Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Are you sure you are well?” she asked.

  “I am well.”

  “You do not look well.”

  He glanced at her, eyebrow cocked, before claiming a seat at the table. “Then why did you ask?” he asked as he lowered himself down, grunting at his discomfort. “I said I am well and I am. If you think you already know the answer, then do not ask me the question.”

  Madelayne fought off a grin at his annoyance. Over the past several days, she had come to know the man well in many ways, and in not just physical ones. The cold commander she had always known was beginning to show cracks in his steely façade, cracks that were showing her he really did have some emotion in him. Perpetually quiet and serious, Kaspian St. Hèver actually had a bit of a personality, as she had seen. He was a man who had a wicked sense of humor and could show great annoyance if the situation called for it. Like now; she rather liked seeing this side of the man.

  She liked the fire.

  “I believe you,” she said. “No need to become irate about it. I did not doubt you.”

  He frowned at her as she reclaimed her seat with the fruit. He sat across the table from her, watching her delicate features as she finished cutting the pears.

  “I did not become irate,” he said, more calmly now. “I simply do not need to be fussed over as you and Dolwyd seem to think is necessary. Truly, I am on the mend. I am fine.”

  She looked up from the fruit, offended by his words. “I do not fuss over you,” she said. “I am simply doing what is necessary to ensure your health. Forgive me for showing too much concern. I shall try not to do so in the future.”

  She went back to cutting pears and his gaze lingered on her lowered head. That dark auburn hair with the red, glistening highlights had his attention, as did the rest of her. In the surcoat and apron she wore, he could see a hint of her delectable cleavage and he began to think about her delicious breasts upon his tongue. Thoughts such as that aroused him, as they had instantly as of late, so it was imperative to change those thoughts before he found himself in a very uncomfortable position.

  “I do not mind if you show concern over me,” he finally said, grumbling. “I suppose I would rather have it from you than from Dolwyd. What does he think I am going to do? Shatter into a thousand pieces right before his eyes?”

  Madelayne didn’t look up from her fruit. “I would not know for I have not asked him,” she said, unwilling to forgive him quite so soon. “As I said, I will try not to show so much concern in the future if it upsets you so.”

  “I told you that I did not mind it coming from you.”

  “Your guts can pop out and you can explode like a pimple for all I care. I will not show you any concern at all.”

  Kaspian could sense something of a jest with her. She was toying with him and didn’t want him to think she was. He bit his lip to keep from smiling.

  “Then it will be a relief,” he said. “I do not have time for anyone’s concern, least of all yours.”

  She stopped peeling. “Is that so?” she looked at him, frowning. “It is well and good that you shall no longer have it.”

  “I know.”

  “So do I!”

  He couldn’t help the grin now, watching her as she scowled at him. “Are you really going to withhold your concern?”

  Madelayne could see his grin and she lowered her head before he could see hers. “Ungrateful man,” she said. “After everything I have done for you.”

  He let out a short. “Done for me?” he said. “What about everything I have done for you?”

  She stopped peeling once again and looked at him, irate. “If you do not like me here, then send me back to my father. It is no difficult thing.”

  “Mayhap I will.”

  “Good!”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, genuinely trying not to burst out laughing at her. “Would you really go back to your father?”

  “I would!”

  “What if I do not want you to?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I would marry you instead of sending you back.”

  That cooled whatever Madelayne had building in her. She looked at him, all of the humor and outrage gone from her expression. Since he had asked her to marry him the first time, he’d not brought it up again. Until now. Looking into his handsome face, it began to occur to her that she wanted it more than anything. Marriage to St. Hèver would be nothing like marriage to Cairn. Was it even possible that people were married to those they could not stand to be without?

  “I told you I would not marry you,” she said quietly. “I told you why. I thought the matter was resolved.”

