To Love an English Knight

by Ewing, Sherry

  Finishing his task, he gave his steed an affectionate pat and the beast nudged him, tossing his mane. Charles smiled for the first time in days and reached over to a satchel hanging outside the stable door.

  Pulling out a bright, red apple, he held it before the horse who greedily consumed it. “You are spoiled rotten, Devil,” he said before the horse nudged him again. “You have had enough for one day. I have to save one for your friend in the next stall.”

  Devil whinnied, stepping forward to the door where Catherine’s horse, Night Star was stabled. The two horses put their noses together, and Charles pushed Devil back so he could leave the stall. Devil nickered in protest.

  “You ornery beast! If you had your way, you would already have a foal or two, would you not?” Charles laughed when Devil moved his lips, appearing to grin. Charles shook his head, closing the stall door. “I thought as much.”

  He went to Night Star’s stall with brushes in hand and began to groom Catherine’s mare. Squatting down to work on her legs, he heard the stable door open and shuffling feet. He did not pay much attention to whomever had entered, thinking ’twas one of the many stable lads. But when a man spoke, Charles listened, keeping himself hidden from view given their conversation.

  “We are alone.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Do you see anyone about, you imbecile?”

  “’Tis not my fault you are in a foul mood.”

  A low growl emitted, and the tone echoed in the stable. “I cannot believe she wed some Scotsman. She should have been mine.”

  “Lady Catherine?”

  “God’s bones! Who else would I be talking about?”

  The other man chuckled. “You are a bastard relation far removed from the de Wolfe line. Why the hell do you think she would have married you?”

  “She knew I cared for her—”

  “—and Lord Padraig refused to give his blessing to the union, if I recall.”

  “Bah! I could have made him see reason in time.”

  “Time you no longer have. You would have only received his consent at the point of his sword even if you could have gotten the better of him. She is a MacLaren now. Move on and find another heiress to fill your coffers, Hamlin.”

  A scuffle erupted between the two men. “You broke my bloody nose, you dolt!”

  “And I specifically told you no names!” Hamlin warned.

  “Who is to know we are here but the horses?” the other man hissed. “I may bleed out, you bugger.”

  “Be a man, Larkin. This cannot be the first time someone punched you in the nose.” Hamlin chuckled.

  There was a brief moment of silence before Larkin spoke up. “I thought you said no names.”

  “We are alone.”

  “And you are still an arse,” Larkin said. “I have no idea why we have continued to linger here, so where to now? After all, our cousin is buried and Lord Robert has assumed control of Wolverhampton. Catherine is wed to another.”

  “For now,” Hamlin replied.

  Now that caught Charles’s attention. He silently made his way to the stall door to peer slightly above the door. Hamlin and Larkin de Burgh, Charles thought with a grimace. Those two had been a pain in Charles’s side for years while Hamlin continued to allege Catherine belonged to him. Hamlin always claimed he was a de Wolfe even though they were never acknowledged as such. With their blond hair and brown eyes, they were the total opposite of the physical traits of the de Wolfe’s.

  “What is that supposed to mean? I do not relish being caught up in another one of your losing schemes, brother.”

  “This will not fail.”

  “As I recall, the last time you promised me such, we were scampering down through a tower window when you did not ensure our escape through the front door. Did you forget how we had to swim our way from a filthy moat when you did not make the rope long enough?”

  “We got away,” Hamlin muttered.

  “Without the extra monies you promised me,” Larkin said. “So what do you have in mind now?”

  “Lord Douglas will meet an early demise. I will then wed Lady Catherine and claim Berwyck as my own.”

  A laugh erupted from Larkin. “That is too ambitious, even for you Hamlin. Have you really taken a good look at her husband? That man is like a mountain! He will not be so easy to kill without a fight.”

  “Who said anything about fighting?”

  “Then how do you plan to get rid of him?”

  “Poison, of course. He will not expect something so simple as such a way to die is usually a woman’s ploy. ’Twill be easy to place a drop or two in his wine to see the deed done. No one will suspect us.”

  Another moment of silence fell between the two brothers, and Charles did everything to hold himself still so he could hear the rest of their plans. ’Twas either that or make himself known by calling them out. But that would solve nothing, for as of now, they had truly done nothing wrong, with the exception of their mouths running amuck. Charles squatted down again so he was not accidently seen.

  “We would be rich,” Larkin finally stated.

  “Aye, and I will have the woman who should have been mine in the first place.”

  “But Berwyck is located in Scotland. I do not relish living with enemies.”

  “And yet, it could easily be back in the hands of the English if I am wed to its mistress.”

  “The Duke of Normandy might look upon us favorably again.”

  “And when he is crowned king, he will be grateful to us for having the foresight to oversee Berwyck in his realm,” Hamlin said.

  “Your plan just might work.”

  “Of course it will work because I am brilliant. But let us not press our luck. I still need to make arrangements, and we should not linger any longer than we already have.”

