Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Get up now,” he grinned as she fell back over on the bed and he pulled her up again. “Your starving son is waiting and I must go retrieve his meal.”

  She started to fall over again, laughing when he put his enormous hands on her shoulders to hold her steady. The lavender eyes lolled open, twinkling at him.

  “I do not believe that I can stand.”

  He laughed softly. “You’ll have to. I must dress and I cannot do that and hold you upright at the same time.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him, grinning, and it was his signal to let go and hunt down his clothes. He found his breeches, his boots, and finally his tunic, pulling them on in that order. The entire time, Cantia sat on the bed, nude, and watched him. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he caught her staring at him.

  “Sweetheart, get dressed,” he urged softly. “I must open the door and I should not like for your son to see you stark naked. He might spread vicious gossip and rumors.”

  She smiled dreamily, watching him push the copper curls from his eyes. “Why do men fear you so? Since I have known you, I have seen nothing to warrant that reputation. You are one of the sweetest, kindest and gentlest men I have ever met.”

  He lifted his big shoulders. “With you, I certainly would not want to display any behavior that suggestion destruction or death,” he said. “On the field of battle, or with my men, my behavior is… different.”

  “How different?”

  He glanced up at her. “Look at me. Do I not look brutal and big? Frightening, even? I assure you, the reputation is well earned and I am proud of it. It has served me well. In fact, my brother was the one who would tell war stories of my skill to any and all who would listen. He said there was no one in heaven or earth who could best me on the field of battle.”

  “What was your brother’s name?”

  “Torston.”

  “You said that he died. When did he die?”

  Tevin thought back on his younger, taller, and more volatile brother. He had been a quick wit, a brilliant study, and far too rash. He missed him terribly. “In a skirmish four years ago,” he said. “My father had been mortally wounded and when my brother went to aid him, he was cut down as well.”

  “Oh,” Cantia was saddened at the thought. “I’m sorry for you. How old was he?”

  “He had seen twenty-five years.” He approached the bed, waving his big hands at her. “Cantia, hurry and dress.”

  She started, as if she had completely forgotten that she needed to put her clothes on, and quickly pulled her shift over her head. The emerald surcoat lay at her feet where Tevin had ripped it from her body and she picked it up, tossed it over a chair, and went to the massive wardrobe against the wall. Opening the doors, the smile suddenly disappeared from her face. Tevin, fussing with the tie of his breeches, noticed she had come to a halt. He glanced over at her, realizing there were tears in her eyes.

  He went to her. “What’s wrong, sweet?”

  She shook her head, blinking away the tears. “’Tis… only that Brac’s clothes are still here. I keep forgetting. I must remove them.”

  Tevin looked at the jumble of garments, tunics and leather breeches and pieces he did not recognize. “You do not have to remove them until you are ready.”

  She looked at him, the light of surprise in her eyes. “Do you think I am not ready? Do you think I would have carried on with you all night as we did if I was not ready?”

  He put his hands on her in a calming gesture. “I did not mean to offend you. I simply meant that you will not be forced to do anything you are not ready to do.”

  She reached in and began pulling the cluster of clothes out, onto the floor. Hunt yelled at his mother, again, and she shifted from Brac’s clothes to her own, pulling a durable broadcloth surcoat on and securing it with a leather girdle.

  “Coming, Hunt. Be patient.”

  Tevin had already walked to the door, his hand on the lock as he watched Cantia cinch up the girdle. She had a deliciously narrow waist, making her breasts appear rounder and larger. His thoughts began to turn lustful again but he fought them. Now was not the time. They had been selfish enough. Still, after a night like the one they had just spent together, he knew his thoughts would be only of her. It would be difficult to deal with his cousin and the situation the man brought with him.

