Lords of the Kingdom

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Lady Gwenth voiced her objections with a heavy sigh.

  Hope lifted a large floppy ear to whisper. “Do you not wish to find a special mate?”

  The dog grumbled her response.

  Hope hugged her own slim waist. “I dream of finding a man. An ordinary man who wishes to love as deeply and strongly as I do. Foolish dreams, I suppose.”

  Lady Gwenth agreed with a loud yawn.

  Hope stood. “I must do this, Lady Gwenth, or else I will forever regret not taking the chance.”

  Hope hurried over to the large bed, slipped out of her night shift and continued speaking to the large dog who kept one eye focused on her. “I snatched these garments from the stable lad. I did, of course, leave him sufficient compensation to cover his loss, but I required a good disguise for our trip. And since I barely stand three inches over five feet—” She paused and glanced with disappointment down at her small breasts. “And possess a body that barely resembles a female, it was a simple decision to choose a young lad’s disguise. And besides, who would think me audacious enough to attempt such an outrageous feat? All who know me describe me as the perfect young lady, which makes me perfectly boring and perfectly predictable.”

  Lady Gwenth opened her eyes to watch as Hope pulled on dark stockings over petite, slender legs. “If the remainder of my life is to be boring then I must fill it with a bit of adventure and store the lasting memories so that I may recall and savor them in my old age.”

  Lady Gwenth yawned and dropped her head to rest on her cushion, though her big, brown, concerned eyes remained fixed on Hope.

  A worn brown linen tunic covered the stockings to her knees. “Perhaps I am being foolish, and yet …” Hope sighed and shook her head. “Yet I feel this need to explore, search and find …” Another shake of her head and another sigh. “Life is out there, Lady, I feel it as sure as I feel the cool night air rush across my warm skin. It reaches out to me, urges me, and I must go.”

  Hope lowered herself to kneel beside Lady. She cupped the dog’s large face in her small hands, the heavy jowls hanging off her palms. “I must have my adventure no matter how foolish my dream.”

  Hope stood and secured the loose tunic with a braided cloth belt. “Now all that is left for me to do is to cut my hair.”

  Lady Gwenth raised her head.

  Hope sighed and ran her fingers through the silky strands of her dark hair. It was her pride and joy, hanging straight to her tiny waist. She combed it herself every night, keeping the rich brown color shiny, and it pained her to reach for the sharp bladed knife on the bed. “I am afraid it is necessary for my disguise.”

  Lady Gwenth whimpered.

  “My hair will grow back,” Hope said, though tears stained her eyes, and before she could give her foolish actions serious thought, she grabbed hold of her long, straight hair and sliced a section off at her shoulder.

  Lady Gwenth whimpered loudly and dropped her head to her cushion.

  “It is done,” Hope said with a quiver to her soft voice. She finished the difficult task with quick, steady strokes and when finally done she ran her slim fingers through the short strands. It felt strange with her long tresses gone, but then she had made a choice, and she intended to do what was necessary.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and chewed at her nails while she cast tearful eyes around her room. She had spent many happy years here. Uncle Shamus and Aunt Elizabeth had been good to her, caring for her as their own after her parents’ untimely death when she was barely eight. And the marriage they had arranged for her was a worthy one, but a loveless one, and though she could not explain it even to herself, she wanted to know love. Foolish dreams yet again, but what was there to life if one never knew true love? She did not wish always to wonder whether it truly existed. She wished to experience its passion and tenderness. Its pain and sor-row. Its joy. But most of all its simplicity, for only true love could be that chaotic and yet so simple.

  Her ancestry had afforded her a claim to a mighty heritage, and while she would not forsake her duties, she wished, if only for a few weeks, to taste the wonders of life and perhaps the simplicity of love. Then she would do as was expected of her. She would marry a stranger and bear him children.

  But first she would have her adventure.

  Chapter One

  Colin eased away from the eager mouth but not before squeezing the woman’s bare, ample backside. Another squeeze, a gentle kiss, and he was on his feet and slipping into his clothes.

  “It is a rogue and charmer you are,” the woman said with a teasing smile that made her pretty, full face appear beautiful, and Colin did not waste the precious moment.

  He leaned over and grabbed her chin with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver of desire racing through her. “Nellie, only a beauty like you could thoroughly please a rogue and a charmer like me.” He kissed her then, roughly, before gentling his lips and stealing her breath along with her heart.

  A disappointed sigh preceded her words. “Do you have to go?”

  “As much as I would love to remain here with you, I have my duty to my lord.”

  She nodded knowingly and appeased her disappointment by watching him dress. Her dark eyes lingered over every lean, hard line of him. He stood a good six feet tall, perhaps an inch or two over, and though not broad and thick in size, he possessed a defined hardness to his muscles that large men lacked. Taut muscles ran over his midriff and down his stomach, making one wonder whether, if he took a blow to his middle, it would not be the fist that received the damage.

  His long legs possessed that same defined muscular structure, and then there was his … She giggled, caressing his manhood with her eyes. It was large and thick, and oh so pleasing, and he knew exactly how to please a woman. He was a master of the craft. A charming rogue with good looks to match and a golden tongue that could talk, tease or tempt any woman into sin. But then she was a sinner herself—and there was always confession.