  Laugher rang out in the stable before Charles was left alone with only the horses for company. He would speak to Douglas at the first opportunity to let him know the plans of the de Burghs. Considering Charles was not exactly on friendly terms with Douglas, he could only pray the stubborn Scotsman would listen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Freya pulled the hood of her cloak over her head as she left Berwyck’s keep. The morn was chilly, leaving her to wonder when the first snow would blanket the earth. Thinking she would rise early and make her way to the stables before anyone was awake, she had planned to ride along the strand to clear her mind. Heaven alone knew how tormented she was while she continued to wonder at Charles’s fate.

  For a fortnight, she had worried over him since Douglas and Catherine had not returned home. With no word coming from Wolverhampton, she had no knowledge if Charles would be allowed to return to Berwyck or remain as Lord Robert’s vassal. On more than one occasion, she had pondered if she could get away unnoticed and make her way to him. Killian and Boyd, the captain of her guard, had other ideas, and any chance that she might escape their notice for a second time was to no avail. She was constantly guarded and never allowed any sort of privacy unless she was in her own bedchamber.

  Her return trip to Berwyck had been without incident. Roland made every attempt to keep her engaged in witty conversation. But she would have nothing to do with this particular de Wolfe even though he appeared at her side whenever she was about. Freya knew she had been foolish to follow her brother and Catherine on their journey, but to be caught with Charles had truly been inexcusable in her mother’s eyes.

  She was tired. Tired of being watched. Tired of worrying over the fate of the man she loved. Tired of never having a moment’s peace even inside her own head. She just needed to escape the confines of Berwyck if only for the morn. She had made a vow to her mother she would behave, but this confinement was more than she could bear!

  She made her way through the inner bailey and passed the healer’s hut. Freya had made an attempt to ask Shona what she could see since everyone knew Berwyck’s healer had the sight. But Shona refused to say much other than all things will work out as
they should with time. It appeared that everyone was against her.

  She had only gone a few steps past Shona’s hut when the door opened and Boyd fell into step behind her. She heaved a heavy sigh. Damn the man for following her and for being so vigilant. Freya would have hoped that Boyd would spend more time inside with his wife on such a chilly morn.

  “Must ye always be under foot, Boyd?” Freya fumed as she continued her way toward the outer bailey and stables.

  She heard him muffle a curse before he answered. “Ye must know I go where ye go.”

  “Go back inside tae yer wife. I am certain Shona would enjoy yer company more than I.”

  “Ye know I cannae do that, Lady Freya. My orders are tae stay with ye whenever ye venture from the keep. I do not care for what punishment Laird Douglas will mete out if I should fail him again.”

  She whirled around so quickly that Boyd almost ran into her. “My brother would not dare harm my captain. Ye are not responsible for my absence from Berwyck,” she said, worried for the first time that some harm might befall the man.

  “I am responsible whether ye think so or not. What good am I as yer captain if I dinnae know ye had left Berwyck?”

  “Ye have always been above reproach, Boyd, and yer honor has never been questioned. ’Tis not yer fault I was so foolish,” she said, trying to get her point across to her captain. “No one, including ye, would have thought I might dress as a lad and make my escape from Berwyck.”

  “Ack! Ye have no idea what I thought when I learned of it. Not all men have honor, my lady. Ye could have been harmed in more ways than just yer brother learning of yer deceit.”

  “I am sorry ye were caught up in my deception tae follow my…” she swallowed hard, “my brother.”

  A hoarse croak left him before he cleared his throat. “Aye…yer brother.”

  She peered back over her shoulder to see a knowing smirk upon her captain’s face. She refused to acknowledge that she had lied once more. “I will tell Douglas ye are not at fault and ensure ye are not admonished for my foolishness.”

  “I dinnae know if anything will help what awaits me upon his return,” Boyd grumbled.

  Freya peered ahead toward the stable and halted, causing her captain to almost run into her again.

  “What the devil?” she cursed softly. Stomping her way toward the stable, she yanked the reins of her horse from Roland’s gloved hands. Her mare whinnied in protest while Freya began cooing to her steed as if the Frenchman had been the one to hurt the animal.

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Good morn to you, Lady Freya. I thought perchance you would like to ride with me. ’Tis a glorious day, is it not?”

  “Far from it,” she murmured beneath her breath. She gazed between the two men as though they were plotting against her. Boyd shrugged while Roland continued to keep an annoying grin set upon his face. “Why are ye here?”

  His smile widened. “’Tis obvious,” he said, waving to the saddled horses. “Did you not wish to ride this morn?”

  “Aye, I did but alone. I do not require yer company,” she answered before placing her foot on the mounting block.

  Before she could mutter a protest, Roland took her about the waist and lifted her into the saddle. She shooed his hands away when he made an attempt to arrange the skirt of her gown.

  “You may wish to ride alone, my lady, but that will never happen. I am an extension of your guard until your brother returns. You will just have to put up with me,” Roland said. Leaping into his own saddle, he took up the reins while Boyd went to his own horse. “Shall we?”

  Freya pulled on the reins and turned her horse in the direction of the barbican gate. Once clear of the drawbridge, she kicked her steed into a trot to make her way through the forest and down to the beach. Roland and Boyd were coming up behind her when she snapped the reins, putting her horse into a gallop. Clumps of sand left a trail as she made every attempt to distance herself from the men who refused to leave her side. She should have known it was hopeless on her part to leave them behind, so instead, she tried to ignore them while she raced her mare along the beach.

