Dark Warrior (de Russe Legacy Book 9)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Trenton nodded. “Dillon can deliver that report to his father,” he said. “Our job is finished. We will rest the army and return to the ships and let the House of de Winter handle it from here. They can recover Black Cove without us, for I consider our job done.”

  Cort nodded. “Good enough,” he said. Then, his expression tightened a bit. “How is Brend faring?”

  Trenton grunted. “He is hanging on,” he said. “His sister told me that he drank some salted water last night, so that is a good sign. Beyond that, I did not ask.”

  Cort nodded faintly. “Then I shall see him and give him a report about Mount Wrath before I sleep for a few hours,” he said. “Have you slept at all?”

  “Nay.” Trenton paused before gesturing to the horse. “Give that beast over to Bo. I need to speak with you.”

  Cort dutifully handed the reins over to his brother, who took them happily. “If you do not see this horse for the next day or two, or me, know that we are together and having a wonderful time,” he told Cort. “I have been eager to ride him.”

  Cort frowned. “Don’t you take that horse anywhere,” he said. “He had better be in the corral when I get back to camp or you will not like my reaction.”

  Gage began to pet the horse, admiring the big muscles and golden coat. “He’s a beauty, Cort,” he said. “Please let me try him.”

  “Nay. Keep your dirty mitts of my horse.”

  “I heard you stole it from Damien de Winter.”

  “Whoever told you that is lying.”

  “Dillon did.”

  “He is lying. I will tell him to his face.”

  Snickering like naughty boys, Boden and Gage began to lead the horse back towards the encampment, declaring that Vulcan liked them better, loud enough for Cort to hear. He rolled his eyes at his greedy younger brothers.

  “We should have drowned those two at birth,” he said. “I forget why we did not. Something about Mother loving them, I suppose.”

  Trenton grinned. “I thought the same thing about you.”

  Cort looked surprise. “Me? I was the perfect child.”

  “You were a terror.”

  Cort flashed him that all too familiar cheeky grin. “You love me. Admit it.”

  Trenton nodded, his smile fading. “I do love you,” he said. “Which is why I must ask you a question and you will be completely truthful with me.”

  “I always am.”

  “Did you marry Brend MacRohan’s sister?”

  Cort lost all of his humor in an instant. He stared at Trenton a moment before nodding his head. Very little hesitation, only surprise. He’d promised to be truthful and he wasn’t in the habit of lying to his beloved older brother, no matter how shocked he was.

  “I did.”

  It was Trenton’s turn to stare at him in shock. “Did you really?”

  “I told you I did.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Trenton simply looked at him. For a moment, he had no idea what to say. In truth, he hadn’t expected that answer and was in no way prepared for it. He was a man of supreme control, but this was pushing it. Badly. He lifted a hand, scratching his head in a bewildered manner.

  “And when did you think to tell anyone?”

  Cort took a step towards him, lowering his voice. “After I told Papa,” he said quietly. “Trenton, let me explain something to you. I am not a man to act on a whim. I think you know that. So when I tell you I love Dera with all my heart, I hope you will understand. You have a wife that you love. Now, so do I.”

  Trenton could feel his heart start to pound. The reality of what his beloved young brother had done was beginning to settle on him and he could feel horror rising in his chest.

  “But this is no ordinary marriage, Cort,” he said. “You know this. Your wife is Irish.”

  “I am aware.”

  “You have broken the law.”

  “And that is why we will keep the marriage secret,” Cort said. “I must speak with Papa and he will tell me how to proceed. What I want to know is how you found out.”

  So much for control. Trenton exploded. “You would burden our dying father with this… this folly?” he hissed. “Are you truly so selfish, Cort? How dare you throw this weight on the shoulders of a man who should not have to bear this. You made a mistake and now you want Papa to fix it? I cannot believe what I am hearing!”

