Nunnery Brides

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Never before with a man who made her heart flutter strangely….

  “Y-your family must be very proud,” she finally said. “I am sure you will be very successful.”

  He shrugged. “A position like this is very powerful and highly coveted,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

  She nodded, curious, indeed. “I-I can.”

  “Not even if a thousand reivers sudden charge these trees and try to beat it out of you?”

  She grinned at his jest. “N-not even then, I promise.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow to emphasize how serious this was. “Only my father knows this, my lady,” he said. “If my mother found out you knew before she did, she would beat the both of us.”

  Brighton held up a hand as if to take her oath. “I-I swear it will never leave my lips, ever.”

  He nodded firmly. “I believe you,” he said. “Then I shall tell you. Along with my appointment to the Lord Protectors, I have been bequeathed lands and title to go with it. Once I assume my post, Penton Castle will become mine as well as the title Lord Westdale. Henry offered me larger properties to the south, but my heart and my family are here in the north. Penton Castle guards a major road from Scotland that leads into Carlisle. It is a very big place, built upon the ruins of a Roman fort, and it has seen more than its share of action from the Scots.”

  Brighton was duly impressed. “W-who is there now? I mean, whose army?”

  “Henry’s.”

  It all seemed quite prestigious to her. “T-then I will congratulate you,” she said sincerely. “You are to become quite important.”

  He shrugged, a cross between a modest and an arrogant gesture. “Lands and title will thrust me into the heart of London’s politics, but I am confident I shall execute my duties flawlessly,” he said. “Truthfully, I have no idea when I will actually see my property, as I will probably be in London for a very long time. Edward, the king’s son, has given me as much freedom as I need to protect the king and control who has access to him. I think it will be a very interesting position, at any rate. Not many men will go against the word of the Nighthawk.”

  Brighton cocked her head curiously. “N-Nighthawk?”

  He nodded, swallowing his cheese and then picking up a small apple. “My father is known as the Wolfe of the Border,” he said, taking up most of the apple in one bite. “He is also Warden of the Northern Borders. Have you never heard of him? Well, you will if you spend any time in the north. Because they call him The Wolfe, I have earned the name of Nighthawk for my prowess in battle. I am the only one of my brothers to have earned such a moniker.”

  Brighton rather liked that name. “N-Nighthawk,” she repeated. “They are great hunters.”

  “As am I.”

  She grinned at his boastful statement. “I-I would believe that,” she said. “You had no difficultly hunting down the reivers last night.”

  He tossed the apple core aside. “That was nothing,” he said. “They left an easy trail to follow.”

  Her smile faded as thoughts of Sister Acha returned and the terrible cost of the skirmish the night before. Averting her gaze from Patrick, she reached for another apple. “I-I suppose that you could easily track me as well even if I tried to flee for home, then.”

  He regarded her a moment. “I could. Do you intend to run? I thought we had settled that last night.”

  She put the apple in her hand down, brushing her hands off on her skirt. “I-I will be honest with you, my lord,” she said. “I still had thoughts of running for home this morning, even after our conversation last night. Coldingham is all I know, you see, and for me to simply forget about it so easily… I cannot do that. When I wandered into these trees just now, I even thought it would be very easy to slip away but I remembered what you said last night about my being selfish. If I run to Coldingham, and if men are truly after me, then trouble will follow. I do not wish to bring trouble to my home.”

  He watched her as she stood up gracefully. “That is wise.”

  She sighed, gazing out over the creek, having no idea he was watching her profile as she did. “B-but if you take me to your father, will I not be bringing trouble to him, too?”

  Patrick was not only watching her profile, he was watching the curve of her lips again when she spoke. It was mesmerizing. “You will,” he said, “but my father is a great knight. He can handle all of the trouble that the Swinton Clan wants to throw at him. Do not worry about him.”

  She turned to him, her sweet face in earnest. “B-but I do,” she said. “If I will bring as much trouble as you say, then there is nowhere I can go that will not bring trouble. I do not wish to cause trouble for those who have been kind to me.”

  He was starting not to hear her words again, daydreaming about that angelic face. But he forced himself to listen. He stood up, towering over her.

  “I would not worry about that if I were you,” he said. “You are my ward now and as long as you are, no harm will come to you. Do you not believe me?”

  She nodded, her heart beginning to pound against her ribs as his powerful form loomed before her. “I-I do,” she said. Then, she paused. “I am calmer now, my lord. Will you please tell me again what Sister Acha told you about my… my lineage? I promise I will not become hysterical. I honestly do not remember everything you told me, only that my real father is a Northman king. I would be grateful if you would tell me, once more, so that I remember all of it.”

  Patrick knew they should be heading back to the others now that their meal was over but he couldn’t quite seem to do it. He was rather enjoying talking to her, just the two of them. He didn’t want to disrupt that, at least not until he had to.

  “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

  “P-please.”

  He sighed faintly. “She told me that your mother is Lady Juliana de la Haye and your father is Magnus Haakonsson, King of the Northmen. Your real name is Kristiana Magnusdotter. But you were given the name of Brighton de Favereux to conceal your identity. Shall I tell you more?”

