He’d served bravely and the British Army had licked Napoleon. There was no longer any danger of battle. Certainly Rebecca knew the war had come to an end, and yet she still feared being wed to him, to a soldier. He had to go back and try to get through to her. His pulse increased as he blew out a slow breath.
He could not picture the rest of his life without her by his side. He had to fight for her. Maybe in the light of a new day she would be more reasonable. He had to try to sway her for both of their good. She had done her best to put up a strong front back at the ball but he’d seen the truth in the depths of her eyes. Her words had laid waste to her heart just as they’d done to his.
Tugging on the reins, he turned his mount around pushing the horse into a gallop, racing back toward Babylon. Her actions had been a charade meant to scare him off. He focused on the road ahead.
Captain Camden Le Bec did not scare. A chill tickled his spine. He had never in his life shied away from a battle and he’d not start now. Rebecca was worth fighting for. He snapped the reins pushing his horse faster.
Nearly halfway back to the castle he caught sight of another rider. He peered into the distance as the rider guided their mount off the side of the road. Instincts took over as he retrieved his pistol from the saddle holster. He neared the spot where the rider had disappeared with caution, his gaze trained on the roadside. With a steady hand, he stopped his mount aiming his pistol into the blackness of night. “Show yourself or I’ll shoot.”
For a long moment nothing happened then a figure emerged from the shadows. A prickle of recognition raced through him before she came fully into view. He jumped from his saddle, pistol still in hand. “Are you mad? Do you not know the dangers of traveling at night? Alone?” He tucked the gun into his coat and reached for Rebecca running his hands across her shoulders, down her arms. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I came to tell you I’m sorry for what I said before.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “I would rather not hear anymore about why you will not marry me.”
She placed her hands on his cheeks and stared into his eyes. “I came to tell you I love you.”
He turned his head breaking free of her hands. “But you cannot marry me because I’m a soldier.” He studied her gaze. “What if I were no longer in the army?”
“Did you hear me? I said I love you.” She reached for him again. “I do not care about your profession. I love you.”
Had he heard her right? Did she confess her love for him? “Say it again.”
“I want to be your wife.” She glanced down peeking at him through thick lashes. “If you will still have me.”
He swept her into his arms, spun her in a circle, and then set her feet back on the ground. “I will sell my commission, and once it is done we will wed.” He grinned down at her. “I want to make you happy for the rest of your days.” He pulled her close, his arms around her waist.
She tucked herself against him, rested her head on his muscled chest. “Camden.”
“Yes.”
“I was silly being so afraid. You do not have to sell your commission. I love you and being a soldier is part of who you are. It’s your heritage. I would not change you.”
His chest swelled at her declaration. He lowered his head capturing her soft lips. She wound her arms around him pulling him close as she tilted her head welcoming his kiss.
Epilogue
Three weeks later
Rebecca stood in the bailey of Babylon castle tucked against Camden’s side, his arm securely around her. She waved as their wedding guest’s disappeared through Babylon’s gatehouse. Their ceremony had been a simple one. At her request they married in the bailey with the keep as a backdrop to their vows. Her parents, sister, and Daphne attended as well as Camden’s parents and brother. Their ceremony was not done in the traditional way, but it was exactly what she desired.
She gazed up into Camden’s eyes after the last of the carriages disappeared from sight. “I have a gift for you, husband.” Her heart fluttered. Would she ever grow tired of calling him husband? A barrage of tingles unfurled inside of her. No, she did not believe she would.
“You have already given me the best gift imaginable.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead then swept her into his arms.
She laid her head against his chest as he carried her up the stairs, passed their borrowed butler, and into Babylon’s entry hall. He had agreed to spend the first night of their married life within the keep’s walls. Tomorrow he would whisk her away for their honeymoon. “I would like very much to see what is concealed within the old trunk.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. And once we know what it holds, I wish for you to make love to me.” Her cheeks burned at the admission.
He brought his lips to hers, kissing her soundly before lowering her to her feet. “For the rest of my days I shall strive to make your wishes come true.”
“And I yours.” She stood on her toes pressing her lips against his in a gentle kiss. “Now let us see what treasures the trunk holds.”
He knelt beside her and together they lifted the lid. She glanced at him before reaching in to run her hand once more over the red fabric. After sucking in a breath she lifted it from the oak trunk. “I think it’s a gown.” She began spreading the garment out on the floor beside them.
“A medieval kirtle.” He said studying her movements with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. “And chain mail.” He lifted out the heavy garments of iron links.
“Do you suppose they belonged to Sir Kenton and Lady Nicola?” She turned back to the trunk.
“It is possible. They appear old enough to have belonged to them.” He fiddled with the chain mail inspecting the iron links.
Rebecca smiled as she pulled out a man’s tunic and hose. “I would like to think they do, that your ancestors left behind a bit more than their great love story and legacy of battle.”
“Ah, that is where you are wrong.”
She raised one brow as she stared at him. “Wrong how?”
