed Earl of Rosemont, it's been a while since we journeyed together."

  "It's not that I didn't like living at Hammerstead Castle with you, serving under our friend William, but I'd rather be by the water."

  "Rosemont is a worthy place to lay your head. Our friends, both Richard and William, have done well for themselves. In turn, they have made our lives more comfortable by welcoming us into their homes and allowing us to settle down at their castles."

  "That they have. No more hiring out our swords or fighting in other men's wars. At least not at the moment."

  Marcus smoothed the front of his brocade tunic. "This week, my only concerns are family gatherings and attending my niece's wedding. I'm off to visit the Earl of Warwick. Are you sure you don't want to come along? My brother will welcome you with open arms."

  Miles scrutinized his friend and grinned. Marcus had pulled back his long, gray-streaked hair and swapped his usual chain mail for formal wear. "I have no desire to get fancied up and go to any of your high-born parties during my stay in town. Tonight, I'll be content to sit by the fire with a brimming cup of ale after I get the hilt on my dagger fixed."

  "Why do you keep that little blade? It's too small for your hand."

  "I've had the knife since I was a lad. It fits perfectly in my boot."

  "So, it does." Marcus nodded. "I'm off. Save some ale for me."

  Miles watched as the older knight cut into the crowd and headed down the street.

  When Marcus had disappeared, Miles set off in the opposite direction to find the smithy. Shops made of weathered clay and timbered wood lined the main thoroughfare. Street vendors called out their wares as he walked by. The forge was around the corner, and once there, he waited as the blacksmith repaired his dagger.

  On his way back to Richard's townhouse, he came upon a fishmonger selling fresh cod. He had a craving for a nice filet. From past experiences, he knew Mistress Tanner, the wife of the caretaker of the property, had a knack for cooking delicious meals and could do justice to such a find.

  He selected two fish to share with the Tanner family and retrieved his heavy money pouch to complete the purchase. After years of riding alongside Richard and William on many well-paid quests, his funds were plentiful. He never felt the bite of hunger when a meal could be bought.

  Miles paid the man and tucked the wrapped fish under one arm. When he went to place his coin pouch back inside his tunic, he felt a hard tug and the leather slipped through his fingers.

  A young robber ran off through the crowd with Miles's money clasped in his hand.

  Miles took up the chase. "Stop thief," he bellowed, while he weaved in and out of the maze of people.

  A burly man ahead grabbed the back of the boy's shirt, stopping him short.

  Miles caught up in a few strides. He snatched the leather pouch from the lad and then latched onto the child's upper arm. The blond-haired boy, around ten winters, stared at him with wide eyes and quivering lips.

  "Caught you, you little thief," Miles said gruffly. "Let's see what the sheriff wants to do with you.”

  Chapter 2

  Grace Bradshaw hurried along the busy walkway in the center of town. Over her forearm hung a newly sewn surcoat for Mistress Pike. Grace needed to deliver the finished gown quickly so she could return home and put the evening meal on the table. Her uncle would be displeased if he had to wait.

  As she skirted through the congested thoroughfare, she noticed a tall knight dragging a young boy along while he strode down the street. The man's handsome face was set in steely resolve.

  When the child turned, her heart slammed into her chest and panic rose in her throat. She wanted to scream but no sound came out.

  The knight had her little brother, Jacob, by his arm. A stream of tears ran down her brother's cheeks as he squirmed to get free, but the knight held him in an unyielding grip.

  She jostled folks out of the way as she raced on trembling legs toward the pair. "Please, Sir! Halt. I beg you!"

  Her frantic words caught the knight's attention. He glared at her. Her stomach churned. The man had a noble profile, with a square jaw, straight nose, and high cheek bones. He stopped next to a shop and waited.

  When Grace reached them, Jacob grabbed for her, his eyes pleading, but the knight yanked her brother back against his side.

  All sorts of reasons for the knight's rough treatment of Jacob ran through her mind, but none seemed plausible.

  "Please, Sir, this is my little brother. Why do you handle him so?" A shrill edge sounded in her voice.

  "I'm taking the little thief to the sheriff."

  "Thief? You must be mistaken."

  "He stole my money pouch and now he's going to be dealt with accordingly."

  Her brother hung his head.

  She stiffened. The knight speaks the truth.

  "How could you?" Grace said sternly.

  When Jacob looked up, his moist eyes were as big as coins. "I saw all that money. I thought we could run away."

  The man cocked a brow. "Run away?"

