His Rival's Daughter (Stafford Family Book 1)

by Catherine Woodville

  His Rival’s Daughter

  by

  Catherine Woodville

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

  the work of author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to

  actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

  entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Natalija Stepanova

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

  Reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by

  any means, including photocopying, recording, or other

  electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior

  written permission of the author, except in the case of

  brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain

  other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, write to the author.

  First paperback edition November 2019

  His Rival’s Daughter

  Chapter One

  England, 1459.

  William Stafford, Baron de Broke, stood at the edge of the dark meadow. Silent. Waiting. Only his gaze moved across the emptiness of the night, searching for any sign of approach. William’s ears strained for the slightest whisper, but there was only the pounding of his own heart. He’d faced death fearlessly in battle many times; those who knew the skilled warrior would scoff to see him acting like a trembling youth on his first tryst.

  The moon cast long shadows over his large, muscular body, highlighting the firm, straight mouth, grey eyes, and long raven hair curling down to the neck of his woollen jacket.

  William reassured himself. Jane would come. This meeting with her was arranged weeks ago, and William was sure that she anticipated it as much as he did, particularly now that her husband was dead.

  He cursed and began pacing when memories of her marriage flooded him. He had loved Jane since he was but a youth and begged for her hand. But her father, the old bastard, had been adamant in his desire to marry his daughter off to a wealthier man. When she finally married, William wanted to stop their secret meetings, but Jane pleaded with him not to leave her. She told him she needed him more than ever. He’d been unable to resist her tears, and they had continued their trysts during her three-year marriage. Their meetings were too few and far between to bring any satisfaction, though.

  Now everything had changed. A week ago, William learnt that Jane’s husband died, and she was free. Free for him. Just the thought made his blood sing. He was going to marry her, and nothing stood in his way.

  The silence was broken when his horse snorted and lifted her head in alarm, her bridle and harness jingling. The next moment William heard hoof beats approach from the side of the meadow. He turned, his hand reflexively reaching to the dagger at his belt. The rhythm of the hoofbeats slowed, the leaves at the edge of the clearing rustled, and William saw a horse with a familiar rider emerging from the bushes. Jane.

  He was beside her instantly, a smile softening his rugged features.

  “William,” Jane whispered, falling into his arms, “my sweet William.”

  He caught her around the slender waist he knew so well, pulling her away from her horse and hard against his own body. When her feet touched the ground, he held her tight, savouring the feeling of her softness against his hard muscles. He held her with desperation, as if he were afraid that she would disappear, just like she did in his dreams. He had not realized how much he missed her until she was in his arms. Her warmth reminded William of the passion they always shared, and his desire started building.

  Unable to control his passion, he began to cover her face and neck with light fast kisses, until his lips reached hers. He lost his head when she answered the kiss and their tongues began a wild dance. His desire fully aroused, William began frantically pulling at the tabs and laces that kept her clothing in place, his lips never leaving hers. Soon enough Jane was naked, her clothes piled in a heap near her feet.

  William broke the kiss and stepped back slightly to look at her. The moon painted her slender figure with silvery light. Jane was a beautiful woman, hardly reaching William’s shoulders. Her small firm breasts moved with her breaths, heavy with passion. The cascade of her long, blond, curly hair covered her shoulders and fell down her back. This woman was his forest nymph, made for him alone to love.

  Jane stepped away from him and William clearly saw desire in her eyes. Her voice sounded throaty as she spoke, “Why are you still dressed?”

  The sound of her voice broke through his lust clouded daze, and he hastily removed his clothing, sending it to the ground near Jane’s.

  Jane slowly circled him, coming up behind him and lightly placing her small hand on his flat stomach. She loved the feel of him, and how he was always ready for her. Slowly, she moved her hand down to his manhood. He shivered with pleasure and turned to face her. She landed a kiss on his lips and moved to kneel on their clothes, pulling him down and into her embrace. Kneeling in front of her he kissed her neck. Jane moaned with pleasure and threw her head back. It was all the encouragement he needed.

  As he kissed her collarbone and moved to kiss her breast, Jane pulled him closer.

  “I want you now,” she whispered in a low, husky voice, “inside me,” and pulled him the rest of the way to the ground, wrapping her legs around his hips as he covered her body with his.

  In the beginning of their relationship, it took William aback that Jane did not like spending time caressing one another, building their way to passion, but he’d learned that she did not need the honeyed words and tender touches other women craved. She loved it fast and hard. Far be it from him to object. He moved on top of her, his manhood hard and ready. When he thrust into her, she groaned with pleasure, her hands firmly on his hips.

  They quickly reached their climax together and he rolled off her. He wanted to hold her naked body next to his, make their time together last as long as possible, but she got up immediately and began dressing. He was reclining, propped on his elbows, enjoying the night air cooling down his heated skin as he studied her. Jane turned her back to him and finished getting dressed.

