Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Nay, Braxton,” she said obediently. “It does not. I apologize.”

  He looked at her, realizing he’d been snappish, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “As do I,” he murmured, kissing her again. “I did not mean to be curt. Please lie down and I will return as soon as I know why de Aughton is here.”

  She smiled at him and he returned the gesture, winking at her as he quit the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Gray stood there a moment, her thoughts going with him, wondering with increasing trepidation as to why Niclas de Aughton had reappeared. But her curiosity wasn’t enough to overcome her fatigue and she obediently took to her bed just as she had promised him.

  She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  In Brooke and Dallas’ chamber on the floor above, it was anything but still and quiet. After a temper tantrum and tears, Dallas had made up with his wife the only way he could think of; he was preparing to make love to her. But he wasn’t moving fast enough pulling off his armor and Brooke almost ripped his ears off again removing his hauberk. They laughed as the hauberk hit the floor, he rubbed his ears, and pulled Brooke into his arms once more, kissing her amorously. But there was more clothing that needed to come off so in between heated kisses, they managed to rip off every last stitch of clothing and fall together on the bed.

  Dallas was grimy and sweaty, but it didn’t matter to Brooke. She was just glad to have him warm and alive in her arms. Over the past several weeks, she had become sexually insatiable and Dallas, although understandably overjoyed, found himself aroused in the oddest situations; he’d taken her several times in the stables, in the kitchens, once in Erith’s big armory in the southwest tower, and at least twice a day in their bedchamber. Her young, nubile body was agile and responsive, so much so that Dallas was finding himself a slave to her desires. All she had to do was look at him or touch him and he was instantly aroused, visions of mounting her sweet body filling his brain. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  But it was more than that now. Even as he pushed her onto her back and suckled her tender nipples, he felt more emotion for the woman than he had ever felt in his life, for anyone. He tasted her flesh, listened to her soft grunts of pleasure, and it overwhelmed him. When he rose to his knees and wedged himself between her slender legs, pulling her pelvis against his, all he could think of was how beautiful and sweet she was. And when he finally buried his manhood deep inside her slick body, all he could think of was how much he loved her.

  Dallas thrust into her repeatedly, feeling her body respond to his as if God had made her for him exclusively. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks, keeping him buried tightly inside of her as their bodies moved together as one. In little time, he could feel her multiple releases and it threw him over the edge, spilling himself deep. He lay against her afterwards, feeling their hearts pounding, smelling her gentle musky scent and wishing that he could spend the rest of his life with her just as they were.

  Brooke’s small hands caressed him, moving over his back, his arms, finally coming to rest on is buttocks, which she stroked gently. He could tell by her touch that she felt for him as he felt for her. Their feelings for each other were strong and enduring, growing more solidified by the day. In little time he was hard again and he resumed making love to her as the day began to wane.

  After the third round of lovemaking, they lay sweaty and intertwined in each other beneath the linens. Brooke’s eyes were closed and he was sure she was sleeping, but he couldn’t help touching her face as he studied her. She was such a lovely creature. When he touched her nose, she wrinkled it up and scratched at it. Then her blue eyes opened, fixing on him.

  Dallas smiled at her. “Did I wake you?”

  She returned his smile. “No,” she whispered, taking the hand that was on her head and putting it on her bare breast. He squeezed and she wrapped her legs around him, arching her pelvis against his. “I have missed you.”

  He fondled her pert and perfect breast gently. “And I have missed you,” he murmured. “In fact, there is something you should know.”

  She closed her eyes as he began to play with a taut nipple. “What is that?”

  “You have my heart, Brooke.”

  She paused in her pleasure, opening her eyes to look at him. Her expression morphed into one of surprise.

  “I do?” she asked, amazed.

  He nodded, smiling at her reaction. “You do,” he whispered. “I love you very much.”

