Dark Warrior (de Russe Legacy Book 9)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “My sister tells us that you have been instrumental in helping Brend and that you are a great friend,” he said in his heavy Irish accent. “I would like to thank you, my lord.”

  Cort remembered Dera telling him that Declan was loyal to de Winter so he gave the man a brief nod. His gaze moved to Finn, still on the ground, who didn’t seem quite so polite. He was younger than Dera, with her red hair and pale skin, but he seemed either too traumatized or too insolent to speak. When their gazes met, Finn simply lowered his eyes and looked away.

  Perhaps it was all out of guilt.

  Whatever the case, there was no time to waste. Cort had come for a purpose. He motioned to Dera.

  “A word, please, my lady?” he said.

  She nodded swiftly and followed him out of the tent. Cort looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched as he took her by the elbow and led her around the rear of the tent, trying to find a place that was semi-private.

  “We are leaving now,” he whispered to her. “I have just spoken to Trenton and he tells me that Damon de Winter knows of our marriage and he is already speaking of my arrest, so you must gather your satchel now.”

  Dera’s eyes widened. “He knows?” she gasped. “How does he know?”

  Cort didn’t look happy. “When Brend was first wounded, he spoke of the marriage,” he said. “Damon overheard him. I knew he had, but I did not think he would pursue it. I was wrong. Trenton is sending us to his holding of Chateau Melesse in France. I am to assume my post as his garrison commander with my lovely Irish wife.”

  Dera looked frightened and was trying hard not to. “Then we really are leaving.”

  “We are.”

  “But what of Brend? He needs to be tended and…”

  He cut her of gently. “Declan can do it,” he said. “Sweetheart, I know you want to, but we cannot stay. If we do, de Winter will have me arrested for entering into an illegal marriage and I have no idea what he’ll do with you, so we have no choice.”

  Dera shook off her shock and hesitation. “Of course,” she said. “I will gather my things immediately. Where should I meet you?”

  He looked around, to the trees to the west of the encampment. “Over there,” he said. “We must take the road to Dublin and find transport from there. I will gather my things, and the horse, and find you there. But whatever you do – stay away from Damon de Winter’s tent and his knights. I have no idea what he has told them, if anything, and I cannot risk you falling into their hands because they would probably use you against me.”

  She was trying not to look fearful again. “May I say farewell to my brothers?”

  He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “They will want to know why and you cannot tell them. You must go right now to get your satchel. Do not stop to talk to anyone.”

  She was blinking back tears. “I will not,” she said. “France… we are truly going to France?”

  He smiled faintly. “France and a new life,” he said. “We can live there without fear. We knew this could happen, Dera… surely you knew.”

  She nodded. “I told you that I would go to the moon as long as we could be together,” she said. “I meant it.”

  “Good lass,” he said softly. “Now, go. Hurry. I will gather my things and meet you to the west.”

  Without another word, Dera bolted off. Cort watched her go before going about his own tasks, gathering his saddlebags and possessions, making sure he had his coin purse. He was going to need it.

  But the one thing he did was remove his de Russe standard. When he next saw Trenton, who was in the corral with Vulcan, he handed it over to the man and told him to give it to Gaston. He had nothing else to give his father other than his love and the tunic he wore proudly on behalf of the Duke of Warminster. Cort wasn’t sure when, or if, he would ever wear it again, but he wanted his father to have it. Something he’d held up against his body, something his father would touch in return.

  As he handed it over to Trenton, he tried not to weep. It was entirely possible that he would never see his father alive again and the tunic was the only thing he had of his father to remind him of the man’s great legacy. But Cort had made a choice for his life and it was to follow his heart.

  He hoped his father would understand that.

  Embracing Trenton one last time, as well as Boden and Gage, who had no real idea why he was leaving, Cort set out upon Damien de Winter’s warhorse to gather his wife and find a new life with her, away from his family, away from his beloved England. But he did not regret the decision.

  He’d made it for love.

  When Trenton told Gaston what had happened several weeks later, Gaston did indeed understand.

  And he wept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  November

  Deverill Castle

  “He’s slept with Cort’s tunic ever since,” Trenton said. “That’s the entire story, Henry. The entire story of Denys and Dillon and Dera and Brend and the battle for Mount Wrath, but most importantly, it’s the story of Cort. He chose to his heart over his service to you and everything he has worked so hard for.”

  Henry was staring at Trenton, trying to absorb what he’d been told. The pitcher of wine in his hand was empty now, as he’d downed the entire thing listening to the story of Cort and Dera. He was far calmer now than he had been when he’d first entered the solar and it took him a moment to realized he was sitting in the same spot where he’d given Cort his directive to seduce Dera MacRohan those months ago. The results of that directive were not what he expected.

  In fact, he was stunned.

  “An astonishing story, Trenton,” he finally said. “And you do not know where he has gone?”

  Trenton shook his head. “I do not,” he lied. “But I am sure he will tell you when he is ready. He will wait for your anger to abate. As I said when you entered this chamber, this situation is your fault – you sent him to seduce a beautiful woman and he fell in love with her. Cort is a man of flesh and blood and feeling, like the rest of us. You put him in a terrible position.”

