Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  His mouth moved to the swell of her round breasts and his big hand, very gently, cupped her left breast. She gasped softly and started to pull away, but he held her close and his gentle touch turned more insistent. He fondled her boldly as his lips reclaimed hers, his kiss moving deep. He held her so tightly that he was sure he was squeezing the breath from her because he could hear her gasps and sharp exhales as he had his way with her.

  He wanted to taste her flesh in the worst way. He wanted to suckle a rosy nipple until she wept with the pure joy of it. Her breast was soft and round in his hand and he could feel the hard nipple through the fabric. But his kisses slowed as he struggled to regain his control, fully mindful that this was not the time or place for this, no matter how badly he wanted her. When he finally pulled away from her mouth, she drew in a heavy breath as if struggling to breathe. He gazed down into her half-lidded eyes.

  “As a man of supreme control, I can tell you that it has taken all of my strength not to continue exploring you,” he murmured. “My want for you is more than I can express, sweet. I am sorry if I frighten you with it.”

  His hand was still on her breast, gently rubbing where moments before he had been passionately fondling her. Gray labored to regain her wits, her hand instinctively closing over his as it held her breast.

  “You do not frighten me,” she whispered. “I… I have never experienced this level of passion before. It was never this way with Garber. In fact, it would sicken me whenever he touched me. But with you… I love this already, Braxton. I never knew it could be like this.”

  He smiled at her, his features illuminated by the soft candle light. He kissed her again, tenderly this time, his hand still moving slowly, sensually, over her breast. “It is a promise of things to come, this passion that ignites so easily between us.”

  “Do you think so?”

  He spoke with his lips still against hers. “I know so.”

  He pulled away to look at her again, her exquisite beauty in the dimness of the tent. But he also pulled away because he was dangerously close to losing control again. Removing his hand from her breast, he straightened her bodice where he had mussed it. Then he helped her back onto the stool at Geoff’s bedside before rising.

  He was thankful he was in armor, for the mail and pieces of plate concealed a powerful erection. God, he wished he could take her at this moment.

  “Now,” he said, trying to distract himself. “I shall go and see how they are coming along with the pig. I should probably also see how Lady Brooke is faring after her scolding.”

  Gray lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do not coddle her, Braxton. She must learn her lesson.”

  His lips twitched but he bowed his head as if to agree to her wishes. Gray watched him go from the tent, suspecting that he would not. He would fold like a weakling the moment Brooke turned her big, sad eyes to him.

  She was right.

  An hour later, Braxton had not returned to the tent. With Geoff still unconscious, Gray felt the need to stretch herself, if only for a moment. She rose stiffly and exited the tent only to find her daughter, Braxton and both squires missing. The men at arms tending the fire could only point towards the dark town in response to her query. Since Braxton was with the children, she didn’t particularly worry, but she wondered where they could have gone.

  The evening was cool but not cold and the stars above were brilliant. Gray wandered away from the encampment, her eyes on the town in search of her daughter and Braxton. The dark tournament field was to her left, the empty lists mere shadows of the excited stands they had been earlier. Wandering aimlessly, and grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs, she noticed that there were a few tents pitched off to the west of the tournament field.

  She could see the triangle-shaped silhouettes and the flicker of the cooking fires. Curious, she wandered in that direction simply because wanted to see their banners and then attempt to deduce which House they were from. Purely idle curiosity. But she did not want to wander too close so after several minutes of pacing, she decided to turn around and head back to Braxton’s encampment. Turning on her heel, she almost ran into a massive body standing behind her.

  Startled, she yelped and fell back. A big hand reached out to steady her.

  “Forgive, my lady,” came the deepest voice she had ever heard. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

  Heart in her throat, she craned her neck back to gaze up into the face that emitted the voice. Surely it was the Devil himself. Eyes the color of obsidian gazed back at her, although it was difficult to deduce much else in the dark. She couldn’t see his face clearly. But he was definitely a knight for he still wore his mail and a portion of arm protection was still strapped to his right arm. He was a very big fellow with handsome, rugged features. She took another step away from him.

  “You merely startled me, my lord,” she said as steadily as she could. “I apologize if I have stepped into your camp. I was… well, I was looking for my daughter but I see that she is not around here.”

  She walked a wide berth around him; though he did not stop her, his black eyes followed her like a cat tracking a mouse.

  “I saw you at the tournament today,” he said. “You were sitting in the lists with a young girl who has your same color of hair. Is that the daughter you are looking for?”

  She nodded, trying not to be too obvious about making distance between them. “Aye.”

  “She yells like an alehouse wench.”

  Gray paused in her attempt to escape and lifted an eyebrow at him. “It was her first tournament. How else should she behave?”

  The knight laughed softly. “Exactly as she did. She was all I could hear.”

  “You were competing, too?”

  “I was the victor.”

  An inkling of recognition came to Gray’s eyes. “You are Sir Niclas?”

  He bowed gallantly. “At your service, my lady.

  “You injured Geoff.”

