The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He stepped outside and found the day cold but clear. By the time the hunt began, it might even warm up some.

  And if it didn’t? It would be a perfect excuse to hold his wife extra close.

  Chapter 7

  Geoffrey sat stone still next to Merryn, his shoulder touching hers. He longed to take her hand, but he knew Father Dannet would frown at him.

  He couldn’t fool himself. He wanted more than to take his wife’s hand. He fought the urge to put his hands all over her. And his mouth. Especially in the most intimate of places.

  Fighting the carnal urges, he tried to focus on good and pure thoughts. Yet, all he wanted to do was worship Merryn’s body. He planned to do plenty of that later today.

  Mass ended. They left the chapel and returned to the great hall in order to break their fast.

  He shared a trencher with Merryn. She seemed unusually quiet this morning. He didn’t know if it came from last night’s exhausting bouts of lovemaking or if she truly was reluctant to go on the hunt.

  Still, he wanted to surprise her. He said nothing of his plans as they finished the small meal. His father announced the hunt would begin shortly. Cheers sounded.

  “I think I shall go beg Cook for an apple each for Destiny and Mystery,” he told Merryn. “I’m sure they’d like a treat along the way. Would you see both horses are saddled? I’ll meet you at the stables.”

  “Of course, my lord husband. Your wish is my command.” She gave him a saucy smile.

  She might not be eager to hunt, but Geoffrey saw her eagerness to please him. He was happy he had a surprise planned for her.

  It delighted him that she had affixed the sapphire brooch to her surcoat. He’d taken it out and admired it every day after he purchased it in France. Now he could gaze upon the brooch in person each day. Looking at Merryn would never grow old.

  He went to the kitchens and snatched two apples from a barrel. Cook met him with a heavy bag.

  “Everything ye could possibly want, my lord,” she told him, giving him a sly grin.

  “I thank you in advance, Cook. I foresee a pleasant day spent with my lady wife. And your food.”

  Geoffrey slipped the apples inside the sturdy bag, wondering what it contained. He hurried to the stables and found Mystery ready to ride. He lifted Merryn into the saddle, then mounted his own steed. They joined the large group of riders gathering in the inner bailey.

  As they rode out, Geoffrey took a deep breath. It was as if the crisp air and warm sunshine had been specially sent down from Heaven so they could soak up this day. He and Merryn followed the others, traveling deep into the forest, slowly drifting to the back of the line of riders.

  Geoffrey signaled for Merryn to follow him as he rode in the opposite direction of the hunters. He like the quizzical look on her face.

  They rode in silence until they came to a clearing. A small cottage stood in its midst. He trotted over to it and dismounted, looping the reins on a post to secure Mystery. He assisted Merryn down from her horse, her body grazing his as she dropped to her feet.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  Geoffrey wrapped his arms about her. “I know you don’t like to hunt.” He paused. “All I want to do today is chase you.”

  He loved the blush that tinged her cheeks.

  “I’ve brought you to what I hope will become our special place. It’s a small hunting lodge my father built years ago. I’ve brought food along for a meal. We can sit under that oak tree and enjoy the peaceful day together.”

  “Oh, Geoffrey!” She leaned up and kissed him with enthusiasm. “Let’s go see what it looks like.”

  Hand-in-hand, they went inside the lodge. It contained a large room on the bottom floor and two small bedchambers on the second. He had fond memories of the place, which didn’t see much use anymore.

  “I adore it,” Merryn declared.

  He had a thought. “Then why don’t we stay a few days? We can return to the castle for anything we need. It will give us some time alone.”

  “A few days?” She twirled about. “I wish we could stay here forever.”

  He caught her in his arms and danced her around the room. “You would grow tired of how small the place is, my love. Especially with several children and a dog or two underfoot.”

  She stopped, a serious look on her face. “I cannot wait to bear sons and daughters that look like you.”

  “They must have your spirit,” he said.

  “And your honor.”

