Knights of Honor Books 1-10: A Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Alexa Aston

  “See? You should have fostered.”

  They both laughed, then he grew serious. “Are you looking forward to your new life, my lady? You will become mistress of a castle one day. Your children will be born there, and your eldest son will one day assume his rightful place. You will have a history and become a part of the fabric of life at Brookhaven.”

  Beatrice hesitated. She wanted the life Raynor described.

  But she wanted it with him. At Ashcroft.

  “Ah, we’re here.”

  She looked up and saw the castle that rose in the distance. The dark, foreboding structure caused her to shiver involuntarily.

  “Are you cold? I can fetch a blanket.”

  Raynor started to reach around to the cart’s bed, but Beatrice put a hand upon his arm and stopped him.

  “Nay, ’tis not the cold. I am frightened,” she admitted.

  He would think she spoke of meeting the inhabitants at Brookhaven or possibly a fear of the marriage bed. Instead, her biggest fear was how she would handle losing Raynor’s trust. Mayhap she deserved to. Beatrice almost wished her lies would be exposed the moment they arrived. Raynor’s rage would quickly drive him away from her. She hoped the anger would remain in his heart so that he could forget her forever.

  But Beatrice would never forget Raynor Le Roux—or his kisses. The thought of his touch would stay with her till her dying day.

  They continued along the road in silence now, past the empty fields where the harvest had been collected. She grew sick to her stomach as they approached the gate. Raynor stopped the cart and called up to the gatekeeper, giving their names and informing him that they were expected by Sir Henry.

  The gates opened and the man on duty gave them directions to the keep. Fury pranced along, taking them through the baileys until they arrived at the stairs leading up to the keep. A thin, balding man met them.

  “Welcome to Brookhaven, my lord, my lady. I’ll see your trunk is brought inside and that your cart and horse are cared for.”

  Raynor jumped down and reached his hands out to her. He clasped Beatrice about the waist and lifted her gently to the ground. Turning, he said to the servant, “I must warn you to be careful. Though Fury usually possesses a mild temperament, he is not a cart horse. I’m afraid he will be quite feisty after a morning of pulling us along.”

  “Very good, my lord,” the man said. “I appreciate the warning.”

  Raynor offered her his arm and they ascended the stairs. Beatrice’s heart beat more wildly with each step. She gripped Raynor’s arm, glad he steadied her.

  The massive door was opened by a tall, lean man. “Greetings. I am Shem, steward to Sir Henry Stollers. What business do you have at Brookhaven?” His tone was friendly but inquisitive.

  “I must admit that I am puzzled,” Raynor told him. “I am Sir Raynor Le Roux. I sent a missive weeks ago to Sir Henry, but I never received a reply from him.” He indicated Beatrice. “With me is Lady Beatrice Bordel. Unfortunately, her grandfather, a friend of Sir Henry’s, recently passed away. I sent word that I was escorting Lady Beatrice to the wedding.”

  “Ah. The wedding,” the steward said, pursing his lips.

  “When may we see Sir Henry?” Beatrice asked, eager to speak to the nobleman.

  A pensive look crossed the steward’s face. He started to speak and stopped.

  “Spit it out, man,” Raynor said. “We have come a long way.”

  “Sir Henry and his son are together. ’Tis easier to care for them.” Shem gave them a glum look. “I am afraid to tell you that both men are dying.”

  Shock reverberated through Beatrice.

  Dying?

  For a moment, she thought this brief reprieve would be welcomed. But if Sir Henry and his son were to pass on, that left only his grandson. She had no link with Edwin Stollers. He would have no reason to keep her on at Brookhaven unless as a companion to his bride. She clung to the waning hope that threatened to disappear.

  Beatrice determined to meet Edwin’s bride as soon as possible. The noblewoman would also be a stranger here. If they could bond—if Beatrice could convince the woman how valuable she could be to her—she had a chance of finding a home at Brookhaven.

  It surprised her when the steward said, “I will take you to them. Follow me.”

  She looked at Raynor. He gave her an encouraging nod. They followed Shem up the broad staircase. It surprised her that they hadn’t seen a servant inside the keep.