  Brighton nodded shortly, as if she didn’t want to hear it all but knew she had to, and he continued. “Your mother is a daughter of the House of de la Haye and she was given over to the Northmen as a hostage, to cement a peace between the kings of the North and Clan Haye. When she became pregnant, she was sent home in shame. When you were born, your mother was forced to bring you to Coldingham in order to protect you.” He paused, looking her in the eye. “Sister Acha said that no one must know of your existence for it can only bring the Northmen down upon us. Those were her words, exactly.”

  Brighton’s features were lined with distress but she was trying very hard to show courage. “Juliana de la Haye,” she murmured. “W-where does the Clan Haye live?”

  “Further to the north, I believe,” he said. “Like most Scots along the coast, I am sure they have had their share of encounters with Northmen. Making an alliance with a hostage makes perfect sense.”

  Brighton didn’t really know much about alliances. Truthfully, she didn’t know much about anything right now. Her senses, her mind, were very muddled. She was trying to process the information when a shout came from outside of the trees and Patrick shouted in return, a confirmation that they were soon to return to the group. He turned to Brighton.

  “We should be departing shortly,” he said, somewhat gently. “Did you have enough to eat? You can take the rest of the food with you in the carriage if you wish.”

  She nodded absently, still lost in thought, and he moved to collect the food. She put her hand on his arm before he could move out of her reach. Patrick came to a pause, looking down at that distressed, heavenly face as she turned her attention upward to him.

  “D-do you think… do you think your father could write to Mother Prioress and ask her if she knows anything about my true lineage?” she asked hesitantly. “If I could only have her confirmation, mayhap I could find peace with all of this. As I told you last night, I cannot believe that
she would not know the truth. If it is too much trouble for your father, I would be happy to write the missive if he would only be kind enough to supply a messenger.”

  Patrick could feel her hand on his arm like a searing brand. Such a small hand, a delicate touch, but it was burning a hole through him.

  “It will not be too much trouble for him to do that,” he said, wondering if the quivering he felt in his chest at her touch could be heard in his voice. “In fact, I think it is a very good idea. I will suggest it to him.”

  Brighton was visibly relieved. “Thank you, my lord. I am very grateful.”

  He gave her a brief smile before continuing on his quest to gather their meal. As he wrapped it back up in the kerchief, he spoke.

  “You do not need to continue addressing me formally,” he told her. “I do not mind for you to address me as Patrick.”

  Brighton looked at him with surprise. “Patrick?”

  He nodded, looking up from the bundle of food in his hand. “May I call you Brighton?”

  Brighton was rather startled with the request. Pleased, but startled. “O-of course,” she said. “But no one calls me Brighton except Mother Prioress. To everyone else, I am known as Bridey.”

  He grinned. “I know,” he said. “Sister Acha addressed you by that name. I had no idea who she was talking about at first. I will also call you Bridey if it does not displease you.”

  “I-I would be honored, my – I mean, Patrick.”

  He chuckled and reached out to take her elbow, politely escorting her out of the copse of trees and into the green field beyond.

  CHAPTER SIX

  That Evening

  Castle Questing

  Near Mindrumill, the Borders

  Arriving at Castle Questing had been somewhat surreal.

  Against the backdrop of a pale blue sky, the castle sat on the top of a crag, perched like a crouched lion that was waiting to pounce. Built of Torridonian sandstone, the building blocks were pale, almost a cream color that turned golden when sunrise or sunset hit it just right. Locals called it oir caisteal, or the golden castle, for just that reason. It was a magnificent and imposing sight.

  Because the castle sat so high, it could literally be seen for miles. The party from Berwick had spotted it several miles out and, as they approached, the sun was setting so that as they were about a half-mile away, the sun hit the stones just right and that golden castle appeared for them all to see. For those who had been born and raised at Questing, it was a welcome sight, indeed.

  As the group from Berwick drew closer, a welcome party soon emerged from Questing, moving swiftly along the road that led down the side of the crag and racing for the Berwick group at breakneck speed. Young men on powerful horses met with the incoming party and as Brighton watched with great curiosity. Patrick cuffed one of the young men on the head affectionately. Two other young men on horseback swarmed the other knights and made their way back to the wagon where the children were riding, now bundled up as the sun began to set. In the carriage, the women could hear the children screaming in delight.

  “It must be Thomas and Nathaniel,” Katheryn said, sticking her head from the carriage window to see what was going on behind them. “Oh – I see Adonis, too. Wait, Adonis! Put him down! Put Christoph down, I say!”

  Evelyn was trying to see as well. “He never listens,” she said unhappily. “Adonis de Norville! Do you hear us? Put Christoph down. And… nay! Do not pick up Hermes! Put him down!”

  Brighton had no idea what was going on; all she knew was that the children were laughing and screaming, and their mothers weren’t happy about it. The situation must have resolved itself because Katheryn and Evelyn came back into the cab, a little ruffled but seemingly satisfied, at least for the moment.

  “I am going to box his ears when we reach the castle,” Evelyn muttered. Then, she saw the look of concern on Brighton’s face and she smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry, my lady. We are speaking of young uncles who like to take the boys for a ride on their excitable horses. The last thing we need is for someone to fall off and break an arm.”