  Her fingers throbbed from clutching Mistress Pike's surcoat. She locked eyes with the knight. "Please, don't deliver him to the sheriff. I'll take responsibility for him. I'll see that he's taught a lesson. He won't do anything like this again."

  "Who provides for you?"

  "Our uncle."

  "I'll have words with him."

  "Oh, no. I beg you. Release my brother to me. He'll be properly punished."

 
The knight's gaze narrowed, and his lips pressed tightly together.

  Grace couldn't let the man talk to her uncle. She had to convince the knight she'd set things right. "We will come to your home tomorrow at noon. You can put Jacob to work. Maybe some hard labor, so he won't ever steal again."

  "What's your name?" the knight questioned.

  "Grace Bradshaw. We live in Pepperidge Square. I'm good for my word, Sir."

  He just had to agree.

  The lines around the knight's intelligent greenish-gold eyes softened ever so slightly. If she wasn't so intimidated by him and the mayhem he could reap on her family, she'd find him ruggedly appealing.

  The knight exhaled loudly. "All right. Tomorrow noon. The Tanners on Blight Street. I'll be waiting."

  "Your name, Sir?"

  "Sir Miles Vastel." He let go of Jacob.

  She opened her arms and her brother bolted to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and sobbed.

  Grace heaved a sigh. "Thank you. Your kindness is much appreciated. We'll see you tomorrow."

  "Don't make me regret it." The knight adjusted the wrapped package under his arm and walked down the street.

  Chapter 3

  Grace squeezed Jacob. "You were only supposed to go to the fishmongers and purchase some fish for our meal."

  Her brother wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. "I was waiting for my turn. I saw the man's heavy pouch. I thought the coins could get us away from here. I thought, if I ran really fast, he'd never catch me. He's quick for someone that big and would've got me if the other man hadn't."

  "Knights are not to be trifled with. You're lucky he didn't beat you. He had every right."

  Her brother stared at his shoes.

  "You know the penalty for thievery is cutting off a hand or other body part. Had that happened, you would've been marked for life as a no-good thief."

  He choked back a sob.

  "I can't believe you'd do something so foolish." Grace hated to be so harsh, but she hadn’t raised him to rob others. The consequences could've been dire if the knight had not had a heart.

  Jacob plastered his face to her chest and bawled in earnest. A few passersby regarded them as they stood in the shadow of the building.

  "I promise you. We'll get out of this predicament one day, but it won't be by thievery." She cupped the top of his head and stroked his golden locks until his sadness quieted.

  Slowly, she disengaged from his embrace.

  He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.

  "It's too late to make my delivery. I'll have to wait until tomorrow. Uncle will be home soon. He'll be furious if his meal is not ready. We'd best hurry."

  Chapter 4

  The next day at noon, Miles paced back and forth in Avery Tanner's leather shop on the first floor of the three-story townhouse. He was half convinced Grace and her brother wouldn't show. The thought made his insides knot.

  I had hoped to see her again.

  Yesterday, Miles was livid when the little robber snatched his coin pouch. He had wanted to frighten the boy into never stealing again, so he hauled the lad through the street and threatened him with the sheriff, but he had no intention of delivering him there. The punishment was too steep for a child. Miles just wanted to scare the boy to make a point, so the lad never tried such a thing again.

  He glanced at the door. Since their encounter, he couldn't get Grace Bradshaw off his mind. His insides vibrated with excitement at the possibility of laying eyes on her once more. He admired the way she bravely spoke up for Jacob. And respected how she protected him but also wanted to teach him the costs of his actions, so he'd learn the difference between right and wrong. She didn't cry or ply her female ways to persuade him to release her brother but instead, she had a proposition.

  A worthy one at that, if she showed.

  The bell on the shop door jingled.

  His eyes darted toward the entryway.

  Grace and Jacob walked inside.

  Miles released his held breath and his tense muscles relaxed. "I see you made it."

  "I gave you my word. I hope you have a job that needs doing. Jacob is prepared to make amends."

  "And so he shall." Miles examined her profile. Grace was prettier than he remembered. She wore a form-fitting navy surcoat with a scooped neckline. A string of gold embroidered flowers adorned the edges. A light blue linen kirtle lay beneath and hugged her arms to her wrists. Her long, flaxen hair, more white than yellow, was gathered away from her face by braided cords tied behind her head. The rest of her hair, kept in loose waves, cascaded down her back to her waist. Thick, black lashes encircled her sparkling, violet eyes and becomingly accentuated her flushed cheeks. Her stance was confident but her dimpled smile was timid and unsure.

