Knights of Valor

by Denise Domning

  McCullough sucked in his breath then let out a choking sound, before rushing to his daughter. He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips, murmuring words against her flesh. But Michael couldn't move. He stayed put as if someone had nailed his boots to the floor. His mind shouted no a hundred different ways and still the vision before him did not change.

  She couldn't leave him. He would not survive without her. Elena was his whole world.

  A warm hand gripped his arm, and Michael looked down as if in slow motion to see the hand was connected to one of Elena's maids, Raelyn—Thomas' woman.

  "She lives," she said, hope masking the sadness in her eyes.

  He nodded, not wanting to voice his own fears.

  "She is strong, Michael. She is fighting death."

  He nodded again, but this time found the courage to ask, "How bad was it?"

  "The man stabbed her with a dagger, but not too deep, and not in any of her major organs the physician has told us. She's lost a lot of blood, but it was a clean wound, and should heal well enough. We must be careful of fever, and that she receives plenty of fluids so her body can replace the blood she lost."

  There was hope. If they kept her well, if he took care of her like he'd promised, she might live. She might live long enough for him to tell her how sorry he was and how much he loved her.

  "There is something else you should know," Raelyn whispered.

  "What?"

  "Not here." She left the room, and he followed behind her until they were alone in an alcove in the corridor.

  "No one knows except for myself and her maids, but Elena is with child. The physician did not say anything, I do not know that he is even aware, but the wound, it was nowhere near her babe. The child will hopefully survive this."

  Michael's mouth fell open slightly before he clamped it shut. "She is with child?" he asked, mostly to confirm that he'd heard it correctly but also because he could not believe it.

  "Aye," Raelyn smiled wistfully and stared off into the distance. "She is happy about it. 'Tis yours."

  He leaned back against the wall for support. Shock ripped through him, clearing his mind of all thought. A babe. Elena was having his child. Oh, God, the child could die within her womb. Did not mothers lose children when their bodies suffered? A child could not possibly make it through such an ordeal.

  He felt dizzy. All at once the stakes were even higher. He could lose not only his love, but his child. He'd be a broken man for sure then.

  Raelyn placed a comforting hand on his arm again, and met his gaze, her eyes filled with strength and determination. "I will do all that I can, Michael. Elena was more than a woman I served, she was more than a friend—she was like a sister to me. I will see to it she gets through this. She has taught me all she knows. I will use those skills to heal her."

  Somehow her words lent him strength and he felt as though he could go on. He nodded. "My thanks."

  Raelyn smiled. "None required. Now, you must go and speak to her. Even though she sleeps she will hear your voice and perhaps that will give her another push to wake. She missed you so." Raelyn looked off into the distance again, sadness taking place over her features for a moment. "I must go and make a poultice."

  "Thomas missed you too, Raelyn. He is well. He will come for you soon."

  She beamed at him, seeming to have been wondering that very thing. "Thank you."

  Raelyn walked off in search of what she needed to make a poultice for Elena, and Michael reentered Elena's chamber. Her father had left her side and talked with her brother discreetly in the corner. Seeing her alone on the bed, Michael felt now was the best time to go to her. They would have some privacy at least for a few minutes.

  He knelt beside her, taking her cold hand in both of his. "Elena—" His voice cracked. He pressed her hand to his forehead as he bowed his head. "Forgive me, my love, for leaving you unprotected. For everything. I should have taken you away when I had the chance. Everything that has happened to you is my fault. I pray you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive me some day." He stopped and looked up when her fingers squeezed his.

  "Michael," she breathed out, barely audible, her lips only parted slightly. She didn't open her eyes, but just saying his name, he felt his stomach flop.

  "Elena, aye, 'tis me. Oh, my love, I am so sorry. You will live, you will be all right. Raelyn is helping with your care, and your brother has a great physician."

  "Baby," she whispered, her fingers fluttering inside his grip. Her head twisted from side to side, her brows drawn together, but still she didn't open her eyes.

