Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  For once he controlled Wales, along with all his other holdings and his massive mercenary army, which now totaled in the thousands, Lord Reginald would finally be in a position to make his final move on King Henry—and the crown itself.

  King Reginald I of England, Normandy, and Wales, with his beloved consort Queen Sabina of the Saxons at his side. He liked the sound of that.

  And once he was king of England, why not the world?

  The great, educated and wise Saracens, first his captors and then his bosom friends, were also gifted seers. They had predicted great things for Reginald, and accordingly had bestowed him with worldly gifts that had been essential in bringing him this far. And once he had Sabina at this side—native Englishwoman of a popular Saxon noble family that she was—the people of England, so long oppressed by their unpopular Norman rulers, would have no choice but to support his bid for the crown. In just a few short hours, she would finally be his.

  Everything was falling into place perfectly. It was only a matter of time.

  ****

  Tostig of York stood with his own mercenary army on the opposite side of Rye, well out of Lord Reginald’s sights. He’d been able to track the legions of the humpbacked Norman thanks to double agents, among them his old concubine Mfanwy ap Powys. Mfanwy had been good in bed, but she’d been even better as a spy. That’s why he hadn’t minded at all when that old waxworks Lord Reginald de Guillaume asked to buy out her contract. The ugly old Norman hadn’t been interested in Mfanwy’s womanly charms, anyway. Tostig figured as long as Mfanwy was going to work as one of Lord Reginald’s spies, there was no reason she couldn’t still work for him as a double agent. They’d made arrangements accordingly their last night together in bed. Mfanwy would act as a double agent under Lord Reginald, and she agreed to defer payment for her services to Tostig until Tostig was about to attack and destroy both Reginald and his mercenary armies. Once the old humpback was out of the way, Tostig would make his move on the British crown, then marry Mfanwy and make her his queen consort. With a noble Welshwoman at his side, Tostig could then march into Wales virtually unopposed. And if by chance they ran into opposition—most likely from Mfanwy’s father the Baron of Powys—they could just kill him so Mfanwy could inherit his lands. With the vast Powys principality in their hands, the rest of Wales would fall like dominos.

  It was a brilliant plan. Mfanwy had hatched most of it herself, in fact. Tostig understood just how lucky he was to have the services of a woman who was both a brilliant lover and master battle tactician. If Mfanwy had been born a man, she might well have built herself an empire with sword and shield. And as a woman, she just might do it on her wits alone.

  In any case, the noblewoman-turned-harlot/spy had made Tostig of York a very happy man, indeed. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as his breeches tightened with desire for her. He would see her tonight, once he was victorious on the field of battle. Tonight, Lord Reginald’s reign of terror and quest for the crown would be over. And tomorrow, Tostig of York and his army would march for London, with Mfanwy at his side.

  The winds of change were blowing in England. The only question was, which direction?

  Chapter 12

  Sabina and Robert sat at the rough-hewn oak dining table in the Cock and Robin’s main room, eating their dinner alone in silence. Master Cuthbert and his servant girl preferred to take their meal alone in the summer kitchen, which was a small cooking shed set apart from the main inn. Sabina had found that incredibly odd, though Robert didn’t.

  Sabina picked at her roast chicken and turnips. A loaf of fresh bread and a block of fine cheese from Cuthbert’s own cows sat untouched in the center of the table. She suddenly had no appetite, and it seemed Robert didn’t either. “What kind of host leaves his guests to dine alone?” she asked for at least the fifth time. “Robert, it just makes me feel that much worse about this place.”

  Robert sighed and pushed his chair back from the table. “Cuthbert has always preferred to eat alone, for as long as I’ve known him. It’s not odd behavior on his part. He used to do the same thing when we were serving with Sir Walter the Penniless together.”

  “Maybe it’s not odd for a soldier, but it is odd for someone who runs an inn,” Sabina scoffed. “Plus he’s got Mfanwy in there with him. I’m worried that they might be plotting something together.”

  “You’re altogether too paranoid,” Robert snapped, though his booted feet tapped nervously against the floor, showing he was just as nervous as Sabina was. “Though I suppose it couldn’t hurt to see if we can’t find out exactly what it is they’re discussing. Excuse me.”