  They walked down a long hallway, one much longer than the one at Ashcroft. In fact, Brookhaven dwarfed that castle, though Beatrice had thought Ashcroft was enormous. After some minutes, they came to the end of the corridor. Shem opened the door to the solar without knocking and ushered them inside.

  Much like Ashcroft, the outer room contained the same type of furniture and would be a retreat for the family in residence. She noted the size and grandeur of everything within it and determined that Sir Henry had done quite well for himself.

  Shem said, “Sir Henry fell ill nigh on six weeks ago. One minute he was joking with me, the next, he clawed at his chest and collapsed.”

  Beatrice’s thoughts flashed to her grandfather and how similar the two men’s circumstances turned out to be. Dread filled her.

  “Sir Guy, his son, has been bedridden for years. He suffers from apoplexy. His right side is paralyzed. He was always frail as both a boy and a man, unlike Sir Henry, who has enjoyed robust health his entire life. But Sir Guy has a fever now. The healer has tried everything, but she said ’twill probably do him in. And Sir Henry grows weaker by the day. It’s only a matter of time before they both pass.”

  “What of the grandson, Edwin Stollers? The one who’s getting married,” Raynor inquired.

  A strange look crossed the steward’s face. It seemed to Beatrice that the man wanted to confide something to them but then chose to be discreet.

  “Master Edwin fears illness. He is not currently on the Brookhaven grounds. Instead, he’s gone to stay at the family’s hunting lodge. I’m to send word if either his father or grandfather improves or if one or both dies.”

  “What kind of man would leave his kin at such a time of crisis? Who’s running the estate?” Raynor turned to Beatrice. “Who could wed such a man as this? I have half a mind to return you to the cart and head back to Ashcroft in haste.”

  She agreed with Raynor. Edwin Stollers’ actions were inexcusable.

  The steward shrugged. “Master Edwin has never tolerated weakness in others. His mother also died of a fever when he was young. He worried as a boy that he would catch one and do the same. Master Edwin rarely spends time with his father. He has said it is hard to see Sir Guy so helpless and needy, having to be fed and attended to by others. Despite present circumstances, I feel certain he will return in time for the wedding next week. After all, the contracts have been signed.”

  “Could we see Sir Henry now?” Beatrice asked, trying to take focus away from the upcoming marriage ceremony.

  “Aye. I merely wanted to explain the situation to you before you proceeded inside,” the steward said. “You’ll find Sir Henry through that doorway. I’ll wait for you here.”

  Beatrice moved toward the door and started to knock but thought better of it. She did not want to disturb either man if they happened to be asleep. Instead, she pushed the door open and stepped inside the room.

  The bedchamber was twice the size of the one at Ashcroft. A large fire burned in the grate, heating the room, though the chamber still felt chilled. Her eyes fell to the bed closest to the door. In it lay a gaunt man, with thinning, mussed hair and a feverish glow. He was asleep. A woman sat in a chair next to the bed. Beatrice thought that this might be the healer that Shem mentioned.

  On the far side of the room, the other bed held an elderly gentleman. Several pillows propped him up in the bed, and she could see he stared at them. He raised a shaking hand and motioned for them to come closer. She glanced at Raynor, who nodded and began to walk the old man’
s way. Beatrice fell into step beside him.

  When they reached the nobleman, she tried to mask the emotions that flooded her. His color was a pale gray, as if he were a fish left to rot in the sun. Watery blue eyes blinked at them in curiosity.

  “Who are you?” he rasped.

  Chapter 19

  “I am Raynor Le Roux, Sir Henry. I was charged with bringing Lady Beatrice Bordel to Brookhaven after her grandfather passed away suddenly.”

  Sir Henry’s face crumpled. For a moment, Beatrice thought the old man might cry. Then he seemed to draw from some inner reserve of strength.

  “Henry Bordel was a fine man and an even better friend,” he shared. His face softened as he looked up at her. “Come closer, child. Let me see you.”

  Beatrice came to stand next to the bed. He took her hand and smiled.

  “I’m most happy to meet you, my lady. I’m sorry that I am in such poor health as I receive you.”

  “Your steward said it happened suddenly, my lord.”