  She stared at him. Then, the most miraculous smile came over her lips and she threw her arms around his neck, enthusiastically strangling him. “Oh, Dallas,” she murmured. “I love you also. I love you more than anything.”

  He laughed low in his throat, holding her close. There wasn’t much more he could say at that point so he let his body do the talking for him. He made love to her once more, every move and every sensation infused with the deep love they felt for one another. Dallas had never been happier or more content, knowing he shared something with Brooke that few people ever experienced in their lifetime. He felt blessed. But he refused to think on the upcoming separation, knowing it would probably hurt him more than it hurt her. Already, it was killing him.

  Exhausted, content, he fell into a deep sleep next to his wife.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Your father is less than a day behind me, my lord,” de Aughton said. “He told me to tell you that Northumberland has sent him to discover the truth about your association with Lady Gray.”

  Seated across from de Aughton at the table in the banqueting hall, Braxton’s eyebrows slowly lifted. “Association?”

  Niclas’s black eyes flickered; for a moment, he looked uncomfortable. “A missive was delivered to your father from Lord de Vesci on behalf of the Lady Constance Gray de Montfort. Apparently, Lady de Montfort feels that her daughter is with you against your will and has asked Lord de Vesci to intervene. Your father rides to Erith to sort out the situation.”

  Braxton, exhausted as he was, found that he wasn’t as in control of his emotions as he usually was. He scowled at de Aughton.

  “That is madness,” he hissed, wiping both hands over his face as the news sank in. “I exiled the woman from Erith and somehow she has made her way back to her family in Northumberland, now to spread more lies about me.”

  De Aughton wasn’t privy to the politics that had gone on between Lady Constance and Braxton and was unsure how to reply.

  “De Vesci is very concerned, apparently; enough to send your father to investigate.”

  Braxton just looked at him, sighing heavily. “Lady Constance is a cunning liar and a grand opportunist,” he snapped softly. “That woman has been seeking to destroy me since nearly the moment I met Gray.”

  Niclas could see the man was genuinely upset. “I told your father that, from what I witnessed, Lady Gray was not with you against her will,” he wriggled his eyebrows. “I can attest to the fact that she will not be separated from you and I sincerely doubt it is because she is afraid of you or being held hostage.”

  In the midst of his outrage, Braxton saw humor in the statement. Whereas before he would not let himself succumb to any emotion in front of Niclas, now, he wasn’t so careful about it. There was no reason to be. He eventually shook his head as if baffled by the entire circumstance.

  “Gray and I married because we love one another,” he said simply. “Gray’s mother has been trying to sell off her granddaughter to the highest bidder since the girl came of marriageable age and she is furious that I interrupted her plans by marrying Brooke to one of my knights. That old bitch has been trying my patience since the moment I met her; all of the chaos you saw out in the bailey, the battle scars and damage, are because of her.”

  De Aughton toyed with his cup of wine, a better quality product since Braxton and his money had overtaken the keep.

  “I saw an army camped about three miles to the east,” he said quietly. “I would assume they are your antagonists?”

  Braxton nodd
ed faintly. “They are,” he looked at de Aughton and thought the man might deserve some explanation. “It is Roger de Clare’s army. They are awaiting reinforcements from Gloucester.”

  Niclas’ eyebrows lifted. “Gloucester?” he repeated, incredulous. “Why on earth are they harassing you?”

  Braxton took a swallow of the Spanish Port wine. “Because Gray’s mother sent a missive to them promising Brooke’s hand in marriage, only Brooke was already married by the time they arrived here to negotiate the contract,” he sighed, glancing around the walls of the great old hall. “In the confusion surrounding that, Roger and his heir were accidentally killed. Gloucester is understandably upset about it and, I would assume, is planning on razing Erith in punishment.”

  Niclas understood a great deal in that quiet explanation. Braxton seemed angry more than anything, a fury to which he was indeed entitled. It was an extremely serious matter. But it also brought up another serious issue, one he was hesitant to mention but felt, for the sake of them both, that he must.

