Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “But I am not getting any younger. Perhaps we should make all due haste to conceive a child quickly so I do not die of old age before your son is born.”

  He gazed at her, his hands moving to her face again. There were a thousand unspoken words that he could not seem to bring to his lips; it seemed as if each day with the woman brought about greater pleasure and surprise. He could hardly believe this side of life existed, one where he was wildly content and with everything he had ever wanted. After a moment, he simply shook his head.

  “We have not yet known each other a full month,” he murmured. “Speaking of children seems so premature, so… aggressive. I did not marry you in order that you should bear me a child right away.”

  “I know,” her smile remained. “I brought it up, after all. Every man wants a son and it would be my deepest honor to bear yours.”

  He was truly speechless for a moment. “A son would be the greatest gift, madam,” he finally said, sincerely. “Yet I am already the most blessed man in England.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He kissed her. “Because I have you.”

  Gray smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder. It was a sweet moment broken up by Brooke as she suddenly appeared with a broom in her hand. She thumped the end of the broom on the floor to get the attention of the cuddling adults.

  “Sir Braxton?” she asked crisply. “May I ask you something?”

  Braxton looked at her as Gray unwound her arms from his neck. “You may,” he said. “But first, I must tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “Do not call me Sir Braxton.”

  Brooke cocked her head. “What should I call you?”

  “I am your mother’s husband,” he informed her of the obvious, “and, I might mention, your new father. You do not need to be so formal with me.”

  Brooke grinned, a charming smirk that emphasized the dimple in her left cheek. “Shall I call you Dada, then?”

  Braxton gave one short, big guffaw that set both Brooke and Gray to giggling. “You cheeky girl,” he rumbled, lifting an eyebrow at Brooke. “Call me whatever you wish but do not call me Sir Braxton ever again.”

  Brooke was still snorting; she leaned down and pecked Braxton on the cheek. “As you command, Dada,” she said lightly. “Now, may I ask my question?”

  She was taunting him; he could see it. But he was also quite charmed by it and pleased that she felt comfortable enough with him to show some affection. After their tumultuous beginning, he wondered if they would ever reach that state.

  “Very well,” he sighed. “What is it?”

  “Would it be too much trouble to procure a few more servants for the keep?” she asked. “What I mean is that our servants are very old. It is difficult for them to do the amount of work that is now required with all of the people living in the keep. I believe we need some strong, young peasants to help us.”

  “Brooke,” Gray shook her head admonishingly, but Braxton stopped her. He looked as if he was seriously considering her request.

  “What would you suggest, Lady Aston?” he asked her.

  Brooke cocked her head thoughtfully, leaning on the broom. “We need at least two strong men to help in the kitchens and in the hall. It is too much work for the women with all of the additional people we now have eating and living in the keep,” she replied. “I believe we also need at least two or three more women to help out. There is much to do around here and not enough people to do it. Why, I myself must sweep the floor because everyone else is busy.”

  She suddenly shook the broom at him. Gray was moving to her feet in outrage but Braxton stood up with her, putting his arm around his wife and giving her a good squeeze to silence her; Brooke was now lady of the keep and must be given that confidence and control.

  “I will see what I can do,” he assured Brooke patiently. “For now, I will have one of my men do the sweeping. You do not need to do it.”

  “Oh, good heavens,” Gray rolled her eyes and yanked the broom from her daughter’s grip. “This conversation is ridiculous. Give me that broom and I shall do the sweeping.”

  Braxton snatched the broom from her and held it out of her reach. “Nay, Lady de Nerra, you will not,” he moved away from her as she swiped at the broom, trying to snatch it from him. He made haste towards the door with Gray following. “Go away from me, woman. You cannot have the broom.”

  Brooke was laughing uproariously as Gray went after Braxton and he made every effort to stay out of her way. He was too big, fast and agile for her but Gray wasn’t make a very strong attempt; her ribs were still sore so she finally surrendered as he gave her a flashy grin and darted out of the front door. Gray stood there with a smirk of her face, shaking her head, as Brooke came up beside her.