  “Not to forget your intelligence.”

  “And they must possess your bravery, Geoffrey.”

  He laughed. “No matter what they are like, our children will be perfect.” Geoffrey kissed her soundly as his stomach growled. “I planned on making love to you now, but we should dine first on food before feasting upon one another.”

  “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we spread a blanket under the tree you mentioned?”

  Geoffrey did as she asked. He went to his saddle and pulled the apples out for their horses. He handed Merryn the sack with their meal.

  “I’ll set out what we have,” she said.

  “And I’ll go spoil our mounts.”

  Destiny received the first apple, then Mystery got his. Geoffrey told them what good horses they were and how pleased their master and mistress were with them.

  By the time he returned, Merryn had the food arranged for their feast. They took turns feeding one another, taking pleasure in simple gestures. Merryn yawned several times and looked as if she couldn’t hold her eyes open another minute.

  Geoffrey reclined against the tree trunk and pulled her into his lap. He realized how little sleep she’d gotten. She curled up against him. His arms went around her. Soon, her breathing slowed.

  “Sleep, my lady,” he said softly. “I wore you out last night. You deserve a bit of rest.” He stroked her hair, admiring the varying shades of red highlights coming out in the sun. “But, I promise you, I shall do the same to you tonight. And every night I can, God willing.”

  His thoughts drifted. He wondered what Merryn would look like when she carried his children in her belly. How many they might have? He considered names. His last thought revolved around not caring which they had, as long as the babes proved happy and healthy.

  Geoffrey fell into a deep sleep.

  And awoke to searing pain.

  Chapter 8

  Merryn awoke with a start, unsure where she was. A low moan sounded in her ear. She sat up and found Geoffrey pinned to the tree. An arrow protruded from his right shoulder, holding him fast in place.

  “Sweet Jesu!” She jumped to her feet.

  “Must be a stray shot from the hunt,” he muttered, “though I wouldn’t think any hunter had come in this direction.” He strained his neck trying to get a better look at the arrow.

  Merryn knelt to examine his wound. She gently pressed the flesh around his injury.

  “It’s penetrated the fleshy part of your shoulder, not the bone. That’s good news.” She thought it would be awful to be pierced by an arrow, but she wanted to keep his spirits up as she watched the agony grow on his face.

  “During the war, we would break off the shaft so the arrow could be pulled out in the same direction. Then the wound needed to be seared with a hot knife.”

  He tugged on it. “My left hand is too weak to dislodge it.” He grimaced at the effort.

  “Let me see what I can do.” Merryn struggled to remove it, but the arrow had gone through him and sunk deeply into the tree behind him.

  Fear gripped her. Not only was her husband anchored to the tree, but once he was free, his wound could turn into an abscess which might putrefy.

  Which could lead to death.

  She couldn’t lose Geoffrey. Not after waiting so long for him to come home. Not after what she had discovered about love last night.

  “You must go for help since I’m pinned to this spot,” he told her. “Only a trickle of blood flows. The arrow has plugged the wo
und for now.” He took her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. “I will be fine, my love. You are the healer. You know what will be needed once I am freed.”

  She tried to put on a brave face, but a few tears escaped. Geoffrey wiped them away with his thumb and caressed her cheek.

  Merryn kissed him. “I won’t be gone long.” She gave him a weak smile. “And this little scratch will not be an excuse for you to lay abed and order me about.”

  “Nay. I fear I shall never be able to order you about.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

  She covered him with the blanket from their feast and left a wineskin within reach in case he grew thirsty. She mounted Destiny and waved at Geoffrey before she rode like the wind back to Kinwick.

  Her tears flowed freely now, but she couldn’t let fear stop her. She couldn’t think about what might happen. She needed to make sure of what did happen. And that was bringing back someone to free her husband.

  Merryn made a mental list of the things she would need to treat him. Clean cloth to staunch the bleeding was a priority. She wondered if it would be wise for Geoffrey to ride since that might jar the wound and cause excessive bleeding. But a litter might take too much time.

