Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Sloan de la Roarke gazed steadily at the king. Having arrived at Westminster that afternoon from his trip to Herefordshire, he was shocked to realize that his carefully conceived plan had already gone awry. But in his opinion, John was fully to blame. Had he been able to control his lust, none of this would have happened.

  Still, the reasons and motivations were water under the bridge. At this moment, however, in the face of an angry king, Sloan knew that salvaging his scheme would not be an easy thing.

  “Highness, had you not seen fit to try to take advantage of this woman, this situation would not have happened,” he said evenly. “She had only been here less than a day and already you were demanding her company. Could you not have given the circumstance a minimal amount of time before demanding your royal rights?”

  John was outraged. “How dare you chastise me, Sloan.”

  Sloan nodded patiently. “’Twas not my intention to chastise you, but considering the delicate nature of the situation, you could have sated your lust with someone else, at least for the evening. Now everything is in shambles because of your… eagerness.”

  John’s face turned red. Sloan knew that if he grew mad enough, he’d soon be throwing fits on the rushes. In a sick, perverse way, Sloan hoped to see the king do just that. It meant that John had lost control and Sloan took pleasure in that loss.

  “You take your life in your hands when you speak to me in such a manner,” John said after a moment. “I will not hear you question my motives or place blame with me.”

  Sloan bowed his head submissively. “Forgive me, Highness, but I feel that I am only stating the obvious. And even though the circumstances are chaotic at best, still, I hold the belief that all is not lost.”

  “Aye, it is,” John growled. “The earl has pleaded for his wife’s life but nothing more. He does not want her back. She has outlived her usefulness and I am forced to take more drastic measures.”

  Sloan cocked an eyebrow. “Drastic, Highness? What do you mean?”

  John refused to look at him, examining his hands instead. “The objective of your scheme is to rid me of Preston de Lacy, is it not?”

  “Indeed.”

  The king smiled thinly, still staring at his hands. “Lady Barklestone has completed one very powerful objective, though not the one we had anticipated.”

  “And what is that?”

  The king looked up from his hands. “She managed to cause Cullen de Nerra to forsake his oath to Preston.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Hamilton has told me that is what de Lacy believes. According to the earl, his new wife has placed some sort of spell on de Nerra and the man has gone berserk. I saw it myself when he burst into my solar with the look of a wild man. And, of course, the fact that he has threatened my life and assaulted Barric means that he is an enemy of the crown and therefore a wanted man. I have complete control over the life and destiny of Cullen de Nerra; it’s out of de Lacy’s hands completely.” His thin smile broadened. “Lady Barklestone has unwittingly managed to separate the earl and his champion. Already, she has accomplished a great deal.”

  Sloan was silent a moment. He didn’t like the fact that his plan had only been moderately successful. As a double agent, he served both the rebellion and the king, feeding information to both sides, and gleaning the rewards as they came. It was a risky life, but worth it, in his opinion.

  Ultimately, Sloan was really loyal only to himself and whoever could do the most for him at the moment. But he could see that his plan involving John and Preston de Lacy was in danger of fragmenting and his mind raced as he thought of a way to salvage the situation. Surely there was something more he could do to prove himself the king’s most worthy, clever vassal.

  “For that, I am pleased,” he finally said. Then, with hesitation, he added, “What did you mean when you said you are forced to resort to drastic measures?”

  John’s smile faded. “Why, eliminate the earl, of course.”

  “Eliminate?” Sloan repeated with surprise. “How?”

  “Hamilton is at his side, is he not?” John explained. “I promised the man a great reward to obliterate my enemy. And so is Sudeley, who was surprisingly easy to please. Both knights have close access to Preston and when he is gone, I shall finally have control of his substantial wealth, manpower and lands.”

  Sloan’s heart sank. Perhaps he could not salvage the situation to his advantage after all. Hamilton was another vassal of the king, serving de Lacy and pretending to be loyal to the man. That damned knight was about to get Sloan’s glory.

  “Then mayhap you should spare his wife,” Sloan said. “With the earl gone, she shall be the rightful heiress to Quellargate.”

  John snorted. “She’s a criminal. By that, she forfeits all rights to the earldom.” His attention returned to his hands and he regarded his dirty nails. “I have been thinking about her. Even before Preston’s plea for her life, I was thinking on sparing her. She’s far too beautiful to execute, you know.”

  “True.”

  “I will not give her back to Preston, but she would make a fine reward to the right man.”

  Sloan visibly perked. “And who would that right man be, Highness?”

  John’s gaze flicked to him, sharply. “Barric.”

  Sloan was shocked. “Fitz Hammond? But I thought you said he was…”

  John stood up from his fine chair. “I said that de Nerra had gored him. I did not say he was dead. He is, in fact, very much alive although terribly injured. The physic who is attending him is a man of great skill named Chadwick. Barring infection, he shall survive. And I suspect it would help his recovery tremendously to have the lovely Lady Barklestone at his side as compensation for his suffering.”

  Sloan’s disappointment was obvious. “Barric?” he repeated. “Surely, Highness, he cannot handle such a fine and strong woman.”

