Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Patrick didn’t have an answer to that. But it made him think of what he had discussed with his knights earlier with regard to the lady’s secret; it is clear that someone, somewhere, knew of her identity other than the old nun and the mother of the child. And that information has made its way to Clan Swinton.

  Was it possible the mother prioress allowed the information to leak to the Swinton?

  Or perhaps she told someone who did?

  Patrick couldn’t honestly imagine that was the case. But it did spell out the fact that more than Sister Acha knew of Brighton’s true identity.

  If there was one, there had to be more.

  “I cannot say, my lady,” he said, trying to be of some comfort. “But I swear to you on my oath as a knight that your Sister Acha told me of your true lineage. I am not entirely sure she wanted me to tell you, but I believe it is your right to know. It is not my privilege to withhold that information from you.”

  Brighton pondered his statement for a few moments. She was feeling comfortable enough with Patrick’s presence to come away from the wall, meandering in the direction of the hearth. With that comfort, her stammer, which usually happened only when she was nervous or stressed, faded away.

  “It is not something I am prepared to hear or even accept,” she said, coming into the light. “I would very much like to speak to Mother Prioress about this. If only she could tell me what she knows, mayhap she can confirm what Sister Acha told you. At least then I would have no cause for doubt.”

  Patrick didn’t really hear much after her first few words. Once she came into the light, he was stricken by the ethereal vision of a stunning beauty draped in white and illuminated by the flames. Her hair, long and silky, tumbled down her back. But that sweet, delicate face was lined with strife. He found himself watching her lips as she spoke, watching the way the corners of her mouth curled upward. He could have watched her speak forever, for certainly, she was an enchanting creature.

  And she was more enchanting by the moment.

  But he realized she was expecting a response to whatever she said and he had to think hard on the words she’d spoken, struggling to remember just a few. He didn’t want to ask her to repeat herself; that would have been humiliating. But, then again, he could watch her lips as she spoke again.

  Those luscious, curvy lips….

  “Although I promised your nurse that I would protect you, the truth is that I gave my word before realizing the full impact of the situation,” he said. “I am to leave for London and a royal appointment in a fortnight and it will make it difficult for me to keep my vow. I am, therefore, taking you to my father upon the morrow. He is a great warrior and a very wise man. I believe it would be wise to seek his counsel. You will be safe at Castle Questing until he can decide what is to be done. Until then, I hope you will enjoy the hospitality of the House of de Wolfe.”

  She regarded him, half of her face illuminated by the firelight. “Then you will not take me back to Coldingham?”

  So they were back to that subject again. He cocked his head. “My lady, do you really wish to return only to be abducted again?”

  “There is no certainty that I will.”

  “Are you willing to take that chance?”

  She sighed, frustrated. The stammer began to return. “B-but you do not know that for certain,” she said. “Mayhap these men who seek me will forget about me entirely. I am willing to take the chance that they will.”

  Patrick took a few steps into the room, closing the door enough so that it was cracked and their voices wouldn’t carry so much. There were several people asleep on this level and he didn’t want raised voices waking them. For what he was about to say, it was quite possible that the next raised voice would be Brighton’s.

  “Let us assume you are wrong,” he said. “Let us say that I return you to Coldingham and deliver you back to the mother prioress, as you have asked. Now you are home but the priory you have known all your life is no longer safe for anyone, least of all you. Clan Swinton broke the sanctity of a priory to get to you and I would be willing to believe that one or more nuns lost their lives in the process. They do not care who they harm in their quest to abduct you. So by taking you back to Coldingham, not only is your life in danger, but so is everyone else’s. Are you truly so determined to return there now that you know that? I cannot believe that you would be so selfish.”

  She was both surprised and hurt by his words. “I-I am not being selfish,” she insisted. “I simply want to go home. You cannot fault me for wanting to go home.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Nay, I cannot fault you for wanting to go home, but I have repeatedly explained to you why it would not be a good idea,” he said. “Let me take it a step further. Let me tell you what will happen once Clan Swinton is able to return you to their stronghold. They will more than likely throw you in the vault or lock you in a chamber. You will be fortunate if you have a food or fire. They will treat you like a commodity, a bargaining piece, because that is all you will mean to them. I can only imagine they will try to ransom you but while they wait, each man in the clan will more than likely violate you in ways I will not describe. I think you understand what I mean. They have no such restraint and no reason to keep you pure and untouched while they await their ransom demand. Then, depending on who pays your ransom, you could be given over to another clan you do not know and those men might very well do the same thing to you. Are you understanding any of what I am telling you, my lady?”

  Brighton was looking up at him, her eyes swimming in tears. “T-that is a despicable thing to say.”

  “It is the truth.”

  “Y-you could be wrong.”

  “Then I will ask you this one last time – are you willing to take that chance? If you are, then I will return you to Coldingham tomorrow and you can take your chances. But know this; I will not return to save you again. If I leave you at Coldingham, I wash my hands of you and of my vow, because you clearly have no grasp of what I am trying to do – I am trying to help you. If you are too foolish to take that help, then I have nothing more to say.”

