Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  Sabina jerked awake at the sound of a commotion just outside the tent walls. She heard sudden and frantic yelling in the coarse Danish language, followed by the stomping of feet and clanking of armor and weapons. The very ground beneath her feet began to tremble, then to shake violently as if from an earthquake. But it wasn’t an earthquake at all.

  Sinister shadows began to play on the tent walls—cavalry soldiers on horseback running their swords and lances through the midsections of Tostig’s men, most of whom had been lounging next to campfires or napping in their tents just moments earlier. All around her were the horrible sounds of death—men gurgling and choking on their own blood as the enemy stabbed them through the heart, men begging for mercy or crying out for their mothers-—no matter what his native tongue, it seemed that the word upon almost any dying man’s lips was mama.

  It was an ambush. Tostig’s base camp was under attack. But by whom?

  Sabina strained her ears, trying in vain to make out what the fighting and dying soldiers around her were saying. Most of it was unintelligible; what few actual words there were drowned out by bloodcurdling shrieks, grunts, cries, and shouts, along with the crashing and ringing of sword against sword, armor against armor—all of which made up the brutal language of death.

  There were more shouts, more cries, and the ground shook even harder as hundreds of cavalry and thousands of footsoldiers took to the move in and around the camp. Sabina cowered in the chair that was her tiny prison—still tied down, she could do nothing to escape or even protect herself from the surely coming onslaught. It was obvious from the cries and moans in a rough mixture of Danish, English and French all around her that Tostig’s men were losing the battle, and losing badly. Whoever had ambushed the camp—be they friend, foe, or otherwise unknown—was sure to march into Tostig’s personal pavilion soon. They’d burst through the canvas walls, swords drawn, probably hoping to find Tostig himself inside so he could be respectfully beheaded like any defeated nobleman on the field of battle. But what would the victors do when they found her here instead? Rape her? Behead her? Carry her off to places unknown? Sabina was naïve, but she still knew enough to understand that women were war prizes just as much as gold and lands and booty were. Men went to war to gain something they and their heirs could exploit, even at the cost of their own lives, and that included women. Women were valuable property, perhaps the most valuable war booty of all. They could produce sons, provide lands by inheritance, as well as certain bodily comforts. Whether women were comfortable while providing all three was pretty much irrelevant.

  One thing was for sure—Sabina was extremely uncomfortable at the moment. She’d been tied down in the same position for hours, her bladder was full, and hand-to-hand combat between two vast armies went on just a few feet away from her on the other side of a flimsy canvas wall. It was only a matter of time before the entire world came crashing down around her, quite possibly taking her with it.

  Whatever happens, please let it be over quickly, she prayed silently to herself.

  As if on cue, a strange loud erupted from the south side of the pavilion. It seemed far away at first, then gradually grew closer and closer, until Sabina thought she recognized what it was.

  There was the sound of stomping hooves, lowing, and—cowbells?

  Sabina’s father had raised hundreds of cattle on his Angwyld estates, and she knew the sound of a cattle stampede when she heard one. And it was headed straight for her.

  Sabina cast her eyes heavenward. Of all the ways she could leave this world, was her end really going to be underneath a cattle stampede? Was this God’s idea of a joke? Or perhaps divine punishment for her willful disobedience? She supposed she’d never know.

  Sabina closed her eyes, held her breath, and waited for the inevitable to happen.

  The herd of cattle tore through the battlefield, catching both sides off guard, even knocking many of the soldiers over. Two of Tostig’s men got gored by a bull, while three of Lord Reginald’s men got trampled. It wasn’t complete chaos, however—anyone watching the melee from above could see that the cows were obviously being driven to stampede in a very specific pattern, with a very specific heading.

  The lead cattle ran straight for Tostig’s pavilion, tore through its walls—and stopped dead in their tracks.

  Sabina slowly opened her eyes, and stared straight into a black-and-white Jersey cow’s face. The cow lowed, licked her softly on the nose, then went back to chewing its cud. Meanwhile the battlefield around them had come to a near-standstill as soldiers from both sides stopped to stare,

  “What on earth—“ Sabina said to the empty air. “Now I really have seen everything.”

  Well, not quite. One of Tostig’s soliders rode up, his face completely hidden by a black helmet. He leaned down, slashed the ropes tying Sabina’s hands and feet with one flick of his short sword, scooped her up like a sack of grain, and rode off.

  Sabina didn’t struggle. She didn’t scream. She was well past the point of fighting back. At this point, she just wanted everything to be over with. And with any luck, the soldier that had carried her off like a prize would take her life shortly after having his way with her. It would really be best for all concerned that way, after all.

  They rode on for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a few minutes. The rider brought his horse to a stop at the top of a high ridge about a mile away from the main battlefield. The battle raged on below them as before, but for the moment, they were safe.

  For the moment. Surely that wouldn’t last.

  The masked rider set Sabina down gently on her feet, then dismounted his horse.

  “Are you all right, milady?” a familiar voice asked. Then he removed the mask.

  It was Robert.