  “Aye. One moment I was full of life. The next? I was felled by a giant pain that tore through my chest, as if a sword had been plunged into me and drawn from my belly to my heart.” Sir Henry sniffed. “Overnight, I became weak and helpless.”

  She squeezed his hand. “The same happened to my grandfather. He went out to hunt in good spirits. Our servant, Tolly, told me that Grandfather felled a stag, the largest either of them had ever seen. As they placed it in the cart to bring it home, Grandfather dropped to his knees. Tolly rushed home with him, but Grandfather was lost to me after we exchanged a few words.”

  Beatrice wiped away a falling tear, the hurt from that day like an open wound.

  “Better that than lingering between life and death. I wonder which breath might be my last.” Sir Henry paused. “But I am happy to meet you at last, Lady Beatrice. Your grandfather was so proud of you. You have a look about your eyes of him. He said you had a calm spirit and a giving nature.”

  She smiled wistfully at what her grandfather had shared about her. “I hope so, my lord.”

  The nobleman suddenly grimaced. Before she could cry out for help, he went limp against the pillows.

  “The pain,” he sputtered. “It comes and goes. I’m sorry. I tire easily. Mayhap we can speak more tomorrow.”

  “I would like that, my lord. We’ll leave and let you rest.”

  Sir Henry held on to her hand a moment longer. “I’m so glad you’re here. I want to get to know you, Beatrice, in the little time I have left. And with Henry gone, I hope you’ll choose to make your home here at Brookhaven. Now and always.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Beatrice bent and tenderly brushed her lips against the old man’s knuckles.

  A heavy burden had been lifted from her. She hadn’t had to ask Sir Henry if she could stay. He offered to take her in. She should be thrilled, but as she glanced at Raynor, she noted the puzzled expression on his face.

  He took her arm as they moved away from the bed, leading her to a corner of the room. “I find it curious that Sir Henry would offer you a place at Brookhaven. If you are to marry his grandson, would you not live here?”

  Beatrice brushed aside his concern. “It’s only the ramblings of a dying man, Raynor.”

  “He did not seem confused to me. Ill, most certainly, but not vague on what went on about him.”

  “No, but we have only met him.”

  “I don’t care for your future husband, Beatrice,” Raynor said, a grim look on his face. “A man shouldn’t abandon his family and responsibilities the way Edwin Stollers has. Mayhap he is not the man for you. We should look into breaking your betrothal contract.”

  She could not believe he thought to attempt this. “And where would I go, Raynor? You know I lost everything I owned in the fire, save my lute. My mother and grandfather are dead. What would you have me do? Go to London and beg on the streets?” Beatrice shook her head. “I will stay at Brookhaven as Sir Henry has suggested. We won’t discuss the matter anymore.”

  Beatrice moved away from him and hurried across the room to the door. Her steps slowed, though, as she saw the healer pulling the bedcovers over Sir Guy. She gave the woman a sympathetic look and crossed into the next room.

  “You need to notify Master Edwin that his father has passed,” Beatrice told the steward.

  *

  Raynor and Beatrice sat together in the great hall. They had finished breaking their fast. He watched as the serfs and soldiers of Brookhaven filed out of the room, ready to start their day. Servants began to clear dishes from the trestle tables while others pushed the tables back against the wall.

  He cursed inwardly, knowing his time with Beatrice drew to a close. All his life, Raynor had wished to find a woman that fascinated him and pushed him to be a better man. He desired one who would stand up to him—and for him. Raynor wanted a lover that he could lavish attention and love upon.

  The woman next to him would have been his perfect match in every way—his soulmate—except for Edwin Stollers.

  “Would you like to try and visit Sir Henry again?” he asked.

  “I would. Mayhap we can bring him some comfort in the loss of his son,” she said.

  They rose in order to go upstairs. At that moment, a stranger entered the great hall. Raynor took an instant dislike to him. He was fair and had wavy blond hair. He looked to be about eight and ten and acted as if he owned Brookhaven. It hit him that Edwin Stollers finally graced them with his presence.

  “What have we here?” His voice boomed through the large room. The man sounded arrogant and condescending at the same time. Approaching them, his eyes suggestively took in Beatrice from head-to-toe, appraising her.

