Destined for Love

by Aston, Alexa

  Anger rushed through Drake and he fought to contain it. It would do no good to take it out on this poor girl.

  He would save it for Gunnora.

  Drake followed her up the stairs. She paused in front of a door. “Lord Baldwin is in here. I can come back to feed him so you may spend time alone with him.”

  “Lady Gunnora does not feed him herself?”

  Jane’s eyes went to her feet. “No, my lord.”

  “Does she sit with him?”

  “Sometimes.”

  He took the tray from her. “Open the door for me, Jane. I shall see Baldwin fed.”

  “Go slowly, Sir Drake. He has trouble swallowing. He won’t eat but a few bites.”

  “Thank you for letting me know. And Jane, do not tell Lady Gunnora I am here.”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes, my lord.”

  She opened the door and he slipped through it, hearing it close behind him. Drake moved to the bed, the painful wheezing shaking him to his core. He reached the bed and set the tray on a table before pulling a chair close to his half-brother. Baldwin’s eyes were closed.

  He placed his hand over his half-brother’s and then realized Baldwin couldn’t feel it. Still, he left it there, hoping in some way that Baldwin might be comforted by the touch. The earl had been hale and hearty the last time Drake had seen him. Today, he was little more than skin and bones. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His hair looked greasy and unkempt.

  “Baldwin?” he called gently.

  Baldwin’s eyelids blinked several times and then his eyes open. Drake didn’t know if Baldwin could turn his head so he leaned over to be in his half-brother’s line of vision.

  “You . . . came,” he rasped.

  “I did. I am going to see you have the best care possible, Baldwin.”

  “Too late. Won’t . . . live.”

  “Don’t say that,” Drake chided gently. Though they had never been close, the sight of Baldwin in such poor physical condition broke Drake’s heart.

  “Are you hungry? I have broth to feed you.”

  Baldwin didn’t reply. It seemed talking proved to be too much effort. Drake brought the bowl to Baldwin’s lips and tilted it slightly. Most of it dribbled down his chin and to his chest.

  “Don’t want,” he managed to say.

  “You must eat, Baldwin. You can’t live without eating.”

  A rueful smile crossed his half-brother’s lips. “So?”

  In that moment, Drake not only knew Baldwin would soon die but that he wanted to—and Drake could understand why. The smell of old urine and feces permeated the room. Who knew the last time Baldwin had been properly cleaned? This was not living. It was a living death.

  He set the bowl on the tray again and used his sleeve to wipe his half-brother’s chin.

  “I’m going to visit with Gunnora for a while. I will return.”

  “She . . . hates me.”

  Drake placed his head on Baldwin’s head. “No, Brother. She probably hates herself.”

  With that, he left the bedchamber. Deciding his sister-in-law would be in the solar, he ventured down the hall and knocked. He heard Gunnora call out to enter and he did so.

  She had her back to him as she chastised who she thought had entered the room for some imagined fault.

  “Do you speak to all of the servants in such a harsh manner?”

  Gunnora wheeled, her hand going to her mouth, trying to cover her gasp. Composing herself, she said, “I am surprised to see you, Drake.”

  “Why? You sent the missive, telling me to come at once.”

  She cocked her head and wet her lips, giving him a seductive smile. “I did. But I didn’t know if you would respond. Baldwin treated you rather shabbily.”

  “I thought you were behind my exiting Wakefield, Gunnora.”

  She touched her hair in a very feminine gesture. “Oh, no, Drake. I was opposed to you leaving but Baldwin insisted. He was always so jealous of you and the love and support you had from the people.” She smiled coyly. “But you are here now. You can right things. It has been a disaster, Drake. You are the solution to our every problem. Especially mine.”

  He already knew where this was going but he asked, “What, Gunnora?”

  “Baldwin will not be long in this world. You will need a feminine touch in the keep, Drake—and a woman to warm your bed.”

  “Are you offering to be that woman?”

  “I am the Countess of Wakeland. I could be a helpmate to you, Drake. Baldwin never gave me children but I know you could.”