  He leaned forward, so that his lips were only an inch or two from her ear. "Our babe is safe, love. But you must sleep, you must gather your strength."

  She sighed. "Love."

  "Aye, love, I love you with every fiber in my being."

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek, which was wet. Was she sweating? Was a fever starting? He pulled back to see that a tear had slipped from her closed eyelids, and a small smile curved her lips before she sighed once more, and then was still.

  "Elena!" he said, fear pummeling his gut. But her chest rose and fell with strength beneath the coverlet. He hadn't lost her.

  A firm hand gripped his shoulder. "Michael, let her rest," McCullough said from behind him.

  "I cannot leave her. No." He shook his head vehemently. "I left her before and look what happened."

  "'Tis all my fault," Richard said with anguish. "I should have posted a guard at her door."

  "No, 'tis my fault for letting her marry that Godless bastard!" McCullough said through gritted teeth.

  "You can all play the blame game, but I do not see that it will do any of you any good, and it certainly will not help my lady to heal. We are all accountable in some way." Michael glanced up from Elena's prone body to see her lady's maid Beth walk into the room, her gaze on the bed.

  Something about the way she gazed at Elena pinched a nerve in Michael. She looked almost…pleased.

  But that could not be. This woman had been amongst the six loyal women who'd served Elena for years, and protected her. When he looked closer, her face was a mask of platitude.

  He needed to rest, that must be why he was seeing things. He'd traveled nonstop and been dealt some heavy news. Not to mention the mind twisting torture of not knowing whether the only thing that mattered in his life would live or die.

  He'd been in battle plenty, seen men die, held their heads and promised to relay messages to their families as they'd breathed their last, but nothing compared to this. With Elena, life held meaning. He wanted a future with her. They'd created a miracle within her womb. Life and how precious it was, was all so much more poignant than before.

  "Go and rest, wash up. Eat something. I will sit here with her while you do." Baron McCullough scooted a chair close to the edge of Elena's bed and planted his large frame within it. He turned back to see that Michael still stood there. "Go. Now."

  Walking away from Elena's sick room took every ounce of willpower he had, and then some—it took the urging of Richard.

  "Come, I'll share a meal with you and then have a bath sent up to your room."

  Michael wanted to protest, but he couldn't as Richard's face was stern and he did not want to argue with the man who would offer him shelter and who had saved Elena's life twice now. So, instead of arguing, he allowed himself to be led to the great hall where he ate cold meat and bread and drank too many cups of ale.

  Two weeks went by with Elena's health recovering at a rapid pace. Everyone was quite surprised at how well she recuperated from a wound that they all believed meant her death. Raelyn took excellent care of her. Prayers and tithes were offered. Michael spent as many waking moments, and some in slumber, by her side that her brother and father would allow.

  Messages had been sent to the king following the incident with the assassin. Richard had mangled the bastard beyond recognition, so no one was able to identify him, but the dagger he used, Michael did recogniz
e, but damn if he could figure out where he'd seen it before.

  Elena had flitted in an out of consciousness, beating a fever, and finally was eating again. Raelyn had also discreetly informed him that Elena had not bled, and so it would appear the babe was healthy.

  But now came the hard part. He would have to speak with her regarding the attack to see if she recognized the man.

  He knocked softly on her door, and heard her soft call from within. The sound of her voice brought a smile to his face and had his heart beating rapidly. To think he'd almost lost her!

  He opened the door and walked inside. Elena sat up in her bed, pillows propped behind her. She was dressed in a white nightrail and matching robe, and the coverlet was pulled up to her hips. Her hands rested on her lap. From the weight of her arms pulling the covers tight, he could make out a small swell in her abdomen. Color had returned to her cheeks and lips.

  "You look well and…beautiful," Michael said softly as he approached, running his fingers over the edge of the bed.

  She blushed. "Michael." Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "There is so much I want to say."