  “Gloucester and Northumberland are allies,” Niclas’ voice was quiet, hesitant. “Your father serves Northumberland. If he is ordered to support Gloucester, then we have a problem on our hands.”

  Braxton looked at him. “My father is sworn to Northumberland but I doubt that it will supersede family ties, and at such time we will indeed have a problem because I am sure my father will support me. It is therefore my father with the problem and not me.”

  De Aughton understood that completely. “May I offer advice, my lord?”

  Braxton lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Please.”

  Niclas set down the cup, his obsidian eyes intense. “Remove Lady Gray and her daughter from Erith immediately,” he said. “The longer you delay, the more chance there will be that you will never be able to remove them from Erith. If Gloucester returns with reinforcements as you have said, then your wife and her daughter will be in mortal danger. I am not sure how your father is going to react to all of this so it is better to remove the women. We could have a bloodbath on our hands with all of these politics converging.”

  Braxton nodded slowly, finishing off his wine. “I realize that,” he said. “And I have already made plans to remove them. In fact, they will be vacated from the castle before the day is through.”

  Niclas nodded, in complete agreement. “Where are you sending them?”

  Braxton wriggled his eyebrows. “You should know that my wife is an exceptionally stubborn woman,” he said. “She does not want to leave Erith no matter how much I plead or threaten, so I resorted to bribery. I am sending her to Lancaster with promises of shopping trips and luxurious accommodations.”

  Niclas’ brow furrowed. “You are sending her to the city?”

  “Aye.” Braxton noticed an expression of doubt on Niclas’ face. “And why not?”

  Niclas realized that Braxton had deciphered his slightly confused countenance and hastened to recover. He didn’t want to seem critical or superior. “I would assume she is staying some place fortified?”

  Braxton shook his head. “A very luxurious inn where her every whim will be catered to. I fear it is the only way I could convince her to leave, mostly because her daughter very much wants to go there. If Brooke goes, then Gray will follow.”

  Niclas stared at him a moment before shaking his head and averting his gaze. It was clear he disapproved. Braxton caught on and he leaned forward on the table.

  “Why do you look so? You disagree?”

  Niclas shook his head. Then he shrugged. “In my humble opinion, if Gloucester tracks her to such a place, there will be no protection for her at all. They will be able to take her without a fight and you will find yourself at their mercy.”

  Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “I realize that,” he said. “I am sending her with a contingent of men, designed to protect and watch over her,” he said as if Niclas had pegged him for an idiot. “The men understand that if my wife is followed, they are to remove her immediately. These men are cunning and seasoned; they will not allow her to come to harm.”

  Niclas could see that Braxton was riled so he maintained his cool demeanor. “I have no doubt of your foresight, my lord,” he said. “However, if it were me, I would send her to an allied fortress. At least there, you know she would be amply protected and you would not have to worry. Do you not have an ally you can send her to?”

  Braxton thought a moment. “Aye,” he said slowly. “There is a castle to the north, near Kendal, called Creekmere. Baron Wenvoe and I have an understanding.”

  “Then send her there until this is over. If it were my wife, I would not send her anywhere else for my own peace of mind.”

  Braxton stared at the man a moment, digesting his advice, realizing as the fog began to clear that he was absolutely right. Braxton had been trying so hard to appease his wife and daughter that he had been lax in their security, the very reason he was sending them away in the first place. He had let his emotions get the better of him, not the facts that he knew so well. Niclas was correct; if Gloucester caught wind of Gray and Brooke somewhere they could easily breach, then the ladies’ lives would be in far more danger. He would have to suffer through their tears and denials and do what he felt best; send them to a fortress where they would be protected, even if it was tiny Creekmere.

  Braxton finally stood up, realizing he had a lot of work ahead of him, things he had to fix as a result of his own short-sightedness. The time for pleasantries was gone.