  He straightened up, his dark eyes flicking in the direction of Braxton’s camp. “It was an accident, I assure you,” he said. “How fares the wounded knight?”

  Gray regarded him carefully. “We do not know yet,” she said after a moment. “We have done all we can. Only time will tell now.”

  Niclas nodded faintly and his gaze moved to her once again. “Are you d’Uberville’s wife?”

  “Nay.”

  “But you travel with Braxton de Nerra’s camp?”

  The answer was more complicated than that, but she simply nodded. “Aye.”

  “Then you must be de Nerra’s wife.”

  She cocked her head. “You ask many questions.”

  He lifted his big shoulders. “As I said, I saw you in the lists. And, I also saw you in town earlier in the day. If I do not ask questions, how am I to discover anything about you?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why would you want to know anything about me?”

  He laughed softly. “Why wouldn’t I? Such beauty is rare. Are you married then, my lady?”

  “That is none of your affair.”

  It was Braxton’s voice. He suddenly appeared out of the darkness with Brooke, Norman and a limping Edgar behind him. His expression was as hard as iron, the blue-green eyes that could be so soft were like shards of glass. Gray had never seen that expression on his face before. Braxton walked up beside her, sizing up Niclas; though the tournament champion was at least a head taller, Braxton was clearly nothing to be trifled with. He was enormously muscled and powerful.

  Niclas knew of de Nerra; almost all fighting men did. Rumors and legends of the mercenary abound in the north. More than that, de Aughton’s sworn House was none other than Braxton’s own father, Baron Gilderdale. He was surprised Braxton did not know that, or at least, acknowledge it. He’d never met the earl’s youngest son before, however, and their first introduction was rather awkward. De Aughton dipped his head in acknowledgement, in respect, though his eyes had lost none of their black glimmer.

  “My apologie
s,” he said steadily. “I did not know. I meant no insolence to the lady, or to you.”

  Braxton just stared at him. Gray could sense the tension and she was uncomfortable. She did not want Braxton getting into an altercation with this knight. She put her hand on his arm.

  “I was looking for you and came across Sir Niclas instead,” she said evenly. “He has been most kind. Shall we return to camp now?”

  Braxton’s gaze lingered on Niclas a moment longer before looking at Gray. “I am sorry you had to go looking for me,” he took her hand, possessively, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “The children were hungry and could not wait for the pig. I got them something to hold them over until sup.”

  A glance at Brooke, Norman and Edgar showed the three of them eating hunks of brown bread. Brooke had something else in her hand, though Gray could not see what it was. She lifted an eyebrow at Braxton.

  “I told you not to coddle her,” she said in a low voice. “What did you buy her this time?”

  He was defiant and penitent at the same time. “Bread and some kind of candied fruit. I had to pound on four or five stalls before I could find someone who would let us in.”

  Gray closed her eyes and shook her head. Braxton, not waiting for the rebuke that was sure to come, waved an arm at the children.

  “Come along,” he told them. “Back to camp.”

  The three of them scampered past him, although one was limping badly. He started to follow when he heard Gray’s soft voice.

  “Thank you for not allowing me to come to harm, Sir Niclas,” she said. “And congratulations on your victory today.”

  Niclas thought he had been forgotten and was mildly surprised at the lady’s words. “My pleasure, my lady,” he said. “And my wishes for recovery to the injured knight.”

  Braxton did not acknowledge the man as Gray smiled weakly in response. They continued on towards the camp in silence, though Gray kept stealing side-long glances at him. He was distant and cold.

  “Are you angry with me?” she asked softly.

  He looked at her. “For what?”

  “For speaking with that knight?”

  He shook his head. “I am to blame. I should have told you where I was going so that you would not go looking for me.”

  She was on to him. “But you did not tell me so that I would not stop you from spoiling Brooke as I’d asked you not to.”

  He refused to look at her, but a smile broke through. “That is beside the point. The issue is that it is not safe for you to wander outside of my protection. Men like de Aughton can be less than chivalrous to a lone lady.”

  “Really?” she turned to look at the spot where they had left Niclas; he was predictably gone. “He did not seem threatening.”

  “He was not; at least, not at that moment. But he has interest in you.”

  “Me?” she seemed genuinely puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

  He looked at her as if she was a simpleton. “He asked if you were married, Gray. It does not require great intellect to figure out that he was inquiring for his own interest.”

  She continued to peer at him, studying his expression. It occurred to her that she had never had two men interested in her at one time; at least, not like this. It was an oddly proud and humbling awareness. But something more occurred to her as she gazed at Braxton.

  “You are jealous?” It was a statement more than a question.

  They had reached the great fire where the pig sizzled and spit over the open flame. He turned to her.

  “Call it what you will. You belong to me and I would have every man in England know it.”

  She smiled at him, her amber eyes reflecting the dancing firelight. “You needn’t worry, Braxton,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t even dream of looking at another man.”

  His icy stance broke somewhat. “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I have your attention.”

  “You have all of it and more.”

  The harsh manner faded completely and his smile broke through. “To be honest, I was not sure. You are a beautiful woman, after all, and I am….”