  The girdle was finally fastened and she smiled at him, slipping on the small leather slippers that would cover her feet. He smiled in return, feeling weak and warm and giddy. Over the past day, their relationship had deepened and expanded into something he had never known to exist. He couldn’t even remember his life before this woman was a part of it and the warmth he felt, the satisfaction, was more than he could describe. It blanketed him, like a warm, enveloping embrace that encompassed his entire being. He felt so very fortunate.

  “I shall open the door,” he said quietly. “Let the boy see only you and I shall slip out when his attention is on his mother.”

  She nodded, moving towards the door. He reached out, touching her cheek, as she came near. Then he unlocked the door and pulled it back.

  Hunt sat in front of the door with a ball in his hand. George, the dog, lay beside him, gnawing on his paw. Hunt looked up sharply from his toy as the door opened, his face full of impatience at his mother.

  “I’m hungry,” he said firmly. “I want porridge and honey!”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “I am not sure I approve of your tone,” she reached down and pulled him into the room, making sure to keep his back to Tevin. “Come in here now. I must speak with you.”

  Tevin, seeing the boy was properly distracted, slipped from the chamber. George wagged his tail at him, doggy eyes the only witness to the viscount being in Lady Cantia’s room. With her peripheral vision, Cantia saw Tevin disappear as she lifted her son up and kissed his face repeatedly.

  “Mam!” he shoved against her, wanting to be put down. “I’m hungry!”

  “I know,” she set him down on the floor. “But we have a serious matter to discuss and it cannot wait.”

  He wasn’t particularly interested. “What?”

  Cantia sat on the edge of the bed so that she would be closer to his eye level. “The Earl of East Anglia arrived earlier. Did you know that?”

  He shrugged, shook his head, and tossed the ball at George. Cantia grasped his arm gently to force him to focus on her.

  “The earl is a very important and very busy man,” she continued. “Although Rochester is your home, I must ask you to stay in my chamber with me until Lord Tevin tells us that we may leave to go about our business. That means that, for now, you cannot go outside and play. You must stay in here with me. We must…hide. Like when you play a hiding game. We are going to play a game.”

  He looked at her with his big blue eyes. “Why are we hiding?”

  “Because we must not bother the earl. We must be silent and obedient and invisible. Do you know what invisible means?” When he shook his head, she continued. “It means that he must not see us. We must be like a ghost.”

  Hunt’s face lit up. “I want to be a ghost!”

  She smiled at him. “Of course you do. He must not see you at all. If you are very good and the earl never sees you, then there shall be a reward waiting for you when he leaves.”

  His happy face grew happier. “What reward?”

  “What would you like?”

  “Armor!” he shouted. “I want armor like my da!”

  Her smiled faded. His innocent words depressed her so, whether because it once again reminded her of her now-fatherless son or because she imagined him as a grown warrior, she did not know. All she knew was that her son wanted to grow up so fast, to leave her and become a man. She wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

  “We will discuss it further when the earl leaves,” she told him. “But if he sees you at all, no reward. No armor, no anything. Do you understand? This is important, Hunt.”

  He nodded emphatically. “Good,” his mother said. “Now, I be
lieve Lord Tevin is bringing us food. We will wait here for him.”

  “Do we have to be a ghost for him, too?” Hunt wanted to know.

  She shook her head, her gaze drifting to the mussed bedclothes on the floor beside the bed. Just to look at them gave her a shudder of pleasure.

  “Nay,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “We will not hide from him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Geoffrey de Gael, by all appearances, was a sane, well-behaved individual. He was the result of hundreds of years of careful breeding, fine bloodlines enhanced by a royal insertion here and there. Blond, with the same obsidian-dark eyes that Tevin possessed, he was three years younger than his stronger, larger cousin and a world of difference apart in character.

  Women gravitated towards Geoffrey with frightening ease. It made his lustful games so easy to come by. Somewhere in his normal-looking head, something was terribly wrong and he literally knew no difference between right and wrong. He only knew what he wanted, what he lusted for, and he took it. The object could be land, a holding, a woman, a horse… anything that caught his eye. Not only was he unpredictable, he was also dangerous. He would draw a sword in the blink of an eye, kill, and hold no regrets. And there was never anyone to stop him.

