Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)

by Catherine Kean, Anna Markland, Elizabeth Rose, Laurel ODonnell, Barbara Devlin, SueEllen Welfonder, Amy Jarecki

  Edouard strode to Dominic’s side. “Allow me.” As the mercenary lunged, Edouard swung his blade in a brutal arc. With a clash of metal, his sword met the mercenary’s, whose weapon tilted close to Kaine’s stomach.

  “Oy! Careful!” Kaine hobbled backward. “I hoped you were rescuing me.”

  Before Veronique’s thug could recover his hold on his weapon, Edouard set the tip of his blade against the man’s neck.

  “Drop the sword,” he growled.

  Dominic whistled. “Best do as he says. He looks more than ready to slaughter you.”

  The mercenary’s eyes narrowed. Then, with a loud clank, the sword landed by his boots.

  “A wise decision.” Dominic flexed his fingers. “I do apologize for what I must do now.” Drawing his arm back, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. The oaf fell to his knees, then to his side on the stones.

  “A bit dishonorable, that,” Dominic said with a wry shrug. “We cannot have these louts sneaking up on us, though, while we tend to other matters.” Sympathy crept into his gaze. “Not when we have a fair damsel to rescue.”

  A flush warmed Edouard’s face, and he looked at Kaine. “Are you all right?”

  “Apart from my leg.” He grimaced. “It hurts like hellfire. I am not certain how much use I will be in the battle.”

  “You can guard these mercenaries,” Dominic said, bending down to pick up the fallen sword and handing it to Kaine.

  “If they wake,” Edouard added, “wallop them again.”

  Kaine grinned. “That, I will be more than pleased to do.”

  Edouard glanced back at Juliana, his pulse lurching to see her still trapped against Tye. He’d pulled her closer to the battlement’s edge, nearer to Veronique.

  Juliana’s frantic stare locked with Edouard’s, and concern, heightened by anger, blazed within him. Stay brave, Juliana. We will rescue you. This I vow, upon my very soul.

  “Good luck,” Edouard said to Kaine, before he pivoted on his heel and headed back to his father, aware of Dominic striding close behind.

  When Edouard reached his father’s side, he could barely control the rage crackling inside him. Tye had his arm pressed up under Juliana’s bosom, a far too intimate hold for Edouard’s liking. Moreover, Tye stood with a merlon at his back, and far enough away from the battlement’s edge that he couldn’t be hit by the archers below—a sign that Tye had noted Aldwin’s abilities.

  “At last, you have rejoined us.” Veronique adjusted her grip on the knife. “We waited for you, before killing her.”

  A sigh shivered from Juliana.

  Edouard clenched his teeth. “Father?”

  “She wanted you to see Juliana perish,” his sire said, “although I assured her that would not happen.”

  Edouard barely choked down a shocked roar. Had his father not promised he had this situation under control? Why, then, was Juliana’s life still endangered? Why had his sire not ordered his men-at-arms, standing motionless behind him, to attack Tye and save her?

  “Poor Edouard. I see your disappointment.” Veronique sneered. “Your beloved father has failed you.”

  “Nay, Veronique. Look below,” Edouard’s sire said. “My men-at-arms are winning the battle.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Geoffrey—”

  “My loyal knights and men-at-arms were ordered to take control of this keep, level by level. They will. They are loyal to me, because I earned their respect. Your mercenaries do not care about loyalty. They swore allegiance to you only for the coins you paid them.”

  “Enough. Tye—”

  “They have realized your cause is lost,” Edouard’s sire continued, “and are escaping while they still can.” He waved to the space between the merlons. “See for yourself. The drawbridge is crowded with people fleeing.”

  Tye’s expression darkened. “Mother?”

  Veronique glared at her son. “Your father lies. How like him, to try and undermine us.”

  “Release Juliana,” Edouard’s sire commanded. “There is no advantage to killing her.”

  Tye’s gaze narrowed. His fingers tightened on his sword.

  “Your lives are all you have left,” Edouard’s sire said. His gaze slid for the briefest moment to Dominic, standing at his left side. “If you wish to leave this wall walk alive . . .”

  Realization hummed through Edouard. Left. A secret command.

  “He is right. Do you not agree, Edouard?” Dominic added.

  Tye scowled. For the barest moment, his gaze flicked toward the gap in the stones.

  “Go!” his lordship roared.

  Raising his sword, Edouard lunged for Tye’s right side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dominic racing for Tye’s left.

  Veronique shrieked and slashed with her dagger, even as Edouard heard brisk footfalls. His sire and the men-at-arms were closing in on her.

  Cursing, Tye tried to position his sword, but Dominic shoved his blade’s tip against Tye’s shoulder blade. “Do not be a fool.”

  His weapon at the ready, Edouard halted before Tye, near enough to reach out and touch Juliana. The sword Tye still held hovered, a physical barrier separating them. Tears streamed from her eyes. He caught her sweet fragrance, blended with the essence of fear, and his gut twisted. “Let her go,” he said quietly.

  Tye glowered. “You will kill me, if I refuse?”

  “If I must.”

  “Attack me, and she and I will both die.”

  “Not necessarily,” Edouard said with a growl.

  Juliana’s mouth quivered.

  “She means so much to you, Brother?”

  “Aye.” The acknowledgment came easily. From his heart.

  “Edouard,” she whispered.

  Tye’s face contorted. The bastard was beaten, but still he meant to hurt her? Edouard should have expected no less. Tye had been raised by Veronique.

  Edouard loosed a furious cry and brought his sword up.

  Tye’s arm fell from Juliana’s waist.

  She raced to Edouard, her soft warmth pressing against him. He kept a firm grip on his sword, while his other arm wrapped around her.