  John could see Sloan’s frustration and he drew pleasure from it. He and Sloan loved to play games with each other, seeing who could make the other more miserable. He knew the man’s loyalty was to the highest bidder, and he played both sides of the coin, but he’d gotten use out of Sloan in the past, at least enough to keep him around. Still… it was great fun to see his disappointment.

  “Most certainly Barric can handle her, when he is feeling better. Moreover, having the woman as his companion will be his ultimate revenge on de Nerra.” He waved a hand at Sloan, gesturing him toward the door. “You shall accompany Barric and Lady Barklestone to Barric’s estate in Rockingham once he has recovered enough to travel. And, Sloan?”

  “Aye, Highness?”

  “Do not touch the woman. Do you understand me?”

  Sloan’s jaw ticked. “Aye, Highness.”

  John continued to smile as he drew himself a chalice of wine, drinking deeply and congratulating himself that all was not lost in the battle against Preston de Lacy. With de Nerra gone, things were looking rather well.

  “Go, now,” he told Sloan. “Be prepared to leave north when Barric is fit to travel. I am sure the man will want to return home to Rockingham Castle to recover and you will go with him. Meanwhile, I will send word to Preston that I shall show his wife mercy. But he will not get the woman back.”

  “I cannot imagine the church will be too happy that you have stolen another man’s wife.”

  John lifted an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think I care what they think?” he asked. “Moreover, she is a prisoner. And I can do what I want with a prisoner, no matter what the church dictates or what Preston says. If the man will not let me take his life, I will take his wife instead.”

  “Indeed, Highness.”

  “Leave me,” John said, flicking his wrist. “And send de Lara to me. He should be out in the corridor, somewhere. Send me my Shadow Lord. I have need of him.”

  There was nothing more to say at that point. As Sloan departed the apartments and came across Sean de Lara, one of the king’s terrifying bodyguards, thoughts of copious amounts
of drink filled his head. He was going to have to drown his sorrows to get over such bitter disappointment in a failed plan.

  Failure in more ways than one.

  As Sloan found solace in pitchers of red wine, John sent a message to Preston de Lacy at Rodstone House, informing the man that although his wife’s life would be spared, she was now a prisoner of the crown and would be for the foreseeable future.

  That night, John drank a toast to a humiliation dealt to the Earl of Barklestone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  She could hear the night birds singing.

  Sitting in the corner of a dim, dusty chamber with no more than a tiny cot and a chair to fill it, Teodora lifted her head as she listened to the sounds of night beyond the small lancet window. It was a room near the river, for she could feel the moisture in the air, and she’d been dragged here by a very big, very angry knight she didn’t recognize and several soldiers, all of whom seemed to have a hand in either slapping her or grabbing at her as she’d fought them.

  It had been a fight the entire way because she was quite certain they were dragging her to her death and she wasn’t going to make an easy target. Instead, she ended up in a tiny chamber with only the sounds of the night outside the window as company. Cullen was gone, Preston was nowhere to be found, and she was facing an uncertain future.

  Now, she was the king’s prisoner.

  But she wouldn’t have done anything differently if given the chance. As she saw it, the events that night had given her very little choice in the matter. Certainly, she could have submitted to John’s sexual advance and she probably would be back at the feast even now, safe but humiliated. Instead, she’d fought furiously, giving Cullen enough time to find her and break the door down, resulting in the death of Barric and the humiliation of the king. Now, Cullen had a price on his head.

  Teodora seriously wondered if her refusal to submit to the king had been worth it.

  She was beginning to second-guess everything.

  But mostly, she was worried about Cullen. The last she saw him, he’d been standing below a window waiting for her to jump. When she was grabbed from the window, she had no idea what had happened to him and her mind was filled with turmoil and fear for his safety. For all she knew, he’d been captured, too. Maybe he was dead at this very moment.

  Anxiety consumed her.

  The chamber door rattled, startling her from her thoughts. She sat in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest, looking at the door with trepidation as an exterior bolt was thrown. The panel lurched open and in stepped a very big knight, the one who had prevented her from jumping from the window and into Cullen’s arms.

  She recognized him.

  Their eyes met and they regarded each other a moment in the moonlit darkness. The man was clad in mail and a royal tunic. His close-cropped hair and square-jawed appearance gave him quite an intimidating aura.

  He was a man built for death.

  “Lady Barklestone,” the knight said, speaking with an impossibly deep voice. “My name is de Lara. I have been sent by the king.”

  The anxiety in Teodora turned into something else. Cornered, an odd sense of resignation filled her and she leaned back against the wall as she looked up at him.

  “And how am I to meet my end, de Lara?” she asked. “Will you behead me? I hope your blade is sharp. I am willing to accept my punishment, but I should like not to suffer too much.”

  He shook his head. “You are not to be executed, my lady.”

  Her eyes widened, just a little. It was clear that she was surprised by that news. “I am not?” she asked. “But… the king and Fitz Hammond… I do not understand. How am I to be punished?”

  De Lara braced his legs apart, folding his enormous arms across his chest. “Then you do acknowledge that your behavior invites punishment.”