  Instead of flaring this time, Henry simply lifted a hand as if to ease the man’s accusations. “You are not telling me something I have not already thought of myself,” he said. “Of course I am to blame for this. But he chose an Irish rebel over his own king.”

  “She is prettier than you are.”

  “You saw her?”

  “I did. She is beautiful.”

  Henry snorted ironically. “He accused her of being a dog in the beginning, before he even saw her. Did he tell you that? He thought I was sending him to seduce a dog.”

  “Then the joke is on him because she is not a dog.”

  Henry’s smile faded. “I never imagined Cort would do this,” he said. “The man was so fearless, so flawless in his actions. To be felled by a woman? I simply cannot believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Trenton says. “But know this; my father feels badly enough about this, so whatever you say, do not make him feel worse. Cort gave me his de Russe tunic to return to my father and, as I said, he has slept with it ever since.”

  Henry looked at him, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I should ask you how your father is, but with Wellesbourne here, I think I already know. I am afraid to ask.”

  Trenton’s composure weakened. “He is worse,” he said. “He can no longer rise from bed and his voice is nearly gone. It is a raspy whisper now. The physic says the cancer will soon overtake him, so I have summoned my brothers and sisters to Deverill. That is why Uncle Matthew has come. My father wants to bid everyone farewell in his own way.”

  “But what of Cort?” Henry said. “Cort and your father are very close. Cort would leave my ranks from time to time simply to come home and be near your father. He loves the man deeply.”

  Trenton eyed him. “I will not allow Cort to return home to his arrest,” he said. “Your Grace… if you would promise me safe passage for Cort in and out of England, I will see if I can locate him. But unless I have your
assurance that he will not be touched, I will not send for him. And that will kill my father.”

  Henry hung his head in sorrow. “The Statute of Kilkenny against the marriage between the English and Irish has been around longer than I have been alive,” he said. “That is the law to blame. I did not create it.”

  “But you are the king,” Trenton stressed. “You can pardon my brother so that he may come home and see our dying father. I might also point out that I have had my own administrators look into the Statute of Kilkenny since my brother’s marriage and although the nobility of England adheres to it, the English nobility in Ireland does not. They marry into the families of the Irish lords all the time. Were you aware of that?”

  Henry nodded in resignation. “I had heard.”

  “So my brother has not done something that others are not also doing and they are not being punished for it,” Trenton said somewhat passionately. “You say that you love my father; if you do, give him this last gift. Please, Henry. Let Cort come home without punishment.”

  “I will beg, too, if I must.”

  Both men looked up to see Remington entering the chamber. Lovely and ageless, she took Trenton’s hand when the man extended it to her. Trenton, the son she loved dearly even though she hadn’t given birth to him. He was the future of the de Russe empire, so much like his father at times that it was frightening. She smiled weakly at him as Henry rose to his feet.

  “Lady Warminster,” Henry said. “Did Matthew send you down here to keep Trenton and I from shouting at each other? We are not shouting any longer. I am sorry if we disturbed you.”

  Remington looked at the tall, good-looking young king. “You have not disturbed me, Your Grace,” she said. “But Gaston heard the sentries. You know his room faces the bailey, so he hears everything. He knows you are here, but he cannot come to you. He has asked me to invite you to his chamber.”

  Henry looked at her, taking a deep breath for courage. Then, his eyes seemed to grow moist. “I am not sure I can,” he said. “You see, I remember Gaston from when I was a very small lad. Small, indeed. He was larger than life, a knight that was immortal and powerful. Next to my own father, he is the man I admire most in the world and to see him wasting away… it was bad enough the last time I saw him. Now he is worse and I am not sure I can see him like this.”

  Remington understood. She had been dealing with the same issue since Gaston’s health took a rapid turn for the worse a couple of months ago, right about the time Trenton returned from Ireland with the story of Cort’s desertion.

  A desertion that weighed heavily on his father.

  “Worry does terrible things to a person,” she said softly. “Gaston worries over Cort. When Trenton returned from Ireland and told him what had happened, it was like watching someone blow out a candle. Something seemed to go out in Gaston. But he understands why Cort did what he did. True love is never the wrong reason; long ago, Gaston and I had to deal with a situation that was not dissimilar. We understand what it is like to love someone you cannot have.”

  Henry knew that but he was greatly torn. “Do you think it will make him feel better? Knowing that Cort will not be punished? As I said, I commanded the man into this mess. He is only a man, I suppose. But I never knew Cort to have such mortal weaknesses.”

  Remington smiled ironically. “No one knows what mortal weaknesses they have until they are faced with something they cannot surmount with logic or strength,” she said. “Your Grace, it would mean everything to our family to have Cort home. I fear Gaston may not see the new year and that will soon be upon us. He loves all of his children very much, but you know that Cort has a special place with him. He was our firstborn son together. It would mean a great deal.”

  Henry sighed faintly before standing up as if to summon his courage. “Then I will tell him that Cort is permitted to return home and he shall not face any punishment for what he has done,” he said. “Truthfully, you did not have to beg. I was going to allow him to come home, anyway. I only wish he had not run in the first place. I wish he had told me what had happened personally.”