  She prayed as she never had before, imploring the Living Christ to help her make the right decisions and keep her husband alive. He was a good man—the best of men—and he would be an excellent lord to the people of Kinwick.

  Merryn thought she had loved Geoffrey while he was away at war. His image often came to her in quiet moments, awakening a great longing within her. But after they’d wed and consummated their union? She would do anything in her power to protect this man of hers.

  Anything.

  After a hard ride, she came within sight of the castle, breaking from the forest to cross the meadow. To her left, a group of riders emerged from the woods. She recognized the hunting party, which must be returning to the keep.

  Merryn dug in her heels and urged Destiny on.

  She spied Geoffrey’s cousin, Raynor, and his father, Ferand, and rode straight toward them.

  “It’s Geoffrey,” she said as she reached them. She paused and swallowed, slowing her breathing, trying to remain calm.

  Raynor gave her an impish grin. “We noticed the two of you appeared to have strayed from the hunt. I knew—”

  “No,” she cried. “There’s been an accident. Geoffrey’s hurt.” She explained the situation.

  “We will ride at once,” Ferand said.

  “I’ll need my bag of herbs and cloth to bind the wound once you’ve freed him from the tree. And a knife.”

  “I’ll send someone back to Kinwick for your things.” Ferand motioned to a rider and gave him instructions.

  The man took off.

  Ferand sent most of the hunting party back to the castle. The remaining men turned their horses in the direction of the lodge.

  They made better time returning with Ferand leading the way. He knew a few shortcuts to the hunting lodge that Merryn hadn’t been aware of. Mystery stood where Geoffrey had left the horses.

  But Geoffrey was gone.

  “He was here,” Merryn insisted. “We both tried to free him. He couldn’t possibly have done it himself.”

  “Maybe he loosened it and is now inside,” Raynor suggested.

  She sprang from her horse and ran into the small dwelling. “Geoffrey! Geoffrey! Where are you?”

  The ground floor was empty. She raced up the stairs to check both bedchambers. Her husband was nowhere in sight.

  Fear washed over her.

  Merryn hurried downstairs and outside where the men waited.

  “There’s some blood on the bark. And here, on the ground,” Raynor pointed out. “Maybe someone happened by and helped release him. But who?”

  “And where is he?” Ferand asked. “Why not take his horse?”

  “He knew I was going for help. He would not have left here willingly,” Merryn insisted. Her stomach twisted painfully.

  “Mayhap, he’s at Kinwick,” one of the other men suggested.

  “Let us return at once,” Ferand commanded.

  They mounted their horses and rode quickly back to the castle.

  Geoffrey wasn’t at Kinwick. No one from the gatekeeper to the servants in the great hall had seen him since that morning.

  Ferand immediately organized a search party to look for his son.

  Raynor took Merryn aside. “I am a great tracker. I shall find him, Merryn. Have faith.”

  She watched the men ride out. Hours later, she still stood rooted to the same spot in the bailey as each group returned with nothing to report. There were no signs of Geoffrey anywhere.

  It was as if he’d vanished off the face of the earth.

  Chapter 9

  Geoffrey’s shoulder throbbed dully. He’d quickly figured out how to breathe shallowly to keep his body still. The harshest pain had subsided for now.

  But he knew that wouldn’t last once Merryn returned and had help in removing the arrowhead.

  A snapping noise drew his attention to where Mystery stood. A stranger stepped from the woods, a weapon hanging by his side.

  As the stranger approached, something in his eyes told Geoffrey not to trust him.

  “Spot of trouble you’re in, my lord? Mayhap I can help.”

  “My wife has gone for help, thank you.”

  The stranger’s eyes gleamed. “I know. I saw her leave.”

  Feelings of danger flooded him. Instantly, he understood.

  “You shot this arrow,” he said, his tone flat.