  She had always dressed immediately after their passion was spent, but it was more frustrating tonight than ever before.

  William was the first to break the silence. “There’s no reason to rush away, love. I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you tell me that your husband died?”

  Her lover was waiting for an answer, but Jane carried on dressing, pretending she did not hear him.

  “I learnt it last week,” he continued, watching her back closely. “You are free now, and we can finally marry.”

  She froze for a moment and then slowly turned around and looked at him. There was so much pain on her face that he felt his blood run cold in his veins.

  She made a hesitant step towards him. “I have to marry another,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

  Baron de Broke immediately stood; his breathing ragged. His grey eyes became as stormy as a windswept sea. He remained unmoving, completely naked, only the storm in his eyes and the sound of his breathing belying the appearance of calm. Jane must have seen the change in his eyes, for she moved away, but he caught her elbow and pulled her close.

  “’Tis not funny,” he said, staring into her eyes. “You are mine and only mine. I am the only man who will ever touch you again.”

  “’Tis not a joke, my love,” Jane whispered, her lips beginning to tremble.

  The tears in her voice were like a bucket of cold water washing over William. His anger dr
ained away, his eyes going soft in an instant. He had to stop thinking only about himself. Jane could not be happy about her new marriage contract either. He pulled her into his arms, her face resting on his wide chest, and kissed her forehead.

  “Why do you have to marry? You are a wealthy widow now. You can do whatever pleases you,” he said, caressing her spine and trying as best he could to comfort her.

  “’Tis the king’s order,” she whispered, and William felt the heat of her tears on his chilled, bare skin. “I don’t want another loveless marriage,” she sobbed and lifted her wet eyes to his.

  “I hoped that after I was widowed, I could live the way I wanted, but the king has other plans for me. He wants me to marry a man of his choosing.”

  William gently wiped her tears with his thumbs, holding her face in his hands. He covered her cheeks with soft kisses and pulled her back into his embrace. He had to figure out a way to help her.

  “Who does the king say you must marry?”

  “His name is John de Vere, Earl of Harmton,” Jane said, calmer now.

  William cursed under his breath and turned away to jerk his clothes on. Stephen, his younger brother, had told him just that morning that they had been invited to the earl’s wedding, but Stephen never named the bride. His brother’s happy face should have alarmed William. He would have a long talk with Stephen when he returned to the castle.

  “You won’t marry him.” William could barely speak. He struggled to control the fury making his heart pound against his chest. He’d never allowed his anger to surface when he was with Jane, and he didn’t want to start now. Although born to a merchant, she acted as one who’d been gently born. She had been sheltered her entire life and he would do all in his power to see that she stayed as innocent as he knew her to be.

  “I have to marry him,” Jane stopped crying and looked into his eyes. “I told you, ’tis the king’s command. We cannot go against it. Would you have us go against the king himself? You would lose your title and lands. And what about your brothers? They, too, would be held in disgrace for our actions.”

  “’Tis not important. I will do anything to free you from this.”

  Jane’s eyes widened, “Do you want to destroy me? Would you have me live as the wife of a peasant for the rest of my days? We would have nothing.”

  Her words, and the desperation in her voice, gave William pause. She was right. It was dangerous to go against the king. He could not change anything. Instead, his determination to take Jane as his wife could set the king against all of them. He was not afraid for himself, but if he prevented the wedding, the king would most certainly punish not only William, but his whole family. He might punish Jane as well. William could not put this fragile woman, or the others he cared about, in jeopardy.

  There was no way out of this situation. He had lost her again. His heart, warm and full of love for this woman, broke into thousands of pieces, and a chill like that of a tomb embraced his soul.

  William released her from his embrace and finished dressing, pulling his silk doublet on over his fine linen shirt and hose. When he was ready, he helped Jane mount her horse, then mounted his.

  “I thought you would kiss me goodbye,” she said, watching him with a soft smile.

  Each word she spoke was like a knife, stabbing him in the heart over and over.

  “You belong to another man now,” he replied in a voice devoid of emotion, then directed his horse away from the meadow. Turning his head, he called over his shoulder, “The only man who can kiss you now is The Earl of Harmton. Ask him for it.”

  ***

  Stephen entered William’s cabinet room, the private sanctuary where his most important business was conducted. He was only partially dressed, his hose sagging, his shirt unlaced at the neck and hanging unbelted around his hips. Wiping the sleep from his blue eyes, and running a hand through his long, straight hair, he asked, “What is so important that you call me out of bed in the middle of the night?”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me Harmton was marrying Jane?”

  “I told you about the wedding and handed you the invitation. It’s not my fault if you didn’t take the time to read it, brother. You should forget about that woman, anyway. When will you realize she is only interested in wealth and position?”

  “You don’t know her,” the baron snapped. “She loves me.”