  Nellie reluctantly left her warm, tousled bed, taking the memories with her. She dressed in haste, dropping a loose-fitting gown made of soft green wool over her head and gathering it at the waist with a thin leather belt. She donned a pair of worn sandals and walked over to Colin, who had finished dressing in a dark red tunic, dark stockings and leather boots. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, smiled at her approach, then spread his arms wide.

  Nellie ached with the want of him as his arms enfolded her and hugged her fiercely to him.

  “It is good memories of you I will be taking with me, lass, and be ever grateful for them.”

  Nellie kissed him soundly and hurried out of his arms and toward the door. “It will be fresh bread and cheese, enough for you and your men, that you will be taking with you, Colin.”

  Colin’s expression turned serious. “I seek no compensation from you for our enjoyable time together.”

  Nellie appreciated his words more than he would ever know, for she instinctively knew he spoke the truth. “Aye, and I thank you for that, but I offer this to you as a friend.”

  Colin smiled and her heart skipped a beat. “Then I accept it as a friend, and thank you for your generosity.”

  “If only …” Nellie said with a sad smile.

  “I have often thought the same myself,” Colin said with his own bittersweet smile.

  Nellie left with a shake of her head, and Colin saw to collecting the last of his belongings. He smiled at the rumpled bed and the delightful memories. When he and his small band of men had stopped at this single farmhouse early last evening, it was with the intention of requesting permission to camp on the land for the night.

  The widow Nellie had other ideas as to where Colin himself would bed down, and he naturally made no objections. It had been over two weeks that he and his men had been away from home on a mission for Eric of Shanekill.

  Eric was more friend than lord and while many feared the Irish Devil, a name earned by Eric, Colin found him to be a man possessed of an enduring co
urage and a man true to his word. He was also a man deeply in love with his wife, Faith, who was presently growing heavy with his child. Which was why Colin was on this mission instead of Eric. He simply refused to leave Faith’s side.

  Colin could not blame him. Faith had a way of doing exactly as she pleased no matter how many times Eric ordered her otherwise. And Eric intended to see that his wife did not do her own digging or planting in her herb garden, and that she did not tire herself by tending to too many ailing villagers, though that was a difficult task in itself. Faith was a healer and all at Shanekill Keep sought her skill. And it was with a tender touch and caring heart that she dealt with everyone.

  If truth be told, Colin would have to admit that he envied Eric and the true love he and his wife shared. He had thought to find such a deep, binding love one day, but fate had other plans and while he sincerely cared for the many women he bedded, he loved none. And his worst fear was that he was not capable of truly loving any woman.

  He discarded the troublesome thought with a shrug and headed out the door. He had a mission and so far it had not been very successful. His men greeted him with grumbles and complaints when he stepped out of the cottage into the bright early sun.

  Spring was near on top of them; the clear blue sky, rich green hills and the riotous bloom of wildflowers announced its arrival. The delightful weather was precisely why the men were grumbling. The nine men were part of Eric’s elite warriors and they had fought enough battles and slept on enough hard grounds to last them a lifetime. When Eric was granted land and a wife by the kings of Ireland he gave his warriors a choice of joining him in settling down and creating new life. They all jumped at the opportunity. Some of the men had new wives, barely wed a month, and two or three had wives who were carrying babes.

  Colin knew that his night with the widow Nellie had them all thinking of their own wives and comfortable beds.

  “We are near to Limerick,” he announced with a broad smile, though it was not returned. “Word has it that a young woman with a large dog is traveling that way. If she is not the woman we search for we will return home to Shanekill Keep and seek further instructions.”

  A resounding cheer split the morning air.

  “I say we deliver the troublesome baggage to Lord Eric tied up tightly so she cannot run from her duties again,” Patrick said, swinging up onto his horse.

  He was one who was recently wed, an understandable reason for his urgent desire to return home, and one Colin could not fault.

  “Seems like the lass might fear her marital duties,” Daniel said with a smirk.

  “Bah,” John said, sitting straight on his horse, his large beefy hands light on the reins. “She is a spoiled young lass who needs a firm hand.”

  “Like the firm hand you take with Maggie?” Daniel asked with a laugh.

  John grinned, “It is a firm hand my Maggie likes.”

  The men continued their teasing with more suggestions of how the missing lass should be treated as they turned their horses away from the small cottage.

  After a lingering kiss to Nellie, Colin mounted his horse and joined his men. He listened with half an ear, his own thoughts on the young woman who had run away. Her name was Hope, and she was a descendent of the high king of Ireland. It seemed that her Uncle Shamus had arranged a suitable marriage for her, but she must have disagreed for she disappeared along with her large dog. It was claimed the pair were inseparable.

  Eric had been contacted by the King of Connaught with an urgent request that he assist in locating Hope. Eric agreed and instructed Colin to take a small band of men and find her. Eric did not expect Colin to fail in his mission since he himself would not have, but Colin felt a stirring of pity for this young woman he had never met. She was being forced to wed a stranger, to spend the rest of her life with a man she did not know and perhaps would never come to know. Colin knew of too many arranged marriages that were just that and no more. Love was never found, desires never satisfied, all in the name of duty.

