Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Good day, my lady,” he greeted. “I see that you are looking well this morn.”

  It was as much as the man had said to her since they had been introduced. She nodded. “It is a fine morning,” she said. “Do you know where Sir Tate is?”

  Wallace raised an eyebrow. “Ah, he is more than a ‘sir’, my lady,” he corrected her. “He is an earl and addressed accordingly.”

  She nodded quickly. “Of course, I’d forgotten,” she corrected herself. “Have you seen him this morning?”

  “He is outside the walls, my lady. They are having trouble fitting the new gates and he is supervising the installation. I will take you to him if you wish.”

  Toby looked to the gaping hole in the wall where the great wooden gates use to be. “I do not wish to distract him,” she said, although it wasn’t the truth. She wanted to see him very much. “It can wait.”

  With her gaze lingering on the open gates and the activity surrounding it, she turned for the kitchens that were to the rear of the keep. It took her a moment to realize that Wallace was following her. She looked up at him, a mildly friendly-but-puzzled look on her face. He clasped his hands behind his back and pretended not to notice her curious stare.

  “It is a fine day today,” he said, looking up to the billowing clouds above. “A good day for rebuilding.”

  It was odd conversation from a man who had thus far gone out of his way to make her feel unwelcome. She was wary of his company.

  “I am sure it is,” she didn’t know what else to say. In her arms, the kitten squirmed so she set him down and watched him hop away. “At least it is not raining.”

  “Ah, but it will,” Wallace sniffled loudly and continued to look up at the sky. “Come the nooning hour, it will pour. It always does.”

  Toby simply nodded, unsure what to say to that. She was increasingly wondering why the man was tailing her. When she went to collect the kitten so he would not get trampled by some nearby horses, she noticed that Wallace continued to follow.

  She stopped beating around the bush and faced him. “Is there something you wished to say to me?”

  “Say to you? What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you have not said more than five words to me since my arrival. Now you are making conversation so I assumed there was something more that you wished to say to me.”

  His bushy gray eyebrows lifted, as if surprised by the frankness of her statement. Then he shook his head. “I have nothing to say to you, lady,” he said, but just as swiftly corrected himself. “But I suppose if I was going to say something, it would be to thank you.”

  “Thank me? For what?”

  “For your help with the wounded during the siege the other day,” he shrugged his big shoulders. “With the recent loss of your sister… well, you surprised me with your courage. That is rare in a woman and I would congratulate you.”

  Toby stared at him. He seemed quite gruff with the praise and she couldn’t decide if she was offended or flattered. So she nodded unsteadily and turned away, leaving Wallace standing there, watching her, with a puzzled expression on his face. After a moment, he shrugged again and walked back the way he had come. He still didn’t understand women, not after all these years. He probably never would. He’d given the woman a compliment and she had not seemed pleased with it.

  Toby kept on walking, petting the kitten and realizing that Wallace’s statement, though he’d not meant to do so, had unearthed thoughts of Ailsa. As she gazed up into the blue sky and breathed the fresh air, she realized that she missed her sister very much. The loss was still shocking and painful. She was starting to feel some guilt that her growing relationship with Tate had given her momentary reprieve from her grief. She felt some remorse that she wasn’t completely miserable day and night from the loss of Ailsa. The more thoughts of her sister haunted her, the more she found herself hurting for the life cut short.

  Toby wandered around the circular keep, realizing when she was very nearly at the doorstep that she had come upon the chapel. She paused a moment, gazing at the rough-hewn door to the tiny sanctuary and feeling tears sting her eyes. Ailsa was in there and so was deep pain. But she had to face it. With the cat in one hand, she pushed open the door and entered the cool, dark room. It was barely big enough to hold more than a dozen people at any given time. Very small lancet slits cut into the outer wall allowed some light to enter, but it was still dark and eerie and smelling of the fresh dirt from Ailsa’s burial. Setting the kitten down near the door, she made her way to the fresh grave near the altar.

  As she stared down at the dirt, the tears came. They popped out of her eyes and onto the fresh earth. She knelt down, her hand on the grave, guts aching with grief.

  “Oh, Ailsa,” she wept softly. “I wish I could tell you all that has happened since you went away. There is so much to tell. So much you were right about.”

  The chapel remained still; no one answered her. Toby sat down next to Ailsa’s grave, now both hands in the soft, cold dirt.

  “You asked me once if Dragonblade could marry me,” she whispered, tears coursing over her lips and falling to the floor. “Would you believe me if I told you that he could? I am to become Lady Dragonblade and I cannot even tell you that. I cannot even watch you rejoice about it and then scold you to keep quiet.”

  She thought of her sister, skipping around, cheering at the prospect of her sister marrying Tate. Toby closed her eyes miserably, sobbing as visions of a jubilant Ailsa filled her thoughts. Her head was lowered and her eyes closed so that she did not see the chapel door open slightly; a faint stream of sunlight trickling in as Tate entered silently and closed the door behind him. Toby did not hear him; all she could hear at the moment was her sorrow.

