Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I am Lady de Russe,” she said, her tone hazardous, “and you have usurped the castle belonging to my husband, the Duke of Exeter. How on earth your liege thought a challenge like this would go unnoticed and unanswered is beyond me, for it was a foolish and ridiculous attempt, and you may tell him I said so. You may also tell him that we fully expect reparation for the one year’s worth of revenue he stole from my husband, an accounting of which I will send to him within the week. If we do not receive immediate compensation for Arundel’s thievery, I will send a thousand men to claim what is rightfully ours from every farm, village, church, and individual within a twenty mile radius of Arundel until the debt is paid. Is this is any way unclear so far?”

  She had delivered the demands so succinctly, so smoothly, that the three knights were staring at her with some shock and a hint of intimidation. Brandt and Dylan, standing behind her, were equally astonished. The knight with the bloodied nose nodded after a moment.

  “Aye, Lady de Russe,” he replied.

  Ellowyn wasn’t finished. “You will further tell your lord that I am personally offended by his attempts to confiscate my husband’s property and he has earned my great displeasure for the angst and strife he has put my husband through. An offense against my husband is an offense against me. He had better think of some way to ease my displeasure and pray that I am in a forgiving mood when he presents his case. I will expect his full and unrestrained apology when he delivers the compensation for what my husband is owed. Do you understand?”

  “I do, my lady.”

  “Get out of my sight.”

  The knight and his comrades turned away from her, swiftly, and made haste towards the stables. Ellowyn watched them go before turning to Brandt and Dylan, still standing behind her.

  “There,” she said decisively, as if she had just finished some manner of simple business that she conducted every day. “Now, will you show me this magnificent keep?”

  Brandt was staring at her. He was still rather stunned with her aggressive behavior but strangely, it did not displease him. He was rather amused. He was also rather proud. It was the same manner she had used when they had first met, only he had been on the receiving end just as Arundel’s knights had been. The more he saw of Ellowyn, the more he liked.

  “Lady, your negotiation skills are a force to be reckoned with,” he said, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Those men never stood a chance.”

  She cocked an eyebrow and took his elbow. “Which do you think they would choose to face? My ultimatum or your fist?”

  He grinned, patting the hand on his elbow as he turned in the direction of the keep. “My fist, without question.”

  Ellowyn’s expression softened and a grin surfaced. “Unfortunately, today they received both. They will think twice before they attempt to take your castle again.”

  He simply lifted his eyebrows. “Of that I have no doubt.”

  The keep of Guildford was strictly for the duke’s residence, as Ellowyn quickly discovered. After mounting a long flight of steep and at times treacherous stairs, the keep itself was three-storied, with a big armory on the lower floor, accessible by an exterior door. A wooden flight of stairs led to the first floor of the keep, which only contained one big room with a massive fireplace, and a latrine. Brandt used the room as his solar, his war room when he was in residence. There was a big oak table, scattered rubbish, and a pair of dogs near the hearth, but for the most part, the room looked stripped.

  A very narrow spiral staircase built into the wall of the keep led to another big room on the second floor. This was Brandt’s bedchamber, but Ellowyn could see from the expression on his face that it was not how he left it. It had been looted and items scattered, just like the solar below. There was a wardrobe and an enormous bed that was a big, jumbled mess. Surveying the chaos, Brandt shook his head.

  “I apologize for the state of the room,” he said. “Whoever was staying here was most careless.”

  Ellowyn ventured into the room, surveying the chamber as she went. When she came to the bed, she peered at the linens and coverlet without touching them. She made a face when she saw the state of the linen.

  “No matter,” she said, eyeing the bed distastefully before turning to him. “I shall clean it up. Are there any women servants to assist me?”

  Brandt shook his head. “I did not keep female servants,” he replied. “They are far too much trouble. My father never had female servants, either.”