  That was why Tevin was so on edge. His cousin had always held a great liking for him, which made him somewhat immune to his cousin’s madness, but everyone else did not possess the luxury of that immunity. Even now, he had paused in his quest to the kitchen long enough to make sure his sister was prepared to move up to Cantia’s bower. On the third floor of the keep directly below Cantia’s chamber, Val was ready and waiting. An alert from her brother almost an hour before saw her preparations complete. When Tevin finally stuck his head into the room and told her to move upstairs, she did so quickly. She, almost more than her brother, was aware of her what her cousin was capable of. She’d been avoiding it most of her life, so these moments were particularly tense.

  The entire keep was in an uproar over the earl’s visit. He had brought a huge retinue with him; knights, soldiers, servants and a couple of well-dressed women that served as both mistress and whipping post. They traveled with him wherever he went. He entered Rochester with the air of a conquering hero, his haughty gaze surveying all before him. The man knew his power and he made sure all around him knew, too.

  But the earl’s interest in the bailey soon wore thin and he made way to the massive stone structure that was the heart of the castle. Just as Geoff set foot in the keep, Tevin descended the last step from the upper floors and met him nearly at the door. The young earl smiled amiably at his cousin, clapping him on his massive shoulder.

  “Well, cousin,” he said, glancing about. “I can see you have this place well in hand. And a massive place it is.”

  Tevin nodded faintly. “I wish you’d sent word that you were arriving early,” he said, trying to steer Geoff into the hall. “I would have been more aptly prepared for your visit. As it is, we’re scrambling to show preparations worthy of your presence.”

  Geoff waved him off. “It is suitable,” he said, still looking around. “Where is the steward?”

  “Penden?” Tevin snorted. “With the son dead, the father has tumbled into madness. We had to lock him in the vault for his own safety. He was trying to kill himself.”

  Geoff lifted a dark-blond eyebrow. “Is that so?” he peered more closely at his surroundings. “Perhaps I should confiscate the property if the steward has lost his capacity to govern. Rochester is too strategic to leave in the hands of a madman.”

  A warning bell went off in Tevin’s mind. “Rochester will not weaken any time soon as long as I am here,” he put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder and directed the man into the hall. “And I believe Penden’s madness is temporary. His son was everything to him. He’ll recover.”

  Geoff eyed his cousin. “Mayhap. It couldn’t be that you want this place for your own, could it?”

  Tevin lifted an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face. “It would not do me any good even if I did. You would simply take it from me.”

  Geoff laughed and slapped him on the arm. Fresh rushes, a warm fire and a hastily-assembled meal await them in the great hall. Cheese, great loaves of bread, and the last of the winter store of fruit graced the larger of the tables that lined the enormous hall. There was even a huge tray of warmed-over mutton. Geoff sashayed in the direction of the table, his gaze missing nothing; a servant, the stone used to build the hearth, the quality of the food. He was if nothing else, observant, which would make concealing Cantia, Hunt and Val something of a challenge.

  Tevin knew this. He watched the man like a hawk as he collected a chalice of mead and propped his buttocks on the edge of the table. Geoff had a strangely smug expression on his face and Tevin could not figure out why, but he knew he didn’t like it. There was something odd in his manner, even more than the usually oddness, and something that would undoubtedly show itself when the time came. Tevin wasn’t at all thrilled with that thought. He tried to prepare himself.

  The rest of his entourage trickled in from the bailey; a couple of good knights that Tevin knew, a few soldiers that took station by the door, and the two well-dressed women. And then, at the very end, came a face that Tevin was very familiar with. The small figure was being pushed on a chair that was fashioned with two very large wheels. They could hear the big iron and wooden wheels creaking as they rolled across the entrance to the keep, being lifted up over the steps by two soldiers. Tevin hadn’t paid much attention to Geoff’s followers other than the usual gang, which was why the sight caught him completely off guard.

