Arucard (Brethren Origins Book 1)

by Barbara Devlin

  “Nay, my champion. And that is thy pet name, known only to us.” After emptying the cup, she passed it to him and teased his shoulder with a light caress. “Now come to bed, as I need thee to keep me warm.”

  “I had thought to sleep on the ground, as I would not risk hurting thee.” Gooseflesh covered him, as she speared her fingers through his rich brown hair. “Prithee, if thou would, pass my pillow and a hide.”

  “I will not, unless thou dost wish I recline with thee on the earth.” She made to sit upright. “And I could suffer a cold, as it is damp and chilly. Now take off thy tunic and hose, and come hither.”

  “Isolde, thou art the most stubborn woman of my acquaintance.” His playful grin and wink belied the seriousness of his rebuke, as he stripped bare save his braies.

  “Thou hast claimed I am the only woman of thy acquaintance, so thou dost not say much.” She drew back the hides as he eased to the mattress. “And hast thou composed my pet name?”

  “Given thy singular topic of conversation, I had pondered something akin to an old horse.” Beneath the skins, he pinched her bottom.

  “Ooh, thou art the villain, sir, as I am no nag.” She pouted even as he burst into laughter. “Mayhap thou should sleep on the ground or with thy soldiers, if thou dost find me so offensive.”

  “Thou art not offensive.” Whither she had moved to the furthest edge of the bed, he slipped an arm beneath her and pulled her to his side. “Thou art my beauteous Isolde.”

  “And thou art my champion.” She cuddled close, as the thyme worked on her, and fought to stay awake. When she yawned, Arucard kissed her forehead.

  “Sleep, my lady wife.” Then he suckled her lips. “In the morrow, we complete our journey to Chichester. And once thy wounds have healed sufficiently, I shall take thy most intimate gift.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Lord Rochester hath been corresponding with Juraj de Mravec for the past few years, Sir Arucard.” Frowning, Margery sat across the table from Isolde. “To my dismay, their letters became more frequent about six months ago, and I feared thy marriage had something to do with the awful business.”

  As Margery related more information, Isolde’s heart raced. Could it be true? Was her father a traitor? And what of her brother? Then she wondered whether or not the scandal could threaten her husband, and she fretted for his welfare, given he had recently spent five years in White Tower.

  “An understandable conclusion, but how dost thou know they conspire to commit nefarious deeds?” Arucard rubbed his chin and ignored the insult, to Isolde’s relief. “Mayhap they art naught more than friends sharing harmless banter.”

  “Nay, because his lordship bade me take the alley and deliver the letters to a masked courier, after dark, and a good distance from the house, to evade suspicion. And on three separate occasions, when I had the misfortune to read a portion, his lordship wrote of stealing lands and blaming the Crown to undermine the realm.” The housekeeper peered at Pellier, who sat beside her. “And just before he terminated my employ, the earl threatened to cut my throat should I ever betray his confidence.”

  For Isolde, the revelations were too much, and she bowed her head in shame. But Arucard lent support, as he covered her hand with his and squeezed her fingers.

  “Worry not, fair Margery.” Pellier lifted his chin and compressed his lips. “I will protect thee, as Sir Arucard guards Lady Isolde.”

  “Humph.” Margery snorted. “How can thou protect me, when thou cannot take care of thyself, little man?”

  “Careful, woman.” Pellier snickered. “Thou didst not think me so little last eventide.”

  At the shocking declaration, Isolde gasped and glanced at Arucard. In unison, they blinked.

  “Foul creature, thou dost tell wild tales.” The maid folded her arms. “Ask someone else to boil the elecampane for thy cough.”

  “What?” Pellier shrugged. “Thither art no virgin ears at this table, as Sir Arucard and Lady Isolde art newly wed and, therefore, I presume art becoming quite practiced at grooming the one-eyed horse. Wherefore should I conceal that which is obvious to everyone but thee?”

  Arucard winked at Isolde, and she cursed the burn of a blush.

  “And that would be—what?” With a huff of breath, Margery gazed at the sky and shook her head.

  “Thou art taken with me.” With a hearty guffaw, Pellier poked Margery in the ribs. “Admit it, thou art mad for me.”

