Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Courtly pushed the wet hair out of her eyes, focusing on the fire that St. Héver was so vigorously stoking. She slid off the bench and crawled on her hands and knees to the hearth, closer to the warmth. She held her shaking hands out against the heat of the blaze. She’d never been so cold in her entire life.

  “What about his army?” she wanted to know. “Why is his army still here?”

  St. Héver looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean, my lady?”

  Courtly looked at the young knight. “Is he not going after the de Sheras?” she asked. “I know what happened tonight. I assumed he would be amassing his army to attack them.”

  St. Héver was trying to piece together what she was talking about and began to understand. “Your father was very drunk, my lady,” he said. “What happen with the de Sheras… your father will indulge in a fight at the slightest provocation, you know that. After they left, he wanted to pursue them but I convinced him it would not be wise, especially with the storm coming. We would be trying to battle them in their own element and we would surely lose.”

  Courtly was trying to stop her chattering teeth. “What do you mean?”

  St. Héver smiled thinly. “The storm, my lady,” he said quietly. “Have you not heard of the Lords of Thunder? They use the storm to their advantage in battle. It is their preferred medium. Some say the lightning does their bidding. I have heard from more than one man that it is true.”

  Courtly was warming up, becoming more lucid, and her mind began to mull over St. Héver’s words: the Lords of Thunder. Aye, she knew that was what the de Sheras were called, everyone knew. But now she understood why. Thoughts of Maximus filled her brain and the tears that had flowed since nearly the moment she left The One-Eyed Raven returned with a vengeance. She turned her face to the fire, unwilling to let St. Héver see her tears of utter sorrow.

  “Courtly!”

  A cry caused her to turn away from the flames, wiping tears from her face, as Isadora burst into the hall and ran to her sister. The little girl nearly pitched herself into the fire in her haste, prevented from doing so by St. Héver’s quick actions. Courtly and Isadora hugged fiercely.

  “You have come back!” Isadora gasped, holding tightly to her sister. But she soon recoiled, wiping off her damp hands. “But you are so wet. You must put on something dry!”

  Courtly shook her head, kissing her little sister on the cheek. “I have nothing else,” she said. “Remember that all of our possessions burned. I must dry out what I am wearing.”

  Isadora’s attention moved to the garment her sister was wearing, a dress she had never seen before. “Where did you get this?” she asked, fingering the lavender material. “It is so beautiful.”

  Courtly wasn’t sure what to tell her sister. My love purchased this for me and it is the last thing I shall ever have to remember him by. But she didn’t voice her thoughts. Isadora didn’t need to know such things. As she prepared a generic reply, Ellice entered the hall.

  Courtly’s guard went up, watching her aunt as the woman shook off the wet cloak she was wearing and left it by the entry. As Ellice approached, their gazes locked and something odd filled the air between them. There was understanding and remorse and sorrow there, intangible sensations at best. But, clearly, Courtly felt no hostility from her aunt whatsoever, a rare condition, indeed. Ellice didn’t come any closer than the feasting table and she made no move to embrace her niece as she planted her wide bottom on the bench near Courtly and Isadora. Her dark gaze was on Courtly.

  “Why did you come back?” she asked. “You had no call to.”

  Courtly wasn’t sure how to answer, unsure how much to say in front of Isadora. “I had to,” she said simply.

  “Why?”

  Ellice was pushing her. Not wanting to speak of such things in front of her little sister, Courtly put her hand under Isadora’s chin and looked her in the eye.

  “Will you go into the kitchen and see if there is warm wine for me?” she asked. “I am in need of something warming.”

  St. Héver stood up. “I ordered wine,” he said. “I shall see what is keeping it.”

  He walked away, taking with him Courtly’s excuse to remove her sister. Even so, she patted the little girl on the shoulder.

  “Go with him,” she said. “You can help him.”

  Isadora trailed after St. Héver without an argument. When she and the knight disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen yard, Courtly spoke to her aunt.

