Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I-I…,” swallowing hard, she backed away, narrowly avoiding another dancer as Breck advanced. “I am also fatigued. I am sure there is another lady who would b-be happy to dance with you.”

  “I do not want to dance with another lady,” Breck insisted seductively. “I want to dance with you. The most beautiful woman in the entire room.”

  Summer succeeded in backing out of the group of revelers without further collision, nearly tripping over a chair flanking the crowded floor when she finally directed herself clear. She was well across the room from her assigned table and well away from those who would protect her from Breck’s advance. Quickly noting that she was on her own until she could move within sight of the head table, she sought to steady her nerves.

  “I do not wish to dance, Sir B-Breck,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “If you will excuse me, Sir B-Bose and my brothers await.”

  She moved to evade him but he put out an arm, bracing it against a supporting beam and effectively blocking her escape. Summer wrinkled her nose at the repugnant stench of body odor reeking from the man’s tunic, swallowing the bile in her throat as he smiled lasciviously.

  “Sir Bose and your brothers have had the pleasure of your company all eve,” he said. “’Twould be polite of them to share you with your other admirers.”

  A glimmer of impatience took hold. “I have no desire to be shared as if I were a c-common tart for the taking,” she said snappishly. “Move your arm and be quick about it.”

  He cocked a red brow. “My, my, how unfriendly. Mayhap if you came to know me better, your hostile attitude would ease.”

  “I have no desire to know you b-better. Move aside or I’ll call a guard.”

  Breck’s first reaction was to flare; disobedience in a woman was intolerable and he banked the impulse to slap her. Instead, he forced himself to calm for the sheer fact that if he became angry, his goals would most certainly not be accomplished. Duncan had brought the lady directly into his fold; it was now up to Breck to take advantage of the situation.

  “Forgive me if I seem overbearing, my lady,” his manner was calm and sorrowful. “’Tis just that… well, the moment I saw you this morn in the lodges, I swore I had never seen anything quite so beautiful. And I suppose my aggressive actions are merely my emotional impulses gaining the better of my self-control. Truly, I never meant to offend or harm. I would simply like to share a moment of your time. Women don’t usually take easily to me; I am not a handsome man. I have had to learn to be aggressive when dealing with women.”

  Summer listened to his speech. He seemed quite sincere and, being a bit naïve when it came to conniving men, she began to feel somewhat sorry for him. With a sigh, she eyed him closely; indeed, he was an ugly soul and Summer realized she had judged his character based on his pocked appearance and her brother’s ramblings. After she had heard the horrid stories how the man had broken Stephan’s wrist last year, it was only natural that she considered Breck Kerry an individual to avoid.

  Had she believed her brothers’ tales of Bose’s murderous instincts, she would have never come to know the man with the golden heart and gentle nature. Aye, her brothers had been wrong about Bose. Mayhap they were wrong about Breck, too.

  “Very well,” she said quietly. “I am rather thirsty and I suppose we could share a c-conversation as I refresh myself.”

  Breck looked pleasantly surprised. Not merely surprised, shocked. Swallowing his astonishment, his arm dropped from Summer’s path.

  “I… God’s Blood, I suppose we could sit at my table. I’ll have a steward fetch wine immediately,” as Summer moved hesitantly in the indicated direction, a brief glimpse of the courtyard beyond the open hall doors captured Breck’s attention and he stopped her, his wickedly clever mind moving into the realm of more private, intimate surroundings. By all means, man, get her alone!

  “Wait, my lady,” he grasped her gently by the arm. “It is rather warm in the hall. Mayhap a walk in the night air would refresh you more than a goblet of tepid wine?”

  Summer gazed to the yawning entry, the landscape beyond bathed in silver light. Drinking wine with the man in a room full of guests was one matter, but strolling alone with him in the moonlight was entirely another and her attempt to make amends for her judgmental attitude was fading fast. Even if the man truly possessed a heart of gold beneath his unattractive facade, he was stinky and aggressive and she simply did not like him. In the light or in the dark.

  “I think not, my lord,” she said truthfully. “I would share a goblet of wine and t-then return to my table.”

