The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Lavaine nodded, the tears beginning to form. Then she collapsed into Kellington, sobbing softly. Kellington put her arms around her friend to comfort her.

  “I did not thank you for asking de Velt to bury Trevan,” she wept. “I… I’ve not had the courage to ask you what has become of my son.”

  Kellington’s expression washed with grief, something she tried to mask when Lavaine lifted her head to look at her. Kellington shook her head weakly.

  “I do not know what has become of your son,” she said honestly, softly. “De Velt would not tell me. But I asked him to bury the baby with his father.”

  Lavaine’s eyes widened and she burst into loud sobs. Kellington struggled to hush her.

  “Quiet, my pet,” she hissed. “There is a host of hardened men upstairs and I do not want them to hear you. Please calm yourself.”

  “But… but my son…,” Lavaine gasped.

  Kellington could feel the woman’s pain, giving her pain of her own. She shook the woman gently. “Do you want me to find out what has become of him?”

  Lavaine nodded, sobbing. Kellington dropped her hands and squared her shoulders. “Then I will do so.”

  “But, Kelli….”

  “I will find out now if it will help ease you suffering.”

  Lavaine looked at her with wide, fearful eyes. Kellington could see such grief in them that it tore her apart. She had no idea what she had been thinking to allow a man like de Velt to kiss her. She must be losing her mind. Furious, empowered, she whirled towards the narrow flight of stairs that led up to the hall.

  “Bring the refreshment,” she snapped. “Distract de Velt’s men with food and drink while I speak with him.”

  Startled, the serving women and the cook picked up the heavy trays and followed. Lavaine stood in the center of the kitchen, tears on her face, wondering if her grief had just condemned her friend to a painful death. No one made demands of Ajax de Velt and escaped his wrath.

  Yet Kellington had done so in the past. Perhaps he would show her mercy one last time and inform her of a baby’s last resting place.

  The great hall was filled with eleven powerful knights, milling in small groups and sharing violent and bawdy conversation. As Kellington emerged from the stairwell, she spied Jax’s dark head near the great table. He was conversing with two other knights, men she did not recognize. With a silent gesture to the servants behind her to distribute the food, she went straight for de Velt.

  She marched upon him and stood respectfully a few feet away. The two knights he was speaking to caught sight of her but Jax did not until their lack of attention to his conversation forced him to look and see what had them so intrigued. He wasn’t surprised to see Kellington standing there, looking like a goddess with her dark blue gown and sweet face. But he was surprised at the surge of jealousy that coursed through him, so much so that he stood up from where he was perched on the edge of the table and moved towards her as if to lay his claim then and there.

  “My lady,” he said without emotion. “Your presence in this hall is not requested. After the food is delivered you will retire to your chamber and remain there.”

  She gazed up at him, her golden-brown eyes glistening like a cat’s eye stone. “I have a need to speak with you immediately.”

  “It will have to wait.”

  “It cannot. It is of a most urgent nature.”

  “It is not more important than my immediate business. Retire to your chamber and I will come to you when my schedule allows.”

  She took a step towards him and lowered her voice. “Nay, Jax,” she whispered firmly. “I would speak with you now.”

  He gazed down at her, feeling the heat of her slender body against him. He was about to give in. He could feel it. Before he could stop himself, he nodded.

  “Very well,” he rumbled. “Two minutes. That is all I can spare.”

  Without another word, she preceded him from the hall, giving rise to strange expressions and curious looks between Jax’s knights. Kellington led Jax into the solar and shoved the old door closed.

  When the door was secured, she turned to face him. He barely had time to draw a breath before she was plowing into him.

  “I would know now what you did with Trevan and Lavaine’s son,” she jabbed a finger at him when he lifted an eyebrow. “And no more evasive answers. I would know the truth. Did you bury the boy with his father?”

  He folded his massive arms across his chest, the muscles bulging against the course fabric. “This is your urgent business?”

  She put her hands on her slim hips; she wasn’t about to back down now that she had a righteous rage bubbling. “Lady Lavaine is speaking madness. She talks of killing herself because her husband and son are dead. She does not know what has become of her son and she does not know where her husband is buried. I must have answers, Jax. Lavaine is my friend and she deserves more respect than you have shown her. Tell me now where her husband and baby are buried so that she may be at peace.”

  He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes at the sheer ludicrous nature of Kellington’s timing. But for as annoyed as he was, he realized in the same breath that he wanted to ease her rage. God’s Blood, he actually wanted to calm the woman. After several moments of pause, where the debate in his mind was obvious in his expression, he emitted another sigh.

  “I buried them in the chapel near the altar,” he told her. “Have you not been in there to see the fresh dirt?”

  She threw up her hands. “How can I go in there when you have forbidden me to leave the keep without escort?” she asked. “Moreover, I have to walk through that… that forest of corpses to get there and I have no desire to see those grisly trophies you have propped up for all to see.”

  His patience was fading. “Is that all you needed to speak with me about?”