  Raynor wanted to strike down the young fool.

  “Greetings, my lord,” Beatrice said.

  He smirked. “So you finally arrived. You must be my intended bride. I am Edwin Stollers.” He studied her again. “I must say, you are quite fair of face. Much more than I was led to believe. I will enjoy bedding you, my lady.” He called out to a passing serving wench. “Ale! Now.” He sat at the table they had just vacated. “Come. Sit by me. I would get to know you.”

  Raynor’s anger grew. Edwin Stollers, despite his good breeding, lacked manners. Not only did he treat Beatrice disrespectfully, but the young nobleman ignored him completely. Edwin Stollers was worse than Raynor had imagined he could be.

  Beatrice took a few steps in Stollers’ direction and then turned, raising her hand back toward Raynor. “My lord, I would like to introduce you to Sir Raynor Le Roux, who was kind enough to escort me to Brookhaven.”

  “Hmm. I thought your father was supposed to bring you here.”

  “Do you mean her grandfather?” Raynor decided to join their conversation, invited or not. “She lost him recently—as you have lost your own father. My condolences, my lord.”

  Stollers flipped a hand carelessly in the air. “My father died long ago. That shell of a man who hovered between life and death upstairs was no father to me.” He turned back to Beatrice. In honeyed tones, he said, “But come, my sweet. I want to talk with you.”

  Raynor watched Beatrice hesitate a moment. She looked from Edwin to him and back again.

  Stollers saw what she did and glared at Raynor. “You may go, Le Roux,” he said dismissively.

  “Where would you have me go?”

  Stollers shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done your duty and delivered my bride to me. Unless,” he said thoughtfully, “you’re the one designated to hand over her dowry. If her father—or grandfather—made you her guardian. In that case, you can meet with Shem, our steward. He will handle all the financial arrangements. Then you can be on your way. Neither I nor the lady have further need of you.”

  Beatrice turned pale at the flippant way Stollers spoke. Raynor had no wish to tamp down his fury.

  “You, sir, should be more respectful of the lady since she has suffered her loss so recently. I would think that the dowry had been arranged in
advance, according to the contracts. Most of all, I hope you’ll take the time to acknowledge your own grandfather, who lies dying as we speak, and try to honor your father, who can be buried now that you’ve finally returned after abandoning him and shirking your duties.”

  Stollers leapt to his feet. “How dare you speak to me with such insolence!” He glared at Beatrice. “Where did you find such an uncouth escort?” He clasped her upper arm and jerked her close. “I am to be lord of Brookhaven, as soon as my grandfather can put both feet into his grave. I won’t be spoken to in such a manner, especially by a retainer of my bride-to-be.”

  Raynor watched the pain and fear cross her face. “You go too far, my lord,” he warned, his voice low and even, as he strode to where the couple stood. Stollers let go of Beatrice’s arm and took a step back.

  “Who do you think you are?” Stollers cried, his jaw dropping open. “Attacking me in my own home?”

  And then the young nobleman began to laugh. “Ah, I see.” He glanced from Raynor to Beatrice. “You have feelings for the lady.” He cocked his head as he studied Raynor. “Did you know her from the cradle? Pine for her from afar as one of her father’s knights? Or did you fall in love with her as you journeyed here, wishing you could run away with her instead of delivering her into my welcoming arms?”

  Stollers shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I see on your face what she means to you.” He gave Raynor a triumphant smile. “But she’s mine, Le Roux. Mine to wed. Mine to bed. I will find joy when I think of how jealous you are every time I dip my wick into her soft folds.”

  He looked to Beatrice. “My, the lady does look distressed.” He brushed a finger down her cheek. “Mayhap you also have feelings for this knight who so gallantly springs to your defense?” He paused. “But you are mine, Minnith. The contracts are signed. We are as good as wed.”

  “Minnith?” Raynor asked, confused. He looked at Beatrice. “Is this another name you go by, Beatrice?”

  He watched her eyes well with tears. “Raynor,” she choked out.

  “My lord?” Raynor recognized Shem’s voice and turned, seeing the steward standing in the doorway.