Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  “Sabina? Are you willing to give them up or not? Our lives might depend on it, you know.”

  Sabina bit her lip and nodded. If she was willing to give them to Glastonbury in exchange for cloister, she might as well be just as willing to give them to anyone else. She handed the jewelry box over to him.

  “Good.” He fingered the fine rosewood box with its gold inlay. “The box is valuable too. We’ll hang onto it separately. It might come in handy as well.”

  “I’d like to keep it if I can,” Sabina murmured. “It was my mother’s.”

  “We’ll see.” Robert steered Amir further ahead of Sabina and Arthur until he came to the top of a small hill. He looked out over the horizon, which was full of rising storm clouds. “A storm’s blowing in from the sea,” he said. “Looks like it could be a bad one. Though I’d rather not risk staying in a town, we won’t be able to camp outside through that kind of weather. And we won’t find any caves in this part of the country, either, I’m afraid.”

  “Then where shall we go?”

  Robert paused to think. “A former colleague of mine owns a small merchants’ tavern not far from here. We served in a garrison together, back when I was working for Sir Walter the Penniless just before he left on Crusade. I think we can trust him to keep our secret for us—for a price, of course.”

  “Sir Walter the Penniless?” Sabina asked. “I think I’ve heard of him. Wasn’t he the one that led the commoners’ Crusade? The one that didn’t require anyone to make a fealty gift to Rome?”

  “Right you are,” Robert said, riding onward. “That Crusade army is the only one that will accept common peasants. Sir Walter the Penniless is its supreme commander, though calling himself ‘The Penniless’ is a bit of a misnomer. He may not be of noble blood, but he’s as rich as a king. I’ll give you three guesses how he earned his fortune.”

  “Hmm. Let me see. Mercenary work?”

  “Indeed, milady. Sir Walter spent some time in the Holy Land doing reconnaissance for the Templars, before the Crusades began in earnest. He managed to stumble upon a very lucrative spice trade network while there, captured it for his own, and secured a king’s ransom in pepper and saffron. Sir Walter has more spice holdings than any man in Europe, which is the main source of his wealth. Though I suppose if you look at it a certain way, ‘The Penniless’ is an appropriate name, since Sir Walter doesn’t carry gold or silver, or almost any kind of coin on his person. He pays for everything in spices.”

  “Even you, I suppose?”

  “Yes, milady, even me. Though I was only in Sir Walter’s employ for a short time, so I didn’t have a chance to earn more than a few peppercorns. My colleague, Master Cuthbert, did far better. He traded his pay for a very prosperous tavern and attached dairy farm, both of which he now runs for a tidy profit. One of the reasons his tavern is so successful is it’s a very, shall we say, discreet place for meeting and doing business. In other words, it’s perfect for us.” He brought Amir to a stop, looked back over his shoulder at Sabina. “Though I should probably warn you that we must both be very careful. Master Cuthbert’s tavern can be a little rough. That kind of establishment has a tendency to attract some rather—ahem—interesting characters, if you take my meaning, milady.”

  Sabina wasn’t at all sure what Robert meant by that remark, but she was certain she was about to find out.

  Chapter 10

  Just outside the town of Rye in West Sussex, later the same day.

  Dusk was falling, and a light rain fell as Robert guided Amir down a narrow, overgrown bridle path that jutted off from the main highway. Sabina could see the few small thatched-roof hovels that made up the tiny provincial town of Rye in the foggy distance, along with the single stone tower that served as the Earl of West Sussex’s castle keep. They couldn’t be more than a mile or so from town. Why did Robert suddenly want to ride through the woods?

  Robert rode Amir a few yards into the tangled undergrowth and stopped. “Are you coming, milady? I know you don’t care for riding through pathless forest, but Master Cuthbert’s is less than a mile from the forest’s edge. And Cuthbert’s only guests are those who know how to find his inn through the undergrowth. He doesn’t advertise. We shall be perfectly safe there, I promise you.”

  “If you say so,” Sabina murmured as she forced Arthur into the woods. Arthur hated thick leaves and brambles, and this bridle path—if you could even call it that—had plenty of both. Arthur took three or four steps, then refused to go any farther. “Is there any way to get to this place besides through trackless woods? Arthur refuses to take another step.”

