The Baroness of Clawynd

by Morgan Henry

  Kingdom of Kerban 1

  The Baroness of Clawynd

  With the death of her father, Baroness Aenid has come to her title sooner than she expected. Already a talented Healer using magic, she is now a woman governing a holding. This is rare in Kerban and she is determined to show the kingdom she can oversee Clawynd and fulfill her duties without any assistance.

  Lord Merrin, King’s Champion, is entranced by the strong and intelligent Aenid and desires to love and protect her. But a traitorous duke interrupts his plans to court her properly and he leaves to serve his King. When the would-be lovers are reunited in the fight to protect Kerban, Aenid resists Merrin’s attempts to keep her safe. She thinks his actions undermine her and that he doesn’t respect her abilities.

  In the midst of treachery and invasion, will it be too late for Aenid to understand Merrin’s love and ability to protect her doesn’t detract from her role as Baroness?

  Genre: Fantasy, Historical

  Length: 53,670 words

  THE BARONESS OF CLAWYND

  Kingdom of Kerban 1

  Morgan Henry

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  THE BARONESS OF CLAWYND

  Copyright © 2014 by Morgan Henry

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-038-2

  First E-book Publication: July 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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  DEDICATION

  For Tom and Sue, and Chris and James.

  Thank you for helping this Luddite.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  THE BARONESS OF CLAWYND

  Kingdom of Kerban 1

  MORGAN HENRY

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter 1

  Duke Bruson de Donal of Dyfal looked out the window into the castle courtyard, his flat, dark eyes watching the servants. It was early harvest and they were storing the first of the foodstuffs to get the castle through the winter. Or so they thought. If his plans came to fruition, the stores would feed an army as well.

  Bruson took a swig of his wine, an exceptional vintage from the western vineyards. The gold of his ducal ring winked in the light from the window. Its richness went with the heavily embroidered green tunic, tooled brown leather boots and form-fitting pants. Bruson never stinted when it came to himself.

  “What does the baron say?” he asked Hador, his head servant, the Master of the keep.

  “He is flattered by your offer, and respects the distant family ties, but says his daughter declines. Respectfully.” Hador summarized the letter delivered earlier in the day. Wisely he said no more.

  Bruson slammed his fist on the windowsill. He was a tall man, all sinew and muscle, and the force of his blow rattled the glass. “Damn their stubbornness! It would be so much easier to marry the damn woman and keep the king’s suspicions at bay for a little longer.” Now he would have to get the female and her land the hard way. And still try to keep suspicions at bay.

  He turned to the other man in the room. Sir Turok leaned against the wall, drinking a cup of the same vintage, but he was not so richly attired. “See to his ‘accidental’ death,” ordered the duke harshly.

  Turok bowed to his lord. He left silently, smart enough to say nothing to the volatile Duke of Dyfal.

  * * * *

  Lady Aenid enjoyed the fragrance of the healthy plants in her large medicinal garden. A light breeze dissipated the late summer heat and ruffled the hairs that had slipped out of her braid. She clipped several buds from the stratha plant and added them to her basket. The little buds were essential in the restoring tea for women who had undergone a difficult birth. She moved on to the next section and began pulling the few weeds that had sprung up. Though the head gardener of the demesne—the land directly supporting the manor house—oversaw her medicinal garden personally, Aenid loved finding time to tend the garden herself. Aenid found a great deal of peace in working in the soil and watching the plants mature.

  The estate was the home of her father, the baron of Clawynd. His lands extended for miles around, bordered by the foothills of the East Dyfal Mountains and three other noble seats. It was a small holding in the kingdom of Kerban, but it was relatively wealthy due to the mines and rich farmland. Her father managed it well. He was fair and just with his people and they prospe
red because of it. They were also very loyal to him.

  The house itself, Duth Clawynd, was a huge manor house. She knew it was not nearly as impressive as the castles that were the homes of other nobles, but she loved its less military appearance. It had hundreds of rooms and was home and work for dozens of servants. It was an imposing structure when viewed from the front. Rising several stories, it had a central hall with a wing off each side, and square turrets rose at each corner. The gravel laneway led from the road to the shallow valley of the estate and circled a statue of the goddess with a garden.