  Surprisingly, Cort didn’t rise to his brother’s anger, but he very well could have. “When have I ever been selfish, Trenton?” he asked steadily. “When? If I recall, your behavior towards women has not been perfect, either. Have I been married four times like you have, losing wives before falling in love with Matthew Wellesbourne’s daughter and expecting Papa to convince the man to allow Lysabel to be my mistress before she was ever my wife? Well? Did I do that?”

  Trenton stiffened, his smoky eyes blazing. “Don’t you bring her into this.”

  “You did it when you called me selfish,” Cort snapped. “You haven’t exactly been a saintly example, so do not throw this back on me like I’m the only one who has ever done anything terrible to Papa.”

  Trenton’s jaw was ticking dangerously. “At least I did not do anything illegal, something that could potentially take down the House of de Russe,” he said. “How do you think Henry is going to respond to this? It’s considered treason.”

  Cort shook his head. He refused to let Trenton make him feel guilty, but he increasingly found himself fighting off exactly that – guilt.

  “I will face Henry with it,” he said. “I will take the burden alone and save your precious dukedom, Trenton. Have no fear; Henry will not strip us of our lands and Warminster will be yours when the time comes.”

  It was a low blow and Trenton stopped his angry posturing. He looked at Cort, wounded. “You did not mean what you just said.”

  Cort could see that he’d gone too far, forcing himself to avert his gaze. “Nay,” he said hoarsely. “I did not mean it. Forgive me. But I am not sorry I married her, Trenton. Say what you will about me, but I love her. Surely you understand that. I will face the consequences.”

  Trenton’s anger was cooling, turning into something sad and desperate. “You will lose everything you’ve worked for.”

  “Nothing I have worked for matters if I do not have Dera.”

  “It is quite possible that Henry will separate you two and have the marriage annulled,” Trenton said pleadingly. “That may be the only way he doesn’t punish you for being a traitor.”

  “I am not a traitor,” Cort said, sensing his brother’s fear and concern. “But I will say this; if Henry tries to punish me, I will come back to Ireland and I will fight for the Irish. I will not be loyal to a king who would destroy me because of some stupid law that is ridiculous and savage.”

  Trenton didn’t know what to say. He was so distressed that he realized he was close to tears. He loved Cort dearly. The man was strong and brave and true, but he was also in love with a woman he was forbidden to have. Much like their father had those years ago with their mother, Cort would not relinquish the woman he loved, not for the church, not for the king. Not for anyone.

  It had come to that.

  He closed his eyes tightly and turned away.

  “You asked me who told me about your marriage,” he said hoarsely. “Damon de Winter did. He heard Brend speak to you about it, evidently. Damon will tell. He will not let this go unnoticed and he will spread your secret.”

  Cort’s jaw ticked. “Not if I kill him first.”

  Trenton reached out and grabbed his arm. “Kill an earl? You will not. You will be in worse trouble that you are now.” He paused, but he kept a grip on his brother. “Cort, I know you are friends with Henry. I know that Papa has Henry under his control. But this is a battle you cannot win. Henry will not make an exception for you.”

  Cort didn’t want to hear that. “Mayhap with time he will.”

  “Are you willing to take that chance?” Trenton looked
at him. “Are you willing to return to England and present the situation to Henry and take that chance? I cannot imagine it will go well for you, not to mention the fact of how horrible a burden it will be on Papa. Don’t you understand? You cannot return home.”

  Cort’s emotions were beginning to get the better of him. “But if we keep it a secret…”

  “For how long?” Trenton said. “For the rest of your life? What of Dera? Where will she live and who will take care of her? She is Irish, but she is a ward of de Winter. He has the power to marry her off to an Irish ally. If he does not know she is married, who is to say he will not do that?”

  Cort’s jaw began ticking. “Then I will tell him so he knows.”

  Trenton shook his head. “Cort, think. You would burden de Winter with the knowledge of a secret marriage? An illegal marriage? Then you put him in the position of keeping the information from Henry and jeopardizing his position as well. Would you really do that?”

