Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Havilland looked at her little sister and thought she might like to tell her about Jamison. After all, she’d told no one and something inside her felt like bursting, to declare her joy to the world. She put her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

  “Because Sir Jamison had them brought to us,” she said. “So very much has happened since he and the de Lohr knights arrived, I hardly know where to start. Ammie… he has asked me to marry him.”

  Amaline looked at her sister with big eyes. “He has?” she said. “But… but he spanked you! When he first met you, he spanked you!”

  Havilland giggled, kissing her sister on the temple. “I know, little chick,” she said. Then, she sighed somewhat dramatically. “I do not know how this has happened, only that is has. One moment, he was telling me that I was a disgrace to my sex and the next, he was telling me he wishes to marry me. Ammie, he is not like any other men we have ever known… he is thoughtful and compassionate. I know it is difficult to believe by looking at him, but he is. And when he saved me yesterday from Evon… oh, Ammie, you should have seen him! He was magnificent! There is not a man in the world who can best him in a fight.”

  By this time, Amaline’s mouth was hanging open, shocked to the bone that her serious and duty-minded sister should show attention to a man. It was almost more than she could bear.

  “You… you like him!” she accused. “Havi, is it true? You like him?”

  Havilland nodded, feeling her cheeks flush at the admission. It wasn’t as if she was embarrassed about it – it was more the way thoughts of him made her feel. He made her feel all warm and flushed inside.

  “It is true,” she said, giving her sister a squeeze. “I like him a great deal. And I have decided to accept his marriage proposal.”

  Amaline’s features slacked in shock and, as Havilland watched, turned to distress. “Marriage,” she finally breathed. “Oh, Havi… even as you say it, I cannot believe it. You have never expressed interest in marriage at all. When we spoke of it yesterday with Madeline, you never said a word. She spoke of wearing dresses and having children, but you did not say anything about it.”

  Havilland’s giddy excitement took a dousing with Amaline’s angst. “Just because I did not speak of it does not mean I was not thinking about it,” she said. “Of course, I would like to marry and have children. I simply have not thought any more than that on the subject. But Jamison is offering me a fine marriage with a man I truly admire. I can see nothing wrong with it.

  “Except that you will be leaving me,” Amaline said, full of sorrow. “With Madeline in the vault and you marrying, I will be left here all alone.”

  Havilland put her arms around her sister, squeezing her. “I promise I will not leave you all alone,” she said. “You can come with Jamison and me, wherever we go.”

  “But what will happen to Papa and Four Crosses?”

  Havilland’s gaze lingered on her younger sister for a moment. “I have a feeling that Lord de Lohr will know of Papa’s situation soon enough,” she said quietly. “It is time he knows, Ammie. We cannot keep up the charade any longer. With the Welsh on the attack, I will be honest… it is more than I wish to handle alone. I am very tired of handling such terrible problems alone. I do not want to do it anymore.”

  Amaline knew the burden of command had taken a toll on Havilland since their father had gone completely mad. She had watched her sister go from a relatively carefree maiden to a serious, sometimes sullen young woman. When their father was in command, the situation was much better with the sisters because the responsibility wasn’t theirs. But when Roald lost his mind, Havilland had been forced to assume that burden. It had been a great deal for her to handle.

  “I know,” Amaline said. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be selfish. If you like Jamison, then you should marry him.”

  “And you will come with us?”

  “Aye, of course. But… but what of Madeline?”

  Havilland shook her head. “Her place in the vault is of her own doing,” she said. “I cannot help her. You cannot help her. I am afraid she is lost to us.”

  In spite of her declaration the day before that she hoped Madeline was never released, a night of sleep and longing for her sister had changed Amaline’s mind somewhat. She and Madeline had always been close in spite of Madeline being mean and manipulative at times. Still, Madeline was their sister, part of their blood. The morning saw Amaline torn on her position about Madeline’s imprisonment.

  “Will you never speak to her again, then?” she asked quietly.