  Aenid thought it was a little extravagant for a family of two, but it was their ancestral home. In the past the families of Clawynd had been larger. Baron Jero de Barden, her father, had not been blessed with many children. Aenid’s mother had died birthing her second child, who had passed on within days of his mother. Aenid was only seven at the time, and had not come into her powers as a healer. Her father had loved her mother dearly and despite the pressure to remarry, had not done so. He lavished his love upon his daughter and raised her to know her duty to the people of their land and ensured she had the training and skills to be an excellent Baroness.

  In the kingdom of Kerban both men and women could inherit noble seats. Generally it was the firstborn male that took the title but if there was no boy child, the firstborn daughter inherited. So, Aenid would be Baroness and her husband, if she chose to marry, would be Baron. The rule of the seat would be hers, however.

  Though Aenid would be Baroness by right of lineage, her father always impressed upon her the need for excellence. He told her that though women could inherit, it happened infrequently enough that she would be constantly challenged. She would have to be a better Baroness than any other noble in the kingdom. The estate must be well managed, her people loyal and well cared for, the border with Torquin guarded and her soldiers well trained, her holding justly administered, never late with her taxes, and she must keep abreast of all the king’s council details and scheming of the rest of the nobles. It was a daunting task for any noble in the kingdom.

  She already oversaw the management of the home and demesne. Her father ensured she was included in or informed of all decisions regarding the running of the seat. This involved the supervision of lands and tenants, taxes, administration of justice, and the health and welfare of their people. She knew much about the king’s council, but rarely went to court. Her father’s retirement from active court life limited the amount of time she spent in Kerfaen.

  She heard the sound of hooves on the gravel of the lane to the manor. She stood and walked over to see who was approaching. She wondered if it was the hunting party. Lord Merrin, the King’s Champion and a friend of her father’s from his days at court, had brought several young knights for a visit.

  Aenid could admit to herself that she found Lord Merrin very attractive and she was drawn to him in ways she had never before experienced. He had a scar that cut across his face from his temple, over his left eye and down his cheek a little ways. For some reason, Aenid thought the scar only make him more striking. With the healing powers available in Kerban, scars like his were rare. He had mid-length black hair that was brushed back from a strong forehead. His eyes were a clear blue, and he had a strong chin that he appeared to keep free of stubble. His mouth was generous, with the slight lines at the side that come with laughter. He was a large man. He towered over her and had the muscles to fill out his frame. His shoulders were wide and upper body strong from fighting, and his legs were powerful from all his riding. For all his strength, Aenid felt that he could be very gentle when the occasion called for it.

  By all accounts, Merrin was intelligent, well educated, and honorable. He was also a reasonably strong mage, able to cast mid-level spells. He had strong mental shields, a basic necessity of anyone who was able to wield kerfios beyond a basic level. Her father liked him. She suspected that the knights he brought with him were supposed to be eligible suitors for her—young, handsome, and of lower rank than her. None of them compared to Merrin in her eyes.

  The approaching group did appear to be the hunting party that had set off early in the morning. It was odd they were travelling so slowly. And they seemed quiet. Even if the hunt had been less than successful, there would normally be some banter between the men.

  Aenid stepped toward the lane, intending to greet her father. One of the men in the group caught sight of her and urged his mount faster. The horse jogged toward her. As it approached, she could see that it was Lord Merrin.

  The grave expression on Merrin’s face gave her pause. He dismounted and went down on one knee in front of her. “My Lady,” he greeted respectfully.

  Now Aenid was worried, very worried. “What is it, Lord Merrin?” she asked, barely able to keep her voice from shaking.

  He stood slowly and looked directly into her eyes. “I’m afraid your father has met with a terrible accident.”

  Aenid felt the tiniest measure of relief. “What happened? How badly is he hurt? I will heal him.” She started toward the group, but Merrin caught her arm.

  Aenid was irritated with the man and gave him an angry look. She was a Healer, one of the most powerful in the entire guild. She could use kerfios to repair the most grievous of wounds, ease the most difficult childbirth, and cure the ravages of many diseases. She pulled her arm, but he held fast. She frowned at him. “Let me go,” she commanded forcefully, courtesies be damned.