  Geoff was up off the table, slapping his cousin yet again when he saw the expression on Tevin’s face. “See what I brought you? A present!”

  Tevin ignored the man. Everything around him ceased to exist as he practically ran to the entrance, falling on his knees beside the wheeled chair. He collected the tiny hands that were outstretched to him.

  “Bella,” he breathed. “You’re here, sweetheart. How…?”

  Arabel Berthilde Solveig du Reims threw her frail arms around her father’s neck. She was a little thing, no larger than a child of perhaps ten or eleven years of age, but she had a most unique and remarkable beauty. With her father’s nearly-black eyes and cascades of blond hair, she was a striking picture, like a delicate little bird that needed love and protection. And her father, the powerful viscount, was extremely, if not obsessively, protective of her.

  That was why his momentary surprise at her arrival suddenly transformed into something very angry and murderous. Oddly, he wasn’t angry because he feared for his daughter’s virtue against the lecherous earl. As immoral as Geoff was, he wasn’t stupid. He knew that any suggestive move against Arabel would result in his death. Tevin was angry because, quite simply, he feared for his daughter’s safety against external forces. He feared the world around her. And a trip from Thunderbey Castle to Rochester was wrought with peril for his only child.

  “Father,” Arabel squeezed her father’s neck as tightly as her weak arms would allow. “Cousin Geoff came to Thunderbey to seek counsel with you. But I told him you were still at Rochester so he offered to bring me along. It’s been so long since I have seen you and I missed you terribly. Wasn’t that kind of him?”

  A very simple explanation in a matter of seconds. Leave it to Arabel to know what her father was feeling, the excessive protectiveness and concern. Tevin tried hard to control his anger in the wake of her lovely, smiling face. He put his massive hands on her cheeks.

  “Of course I am pleased to see you,” he kissed her fair face. “But transporting you over miles of open road does not, in fact, please me. I left you at Thunderbey for a reason. You were safe there.”

  Arabel’s features softened. “But I was alone. I wanted to come and see you. Why have you not come home yet?”

  Tevin gazed into the eyes of his beloved daughter, suddenly feeling like a horrible man. He had not
come home because he had wanted to stay near Cantia, pure and simple. It was wrong of him and in that instant he saw just how wrong it was. It had only been him and Arabel for many years. He loved her more than a man should probably love his child. He had left her alone while he went off to fight Geoff’s war and then stayed because he was more interested in something at Rochester.

  Geoff came up behind him as Tevin thought of a plausible answer to his absence and slapped him on the shoulder. “Are you pleased, then? How could I leave your lovely young lady at home when she so desperately wanted to see her father?”

  Tevin cocked an eyebrow, rising to his formidable height as he faced his cousin. His stiff body language was evident. “You should not have risked her on the journey here,” he said in a low voice. “She is very delicate. Traveling does not agree with her.”

  Geoff waved him off. “We brought her maid servants and she was protected by ten men. She was well taken care of in either case. What are you worried about?”

  “I left her at Thunderbey to protect her, Geoff. You had no right to bring her to Rochester and put her in peril as you have. This entire area is under threat. You know this. God only knows what could have happened to your party on the open road.”

  Geoff simply shook his head, a smirk on his face. “You worry like an old woman. Arabel needs the adventure of travel. You keep her caged like an animal.”

  Tevin nearly took his head off for that remark. He was rather pleased that he had held himself in check. In lieu of saying something that could very well anger his cousin, he simply turned his back on him and scooped his daughter up into his arms. She beamed at him brightly.

  “It’s so good to see you, Father,” she laid her head on his massive shoulder. “I have missed you very much.”

  “And I have missed you, sweetheart. What an unexpected treat this day has brought.”

  “Will you show me Rochester now?”