  Robert rolled his eyes and dismounted Amir. “There’s nothing I can’t stand more than a stubborn horse. Methinks we shall have to get you a new mount, milady. Arthur just isn’t holding up.”

  “But I love Arthur! He’s my father’s best horse!”

  “Your father’s best horse has seen better days, milady. Fifteen days’ riding through rough wet country is enough to tax any horse, save an Arabian like Amir. You can ride Amir the rest of the way. I’ll handle Arthur.”

  He helped her down from Arthur’s back and up onto the massive Arabian. As much as she hated to admit it, Sabina knew Robert was right. Arthur wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he wasn’t accustomed to long days of travel in poor conditions, either. Arthur had once been her father’s favorite battle steed, but that was long ago.

  Sabina wasn’t sure of the way to this mysterious Master Cuthbert’s tavern, but that didn’t seem to matter since Amir seemed able to detect the boundaries of the overgrown bridle path as if by instinct. Meanwhile, Robert dragged Arthur forward by his bridle and bit, all the while whispering soft commands in French. Sabina didn’t fathom why he did that—Arthur didn’t understand a word of French—but nevertheless, it seemed to work. Soon Arthur was following steadily along behind her, with nary a whinny or head-shake at Robert’s firm lead.

  After about twenty-five minutes of walking through the heavy brush, they came upon a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing was something that could best be described as a filthy hovel. A two-story hovel, to be sure—but still a hovel. A faded sign hung from the eaves that read “Master Cuthbert’s Cock and Robin” in childlike lettering. Some scraggly-looking chickens wandered in the packed-down dirt yard, and a mud-caked pig rooted in the ground inside a three-sided pen set against one wall. A muddy path that looked to be paved mostly with cow manure led deeper into the woods—the scent of cow filth and sour milk wafting from that end of the forest seemed to indicate a dairy farm of sorts was hidden somewhere behind the trees. The only other structure in site was an overflowing privy that had only a rough-hewn screen of half-rotted wood for privacy.

  This was where they were staying? The very thought of it made Sabina sick to her stomach. Robert and Arthur emerged from the brambles a moment later. Robert tied Arthur to a rotten post and surveyed the surroundings. “Well, it seems Master Cuthbert hasn’t been investing much in maintenance,” he observed. “That could be a good thing, or it could be a bad thing.”

  Sabina found the entire place positively revolting. Camping out in the open under risk of bandits and torrential downpours was surely a better option than this. “What do you mean, it could be a good thing? This place is worse than the pits of hell! I’ve never seen such filth and squalor in my life.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive, milady,” Robert said. “As I said, Master Cuthbert runs his tavern in a fashion that it won’t draw attention to itself. You might be surprised at what awaits us inside. Come on.”

  He helped her down from his horse, then tied Amir to the same post where he’d stabled Arthur. The minute Sabina’s slipper hit the ground, she sank ankle-deep in mud and manure. “Robert, this is disgusting. I refuse to stay another minute.”

  “And where do you propose we go, milady? Rye? There’s not much there at all, and Rye is a Norman stronghold that is likely to be crawling with soldiers and agents who will give away our whereabouts to Lo
rd Reginald in a blink of an eye. Hastings is only a half-day’s ride away, you know. And Hastings is where my people took over this whole island in the first place.”

  “You needn’t remind me,” Sabina snarled. “It’s bad enough I abandoned all I hold dear in order to run off with a Norman, and a mercenary at that.”

  “It’s not too late to change your mind about us, milady,” Robert said with a wicked grin. “I’m sure that Lord Reginald will still have you, although he might be more than a bit dismayed by the fact you’re no longer a virgin. But you’d have to find your own way back to Angwyld. If the humpback ever lays eyes on me again, I’m a dead man.”

  “You aren’t helping,” Sabina shot back as she tried to wade her way through the thick mud. Every step she took seemed to swallow her whole. “This Master Cuthbert couldn’t possibly have that many guests. It’s almost impossible just to make it to his front door.”