  Kaspian had a faint smile on his lips. “It is not,” he said frankly. “I have tried to understand your reasons but I cannot. They are invalid. You are a widowed woman without any prospects and I am offering you an honorable proposal. You would be my wife and my chatelaine. I believe it is a perfect arrangement.”

  Madelayne kept her head down, focused on the fruit, because she knew if she looked at him, all would be lost. After a moment, she sighed with a hint of exasperation. “You say that it is perfect, but the truth is that it is not perfect at all,” she said. “What will people think if I agree to marry you so soon after Cairn’s passing? It will be terribly scandalous.”

  “So you fear for your reputation?”

  “And yours.”

  He frowned. “I do not care anything about my reputation,” he said. “And if people think it is too soon for you to consider remarriage, they are fools. Do they think Cairn would want you to be a widow the rest of your life? Of course he would not. And he would know I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and that I would be a good husband. Is that not what he would want?”

  Madelayne dared to look at him. “I… I suppose so.”

  “Then the matter is settled. You will marry me.”

  Madelayne’s resistance to his proposal was wavering. Remember that you cannot give the man sons! She told herself. But it almost didn’t matter any longer. So much in her heart had changed and it was on the tip of her tongue to agree. She felt such longing for the man, more than she had ever known she could feel. Cairn had never made such things blossom in her heart and soul as Kaspian had so effortlessly done. But she was torn, still in turmoil between Cairn and Kaspian, her heart and mind and soul leaning so close in Kaspian’s direction but afraid to admit it. Afraid to say anything. Before she could open her mouth, however, voices were in the entry and people were appearing in the chamber.

  “St. Hèver!” Nicholas greeted with Dolwyd following him. “I am told you were looking for me. I was just outside the keep when your physic found me. Great Gods, you are looking much better than you were the last time I saw you.”

  Attention torn from Madelayne’s wide-eyed expression, there was no way Kaspian was going to show any weakness in front of Nicholas. He looked at the man and stood up as if he wasn’t pained in the least, accepting Nicholas’ hand in greeting.

  “It was certainly a difficult situation the last time you saw me,” he said evenly. “Thanks to excellent tending, I am as you see. I am on my way to recovery.”

  Nicholas looked him up and down. “I can see that,” he said. Then, his attention inevitably moved to Madelayne, sitting on the other side of the table, and his expression immediately changed to one of great interest. “I have already been introduced to one lovely lady at Lavister. I see that there is a second.”

  Kaspian saw the shift in expression as clear as day and instantly, he could feel that primal jealousy rise within his chest, the type of jealousy that one man would have when protecting his mate from a predator. With Nicholas’ expression taking on predatory characteristics, Kaspian went on the defensive. He’d never known anything like it but simply couldn’t help it.

  Do not look at her like that, you bastard….

  “This is Lady l’Ebreux,” he said, his voice oddly cold. “This is Cairn’s widow. My lady, this is Sir Nicholas de Dalyn. He is
here to help support our ranks for the time being.”

  Whether or not the lady was a widow made no difference to Nicholas but out of respect for the dead knight, the very man he had helped to kill, he subdued his manners towards her. As he watched the lady dip her lovely titian head in greeting, scenes from Cairn’s death tumbled about in Nicholas’ mind; the ambush, the man being pulled off his horse, and the man being set upon by men with knives. All of the things he could have prevented but didn’t because he was more interested in gaining what l’Ebreux had – his position at Lavister. Now, that envy might very well extend to the man’s widowed wife. She was stunning. But Nicholas’ manners did not belie his thoughts.

  “Lady l’Ebreux,” he said politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your husband. He was a fine knight.”

  Madelayne cocked her head, looking curiously to the handsome, blonde knight. “You knew my husband?”

  Nicholas nodded, unsure how much he should tell the woman about his encounter with Cairn at Beeston, when Kaspian mercifully spoke.

  “It was Nicholas who tried to save Cairn,” Kaspian said quietly. “He was the one who brought Cairn back to us after he had fallen.”