  “That was not possible,” Trenton said. “Given the circumstances and the situation at the time, I felt that Cort was threatened, so I am the one who sent him away. It was safer that way, at least until I could speak with you.”

  Henry looked at him. “Where will you search for him if you do not know where he has gone?”

  Trenton scratched his head. “Are you truly going to pardon him?”

  “I told you I would.”

  “In writing?”

  “Aye, in writing. Do you not trust me?”

  “It is not you I do not trust, but others who will realize Cort married an Irish woman and harass him. He will need your pardon in writing.”

  “And I will give it.”

  It was a huge relief to Trenton and Remington, who looked at each other and smiled. The knowledge that Henry would personally pardon Cort was a truly great gift.

  “Then I have a confession to make,” Trenton said.

  “What is that?” Henry asked.

  “I lied. Cort is in France.”

  Henry didn’t look surprised. He shrugged as if he completely understood. “I would have lied, too.”

  “You understand I must protect Cort above all. Especially from an angry king.”

  “I do understand.” Henry shook his head, struggling to digest everything. “When I received your missive to come to Deverill, I truly was angry with Cort, but if I am to admit such a thing, I suppose I was angry with myself. I pushed Cort into this and sweetened the deal with the promise of the Collingbourne barony should he succeed. Did he tell you about that?”

  Trenton shook his head. “Nay, he did not. What’s this about Collingbourne?”

  Henry sat back in the chair, brushing the dust from his boots in an absent gesture. “I promised him the Collingbourne barony should he be successful in gleaning information from Dera MacRohan,” he said. “It is no wonder he worked so hard at this seduction. He had a barony hanging over his head.”

  Trenton chuckled. “I do not think that is why he worked so hard at it,” he said. “You have not seen Dera.”

  Henry wriggled his eyebrows. “True enough,” he said. “Speaking of Dera, what of her brother? What happened to Brend?”

  “When I left, the man was on his deathbed,” Trenton said. “Or, so I thought. We all did. But he lives, still. He remains at Mount Wrath because he is still too weak to travel, but I am told he improves. His brother, Declan, in now in command of Mount Wrath.”

  “What about Arabella de Winter? You said that she and Brend were fond of one another.”

  Trenton nodded. “I visited Narborough about a month ago to relay everything to Denys,” he said. “Denys had already sent Arabella to Mount Wrath to marry Brend. It seems he had already told the man he could marry his daughter, so she went to Ireland to nurse him back to health. Nothing heals a damaged body like the love of a good woman.”

  Henry smiled faintly, his gaze moving to Remington. “I suppose Gaston is living proof of that,” he said. “I have seen men pass away quickly from similar illness, but his love for his wife and family has kept him alive.”

  Remington smiled when their eyes met. “Go and see him, Henry,” she said quietly. “I can call you Henry because I have known you since you were born. Go and see him and tell him that you love him. Make it a good parting.”

  Henry’s smile faded. He may have been king, but he had little courage when it came to certain things. This was one of them.

  But he was only delaying the inevitable.

  “I will,” he said, rising from his chair and setting the empty wine pitcher back on Gaston’s table. He looked at Trenton. “I am sorry for yelling at you when I arrived. I did not know the entire story.”

  “Now, you do,” Trenton said softly.

  Henry nodded wearily. “Indeed, I do,” he said. “When I am finished with Gaston, I will write out Cort’s pardon. In it, I will gi
ve him my permission to marry his wife. I do not want him to think I am angry at him. At least, not angry forever.”

  Trenton chuckled. “Good,” he said. Then, he put his arm around Remington and turned her for the chamber door. “Come along. Let us go visit with my father and Uncle Matthew for a time.”

  Henry trailed after the pair, heading to the upper floors of Deverill Castle where he proceeded to spend the rest of the day, the night, and most of the next day at Gaston’s side, talking over the past, the present, and the future. Particularly Cort’s future.

  As a gift to Gaston, Henry promised to give Cort the Collingbourne barony, after all.

  He’d earned it.

  EPILOGUE

  December

  “Cort!”

  Cort was barely into the entry of Deverill Castle when his mother was hurling herself into his arms. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her as he stumbled back, knowing he plowed into his wife because he could feel her behind him, putting her hands on him to steady him.

  In his arms, his mother wept.

  “My babe,” she whispered. “You’re home. You’re finally home.”

  “I am.” Cort hugged her tightly. “Not to worry, Mother. I’m home to stay.”

  Remington held him as if afraid he were going to slip away from her. Months of fear, of not knowing where he was or how he was, had finally come to an end and she released him, cupping his face in her two hands to get a good, solid look at him.

  It was salve to her weary soul.

  “Are you well?” she asked. “You’ve not been ill or injured?”

  “I am well, I promise,” he said, smiling wearily at her. “But it has been a long ride from Winchester. We went to see Henry, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “He granted me Collingbourne,” he said. “In spite of everything, he still gave it to me.”

  Remington smiled proudly. “I know,” she said. “And you will be only a day’s ride from us now. I could not be happier, Cort, truly. It is like… like a dream. I do not want to awaken from it.”