  She had crossed to him and slid a finger slowly down his chest. “I think we would suit each other quite well, don’t you?”

  “What I think is you have abandoned your wedding vows, Gunnora. It is in sickness and in health that a couple stands together. You have pushed Baldwin aside as if he were worthless. You have neglected his care and the entire people of Wakefield. You are the last woman I would want as my countess or in my bed. When Baldwin passes, you will leave Wakefield and never return.”

  “What?” Anger sparked in her eyes.

  “You heard me. I don’t care if you go back to your family or enter a convent. You will not remain under my roof once I am the earl.”

  She slapped him hard. He was sure from the stinging that his cheek was imprinted with the shape of her palm.

  “You are disgusting. You march in here and already act as if you’re Wakeland. I have had to keep things going on my own. Baldwin is as good as dead, the way he lies there. He is no husband to me and no earl to his people.”

  “If you’d prefer to leave now, before he passes, I can provide an escort to your home in Cornwall or the nearest nunnery. Your choice, Gunnora.”

  She snorted. “You think you give me a choice. You think you’re so different from most men—or even better. You’re not, Drake Harcourt. You are a fool.” Crossing her arms, she said, “I will return to my family. Have an escort party awaiting me tomorrow morning.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  Drake left the solar and returned to Baldwin’s room. He sat at the bedside for a few minutes as each breath his half-brother took became more difficult. He thought to summon Father Paul but hated to leave Baldwin alone in case he passed while Drake was absent.

  The door opened and the priest came to stand on the other side of the bed. “I am glad you came home, Sir Drake. Lord Baldwin has regretted forcing you from Wakefield.”

  Their vigil lasted another hour. Father Paul gave Baldwin the last rites and his half-brother struggled to open his eyes.

  “Drake?” he croaked.

  He rose and leaned over. “I am here, Baldwin,” he said reassuringly.

  “So . . . sorry. Treated you . . .”

  Taking Baldwin’s hand, he said, “You’re forgiven, Brother.”

  His words calmed the Earl of Wakeland and the rasping grew fainter until he expelled a final breath. Silence permeated the room.

  “You gave him peace of mind, my lord,” the priest said. “I believe he clung to life until he saw you a final time.”

  With a heavy heart, Drake kissed Baldwin’s brow and then raised the sheet over his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Drake entered the solar and collapsed onto the nearest chair, too weary to even make it to his bedchamber. His days proved long with so much to do. He rose well before the sun and toiled ceaselessly, whether training Wakefield’s knights, meeting with tenants and helping repair their cottages, or going over ledgers with his steward. Thankfully, he’d always had a talent for numbers, despite never liking words and reading. Numbers were a language unto themselves and he explored not only the current ledgers but those from a decade past, seeing how Wakefield had performed during his father’s days as its earl.

  It still startled him when someone addressed him as Lord Drake. At least it hadn’t been an uphill battle to win his people’s trust. Those tenants and servants who had remained at Wakefield knew him well, as did the soldiers who’d stayed loyal t
o the Harcourt name. As for the new soldiers present, Drake had quickly proven himself with his combat skills and flexibility in fighting with either hand, no matter what the weapon. Already, two knights had returned to the fold and he believed as word spread of his return that more soldiers and tenants might do the same.

  Leaning down, he removed his boots and sat back in the chair again, eyes closed.

  And thought of Faylinn . . .

  Her image had lingered in the back of his mind in the week since he’d been home. He’d tried desperately not to think of her and had largely succeeded, simply because he was so busy. His entire future hung in the balance. Had she delivered a son . . . or daughter? Would she return to Mallowbourne to raise her boy and wed Sir Bevil—or would Drake have a chance to make her his countess?

  He had left Mallowbourne so quickly that he hadn’t thought to ask Sir Bevil to send word to him regarding the news of the babe’s gender. He hadn’t wanted the knight to know how deeply he loved Faylinn and how the outcome of her babe’s birth might affect them all. He supposed if he had requested a missive, especially now that he had left Mallowbourne for good, Sir Bevil would have found it odd. Lord Garrett wouldn’t know to send word to Wakefield. His missives would go to the king and Sir Bevil.