  “He is funny,” she turned to her mother. “Do you really think he is going to find someone to sweep?”

  Gray gazed at her daughter, tucking a stray piece of blond hair behind her ear. “Aye, I believe he is going to find someone to sweep,” she winked at her child. “Returned to your duties, sweetheart. You are doing a marvelous job.”

  Brooke flashed a happy grin, thrilled with her mother’s approval. “What are you going to do now?”

  Gray sighed, her amber gaze lingering on the bailey beyond the door in the hope that she might catch a glimpse of her husband with the broom. “Rest, I suppose,” she said. “There isn’t anything for me to do and I feel rather useless.”

  Brooke’s smile faded. “You are not useless, mama. Braxton simply doesn’t want you to work. This is my keep now and I should be doing all of the work, anyway.”

  Gray smiled faintly at her daughter, stroking the young woman’s blond head before moving to the stairs. Just as she did so, Dallas suddenly came bolting through the keep door with the broom in his hand. He smiled sweetly at his wife, completely ignorant of the fact that his mother-in-law was standing on the stairs just to his left. He had eyes only for Brooke.

  “Greetings, Lady Aston,” he said jovially. “I have come to sweep your floor.”

  Brooke blushed furiously as Gray chuckled. “Is this the type of strong, young help you had in mind, Brooke?” she asked.

  Brooke’s gaze moved between her mother and her husband. “Well… aye, I suppose,” she was growing increasingly embarrassed. She focused on her husband. “You do not have to sweep the floor. I can do it. I thought Braxton was going to have one of his soldiers do it.”

  Dallas winked at her. “I am one of his soldiers,” he said, glancing over at Gray on the stairs. “Good morning to you, Lady de Nerra. ’Tis a fine day.”

  He was far too cheerful, more so that Gray had ever seen him. The serious young knight had sprouted a lively personality and bright grin in the past few days. She repressed the urge to laugh at his giddiness which she could only assume had been brought on by the appearance of his wife. It was sweet and hilarious. She smiled at the young knight as she continued her trek up the steps.

  “Aye, it is,” she replied. “Enjoy sweeping the floor.”

  Dallas watched the beautiful woman disappear up the stairs before turning to his wife. She gazed up at him adoringly with her luminous blue eyes.

  “You really do not have to sweep,” she said quietly. “I can do it just as well.”

  His smile grew warm. “But I want to do it. It gives me an excuse to be close to you.”

  She batted her eyelashes sweetly at him and he took her hand, leading her back into the hall which was now completely empty. The dogs were snoring in the corner and the hearth was snapping dully with a low fire. Dallas took her over by the hearth and sat her down on the great table that had been strongly reinforced in the past few days.

  “Sit,” he commanded softly as he began to sweep. “Tell me how your day has been so far.”

  She sat obediently and watched him sweep. “It has been well enough,” she told him. “The cook and I inventoried the stores this morning. I fear we will be out of white
flour in a few days.”

  He glanced up at her as he swept the old rushes and food into the hearth. “We must remedy that.”

  “Can we go to town?”

  He shook his head. “You will stay here,” he said. “I want you here where it is safe.”

  She was disappointed, sitting somewhat dejected as he continued to sweep. “It is not that safe here,” she said pointedly. “The walls are falling down and if someone was truly intent on breaching this place, they could.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Have you not seen the grounds lately?” he asked, incredulous. “My soldiers have been repairing night and day. The walls are being rebuilt, madam, along with everything else. Both portcullises are now working. Erith is returning to her former glory as we speak.”

  She made a face. “I have not been outside as of late,” she admitted. “I have spent most of my days in the kitchen or here in the hall. Have you seen how nice the keep looks?”

  He could see that the rebuilding of the castle didn’t impress her nearly as much as the living space that she was in charge of. He smiled at her. “It is an amazing transformation,” he assured her. “You have done an exceptional job.”