  Teodora struggled with her reply and the plethora of denials his statement brought up. “My behavior?” she said, incensed. “I was minding my own business in the great hall when I was taken to a chamber where a half-naked man and his friend assaulted me. And I am not allowed to fight back?”

  De Lara’s eyebrows lifted. “That half-naked man was your king.”

  “He attacked me!”

  “He was exercising his royal right. Clearly, that is a foreign concept to you.”

  Teodora was starting to grow angry. “So he can simply attack any woman he chooses?”

  De Lara regarded her in the moonlight. “You have not been in London long, have you?”

  Teodora shook her head at the ridiculous question and equally ridiculous answer. “I have been here a day,” she muttered, looking away. “I arrived today. I was excited to attend my first royal feast and see what that excitement has brought me.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Where are you from?”

  “Herefordshire.”

  “And you’ve not spent much time in London? Or around court?”

  “I’ve not spent any time in London or around court.”

  “Then you do not know that the king has an eye for a beautiful woman.”

  Teodora was about to deny such knowledge but Regal’s words suddenly came back to her. You are in a dangerous place now. As beautiful as it may be, it is deadly. You must remain safe, behind locked doors, and do not wander out. Most importantly, if the king is in residence here, stay away from him.

  Now, she was coming to understand what her grandmother had been trying to warn her about. She wished she had paid more attention.

  “I suppose I did hear such a thing,” she admitted, feeling stupid. “But it never occurred to me that the king would single me out. There are so many other beautiful women at the feast. Why me?”

  “Because you are Preston de Lacy’s wife,” de Lara said quietly. “The king and your husband are not allies, my lady. That made you more vulnerable than most.”

  Teodora remembered Cullen saying virtually the same thing, but it still frustrated her. “So I was a target? Is that what you are saying?”

  De Lara shrugged. “The king would have probably singled you out no matter whose wife or daughter you were,” he said. “You are tall and beautiful. That kind of beauty is rare. But you fought back when you were not supposed to, giving the king a reason to imprison you and separate you from your husband. Now, de Lacy is humiliated because the king holds his wife, and your husband’s knight, after sticking a sword through Fitz Hammond, is on the run.”

  Teodora didn’t dare show any interest in any news about Cullen. As much as she wanted to ask about him, she refrained. She didn’t want to give de Lara any information about him, fearful that it would be used against Cullen somehow. She turned her head away.

  “He was doing his duty,” she muttered. “He was protecting me.”

  But de Lara shook his head slowly. “Any knight serving any lord under the rule of John knows that when the king takes a lady to his bed, no matter who she is, that it is his royal privilege to do so,” he said. “What your husband’s knight did went beyond mere loyalty. ’Twas he who created this situation more than you did.”

  Teodora wasn’t sure what to say to that. She didn’t want to incriminate Cullen more than he already was, but she couldn’t help herself from leaping to his defense. “That is not fair,” she said. “He was only doing his duty.”

  “It was more than that.”

  “Is he dead, then? Did you capture him and punish him?”

  “He’s not been located.”

  Relief of epic proportions washed over Teodora but she endeavored not to show it. Still, she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips as she struggled to stave off a flood of happy tears.

  “But you do have me,” she said, clearing her throat softly, pretending she had some composure. “What do you intend to do with me now?”

  She could hear de Lara’s joints pop as he shifted his big legs, the sound of his movements filling the oppressive silence of the chamber.

  “You will not be returned to your husband,�
� he said. “You will be traveling north to Rockingham Castle and I will be accompanying you.”

  She turned to look at him in surprise. “Rockingham Castle?” she said. “Why am I going there?”

  “It belongs to Barric Fitz Hammond,” she said. “Your husband’s knight ran him through, but he is still alive. It is the king’s wish that, should he survive, you become his prize. You shall travel north with him and become his companion and tend to his every need. That, my lady, is your punishment. You will spend the rest of your life catering to the man your husband’s knight tried to kill.”

  Teodora looked at him in horror. “His prize?”

  De Lara nodded. “Given the circumstances, you should consider yourself extremely fortunate,” he said. “Women have been executed for lesser crimes than you have committed. As least the king is allowing you to do penitence.”

  More horror was flooding Teodora as the full impact of her future hit her head-on. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the big knight, looking at his face for any hint that there might be more to this or, better still, it was some manner of joke. But there was no humor on his face, only grim seriousness. Teodora closed her eyes and looked away.

  “My God,” she breathed. “Tell me this is not true. Tell me I am not to become his slave.”

  De Lara was without emotion. “It is the price you pay for resisting the king,” he said simply. His gaze lingered on her a moment before he continued. “My lady, if you want my advice, then I suggest you behave yourself and do what you are told. This is a man’s world and your resistance will only bring you grief. The more you fight, the more the king will twist the ropes that bind you. But an obedient woman is watched less. You will earn a measure of trust if you simply acquiesce. Do you understand me?”

  There was a message in what he was saying but Teodora was so upset that she was struggling to grasp it. She turned to look at him.

  “Acquiesce?” she repeated. “You mean surrender.”