  As if on cue, the pockmarked, muddy wooden door of the hovel-slash-inn swung open on creaky wooden hinges. A massive man—Sabina swore he had to be at least seven feet tall—stood behind it. He had a thick shock of wild red hair, and wore the rustic brown clothes of a Yorkshireman. His breeches were lashed tight to his powerful legs with leather thongs, and he wore leather arm, shoulder, and breastplates that were heavily scarred with sword and arrow marks. His beard was long and matted, and just as red as his hair. A long line of ragged scar tissue ran down the entire left side of his space, crossing even his eyelid. Upon closer inspection, Sabina saw that his left eye was missing—and he wore no eyepatch to hide that fact for politeness’ sake, either. Here was a man who had clearly spent much of his life in the heat of battle, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

  Robert bounded right up to the man, and they embraced and patted each other on the back like old friends. This scarred, wild-looking mountain of a man had to be none other than Master Cuthbert, who supposedly would guarantee their safety. But somehow Sabina didn’t feel very safe in the rough man’s presence. Quite the contrary, in fact.

  “Why, if it isn’t Robert de Tyre? Whatever brings ye to this hellhole, lad? And with a lady, no less! Not like ye to travel with the fair sex. What news d’ye bring?” He elbowed Robert in the ribs and grinned. “And, more importantly, what gold?”

  “I’ve brought you plenty of both, old friend. But there’ll be plenty of time for that.” Robert turned back to Sabina and made formal introductions. “Cuthbert, this is the Lady Sabina, though her formal, ahhh, title is Lady McDonough of Glasgow. I’m travelling under the name Lord McDonough for Lady Sabina’s protection. Sabina—er, Lady McDonough—this is my dear old friend Master Cuthbert.”

  Cuthbert bowed deeply. “A pleasure, milady. I’d take your hand, but I’ve just finished gutting a chicken.”

  Sabina blinked. Master Cuthbert was a rough man indeed. “Well, ahh, thank you all the same, Master Cuthbert.”

  The huge man gave her another slight bow, then turned his attentions back to Robert. “What brings you to these parts, Robert? Last I heard you were in service to Lord Reginald in Essex.”

  “My work for Lord Reginald takes me far and wide,” was Robert’s cryptic reply.

  Master Cuthbert gave him an odd look then, which Robert didn’t seem to notice. But Sabina did, and it made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. Robert might feel perfectly safe and comfortable here, but she didn’t. She had a very bad feeling about the whole situation, in fact. She made a note to have a serious talk with him about it the moment they were alone.

  Their scraggly host ushered them inside the low-ceilinged hovel that passed as an inn. Once they were past the main entryway, however, the place was startlingly comfortable. Even if the outside of the tavern was ramshackle and dirty, the inside was sturdy and clean. The walls were freshly whitewashed with lime, and the floors were polished oak. The furniture was simple, yet well-made of fine maple and coated with good varnish. There were even some expensive-looking tapestries hanging on the wall opposite the large dining table. A heavy stone fireplace filled almost the entire south wall of the main room, and a cozy fire crackled there. Cuthbert tossed another log onto it as he passed, and soon a pleasant sweet woody aroma filled the room. “Applewood,” he explained as he took their dirty boots and showed them to two comfortable chairs. “I always throw a log or two of it on when I have guests. It smells pleasant when it burns, helps cover up the stench of the cows a bit.”

  “Much obliged, Cuthbert,” Robert said, stretching his tired legs out in front of him. “Your place is as comfortable as ever. Though I see you’ve let the outside go a bit since my last stay. Any particular reason for that? I certainly hope you aren’t feeling a pinch.”

  Master Cuthbert washed his dirty hands in a small stoneware basin that sat on a ledge built into the plaster wall. “No, Robert, quite the contrary. Business is good. Very good. But it’s also sometimes of a sensitive nature, which means it helps to draw as little attention to the place as possible. My only guests are ones who have specific business here. Everyone else either doesn’t know the Cock and Robin exists, or if they do, they give it a wide berth.” He dried his hands on a rag and sat down on a stool beside the hearth. “And since you’re here, Robert, I suspect it’s because you have business with me, though I shudder to think what it might be given ye’ve been in Lord Reginald’s employ these many years. How can I help ye, lad?”