  Breck, however, would not be so easily dissuaded. “Come along, my lady,” he grasped her arm firmly, pulling her toward the portal. “A walk beneath the stars will do wonders for your fatigue. We could even stroll to the stables and take a look at my charger. My father had him shipped all the way from Italy.”

  Summer tried to pull away from him, but his grip was tight. Whether or not she was willing, Breck seemed to be leading her directly for the exit. “I do not like horses, my lord. And I am entirely too exhausted to walk about the courtyard. P-Please, can we sit?”

  Breck appeared not to hear her. He continued to drag her across the floor, oblivious to her attempts to break his grip. His boney fingers were bruising the tender flesh of her upper arm and Summer looked in the direction of the head table in desperation; she could scarcely see the end of it through the crowd, but noting that Bose’s wicked mother-in-law apparently had a bird’s-eye view of her situation. She swore she saw the woman smile.

  Summer’s slippers scuffed the stone as Breck pulled her through the opening and into the ghostly light. In the dusty bailey there were several crews of sentries and Summer’s panic faded somewhat; should there be any true aggression on Breck’s part, all she need do is scream for assistance. Therefore, she sharply yanked her arm free of the zealous knight’s grasp.

  “Unhand me,” she said irritably, straightening her mussed gown. “I told you that I did not wish to walk with you.”

  Breck’s face was hauntingly ugly beneath the moonglow. “I…I did not mean to offend. Oft times, ladies say no when in fact they mean the opposite. It is simply a matter of making a firm decision on the lady’s behalf.”

  Summer’s expression was lined with annoyance. “When I declined your invitation, I meant it. I w-would return to the hall this instant.”

  “But….”

  “Now.”

  Breck eyed her, laboring to keep his irritation at bay. Defiant women went against the natural course of the universe and it was a struggle not to punish her for her rebellious demand. In lieu of physical retaliation, he settled for mental instead. It was far more painful if done correctly.

  “Return you to de Moray?” he asked softly, with bitter amusement. “God’s Blood, I cannot believe your father has allowed the man to pursue you given his reputation and dark history.”

  Summer immediately bristled. “I’ll not hear you r-repeat the slanderous lies within my presence, for they are untrue.”

  Breck’s expression washed with a good deal of forced pity. “I have been on the tournament circuit six years, my lady, well before the arrival of Bose de Moray. I have known the man since his appearance and I can only say that I have seen nothing to refute the common hearsay. Suffice it to say that Sir Bose carries a frightening reputation toward man and woman alike.”

  Breck’s aggressive actions forgotten, Summer found herself outraged by his accusations. Unwilling to tolerate his slander, her small fists rested angrily on her hips.

  “His reputation is the result of his mother-in-law’s demented sense of vengeance and nothing more. Her daughter, B-Bose’s wife, died in childbirth and the woman somehow b-blames him for the incident. He did not kill her, Sir Breck. He loved her.”

  Breck’s gaze held even. “So he has told you. What did you expect? Did you truly believe he would tell you the truth of the matter, considering his interest in you?”

  Summer’s jaw went s
lack with fury. “How dare you say such terrible things! Clearly, you d-do not know him at all!”

  “I have known him longer than you have,” Breck was enjoying her anger. “I have seen him in action all of these years, Lady Summer. I have seen his moods and tactics and his interaction with others. Believe me when I say that the Bose de Moray you know is not the true man beneath. Certainly, I am only concerned with your safety.”

  Summer’s breathing gained pace, her fury spreading like the ripples on the surface of a pond. Of course she did not believe the knight’s lies for one moment. But for the fact that he was continuing to spout his defamation, she was growing increasingly agitated and her stammering began to worsen.

  “You have n-no such concerns,” she hissed, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment and rage. “You are a selfish, p-petty man and I’ll have nothing more to d-do with you.”

  She turned sharply on her heel as Breck reached out, snatching her by the arm. Summer gasped as pain cut though her tender limb, his strong fingers biting into her upper arm. But far more than the pain, the fact that Breck had managed to pull her against his silk-clad chest disturbed her deeply.