  She shook her head, taking a few steps towards him until she was directly in front of him. “Nay, it is not. I’ve been told that one of your men has been taking sport with one of my servants. This must stop. I will not abide this behavior in the least.”

  His tolerance was gone. “What my men do is none of your affair. And do not make demands to me.”

  “They are raping my servants!”

  He shook his head slowly. “There is nothing unusual about that.”

  “Then you condone this behavior?”

  He reached out, snatching her by the arms and yanking her against his chest. His dual-colored eyes bore into her.

  “Such are the spoils of war, my lady,” he murmured. “Surely you did not think death and destruction were the only means of compliance and conquest.”

  Kellington gazed back at him, her anger turning to fear. “You are hurting me,” she whispered.

  His grip loosened but he did not let go. In fact, he pulled her closer. “Was there anything else you wished to speak with me about?” he breathed huskily.

  She was an inch from his face, knowing the inevitable was about to happen. He was going to kiss her; she could see it in his eyes. Her heart was thumping loudly against her ribs, knowing she should try everything in her power to break free but lacking the will to do so. Anger hadn’t worked with him. She chose to try another tactic.

  “My lord,” she said softly. “Please tell your men to leave my servants alone. For decency’s sake, I beg you.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “A much better attitude. Since you have asked so politely, I will see what I can do.”

  She sighed with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered. “And something else….”

  His head was dipping lower, his hot breath on her face. “What is it?”

  “The baby… he is truly dead?”

  “He is.”

  “Did… did it happen by your hand?”

  He stopped his advance, looking her in the eye. “Does that matter?”

  She nodded unsteadily. “Why?” he asked.

  “Please tell me the truth.”

  “It was not by my hand.”

  She seemed to go
limp with relief. Jax’s massive hand came up, grasping her chin and tilting her head up to receive his kiss. But she wasn’t finished with him yet.

  “Jax?”

  “Aye?”

  “If I ask something of you, will you do it?”

  “That depends.” He swooped on her, suckling her lower lip and tasting her sweetness. “What is it?”

  She drew in a sharp breath as he kissed her again, sucking the life from her. “I… I do not want you to kiss me anymore.”

  He stopped in mid-suckle, looking at her as if she was mad. There was also a great deal of disappointment in his expression.

  “Why not?”

  She pulled back from him somewhat, licking her lips, tasting him on her flesh. “Because it is not right,” she said softly. “I am of marriageable age. It will be difficult enough for me to gain any decent prospects as a prisoner of the fearsome Jax de Velt. Already suspicion will be cast upon me, a woman captive under your control. What would a future husband say if he knew I allowed you to kiss me? I should not have let you. It was wrong. It will ruin any chance I have of a good marriage.”

  He blinked at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He just stared at her. The two-colored eyes studied her intently, drifting over her blond hair, her sweet oval face, trailing down her neck. He was visually devouring every inch of her. After several long and anxious moments, the hand on her chin tightened.

  “I would not be concerned with that.”

  She scowled. “Of course I am concerned with that.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “God’s Blood, you are a naïve child. Do you truly believe that all marriages are decent and that all women go to the marriage bed as virgins?”

  Furious all over again, she tried to yank herself from his grasp but he held her tight. “I told you that I would not be your whore and I meant it. I’ll kill myself first.”

  “And I told you that you will not be my whore. You will be my wife. There is a distinct difference.”

  She froze mid-struggle. The golden brown eyes bulged to the point of popping from her skull. “What?” she managed to blurt.

  He stood tall from his position of hovering over her, his hands still on her arms, and kissed her chastely on the forehead.

  “I have a hall full of knights expecting me,” he told her. “You will go to your chamber and remain there. These men are brutal and ruthless and I do not want you in their path. I’d hate to have to kill one of them, as I need all of them.”

  She stood there, dumbfounded. He was finally forced to take her elbow and practically shove her towards the door. Once they reached the panel, she seemed to snap out of her shock.

  “Wife?” she repeated, almost shouting. “I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth. You are a murderer and a thief. I do not want you!”

  “But I want you. And that is where this conversation shall end.”

  He threw open the door and practically dragged her to the base of the stairs that led to the upper floors. When she refused to mount the steps, he easily lifted her onto the first step and spanked her soundly on the bottom.

  “Go,” he ordered softly.

  “This is not over,” she growled. “I will fight you with the last breath in my body against this… this madness.”

  “Go or you shall feel my hand to your backside again.”

  Rubbing her bum, glaring at him, she disappeared up the stairs. Jax stood there until she vanished. He made sure the smile on his lips was gone by the time he went back into the hall.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “The woman,” Apollo asked casually. “Who is she?”

  De Velt’s knights were still awaiting his return. The food had been brought, the servants scattered, and now they sat in disjointed conversation as they drank the wine and ate the food. No business could be conducted without de Velt’s presence. L’Ancresse’s question was on everyone’s mind.

  “She is the lady of Pelinom,” Amadeo replied. “Her father was garrison commander. We sent him back to Foulburn.”

  “You did not kill him?”

  “Nay.”