  Madelayne was visibly moved by the information. “Is that so?” she asked, looking to Nicholas. “Were you there when he fell, then? Did you see what happened?”

  Careful, Nicholas thought. “Alas, my lady, by the time I reached your husband, it was too late,” he lied. “I am sorry I was not in time to help him. I hope you can forgive me for my failure.”

  Madelayne didn’t particularly want to discuss Cairn’s death. It was a sad subject and an uncomfortable one. Failure. It was an interesting choice of a word when discussing Cairn because that was exactly the way Madelayne felt – as if she had failed the man somehow by becoming attracted to Kaspian. Failing his memory. But she knew, in her heart, that Cairn would have wanted her to be happy. He was simply that way. So perhaps in a sense, she really hadn’t failed him. Still, it was a subject she didn’t wish to discuss.

  “There is nothing to forgive,” she said, putting her knife and fruit back into the bowl and picking everything up. “If you will excuse me, I will leave you men to your privacy. I am sure there is a good deal you need to discuss.”

  She was already moving away from the table when Kaspian spoke to her. “We shall see you returned for the evening meal, my lady?”

  Madelayne was already in the chamber doorway when she paused and turned to look at the men standing at the table. She smiled weakly. “Aye,” she said. “I will return for the meal. It should be within the hour, in fact.”

  With that, she left the chamber, leaving Nicholas and Kaspian still standing and both still looking at her. Dolwyd followed her out, leaving the two knights alone. Hearing the door to the keep close, Nicholas turned to Kaspian.

  “A pity,” he said. “She is very young and beautiful to be a widow. I had no idea Cairn had married so well.”

  There was that predatory expression again, setting Kaspian on edge. He sat down, ignoring Nicholas’ statement. “I will not discuss Lady l’Ebreux with you,” he said. “You and I have a good deal to discuss about Lavister.”

  Nicholas sensed he’d been cut short on the subject of Cairn’s widow and it intrigued him. It also did nothing to deter his interest. But he did the polite thing and sat down, folding his hands on the tabletop expectantly. For now, at least, he would let St. Hèver think he was doing as he was told, but the truth was that he didn’t like to be ordered around by anyone.

  Especially the man he intended to replace.

  “Indeed we do,” Nicholas said. “In fact, there is something I must tell you. I stopped in Northwich for the night and came across several de Lara men. They told me that there is a Welsh buildup near Hawarden Castle, something of massive proportions.”

  Kaspian forgot all about his jealousy and listened seriously to Nicholas’ news. “I am not entirely surprised to hear that,” he said honestly. “Hawarden has always been at the center of any Welsh storm. How long ago did you hear this information?”

  “Last night, in fact,” Nicholas said. “The de Lara men were heading north to Carlisle to relay the information. They are seeking reinforcements for the trilateral castles because no one on the Marches has men to spare.”

  It sounded serious, indeed. “What of de Lohr?” Kaspian asked. “He has thousands of men.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “They are holding the entire southern portion of the Marches at this point,” he said. “At least, that’s what the de Lara men told me because I asked the same question. They are covering Hereford, for God’s sake, and every castle in the de Lohr line is armed to the teeth – Shadowmoor, Dorstone, Cross Ash, and Clearwell. So I am positive that we cannot expect any reinforcement from the de Lohr stables. And de Lara has Trelystan, Hyssington, and Caradoc to worry about. Nay, my friend, the Marcher lords are dug in where they are, waiting to see what Dafydd ap Gruffydd is going to do.”

  Kaspian drew in a deep, thoughtful breath as he processed the information. He hadn’t heard any of this and he was rather surprised. Usually, the flow of information in the north was good because all of the garrisons kept each other informed, but this news had come up from the south and it was rather shocking. Hawarden Castle was not far from Lavister and he felt somewhat blindsided by the information, as he should have been one of the first people to know of it. But he’d not heard a thing from any of his spies and he was sure that if Thomas had, the man would have told him. He leaned forward on the table, his big arms folded on the tabletop.