  Miles grinned to ease her discomfort. "I've discussed the situation with Mr. Tanner who is the caretaker for my friend's townhouse. He has a woodpile out back that needs splitting and stacking."

  Jacob stepped forward, his expression grave. He was a thin lad with wistful eyes. "Before I get to work, I would like to seek your forgiveness. I know stealing is wrong. I'm happy to have a chance to work hard as a punishment."

  The boy extended his hand.

  Miles shook it. "Swear you won't ever rob anyone again."

  "No, Sir. I won't. I swear." Jacob lifted his chin. His sister smiled softly.

  Miles led them out back, next to the stable. He gave Jacob a small ax and showed him where to stack the wood.

  "Would you like me to help you get started?" Miles asked.

  "No, Sir. I have to do this myself."

  The boy's answer pleased him. He and Grace stepped away and watched at a distance while Jacob figured out the task and got into a rhythm.

  He turned to Grace. "Would you like to sit by the fire while Jacob completes his work?"

  "I thank you for the offer, but I have a delivery to make." She held up a cloth bag. "I sew in my free time and have a woman waiting for her new surcoat."

  "Your brother can manage this himself. I'll walk with you."

  Before she could beg off, he called out to Jacob, "We'll be back in a little while."

  Jacob waved and then returned to his work.

  Chapter 5

  Grace's heart hammered in her chest as Miles escorted her through the leather shop and onto the side street. Once outside, she breathed deeply to calm her racing pulse. She hadn't expected he'd want to escort her.

  "May I carry your bag?" He stood too close for her liking. A pleasant scent of sandalwood mixed with smoke filled her nostrils.

  "If you wish." She wanted to assure him her bag wasn't heavy, but he seemed eager to help, so she handed it over. "Mistress Pike lives a few blocks from here."

  "Lead the way."

  Grace strolled down the street, keenly aware of the towering knight by her side. Over the past few years, she hadn't allowed herself to grow fond of any man, even though she was of marrying age and a few men had shown interest. She had no business thinking about a man in that way. There were other things more important to occupy her mind.

  She glanced at the knight. His greenish-gold eyes, the ones she noticed yesterday, were soft around the corners. Within his neatly trimmed beard, he had full lips and straight teeth. He wore a white linen shirt beneath a clean hunter green tunic. A long, sheathed dagger hung down from a leather belt at his waist. Dark woolen hose covered long, muscular legs and his black boots rose above his knees.

  His shiny, chestnut-brown hair appeared newly washed and almost touched his shoulders. She imagined how soft it would feel to run her fingers through the strands.

  She shook her head. What a silly thought!

  "You live with your uncle?" His voice, although deep, was amiable and engaging.

  "Yes. Along with Jacob, who is ten, and Anna, who is twelve. My parents, a sister, and two other brothers perished when the sickness came to London. I was the oldest, Jacob the youngest. We were spared a horrific death. I didn't know what to do so we went to li
ve with my father's brother and his wife. Regrettably, my aunt died a year later from the same affliction."

  "Jacob mentioned something about wanting to run away."

  Grace picked up the pace. "Just childish notions."

  "I don't believe you."

  She tensed.

  "Your brother's a good lad. I got the impression he acted out of desperation."

  For too long, she had kept the secret. The burden weighed heavily on her soul. She had no one to confide in.

  "Is your home not a good one?" he asked.

  Tiny hairs lifted on the back of her neck and she inhaled deeply. Should I trust him? Although she barely knew him, something about his demeanor made her feel safe.

  "My uncle is not a nice man. Since my aunt died, he's been angry and mean."

  "How bad are you treated?" He halted and reached out to stop her. His brows drew together.

  Grace studied him. She didn't dare tell him the whole truth. "We have to be very careful about what we say or do around him."

  She turned and started walking again. "Our parents raised us differently. Our family was close, full of warmth and laughter. The past few years have been hard."

  In a few strides, he caught up and set pace beside her.

  Her hands trembled, so she clasped them in front of her. "I tried hiding some coins I earned from my needlework, but my uncle caught me and seized my money. I believe that's why Jacob resorted to stealing. He shouldn't have, but he thought he had found a way out."

  "Do you not have any other family who could take you in?"

  "Our family was decimated by the plague. There's nobody left." She glanced at him.

  His face looked grim.

  She smiled to lighten the mood. "I'm eternally indebted to you for your kindness. I thank you for not insisting on going to my uncle or the sheriff and for letting Jacob make amends. Things would've gone badly for us had you not shown compassion."