  She maintained her focus on him, staring him down just as he was staring her down. It was will against will at this point and, to tell the truth, Patrick had no intention of returning her to Coldingham even if she asked it of him. He was willing to bank on the fact that somehow, someway, he was getting through to her so she understood what, exactly, her desire to return home entailed. It wasn’t a simple thing in the least.

  He was hoping to scare her into staying. He could only pray she was smart enough to realize it.

  After an eternity of staring at each other, Brighton finally broke away. Patrick watched as she quickly wiped at her eyes, flicking away any tears that might be bold enough to escape.

  “T-then what will happen to me if I do not return?” she asked, looking into the fire. “I have no family and nowhere to go. What will become of me?”

  He eased up his serious stance, relieved that she was at least considering what he was saying. In fact, he was vastly relieved and trying not to show it.

  “I do not know,” he said honestly. “That is why I want to take you to Castle Questing and to my father. He will know what to do. Mayhap you will end up as a lady-in-waiting in a fine house or, mayhap, you will become a nurse to a family of children. There are many things for you, I think. You must not despair. My father will help you.”

  He was trying to sound positive, as if there was hope for her future. It seemed to work because her tears eased. Whatever turmoil was roiling in her heart, he seemed to soothe the pain. It was actually quite kind of him to do it; giving comfort to a woman he didn’t even know. A woman who had fought him at every turn.

  She dared to look at him again.

  “T-then I suppose I should thank you for making me your burden, Sir Patrick,” she said. “It was a great presumption for Sister Acha to extract a promise from you to watch over me and you were kind to agree. I suppose a lesser man would not have
.”

  Patrick sensed that, finally, the hostile barrier was down between them. He hadn’t honestly been sure that would ever happen. Feeling the least bit more personable towards her, he took a step in her direction.

  “I realize you do not know me,” he said quietly. “I do not know you and all we have really known of each other has been violent and sorrowful. But please be assured that I am an honorable man and I will protect you until it is no longer my duty to do so. You will be safe, Lady Brighton, I swear it.”

  It was a chivalrous declaration. As Brighton gazed up into his pale green eyes, she began to feel something she’d never felt before. It was like a burning in her belly, a slow burn that spread throughout her limbs and caused her knees to shake. Looking into Patrick’s handsome face also caused her to feel a bit lightheaded and she had no idea why. Perhaps it was because she was upset and exhausted. Or perhaps she was simply being ridiculous. All she knew was that looking at the man made her want to collapse right into him. Quickly averting her gaze, she took a step away from him.

  “I-I believe you,” she said, struggling against the giddiness. “I-I suppose I have little choice but to trust you. I do not mean it the way it sounds, but it is the truth.”

  Patrick felt the warmth between them as well, something that sparked the moment he came near her and looked deeply into her eyes. In fact, even as she moved away from him, he couldn’t take his eyes from her, his gaze moving down that beautiful hair and noting her luscious womanly figure beneath the wool. He’d never seen finer and, more and more, his appreciation for her beauty was turning in to something else. He wasn’t quite sure yet, but something was changing for him.

  And it scared him to death.

  “Then please enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said, moving back to the door, realizing that his cheeks were actually flushed. God’s Bones, am I giddy? “We shall leave at dawn on the morrow and my sisters are preparing a traveling bag for you. If you need anything this night, there is a servant in the hall at all times or my… my sister’s doorway is down by the top of the steps.”

  He had almost said that his chamber was right next to hers, suggesting that she could come to him if she needed anything. But that wouldn’t be proper nor would it be safe. Whatever you think you’re feeling for the girl, kill it! He told himself as he put his hand on the latch and opened her chamber door wide. He wasn’t even waiting for an answer to his statement but before he could get clear of the chamber, he could hear Brighton’s soft voice behind him.

  “Y-you have my thanks, my lord,” she said. “You have been most kind amidst trying circumstances and if I have appeared ungrateful, then I apologize. I know you are only doing what you believe to be right.”

  Patrick paused and, against his better judgment, turned to look at her. Softly lit by the glowing fire, he swore he was looking at an angel.

  “You have not appeared ungrateful,” he said. “And it is my pleasure to be of service, my lady.”

  He turned again, quickly, to leave, but she stopped him. “T-that is something else I must mention,” she said. “You need not address me as ‘my lady’. I am a mere postulate, after all, and not bred from nobility. ‘Mistress’ or even ‘sister’ will do.”

  His gaze lingered on her even as he reached out to pull the door shut behind him. “Given that I believe what Sister Acha said, it would appear that you are far more than a mere postulate,” he said quietly. “And I will continue to address you with a term of respect and nobility. Get used to it.”

  With that, he pulled the door shut behind him, simply to cut short his view of her. He wasn’t entirely sure he would be strong enough to leave had he gazed upon her much longer.

  God’s Bones, what is in your head? He scolded himself silently, making haste for his own chamber and shutting the door softly behind him. He even bolted it for good measure, as if that would stop him from wandering out to the lady’s door again. And what a lady she was.

  Giddy? Indeed, he was.

  Foolish?

  … more than he wanted to admit.

  He didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  To flee or not to flee… that is the question….