  The taste of what limited freedom they offered her was sweet, and she relished the sensation of the ocean breeze in her face. Once they had traveled a substantial distance, she slowed her horse and turned her back around so she could see Berwyck Castle sitting on the cliff in the distance. She sighed at the impressive sight and could only wonder what the future held for her and Charles. Thoughts of where they would live were mingled in with the feeling that Berwyck belonged to her brother and Catherine now. The place she would call home in her future would lie somewhere else.

  Roland came abreast of her horse, ruining her moment of solitude. Boyd stayed in the rear. At least someone knew when she preferred silence to conversation.

  “You seem pensive, my lady,” Roland said. “I thought you would find the ride exhilarating.”

  “I would, had I been left alone tae enjoy the view by myself.”

  He laughed. “What fun would that be?”

  “Why are you here, Lord Roland?” she asked again, wondering why he lingered at Berwyck.

  “We are riding together, Lady Freya.” For once he seemed puzzled instead of the confident man she had become used to.

  She shook her head and inwardly fumed. ’Twas obvious this man had no idea that he was no longer needed as an extra guardsman. “Nay, I mean why are ye still here, at Berwyck? Surely ye have other places tae go. Yer sister must have need of ye.”

  “Do not fear, my sweet. I shall leave soon enough. Until then, we can enjoy each other’s company.”

  “I dinnae care tae spend more time with ye than I already have, my lord,” she said, ignoring his endearment and giving her hair a defiant toss. “Feel free to raid Cook’s larder and be on yer way.”

  “My, you are a feisty one. I can see what de Grey see’s in you. But tell me…” he let his words trail off while he studied her, “will he be able to hold your interest for a lifetime like I could?”

  “You are a conceited oaf,” Freya said, lifting her nose.

  “But you must admit, I am far more handsome than de Grey is. Truly, what is it about the knight that both you and Livinia see in him?”

  Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Livinia’s interest in Charles. Doubt of Charles’s feelings for her swept across her heart. “Maybe ye should return to Wolverhampton and ask her yerself. At least I would be well rid of ye!”

  His laughter roared from him like the fiercest waves from the ocean. “As I said before, I made a vow to watch over you until your brother’s return. You would not wish me to go against my word now, would you?”

  “I do not care what you do!” Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of Charles and Livinia being together. But she would not give Roland the satisfaction of letting him know how much his words had hurt her.

  They continued to ride side by side for several more minutes before he spoke again. This time, his tone was somber as though he regretted making sport of her. His words confirmed her suspicions.

  “I am sorry if my words have wounded you, my lady. ’Twas not my intent. You have nothing to fear about de Grey’s feelings toward my sister. They are merely friends, nothing more,” Roland said. He sounded sincere for once instead of his teasing manner that always annoyed her.

  But Freya could not forgive him, not that he asked for her to do so. Instead, she returned to Berwyck. She had come to a decision, and whether she would regret it or not, she would see it through.

  Seeking out her mother and after Myra agreed, they began to make plans to go to her manor near Edinburgh. Killian would see that a sufficient guard traveled with them to ensure their safe arrival. Lord Roland would be free to depart, and good riddance. Freya would leave word for Charles on where he could find her. She would no longer stay at Berwyck. It no longer felt like her home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charles entered the great hall of Wolverhampton and tossed his cloak to a ne
arby servant. A light dusting of snow had fallen this eve, and the walk outside had left Charles with a sense of misery. Lord Robert had ordered him to remain here instead of returning with Catherine and Douglas to Berwyck. Freya would never understand.

  On more than one occasion, Charles had made every attempt to speak with Douglas regarding what he had overheard with the de Burgh brother’s. But he had been refused an audience, and Charles could only stand by and keep a vigilant eye upon Hamlin and Larkin whenever they were afoot. With winter upon them, many at Wolverhampton had become ill, including Lady Catherine who remained confined to her chamber for the past se’nnight. Charles had been told her husband remained by her side. For that, Charles had been thankful knowing Douglas would at least remain safe.

  But when Catherine appeared with Douglas this eve, Charles was given the impression she must be on the mend for she would not appear in the hall otherwise. He watched the pair as they conversed with several of Catherine’s relatives who had yet to leave Wolverhampton. The de Burgh brothers were on the opposite end of the hall, whispering among themselves. Charles’s brows furrowed while observing them. He had no doubt they had thoughts to at last carry out their plan to poison Douglas.

  “She lost her child,” Livinia said when she came up to Charles, taking his arm.

  “Who?”

  “My cousin, Lady Catherine.”

  He peered down at Livinia. “How do you know such information?”

  “She asked for me in her grief. She was not far along. These things happen.”

  “You do not sound very sympathetic for your cousin’s loss,” Charles declared, knowing how upset Catherine must feel. “First her brother, nephew, and Lady Nicola’s unborn child, and now her babe as well. Have you remorse?”

  “My only remorse is that I was unable to convince you to go after what you want instead of submitting to Lord Robert’s demand you stay at Wolverhampton.”

  “I am his vassal and not free to go.”