  “I must be mad to involve myself with the likes of thee, and I have wasted enough time on this conversation. Sir Arucard, if thou dost require additional details, I am at thy service.” Standing, Margery tossed her napkin in Pellier’s face. “My lady, if thou hast no further need of me, I would pack the wagon.”

  “Thou art dismissed.” Reeling from the events that had transpired, Isolde pushed from the table. “I should stow our personal items and close our trunks, so we may depart.”

  “Allow me to help thee.” Her husband chucked Pellier on the shoulder and said, “Thou hast dug a deep pit for thyself. Perchance, thou should seek out Margery and apologize for thy ill manners, thou sad sack of ignorance.”

  In their tent, Isolde faced her knight, covered her mouth, and together they burst into laughter. After a few minutes, she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Dost thou believe it?”

  “Pellier and Margery? Nay.” Pressing a clenched fist to his belly, he chuckled. “And never would I have guessed, as those two art as night and day.”

  “And they have—what did he call it?” She searched her memory and giggled. “Groomed the one-eyed horse. Doth that mean what I think it means?”

  “Aye.” Slipping his arms about her waist, he pulled her close. “It would appear our stewards have beat us to the consummation, but I will see to that once we arrive at Chichester.”

  “Is that a promise?” Of course, her maidenhead seemed insignificant, in light of the morrow’s developments. “Arucard, what will we do about de Cadby and the questionable burgage plots? If my father and de Mravec have stolen lands under the Crown’s seal, the King will want my father’s head on a pike. And when it comes to His Majesty, often the entire family bears responsibility for the crime. Whither will that leave us, as I am frightened?”

  “Wherefore that I should meet with the locals, hear their complaints, gather evidence, and deliver everything to the King for his judgment.” How could he remain so calm? “Now give me a kiss to see me through the day’s ride, as young Aeduuard insists we shall arrive in Chichester by the eventide, and I suspect we shall be right busy.”

  Knowing a mere kiss would not satisfy him, she did as he bade, the usual accompanying ache blossomed in the pit of her belly, and her gut clenched. As she moved her mouth over his, something grew between them, a foreign but mystical power she tried but failed to identify, and it spun its delicate web, enfolding them in a gossamer cocoon of comforting warmth. When he squeezed her bottom, he suckled her lips, and she relished his taste and scent. And, as always, he ended the sweet moment with a hug.

  “Dost thou feel it?” She shivered, as he caught the crest of her ear with his teeth.

  “Aye. I desire thee.” Grasping her wrist, he settled her palm to a telltale bulge. “Never doubt me.”

  “Oh, my champion.” She gazed into his eyes, as he cupped her cheek. “I desire thee, too. And I am so glad we waited, as I feared thee on our wedding night.”

  “And now, my beauteous Isolde?” Arucard arched a brow and grinned. “Art thou still afraid?”

  “Nay, my lord.” As she caressed his hard length, she trailed her tongue along his jawline. “I yearn for thee.”

  “I understand.” He massaged her breast and teased her nipple through her wool cotehardie, and she moaned. “As I shared thy consternation, but not so anymore. And once we art unpacked in our new home, and thy wounds art healed to my appeasement, my first order of business is to consummate our nuptials, as I burn for thee.”

  #

  The sun rested low on the horizon
, when the procession approached the north gates of Chichester Castle. A wide moat surrounded the square structure, which boasted crenellation and balistraria fortifications about the exterior curtain wall and towers, along with a spectacular view of the coastline. A narrow bridge accommodated only a wagon or two horsemen riding side by side, to negotiate the expanse, which attached to an outer causeway.

  With a tight grip on his sword, Arucard steered right and crossed the first drawbridge, which led to the main gatehouse and an impressive barbican marked by a vaulted ceiling filled with murder-holes and three wooden portcullises. But an overwhelming stench left him gagging, and he searched for and discovered the source, an uncovered garderobe in dire need of cleaning, which he would have flushed before posting soldiers in the gatehouse.

  The second drawbridge presented a hazard, as damaged timbers rendered the traverse unstable in places, but the group successfully navigated to the twin-towered, machicolated inner gatehouse, which connected to the lesser curtain wall. The strategic entry opened to a large courtyard, as the castle had no keep, and all manner of refuse littered the yard.