  Robert got up from the table and stomped out of the inn. He didn’t like to admit it, but he had a growing sense that Sabina was right. Something funny was going on here. Was it possible that his old pal and confidante Cuthbert was working for the other side?

  Well, of course it was possible. Anything was possible where mercenaries were concerned. Robert knew that better than anyone. A mercenary was only as loyal as his next week’s pay. After that, all bets were off.

  Still, Robert had assumed that between his long friendship with Cuthbert and the two hundred fifty crowns—a posh purse for any soldier-for-hire—that he and Sabina would be safe here at the Cock and Robin. He knew his old colleague well enough to understand that nothing made its way to Master Cuthbert’ heart faster than a pile of gold. Robert’s instincts had never failed him before. But he supposed there was always a first time.

  He approached the summer kitchen with caution. He was thankful this part of the grounds was hard-packed and not at all muddy—he needed to keep his steps quiet and clean. He sidled up to the corner of the small wood-and-dauber building, flattened his back against the wall, and inched his way towards one of the open windows. He planned to eavesdrop there a moment or two, then jump through it and take his hosts by surprise and demand answers, by swordpoint if necessary.

  He eased his way up to the window, straining his ears to catch any small snippet of conversation. Nothing. He got closer, drew upon every one of his battle-honed senses. Still nothing.

  Fed up, Robert leapt through the open window, sword drawn. The summer kitchen was completely empty. Not even so much as a crumb or scrap of chicken bone indicated that Cuthbert or his servant girl Mfanwy had eaten a morsel there.

  His heart racing, Robert surveyed the rest of the compound. Every one of the inn’s outbuildings was deserted. He even walked the quarter-mile to the dairy barns, and found them completely empty. Even the cows were gone. Only some fresh manure and half-eaten troughs of grain indicated there had ever been any livestock there in the first place. And all the other livestock and horses were missing, too—including Amir and Arthur.

  In other words. Master Cuthbert had had the place cleared out.

  Robert knew the rules of engagement well enough to understand that meant only one thing. Master Cuthbert had betrayed them. Sabina had been right all along.

  Sabina. He’d left her alone in the inn. For how long? Ten minutes? Fifteen? More than enough time for her to be captured and carried away. He ran back to the inn, his boots barely touching the ground.

  He burst into the inn, and to his relief found Sabina still sitting there, picking at her now-cold chicken. “Pack your things,” he ordered. “We must leave here immediately. Master Cuthbert has cleared the place out. We’re probably about to be ambushed.”

  Sabina jumped to her feet. “I knew it! Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  “I did listen to you, beloved. I just didn’t take it seriously enough, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.” He went to embrace her, if only for a moment. “Hurry. We’ll have to leave on foot. Cuthbert has taken the horses. He told me they’d be in the dairy barn with his cows, but of course they aren’t.” He shook his head, gazed at the floorboards. “I have no idea how he managed to get everything and everyone out of here so quickly and quietly. He must have had help.”

  “Likely he cleared the livestock out before we even g
ot here,” Sabina remarked as she headed down to the cellar for her cloak and boots. “Someone must have tipped him off that we were coming.”

  “Yes, but who? I never told anyone where we were going except you!” Robert rubbed his temples. “Unless—unless we were being followed.” He grabbed his own cloak and leather travel bag from the bed, which contained everything they had left in the world—his remaining gold and spices and Sabina’s cache of jewels. “How could I have been so stupid! Of course we were being followed. There’s just no other explanation.”

  “No time to think about it now,” Sabina said, pushing him up the cellar stairs. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Go out the back door, by the winter kitchen,” he ordered. “We’ll have to make our way out through dense forest. We can’t risk using the bridle path, even with as overgrown as it is.”

  Sabina obeyed him without question. They ran out of the building and dashed to the forest’s edge. Sabina picked her way through the undergrowth timidly at first, but Robert had no patience for that. He scooped her up, flung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and ran into the dense forest at full speed. Thorns and brambles tore their clothes and cut their skin. A whole section of Sabina’s gown caught on a branch—Robert just ripped it off rather than waste any time detangling it.