  She sat next to the grave for quite some time, her fingers in the dirt, thinking of her sister and wondering how she was going to get along without her. She was expecting her to burst through the door at any moment or perhaps demand to know, yet again, why she could not marry young Edward. The thought brought a weepy smile to Toby’s lips. She could only imagine her sister as a queen; what a young tyrant they would all have to deal with.

  But she could not wallow in agony though she wanted to. She knew that she had to be strong and move forward. The tears were drying and she wiped at her face, removing the last remnants. The kitten meowed, reminding Toby that she had a very small charge that required her attention, and she brushed her hands off as she stood up. It was easier to forget her sorrow when she focused on something else; a little orange ball, at the moment, would have to suffice.

  “Are you all right?”

  Tate’s soft voice floated upon the cool air and she started, whirling around to face the man who was lingering in the shadows. Their eyes met and he smiled timidly, stepping out into the light. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them filled with unspoken emotion. Then Tate broke the silence.

  “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to startle you but I did not want to intrude until you were finished.”

  Toby’s heart was thumping painfully against her ribs as he approached; gazing into his dark eyes, she was extremely glad to see him. Tate walked up to her and took her hand, kissing it gently. Toby remembered his kisses from last night and couldn’t help the intimate thoughts that filled her head, inappropriate and wicked as they were.

  “I am all right,” she replied to his initial question. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long,” his gaze devoured her. “Wallace said that you were looking for me.”

  She nodded. “I was,” she said. “I just wanted to say good morn, I suppose.”

  His gaze was extraordinarily gentle upon her; his eyes moved over her face, her forehead, the delightful style of her hair. She looked exquisite this morning and his heart was swelling hugely at the sight of her.

  “And a very good morning to you as well, my lady,” he addressed her as he said he would; as a noble lady. Then he chuckled, losing some
of his confidence. “I must say that I am rather surprised that you are speaking to me this morning. I half expected you to… well, I was not sure if you would look so kindly upon me this morn.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

  He scratched his forehead, suddenly having difficulty looking at her. “For my lack of control last night.” He squared his broad shoulders and forced himself to fix her in the eye. “I swear to you, I have never suffered such a complete lack of control ever in my life. What happened last night… Elizabetha, if I could apologize enough or make appropriate amends, please know that I would gladly do so. I do not know what came over me. All I know was that something filled me the likes of which I have never experienced. I should not have done what I did last night and I pray that you will forgive my impetuousness.”

  It was apparent, by his speech, that he had been giving much thought to the subject. Toby stared at him, her eyes wide and her mouth popping open. “Do you mean to say that you regret it, then?”

  He almost nodded but saw, very quickly, that it would probably not be the best response. He put his hands on her upper arms, gripping her tightly. “No, sweetheart,” he said evenly. “I do not regret it. But I should not have been so bold with you. I should not have forced myself upon you and for that, I am truly sorry. I should have been more considerate. It should not have been something so brashly taken and I am deeply sorry for that. But I could not help myself.”

  She gazed at him with her lovely almond-shaped eyes, her porcelain beauty so sweet and ethereal. She seemed to be mulling over his answer.

  “If anyone should apologize, it should be me for allowing you to take such liberties,” she said quietly. “But I realize that I am not sorry at all. God knows, I should be. I should be horrified and ashamed. But I am not because it seemed the most natural of things. You are to be my husband, are you not? Perhaps… perhaps I feel that you already are.”

  He smiled faintly. “If that is true, then I am an extremely fortunate man.”

  She met his smile. “It is true.”

  His grip on her tightened. “Then let us not wait. Let us see our marriage today.”

  Her eyes widened. “Today?”

  He nodded firmly. “There is a church in Harbottle. A small one, but we can be married there today.”

  Toby was suddenly so giddy that she felt faint. All she could do was nod at the man. Tate kissed her swiftly and ushered her towards the door.

  “Then go and dress,” he instructed. “I will prepare an escort to take us into town.”

  Toby was in a daze, pausing a moment to pick up the kitten before she left the chapel.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “So soon, I mean? We only just became betrothed yesterday.”

  He paused as they stepped out into the sun, the excited expression on his face dampening somewhat. “There I go again,” he muttered. “I am forcing myself upon you and not giving you any say in the matter.”

  She shook her head. “That is not what I meant,” she said quickly. “’Tis simply that I do not want you to feel as if you must rush into this after what happened last….”

  She couldn’t even say it, lowering her gaze and looking away. Even though she did not regret what had happened, still, she was not yet brave enough to speak frankly of it. Strange, given her frank nature. Tate’s dark eyes twinkled and he put his hands on her arms again, pulling her up against him. His forehead rested against the top of her lowered head.

  “What happened to us last night only made me realize that I cannot wait any longer to call you wife,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “The sooner we wed, the happier we will be.”

  She lifted her eyes, smiling shyly at him, and he laughed softly as he kissed her again, this time on her soft lips. He wanted to do more but dare not make a spectacle in public. At least, not until she was legally his. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he escorted her in the direction of the keep.

  He couldn’t even tell her what was truly on his mind after his conversation with Stephen that morning. They were headed to London as soon as the gates were repaired and he was loath to leave her behind. In fact, he couldn’t even stomach the thought. At the moment, he simply wanted to feel his joy at becoming Toby’s husband. The rest, he would deal with at the appropriate time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “He took a wife,” the general announced.