  Cort wouldn’t. He averted his gaze, realizing that this situation was already out of control. He thought he could control it, at least contain it, but with Damon having knowledge of the marriage, that more than likely would not be possible.

  “I will speak with Damon,” he said quietly. “I will explain that he must not…”

  “Damon already wants to arrest you,” Trenton said frankly. “Based on what he heard, he is ready to. Speaking to him will do no good.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?”

  Trenton looked at him; really looked at him. “Is this marriage worth it? It was done in secret. It can be annulled…”

  “We have consummated it. And it is worth everything.”

  “Even your future?”

  “She is my future.”

  Trenton put his hand to his head as if to hold in the pain that was threatening to burst forth. He turned to Cort, reaching out to pull the man into his embrace. For a moment, he simply stood there and held him.

  “When you were born, I was almost ten years of age,” he said, his throat tight with emotion. “Arica and Adeliza were crawling around and I had no interest in those smelly girl babies. And then I had a brother. I was so excited. Dane was my brother, but only by marriage. Not by blood. You were my first blood brother and I remember when Mother let me hold you for the first time. I was scared to do it but then I looked into your face and you were looking up at me with these wide, trusting eyes. I cannot explain it better than that. I knew at that moment that I would always protect you, no matter what. You are so special to me, Cortland Henry Hubert, that I cannot even tell you.”

  Cort’s eyes were filling with tears. He and Trenton were nearly the same size, two giant men embracing on the side of the road, but at that moment, Cort felt like a child again. He’d positively adored his big brother back then. He still did. He sniffled, trying very hard not to weep.

  “You went to foster when I was so young, but I remember following you and Dane around,” he said. “I have a memory of sitting with you two on the shore of the lake near Deverill, and you would jump into the water and catch silver fish that I could take back to Mother. You told her I caught them myself.”

  Trenton had his forehead against the side of Cort’s head. “I remember,” he smiled faintly. “You were very proud of them.”

  “You gave me that pride, Trenton. You always gave me that pride, that help when I needed it. I know you are trying to help me now.” He lost his battle with the tears. “I am not going to give up Dera, so tell me what I should do.”

  Trenton sighed heavily. “We must protect Papa at all costs. His health is so fragile. He will want to intervene in this if you return home and his health cannot stand it.”

  “Tell me what to do and I shall do it.”

  Trenton gave his brother a squeeze. “You must leave here, today,” he said. “The longer you remain, the more chance there is of Damon ordering your arrest. I would be powerless to help if he did that.”

  “I understand.”

  Trenton let him go. “Papa gave me Chateau Melesse last year,” he said. “You know where it is. You have been there before.”

  Cort nodded, wiping at his eyes. “In Brittany.”

  “There is also Chateau Gael and Chateau Ruffec, near Limoges.”

  “I know them both, as I have been to them both.”

  “Papa still owns Chateau Gael and Chateau Ruffec, but Melesse is mine,” Trenton said. “I want you to go there, as my garrison commander. Your marriage will be legal in France, so go there and stay there. If marriage to Dera is what you really want, then go where you can enjoy it.”

  Cort looked at him in surprise. “You would give me command of Melesse?”

  Trenton nodded. “When I become the Duke of Warminster, I will give it to you. It will become your property. It comes with the title of Baron le Chenay.”

  Cort stared at him, speechless for a moment. He was truly overwhelmed with his brother’s generosity. “Trenton, I do not know what to say,” he said. “To thank you seems wholly insufficient.”

  “Then you will take Dera and go?”

  Cort hesitated before nodding his head. “I will go,” he said. “But I must tell Papa…”

  Trenton cut him off. “I will tell Papa,” he said. “I will tell him that you married a woman you were not permitted to marry. Given that he had fallen in love with a forbidden woman, he will understand. But he will also take comfort in knowing you are safe.”

  Cort still seemed hesitant, lowering his gaze until he was looking at his de Russe tunic, the de Russe dragon shield. He fingered it lovingly.