  “Put me down at once!” she shouted, pounding him on the back with her fists. “And slow down! I’m getting torn to bits!”

  “Be quiet,” he hissed at her through clenched teeth. “Do you want to get us both killed?”

  Sabina bit her tongue, then protected her face with her hands as Robert tore through the dense forest. He finally stopped when they came across a huge fallen tree, likely hundreds of years old. A section of it was hollow. He swept out a pile of mud, leaves and other debris from the narrow hole that led inside the tree trunk. “Get inside,” he ordered.

  “But—“

  “Don’t argue. Just do it.”

  Again, she obeyed. There was barely enough room inside the hollow log for Sabina herself, and yet somehow Robert squeezed himself in behind her. Their bodies were close, impossibly close. Sabina felt like a rat in a trap. Then again, being so close to Robert under such dangerous circumstances was strangely exciting.

  “So tell me, milady,” he whispered in her ear. “What say you about this life we have chosen?”

  “It’s a bit more than I bargained for,” she admitted. “Though these past few days have brought me far more excitement than I ever thought I’d have in my entire life.”

  “Do you regret running away with me, then?”

  She leaned her head against his chest, felt his heart beating. “No, I don’t. Not for a minute.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, milady. For once we’ve had to spend a night or two out here in the woods with nothing but a hollow log to shelter us, you might think differently.” He stroked her hair. “I really must apologize for the poor quality of accommodations, milady. Though I hope that despite everything, I’m still better company than your fiancé.”

  Sabina laughed softly then. Even here in the midst of this, their most desperate moment, Robert could still find a bit of humor. No wonder she’d managed to fall in love with him. “Are all Normans as funny as you are?”

  “No, milady. Normans have no sense of humor at all, I’m afraid.”

  That just made Sabina laugh even more. “Well, that’s news to me.” She looked up at him. Only the light reflecting in his eyes was visible in the darkness. “If it all ends tonight, Robert, I shan’t regret a single minute.”

  “Good, milady. Because it could very well all end tonight, I’m afraid.”

  Chapter 13

  Lord Reginald rode up to the abandoned Cock and Robin along with his guard Brutus and a small group of soldiers. They swept the entire compound, and found nothing.

  “The entire inn is empty, Sire,” Brutus reported once a thorough search had been conducted. “Master Cuthbert and Mfanwy are nowhere to be found. Nor are your fiancé or Master Robert.”

  Lord Reginald pounded his fist against his armored thigh. “Damnation,” he swore in French. Switching back to Latin, he said, “That is an anomaly, Brutus. This is not what Cuthbert and I planned at all. Cuthbert was to remain on site, acting as host to his guests until I arrived, so as to not arouse suspicion. It seems the exact opposite has happened. That means there is more to the story than meets the eye.”

  Brutus gave him a strange look. “I’m sorry, Sire. I don’t follow.”

  “Come along Brutus, and I shall explain.” He shouted orders to the other soldiers in French, and they all fell in line behind him on their horses. “I think perhaps Master Cuthbert might have more than one iron in the fire,” he told Brutus in Latin. “I should have known.”

  “I still don’t follow, Sire,” Brutus said slowly. He wasn’t the most intelligent of men. Then again, Reginald had hired him mostly for his brawn, not his brains.

  “I believe Master Cuthbert may have been serving more than one master,” Lord Reginald explained. “That would explain why he didn’t follow my instructions. The only question is, who are the other masters? I suspect there may be several. Master Cuthbert had a known weakness for gambling, and accordingly he might have had a hard time saying no to anyone and everyone who offered him gold in exchange for his services.” He pounded his thigh with his fist again. “I made a poor choice in hiring him, ‘tis true. But nothing can be done about it now. And though he may not know it, Master Cuthbert may yet be of some use to us.”

  “How so?”

  The old Norman grinned his hideous blacktoothed smile. “Although he obviously aimed to do the opposite, I suspect he shall lead us straight to our prey.”