  Brooke smiled bashfully. “Do you think so?”

  “I do.”

  Her smile deepened. “Do you think it would be too much if we were to get some fine chairs for the hall? And perhaps even rugs if we have enough money?”

  He nodded. “Perhaps,” he replied, sweeping briskly. “We shall have the finest keep in all of Cumbria someday.”

  She looked down at her fingernails, picking at them. “I was hoping that… well, hoping that….”

  He looked at her when she didn’t finish. “Hoping what?”

  She shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Well, I was hoping we could go shopping in town together to purchase flour and other fine things for our keep,” she continued picking at her nails. “I do not see much of you while we are at Erith. When we travel, it seems as if I see you a great deal. You always seem to be near me.”

  He paused after sweeping a pile of crumbs into the hearth. “I am sorry,” he suddenly didn’t feel like sweeping anymore and went over to sit next to her. “Things are very busy at Erith these days. If I had a choice, I would certainly not spend my time away from you. But it is necessary. The castle and her walls must be fortified.”

  She gazed up at him, smiling faintly. “I know.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “We must repair the fortress as much as possible before Gloucester comes.”

  She suddenly looked fearful. “Will he really come?”

  Dallas shrugged, realizing he didn’t want to frighten her more than she probably already was. “It is entirely possible. In any case, we must be prepared.”

  She looked up at him a moment longer before timidly laying her head against his broad shoulder. Dallas dropped the broom and wrapped both arms around her fiercely. He hadn’t even been married to her for a week yet he felt such excitement and contentment when she was in his arms, it was as if he had been dreaming of it all of his life. Brooke’s innocence, her beauty, her sweetness touched him like no one else ever had. The beautiful wild rose he had once imagined her to be was taming admirably. He still had trouble believing it.

  “Do not fret, love,” he murmured into the top of her blond head. “Erith will be strong. Our fortress will not fall.”

  She responded by wrapping her arms around his waist, tightly. “I do not care about Erith so much as I care about you,” she whispered. “I have never seen a battle before until the day we returned from Milnthorpe. I am afraid for you.”

  He smiled faintly, pulling her closer. “No need,” he said softly. “All will be well.”

  She lifted her head and looked up at him. “But how do you know? Those men will be trying to kill you.”

  “Men have been trying to kill me for five years. No one has yet succeeded.”

  She frowned at him, unhappy. “That does not mean that your luck will hold out forever,” she was sorry she said it even as the words left her mouth. She climbed onto the bench, her knees on the wood and her body pressed up against her husband. While she toyed with his shoulder-length hair, Dallas kept his arms wrapped around her slender torso.

  “I just do not want anything to happen to you, ’tis all,” she insisted softly. “I am worried.”

  He sighed faintly as he rubbed her back affectionately. “I appreciate that, but you must not worry,” he assured her. “I can do well for myself.”

  She smiled timidly, accepting his kiss by throwing her arms around his neck and strangling him. It was becoming quite a habit with her and he laughed softly in his throat even as his lips fused to hers.

  “Can I please come to town with you?” she asked, her mouth against his.

  “Nay,” he murmured as his lips suckled hers.

  “Why not?”

  He was becoming upswept in the lust and passion that seemed to explode whenever he took her in his arms. He was in the process of tasting heavily of her when he heard a soft cough behind him. Somewhat startled, he turned around swiftly to see Braxton standing several feet behind him.

  Braxton’s expression was grave, a far cry from the jovial man from just a few minutes prior. “I am sorry to intrude,” he said, looking at Dallas. “You will come with me.”

  Simply by the man’s tone, Dallas didn’t ask questions; he went immediately to Braxton’s side, followed by Brooke. But Braxton grasped her by the elbow before she could follow them.

  “Nay, lady,” he said softly. “You remain here. I only require your husband.”

  Brooke’s big blue eyes followed her husband and Braxton from the keep. When they had quit the keep, she reckoned it would not hurt if she were to go to the door and see where they were going. So she moved to the open entry and stood there, watching them as they disembarked the staircase and headed towards the inner gatehouse.