  “Because I heard what happened her,” she hissed. “I heard that Papa denied Sir Maximus’ marriage proposal and I heard about the fight. I came back to prevent my father from attacking Maximus and his brother. If I am home, there is no reason to attack them. They were very kind to me, Auntie. It would be appalling if Papa attacked them because of me.”

  Not strangely, Ellice could see her point. She sighed heavily. “You should not have returned,” she said. “You were with the man who wanted to marry you. What must he think now? That you are a silly fool who has run off?”

  Courtly shook her head. “I left him a note,” she said. “He will know that I did this to protect him and his family. Auntie, Papa is a ridiculous fool for behaving the way he does. He has no cause to deny Maximus’ marriage offer and certainly no cause to attack the man.”

  “You should not have come back.”

  “I am protecting the man I love!”

  “Love him, do you?”

  Ellice and Courtly turned to see Kellen standing in the entry, dripping from the rain. He didn’t seem drunk in the least. In fact he seemed furious and lucid. He yanked the door shut behind him and stomped into the room, glaring at Courtly as if she were his worst enemy.

  “Answer me,” he boomed. “Do you love him?”

  Courtly had never heard her father speak to her like that and she had to admit that he was frightening her. He didn’t look like the same father she had known all of these years. He looked different, edgy, like a man possessed. It was a struggle to maintain her courage.

  “Aye,” she replied steadily. “I do. He is a kind, generous man and you had no reason to deny him his marriage proposal. Why did you do it?”

  Kellen’s teeth were clenched with rage as he faced off against his daughter. “You will not question me,” he snarled. “I will do what is best for you, even if you are too stupid to realize it.”

  His fury had Courtly’s dander up. “I am not stupid,” she fired back at him. “You have no earthly reason to deny Maximus’ suit. He is a good man from a good family. What would possess you so? Why would you want to make me lonely and bitter for the rest of my life?”

  Kellen’s jaw flexed, indicative of his level of emotion. “You are too stupid to realize when your father is protecting you,” he said. “You have no sense at all, girl. Maximus de Shera has bewitched you somehow. What else has he done to you? What personal favors have you granted him?”

  Courtly wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking but she knew that she didn’t like what he was possibly implying. “What do you mean?”

  Kellen took a step towards her, his dark eyes blazing. “Whore favors, girl,” he growled. “What whore favors have you granted him?”

  Courtly lashed out and slapped her father across the face, so hard that the man’s head snapped back. He staggered back a step as well, startled that his beloved Courtly should actually strike him. For a brief moment, it occurred to him just what he had accused her of and he was remorseful, but only for a moment. Immediately, his anger and suspicions swamped him, stronger than before, because he was sure that he was correct. She had granted the man favors. He looked at his daughter, his eyes wide with shock and outrage, as Ellice moved to stand between the two.

  It was a surprising move by the woman who usually kept well away from her brother and nieces when it came to family business, but in this case, she was taking a stand. She had to. She pointed a finger at Kellen.

  “You will not touch her,” she threatened. “Get out of here,
Kellen. Go back to your room and leave Courtly alone. You have no reason to accuse her of such things. You are a foul man with a foul mind.”

  Kellen’s venom focused on his sister. “This is none of your affair, Ellice. I would advise you to move out of the way.”

  Ellice refused to move. “I am not moving,” she said. “If you want your daughter, you will have to go through me to get to her and I promise you that I will not make an easy victim.”

  Kellen stood there looking at his sister and his daughter, his expression wrought with turmoil. He was beyond furious at this point. He was flirting with the edge of madness. Courtly was rebelling and Ellice, of all people, was siding with her. There was only one thing to do. He had to remove his daughters from Kennington. He had to get them away from Ellice and away from Oxford in general. They had to leave.

  “You are a wicked, bitter woman,” he muttered to his sister, backing away towards the entry door. “I should never have brought my children here. I knew you were a bad influence on them but I am only coming to realize just how bad. I am sending my daughters back to Trelystan tonight and if you stand in my way, I will kill you. Is that clear?”