  “Listen to me well, beautiful lady,” his foul breath was in her face, gagging her. “My concern is indeed for your welfare. Why else do you think I would risk de Moray’s wrath by seeking to be alone with you? Truly, it was the only way I could attempt to convince you of his cloaking evil. You must understand that he will do or say anything to gain your trust and you must be aware of his tactics.”

  “As will you, I am sure,” her voice was as quiet as it was spiteful. “Release me this m-moment or you will deeply regret your actions.”

  Breck continued to stare at her, his eyes sharp and glittering. “What will it take to convince you, my lady? Your own death?”

  She tried to pull away but he would not release her. Angry, fearful and exhausted, she attempted to slap at him but he effectively quelled her weak attempts. When she continued to struggle, he shook her brutally to cease her squirming.

  “Answer me,” he hissed, his even tone vanished. “What will it take to convince you of de Moray’s evil?”

  “He is not evil,” she grunted, wincing at the fierceness of his grip. “His mother-in-law is the evil one for spreading such lies. And you are evil for b-believing them.”

  Breck was coming to enjoy the smell of her rose fragrance; in spite of her speech impediment, she was a tremendously beautiful woman. Her comeliness was almost enough to cause him to overlook her defect, but truthfully not enough of a distraction. Even so, her soft body and delicious scent were most tantalizing.

  “If I cannot convince you, at least allow yourself to explore the possibilities of the truth,” he said. “Mayhap you should ask his dead wife’s mother for the facts of the matter.”

  Unaware of Breck’s lustful thoughts, Summer struggled not to vomit at the smell of his repulsive breath. “I will not,” she groaned, striving to pull free of his grasp. “She is a b-barbaric, malevolent woman and she shall only fill my ears with more of her fabrications.”

  Breck stared at her a moment, a measure of curiosity taking hold at the implication of her words. “Then…then you have met her?”

  Summer succeeded in pulling one arm free. “Unfortunately.”

  Breck seemed to be unconcerned with the limb she had released from his grip, peering strangely at her as she endeavored to free the other. Knowing from his brother’s information that the isolated young woman had never traveled out of Chaldon’s province, that factor alone led him to believe that the very woman needed to support his cause was not in London as had been speculated. She must be here at Chaldon.

  “When did you meet her?” he asked.

  Summer hissed with exasperation as she struggled to peel his fingers from her arm. “She arrived this morning.” Realizing she would be unsuccessful in removing his hand from her arm, she slapped at the appendage in frustration. “Release me, Breck Kerry. I d-demand it!”

  In the midst of her struggles, Summer never saw the action that sent Breck to his knees, finally releasing his hold on her arm. Suddenly, he was falling away from her as a great shadow blocked out the silver-cast moon, enveloped them both in an eerie darkness. Strong, gentle hands steadied her as Bose abruptly came into focus, his massive body coiled with fury.

  Brushing her hair from her eyes, Summer was astounded as Bose delivered another powerful blow, sending Breck sprawling to the ground in a spray of blood. As he balled his fist for another punch, Summer found her tongue.

  “Bose!” she cried. “Please… n-no more!”

  Immediately, Bose’s momentum came to a halt and he turned his focus to her. It was the most frightening expression Summer had yet to see on his face.

  “N-No more,” in spite of his dark countenance, she reached out to grasp his arm. “H-H-He… H-H-He….”

  Bose unclenched his fist, straightening from his hovering position over a supine Breck. “Calm yourself, love,” he said, his tender voice far removed from the threatening expression. “Take a deep breath and speak slowly.”

  Swallowing, Summer responded to his gentle tone and her grip upon his arm tightened. As Breck writhed about in the dirt, Summer pressed against Bose’s massive torso, the warmth and power of his flesh calming and comforting her more than anything she had ever experienced. Smiling weakly, she was deeply relieved when he wrapped a massive arm around her.

  “B-Breck is not to blame,” she said quietly, hoping he would not become angry with her. “I accompanied him of m-my own free will. The hall was stuffy and you were b-busy with my father, and B-Breck offered to escort me into the fresh air.”