  “That I did, my lord,” the man confirmed, an evil smile playing about his thin lips. He raised the weapon. “A nice crossbow accomplished the task. It has more force behind it, so I knew it would hold you in place.”

  Geoffrey sensed movement behind him. He could only turn his head since his body was pinned to the tree. He caught sight of a swinging object and then his head was struck with great force.

  Bright stars exploded against a field of black. The world spun about him. A second blow crashed down.

  And then darkness enveloped him.

  Geoffrey awakened to a loud roar sounding in his head, mixed with dizziness and nausea. The wound in his shoulder burned hot.

  He forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him with a small shaft of light nearby. A constant bump jostled him and he realized he was being carried down a flight of stairs. The dank smell he inhaled gave him a clue as to where he’d been taken.

  A dungeon.

  He spied a young boy in front of him carrying a torch and wondered who he might be. The lad looked over his shoulder once. Their eyes met, then the boy turned away and hurried down the last of the stairs.

  When they reached the bottom, the Earl of Winterbourne awaited them.

  Geoffrey fought to make sense of the scene.

  “Go,” Lord Berold barked at the child. “Get the healer, Hardwin. Be quick about it. And not a word to anyone lest I flay the skin from your back,” he threatened.

  Hardwin. That was Berold’s youngest. Geoffrey thought him about ten and two. With Barrett’s death, Hardwin would be heir to Winterbourne.

  The boy rushed past, stealing a quick glance at Geoffrey again.

  Two soldiers dragged Geoffrey down the remaining steps and pitched him on the floor inside a cell. One cuffed Geoffrey’s wrists to chains anchored to the wall, while the other restrained his ankles.

  Finished, they stepped out of the cell but left the door ajar.

  Geoffrey’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. Only a couple of candles flickered.

  “Excellent work,” Berold praised. “I must be certain, though, for ’tis a sensitive matter you’ve been entrusted with. You’ve told no one of your task? Not another soldier . . . nor a pretty serving wench?” He looked from one man to the other.

  “Nay, my lord,” they answered in unison.

  “That must remain so. My thanks for completing your task this day. You will receive your just rewards in time. L
eave—and tell no one.”

  The men nodded and turned to depart the dungeon. Before they’d taken two steps away, Berold drew his sword from its sheath. Without warning, the earl swung the weapon behind one man’s back and sliced his head clean off.

  Shock reverberated through Geoffrey at the swift, cruel act. Before he could call out a warning, the second of the pair turned, horror on his face as he spied his companion’s head.

  Geoffrey winced as Berold ran his sword into the man’s gut and twisted it. The nobleman yanked the weapon out as the soldier fell to his knees, blood bubbling from his lips.

  Geoffrey was speechless. He had witnessed violence on the battlefield, but nothing compared to this deliberate cruelty.

  Berold dragged the bodies into the darkness.

  The nobleman returned, a satisfied look on his face. “The rats will feed on their remains. Their bones will turn to dust.” He stepped into the small cell. “No one can ever know you are here.”

  A sinking feeling overpowered Geoffrey. He sat mute as he comprehended the evil plan unfolding before him.

  Voices sounded in the distance.

  “My healer,” Berold told him. “She will tend your wound. There’s magic in her old fingers.” Berold studied him. “I’ve heard it said numerous times that you are a man of your word. Give me your promise now, de Montfort, that you will allow her to care for you and not harm her in any manner.”

  Geoffrey knew that to escape, he must live. And to live, he needed the healer to help him.

  “On my word of honor, I vow she will not come to any harm by my hands.”

  As he finished speaking, Berold stepped from the cell. The healer arrived with Hardwin. She walked into the tiny space, a bag in one hand and a knife gleaming in the other.

  She called for the boy and light. Hardwin brought the lantern close. The healer cut into Geoffrey’s flesh. He groaned. Her fingers probed his shoulder. Indescribable pain shot through him and he thought the agony would never end.