  He knelt beside the bed, took her hands, and gazed into her warm eyes. "Let me first beg your forgiveness."

  "I have already given it to you on several occasions already," she said with a small laugh.

  "I know, but every time I look at you, I realize that I could have lost you, and I am filled with guilt once more."

  "Shh…" She pressed a delicate finger to his lips, and desire flared inside him. He recalled how he'd once kissed those fingers, brought her to the heights of pleasure. She closed her eyes, and he could tell from the ragged breath she took that she was thinking similar thoughts.

  "I shan't ask it of you again—today."

  "Then we agree upon that. But I know there is more you want to discuss… The attack." Her lips twitched, and she pressed a hand to her belly.

  They had yet to discuss the child growing inside her, and he could see the fear in her eyes. Did she think he would not accept her or the babe?

  "Elena." He placed his hand over hers, feeling the swell beneath his fingertips and kept his gaze steady. "I know about the babe—our babe."

  "You do?" She half-grimaced.

  "Aye, not only did Raelyn tell me but you whispered of it in your sleep. Do not make such a face. Do you know me not at all?" he teased. "I love you. I have loved you since the moment I first met you all those years ago. You are my princess, and now you carry a little prince or princess within your womb that we created with our love. A miracle. The child has survived so much already."

  Elena beamed and grasped his cheeks in her hands. She leaned forward and placed her lips on his. What was probably meant to be a chaste kiss quickly turned to one of desperate need. Her lips were so pliant and soft beneath his, and she tasted of chamomile, lemons and honey. He swiped his tongue between her lips to drink deeper of her kiss. She moaned softly against his mouth, her fingers sliding from his cheeks into his hair. Michael wrapped his arms around her waist, stroking up her back and then to her cheeks and soft hair. It'd been too long since last he felt her lips on his. He wanted to consume her. He wanted to lay her back on the bed and stroke away every bad memory, leaving paradise in the devil's wake.

  "Uh—huh."

  They startled apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them. Michael turned, with a snarl to see who would interrupt them, but was greeted by Baron McCullough. Instantly he felt shame for having kissed the baron's daughter with such obvious sensuality.

  "My lord, I—"

  The baron shook his head and held his hand up dismissively. "No need to explain, I suspect we all knew this moment was coming. And if I'm not mistaken it has happened before." The baron gave a knowing look at Elena's belly.

  When Michael opened his mouth the say something, the baron cut him off, "A missive has arrived from the king."

  "Missive? Is the messenger still here?" Michael stood, but still clutched Elena's hand in his.

  She felt she would die of embarrassment at her father not only walking in on her and Michael in the midst of a passionate embrace, but also having figured out she was with child. And to know the child was Michaels'! Why did he not brand her a whore?

  "Aye. Ordinarily, I would tell you to come with me to speak in private, but since the news contains information regarding my daughter and her husband, I thought it best to bring it before the both of you to hear."

  Oh, God… Her stomach knotted with fear, and she held her breath. Any mention of Kent in her presence brought on a sense of panic, now was not any different. Sweat gathered on the back of her neck, and she willed herself not to start screaming. Her fingers trembled and she clasped them in a tight grip to keep Michael and her father from seeing. Flashes of that night passed in her mind. It was dark. A man in a cloak. His words… From my master, your master. And then his apology, I never wanted this. There was something so familiar about his voice, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

  "Are you all right?" Michael asked, turning concerned eyes on her.

  "Perhaps I should relay the news to you alone in Richard's library," her father cut in, speaking to Michael.

  "No!" She bit her lip at having yelled, but truly she did not want him to leave without telling her the news. Her sanity would never last. "I would hear what it says…please."

  Her father nodded, and Michael squeezed her hand in reassurance. The baron unrolled the parchment and cleared his throat.