  Had Hope rebelled? Had she taken flight in an attempt to find true love? He shook his head at his ridiculous musings. True love? Was it real? Did it ever exist or was it merely a figment of a poet or minstrel’s imagination?

  A more reasonable explanation would be that this Hope was probably a spoiled and stubborn young woman who thought of no one but herself. And because of her willful ways he and his men were stuck on this ridiculous mission.

  He was suddenly quite annoyed with Hope. Eric had given him a brief description of the young woman: comely, petite, thin, with dark waist-length hair. How could one pint-sized woman create such havoc?

  But then women had a way about them in getting what they wanted, he thought, though it was usually he who got what he wanted from them. Women were delightful creatures and when handled with care and finesse they would purr like contented kittens in a man’s hands.

  Colin wondered how easy it would be to make this Hope purr to his touch. A thought he would make sure never saw reality. Eric made it quite clear that he was not to use his charming tongue on the runaway woman. She was to be returned unspoiled to her uncle. A pity. If this Hope had enough courage to take off on her own, he wondered what courage she would display in bed.

  As the day wore on the grumbling grew more distinct, especially after they passed through a small village and were told that no young woman with a large dog had been seen. If they did not locate Hope, Colin knew all too well that Eric would order them to continue the search.

  Colin grumbled and mumbled to himself as they continued on. The battles he had fought had been easy compared to finding this woman. How could one small woman with a large dog hide herself so well? Or perhaps she had not and was in trouble. That thought disturbed him, for it meant that Eric would then take a formidable troop of men and see to the matter himself.

  He hoped his concern was for naught, but the countryside held dangers such as roving bands of thieves, warring factions and just plain difficulty of survival. How in the Lord’s name was this pint-sized woman surviving?

  It would take a few more days for them to reach Shanekill Keep, and Colin intended to have at least a fraction of information on the woman to take home with him and for his own use when he set out once again in search of Hope.

  The grumbling settled along with the setting sun. The small band of men finally sat relaxed around a campfire that slowly cooked two pheasants on a spit over tempered flames. Stories were being exchanged with robust laughter punctuating the embellished tales as the group waited impatiently for the evening fare to finish roasting.

  A jug of mead was passed around the camp, each man taking a generous taste along with the cheese and bread supplied by the widow Nellie.

  “It is glad I am to be going home,” Stuart said. He was the largest man of the group, tall and broad like an ox, and there was not many a man who would raise a fist against him. His wife Mary equaled his size and was soon to deliver their firstborn. She was also the keep’s cook and favored by the men for her exceptional skill.

  “You think Mary will bake us some of her special meat pies to celebrate our return?” Daniel asked with a lick of his lips as if he could already taste their delicious flavor.

  Patrick shook his head. “We are not returning home victorious. What is there to celebrate?”

  John did not agree. “We have Time yet before we reach the keep. Who knows what will happen? We could find this woman and return in glorious victory. She is after all only one lone woman.”

  “Do not forget the dog,” Stuart reminded. “I heard she is a big monstrous thing.”

  “Like Rook,” Patrick said with a grin.

  The men laughed, as did Colin, who sat a distance away from them, leaning back against a cropping of large stones. Rook was Faith’s trusty companion; he was big and ugly, though dedicated to Faith and loved by all at the keep.

  Colin was glad to be returning home. Eric and Faith were like family to him, as was Borg, Eric’s half brother, and his
wife Bridget. It had been too long since he had felt close to anyone, and the feeling of belonging was a satisfying one he did not wish to relinquish, even for a short time.

  The jug made another circle around the campfire along with tall tales that entertained. The laughter grew loud, a song was raised and the band of men impatiently waited for their supper to finish cooking.

  It was then without notice or forewarning that chaos erupted. A large animal with a spot of white on her head raced into camp snarling and growling as she made a mad dash for the pheasant on the spit. She jumped over John who lay stretched out, her big paw catching him in the stomach and knocking the breath from him. The jug of mead was knocked out of Stuart’s hand by the battering tail that swept in front of him. Patrick was momentarily blinded by a spray of flying dirt as the animal came to a sudden halt in front of him, and Daniel rushed to catch the second pheasant that fell to the ground after the animal successfully captured the first pheasant in her large jaws.

  It took a moment for the men to make sense of the sudden attack, and then they rose swiftly to their feet and rushed in eager pursuit after the thieving animal. Daniel righted the remaining pheasant on the spit and followed his comrades, aware that one pheasant was not a sufficient meal for all the men, no matter how plump the bird.

  Colin quietly waited in the shadows of the night. He had a feeling the large dog was not alone, and when he saw a small shadow advance on the camp, he smiled.

  A skinny young lad crept into camp, his head jerking quickly from side to side, his eyes wide and alert, and his slow approach awkward yet determined. His steps were unsteady, faltering too often, which meant he lacked experience, though he wasted no time in collecting his loot—the sign of a good, if inexperienced, thief.