  He didn’t finish and she lifted an eyebrow. “You are… what?”

  He lifted his big shoulders. “I simply meant that there are better prospects out there than me.”

  She shook her head. “Not to me there isn’t. You are more than I could have dreamed of.”

  It was a sweet moment. He took her hand and kissed it in full view of the youngsters. Brooke and the boys pretended not to notice, still stuffing their faces with bread, though Brooke was understandably curious. It was the first time she had ever seen her mother smile like that. She was glad her mother was distracted, as it would make her forget that Brooke had, once again, coerced treats from Braxton. Moreover, Braxton seemed to have a way of dealing with her mother that made the woman forget everything else. Even at her young age, Brooke could see that.

  Gray and Braxton disappeared into the tent where Geoff lay, leaving the others by the fire. The pig continued to steam and smoke into the night, filling the air with a delicious smell. By the time it was finished, everyone was ravenous and the animal came apart in big pieces. Brooke and Edgar ate until they were sick and Gray found herself tending not only an injured knight but a nauseous daughter.

  In the distant camp, obsidian eyes continued to watch the crimson glow of the de Nerra tents as outlined by the great campfire. Pensive thoughts became decisive ones. He’d seen the lady earlier in the day when he’d nearly run her down on the street. He had been struck by her beauty even though she was clearly in the company of a knight he later found out to be Braxton de Nerra.

  At the tournament, he had seen her sitting in the stands, a radiant bit of loveliness surrounded by the dregs of society. He would have asked for her favor had de Nerra not hovered around her like an over eager school boy. It was obvious that she was de Nerra’s woman, though he could not be sure if they were married. He suspected that they were not. That morsel of information was the one piece he had been looking for. If she wasn’t married, then there was still a chance. Even if it did risk the wrath of de Nerra.

  Niclas was not an evil man. He was not manipulative or ruthless, at least not in the matters of men and women. But he had always been a man who got what he wanted, and tonight he knew exactly what he wanted.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Braxton, do you see the banners? Who do they belong to?”

  The morning was soft with dew, bright with new sun. The question came from Gray, seated on the wagon as the party returning from Milnthorpe drew close to Erith. Braxton was on his charger riding beside the wagon, his blue-green eyes riveted to the scraps of blue banner he could see just inside the portcullis. He did not recognize the colors at a distance.

  “I do not know,” he said. “More suitors for your daughter, I would presume.”

  Gray didn’t like the sound of that, though there could be no other explanation. “What will you do?”

  He was very calm, very casual. “Send them away, of course.”

  Gray didn’t say anymore, though her gaze lingered on his strong face. His expression was unreadable. Rightly assuming they could do nothing until they knew who it was, she turned her attention back to Geoff lying in the bed of the wagon.

  The injured knight was sleeping again, lulled by the rocking of the wagon. Surprisingly, he had awoken before dawn feeling better and without fever. Gray took it as a good sign and the party packed up for Erith. She wanted to get him back to the fortress and into a proper bed so that he could more readily heal. He’s wasn’t out of danger by a long shot and she was anxious to return home.

  Geoff wasn’t alone in the wagon. Edgar and Brooke sat at the very rear, their legs hanging over the back of the flatbed. There had not been a harsh word between then all morning, even when Brooke produced the bag of candied fruits that Braxton had bought for her the night before. She shared it with Edgar, making sure that Braxton and her mother saw her. Sh
e even shared it with Norman, who rode beside the wagon astride Geoff’s charger. With the children all getting along, it made the ride back to Erith much more pleasant. But Gray kept shooting looks at her daughter, making sure the girl was behaving.

  “Leave her alone,” Braxton’s voice was soft beside Gray.

  She turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  He looked at her, a smile on his lips. “You know exactly what I mean. She’s behaving quite nicely. She needs your trust in her ability to amend her manners, not your constant scrutiny.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him, though it was not an unkind gesture. “You know so much about children now, do you? Since when did you become an expert?”

  He looked straight ahead. “I know everything,” he said seriously.

  She laughed. “I believe that you do.”

  He cast her a sidelong glance, grinning while she laughed at him. The ride back to Erith had been filled with little glances and smiles from them both and Braxton was fairly certain that he’d never in his life experienced such joy. Had anyone suggested to him a week ago that his life would have taken such a dramatic turn, he would have laughed at them. But turn it had.

  As they continued to gaze coyly at each other, Erith loomed closer and the sentries on the repaired wall announced the approach of the party. They could hear the shouts echoing as other soldiers took up the call. Braxton broke away from Gray’s sweet face and spurred his charger into a canter, loping the big beast under the portcullis and into the ward beyond. He wanted to see for himself who had arrived and he did not want to wait.

  The first thing he saw were a few strange soldiers standing in a group near the keep. The horses near them wore blue and white standards. But a glance around the ward showed a heavy concentration of unknown soldiers near the northeast corner of the keep. There were at least a hundred. Uneasiness swept him. Braxton rode up to the small group collected near the keep.