  “Find my father and tell him the situation,” he said. “Let him know that Gloucester is about to hammer us. Meanwhile, I will send my wife and daughter someplace safe. I thank you for your prudent advice.”

  Niclas rose quickly, collecting his helm and heading for the door. “Do you wish for me to escort them, my lord?”

  Braxton looked at the man; although he had proven himself reliable and wise since the incident outside of Milnthorpe, he still didn’t trust the man completely where Gray was concerned. Niclas still had that hunger to his eyes when discussing Lady de Nerra and Braxton wasn’t so sure if he sent Gray with the man that he would ever see her again. Still, the coming conflict left him unable to spare Dallas or Graehm to escort the ladies; it would have been desirable to have at least once seasoned knight as their protection. But not de Aughton.

  “Nay,” he said after a moment. “I am sure my father will require your services should this situation get out of hand.”

  “Your father has ten knights under his command,” Niclas told him. “I can be spared should you require my assistance.”

  Braxton’s gaze lingered on him. “You will understand if I decline your offer, de Aughton. Although I appreciate your generosity, I will again say no. Go now and tell my father the situation.”

  “By your command, my lord.”

  “And tell him to hurry.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Braxton watched Niclas dash from the keep, all the while just the least bit frustrated with himself for not having seen the situation with his wife as clearly as he should have. As he ascended the stairs to their second floor chamber, he ran into Dallas descending from the top floor where he and Brooke slept. A few words to Dallas relayed the situation, the decision, and Dallas heartily agreed.

  As Dallas retraced his steps back to the top floor to prepare his wife for her journey to Creekmere, Braxton entered the chamber he shared with Gray only to find her sleeping peacefully. He paused a moment, gazing at her, thinking he’d never in his life loved someone, or something, as much as he loved her. She was everything to him, his very reason for living and breathing. He didn’t want to be separated from her and he didn’t want her to be miserable, but life wasn’t always the ease one hoped for. Just when Gray was beginning to experience the life of love and luxury she deserved, her happiness was about to take another downturn.

  So was his.

  *

  Thomas de Nerra entered the outer gatehouse of Erith Castle, looking around the place with g
reat curiosity. He’d heard of Erith, of course, one of Simon de Montfort’s holdings and knew that the castle had seen great men of history pass through her halls. But the castle around him, though big and bulky and marginally fortified, still seemed like a shell of its former reputation. To him, it looked like a ghost.

  Gray stone and much rebuilding met him as he entered the inner bailey. Several of Braxton’s men came out to greet the party, having been told of their impending arrival. A tall, blond knight greeted them formally in the dusty, cluttered inner ward.

  “My lords,” Dallas said to the general group dismounting their expensive chargers. “I am Sir Dallas Aston, Sir Braxton’s second in command.”

  Thomas turned to the young knight, inspecting the man just as he had inspected the keep; the blue-green eyes missed nothing, as sharp as a hawk.

  “Where is my son?” he asked, removing his mail gloves.

  Dallas could immediately see the resemblance between father and son. “He will join you shortly,” he replied. “He asks that I escort you to the banqueting hall.”

  Thomas grunted, perhaps in disapproval that his son had not been in the ward to greet him, but kept silent on the matter. Leaving de Aughton and his three grandsons in charge of settling the men, he tossed his mail gloves back onto his saddle as he began to follow Dallas across the bailey and towards the newly re-built stairs that led to the keep. It had taken twenty men less than a day to build the flight, which was far sturdier than the original stairs.

  The rest of the men were concentrated on building three enormous mangonels, great monstrous sling-shot devices that were positioned in the inner bailey at regular intervals. Erith Castle was built so that the north and west walls were facing a mountainous crag and between the crag and the outerwalls were big ditches that had been dug long ago. Great boulders and remnants of obstacles remained in the ditch, and a military approach from those sides was not the wisest of choices. There were too many obstacles and pitfalls, making the going treacherous.