  Aye, Brighton wanted to flee. At least, she thought she did. Now was her opportunity, out in the wide open spaces of the road.

  But something was holding her back.

  It could have been the fact that there were several big knights riding escort to their traveling party, men on fast horses that could easily catch her if she decided to run. Or it could be because Lady Katheryn and Lady Evelyn had been as kind as possible to her that morning, helping her to dress in traveling clothes, making her feel as if she was honored and special. It could also be because she had been introduced to Lady Katheryn and Lady Evelyn’s children that morning, delightful boys and girls who were quite enchanting and happy. They reminded her that there was joy still left in the world. Or, it could be because Patrick had made an impact with her the night before.

  She was scared to return home.

  There was also something about Patrick himself.

  The day, in early June, was clear and mild, and Brighton found herself in a carriage with Lady Katheryn and Lady Evelyn, and Lady Evelyn’s baby. The child was not quite a year old, a red-cheeked cherub named Adele. The baby looked a good deal like her father, the tall red-haired knight, Hector, and she had been smiling at Brighton since nearly the moment they’d left Berwick. Brighton couldn’t help but smile back.

  The other de Norville and Hage children were riding in another carriage, at least the younger ones were. But three of the boys – Lady Katheryn’s two eldest, Edward and Axel, and Lady Evelyn’s eldest boy, Atreus, were riding ponies near the carriage, shepherded by their fathers.

  Lady Katheryn and her husband had three boys, the youngest one, Christoph, riding in the wagon, and Lady Evelyn had two boys and two girls, with one son, Hermes, and her other daughter, Lisbet, also riding in the wagon. Four big dogs rounded out the passengers and were companions as well as protectors to the offspring.

  It was quite a tribe of children and pets that had come along in the escort heading for Castle Questing. Because there were so many women and children, Patrick and the other knights had doubled the number of men-at-arms and, even now, heavily-armed men on horseback rode in concentration around the wagons and carriage. Lady Katheryn had noticed them from the start of their journey and, even now as they bumped down the road, she kept glancing up from her sewing, peering from the cab window.

  “There are so many armed men out there, it looks as if they are escorting the pope,” she muttered. “Does Patrick truly believe we are going to be set upon? We are flying de Wolfe banners, for Heaven’s sake. Anyone would have to be daft to attack us.”

  Evelyn shifted the baby, looking out of the window. “We would make a very large target,” she said. Then, she caught sight of something in the distance and smiled. “Look at Atreus. He is so happy to be riding his new pony. I have never seen Hector so proud.”

  Katheryn grinned as she stabbed at her sewing. “So is Alec,” she said. “He spent an hour instructing Eddie and Axel this morning before he ever let them on the ponies. I do believe this is the first time we have ever traveled and allowed the boys to ride on their own.”

  Evelyn nodded, looking from the window a moment longer before pulling her head inside. “Mother will be so thrilled to see them,” she said. “They have grown in even the past few months when she last saw them.”

  Katheryn agreed. “She will,” she said. Then, she cast a sidelong glance at her sister. “Was it difficult to convince Hector not to stop at Northwood Castle to visit his parents? We passed close to them a while back, I think. I heard Alec say something about it.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “We see his father all of the time. You know that Paris comes to Berwick whenever he can because he has two sons there. It was not difficult to pass Northwood this time.”

  Small talk bounced between th
e sisters; talk of children and of their mother and father, and of family at Northwood Castle, which evidently wasn’t far away. Tucked in the corner of the carriage, Brighton listened to it all. The sisters weren’t deliberately being rude but Brighton was rather glad they’d left her out of the conversation; she didn’t feel much like talking. She found her thoughts drifting to the countryside, to Coldingham, and to her uncertain future.

  Here she was, traveling with unfamiliar people – people she considered the enemy – but they had all been very kind to her. No one had treated her as an enemy and, perhaps, that was part of the reason she was increasingly reluctant to flee. These English were kind and welcoming people. It was all quite confusing, but there were things about this new world that weren’t so bad.

  She might even come to like it someday.

  “I am very sorry, my lady.” Katheryn’s soft voice cut into her thoughts. “We have not meant to exclude you from the conversation. We would be very pleased to speak on any subject you choose.”

  Brighton tore her gaze away from the carriage window, turning to the women who were smiling politely at her. She forced a smile in return.

  “Y-you were not excluding me,” she said. “I was content with my own thoughts.”

  Katheryn smiled. “That is sweet of you to forgive us our insult,” she said. “We did not have much chance for pleasant conversation last night or this morning, really. I have not even had the chance to ask you if your clothing fits adequately.”

  Brighton looked down at herself. She was wearing a dark blue woolen traveling dress, lightweight, with layers of shifts beneath it. The garment was cinched tightly in the waist, giving her a rather exquisite appearance. She was full-breasted, something she’d never really paid any attention to because she’d spent her entire life in ill-fitting woolen robes. This morning when the ladies had put the traveling dress on her was the first time she’d ever noticed she actually had a figure and it was a stunning one. She thought she might have seen the English knights, including Patrick, give her second glances when she’d climbed into the carriage that morning, attention that embarrassed her. She’d never known anything like it before.