  Bose’s smile faded. “Did you also give him permission to touch you?”

  She shook her head, eyeing the battered knight as he pushed himself to his knees. Even if she did not want Bose to beat him senseless, she would not lie to protect his bold intentions. “N-Nay. Never.”

  Bose’s tender gesture faded completely. Releasing Summer from his embrace, he motioned to his knights standing several feet away. As Summer came to understand that she was to be placed within the company of his men, she balked.

  “Nay, Bose,” she said, clutching him firmly. “No further punishment. Come into the hall with me now and we shall dance. P-please?”

  He patted her cheek sweetly. “Indeed we shall after I have finished punishing Breck for his boldness against my betrothed.”

  Summer forgot about Breck. She stared at Bose, her eyes widening with understanding. “B-B-Be…B-B-Betrothed?”

  The corner of his black eyes crinkled. “Indeed. Ian, in fact, was most persuasive. Far more than I ever believed him to be capable.”

  Summer’s mouth popped open. “Truly?” she whispered. “Father g-gave his permission?”

  Bose was dangerously close to forgetting his duty to punish the aggressive knight. All that mattered at the moment was Summer’s luscious lips, her incredibly beautiful face, as he gazed deeply into dark golden eyes.

  “A tentative agreement,” he replied softly, stroking her cheek once more. “In his drunken state, it was all I was able to wrangle. Certainly, we shall speak more on the subject tomorrow after I have emerged victorious in the joust.”

  Summer could scarcely believe what she had been told. Just as Bose began to wonder if she understood his words, suddenly, she let out a whoop of joy and clapped her hands together in a gesture of pure delight. All laughter and silks and rose-scented perfume, she threw her arms around his neck and he joined her excitement, whirling her about in a joyous circle as his men looked on.

  The smiles of de Moray’s knights were wide enough to cheer God himself. It was the first true display of emotion their lord had allowed to surface in four years of grief. None of them had expected such a happening on the day they had arrived for Lance du Bonne’s tournament; even if they returned home defeated and poor, they would always recollect the trip to Chaldon Castle with the fondest memories, for their liege had gained the gr
andest prize of all.

  Bose spun Summer in circles, listening to her giggles of happiness, thinking the feel of her in his arms to be the most wonderful of sensations. He was so consumed with thoughts of a new future that he forgot about the collection of men observing his excitement. Before he could stop himself, his mouth was clinging to Summer’s tender lips and she giggled softly in joy and ardor, her arms tightly about his neck as her feet dangled off the ground.

  Somewhere in the midst of their bliss, however, Breck had managed to regain his footing with a good deal of effort. Grunting and off-balance, he watched de Moray and his lady with mounting hatred. Morgan caught sight of the beaten knight from the corner of his eye and turned to him.

  “Clear out, Kerry,” his voice was low. “If you’ve not vacated the bailey by the time I count ten, I’ll finish what Bose started.”

  Breck drew in a deep breath through his nose, fighting the nausea and dizziness that threatened. Still, he couldn’t help himself from his haughty retort.

  “I had no idea you could count, Skye,” he rumbled.

  Before Morgan could reply to the jibe, Breck was wisely retracing his steps toward the grand hall of Chaldon. When he was out of sight, Morgan tore his gaze away from him long enough to pass a final glance at Bose and Summer as they continued to nuzzle and kiss.

  “Mayhap we should return to the hall as well,” he suggested with a faint smile. “Bose seems to have the situation well in hand.”

  Tate cocked an auburn eyebrow. “He’s doing far better than the rest of us,” he snorted softly, ignoring Farl’s gentle shove on the shoulder. “In fact, I have yet to so much as speak with the lady I have championed for the better part of the tourney.”

  Adgar cast him a strange glance. “What’s this you say? How can you be her champion if you’ve never met her?”

  Tate smiled, a devilish gesture. “She is my secret lady, of course. Unbeknownst to her, I chose her on the day of our arrival and have yet to properly introduce myself. Considering she has been seated in the lodges with a bear of a man clad in fine silks, I have yet to work up the proper nerve.”