  Ellowyn eyed the dirty bed again. “Then if you can simply provide me with two or three soldiers, I can make do. It is apparent that this keep has not seen a woman’s hand in some time. It shows.”

  “I will not dispute that point.”

  Ellowyn began to remove her wrap and gloves. “Not to worry,” she said. “I shall make this place livable in no time.”

  A smile creased his lips. “Of that I have no doubt,” he said softly. “If it will make your life easier, then I will find a few female servants to assist you.”

  She pulled the gloves off, looking at him. “I would appreciate it,” she said. Then she started rattling off her priorities. “But until they arrive, I will need lye and vinegar and… oh, never mind. I can find it myself. I am sure you have more important duties to attend to.”

  She was taking charge again. “Nothing is more important than you,” he said softly.

  Ellowyn paused in her bustle, eyeing him with a somewhat flirtatious smile. “That is a very sweet statement,” she said. “You are becoming quite adept at being sweet to me.”

  He wriggled his eyebrows. “It is becoming easier with practice.”

  “You may practice all you wish.”

  They grinned at each other for a moment until he made his way over to her and wrapped her up in his big arms. She was sweet and soft and supple, smelling of that lovely sesame oil that made her skin so soft. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her fragrance, losing himself in her deliciousness.

  “This place has been in my family for many years,” he murmured. “It is where I was born, in this very room in fact. But it has only been a possession. It has never been a home. Perhaps it is the closest thing I have to a home, however. Now, with you in its walls, perhaps… perhaps it will start to feel more like a home for my heart than a house for my body. Perhaps it will become something that means something to me rather than just a possession where I lay my head. Does that make any sense?”

  Ellowyn pulled away to look him in the eye. “You lied to me.”

  He looked shocked. “When did I do such a disgraceful thing?”

  She smiled, touching his rough cheek. “You told me you were not good with words, but you lied,” she insisted. “You are very good with words. You say the most wonderful things.”

  His soft expression returned. “You have made it easy,” he whispered. “You have made a great many things easy for me, Wynny. It has endeared you to me more than you can possibly know.”

  Gazing into his magnificent face, Ellowyn was struck with how much she loved the man. She didn’t know exactly when it had happened, but as she looked at him, she couldn’t remember when she hadn’t loved him. Powerful, commanding, handsome, kind, and sometimes socially awkward, Brandt had quickly come to mean everything to her. And then he was going to go back to France and leave her all alone. The knowledge of that tore her to shreds and tears filled her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

  Brandt had seen the tears no matter how quickly she had moved to hide them. He held her snuggly, his face in the side of her head.

  “Why do you weep?” he asked. “What is the matter?”

  She shook her head. Then, she sobbed. “I do not want you to leave me,” she whispered tightly. “Brandt, the thought of you returning to France, the thought of us being separated, claws at me like a great fanged beast. Being apart from you will surely kill me.”

  He didn’t say anything. He simply continued to hold her, but the truth was that he was thinking very heavily on what sh
e had said. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he was becoming increasingly distraught at the thought of leaving her behind as well. He knew he had to, but that didn’t change the emotions he was feeling. He loosened his grip on her, taking her face between his two great hands.

  “If I said that the mere thought does not eat away at me as well, I would be lying,” he confessed, his dark eyes boring into her. “But I know, as a warrior, that I cannot bring you with me. My thoughts would be on you constantly, worrying over you or dreaming of you, and that would be the death of me. If my mind is not on what I am doing, then it makes it easier for someone to kill me. Do you understand?”

  She sniffled, nodding her head as she wiped her eyes. “I do,” she said, unhappy. “I hate that I do, but I understand.”

  He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, kissing her forehead. “I find myself in a very peculiar position right now,” he said. “My focus, my career, has always been on Edward. Until I met you, I was anxious to return to him. Now I am not anxious at all. I am dreading it.”

  “As am I.”