  “Even you cannot heal death, My Lady,” Merrin said gently.

  Aenid gasped. “No.” But she could see the truth in his eyes. “No!” She pulled harder on her arm in the lord’s grasp, now struggling in earnest.

  Lord Merrin actually pulled her into his arms. He wrapped powerful limbs around her as she sagged and let out a sob. She could hear the hunting party approach and she ruthlessly crushed her tears. The salty drops could wait for another time. She straightened in Merrin’s arms and gave a little push at his chest. He released her, but kept a hand on her elbow.

  Aenid swallowed. “I need to see him,” she stated firmly.

  “Not yet, My Lady,” Merrin advised softly.

  “You forget I have seen death many times, My Lord. I will see my own father and make sure no spark of life is left in him.” Aenid’s voice was grim, yet there was steely strength in it as well. She would not be denied.

  Merrin released her elbow. He gestured to the procession to halt and Aenid made her way to the pallet that carried her father’s body. She pulled the cloak covering him back to reveal her father’s face. The right side of his skull was crushed and bloody. Even if Aenid had been beside him when he was wounded, it was unlikely she would have been able to save him.

  She put the cloak back in place. “What happened?” she asked hoarsely.

  “We were chasing a stag, your father in the lead. It headed down into a ravine and your father followed. The rest of us were slower as we didn’t know the terrain. His horse slipped or tripped somehow, your father was thrown and hit his head on a rock. There was nothing any of us could have done.” Merrin’s voice was filled with regret and some anger.

  “No, there wasn’t,” Aenid agreed dully. “We need to get him to the manor.” She started walking up the lane, leading the procession.

  When they arrived at the manor, servants awaited them. Their sharp-eyed butler, Tanis, would have seen the party and known something was amiss. Aenid went directly to the head of her household.

  “Tanis,” she addressed him, her voice a bit stronger now, “The baron has died in a hunting accident. We are now in mourning. Please have father’s body taken”—she choked a little—“taken downstairs and I will help to wash and prepare him for the funeral.”

  “Baroness,” Tanis addressed her with her new title, “we can prepare him for you. We would spare you that pain.”

  “Thank you for your kindness, but he is my father,” she said, managing to keep her voice from betraying how close she was to tears. “I will participate. I need to depend on you
to care for our guests.”

  “You may always depend on me, Baroness.” Tanis turned and began to direct the footmen to take the pallet and grooms to tend to the horses.

  Aenid went inside, ignoring her guests. It would normally have been rude to do so, but she thought they would grant her a little leeway. She went through the great hall, down the large corridor past the dining hall, library, salon and other rooms on the main floor to the back staircase. She went down, down to the heart of the manor where the servants gathered and worked to ensure the baron, his family, and their guests were fed and cared for.

  She entered the small room where she knew her father’s body would be. Madam Proust, the head housekeeper, was there with her father.

  “I’ve sent his man to get proper clothes to dress the baron in, My Lady,” she informed Aenid quietly.

  “Thank you,” Aenid replied. “Let us tend to him.”

  The two women stripped away the soiled clothes and washed his body. Aenid felt sad that she could not somehow hide the damage to his shattered head and make him look like the man she knew again. But it wouldn’t bring him back, and the goddess would accept him regardless.

  Kerbans believed in the goddess, who held sway over that which is of the earth—birth, death, sickness, health, and harvest, as well as the god who ruled over that which man creates—war, revenge, justice, business, and love. Kerfios, the magic force in the land, was an entity unto itself.

  Many Kerbans were able to use kerfios. It tended to run in families, most nobles had some degree of ability, but there certainly were plenty of lowborn that wielded it as well. It was also not unheard of for a mage of incredible ability to arise in a family where there had not been a drop of ability with kerfios in the past, or vice versa. Not everyone who could wield the power could do so in the same way. There were those that were gifted with varying abilities to perform spells, enchant objects, and heal. In general, the stronger a person’s ability with one aspect of kerfios, the weaker they were in the other aspects.