  “You are right,” he said tightly. “I am selfish. I thought… I truly thought I could return to England and with Papa’s help, seek permission from Henry for this marriage. It’s his fault, you know. He’s the one who told me to seduce Dera to gain the secrets of the Irish rebels. He forced me to pursue the woman, but once I did, I realized she was no ordinary woman. So this is really all his fault.”

  “Is that what you were going to tell Henry?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Trenton’s lips rippled with a smile. “Then when I speak to him on your behalf, I will tell him that.”

  Cort looked at him. “You will speak with him?”

  Trenton nodded, his smile fading. “I would prefer not to burden Papa with this if we can help it. Would you agree?”

  Cort nodded with resignation. “Aye,” he said. “But what about Mother?”

  “I will tell her. She will keep it from Papa, but I should tell her.”

  Cort was back to looking at his tunic again. “Tell her… tell her I love her.”

  “I will.”

  As he looked at his tunic, tears began to pop from his eyes. Trenton reach out, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

  Cort stroked the dirty, woolen tunic. “I never wanted to bring shame to this standard but I cannot help what I feel,” he said. “Tell me I haven’t, Trenton. Tell me I have not become a traitor to the House of de Russe.”

  Trenton put his hand on the man’s lowered head. “No more than Papa did when he turned on Richard at the Battle of Bosworth,” he said. “Do not forget that Papa understands rebels and traitors. Those terms are synonymous with the de Russe name.”

  Cort looked at him, a smile on his face and tears on his cheeks. “Thank you, Trenton. For everything… thank you.”

  Trenton bent over, kissing the man on the temple. “Now, you must get out of here,” he said. “I can hold Damon off, but not for long. I want you to gather your things, including that terror of a horse, and your wife and get to Dublin. You can arrange transport to Brittany from there.”

  Cort nodded, following Trenton as the man tugged on him to get him heading back to the encampment.

  “Dera will not want to leave Brend,” he said. “It is going to be difficult for her.”

  Trenton had a grip on his brother as if fearful he would resist him. “Brend will live or die whether
or not she remains,” he said. “She must understand that. If she loves you, she will go.”

  Cort looked at him. “If Brend survives, will you do something for him?”

  “If you wish it.”

  “He loves Arabella de Winter,” he said quietly. “They have loved each other for some time. She cannot marry him because he is Irish, but if he survives this… will you make sure Denys sends Brend to France with Bella? I know it is not your battle, nor your place, but I have watched Brend and Bella struggle with the same thing Dera and I struggled with. Brend and Bella deserve to be happy, too.”

  “For you, I will do what I can. But I am more concerned with you right now, so let us be swift about this.”

  They made it back to the encampment relatively quickly, which was alive with men moving about as the morning deepened. Off to the east where they were keeping the horses corralled, Cort could see Gage astride Vulcan and the horse giving his brother a terrible time. He frowned deeply, which brought laughter from Trenton, who assured him he would save the horse from their younger brothers and ensure it was ready for travel. As Trenton headed off, Cort went into the tent where he last saw Brend.

  It was dark and warm inside, courtesy of a brazier that was burning heavily. He caught sight of Dera next to Brend’s bed along with two other men. Cort recognized them as Declan and Finn MacRohan. Dera caught sight of him as he approached Brend’s bed.

  “My lord,” she greeted him formally. “You honor us with your visit.”

  Cort forced a smile, his gaze moving between Dera and Brend. “How is Brend faring?”

  Dera stood up from the stool she’d been sitting on next to his bed. “He sleeps,” she said simply. “The physic has given him a potion called rotten tea, which is supposed to aid in keeping the poison away. The last time he awoke, I was able to give him some.”

  Cort nodded, looking down at his pale friend. “That is good to hear. We are all quite worried for him.”

  His gaze moved to the other two MacRohan brothers, who were both looking up at him. Declan, the next oldest brother to Brend, was an enormous brute with hair so blond that it was white and eyes of the purest blue. When he smiled, he had the same gap-toothed smile that Brend had. He stood up, facing Cort on his feet.