  He sighed sadly and kissed her forehead again. “Then let us make the most of this time together. Let us build happy memories to cling to for the times we are separated. I promise I will not bring up my departure to France in your presence until such time that my departure is imminent. I will not constantly remind you of something we are trying to ignore. Is that acceptable?”

  She frowned. “When are you departing?”

  He was serious. “Four weeks at the most.”

  Ellowyn closed her eyes, already miserable although she was struggling not to be. Finally, she nodded. “Very well,” she whispered. “We will pretend you are not leaving and that you shall always be with me.”

  He put a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. He kissed her softly on the mouth. “I will always be with you no matter where I am,” he kissed her again. “My heart is with you, Wynny. Surely you know that.”

  She gazed into his dark eyes, unable to control herself. “I do love you, Brandt,” she murmured. “Always remember that. You have all of me.”

  His features went through the range of emotions – shock, realization, and finally awe. He wrapped her up in a fierce embrace, squeezing the breath from her.

  “Wynny, my love,” he replied. “I do not know what to say except….”

  Ellowyn buried her face in his neck, trying to avoid the chain mail. “Except what?”

  “Except… I am sorry I called you a whore when we first met.”

  Ellowyn froze, her eyes flying open. Then, she pulled her face from the crook of his neck, looking at him with such surprise that her mouth popped open. Brandt looked back at her with equal surprise until she broke down into screaming laughter. Soon, the two of them were howling with laughter, so much so that Ellowyn was nearly weak with it. She struggled to catch her breath.

  “It was probably the best thing you ever did,” she chortled. “As sweet and slick as a marriage proposal.”

  He shook with mirth. “I was at my most charming that day.”

  She shook her head, wiping the happy tears from her eyes. “You are a Devil, Brandt de Russe.”

  He grabbed her face and kissed her soundly. “Aye, but I am your Devil, Wynny. I am your devoted, humble, and loving Devil.”

  She sobered as he kissed her, the moment so warm and fluid between them. “Do you love me, Brandt?”

  He slowed his aggressive kisses, running his hands over her soft cheeks. “I have never loved anyone before but I suspect that I do. What I am feeling for you could only be love.”

  She grinned, returning his sweet kisses, until they turned amorous. The fire that ignited so easily between them roared to life. Brandt picked her up and headed to the bed, but she balked.

  “Nay,” she breathed. “Not on that mess. It is filthy and full of bugs.”

  Brandt hardly slowed down. He began pulling off his gloves, unfastening the ties of her girdle with a free hand. Ellowyn felt his sense of urgency, feeding off of it, and in little time she had her surcoat off, helping Brandt with his mail. It was more cumbersome to undress him but they managed it, everything from the waist up. His broad, muscular chest drew her lust and she kissed his chest, toying with his nipples just as he toyed with hers.

  Brandt yanked the shift over her head, leaving her clad in her hose and boots. She had a fabulous figure, soft and round in the right places, and already he was suckling her breasts and fondling her buttocks, pulling her up against him. She had such soft skin and he lapped it up, starving for her. Nothing on earth fueled him like she did.

  Ellowyn, meanwhile, managed to unfasten his breeches but he had to lower them. He could do it faster, anyway. With his breeches down around his knees, he turned her around, braced her arms against the bed post, and lifted her buttocks up against his pelvis. His manhood, hard and demanding, thrust into her from behind.

  Since he was so much taller than she was, he had to literally hold her up off the ground as he thrust into her. It was nothing for his considerable strength. Ellowyn gripped the bed post, wrapping her legs around him as he drove into her soft and yielding body. He had a firm grip of her pelvis, holding it tightly against him, his gaze on her slender back and supple buttocks, driving him insane with desire.

  Bending over, he wrapped a big arm around her torso, holding her against him as his free hand roamed her breasts, delighting in the silken texture. Then his fingers moved to the curls between her legs, fingering her, listening to her gasp and groan as he stroked her. He felt her release and he answered shortly, spilling his seed deep into her womb.

