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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I am sorry if I seem unappreciative,” she replied softly. “I have simply never known anything else but hard work. I feel quite useless sitting around while you hire an army to work on my fortress. I do not want others to think I am taking advantage of your generosity.”

  “What others?”

  She shrugged. “These people are from Levens. They will talk and tell tale of the Lady of Erith sitting idle while an army of mercenaries repairs her keep. Soon all of Cumbria will hear such things.”

  “Soon all of Cumbria will know that the repair of the fortress was my wedding gift to you,” he patted her hand gently; though he desperately wanted to kiss it, he would make no such move. He did not want those who might witness such a thing to believe the lady compromised. “Worry not what others think, madam. You and I know the truth.”

  She gazed up at him, studying the lines of his handsome face. She hadn’t known the man a week and already she felt more comfortable with him than she had with anyone, ever.

  “I suppose we do,” she agreed softly. She saw the same look in his eyes that she had seen when he had kissed her and, not wanting to make a spectacle for all to see, she backed away. “I shall go now and help the women with my clothes. They’re nearly done, you know.”

  He was reluctant to release her hand. “We shall go into Milnthorpe tomorrow to obtain more fabric. Between you, your mother and your daughter, the fabric is gone.”

  “We do not need more fabric,” she insisted. “What you have provided us is more than generous. We are very grateful.”

  He winked at her. “You must have a new garment for every day of the week. And I think I shall purchase some jewels for you as well.”

  Gray just stared at him. “Jewels? What on earth would I do with them?’

  “Wear them.”

  He kissed her hand then, swiftly, hoping that no one would see. It was a sweet and tender moment, however brief. But he was distracted by someone was calling his name from the direction of the front gates and he turned to see Dallas approach. He discreetly let go of Gray’s hand as Dallas walked up.

  “My lady,” the knight bowed to Gray before focusing on Braxton. “There is a small party approaching from the south, my lord. Shall we send out riders?’

  “Indeed,” Braxton nodded. “Are their banners evident?”

  Dallas shook his head. “They are still too far out.”

  “Then make haste to identify them. How much time until they are upon us?”

  “Less than a half hour, my lord.”

  “Then be gone.”

  Dallas excused himself and was gone. Gray tucked strands of blowing hair behind her ear, her expression one of concern.

  “What does that mean?” she asked. “Who would be coming to Erith?”

  Braxton had many different theories at that moment, most of which he would not verbalize. He remembered Brooke’s words to him the day he met her, how her Grandmother had sent invitation to various Houses to vie for the girl’s hand. He didn’t know what that particular thought popped into his head at the moment, but it did. He’d very nearly forgotten about it. And, as Brooke had told him, Gray apparently knew nothing about it. He just couldn’t imagine that she did simply from her obvious attitude.

  Though Braxton had seen little of Lady Constance since his arrival, he suspected the time had come for him to better acquaint himself with the self-aggrandizing woman. Though he would love to have Gray all to himself, she came with a daughter whom he was very fond of and a mother he was not. If he was going to declare his intentions to Gray, he would have to declare it to all of them. And part of his declaration would include setting matters straight between himself and the arrogant Lady de Montfort.

  “Do not worry yourself,” he took her by the elbow and turned her in the direction of the keep. “Go to your sewing now and I shall deal with these visitors.”

  “Though I appreciate your offer, I am still the Lady of Erith,” she said, firmly but politely. “This is still my keep, Braxton. I shall greet our visitors.”

  He didn’t want to argue with her, but if the approaching party had something to do with Lady de Montfort’s solicitation, he did not want her to be shocked. The party was less than a half hour off, which gave him little time to figure this out.

  “Then wait in the keep until they are upon us,” he said. “There is no need for you to wait out here in the sun. Come inside and be comfortable.”

  That produced the hoped for result; she walked with him into the keep. Once inside, he left her in the solar with the sewing women and excused himself on a weak pretext. What he really intended to do was find Lady de Montfort. A passing servant told him where to find the woman.

  *

  Braxton figured out where all of the furnishings, beds, linens or other comforts in Erith were kept. Upon entering Lady de Montfort’s chamber on the fourth floor of the keep, it looked like a storage room. There were items everywhere. It was rather a shock considering the sparse furnishings of the rest of Erith. It immediately occurred to him that Lady de Montfort refused to give up anything she believed herself entitled to, no matter what matter of poverty her daughter and granddaughter lived in. Though the stuff lining her chamber was worn, it had once been very fine. She needed her possessions to maintain the illusion that poverty had not yet touched her. It made Braxton dislike the lady all the more.

  Lady de Montfort sat in a chair near the lancet window, a piece of embroidery in her hand. It wasn’t a very nice square of material, old and yellowed, but the work on it was exquisite. Braxton glanced at the piece as the woman laid it in her lap, fighting off building resentment for two reasons; Gray had told him she did not know any leisurely skills, which meant her mother had not seen fit to teach her. Secondly, by the look of the work, it had taken many, many hours to do. This meant that while Gray was blistering her hands with harsh work, her mother was whiling away the hours with dainty hobbies. It was a struggle to keep his rage at bay.

