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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Gentlemen,” he said, thinking he sounded a bit drunk. “We have a problem on our hands.”

  Bradford and Anthony looked at him, puzzled and concerned. Owen spoke. “What would that be?”

  Chadwick scratched his head, pulling his cloak more tightly about him. It was freezing and he was cold in spite of the alcohol flowing through his veins.

  “Cullen cannot travel and Teodora has vowed never to leave him.” He looked at Bradford. “We must return to Rockingham for your granddaughter immediately.”

  Bradford heartily agreed. “A very wise suggestion, my lord physic. The sooner the three of them are united, the better.”

  Chadwick shook his head. “It’s more than that, my lord. That child simply isn’t safe around the Lord Justice and the king.”

  “I know.” Bradford didn’t like to think about his granddaughter, alone, at Rockingham, but under the circumstances, they could not have brought her out into this uncertain situation. “I shall retrieve her myself. Surely neither the king nor Barric will deny a grandfather his right to his granddaughter. The man has too few allies to anger me so.”

  He was already on his feet, already marching off. Apparently, he would waste no time, and Chadwick knew he should follow. “I had better go, just in case,” he told Owen. “We have no idea of the current situation and he may need my help. I can do no more for Cullen at the moment, so watch him closely for signs of fever. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  Anthony was the last to trail after them; he would not let Bradford go alone. Owen watched the men fade into the darkness, their determination and strength to save one small baby. Though Cullen and Teodora had been torn apart by men seeking to do them harm, it was apparent that there were many more willing to do everything in their power to keep them together.

  Shaking his head as the events of the day rolled over in his mind, Owen turned back to the fire and collected the nearly empty jug. The parable of Monty and his wife would be a fine story to tell around the campfire, over and over again, until it passed into myth. Monty, the Champion of Thieves, and his woman returning from the dead held all the ingredients of a fine legend. But the ending wasn’t written yet, and until Lady Holly joined her parents, Owen could only pray for a happy conclusion to this fairy tale.

  Rockingham Castle

  The evening was growing late, but Sloan thought to hide the child in the stables.

  It would be warm, dry and safe. Surely no one would think to look for the babe there. Moreover, transportation would be close by should the need arise to leave immediately. He logically believed he could deposit the child in a dry pile of hay to hide her for a few minutes while he returned for the Norma and Willa. The last he saw them, they were still in Lady Barklestone’s chambers, panicking over the missing baby. After he’d reunited the maids with the infant, he was determined to find Teodora and tell her what had happened.

  The woman was still missing.

  He tried not to feel great concern over the fact that Lady Barklestone disappeared yesterday and had yet to return. He knew that Barric and John didn’t have anything to do with it because they, too, were waiting for her to return.

  Staying to the shielding darkness of the shadows, Sloan slipped from the great keep of Rockingham and made his way to the stables to the north. His breathing was coming in harsh grunts from running; he felt like a hunted animal. The weather had turned threatening and there were few people out at this time of night as he stumbled through the rancid mud.

  Finally reaching the livery, it was stale and warm inside, and he frantically searched for a place to conceal the baby. She was sleeping now, as peacefully as a kitten, and he was grateful; the child howled like a banshee when aroused.

  But she was content for the moment. Sloan made his way to the end of a block of stables where a large pile of straw lay against a great stone wall. Considering it was winter, the stable hands had gone to great lengths to preserve the feed stores and the hay was carefully covered by an oiled tarpaulin. Sloan quickly tossed up one end of the tarp, mumbling to himself.

  “Let’s see,” he muttered. “Where would be the very best place, Lady Holly? Deep inside, or near the top? Uncle Sloan will decide what is best for you.”

  The baby slept through his prattle. He dug about, hollowing out a little burrow. The work was slow because he could only work with one hand since the other clutched the sleeping child. He continued to mutter to himself, ducking low a few times to avoid a working stable hand.