  Still embedded in her, he held her close, kissing her back, stroking her breasts gently, digesting everything about the woman that he was so closely joined with. Every tremor, every breath, every sigh was engrained in his brain. She was becoming a part of his very makeup, the fibers of his being. As he stood there and held her, his body still joined to hers, his mouth was against her back.

  “Aye, I love you,” he whispered into her flesh. “I will never love another.”

  Eyes closed, trying to catch her breath, Ellowyn could only smile.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The dream was back, picking up where it had left off.

  She had no idea what her grandfather was pointing at. Through the rain and mist, all she could see was mud and dead bodies. Even this far away from that horrid, smoking castle, the bodies were thick. So many dead.

  Her heart was pounding in her throat, her hand on her belly as the child kicked. The kicking was becoming painful, in fact, and she rubbed at her belly as she tried to see what her grandfather was pointing at.

  “There, Wynny,” he said. “Do you not see him there?”

  She was frantic as she tried to determine what he was talking about. There was something in the distance to catch her attention, something deep and dark and ugly. She could feel it. She wanted to know what he was pointing at but then again, she didn’t want to know.

  “Who is it, Papa?” she cried.

  Her grandfather simply pointed, his handsome face edged with sadness.

  “Go to him, Wynny. You must save him.”

  Frustrated, terrified, she began to cry. The baby kicked, painfully, and she cried harder. But she could see something through the rain and mist beneath the trees in the distance. It was a man in armor, lying beneath the canopy. There was blood all around him, the color of a ruby. In an otherwise black and white and gray landscape, it was the only spot of gruesome color.

  She tried to move towards him but the mud had become a great sucking cauldron, refusing to let her move. She clawed at it, scratching her way towards the man lying beneath the trees. The hands of the dead began to sprout up through the mud, grabbing at her, clutching at her.

  She screamed.

  *

  During those first few days of the duke’s return to Guildford, the servants, soldiers, and knights would be hard-pressed for an answer when asked who the more stern taskmaster was – the
duke or his wife. Popular opinion was leaning towards the formidable and lovely Lady de Russe as she took over the castle like a conquering hero.

  The evening they took possession of the castle and keep, Brandt had sent four soldiers to assist his wife in making the keep habitable to her standards, which wasn’t a simple or quick task. Ellowyn had very high standards. The first thing she did was set a giant iron pot to boiling in the kitchen yard and asked the soldiers to find some lye. A search of the entire castle didn’t turn up a trace of it, so Ellowyn set forth making some. She’d seen the women at Erith make it dozens of times so she understood the simple process. In order to effectively clean, she had to have lye.

  One of the soldiers found her an old wine barrel, which she had propped up on some stones so that it was off the ground. Then, she had the soldiers put rocks all over the bottom of the barrel and covered the rocks with a thin layer of hay before making a hole near the base and plugging it up with another rock.

  With all of that done, she had them make a fire of oak. The hard wood burned long and low, so it wasn’t until the next morning that they had the desired ash from the burning. While waiting for the oak to burn down, Brandt had tried to talk her into sleeping on the dirty bed but she wouldn’t touch it, so he fashioned a pallet for them on the floor of the chamber and they slept on that. His first night back at his castle had him sleeping on the cold, hard floor, but he didn’t mind. As long as he had Ellowyn in his arms, he was a content man. However, she didn’t sleep very well at all. She had cried and muttered all night in her sleep.

  At dawn the next day, Ellowyn made no mention of her restless night. She was more concerned with her chores. The oak wood had burned away overnight and she had her pile of ashes, so she had the men scoop up the white flakes and pour them into the barrel along with gallons of rainwater. The white mix blended, settled, and sat for three days while Brandt and the other men went about their business, watching Lady de Russe’s mysterious experiment carefully. Ellowyn, too, went about her business of doing what she could to clean up the keep but everything was really dependent upon the lye she was making. It would be the key ingredient to the clean keep of her standards.