“It is love’s legacy they left behind. For it was love that conquered their hearts bringing them together despite the battle they waged between them.”
“Love’s legacy.” She turned his words over in her mind. One corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile as she met his gaze. “I like the sound of that.” She leaned forward peering into the trunk. A metal box remained inside tucked into a corner of the large chest. Her pulse quickened. There was something inscribed upon the top, but she couldn’t interpret what it said beneath the centuries of tarnish. “Look, and there is something engraved on the top.”
He glanced from her to the box. “Let me see it.”
She placed the silver box in his outstretched hand.
He rubbed his shirtsleeve across the inscription before tilting the box in the light. “It’s Latin, Amor Vincit Omnia.”
“Love conquers all.” She grinned back at him.
He handed her the box. “Open it.”
Her finger shook as she lifted the top to peer inside. A necklace rested on a bed of royal-blue fabric. A miniature painting hung from the chain. Her breath hitched as she stared at the honey-haired woman and dark-haired man, the carved stone hearth of the great hall behind them.
Camden sidled up next to her, his chin just above her shoulder as he studied the piece. The couple bore a striking resemblance to Rebecca and him. He found it hard to pull his gaze away from the bobble. “It is them, Sir Kenton and Lady Nicola.”
She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as emotion overwhelmed her. “It is amazing.” She replaced the lid with care before putting the box back into the chest.
He placed his hand on the side of her face, rubbed his thumb back and forth across her cheekbone. “It pales in comparison to you, my wife.” Her heart soared as he pulled her to her feet. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her into his arms.
Excerpt
Walls of Babylon
by Kathryn LeVeque
Walls of Babylon was the inspiration for Love’s Legacy and tells the story of Kenton and Nicola. Turn the page to read an excerpt from the amazingly talented Kathryn LeVeque’s novel:
Chapter One
Great outer walls soared to the sky with four corner towers, peppered with murder holes from which to shoot arrows at enemy soldiers. A narrow corridor separated the outer from the even taller inner walls, with a great gatehouse and a five-story keep lodged deep inside. Built from sandstone that had been quarried from the very earth around the castle, a big quarry that also created the moat, Babylon Castle was truly a sight to behold. Kenton le Bec thought so as he stood in the center of the inner bailey, eyeing his prize with the utmost satisfaction. Overhead, the day was dawning clear and surprisingly bright for winter weather and his mood was, for all of his exhaustion, amazingly light.
But his expression belied nothing of his inner emotions. The man could be as joyful as a child or as angry as a hornet and no one would know by looking at him. The only thing vassals and soldiers alike knew was that they feared him, and rightfully so. It wasn’t so much that he was thought of as evil; it was more the fact that he was a master at the art of intimidation, so much so that the mere mention of his name within military circles brought chills and whispers of fear.
Peasants and nobles refused to discuss him at all for fear of incurring some distant curse from the know-all, see-all knight of the realm. Anyone who had served with Kenton le Bec knew that the man was unpredictable, unafraid, and as deadly as a snake. Even those closest to him knew to tread carefully, in any situation.
A knight emerged from the massive keep, taking the steps from the second floor entrance down to the muddy bailey. Most of the bodies from the battle had been cleaned up, but there were still a few in a pile near the entrance that were waiting to be burned. Whatever remained of Lord Thorne’s fighting force was now outside the fortress, being held in a pen like a herd of animals while le Bec’s men swarmed over Babylon like a horde of locusts.
There was a smell in the air, of the ugliness after a battle and the rotting dead. But the knights of le Bec’s corps were used to the stench; they lived with it daily. The knight didn’t even flinch as he stepped over someone’s rotting hand, coming to a halt next to his towering liege.
“We’ve found them, Ken.”
Only in private did the knight known as Conor de Birmingham address his superior informally. Having known Kenton since they were newly knighted, he was the only man who could get away with it. Kenton looked away from the walls of his latest acquisition and focused on the big, red-haired warrior.
“Where?”
“Hiding in the cellar beneath the kitchens.”
“How many?”
“Lady Thorne, her three sons, and four servants.”
“No sign of Gaylord?”
“None.”
“Did you ask Lady Thorne?”
“She will not say a word.”
Kenton’s gaze moved in the direction of the keep; it was impossible to read his thoughts, but they were easy to guess. Conor followed his focus.
“Gerik and Ack are with her,” Conor said. “Their manner is, shall we say, easier than yours or mine. Mayhap they will wrest something from her.”
Kenton pondered that advice and promptly ignored it. He started towards the keep. “Gaylord Thorne’s whereabouts continue to be unknown and he, along with this castle, are my objectives. Henry wants them both.”
“So you intend to interrogate his wife yourself?”
“I intend to do what is necessary.”
Conor thought of admonishing him to go easy on the woman, considering she was a delicate lady and knights of the realm were sworn to uphold the code of gentle treatment towards any female, even an enemy. But he bit his tongue; if the wench was foolish enough to resist Kenton, then she deserved whatever she received.