  “What a bit of good fortune.” He dismounted his destrier and then handed Isolde to the ground. “It appears our new home is in excellent condition.”

  “Art thou blind?” With a wide-eyed gaze of incredulity, she scoffed. “This place is a filthy tragedy of the worst sort. Just look at that pile of trash, as it must be at least as tall as thee, and I insist thou burn it, at once. Lord knows how many little creatures dwell thither, and I shudder to think of what I may find in the private rooms.”

  “Demetrius, organize a search of the entire premises.” Arucard signaled his brothers. “And if thou would—”

  “Prithee, have Morgan stock the kitchen with wood and start a fire, as Margery and I must prepare thy supper.” His wife ticked off an imaginary list on her fingers. “I need Aristide to assemble some men to convey the food stores to the undercroft, provided we have an undercroft, and Geoffrey must locate my cleaning supplies. And if thou would bear our personal trunks to our chamber, which I have yet to establish, I shall make some attempt to settle our lodging.”

  Palpable silence fell on the group, as his fellow Nautionnier knights cast him a harsh stare, and Arucard tugged on the collar of his tunic. How he responded to his wife’s request could either reinforce or destroy his authority, so he pondered the situation and composed a polite but unmistakable reprove.

  “Isolde, I command His Majesty’s servants.” Checking his tone, as he had no wish to frighten her, he folded his arms. “Thy entreaties must perforce yield to mine.”

  “Dost thou wish to eat?” She tapped her foot in an impatient rhythm. “Dost thou wish to bathe? Dost thou wish to sleep in a warm, comfortable bed? Mayhap thou would prefer the stables.”

  At the thought, he swallowed hard, stretched to full height, and glared at the Brethren. “Thou didst hear the lady. Wherefore dost thou linger?” After a few grumbles in protest, the knights hurried about their tasks, and then he winked at his wife and smiled.

  “Well, I would ask the same of thee.” Narrowing her stare, she lifted her chin, and he adored her fiery spirit. “Else I am certain thy stallion would love to share its stall with thee.”

  “Banishing me from our marital bed?” In an instant, he swooped, flung her over his shoulder, and smacked her bottom. “I think not.”

  “Oh, Arucard.” Pounding his back with her fists, she attempted to wriggle free. “Put me down.”

  “Apologize.”

  “Nay.”

  “Apologize.”

  “Nay.”

  “Then thou wilt spend the eventide thus, and I quite enjoy the arrangement.” To impress upon her the seriousness of his proclamation, he hefted her trunk and carried her into the living areas, which lined the interior curtain wall. “It appears I have found the great hall.”

  “And it is dirty.” Isolde shifted and propped herself on her elbows. “The dais is serviceable, but the tables and chairs art in disarray, so thou should release me to be about my work. And I should remind Margery to inspect the chimney before lighting a blaze, as she could fill the castle with smoke.”

  “I am sure Margery can survive without thee, and she seems competent enough.” Arucard spied a narrow passage, which led to a stairway, and he ascended to the second floor, whither he discovered a dusty solar and what he suspected were the main accommodations. “Home, at last, my lady.”

  “And thither is much to be done, if we art to retire after supper.” Again, she squirmed, and he tightened his hold. “Pray, let me go.”

  “What hast thou to say?” He pinched her round arse, and she shrieked.

  “Now.” In response, she attempted to kick free.

  “Wrong answer, my lady.” In play, he rotated in circles, until she begged him to stop. “Art thou prepared to offer thy words of regret?”

  “Art thou truly annoyed?” she asked in a small voice, and he altered his grasp, letting her slide down the front of him, but her feet dangled as he hugged her about the waist. “I am sorry if I disappointed thee.”

  “On the contrary, thou hast neither annoyed nor disappointed me.” Resting forehead to forehead, he sighed. “But thou must remember thy station and mine, else I cannot maintain discipline, as the men will not respect me.”

  “I had not thought of that.” To his delight, she brushed her lips to his and wrapped her arms about his neck. “The bedframe and ropes art rotted. We should move ours hither; else we may end up on the floor. And I should sweep and scrub everything.”