  Properly informed, L’Ancresse cast some of the other men at the table a long glance. “What is she still doing here?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to ask de Velt.”

  It was a puzzling situation. Whenever they commandeered a fortress, the women and children were usually the first thing to go. Jax had made that one of the primary rules of conquest. Even now, six castles along the Marches were virtually women-free at de Velt’s order. But at Pelinom, apparently the rules were changed.

  “She must warm his bed,” one of the other generals, Atreus, spoke. He was an older man, wiser, and had known Jax for most of his life. He was probably one of the few who could get away with speaking his mind. “There is no other alternative.”

  “She administers the coffers of Pelinom,” Amadeo replied, smacking his lips to the tart wine. “Beyond that, I can tell you no more.”

  “There are seven women here,” Caelen spoke, his mouth full.

  That raised a few eyebrows. “Seven?” Atreus repeated incredulously. “Why would de Velt keep seven women here?”

  “Because that woman has bewitched him.”

  They all looked over at Henley, seated at the end of the table and well into his third cup of wine. When he saw the attention on him, he looked at Amadeo and gestured with a sharp hand.

  “Am I wrong?” he asked Amadeo, the other knights. “She has cast a spell upon him somehow. His attention is on her when it should be on our next target. She weeps and he folds like an idiot. Do you want to know why there are seven women still here? Because she asked it of him. She cried and begged him not to do away with her women and, lo and behold, the women were not put away.”

  It was shocking news. Amadeo’s guarded glance moved around the table, wondering what the generals were thinking, ashamed and defensive on Jax’s behalf. But the truth was that he sided with them.

  “He is our liege,” Amadeo reminded the group. “He may do as he pleases. If he wants to keep the women around, so be it. It is not up to us to question him. I, for one, will not.”

  “He is breaking the rules he has set forth to the rest of us,” another general named Ares spoke. He was the most opinionated of the group and risked much with his loud mouth. “He demands we do away with the weak and small at our garrisons yet he does not do the same.”

  “He is our liege,” Amadeo reminded him again, louder. “If you would care to question the man as to his reasons, be my guest.”

  Ares would not go so far as to question Jax. Only a fool would do so and he was not completely foolish. But Henley was now into his fourth cup of wine and his tongue was greatly loosened.

  “’Tis the lady who controls Pelinom, not de Velt,” he rumbled. “He would do anything for her. Why do you think he cut down the enemy knight that was posted at the gatehouse? Because she begged him to. She begged him to bury the man with the baby he fathered. And he did it.”

  More stunning news; the generals did nothing more than glance uneasily at each other. Did this woman have so much power over a man they believed to be beyond such wiles? It was incredible to say the least. But Amadeo felt as if he was making excuses for their liege in front of the others.

  “Again I say, if you will be the first to question him about his motives, then by all means do so.”

  Henley grumbled. “She’s a witch, I say. And witches must be killed.”

  “Touch her and de Velt will have your hide,” Amadeo said pointedly. “She is untouchable.”

  “She is a witch,” Henley repeated, draining his cup. “How many fortresses have we seized? How many battles have we faced? De Velt is the Devil himself in battle and smites all who oppose him. He promised us riches beyond our wildest dreams when we set forth to battle on the Scots border. A garrison for each of us, money in our pockets. But what has happened instead? He finds a lovely chit at Pelinom and
his mind has been destroyed. His will is gone. And it is all that… that woman’s doing.”

  Amadeo was watching the hairy man work himself up into a rage. “If I were you,” he said slowly, “I would curb my tongue. Nothing about Jax de Velt has been destroyed. If he hears you, then you shall find out just how strong he remains. He will kill you.”

  Henley snorted, pouring himself his fifth cup of wine. “You know I speak the truth, Amadeo,” he slurped. “You have seen how he looks at her. She weakens him like a disease. If we are to preserve what Jax has promised us, then she must be removed.”

  Henley did not see Jax enter the hall, moving in the shadows as he made his way towards his men. Jax had heard the last few sentences of the conversation, not particularly surprised with the subject but exceedingly enraged. By the time Amadeo and a few of the other generals saw him, it was too late to warn Henley. The man was far gone with his opinion.

  “I will do what needs to be done,” Henley pounded his fist against the table. “You will all thank me when you see how right I am. The woman is a sorceress, bleeding Jax of his resolve. He is not the man who commanded our armies to victory on the Marches. That woman is infecting him, weakening him, and she must be destroyed!”

  A shadow as massive as the dead of night slipped up behind Henley. As the man lurched to his feet, he suddenly stiffened, arching his back, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The shadow behind him loomed into the light as Jax shoved a dirk deep into Henley’s ribcage, angling the blade in an upward motion so that it severed all that was critical in Henley’s chest.

  Henley didn’t utter a sound as he crumpled in the throes of death; Jax grabbed him by the hair and tossed him to the ground several feet away. The knight lay there and bled to death, and Jax did not give him another thought. His focus was on the remaining ten knights around the table; the dual-colored eyes blazed with an unnatural light.