Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Agreed,” he said. “But on the possibility that this could be de Llion’s father, mayhap you should summon him from Northumberland. When I go to mediate with the mercenary, I will bring this knight with me. Even if it is not the man’s long-lost father, mayhap he will recognize him and it will unbalance him enough for me to gain the upper hand. I am not beyond playing dirty tricks when the life of a young girl is at stake.”

  Jax whole-heartedly agreed. “I will send word to Northumberland today,” he said. “But it will take time for Morgan to arrive. I am not sure I want to wait that long to begin negotiations for my child.”

  Christopher shook his head. “You will not have to,” he said. “I have the luxury of thinking more clearly about the situation right now than you do, and I believe that we should send this mercenary a missive telling him that you have asked me to assist with the negotiations and we want to know what his terms are in exchange for your daughter. I might even tell him that we have an old knight from Four Crosses who survived the siege but nothing more than that. Let his imagination run wild. That should garner an immediate and, I would think, eager response.”

  Jax felt much better with Christopher taking the lead on the negotiations. It was what he had hoped for. This man was much better at communicating than he was and he could see why – he was gracious, well-spoken, strong, and highly intelligent. Aye, there was much to respect there. Finally, he felt as if he were one step closer to getting Allaston back and he was deeply grateful.

  “Then I shall trust your judgment,” he said. “And… thank you. I am not accustomed to showing gratitude to anyone, but please know that you have my most heartfelt thanks.”

  Christopher poured them both more wine, the last of the pitcher, and held up his cup. “I was content with having you swear your sword to me,” he said. “Imagine how feared I will be when all know I have The Dark Lord in my arsenal.”

  Jax grinned, holding up his cup to the man. “Beware,” he said. “It may bring you less awe than you think. There are those who still hate me a great deal.”

  Christopher shrugged, sipping at his wine. The sweet, potent alcohol had already gone to his head a little. “What do we care?” he said. “I will simply have you go out and kill them. Then no one will hate you because they will all be dead.”

  Jax laughed softly. “The last man I killed was fifteen years ago during a border raid against the Scots,” he said. “I fear that I may be out of practice.”

  Christopher looked at him, suddenly appearing very sober. “If negotiations with this mercenary fail, then we will have no alternative but to take the field,” he said grimly. “We will need your sword, out of practice or not.”

  Jax’s gaze held the man steady. “Then you intend to go into battle with me?”

  “You have not formally asked me to.”

  “I would not dare to hope. But I would be deeply honored if you would.”

  Christopher smiled. “Then that makes us allies, you and me.”

  Jax shook his head with awe. “I never thought I would see the day when Christopher de Lohr, the most respected knight in England, would ally himself with me.”

  Christopher’s grin broadened as he brought his cup up again and tipped it against Jax’s in a show of solidarity, of unity, and of a new alliance.

  “It is better to be the right hand of Lucifer,” he said softly, “than in his path.”

  Jax lifted an eyebrow. “So you have agreed to help me simply so I will not be insulted and turn against you?”

  Christopher was ambivalent. “Think what you will.”

  Jax had to laugh at him. After that, the conversation moved on to other subjects and more food was brought out. Jax actually shared a conversation with Edward, who was able to overcome his fear of the man and behave intelligently. Lady de Lohr even returned with her children in tow, four of them, two young girls who were around five and six years of age, and two toddler boys. The younger girl, Brielle, had absolutely no fear of Jax and even came to sit next to him, very curious about the strange man in her father’s hall. Jax lost himself in conversation with a five year old who reminded him very much of Allaston at that age. It made him miss her all the more.

  Chatting with de Lohr and his family and his knights, Jax felt more at home and more comfortable with these strangers than he had with almost anyone, ever. He had never understood alliances or relationships outside of his own family, but at the moment, he was coming to. He understood that these people had overlooked his reputation, the darkness he perpetuated, and were willing to see the man beneath. They were willing to help the fearful father. Eventually, Jax sent word to his army that all was well, and Cole and Julian came forward to join their father in Lioncross’ massive hall.

  Before the day was finished, Christopher set out a missive to Cloryn Castle, the rumored seat of the mercenary. It contained all of the terms he had discussed with Jax earlier in the day with instructions to the messenger to leave it at Cloryn’s gate and ride like hell home. They didn’t want the mercenary getting his hands on one of Christopher’s men.

  All that was left now to do was to wait.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Cloryn Castle

  Allaston was on her hands and knees in front of Bretton, her buttocks in the air. It was such a perfect target and he knew it, but at this moment, he was so furious at her for pushing him in front of his men that he could hardly see straight.

  He was a killer, and he was her captor, and he was more than capable of taking her life in a most heinous manner. Everyone looking at him was expecting him to do it, waiting for the moment when he would ram the sharp end of the pole into her intestines, punishing her for her insolence and disobedience once and for all. Aye, he knew what his men were expecting and had anyone else been the target, he would have complied without hesitation. But it wasn’t just anyone else. It was Allaston.