  Courtly let out a shocked gasp. “Papa!” she cried. “You would send us home in this weather? How can you do that?”

  Kellen roared at her. “Silence!” he said. “St. Héver will return you home this very night. God damn de Montfort, I must remain here because of his foolish gathering, but I will trust St. Héver to take you home. You will obey the man, Courtly, or I will give him permission to beat you. Is that clear? I will have him beat Maximus de Shera right out of your head!”

  Courtly didn’t say a word, she was afraid to. She looked to Ellice, however, who was rooted to the spot, between Kellen and Courtly, watching her brother as he staggered out of the hall and back out into the rain. When the heavy door of the hall slammed shut, she turned to Courtly.

  “I can hide you,” she said to Courtly. “Come with me.”

  Courtly was still reeling from her father’s words. In his current mental state, she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t carry out his threat against Ellice. She went to her aunt, grasping the woman by the arm gently. She’d never done that before. She’d never even really touched her aunt before, but at the moment, she felt closer to the woman than she ever had. In this moment of darkness, there was a ray of light.

  “Nay, Auntie,” she said softly. “If you do, he will punish you. I cannot let that happen.”

  Ellice was softened by Courtly’s tender touch although she would not admit it, not even to herself. She liked to think of herself as hardened to any emotion, but she really wasn’t. Like anyone else, she craved a human touch.

  “You heard him,” Ellice said. “He is going to send you and Isadora back to Trelystan tonight.”

  Courtly sighed. She loathed the mere idea. “I have no choice,” she murmured. “If he sends me and my sister back home, then mayhap he will cease this madness that he has suffered over the past day. Mayhap he will calm down and become himself again. The situation with Maximus has seemed to drive him right to the brink of madness.”

  Ellice began to feel a sense of desperation on behalf of her niece. “If you return to Trelystan,” she said softly, “chances are that you will never see Sir Maximus again. Are you willing to risk that?”

  Courtly gazed at the woman, her eyes filling with tears. She simply couldn’t fight them off as Ellice reminded her of the heart and soul she had left back at The One-Eyed Raven. Her features crumbled and she sat heavily at the feasting table, right in the same spot she had sat the night before with Maximus at her side. She remembered that night clearly, word for word, and her hand moved over the seat next to her where he had been. She could still see him sitting there, strong and proud. The sobs came.

  “I have no choice,” she wept quietly. “If I do not do what Papa says, he will take it out on innocent people. He may even take it out on you or Isadora. I could not live with myself if he harmed all of you because he was angry with me.”

  Ellice was moved by her tears. She remembered another young girl, years ago, with similar tears where it pertained to Kellen de Lara. Ellice had been so very young when Kellen had chased her last suitor away, a man she had loved. God’s Bones, but she remembered those tears. She remembered the pain. Courtly’s sorrow cut her deeply.

  “Then you are giving up,” she said hoarsely. “You are letting your father win.”

  Courtly shook her head, wiping at her cheeks. “I am doing what I must in order to save those around me,” she said. “If something must be sacrificed in all of this, I would rather it be me than Maximus.”

  Ellice watched her niece quietly weep, each tear driving the nails of grief deeper and deeper into her heart. She had so wanted to help Courtly so the woman would not suffer the same lonely life she had, but Courtly was convinced that she had to obey her father in order to keep those she loved safe. It was the truth, in fact, and the noblest sacrifice Ellice had ever seen. She felt so very helpless because she knew she couldn’t help Courtly. But she knew who could, perhaps the only person in all of England who could.

  “Where is Sir Maximus?” Ellice asked. “Where is he staying?”

  Courtly wiped at her nose. “In Oxford,” she sniffled. “At a tavern called The One-Eyed Raven. Why do you ask?”

  Ellice avoided the question. “When he discovers you missing, he will come here. You know that.”

  Courtly shrugged. “I asked him not to,” she whispered. “I told him not to come after me.”