  “Sir Braxton,” Constance greeted him evenly. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  Braxton stood near the door, keeping a rein on his patience. “You and I have something to discuss, my lady.”

  Constance lifted her eyebrows. “I cannot imagine what that is, unless you seek my advice on something. What is your wish?”

  Haughty till the end, he thought. “I do not seek your advice nor counsel, madam. But I believe we may have a situation arising that could or could not be of your doing.”

  “What is that?”

  He shifted on his big legs, folding muscular arms over his chest. “Brooke has told me that you have sent out solicitations for her hand in marriage, unbeknownst to her mother. Is this true?”

  Constance’s thin face tightened. “What business is it of yours?”

  “More than you know. Did you do this?”

  As shrewd as Constance was, Braxton was doubly. But the older woman would not allow herself to be cornered. “This is none of your affair, Sir Braxton. You will kindly leave my chamber.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I am not going anywhere until you answer the question.”

  So he could not be ordered around. Constance rethought her strategy. “If it is?”

  “Then we have a party approaching Erith at this moment who, I suspect, might be coming in response to your offer. If that is the case, your daughter is going to discover the truth.”

  Constance stood up. “Where is my daughter?”

  “In the solar.”

  The woman grabbed her shawl and swung it over her slender shoulders, making way for the door. Braxton waited until she had passed him before speaking.

  “You do not own the rights to Brooke’s hand, my lady.”

  She paused, hand on the door latch. “Your statement is not only rude, it is insolent.”

  His blue-green eyes were hard, like blades of sharpened steel. “Perhaps,” his voice lowered. “But it is the truth. Listen to me now and understand what I am saying. You do not own the rights to B
rooke’s hand. I do. I bought them from a man who had acquired them from Garber Serroux in payment for a gambling debt.”

  He could see from the expression on the woman’s face that she was rattled. She instinctively clutched her shawl more tightly about her.

  “So you are here to claim Brooke?” For the first time, the confidence was out of her tone. “Why did you just not say so?”

  “I am not here to claim Brooke,” Braxton clarified. “But she, and Erith, belongs to me.”

  Constance’s expression turned suspicious. “You have no proof of this.”

  “I have a document signed by Neil Wenvoe that relinquishes his claim to Brooke Serroux and Erith to me for the sum of thirty thousand gold marks. These rights were given to Wenvoe to forgive a debt incurred by Garber Serroux.”

  Constance attempted to maintain her defensive stance. God knows she did. But Braxton watched all of the fight drain out of her, for the very first time since he had met her. When she realized he would not be withered by her stare, she averted her gaze.

  “I see,” she murmured. “Does Gray know any of this?”

  He felt himself relent, if only just a little. “Nay,” he replied. “Though I do mean to tell her.”

  “When?”

  “I am not sure. She is only now learning to trust me. I am afraid that divulging something like this will cause her to think I have had ulterior motives from the beginning.”

  Constance cast him a long glance. “Have you?”

  He shook his head, slowly. “I only acquired these rights three days ago when I went to Wenvoe to fulfill a long-standing contract.” He paused, watching the shift of her fine features. “Wenvoe wanted to hire me to lay siege to Erith and claim the rights that Garber had promised him. It seems that Wenvoe was aware you were soliciting offers the girl’s hand and he felt compelled to press his claim. So I bought the claim from him.”

  Constance’s amber eyes studied him. “Why did you do this?”

  Now it was Braxton’s turn to waver in confidence. “Because I could not lay siege to Gray’s fortress,” he said simply. “In case you have not realized it, I am fond of your daughter, Lady de Montfort. I could not hurt her.”

  “But now you own her daughter and Erith. What will you do?”

  “Give it back to Gray.”

  Constance reclaimed her chair, a defeated look on her face. It seemed that there was nothing left to fight for. “I would see this document you speak of, knight.”

  “You shall.”

  “Then what will you do about the approaching party?”

  “That is your problem. I suggest you tell your daughter immediately what you have done.”

  The older woman’s features tightened again. “It is not simply my problem. You own the rights to Brooke, so in essence, you have the final say in determining who she will marry, not Gray. She will not take this well at all. I would suggest we both go tell her what has happened.”

  He still did not want to tell Gray about the contract from Wenvoe. He felt very strongly that it might ruin the sweet beginnings they were experiencing. But the longer he waited, the harder it would be. With reluctance, he nodded to the older woman’s suggestion.

  Together, they left the chamber in silence to seek out Gray.

  *

  For some reason, Gray was nowhere to be found. The women sewing garments in the solar said she had left some time before but they had no knowledge of where she went. While Constance went to check her bedchamber, Braxton went out into the kitchen yard.

  There were a few men working on the collapse oven, now almost completely rebuilt. Braxton did not see her anywhere in the kitchen area and moved out towards the stables. There were several laborers working to restore a damaged section and also to build an addition. Additionally, they were framing the stable for several more stalls and a loft. Braxton checked the chicken coop and, on a whim, entered the part of the stables that the men were not working on. It was empty.