  “Well, milady, you are rescued, thanks mostly in part to Master Cuthbert’s herd of dairy cows.” He ran a hand through his tousled, sweaty locks. “I must say, that was probably the most unconventional battle plan I’ve ever tried. And it actually worked. Though I must apologize if the stampede startled you at all.”

  Sabina flung her arms around his neck and covered him with kisses. “Never mind that,” she said when she finally came up for air. “It was worth it. And tell Master Cuthbert that he should really send his cows into battle more often.”

  “I will,” Robert smiled, returning her kisses with equal fervor. “Though Cuthbert swears that he’s retiring for good after today. At least after he’s turned Mfanwy in to the King’s guards for spying. Cuthbert has no love for King Henry, but he’ll still fetch a fine bounty for her.”

  “I take it that means you and Cuthbert have made up?” Sabina asked, puzzled. “Why? And how?”

  “That’s kind of a long story. Suffice to say that Cuthbert was looking out for us all along.”

  They embraced each other again, then turned and watched the battle rage below arm-in-arm. Lord Reginald’s forces still appeared to be winning, but Tostig’s men had managed to reorganize and it was anyone’s battle now. “We’re not out of the woods yet, you know,” Robert said. “A lot is going to depend on how that battle down there turns out.”

  Sabina leaned her head on Robert’s shoulder. “I know. Here’s hoping Lord Reginald surrenders.”

  “He’ll have to do more than just surrender. He’ll have to die. And even then, your father might try to marry you off to someone else. Like Tostig.”

  Sabina scoffed. “Not if I can help it. Perhaps we should just sail for Calais and be done with it.”

  “Lord Reginald can follow us to Calais. So can Tostig.”

  Sabina broke away from him and stared out over the horizon. “What business does Tostig have with me anyway?”

  “You were his prisoner. He might want to take you back. And to the winner go the spoils.”

  Sabina studied the battle raging below. Now it seemed to be at a draw, yet both sides fought on. “What if neither side wins?”

  “Then I would say you and I are in the clear. Unless your fa
ther gets any other matchmaking ideas for you, of course.”

  “Why do you keep on referring to my father that way? Maybe after all that’s happened, he’ll respect my wishes and let me make my own choices.”

  Robert sighed. “You think far too highly of your father, Sabina. I know you think he loves you, but in truth he views you as property to be auctioned off.”

  Sabina’s jaw dropped. “How dare you speak of my father that way!”

  “It’s the truth and you know it.”

  Sabina’s lower lip quivered. As much as it hurt to hear it, she knew that Robert was right. “I—I always thought Papa was different,” she said. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see the best in people, Sabina. You’re an optimist. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “I suppose I’ve always known Papa would do what was expected of him in the end, and expect me to do the same. I just didn’t want to believe it, is all. Growing up, I was Papa’s favorite. He doted on me, read to me, taught me Latin and Greek, made me think that I was as good as a man. I guess I was wrong to think it was the truth.”

  “Your father is no different from any other nobleman in England,” Robert replied, taking Sabina’s hands in his. “He’s just trying to hold on to what he has. I’m sure he’s terrified he’s going to end up a landless peasant, or dead. You’re the only thing he has to bargain with, whether it’s with the Normans or anyone else.”

  All at once, Sabina’s face lit up. “You know what? That gives me an idea.”

  Chapter 19

  “What makes you think this plan of yours is going to work?” Robert said as they rode side-by-side through the meadows towards the tiny town of Rye. Robert had retrieved Amir and the rest of his belongings from Cuthbert, and Sabina again rode Arthur, who had gotten some much-needed rest under the care of Cuthbert’s stableboy.

  “I know my father,” Sabina replied. “And I know him better than you think I do. If the money doesn’t convince him, then the fact you’re a noble Norman will.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Robert scoffed. “Just a few minutes ago you were talking about him like he was an enlightened philosopher. And my status as a Norman nobleman is somewhat precarious at present, especially if Tostig wins the day at Rye. And even if he doesn’t, I have no title, and my estate in Normandy is worth about as much as a whore’s virtue.”

  “Land is land. And Norman noble blood is Norman noble blood. You have gold and spices, too. It’s enough. Besides,” Sabina said, her eyes twinkling, “it’s not as if he has the power to annul a lawful marriage made in God’s house.”

  “Never say never,” Robert said with a laugh. “Many a parish priest has been known to rip a page out of the church register if the bribe is big enough.”

  “My father would never bribe a priest. He’s a good Catholic.”

  “If you say so. Mind you, I’m planning to bribe the priest to perform the ceremony without your father’s consent.”

  “Oh, I’d consider that more of a donation,” Sabina chirped with a smile.

  “Whatever you want to call it, a bribe is still a bribe, milady. Let’s just hope they’ll let us in the church at all. We’re hardly presentable. The both of us look like the mud-covered spawn of hell.”

  “Everyone is welcome in God’s house,” Sabina retorted. “And if not, there’s always my mother’s jewels.” At that, Robert laughed raucously. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  “Because you’re starting to think like a mercenary. Seems I’ve been a bad influence on you.” He brought Amir to a stop for a moment, then reached out and took Sabina’s hand. “I suppose that makes you a mercenary bride.”