  Ellice snorted. “Do you think he will listen?” she said, glancing up at one of the tall, lancet windows at the top of the room when the lightning flashed overhead. “He is more than likely on his way here.”

  Courtly looked up at her, disturbed by the suggestion. “I asked him not to,” she repeated, with concern in her tone now. “He must not come, Auntie. It will be a horrible situation if he does.”

  Ellice nodded, pretending to agree. “Aye, it will be,” she said. “Mayhap… mayhap I should go and warn him not to come.”

  Courtly stood up, her expression eager. “Will you?” she asked hopefully. “I know the weather is terrible, and I would not ask this of you under normal circumstances, but I am afraid of what Papa will do if Maximus comes for me. Papa might even try to kill him.”

  Ellice was indeed thinking of riding to warn Maximus, but not for the reasons Courtly was concerned with. Ellice had her own plans.

  “I will ride into town and speak to him,” Ellice said. “He must know not to come. He must know… what is happening.”

  Courtly nodded her head, deeply thankful for her aunt’s selfless attitude. “Please, Auntie,” she begged softly, “Please go to him. I will be forever grateful.”

  Ellice waited until Isadora returned with warmed wine before leaving the hall and heading to her chambers to don clothing that would be somewhat resistant to the terrible weather. She’d spent so much of her life feeling worthless and restless that to actually have a purpose fueled her with confidence and new hope.

  She was going to ride to find Maximus de Shera, that was a fact. But it would not be to warn him not to come to Kennington. It would be to tell him that Kellen was sending his daughters back to Trelystan. Her suggestion would be that Maximus should intercept that escort and take back what rightfully belonged to him. Kellen, who had to remain in Oxford because of de Montfort’s gathering, might not know for weeks or even months that his daughters had been taken by Maximus de Shera. By the time he found out, Courtly would be Lady de Shera and Kellen would be too late to do anything about it. Aye, it was a brilliant plan.

  For the marriage Kellen had denied his sister those years ago, Ellice would finally make her brother pay.

  She would have the last laugh.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Maximus recognized the woman the moment she walked into the inn, drenched and sputtering.

  He had been standing at the usual de Shera table, the one near the barke
ep, discussing Courtly’s disappearance and her subsequent note that they had discovered a few minutes earlier. Thinking the women were sleeping, they had left them alone until Stefan had returned to tell them that he could not find one hostel or inn that had room for all of them. Then, there was no point in waking the women at all and they’d found the note only by chance when Gallus had gone to look in on his wife again and found her very much alone in the chamber. Courtly’s note had been on the table nearby. They had been preparing to go after her when Lady Ellice walked through the tavern door.

  Maximus crossed the room in seconds. Perhaps he even flew. He wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew was that, suddenly, he had his hands on Ellice as if she alone held all of the answers to Courtly’s disappearance.

  “Where is she?” he demanded savagely. “Where is Courtly?”

  Ellice was somewhat caught off-guard. Having charged blindly into the inn to get out of the rain, she suddenly found herself in the hands of a madman. She yelped with surprise, looking up into a very angry, very worried face.

  “Sir Maximus!” she gasped.

  Maximus’ grip on her arms tightened. “Where is she?” he repeated.

  By this time, Gallus and Tiberius had joined Maximus and were attempting to pull his hands off the woman.

  “Max,” Gallus said softly, urgently. “Let her go. Come, now, release her.”

  Maximus managed to get one hand off of her but he still kept a grip on her arm, even as Gallus and Tiberius led them over, in some odd-looking group clutching at each other, to the table where all of the de Shera men were gathering. Someone extended a cup of warm wine to Ellice, which she gratefully accepted. She was soaked through. But Maximus had to let her go in order for her to lift the cup to her lips and he did so, though reluctantly. Ellice drank deeply before speaking.

  “Courtly is at Kennington,” she said, licking her lips. “She came back because she was afraid my brother was going to launch an attack against you. She believed that if she went back to her father, then he would cease his hostilities.”