  “Beeston is still in English hands, as is Lavister,” he said. “So is Holt Castle, to the south of us. I will be honest when I say that I have heard nothing of this news and Hawarden is a two day’s ride from Lavister. If what you say is true, we must seek our reinforcements from places other than the Marches. No one has resources to share. I would assume that Edward is aware of this situation?”

  Nicholas nodded. “He is, indeed,” he replied. “I sent him word of the victory at Beeston right after it happened and I am sure he has received word from other Marcher lords as well as to the situation with Hawarden. He has his eye on the Marches right now, have no doubt.”

  Kaspian was pensive. “I have family north at Pendragon Castle,” he said. “I also have friends and allies at Aysgarth Castle and Exelby Castle in Yorkshire. I could send word to them and request reinforcements.”

  Nicholas was in agreement. “That would be wise,” he said. “Lavister guards the road between Chester and Wrexham, which makes it strategic. If Dafydd manages to capture it, he can launch attacks on those towns and beyond. It could be catastrophic for the Welsh to gain control of Lavister.”

  Kaspian’s gaze lingered on him a moment. “You sound concerned.”

  Nicholas eyed the man, a flash of something dark and threatening crossing his features, before breaking into a grin. It was all an act, however; Nicholas didn’t like Kaspian’s comment, as if he were afraid of the Welsh. No man would call him a coward. The grin, therefore, was to cover up the flash of murderous outrage in his heart. He didn’t like the challenge to his manhood.

  “I am not the least bit concerned, I assure you,” he said. “I welcome any action the Welsh can bring. The skirmish at Beeston was the first one I’d seen in a very long time. I am more at home in a battle than most.”

  Kaspian cocked an eyebrow. “Let us hope it does not come to that,” he said. “I would be perfectly happy if the Welsh would pass us by.”

  Nicholas regarded him. “Now you sound concerned.”

  Kaspian could have sworn there was a taunt in de Dalyn’s tone. He could see the edginess in Nicholas’ eyes no matter how hard the man tried to hide it. “To be concerned is to be prudent,” he said steadily. “To be prudent is not to be caught off guard.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Good. Then let us share the evening meal and converse with the rest of Lavister’s knights at the
conclusion of the meal to discuss this situation. They will want to hear what de Lara’s men told you as well.”

  Nicholas simply nodded his head, letting the conversation naturally shift away from the threat on the Marches and on to other things, but the entire time, he was thinking on how gratifying it would be when he was finally in command of Lavister. It was clear that St. Hèver was struggling with his recovery from the terrible injury and the man wasn’t nearly as strong as he should be to command such an outpost. Aye, Nicholas had plans for Lavister that didn’t involve Kaspian St. Hèver.

  Another strategic missive to Edward might solve his problem, eventually.

  If not, there were other ways of ridding himself of an obstacle.

  *

  The evening meal was held in Lavister’s great hall, with its cold stone walls and sharply pitched roof. Since there were so many men at Lavister, and all of them needed to be fed on a regular basis, the great hall saw a good deal of use. It smelled like men and dogs, urine and smoke, and there were always men in the structure either eating or sleeping or playing games – sometimes all three. On this evening well after sunset, the hall was full of men as they crowded around the three big feasting tables, shoving each other aside for a spot to eat.

  The hall could seat about five hundred men, and that was crammed to the rafters, so those who weren’t fortunate enough to claim a seat in the hall were relegated to eating outside around the half-dozen fires that littered the bailey on any given night. Ioin, the old cook, was a master at stretching food stores to make sure the army had enough to eat and on this night, he’d boiled pork with beans and carrots, creating a thick and hearty stew to dip loaves of crusty brown bread into. The pears that Madelayne had spent her time cutting had been boiled up, too, with honey and spices to create a delicious compote that was reserved only for the knights and their guests.