  ****

  Master Cuthbert sat astride Amir, the horse he had stolen from his former friend and collague Robert de Tyre. He said former because he knew that Robert would think that he had betrayed him. Nothing could be further from the truth, however. Master Cuthbert had had no choice but to flee along with everyone and everything at the inn. Cuthbert knew the way his old friend’s warrior mind operated well enough to understand that Robert would interpret his actions in a very specific way, and that interpretation would ultimately be what saved Robert and his lady’s lives.

  Cuthbert had known from the start who the lady accompanying Robert really was, of course. Lady Sabina of Angwyld was no more a Scottish noblewoman than he was a dredge mare. Lord Reginald had paid him handsomely to be on the lookout for the pair, and Cuthbert had sworn his loyalty to the old humpback at the time, thinking that no one else could possibly offer him more than Lord Reginald was. But then his old friend Robert had actually shown up, and bearing two hundred fifty crowns—more than double the purse he’d gotten from Lord Reginald in the entire past year. And even without the gold, Cuthbert knew now he’d have had a hard time betraying his friend.

  Cuthbert looked out over the horizon, his one good eye trying in vain to discern what might be coming. All he could see through the trees were low-lying smudges of dust, probably eight or ten miles off. He knew from experience that probably meant advancing soldiers. But whose? And from where?

  Cuthbert sent his best scout—Roger, a tiny stable boy of six—back through the woods to spy on the inn just before dusk. Roger was swift and agile, which when combined with his tiny stature meant he could hide almost anywhere in those woods. He managed to survey the entire inn and dairy grounds undetected, even pick up a few clues about what had happened since Cuthbert abandoned ship.

  “Lord an’ lady’re gone, guv,” Roger reported. “Horse tracks all round the place. Old Reginald’uz there, sure, ‘long with many others. But they’ve gone on, since t’ain’t nothin’ t’find.”

  “Any clues on where our guests went?” Cuthbert asked. His palms were sweaty underneath his leather gauntlets. He didn’t like not knowing where Robert and his lady were. Knowing Robert and his gift for stealth, Cuthbert could well find himself with his throat cut in vengeance before he
knew what hit him. He could only pray that he would have a chance to explain things to his old friend before that vengeance came calling.

  Speaking of vengeance, Cuthbert turned to his newest prisoner, who up until a few short hours ago had been his employee. Never in his wildest imagination would he have ever suspected that his supposedly half-blind, illiterate, and simple-minded chambermaid was really a Welsh noblewoman who also happened to be a master spy. Until he’d caught her in the act, at any rate.

  He’d tied Mfanwy to a tree with rope, then bound and gagged her with rags. She’d fought him hard, still pulled hard against her restraints, to no avail. He was a giant Yorkshireman and she was a tiny, bird-boned Welshwoman. Some contests just couldn’t be won.

  He’d discovered his servant’s true nature when he found her in the privy, writing messages in a sophisticated Latin-Greek code on birchbark, which she was preparing to give to a rough-garbed scout he’d found hiding underneath a pile of leaves. Cuthbert had no Latin or Greek, but he recognized a military scout on a mission when he saw one. He’d grabbed both the scout and Mfanwy, turned them both upside down, and started whirling the both of them over this head by an ankle apiece (something that Yorkshiremen usually did with unruly sheep) until they agreed to talk. After some more brute-fisted cajoling that included, among other things, separating both Mfanwy and her scout from all their fingernails, they both made a full confession.

  Mfanwy had two masters besides Cuthbert, it seemed. She was not only spying for Lord Reginald—an ironic assignment if there ever was one given the mess his friend Robert had managed to drag him into—she was also working for Tostig of York, and that seemed to be where her true loyalties lay. Master Cuthbert supposed if she were just a spy for Tostig, that wouldn’t be so bad—he supported Tostig’s bid to overthrow the Normans, after all. Cuthbert was in favor of any native-born Englishman who managed to kick Henry and his crew all the way back to Normandy, in fact. But even so, Mfanwy was not to be trusted. She was a double agent, and Cuthbert knew it never boded well to throw your lot in with someone who was working both sides. He’d spent his entire career doing just that, so he understood the dangers better than anyone.