  Once, he thought he heard footsteps and the grating sounds of mail, but he saw nothing and cursed himself for an overactive imagination. Finally, he was about to place the child inside the hole he had carved out when he was suddenly whacked from behind. Something hard and solid landed across the back of his skull and he pitched face-first into the hay.

  Sean stood behind him, a small log in his hand and a look of disgust upon his face. He clucked his tongue softly, shaking his head as he tossed the log aside. Rolling Sloan off of the child, who was beneath him yet cushioned from the weight by the straw, he scooped her into his arms.

  Looking at the tiny little face, Sean knew he was at a crossroads, and that meant taking the child back to Barric and the king.

  Unfortunately, Sean had a massive stake in the situation, something that he couldn’t jeopardize over an infant. Much as Cullen had jeopardized his entire career by falling in love with Preston de Lacy’s wife, one slip in an otherwise flawless mission to spy on the king would put Sean into the same category as Cullen. Perhaps he hadn’t fallen in love with the queen, but it didn’t matter – any hint of disloyalty, even over something as small as Lady Barklestone’s child, would be planted in the king’s mind and Sean’s entire position would be jeopardized. Years of work would be ruined.

  He hated himself for it, but he simply couldn’t risk it.

  Cullen was his friend, and even the annoying Lady Barklestone had become something of a friend, but he couldn’t risk everything he’d worked so hard for. He’d already pushed it to the limit by going to the outlaw camp and bringing Chadwick to tend Cullen’s wounds. But for the sake of his position with John, he could do no more.

  He could only pray they understood.

  “Come along, my lady,” he said to the sweet little child. “The king would like to meet you.”

  He fled.

  The Outlaw Encampment

  “Why don’t you sleep, sweetheart?” Regal’s voice was soft but firm. “You can do no more for him. He’s sleeping soundly. Sleep yourself while you can.”

  Still wrapped in Cullen’s arms, Teodora shook her head. She gazed at Cullen, tenderly stroking his dirty hair. “I cannot,” she whispered. “I am afraid that if I sleep, I shall wake up and he will be gone.”

  Regal’s gnarled old hand touched her granddaughter. “He’s not going to die now,” she said. “The physic told you that he’d managed to stitch him up and that the damage will heal. Now, Cullen has everything to live for. He is very strong; you must trust him.”

  Teodora tore her gaze away from Cullen, looking up at her grandmother. She smiled, though the old woman couldn’t see her. “You’ve spent more time with him over the past several months than I ever have,” she said. “I suppose you know him better than I do.”

  Regal grinned. “I know he is very much like you. Stubborn, strong and determined. Is that such a terrible thing?”

  “Nay,” Teodora murmured, turning back to Cullen. He was so terribly pale, his breathing slow but steady. Her smile faded. “Do you truly believe he’ll live, Grandmere? Do not lie to me.”

  “Without a doubt, he shall live.”

  Teodora believed her. It was more than simply wanting to believe her; Regal was wise and knowledgeable. She trusted the old woman’s instincts and knew, in spite of her request, that her grandmother would never lie to her. Not even to spare her feelings. Her mind began to wander to the day she and Cullen were separated and the myriad of circumstances surrounding it, including the old woman she ha
d been helpless to aid.

  “Grandmere,” she began softly. “I am sorry I’ve been so focused on Cullen that I’ve not truly expressed my joy at seeing you again. Please do not think that you were not on my mind a great deal.”

  The old woman shushed her. “Sweetheart, you do not have to tell me of your gladness. I can feel it in your presence more than any words can tell me. I am not so spoiled that I need your constant attention. I know you have more pressing things on your mind.”

  There were tears in Teodora’s eyes when she looked up at her grandmother again. “More pressing, but not more important,” she whispered. “I also want you to know how sorry I am that all of this has happened. I’ve always felt such guilt that you were left behind in the madness of my arrest, but…”

  Regal’s eyebrows rose. “How could you? Your own life was in the balance and you found yourself at the mercy of the evil king. You had enough worries for yourself.” She shook her head slowly. “I may be an old woman, Teddy, but I am not stupid. I am resourceful and cunning. Had Cullen not come to remove me from Rodstone House before Preston could take his anger out on me, I would have certainly found a way to escape him myself. You need not torture yourself for not helping me. There was no way you could have, sweetheart. And I did not expect you to.”