  “I’m not looking for anything much, Cuthbert. Just a quiet, out-of-the-way place for Lady McDonough and I to stay for a night or two—and no questions.”

  Cuthbert’s bushy red eyebrows raised. “No questions, eh? Ye haven’t gotten yourself into any kind of trouble, have ye lad?”

  “None that you need worry about,” Robert said, a slight edge to his voice. “I’ll pay you handsomely for your silence, Cuthbert. As always, I know you can be discreet, especially when the price is right.”

  “My price is a bit higher than it once was, Robert,” Cuthbert said, his expression hardening. “We’re in the heart o’ Norman country here, and it’s gotten a lot harder for a redheaded Saxon from the North of England to go unnoticed here of late. What are ye offering, lad?”

  Robert reached into his doublet and took out a heavy velvet pouch—the very same pouch that Lord Reginald had given him in deposit on his assignment to recover Sabina. “Two hundred fifty crowns.That’s more than enough for you to live on for a year or more, with or without the inn or any other—ahem—activities you might have going on.”

  Cuthbert’s one remaining eye nearly popped out of his head. “A princely sum indeed, Robert,” he said, his Yorkshire accent growing ever thicker with excitement. “But why so exorbitant a sum, lad? I’d have settled for half that.”

  “You give yourself away, my friend,” Robert said as a way to avoid the question. “Did I teach you nothing when it comes to the art of negotiation?”

  Cuthbert clapped his massive freckled hands together and laughed. “There’s no getting past ye, eh Robert? Two hundred fifty crowns it is. And no questions. Other than how long ye might be staying. I’m due to have a number of rather, shall we say, unseemly guests arriving day after tomorrow for some business. Business of the sort I’m not certain a lady as lovely and civilized as Lady McDonough here would have much of a tolerance for, even if she does hail from Glasgow.”

  “I should think we’ll be out of your hair well before then, Cuthbert,” Robert replied. “Provided the weather clears and we can arrange passage across the Channel.”

  “The channel, eh? Going to see yer mum on the old estate then, eh Robert? Maybe introduce the lady round Normandy as the new daughter-in-law, perhaps?”

  “I said no questions, Cuthbert,” Robert snapped, his voice harsher than Sabina had ever heard it before. She glanced from Robert to Cuthbert, and back to Robert. Both men had instinctively placed their hands on their sword hilts, whether out of habit or sinister intentions, Sabina had no idea. One never knew with mercenaries and their hair-trigger tempers, after all.
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  Cuthbert grinned, slapped his knee, and laughed. He took his sword out and used it to cut a lock of hair from his beard. Robert immediately relaxed and joined in the laughter.

  “Aw, Robert, ye know I’m just playing tomfoolery, lad,” Cuthbert said. He handed Robert the lock of hair.“My beard is my bond, Robert, just like in the good old days.”

  “Just like the good old days. I’m much obliged, Cuthbert.”

  “Not at all. For two hundred fifty crowns, I couldn’t care less what yer up to. Though I do wonder if perhaps ye’ve gotten in over your head, lad. But that’s none of my business.” Cuthbert stood up and stretched. “My housemaid and I were just out in the summer kitchen preparing dinner. We weren’t expecting anyone to join us, so I might as well go out and kill another chicken. But I’ll show you to your room. Since stealth seems to be of the utmost importance to the both of you, I’ll set you up in our cellar suite.”

  Sabina gasped. “The cellar?“

  Robert shot her a warning look, but Cuthbert raised his hand. “’Tis all right, Robert. Milady, I assure you, our cellar suite is by far our most comfortable room. And our most private. Follow me.”

  He guided them down a narrow hallway that ended at a trapdoor set in the floor. Cuthbert lifted the trapdoor, revealing a set of narrow stone stairs leading downward. He took a tin lantern from the wall and shone it down the stairs. “There you are,” he said. “Take the lantern with you. There are plenty of candles and oil lamps down there, use the lantern to light them. I’ll have the housemaid bring down a tub of hot water for washing. Dinner should be in an hour or so.”

  With that, Cuthbert turned on his heel and walked back to the front of the inn.