  Stephen moved to the small fireplace. His brother had not even lit a fire before sending for him. Stephen smoothed a hand over his moustache and beard, then knelt and striking a flint against a small stone near the fireplace specifically for the purpose, lit a small flame. He looked up at his older brother, a wrinkle of concern creasing his brow.

  “William, what has happened to upset you so much?”

  “I spoke with Jane tonight, hoping to set a date when she and I could marry. The king has ordered her to marry de Vere instead. How can he pass over me for de Vere when it comes to finding a husband for Jane, a wealthy widow? If not for me, de Vere would still be a merchant, and might even have been hanged for treason when he switched alliances. I should go to the king with all I know about de Vere’s cowardice and lack of true support for the House of Lancaster.” William paced, his voice growing louder as he gave vent to his frustration.

  Stephen sat in a chair next to the fire. “Be careful, brother, lest you become tangled in your own tales. You know that these are treacherous times. You dare not question the king’s decision about anything. He will think you are still trying to get back the Harmton title and lands, rather than only wanting a woman who has been your obsession since you were old enough to find your way under her skirts.”

  William grabbed his brother by the throat. “Take back that slur on Jane’s character! Say what you want about me, but you don’t know her as I do, and I won’t hear a word said against her.”

  “What’s going on here?” A younger man, clean-shaven, with dark, wavy hair and gray eyes, walked in, pulling a surcoat over his head. He stopped in the doorway when he saw his oldest brother’s hand at Stephen’s throat.

  Stephen held his hands up where he sat, palms out. William loosened his grip, and Stephen rubbed his throat, replying, “My concern is for you, not Jane Shore, soon to be Lady Jane, Countess of Harmton. I only know what I have observed, and this is the second time she has agreed to marry an old man with much wealth, rather than a young, virile warrior. This time she even gains a title, which is rightfully yours. Think what you will. Did you even ask her why she didn’t inform you when her husband died? I say that your obsession is clouding your judgement.”

  “James, this doesn’t concern you,” William snapped, turning away from Stephen to face his younger brother. He continued as though his sibling hadn’t walked in,

  “I appreciate your concern, Stephen, but it is unfounded. Jane still wants me in her life, and I will find a way to avenge this marriage to my rival. He has taken my lands, my title, and now the woman that I love. I don’t know how yet, but I will make him pay.”

  “Ah, revenge. That I understand. It’s my specialty,” Stephen said with a wicked grin. “Leave that to me, big brother. I’ll find the perfect solution.”

  ***

  Harmton Castle, home of John de Vere, Earl of Harmton

  With the wedding date fast approaching, life in the castle had drastically changed. It was not a peaceful and quiet place anymore. Countless people were going in and out of the castle walls from morning till dawn. Mainly, these were peasants and merchants, bringing their goods and selling them in the castle. Loud voices, praising their goods, could be heard from early morning until the gates closed at night.

  Lady Elizabeth de Vere stepped from the shadowed halls of the castle into the garden. She squinted for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the bright light bathing her face. Her chest rose with a deep breath of cool, early morning air, and she smiled at the prospect of a new day.

  Elizabeth slowly walked among the rose bushes, touching a new bud here, breaking off a wilted
blossom there, breathing in the sweet scents wafting around her. It was her favourite place in the entire castle, where she could stay alone and be herself. She used to spend long hours in the garden, but a fortnight ago her father had been betrothed, and everything had changed. Since that day, she had been working until her hands were blistered and raw, in charge of the wedding preparations and accommodations for guests who would soon crowd every corner. A heavy sigh escaped with a whoosh as she sat on a stone bench. Only now—in this perfect moment—did she realize how much she needed time in her beloved garden.

  Her father was ready to spend his entire fortune just to gain even more status by marrying Jane Shore. Elizabeth knew little about her, since she herself had never been to court. She had heard that the other woman was but a few years older than her own sixteen. It turned her stomach to think of marrying a man her father’s age, but she knew marriages were arranged without regard to age. Marriage was all about wealth and status. Jane was also reported to be a rare beauty and had inherited her previous husband’s wealth. He’d been a merchant, like her father had once been, and accumulated quite a bit of wealth in the trade. Hence, her father accepted the lady’s offer of marriage. He would have the most beautiful bride in the entire kingdom, and he would have the grandest wedding as well. At least that was what he said.

  “Only one more week,” Elizabeth whispered under her breath and lifted her eyes to the clear sky. “Just one more week.”

  She smiled. Soon her torment would be over. Her stepmother would take the responsibilities of the lady of the castle, and Elizabeth would be left alone, at last.

  A shout brought her back to reality.

  “My lady,” Norma, her maid, two years older than she, was hurrying towards her from the other side of the garden.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth rose from the bench and smoothed out the wrinkles on her dress, tucking a few loose strands of hair under her wimple.