  “But I could have tried. I tried to ask about you, and I tried to send someone to find out what had become of you, but no one would help me. I was a prisoner.”

  “Someone did help me,” Regal said firmly. “Cullen knew your concerns without you having to speak them. That is why he came for me.”

  She was right; so very right. The guilt Teodora felt for her inactivity fled and Teodora clasped her grandmother’s hand, kissing the tissue-paper flesh. “I do love you, Grandmere. I am so glad that you are well.”

  Regal squeezed her hand tightly. “Everything will be fine now. Wait and see, sweetheart. Everything will be fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  The women fell silent, listening to Cullen’s rhythmic breathing. Teodora kissed his forehead tenderly; he wasn’t warm with fever and she felt such comfort in that. Kissing him again, she carefully unwound herself from his arms.

  “Father and Anthony must be wondering what is happening,” she whispered, rising slowly as not to disturb Cullen. “I shall go and tell them.”

  Regal nodded. “Stretch your legs, then, if you are not going to sleep. And get some food.”

  “I am not hungry,” Teodora said, adjusting a slipper that had come loose.

  “Then have some wine to celebrate.”

  “Not until Cullen can celebrate with me.”

  Regal snickered and shook her head. “Then go tell your father that Cullen will live. I shall watch over him.”

  “I shall be right back.”

  “Do not hurry. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Teodora’s hand brushed her grandmother as she quit the hut. In truth she was stiff and sore and desperately needed to relieve herself. She planned to take care of her needs quickly and return to Cullen’s side. She didn’t want to spend one more moment away from him than necessary.

  There was a large fire burning near the center of the camp. It was cold and she didn’t have a cloak to protect her. Arms wrapped around slender frame, she made her way toward the brightly burning fire. But she didn’t see her father’s familiar form, nor Anthony’s, and she looked to the outlaw king who seemed to be the sole occupant of the campfire.

  “Greetings, my lord,” she said.

  Owen stood up when she greeted him, his gaze fixing on a most beautiful woman. No wonder Cullen had been so miserable for her. He smiled and gallantly bowed.

  “My lady,” he said formally. “And how is your husband faring?”

  Addressing her as Cullen’s wife was puzzling, but she was also very pleased and had not the inclination to correct him. It was the most natural thing in the world. He was warm and friendly, and she was coming to like him – even if she had spent months chasing the man around.

  “He is holding his own,” she said. “He sleeps now.”

  “That is good.”

  Teodora was eyeing him, a glimmer to her eyes. “May I speak, my lord?”

  “Of course you may.”

  “I truly did not know what I expected to see when I finally met you. Owen the Black has a great and dastardly reputation.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Have I disappointed, then?”

  She laughed softly, revealing her beautiful straight teeth. “Not at all, my lord. But as I said, I expected to find a man ten feet tall. Or, a man with a forked tail.”

  He pretended to look at his backside. “No forked tail,” he said. “But I am sure my wife would disagree.”

  Teodora grinned at his humor. “Most wives know the naughty little boy in their husbands, I suppose.”

  “I cannot believe that any part of Monty is a naughty little boy.”

  She smiled. “And that is something else,” she said. “His name is not Monty. It is Cullen. Cullen de Nerra.”

  Owen had heard that, in truth. He’d heard the men from Rockingham address his Monty as Cullen. “I know,” he said. “But he made a point of not telling me his real name, so until he gives me permission to use it, he will still be Monty to me.”

  “I understand,” Teodora said. Then she glanced around. “Have you seen my father, perchance? I wish to tell him of Cullen’s condition.”

  “Your father and his knight and the physic left some time ago for Rockingham.”

  Teodora’s smile vanished. “Rockingham? Why?”

  “To retrieve your child, I believe.”