  Unless Faylinn wrote to him. Would she?

  He pondered if he should send his own messenger to Sir Bevil. Drake could inform Mallowbourne’s warden of his brother’s passing and that Drake had become Earl of Wakeland. If he sent Sir Rickon, he could ask the young knight to inquire while he was at Mallowbourne if Lady Faylinn was expected with her son. If so, Drake would have to let the matter rest and wish that she and her son have a happy life. But if Rickon learned that Faylinn wouldn’t be arriving at Mallowbourne and that Sir Bevil was now Lord Bevil, then Drake would know she had birthed a girl. He despised this distance between them, keeping him in the dark about so many things.

  A brisk knock sounded at the solar’s door. He’d never been disturbed this late at night and worried something had gone wrong despite his best efforts to right things as quickly as possible. He pushed himself from the chair and hurried to answer the door, bracing himself for bad news. When he opened it, Jane stood there with a man Drake vaguely recognized. He tried to place him and realized the man was from Stanbury. His heart skipped several beats, knowing in the next few minutes he would learn what fate had in store for him.

  “My lord, this messenger comes from Lord Garrett,” Jane said, indicating the soldier next to her. “He said it was important for you to receive this missive as soon as possible and he would only place it directly in your hands.”

  “Thank you, Jane. It’s Sir Rafe, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Lord Drake.”

  Drake looked to Jane. “Have refreshments prepared for Sir Rafe. He’ll be staying the night.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She left them.

  “Come in, Sir Rafe. Would you like some wine?”

  “No, my lord.” He handed Drake a rolled parchment. “Lord Garrett said only entrust this to you. When I was told you were no longer at Mallowbourne, I was directed to Wakefield. I will give you privacy in which to read it and wait in the corridor if you wish to compose a reply.”

  A sick feeling washed over him. Lord Garrett must have instructed the soldier to give Drake time to read the missive alone. That could only mean one thing.

  Faylinn had given birth to a boy. Or worse—she was dead.

  “Very well,” he said and closed the door.

  Drake stood immobile, dreading having to open and read the contents. Still, Sir Rafe waited. It was important for Drake to read whatever news had been brought from Stanbury and reply to Lord Garrett. He forced himself to go to the table and sat at the bench. With shaking hands, he broke the seal and unrolled the scroll, smoothing it in order to read it.

  Sir Drake –

  Lady Faylinn has delivered a healthy girl and named the babe Elewys, after the child’s grandmother. Her plans are to return to Newbury Manor.

  G.M.

  Faylinn lived—and was mother to a girl. Elewys.

  A rush of strong emotion surged through Drake, like waves crashing against boulders along the shore. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He wept with joy, knowing the woman he loved was alive. That they could build a life together.

  If she’d have him.

  Drake mopped his eyes with his sleeves and then bathed his face and dried it. He couldn’t remember a time in which he’d cried, not even at his parents’ deaths. He composed himself and opened the solar’s door.

  “Would you come in, Sir Rafe?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Thank you for bringing me Lord Garrett’s missive.”

  The knight smiled. “It was my pleasure, Lord Drake.”

  “I would like to accompany you to Stanbury if that’s agreeable.”

  Sir Rafe nodded. “I would enjoy having you as a companion, my lord.”

  “Let me accompany you downstairs. Jane will take care of you. I have several people I must meet with. Plan to leave at first light.”

  Energy now rippled through Drake. All signs of weariness had vanished. He left the Stanbury soldier in Jane’s capable hands and then went to awaken his captain of the guard, steward, and housekeeper. They assembled in the solar, all three curious as to the nature of this late night meeting.

  “I know I have only been at Wakefield a short while but I find I must be gone for a few weeks. I have received the best news possible and leave for Sussex in the morning. When I return, I will bring my bride and our daughter.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter at the shocked looks upon their faces.