  He was angry with her. Positively furious. So much so that when she turned her round little buttocks into the air, he came up behind her with the pole and, just to scare her, rammed it underneath her so that it slid up between her knees and hands, underneath her body. Startled, she barely had time to shriek before he was grabbing her around the waist and spanking her within an inch of her life.

  At least five good whacks, right on the backside, and Allaston howled in pain. Then, Bretton grabbed her by the long, dark braid of hair and pulled her through the forest of bodies until they reached his horse. She was weeping and gasping with pain, and fright, as he picked her up and tossed her, belly down, across his saddle. Mounting up behind her, he spurred his charger towards the group that was preparing to accompany him to Newtown. He positively bellowed at them.

  “Return to Cloryn,” he yelled. “I am going to teach this wench a lesson once and for all. Go back and wait for me!”

  He was so mad that Grayton and Teague didn’t question him in the least. They immediately directed the escort party back to the great gates of Cloryn while Bretton thundered off down the road with Allaston slung across his saddle. As the escort party moved back into the bailey, the two commanders lingered at the gatehouse, watching Bretton race down the road with the prisoner, suspecting he was going to do to the woman what he should have done at the beginning. He was either going to murder her and bury the body, or he was going to make her wish she was dead. Either thought pleased them greatly.

  But Bretton wasn’t going to kill her. He had to publicly beat her so he wouldn’t lose the respect of his men, and even then, he was sure they were suspicious of his intentions towards her. He knew that Grayton’s argument about the fact that she was Jax de Velt’s daughter, their greatest asset and a prisoner to boot, would have some effect on his men. Grayton was very loyal to him but he also had strong opinions. Bretton was fairly certain Grayton wouldn’t turn his men against him, but he would certainly turn them against Allaston.

  So he had to remove her, to get her away from the situation, and as he pounded down the road from Cloryn, he came to a crossroad
s within a quarter of a mile and began to head south. Then, and only then, did he slow the animal’s pace because he was certain the rough ride was not at all comfortable on Allaston as she lay on her belly in front of him. To her credit, however, she hadn’t muttered a sound.

  The horse slowed to a walk. Bretton shifted his reins to the other hand and promptly smacked her on the butt again, hard enough so that she grunted. He eyed her dark head.

  “Are you conscious?” he asked.

  Allaston nodded her head. “Aye.”

  She sounded ill. Grasping the back of her surcoat, he slid her off of the horse and onto the ground. Allaston hit feet first but she lost her balance and fell back onto her sore bottom, wincing as she did so. Bretton pulled the horse to a stop and looked down at her.

  “Well?” he said, sounding displeased. “What do you have to say for your behavior back there?”

  Allaston was slowly getting up, brushing off her bottom as she moved rather unsteadily. “What would you have me say?” she asked, refusing to look at him. “You killed that woman and her family. It was….”

  He cut her off. “Allow me to clarify the situation,” he said. “I did not kill her and her husband. My men did. As for the boy, I am not sure who did that, but everything that was done was completed at my direction.”

  She looked at him, then. “But why?” she wanted to know, pain in her voice. “Why would you do such a thing? You allowed that lady to be… abused horrifically and then killed. She committed no crime against you!”

  Bretton would not be reprimanded and he struggled to hold his temper in check. “Such is the nature of conquest, lady,” he told her. “Your father did the same thing. He killed everything that moved because anything left alive, no matter how seemingly innocuous at the time, can at some day or some time be a threat. I am a perfect example of that. I escaped to live as Jax de Velt destroyed my home. Now, I have come back to kill him. And I shall.”

  Allaston wasn’t going to be sucked into another argument against killing her father. They’d had that conversation too many times. “You had the chance to hurt him very badly back there,” she said. “You should have put me on a pole.”

  “And, yet, I did not,” he said. “You are more valuable to me alive than dead at the moment, but that may change.”

  “So you have said.”

  “You do not believe me?”

  Allaston wasn’t in any mood to be toyed with. “I believe you like to play games with me,” she said bitterly. “You have moments when you are quite rational and quite human, and I feel comfort with you, and then you have times like this when you are mad with vengeance and all you do is threaten. Do you know what I think? I do not think even you know what it is you want out of life. You want to kill my father, that is true, but I do not think you know what you want to do after that is accomplished or even what you want to do with me. Sometimes you treat me like a prisoner, other times like a companion. You are a man in great turmoil, de Llion, and you have sucked me into the turmoil with you.”

  As always, she was quite astute. His first reaction was to rage at her but he found that he couldn’t because she was right. Everything she said was correct. Puzzled, and feeling reprimanded, he did what he often did when faced with such things – he withdrew. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore because he didn’t want her to get the better of him. This novice nun, this prisoner, and this beautiful woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind, had increasing control over him.

  When Bretton fell silent and turned away from her, Allaston studied the man closely. He tended to brood when he didn’t have an answer to what she was saying. She’d seen it before. Be kind to him. She’d tried that before but it hadn’t worked. She’s tried to fight him, too, and that hadn’t worked, either. However, now they knew each other better and she was coming to understand him a bit more. Deep down, his vengeance was a result of a horrible sadness, something inadvertently perpetrated against him by Jax de Velt.