  “Isolde, I would caution thee to take care of thy person, as I would prefer thy injuries heal that we might consummate our vows.” Given the depth of their regard, which had grown in so short a space of time, he anticipated a magical night. “Or would thou delay the singular event?”

  “Oh, no.” And now she favored him with her shy smile, which never failed to stir his blood. “But I would do my duty as chatelaine.”

  “Precisely.” He rocked on his heels. “Thou art no scullion, and we have servants. Thou dost need only to direct them.”

  “But I have strict standards, sir. As thou dost well know.” Then, to his surprise, she kissed him, his ears rang, his blood stirred, and the one-eyed stallion reared its head. Some day soon, he promised himself the simple expression of affection would no longer startle him, but at that moment she captivated him.

  “Margery bade me clean the fireplace and—” Turning to the side, Pellier cleared his throat. “Beg thy pardon, Sir Arucard. Should I come back anon?”

  “Nay.” To his chagrin, Arucard set his bride on the floor. “Lady Isolde and I were just assessing our rooms.”

  “That is precisely what I thought.” Pellier’s sly smile declared otherwise, and Arucard ignored his marshalsea. “Permit me to build a fire, and thou may continue inspecting the fertile surroundings and, perchance, spark another blaze.”

  “Very funny.” Arucard grimaced.

  “My lord, look.” Aglow with joy, and attempting to hide her charming pink cheeks, his wife jumped and pointed to the rear wall. “We have glazed windows. Is that not wonderful?”

  “I suppose.” He shrugged. “Does it make thee happy?”

  “Yea.” As she admired the glass inserts, she trailed her finger along the casement. “I should wash them, but they art in fine form, and we will be grateful for them when winter arrives.”

  “Art thou always so practical?” Baring his teeth, Arucard distracted his shy bride, as Pellier waggled his brows and thrust his hips in a crude gesture. “And what lovely tapestries hang in the solar.”

  “Indeed, they art exquisite and very heavy, which will shield us from the cold. Mayhap thou could help me take them down, as I must beat them.” How quickly she changed purpose, when all Arucard could think of was what would eventually occur in the inner chamber. “Canst thou unfasten the frame?”

  “Of course.” As she perched on tiptoes, he reached above her and unhooked the moun
t. Then he rolled the heavy wall hanging and set it on the table in the solar. “I suppose thou would clean the other two, as well?”

  “Yea, as I would not unpack our belongings until everything is scrubbed.” With Isolde’s supervision, he retrieved the other coverings. “If thou would carry the tapestries into the courtyard, I will ask Anne to beat them, if that will satisfy thee.”

  “It will.” When Pellier snickered, Arucard groaned. “But I would ask thee to take care of thy person, as thou art precious to me.”

  In the hall, Isolde spun about and faced him, and her hopeful expression touched him beyond words. “Am I?”

  “Aye.” Adjusting the load on his shoulder, he eased an arm about her waist and drew her near. “I understand it not, as our situation is still quite new to me, but I speak the truth.”

  “No one has ever manifested such sentiments for me, and I treasure thy declaration.” Given her tear-filled gaze, he doubted her not, and in silence he cursed her father for the cruelty she suffered at his hands. “My lord, thou art precious to me, too. And like thee, I am confused in relation to my feelings, but do not let that diminish the depth of my regard for thee.”

  A small army of servants scurried about, and with great reluctance he released his bride. Together, they strolled into the courtyard; whither Aristide had set fire to several piles of trash, per Isolde’s request.

  “Brother, we found a postern gate on the south wall.” Geoffrey wiped his brow. “The drawbridge ropes art in disrepair, so we must replace them, and we could use thy assistance.”

  “Thither I will be, anon.” Arucard glanced at his wife. “Whither shall I deposit the tapestries?”

  “In the corner.” She pointed. “I shall ask Anne to erect temporary frames, so we can beat the fabrics free of dust and dirt.”

  “All right.” He did as she bade and then caught her chin. “Remember what I said. Thou art no scullery maid. Thou art the lady of the castle, and I would have thee behave as such, if for no other reason than to preserve thy health, which is dear to me.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Grinning, she sketched a half-curtsey.