  Havilland shrugged. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “She almost let Evon kill me. I am not sure I can forgive her for that.”

  Amaline understood. But something in her felt a good deal of pity in spite of everything. “I understand,” she said, sorrow in her voice. Her gaze trailed off to the dresses on the chair and on the bed, and she hastened to change the subject. Speaking of Madeline was too depressing. “Will you tell me why Sir Jamison brought us these dresses, then?”

  Havilland, who still had her sister in an embrace, released the young woman. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “He told me that we should put them on and then he had a surprise for us.”

  Amaline was greatly interested in that. “A surprise?” she asked, the distress from moments before out of her voice. “I wonder what it could be?”

  Havilland shrugged. “Unless we put these dresses on, we shall never find out,” she said, picking up the green dress. “You help me put this one on and I shall help you put the blue one on.”

  Amaline was more than eager to help, her depression about Madeline eased by the lure of some manner of a surprise. When Bethan entered the room a few moments later, bearing hot water, the toilette of Havilland and Amaline was in full swing. Having never dressed as women before, it was something of an adventure, but in the end, it was something they very much liked.

  Finally, without Roald de Llion convincing them that breeches and tunics were acceptable clothing for young ladies, they were able to experience what they’d never experienced in their life –

  The feeling of being a woman for the very first time.

  *

  Jamison was waiting on the landing.

  Exactly half an hour after leaving Havilland to dress, Jamison had returned. He was without his mail on this day. Instead, he wore a type of traditional Highland dress – over a traditional saffron tunic he wore his brecan, woven around his waist to create the traditional great kilt, or pladjer – the Gaelic name for the type of dress he was wearing. It was a very Scots style of dress, something Jamison never really wore, but on this occasion, he thought he should. He was proud to wear it, proud for Havilland to see him in it. This was what she would be marrying into, a clan that was nearly as old as Scotland herself.

  On his feet were his heavy boots, something that wasn’t particularly Scots but he liked his shoes and didn’t want to part with them. He’d washed his face and hands, and he’d even shaved, so when he knocked on Havilland’s chamber door, he was ready to face her.

  But what he saw when the door opened took his breath away.

  Havilland stood before him, dressed in her mother’s green dress, laced into the garment so that her breasts looked full and delicious and her slender waist was emphasized. Her dark hair, so soft and lovely, had been plaited into two braids that draped elegantly over her shoulders. Someone who knew something about dressing women had taken a pale green scarf made from albatross, a very fine type of fabric, and had wrapped it around her head, like a headband, and wove it into her braids. Jamison swore, at that very moment, that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

  “M’lady,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Surely the angels are jealous of yer beauty. Ye’re the finest woman I’ve ever had the privilege tae see.”

  Havilland flushed deeply, hugely flattered and hugely embarrassed. “My thanks,” she said. “Bethan helped us dress.”

  “Bethan?”

&nb
sp; Havilland pointed into the chamber to the older serving woman standing over by Amaline. “She used to be my mother’s maid.”

  Jamison nodded to the woman. He had met her during the course of the early morning when he had her bring garments up to Havilland’s chamber. “Ye’ve done her justice,” he said to Bethan. Catching sight of Amaline, whose wild red hair had been tamed and put into a hair net, he smiled his approval. “On both ladies. Ye’ve done a remarkable job.”

  The old maid waved him off, grinning. “’Tis you I should thank, my lord,” she said, finishing with a pin in Amaline’s hair. “I have been wanting to tame these young women for years but there has been no one to support my position. Lady Precious’ daughters are meant to be young women, not soldiers in the field.”

  Jamison chuckled at the old woman, chuckling again when Amaline yelped because a pin poked her scalp. But his gaze returned to Havilland, standing beautiful and groomed before him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “Well?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. “How does it feel?”

  “How does what feel?”

  “Looking the way you were always meant to look.”

  Havilland grinned, pulling nervously at the scarf on her head. “It seems very strange,” she admitted. “I saw myself in the bronze mirror and I am the exact image of my mother.”