Kenton entered the cool, musty keep and found his way down into the kitchens. Located in the sub-level, it was a low-ceilinged room smelling of smoke and dung, and it was moderately warm. Off to the right, almost hidden behind a table, was an open trap door, and seated against the wall next to the door were several women and three small boys. Soldiers were tying the last of the bindings on the servants. Ducking under the low ceiling, as Kenton was several inches over six feet, he went over to the group.
Two of his knights stood hunched over, their heads brushing against the ceiling. The first man was bear-like with a head of thinning brown hair, while the other man was tall, able, with dark blond hair. Sir Gerik le Mon and Sir Ackerley Forbes, respectively, greeted Kenton with formality. They always greeted him with such manners, though they had served at the top of his command hierarchy for several years. It was the degree of respect that le Bec demanded.
“My lord,” Gerik indicated the frightened, huddled people against the wall. “The elusive Lady Thorne and her household.”
Kenton’s piercing eyes gazed at Gerik a moment; if the man had anything to tell him, he was silently suggesting that now was a good time before he took matters into his own hands. He was weary from battle and in no mood to play games. But Gerik had nothing more to say and Kenton turned his attention to the terrified mass. The diplomacy of their captivity, brief though it were, was about to end.
The first thing he noticed was three little boys gazing back at him; the eldest was perhaps around five years of age, while the other two were identical twins and perhaps around three or four. They were all sandy-headed, well-formed, and regarded him with such challenge that Kenton nearly laughed. He might have, if he had remembered how to do it. To their left sat four cowering women, servants by their clothing, and to their left, it occurred to Kenton, sat the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
He regarded her a moment, studying her porcelain features and the long, honey-colored hair that clung to her slender neck and spilled over her pale shoulders. She wasn’t particularly young, nor was she old, but caught in that timeless limbo of a woman who is truly ageless. Were he to guess, he would suspect she was somewhere around her twenty-fifth year. But he had never seen a woman with her maturity look so positively perfect.
The woman gazed back at him with the emotionless expression of someone who had seen much in a lifetime. He knew she was terrified, but he admired the fact that she didn’t show it. Wisdom had taught her that. Her magnificent eyes were the palest shade of green and her lips and cheeks were kissed a rosy hue. He had no idea how long he had been staring at her and suddenly felt very foolish that he had been doing so.
“You’re le Bec?”
Kenton blinked, realizing the woman had brashly spoken first. But her voice was soft, soothing, like the pelt of a gentle rain on a warm summer night. He deliberately didn’t answer her, slowly removing his gauntlets and tucking them into the elbow of the armor on his left arm.
“Your name, Madam?”
She was intentionally slow in replying. “Lady Nicola Aubrey-Thorne.”
“Where is your husband, Lady Thorne?”
Her gaze lingered on him a moment before lowering. Kenton watched her long, thick lashes sweep her cheek defiantly. If nothing else, she was brave. Stupid, but brave. He would waste no more time with her. Kenton glanced at Conor and, with an imperceptible nod of his head, had the knight yank Lady Thorne to her feet.
The little boys went wild. Their hands were tied but their feet weren’t, and the twins jumped up and began kicking the nearest knight, who happened to be Gerik. The serving women screamed and cried out to the boys, but the little men refused to listen. When Gerik put a large palm on each child’s head and pushed them back to the floor, the eldest boy popped up, fully prepared to defend his mother to the death.
“Let her go!” he commanded. “You let my mother go or I’l
l get you, do you hear? I’ll get you!”
Conor ignored the boys soundly. They may as well have been mice for all of the regard he gave them. He handed the struggling lady off to Kenton, who took her by the arm and pulled her across the kitchen. On the opposite side of the room, she was torn between defying the enormous knight and watching her little boys pick a fight. Welfare for her children won out.
“Tab!” Nicola hissed. “Stop it this instant. Teague, Tiernan, be quiet. Do you hear me? Be quiet!”
Her attention wasn’t on Kenton. He braced one arm on either side of her head, forcing her to look at him without so much as laying a finger on her. The woman gazed up at him with those clear green eyes and Kenton stared back; he wanted to make sure she understood what he was about to say, plainly.
“Lady Thorne,” he rumbled. “I will say this one time only, so listen carefully. I have come a long way and have lost many men in acquisition of this castle. It is now mine. You and your family are my prisoners. I will ask you where your husband is and you will tell me, truthfully, or I will remove those three boys from this place and you will never see them again. Is this in any way unclear, my lady?”
Nicola paled. “Since when do knights murder children?”
“My patience is at an end, Madam. You will give me the answer I seek.”
Tears suddenly glimmered in her eyes. “I… please, you do not understand.”
“I understand all too well that you are protecting an enemy of the rightful king of England.”
“I am not protecting him at all. I am protecting my children.”
“You speak in riddles. I told you I would not ask again.”
Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales Page 23