  He turned to leave and almost ran over Brooke. She was standing behind him, her round face smiling up at him. He reached out to steady her as he bumped into her.

  “My lady,” he said. “My apologies. I did not see you.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I followed you in here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to talk to you.”

  “I see,” he casually stepped away from her, leaning against the nearest post. “What is so important?”

  Brooke took a step towards him, closing the gap he had so carefully established. “Well… it is hard to describe.”

  “What is hard to describe?”

  She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Me. And you.”

  He didn’t particularly like the sound of that. “What about me and you?”

  She took another step, ending up very close to him. “You do not have to pretend any longer. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “See what?”

  “What you feel for me, of course.” She was suddenly pressed against him, her hands on his big arm. “I saw it the first day we met, Braxton. I felt it when you saved my life. Oh, I know you told my grandmother that you had no intention of marrying, but why else would you come back to Erith with gifts? I know it is because you are interested in me.”

  He moved away from the post, trying to put some distance between him and her. “My lady,” he said evenly. “What I told your grandmother is was true. Though I am flattered, I clearly have no intentions towards you.”

  She was following him. “You do not have to pretend any longer, darling. I would be most pleased to call you husband. I am young and strong and can bear you many strong sons.”

  Braxton was backing out of the stable. Brooke threw herself forward, her arms wrapped around his neck like a noose.

  “You must control yourself,” he said sternly, trying to pry her arms off of him. “This is not appropriate behavior for a young woman.”

  “Kiss me,” Brooke begged, making sucking noises with her lips and aiming for his mouth. “Kiss me, my darling. I know you want to.”

  She was strong for a young girl. Braxton was trying to pull her off of him but he didn’t want to hurt her. “Let go, Brooke.”

  “I will not. You want me. Kiss me!”

  Off to his right he heard a strange noise, something that sounded like a gasp. By the time he turned around, Gray was marching up on the two of them with some kind of farm implement in her hand. Braxton’s hands were trying to restrain Brooke and he was unable to defend himself when Gray swung the wooden stick at his head.

  Stars burst before his vision and he fell onto his back, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness. Stunned but not senseless, he rolled to his left, away from the second strike that landed very close to him. He could hear Brooke screaming.

  “Mama!” she shrieked. “No!”

  “You… you beast,” Gray swung the wooden implement one last time, missing him by a wide margin. As Braxton struggled to get to his feet, she wielded the pitchfork like a weapon. “Braxton de Nerra, you are a despicable, horrid creature and I want you out of here. Take your gifts and your food and leave my fortress immediately.”

  His ears were ringing and the world rocked. As his vision cleared, he saw Brooke’s fearful face, Gray’s angry one, and Constance standing just behind her daughter. For some reason, he found himself focused on the old woman. He did not like the expression on her face. But his attention moved back to Gray.

  “My lady,” he said. “You are gravely mistaken if you think…”

  “Stop it,” she hissed at him. “I will hear no more from you. I trusted you and you lied to me.”

  “What?”

  Gray kept the pitchfork between them. “My mother told me what you did.” She was suddenly bordering on tears; he could see it in her face. “How could you do that?”

  He had no idea what she was talking about, but his gaze moved back to Constance. He has a suspicion that whatever Gray was thinking came from her mother. A dar
k wave of realization swept him.

  “What did I do, Gray?” he asked softly. “What are you talking about?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. She looked so very hurt. Behind her, Constance stood cold and silent. Damn the woman; he knew something awful had come from her lips.

  “The contract,” Gray almost whispered. “My mother told me. Do not try to deny it. That is why you went to Wenvoe, to buy my daughter and my castle.”

  “I bought the contract because Wenvoe wanted me to lay siege to Erith to claim both the castle and your daughter. I bought it to spare you. Did you not know that your husband had promised him both Brooke and the fortress in payment for his debt to Wenvoe?”

  “I did,” she said hoarsely. “But Wenvoe promised he had no interest in either. He said he would not hold Brooke or I responsible for Garber’s disgrace.”

  “He had no interest until your mother started sending out invitations to vie for Brooke’s hand.”

  “Do not listen to him, Gray,” Constance entered the conversation. “He has been plotting since the beginning. He owns Brooke, and he owns Erith. He has been sending out solicitations of marriage to sell off your daughter and the castle.”

  So that’s what this was about. The old bitch had turned on him, gaining an upper hand with her lies and deceit. He had underestimated her. Braxton struggled to keep his composure as he faced Constance.

  “That, Lady de Montfort, is a lie. You were the one who sent out the solicitations of marriage, not I.”

  “See how he tries to defend himself?” Constance gripped her daughter’s arm. “He is a mercenary, Gray. All he cares about is money. He bought Erith and Brooke for a price. Now he intends to secure a fine return on his investment by selling them both off. Why do you think he is fixing up the fortress? ’Twill make it much more attractive to a future husband.”

  It was purely amazing how so slight a woman could be so evil. Braxton knew, even as he stared at her, that he was fighting a losing battle. He never knew his heart was capable of breaking, but at the moment, he suspected it was well on its way. He looked at Brooke, cowering beside her mother.