  Brooke watched them move towards a cart that was parked just inside the gatehouse, surrounded by several of Braxton’s men. There was a buzz going about as more men dropped what they were doing to come and view the contents of the cart. As men moved aside to allow Braxton and Dallas access, Brooke suddenly saw what had them so interested.

  The cart was full of dismembered body parts; arms, legs, torsos and heads. It was blood and carnage like she had never seen and Brook’s horror was full blown.

  Dallas heard her scream from the keep.

  *

  “What do you plan to do, Braxton?” Gray’s voice was soft with concern.

  Braxton gazed down at his wife and daughter; Brooke was cradled against her mother’s chest, sobbing softly. Gray was composed as she comforted her daughter but there was fear in her expression. She was remaining strong for Brooke’s sake; the young woman was positively distraught and for good reason. Gloucester had sent back the men who had escorted the bodies of Roger and William home back in pieces. The mood surrounding Erith was now dark and somber; bad tidings were in the air. What they had feared was upon them.

  “You will not like my answer,” Braxton sighed faintly. “Gloucester sent three of my men back dead but left the fourth man alive to deliver a message. I am not going to sit here and wait for Gloucester to come down around us.”

  Gray lowered her gaze, rocking her daughter gently as the great hall filled with pregnant, horrible anticipation in the wake of Braxton’s statement. She could hear men outside shouting and sounding extremely busy; she didn’t want to look outside to see what they were doing. She had a suspicion. Braxton’s reply only increased her anxiety.

  “Tell me what you are planning,” she begged quietly.

  Braxton heard footfalls entering the hall, glancing to Dallas as the man entered the room in full battle armor. He turned back to his wife.

  “I ride for Elswick Castle, the seat of Roger de Clare,” he said quietly. “I will lay siege and take the castle a prize.”

  Gray didn’t say anything; she simply closed her eyes and held her dau
ghter tightly. She knew of Elwick Castle, the formidable bastion inhabited by the de Clares. As Dallas reached down to gently pull Brooke from her grasp, Gray stood up to face Braxton.

  “Braxton,” she murmured. “I would never dream of interfering in military matters, but you surely know that an attack upon Elswick is a critical undertaking.”

  He put his arm around her, leading her away from where Dallas was comforting Brooke. What he needed to say was for her ears alone.

  “You must understand something so there is no mistake,” he lowered his voice as they made their way towards the keep entry. “The bodies of those men returned from de Clare were only the beginning. Gloucester plans to attack and he will do to every man and woman at Erith what he did to my soldiers. He will destroy us.”

  By this time, Gray had come to a stop, gazing at him with incredible fear. She was struggling to keep the tears at bay. “So you plan to attack them first?” she hissed. “How will attacking Elswick make any difference?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “It will make a difference because I intend to confiscate Elswick and hold the remainder of Roger’s family hostage as a guarantee that Gloucester will leave Erith alone.” As Gray watched, Braxton suddenly turned into the calculating mercenary before her very eyes. She had never seen this side of him, ever. “I might return the wife at some point, but I will keep the children as insurance against de Clare’s good behavior.”

  She stared at him. “Oh… Braxton,” she sighed heavily, feeling ill and saddened. “You would do this? They are only children, after all.”

  “Gloucester would do the same and not give it any thought. The man will know the meaning of what it is to be ruthless before I am finished with him.”

  Gray could see the cold blooded killer in his eyes and it frightened her; she’d only known the man to be sweet, warm and generous. The transformation was shocking. But upon reflection, she knew that Braxton was the most feared mercenary in England. She was beginning to see why. After a moment, she sighed heavily and looked away.

  “I will not tell you how to conduct your business, for these are matters of which I know little,” she said quietly. “But I do ask that you remember the children are innocent in all of this, just as Brooke and I are. War is a man’s domain. I would plead with you to deal mercifully with the children.”