  "Sir Michael Devereux, I write this letter on behalf of His Royal Highness, King Henry V of England, France and Lord of Ireland. We are in receipt of your missive regarding the crimes of one Earl of Kent, Chauncey de Bourg. With witnesses to prove of his crimes both in England and France, His Majesty did send forthwith men to detain him and convey him to Westminster Palace. However, upon the arrival of the royal yeoman, the Earl appeared to suffer from apoplexy. He was pronounced deceased within minutes. I regret that I should bear this news within the confines of a letter, but it is imperative that you return to England—as is the King's demand. You are to deliver the Countess of Kent to the royal court at Westminster with all due haste. Would that you also relay this somewhat delicate news to her ladyship. God be with you and protect you on your journey. –Robert Darcy, Clerk of King Henry V of England, France and Lord of Ireland."

  "I will go." Elena lifted her chin so that neither her father nor Michael could argue with her.

  "You will wait until you've recovered," her father said sternly.

  Michael nodded and crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. "I agree. There is no need for you rush into anything. You've only just begun to eat regularly. And the babe…"

  Elena frowned at Michael. "I will agree to wait another week, but then we shall report to His Royal Highness. I must have a say in my future before he demands I marry another cruel barbarian."

  "He won't," both men said at the same time and then gave each other an appreciative glance.

  She rolled her eyes. "You are both so sure of yourselves."

  "We know the mind of the King. He is not as cruel as some would make him out to be. He will not marry you off to just anyone after having discovered the torment you've been through," Michael said.

  "There is another reason as well," the baron added. "I have already sent him my opinion on whom you should marry."

  Her mouth fell open in exasperation. "What? Who? How could you have done such a thing when you knew I was already married—even if the man was the devil incarnate?"

  Her father clamped his mouth closed and crossed his arms over his chest. Michael glowered, any bit of camaraderie they might have shared moments ago seemed to dissipate. Elena could almost read Michael's thoughts as he shot daggers through his gaze at her father. He was thinking her father would once again give her to someone else. And she was of a like mind. Anger simmered beneath the surface of her skin, and she gripped the sheets in her hands to keep from lashing out.

  "Might I
have a word in private with you, Elena? Michael." The baron nodded to Michael in dismissal.

  Michael bowed stiffly, taking the hint that he was to leave. She opened her mouth to protest, but Michael gave a subtle shake of his head, and sent her a smile that told her how much he cared for her.

  She gulped. Her father would now surely tell her how much she had disgraced him, and that as punishment he had suggested to the King he marry her off to some other boar seeing as how her first husband could not take her in hand. As Michael closed the door, her father walked closer and sat down on the bed beside her. He looked down at his hands, dejected. It was the first time she'd ever seen him look so unconfident, so unsure.

  "When you were born, I held your little pink body in these hands. I looked at your mother and I told her you were perfect, that I would protect you for the rest of my days." He sighed deeply, as if a great burden held a clamp on his heart. "I failed her. I failed you."

  "Father—" She placed her hand on his. This was not what she expected at all. Her father appeared to be apologizing instead of berating her.

  "No, Elena, 'tis true. I should never have let you marry that madman. Look at all that has happened to you." He sucked in a breath. Were those tears glistening in his eyes?

  She bit the inside of her cheek as the sting of tears filled her own eyes.

  "I am a stubborn fool. I assumed your letters were those of a lonely young girl, wanting to come home. Exaggerations. That you pined for another man and refused to give your marriage a chance. I know now that they were nothing but the pleas of a child to be saved by the one who gave them life and promised to forever safeguard them." He shook his head. "I never wanted you to marry Kent. But it was ordered by the king and I prayed he'd treat you well. Before we received the news of his death, I sent a missive to the King demanding an annulment, and that I wished to join you with an ally of my own. I sent two men to fetch you the night you were attacked here. I wanted you home. I wanted to tell you how much I regretted everything I'd done and said. My men returned with news that you had been… Forgive me child, I should have come for you myself." He looked up at her then, agony and remorse etched on his features.