  Teodora looked scared and worried. Glancing over her shoulder in the direction of Rockingham, Teodora’s mind whirled with the wild possibilities of such a venture. Then she growled in frustration, wishing they had not gone without her. Holly was her precious babe, after all, and she was as protective of the child as a lioness. She knew the baby was safe for the moment with Norma and Willa, fed by the big-busted wet nurse, but clumsy men could not properly handle her tiny child, no matter how careful they would be.

  Teodora was torn between wanting to stay with Cullen and wanting to personally retrieve her daughter. Her father and Anthony were competent knights, and Chadwick was more than skilled. Cullen was her lover, the most important thing in her life, but Holly was her flesh and blood and she knew, as she lived and breathed, that the time had come to retrieve her daughter. Cullen would understand. Were he able at this moment, he would get Holly himself. He wouldn’t trust something as important as his own child to the skills of others, no matter how capable they were.

  Owen watched Teodora dash back in the direction of Cullen’s hut. Puzzled, he followed her. Lingering outside of the small shelter, he could hear her conversing with the old woman inside. Regal was quite adamant about something, raising her voice until Teodora loudly shushed her. Then it was silent. Teodora finally burst from the hut, so hurriedly that Owen had to jump out of her way. Her pretty cheeks were flushed as she fixed on him.

  “A horse, my lord, and quickly if you please.”

  She was very adept at giving orders. It seemed to come naturally to her. Owen politely acquiesced and shouted for someone to bring around his own personal mount. In the ensuing silence as his command was carried out, he eyed her with concerned.

  “My lady is traveling somewhere?” he asked.

  She nodded sharply. “I am going after my father.”

  “Your father? But why?”

  “Because I must go with him to retrieve my child. I cannot…” She struggled to find the correct words, but everything she could think of at the moment sounded foolish except for the pure, basic instinct of motherly protection. “I must go and you will not stop me. Do you understand?”

  Owen could hear the desperation in her voice. “I would not dream of stopping you, my lady. But you cannot go alone.”

  “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I am sure you are. Is y
our husband awake and aware of your intentions?”

  “He is not.”

  “I see.” Owen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “My lady, your husband would never forgive me if something happened to you. Would you please permit me to escort you?”

  She snorted. “Owen the Black? I should say not. If you are discovered in my company, they will kill you, not to mention that I shall never get my daughter back. The Lord Justice will throw us both in the vault and bury the key.”

  He could see her point. “Understood. Would you allow someone else to accompany you, then? Someone who knows these woods well and would make an excellent partner in a skirmish.”

  “Skirmish?”

  “Should it come to that, my lady. You never know who you might come across.”

  Teodora chewed her lip in thought. Perhaps his suggestion wasn’t presumptuous. She was still weak from childbirth and the thought of defending herself in a confrontation was frightening. She had Holly to think of now, and somehow her own life seemed more precious because of it.

  She had to live for her daughter.

  “Very well,” she said after a moment. “Select someone. But quickly; I intend to leave immediately if I am to catch up with my father.”

  “Wait here, then. I have the perfect person in mind.”

  Less than a minute later, Dessa and Teodora were staring at each other.

  Rockingham Castle

  It was fortunate that Holly had healthy lungs.

  She screamed and screamed until Sean was nearly driven mad. Carrying her across the muddy bailey had attracted attention from the soldiers high on the battlements as well as the hundreds of soldiers milling about the courtyard. With the gatehouse open, the mercenaries had spilled in, and they were all looking at him rather curiously. One man, a great burly Northman who was part of the king’s mercenary force, wanted to know if the baby was to be sacrificed to ensure victory against those who opposed the king.

  Sean was a fighting man to the core, and a decorated knight, and he looked upon the rabble in the bailey with disgust, including the Northman. They were men with a lust for money and blood, and he frankly wanted no part of them. But they were a part of this messy situation he found himself involved in, so he did nothing more than ignore the man who had made the crass comment. Had it been at any other time in any other situation, he might have cut out his tongue.