  “I ask that the three of you continue the work that we’ve started, in order to make Wakefield a safe, thriving place again.”

  Drake went over specific tasks he wished to be accomplished by the time he returned with his family. All eagerly agreed to complete what he asked and thanked him for his trust in them. His captain asked if he could take on additional knights, saying he believed others would return now that Drake was the new Earl of Wakeland. He agreed to the request and dismissed them.

  He feared his excitement would keep him from sleep but he dropped off the moment his head touched the pillow. When he awoke, it was to a new day. A new life.

  One with Faylinn and Elewys.

  *

  Faylinn finished nursing Elewys and burped her. As always, the babe grew sleepy after eating. She glanced to Marielle and saw Valentine resting on her shoulder as she patted him on the back. A loud noise erupted and her sister-in-law chuckled.

  “My little Val makes such a huge sound,” Marielle exclaimed.

  “Valentine is not so little,” Faylinn pointed out. “Though he is but a week older than Elewys, he is much longer and heavier.”

  “He is a boy,” Marielle said with a shrug. “He should be bigger than his cousin. Elewys is perfect as she is, with her sweet temper.”

  “She is a very good babe. I only wish Amaury could have seen her.”

  And Drake.

  Faylinn had left Stanbury, knowing Garrett had sent word to King Edward and Lord Bevil regarding the birth of Elewys. She didn’t know if the earl had also written to Drake and hadn’t asked. It was important to her to guard her heart. She mustn’t think of herself. Elewys was her priority now.

  That didn’t mean stray thoughts of Drake never occurred. On the contrary, he remained constantly on her mind. She would think of a hundred things she wanted to tell him in a single day. She longed for him to meet Elewys—and prayed he would come for them both.

  It was much to ask, though, for Drake to accept Elewys, who was the child of another man. Though she hoped he would, she couldn’t be certain. He might have changed his mind. With her not returning to Mallowbourne, he might remain there and even become Lord Bevil’s captain of the guard, as had been intended before he volunteered to spirit her away.

  With each passing day and no sight of him, h
er hopes began to fade.

  “Shall we put them down for their naps?” suggested Marielle.

  Both women placed the babes in their cradles, leaving a servant to watch over them as they went downstairs. The midday meal would begin soon and they entered the manor’s hall. Faylinn went straight to the fire and enjoyed its heat, while Marielle excused herself to go to the kitchen to discuss something with the cook.

  Her backside now warmed, she turned and held her hands out to the fire, watching the colors that blazed. She closed her eyes, content that Elewys was thriving and she and her daughter had a home with Ashby and Marielle. It would have to be enough.

  Suddenly, she found massive arms wrapped about her and a familiar masculine scent wafted through the air as someone nuzzled her throat.

  “Drake!” she cried joyfully.

  He spun her in his arms. The handsome face she’d yearned to see drank her in a moment and then his mouth took hers, kissing Faylinn as if the world might end. No, it wasn’t the end for them.

  It was the beginning.

  After thoroughly kissing her for several minutes, he finally broke the kiss and grinned.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked, those mesmerizing blue eyes twinkling.

  “As much as you missed me,” she retorted.

  He laughed and kissed her again, hard and swift, before lifting his lips from hers.

  “You are free,” he said. “Free to wed me. Free to make a life with me. You. Me. And Elewys.”

  Faylinn bit her lip. “Are you certain, Drake?”

  He cupped her cheeks. “I love her completely and have yet to see her. What do you think?”

  “I think I would like you to meet her.”

  She took his hand and led him up the stairs, her heart racing. She asked the servant to wait outside so they might have some privacy and brought Drake to her sleeping daughter. No, their daughter.

  He gazed in wonder. “She is beautiful. The most precious babe ever born. I think she looks like you.”

  “That’s what Ashby said. That she favors me and our mother.”

  Drake placed his hand lightly on the babe’s head, stroking her with his large thumb. “If the two of you will have me,” he said to the sleeping Elewys, “it would make me the happiest of men.”