  Just like everyone, Bretton wanted to be satisfied in life. He was not satisfied now and he believed that killing Jax would lead him to gratification. Allaston thought a moment on how she could help him find contentment and perhaps save her father at the same time. After the man had refused to put her on a pole, even after she’d provoked him, she had a feeling he might be more apt to listen to her persuasion.

  “De Llion,” she said softly, moving in his direction. “Bretton. May I call you Bretton?”

  He looked at her, seeing that she was coming towards him. “You will whether or not I want you to,” he said, rolling his eyes with exasperation. “You never do anything I want you to do.”

  She smiled agreeably. “Bretton,” she began quietly. “When my father set out to conquer Four Crosses those years ago, it was not with the express intent to hurt you or ruin your life. You were simply collateral damage. Surely you understand that.”

  “I do.”

  She thought carefully on what she would say next. “I do not believe that we are all born predisposed to what we will become,” she said. “In other words, you were not born to be a killer. I am sure you were born a very sweet little boy who loved his parents very much. You probably had pets and toys like all children do. What you have become since that time… you chose to become a killer and to seek vengeance against my father, who inadvertently ruined your life. Killing him will not bring your parents back and it will not suddenly make you a happy and content man. On the contrary, I believe it will leave you more empty and angry than before. You will not find the true happiness you seek in another man’s murder. Therefore, I want to make you a proposal.”

  He was trying not to look interested. In fact, he waved her off. “There is nothing that you can propose to me that will satisfy me.”

  “Will you at least hear me?”

  He rolled his eyes again. “I am sure I have little choice but I will tell you again that it will do no good.”

  Allaston was going to give it her best try. She had always been persuasive. She hoped her luck would continue to hold.

  “I decided when I was twelve years old that I wanted to become a nun,” she said. “I have always wanted to serve Our Holy Father as a Bride of Christ, but I am not sure anymore if that is something that will make me happy. Let me explain… my happiness lies within my family. It took me a long time to realize that and even as I served at Alberbury, it was not happy. I missed my family, my parents and siblings, because I believe the love of a family is something God has given to us to enjoy and to appreciate. Even before you came and abducted me, I was coming to think that I had been misplaced at Alberbury. I was not particularly happy for the reasons I just outlined. I wanted to go home and spend time with my family, and mayhap someday have a family of my own and a home of my own. Isn’t that something you would like to have as well? A wife who is loyal and children who love you?”

  Bretton was looking at her again, the bright blue eyes guarded. “I would like heirs but only to carry on my name,” he said. “A wife and children will simply be something else that belongs to me – possessions.”

  It was a cold way to view it and she wasn’t entirely sure she believed him. There was something about the man that suggested he wasn’t completely emotionless as he wanted others to believe. He was simply afraid of being hurt again, of losing someone he loved. In many ways, Bretton was still that little boy who had been so devastated by the loss of his parents and sister. She went forward with her proposal.

  “I do not want to see my father killed, especially when it will not bring you the relief or happiness you seek,” she said. “I understand the love of a family, Bretton. I understand how it can fill you like nothing else and my father, after those years of warfare, understands it, too. The love of my mother was strong enough to make him stop his dreams of conquest. Love is the greatest thing of all. Therefore, because I love my father, I am willing to make this sacrifice – I know I told you that I would kill myself I you ever touched me, and I swore I would not agree to
marry you, but the situation has changed. I will offer myself to you as your bride if you will cease your vengeance against my father. When you marry me, I come with a dowry – my father has several castles and since I am his eldest daughter, I have been given Belford Castle on the Scots border. My dowry was promised to Alberbury when I took my final vows, but since I have not taken them, the property still belongs to me. I have an annual income of three hundred gold crowns a year as well. All of this will be yours if you marry me and cease your vengeance against my father. Will you at least consider it?”

  Bretton gazed steadily at her. He couldn’t quite bring himself to deny her but he didn’t understand why. Perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to have her by his side, as his wife, because clearly, she had grown on him since the day he had abducted her. In fact, he couldn’t imagine not having her around. But he wasn’t yet ready to give up on his vengeance against de Velt, not when it had been part of him for so long. Torn, he averted his eyes, sighing heavily as he did so. Allaston, not receiving any manner of answer, moved towards him so that she was standing by his left leg. She looked up at him earnestly.

  “Remember when you were a child and your father meant so much to you?” she asked, trying to tear down his walls of resistance. “Think of the family we might have – a son or two, or even three. Mayhap even a few daughters. Think of what they would mean to you and how you, as their father, would be proud of them. That kind of pride is so much better than the empty victory my father’s death will bring you. Can you understand that?”

  He looked at her, sharply. “I understand a boy’s adoration of his father,” he said. “Your father deprived me of that.”

  “But you can find it again with your own son,” she insisted, daring to put a hand on his leg. “Will you at least consider it?”

  He could feel her hand on his leg, searing him through the leather of his boot. He was so bloody confused and conflicted that he could hardly see straight. He simply couldn’t give her the answer she wanted and it tore at him because so much of what she said made sense. So much of what she said was attractive to him. But he couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. Reaching down, he took a firm grip on her wrist and pulled her up, onto the saddle behind him.