  Truthfully, Brighton thought it was rather amusing the way the children were so thrilled to see their uncles. “W-whom are you speaking of?”

  Katheryn answered her. “Thomas de Wolfe, who is our younger brother,” she said with disapproval in her tone. “He is to be knighted in a few years but right now, he is just a troublemaker and a rascal. There is also Nathaniel Hage, my husband’s youngest brother, and Adonis de Norville, who is Hector’s youngest brother. They all serve at Questing and they are naughty young men full of spit and vinegar. They need daily beatings!”

  Brighton fought off a grin. “D-do they not get them?”

  Katheryn remained stern a moment longer before bursting into soft laughter. “Not nearly enough, although I am sure my mother tries,” she said. “I am so happy you are going to meet our mother. You will like her a great deal.”

  Brighton had to admit that she was rather curious to see Castle Questing and meet the occupants. Having spent her entire life sequestered at Coldingham, with a very rare trip to Eyemouth on occasion, two trips to two castles in as many days was a great anomaly for her. It was rather disorienting, but also exciting. She was, therefore, quite curious about the big castle where the mighty Wolfe of the Border lived, the great knight she’d heard Patrick speak of.

  The man who would determine her destiny.

  With that in mind, she felt more than a little apprehension as the group made its way through the substantial village that was gathered up around the base of the castle and began to make the trek up the hill. Looking from the window of the carriage, she had to crane her neck back to look up the side of the crag to the massive castle on top of it. She’d never seen anything so big, like an entire city unto itself. The carriage and wagons seemed to have a little trouble going up the hill because the horses were exhausted and the angle was steep, but eventually they made it to the top.

  And that was when the entire world opened up.

  The great gatehouse of Castle Questing was open wide as more people rode out to escort the party inside. Brighton couldn’t really see the gatehouse, just a corner of the massive thing, but she could see the entire eastern and part of the northern side of the walls, which were enormous. She counted four massive, powerfully-built towers, including part of the gatehouse, that were all constructed in the same fashion – the towers flared at the bottom to prevent men from easily mounting them. It was clear that Questing had all sorts of design details that would prevent an attacking army from gaining easy access.

  But that wasn’t the structure’s only defensive feature – a great moat had been dug out upon the rise, looking more like a small lake. Additionally, the enormous walls flared out at the top, extending the battlements outward, which was another design element to prevent an attacking army from easily mounting them. One would have to be a spider to climb up the walls and then scale the underside of the battlements that jutted outward. The entire place was built to withstand a massive siege and then some, a fitting home for the great Wolfe.

  It was impressive and awe-inspiring, this mighty castle at the top of the hill, and Brighton drank it all in. Soon enough, the carriage passed through the gatehouse, which was as big as a keep. They passed through two enormous gates and across a ditch dug inside the gatehouse. The ditch was spanned by an internal drawbridge. Over the ditch, she could see murder holes in the roof of the gatehouse. If some fool army was lucky enough to breach the steel gates, then they had a very large ditch and murder holes inside of the gatehouse to deal with. It was ingenious.

  Once through the treacherous gatehouse, the party spilled into the vast outer bailey. Men swarmed around both the carriage and the wagon behind it. When the door opened, Evelyn was sucked out by a young man who hugged her so hard that she grunted. When he released the woman so she could catch her breath, he reached for Katheryn but she balked.

  “You will not squeeze me so tightly, Thomas de W
olfe,” she scolded. “Try it and I’ll throw a fist into your throat.”

  Thomas laughed. Dark-haired like his brother, Brighton could see some of the family resemblance. But in her opinion, Patrick was much more handsome. Thomas didn’t have nearly his brother’s size, either, but he was nonetheless a handsome male specimen. He was also quite young, perhaps no more than fourteen. He took his sister by the arm as she climbed from the carriage.

  “My lady,” he said, bowing with great exaggeration. “I will treat you like the fragile princess you are. Am I holding you too tightly? Is my voice too loud? Shall it shatter your precious ears?”

  Katheryn sighed heavily, eyeing her brother. “Shut your yap,” she grumbled. But she soon softened, fighting off a grin. “As much as you annoy me, it is still good to see you.”

  Thomas grinned brightly. “May I hug you?”

  Katheryn cocked an eyebrow. “You may, but if you crack bones, I will beat you within an inch of your life.”

  Thomas laughed and took his sister in his arms, giving her a warm hug. He was about to turn away when he caught sight of Brighton, still in the cab. Curiosity – and great interest – suddenly filled his expression. He took on the appearance of a hunter, in this case, for lady flesh. All of those young man urges flowing through his veins lit a fire under him at the sight of a lovely woman.

  “You have brought someone with you,” he said, swiftly moving for the cab. “I did not mean to be rude but I did not see you, my lady. Thomas de Wolfe at your service.”

  He was addressing Brighton and she hesitantly moved for his outstretched hand. But the moment she moved to take it, a mountain of a man was between her and Thomas. She really didn’t even have to see the man’s face to know it was Patrick and her heart began to flutter again. It was as if her heart knew it was him without benefit of sight.