  Hamlin’s eyebrows rose. “Who did?”

  “De Lara,” the general said it as if he could hardly believe it. “One of our men trailed them from the castle into the town yesterday and saw them at the church. He married her yesterday.”

  Hamlin’s surprise only increased. “Two days after a siege, he marries?” He looked at the men seated around him; they were still in the encampment in the woods where they had been for three days. It had been a relatively uneventful period until this shocking bit of news. De Roche was astounded. “De Lara must not have a care in the world if he is taking a wife at this time. A very strange move for a usually guarded man.”

  The general shrugged. “Who knows why men do what they do? All I know is that he has indeed married. A very beautiful woman from what I am told.”

  De Roche turned to his general, his mind working over the information. “And you trust the source?”

  The general nodded. “The same man who tailed them to Cartingdon. In fact, he believes de Lara’s wife to be the Cartingdon heiress but he cannot be sure.”

  For three days they had been mulling over their next move, sending out spies to see if they could gain headway on de Lara’s movements. So far, they had received nothing useful. Harbottle had been swiftly repaired and Warkworth’s army remained. There were reports that reinforcements were arriving from Alnwick, but so far, they’d seen no truth of that. The hope was that Mortimer’s army would arrive from the Marches before Alnwick arrived to support Harbottle. In either case, the impending battle would prove to be explosive. At the moment, they were playing a waiting game.

  “So de Lara marries,” Hamlin stroked his chin and began to pace. He held up a finger. “This is good news, in fact. Here we sit, waiting for Mortimer’s reinforcements, all the while looking to find a weakness we can use against de Lara. If we can exploit him, then a battle will be unnecessary. Lives will be saved. That is a good thing.”

  The general who had delivered the news sat next to the old vizier, trying to generate some heat back into his bones. The pouring rain outside had all of them wet and cold.

  “So tell us why this is such good news?” he demanded as he took some wine for himself.

  Hamlin smiled coldly. “A weakness,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What motivates a man more than warfare?”

  The others looked around like idiots, trying to glean an answer from vacant expressions. The old general finally spoke. “What?”

  Hamlin looked at the fools around him and shook his head. “Love,” he said obviously. “Love motivates a man more than warfare. We can lay siege to his castle, burn his troops, kill his friends and de Lara will not falter. But take his wife and the man will bargain.”

  The men in the tent continued to look at each other, some in understanding, some in disagreement. Hamlin threw the cup in his hand to the ground and tossed up his arms.

  “Fools,” he snapped. “We get the woman and de Lara will give us whatever we want. This entire war will be over.”

  The general finally shook his head. “There are no guarantees,” he said. “Perhaps de Lara was forced to marry her. Perhaps he does not care for her in the least.”

  Hamlin put his hands on his hips. “He marries in the midst of a crisis? I would say this is more than a forced marriage. A man would only do such a thing in the middle of this hell only if he wanted to.”

  “So you are saying use the woman against him?”

  Hamlin nodded as if the man was a simpleton. “De Lara’s weakness. We have found it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “
For the very reasons I mentioned.”

  “Then it will not be easy to get at her.”

  “Probably not. But we will take whatever opportunity we can.” Hamlin reclaimed his cup and went for more wine, listening to the thunder outside. “Send out more men to hide in the shadows and watch de Lara. Watch Harbottle closely. I would wager there will be another opportunity, especially if he is bold enough to venture from the safe confines of the castle and into the village. If he does it again, perhaps we can catch them along the open road.”

  “He will travel with an army for protection.”

  “Or he will only travel with a few in order to not draw attention to himself,” Hamlin shot back. “How many men did he take with him to the village yesterday? Did you ask?”

  The general nodded. “Indeed I did. He took two knights and six men at arms.”

  Hamlin lifted his eyebrows. “You see? He only took a small contingent. Now he is overconfident. He believes he is not being watched at the moment.”

  “Never. De Lara is not that stupid.”

  “Nevertheless, you will put your best men on him. If an opportunity presents itself, we will take it. We will take her.”

  The general shook his head. “We cannot even get close to the king. What makes you think we can get close to de Lara’s wife?”

  Hamlin paused as he poured his wine. “Your men will have to be clever and swift. I care not how she is taken, but get her. If we hold her, we hold the kingdom.”

  The general cast him a long look but did as he was ordered. More men would need to be dispatched, more spies to watch de Lara’s every move and wait for an opportunity. It wasn’t going to be easy, if such a thing was even possible at all.

  *

  “I do not care if you and your entire fleet of servants are up all night,” Toby said pointedly. “This keep will be clean by tomorrow morning.”

  She was facing off against a huffing, puffing Wallace. It was pouring rain outside, loud thunder and bright lightning. But the thunder in the sky was nothing compared to the storm brewing in the great hall of Harbottle. Lady de Lara was now chatelaine and Wallace was having a difficult time with the transition. It was unexpected; more than that, Wallace was offended. His insult against Toby’s determination was a volatile combination.