  “Then yer mother was a beautiful woman.”

  “Aye, she was,” she said. Then, her gaze moved down his body, realizing he wasn’t wearing any breeches. He had his cloak all wrapped around his torso and legs and she peered strangely at his clothing. “What are you wearing?”

  Jamison looked down at himself. “This is what the Highlanders wear, lass,” he told her. “Ye see this long stretch of fabric? ’Tis called a brecan. The way I have it doubled up and wrapped around me legs is called a pladjer. And the big tunic ye see beneath it is traditional, too. It goes down tae me knees. We dress this way for comfort and warmth. ’Tis the proud dress o’ a Scotsman.”

  Havilland was looking at it all quite closely. “I have seen you wear this woolen fabric as a cloak,” she said. “But I have never seen it used for a skirt before.”

  He grinned. “If ye tell a Scotsmen he is wearin’ a skirt, then ye’d better be prepared tae defend yer words,” he said, watching her grin. “’Tis no skirt, lass. ’Tis a Scotsman’s traditional clothing and we wear it proudly.”

  She looked up at him. “But you wear breeches and tunics like the English,” she said. “Why do you not dress like your kinsmen all of the time?”

  He shrugged. “’Tis a personal choice for me,” he said. “I am more comfortable with me legs covered.”

  It was a simple explanation but it made sense. Jamison continued to stand there, grinning like a fool at Havilland because once the discussion about his clothing was finished, the focus was back on her and her dress. She looked so vastly uncomfortable that he found it humorous. But he knew it was purely out of ignorance on her part. If the woman realized the scope of even half of her beauty, she wouldn’t be embarrassed at all. She was embarrassed because all of this was so new and uncertain to her. But she wouldn’t be embarrassed long, he hoped. May new things were coming to her today and he hoped she would find all of it thrilling.

  “There,” Bethan shoved the last pin into Amaline’s hair, swatting the girl on the backside when she whined and pulled away. “The ladies are ready, my lord.”

  “Excellent,” Jamison said. Then, he held out an elbow to Havilland, who looked at it dumbly. She had no idea what to do with it. “M’lady, when a man offers ye his arm, he means tae escort ye.”

  “Escort me where?”

  “Take me elbow, ye insufferable wench.”

  He said it so comically that Havilland snorted at him and clutched his elbow. “Very well, then,” she said. “What about Amaline? Will she take your elbow, too?”

  He nodded. “Of course, she will,” he said. “Once we quit the keep, I’ll have ye both on me arms and I’ll be the most envied man at Four Crosses.”

  Amaline was still fussing with the stabbing pins in her scalp as she followed Jamison and Havilland from the chamber. Jamison preceded them down the stairs that led to the entry level of the keep. Sunlight streamed in from the open door and from a pair of ventilation windows high over the entry, illuminating the entryway with soft white light. As Jamison came off of the bottom step into the entry, holding out a hand to help Havilland down as she cautiously held her skirts up to her knees, she finally came off the steps and clutched his hand, looking at him rather strangely.

  “Where are you taking us?” she asked.

  “Ye’ll see,” he said coyly.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Something seems very strange with you.”

  He simply grinned at her and opened the door.

  Stepping out onto the top of the stairs that led down into the bailey, Havilland and Amaline were faced with Thad and Tobias, down in the bailey before them, both of them dressed to the hilt in armor and weapons. They were dressed for battle. A group of soldiers stood around them, forming a circle, and Havilland was immediately concerned that something terrible was taking place. That is, until Tobias saw the ladies emerge from the keep. Both he and Thad turned to them, bowing deeply.

  “Lady Havilland,” Tobias said loudly, “and Lady Amaline. We have prepared for you this day an amazing spectacle of games and mock battles. You ladies shall preside over the games as our queens. The first contest will be me against my foolish cousin to see who will have the honor of bearing Lady Amaline’s favor for the remainder of the games. Be prepared to be amazed by my skill as I beat my cousin into the ground.”