  Sabina smiled. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  They rode on to Rye and its tiny parish church. The parish priest was hesitant to marry them at first, but swiftly changed his mind at the sight of a handful of Robert’s gold.

  “Our marriage comes via the benevolence of Lord Reginald’s own purse,” he whispered to Sabina as they approached the altar. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “I pray to God he doesn’t find out,” she whispered back. “Then we’re both done for.”

  “With any luck, he’ll be dead by sundown. And if not, at least we’ll die as man and wife.”

  The priest’s eyes narrowed and he shushed them. “There will be no talk of death in God’s house,” he snarled, and then extended his palm. Robert put another gold coin into it, and the priest began the bridal benediction in Latin.

  They were married quickly; the priest bypassed the full-length marriage mass and Communion at Robert’s behest. They both signed the church register, and the priest placed his seal in hot wax on the marriage certificate, then handed it Robert. “Pacis exsisto vobis,” he said, doing the sign of the cross in the air over their heads. Then he switched to English. “The inn across the road has rooms,” he said. “And baths. I suggest you both take one before consummating the marriage. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

  “That’s all right, Father,” Robert said. “The marriage has already been consummated. We’re just taking care of the paperwork.”

  The priest reddened. “Get out of here, both of you,” he snarled. “And come to confession on Saturday.”

  “We shall, Father. Thank you.” He and Sabina exited the church, arm-in-arm and giggling.

  “So, Your Ladyship, fill me in on England’s laws of inheritance. What happens when a titled Saxon lady marries an untitled Norman mercenary? Does that mean you lose your title? Or do I gain it?”

  “A little of both,” Sabina replied. “I’ll have Papa explain when we see him.”

  “How do you think he’ll take the news?”

  “I don’t know.I guess we’ll find out.”

  They rode back to the ridge overlooking the battlefield. The fight was still at a draw, but still close to being over. Most of the soldiers lay either dead or gravely wounded upon the meadow floor. Only a few cavalrymen and footsoldiers on both sides continued the melee—Tostig and Lord Reginald among them.And Sabina’s father the Duke of Angwyld continued to fight on horseback, too—though it wasn’t entirely clear which side he was on anymore.

  “Well, your father’s still alive,” Robert remarked. “And he seems to be bringing up Tostig’s right flank, oddly enough. Any chance he’s had a change of allegiance?”

  “I suppose anything’s possible,” Sabina replied.

  They crept closer to the edge of the ridge, hoping for a better view. One by one the footsoldiers and cavalrymen fell, until it was only Tostig, Lord Reginald, and the Duke alone on the battlefield.

  Tostig said something to Lord Reginald that neither Robert nor Sabina could hear. Just as he raised his sword to strike, Lord Reginald ran him through with his lance, then laughed his trademark sinister guffaw loud enough for it to ring off the surrounding hillsides. He gloated so over his victory that he didn’t notice that the Duke had shifted his horse’s position so he was diagonal to the humpback’s rear and in his blind spot.

  Lord Reginald took off his helmet, laughed even harder. The Duke saw his opportunity, and took it.

  With one swift blow of his broadsword, The Duke of Angwyld beheaded Lord Reginald de Guillaume.

  Robert and Sabina could hardly believe their eyes. “I told you Papa was different!” Sabina cried once she’d recovered her senses. “I told you!”

  “And I believe you now. God bless His Grace’s courage.”

  Sabina dismounted Arthur and ran down the hillside to meet her father, who greeted her with outstretched arms. “Papa! Papa!” she cried, embracing him. “Why? Why did you do it?”

  The Duke held his eldest daughter close, and took a few moments of silence before answering. “I realized that some things are more important than lands and titles,” he finally said. “Like my daughter’s happiness. Lord Reginald will never terrorize you, me, or anyone else ever again.”

  “Oh, Papa! Thank you! Thank you so much!” Sabina broke aw
ay from his embrace and took her father by the hand. “Come, Papa. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  The Duke sheathed his broadsword and followed his daughter to the far side of the meadow, where Robert stood waiting. “Papa, I’d like you to meet my husband, Robert de Tyre.”

  Robert bowed, then extended his hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

  The Duke glanced back and forth from Sabina, to Robert, and back again. “Your-your husband? But why? How? When did this happen?”

  “Just this afternoon, Papa, in the parish church in town. We are lawfully man and wife. And what God hath joined—“

  “—let no man put asunder,” the Duke finished for her. “So be it, then. Sabina, Robert, I offer you both my congratulations.”

  Sabina’s eyes widened. “That’s all, Papa? You are not angry?”

  The Duke sighed and gazed heavenward. “Perhaps yesterday I would have been. But today I am a changed man. I do believe your mother sent me a message from heaven this day, reminding me of the importance of love in marriage. And fatherly love most of all. Lord Reginald was an evil man, but knowing him has taught me an important lesson. There are things upon this earth more important than land and titles.”

  “You are a great man, Your Grace,” Robert said. “To do what you have done takes great courage, especially now.”

  “Yes, Robert, you are right. I am afraid that my days in England may be numbered.”