  Havilland and Amaline were greatly awed and greatly confused. They had no idea what was going on. A festival? Here? When they turned to Jamison for clarification, he could see a thousand questions in their eyes. His gaze was gentle upon Havilland as he spoke.

  “Ye couldna travel tae Alis de Lara’s festival,” he said simply. “We thought tae bring the festival tae ye.”

  Havilland’s eyes widened. “Bring it to me?” she gasped, looking at Thad and Tobias again as they collected their weapons in preparation for the fight. “You… you did…?”

  She couldn’t even finish her sentence, completely overwhelmed by what she was seeing. Jamison took her hand, gently, and tucked it into his elbow.

  “Today, we bring some joy and adventure tae Four Crosses,” he said quietly. “Havi, I know it has been a terrible few days for ye. Hell, ’tis been a terrible few years. Yesterday, when you asked tae attend Alis de Lara’s party, I’d never seen ye so excited. Ye’ve lived such a plain and brutal life that any mention of something beautiful and frivolous had ye glowing. But Madeline’s imprisonment and the truth of yer father’s condition took that joy out of ye. I couldna stand tae see that happen. Ye may think this is in poor taste because of Madeline being in the vault, or because of the situation in general, but for one day I didna think it was too much tae ask tae try and bring happiness into yer heart again. It’s only for a day, love. For one day, I want ye tae pretend there is no sorrow in yer life and no uncertainty. For today, pretend there is nothin’ but joy. That is what I want tae bring tae ye.”

  Havilland stared at him and he could see the emotions running through her head. Her wide-eyed gaze told him everything – the shock, the disbelief, and the thrill. She was overwhelmed. As he watched, her eyes grew misty and she began to blink rapidly as if to stave off the tears that threatened. She looked out over the bailey where she could see that a few other things were going on as well. There seemed to be something that looked like a fenced-off arena over by the troop house and men were milling about, still working on things. After a moment, she shook her head in wonder.

  “You did all of this for me?” she whispered.

  Jamison nodded faintly. “All for ye.”

  Havilland was genuinely speechless and struggling not to tear up. “No one has ever done anything for me,” she said hoarsely. “Certainly never anythi
ng like this. A… real festival?”

  “Better than any festival Alis de Lara would put on,” he said arrogantly. But she seemed so taken aback by the entire thing that he was worried he might have offended her. “I am sorry if ye think this is in poor taste because of current circumstances, but….”

  She cut him off, shaking her head. “Nay,” she said quickly. “’Tis not that at all. ’Tis simply that… that I have never even attended a festival before. I have never had anyone be so kind to me like this. I do not know what to say to you except that I am deeply touched that you would go to the trouble.”

  He patted the hand clutching his elbow. “’Twas no trouble at all,” he assured her. “This is as much for the men as it ’tis for ye. They need something tae boost their morale, also. Months of fighting can take its toll. If men are tae keep up the fight, sometimes they need some happiness and hope tae help them along.”

  It made perfect sense to Havilland, who clutched his elbow tightly as Tobias and Thad launched a vicious attack against each other. Sparks flew and men grunted as an exciting battle ensured in the bailey, right at the feet of Havilland and Amaline. They were the queens, watching men battle on their favor.

  It was a welcome battle, indeed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  *

  “I do not believe you….”

  *

  Unfortunately, things did not go well for Tobias.

  Thad, an excellent knight in his own right, pulled a few tricks on his cousin in the midst of their combat that sent Tobias to the ground, enough so that Thad was able to pin him and be declared the victor by a host of gleeful soldiers. Therefore, it was Thad who had the privilege of carrying Amaline’s favor, which turned out to be a hairpin because she had nothing else to give him.

  Securing the iron pin on the collar of the linen tunic beneath his armor, Thad victoriously escorted Amaline over to the makeshift arena they had built over by the troop house, leaving Jamison to escort Havilland and Tobias to nurse his wounded pride. Certainly, it hadn’t been the glorious victory Tobias had expected.