  Through a giddy rush of relief, he caught Dominic’s grunt of pain.

  Heard the arcing swish of a sword.

  Sensed Tye’s attack.

  ***

  Juliana clung to Edouard. Her body shook with terror and exhaustion, but joy sang like a bright melody within her. Tye had let her go; there was some sense of honor in his treacherous soul, after all.

  “Juliana,” Edouard gasped.

  Then she sensed it: movement, behind her.

  She whirled, at the same instant Edouard shoved her away. Tye, his face twisted with bitterness, slashed his sword down toward Edouard’s chest.

  Clang. Clang.

  Steel sparked, marking the fury of their blows. Her hand pressed to her throat, Juliana didn’t dare look away. The two brothers struck at each other. Again. And again.

  “Bastard!” Edouard snarled.

  “Kill me now,” Tye mocked. “Do it.”

  They were only five paces from Veronique. She stood at the edge of the wall walk between two merlons, silk gown flapping in the wind, her knife lost. Her fingers were raised like claws against de Lanceau and the men-at-arms who’d trapped her.

  “Surrender, Veronique,” de Lanceau shouted.

  “Surrender?” She arched her brows. “I would rather die than be your prisoner.”

  “You have nowhere left to go,” his lordship said. “You cannot defeat us. You cannot run.”

  Veronique’s crimson lips parted on raucous laughter.

  “Veronique!” de Lanceau bellowed. “Surrender! If you refuse, I will—”

  She spun to look down at the bailey. “Good-bye, Geoffrey.”

  “Nay—!” De Lanceau grabbed for her.

  She jumped.

  “God’s teeth!” Dominic gasped. Juliana raced with him to the side of the battlement, where de Lanceau peered down, shaking his head.
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br />   Far down in the bailey, Veronique tried to rise from where she’d fallen onto several dead servants. Grimacing, her movements slow and her left arm listing at an odd angle, she pushed to her knees.

  “She cannot get away,” de Lanceau growled and gestured to two of his men-at-arms.

  The men ran for the stairwell.

  Steel clashed close by, and Juliana again looked at the two brothers, still fighting. Sweat dripped from their faces. Had Edouard suffered any wounds? She hoped not.

  “Yield, Tye,” de Lanceau yelled. “The battle is over.” He signaled to Edouard. Reluctance tautened Edouard’s features, but he stepped away from Tye, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. He did not, however, lower his sword.

  Juliana forced herself to remain still, although she longed to throw herself into Edouard’s arms.

  Tye’s gaze sharpened as he looked at Dominic, de Lanceau, and the man-at-arms, then at the empty space where Veronique had stood moments before. “Where—?”

  “Your mother leapt over the side,” de Lanceau said. “She abandoned you.”

  “What?” Edging sideways, his sword ready to deflect any assault, he approached the gap. Bracing his left hand on the merlon beside him, he leaned slightly backward over the edge to glance down; he clearly didn’t want to turn his back to his foes. Juliana sensed the moment he saw Veronique. His lips flattened.

  “She is wounded,” de Lanceau said. “She cannot get far. My men will take her prisoner.”

  “And?” Tye dared another look at the bailey. The awkward position forced him to strain his body backward. If he lost his balance . . .

  “She will be imprisoned in my dungeon. I will see her brought to trial—”

  A strangled sound, akin to a curse, broke from Tye. His body wavered, as though buffeted by a breeze, and then his sword pitched downward. Even as Juliana wondered why, she realized he’d lost his grip on the merlon.

  “Tye!” she and Dominic called in unison. She ran to the wall walk’s edge, aware of the man-at-arms following close behind.

  Tye’s sword clattered on the stone near them.

  With a guttural cry, he dropped from view.

  “Oh, God,” Juliana cried, peering over the edge. Muttering under his breath, de Lanceau elbowed aside the man-at-arms and stood in the windblown gap.

  “Tye!” His roar spread down over the bailey.

  As Juliana’s gaze slid toward the ground, movement and a choked breath snared her attention. She barely held back a horrified moan. Just a short reach away, Tye dangled from the wall walk by one hand.

  “Father!” Edouard shouted.

  “I see him.” Boots scraped as de Lanceau knelt and reached down. “Give me your hand, Tye,” he said roughly. He sounded as though he fought intense emotion.

  Sweat streamed from Tye’s face. His lips pulled away from his teeth as he said, “Why?”

  “I will save you.”

  A sob jammed in Juliana’s throat. Take the offer of help, Tye. Take it!

  Tye’s weight-bearing arm began to tremble. Bitterness contorted his features into a mask of anguish. “Why bother to rescue me? I am naught to you. You wish I had never been born. What do you care, Father, if I fall and die?”

  An expression close to pain flickered across his lordship’s features, before it disappeared behind stern resolve. “Take my hand. I will pull you up.”

  Do not be a stubborn fool, Tye. Accept his help!

  Tye’s throat moved with a swallow. “You want to save me because . . . I am your son?”

  Torment darkened de Lanceau’s eyes. His jaw hardened. “I save you because there is honor even between enemies.”

  Tye’s white-knuckled fingers began to slip from the stone.

  “Hurry!” de Lanceau yelled. “For God’s sake!”

  Tye grinned, a hateful, almost sad twist of his lips, and plummeted toward the ground.

  A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Tye survived the fall,” Edouard said, just as his father exhaled a sigh and rose.

  “He is injured.” Juliana’s voice cracked, implying she hated to see Tye hurt. Edouard struggled to control a flare of jealousy and dismay.

  Pain contorted Tye’s features as he pushed up from the dirt. He stumbled to his feet, wavering for a moment like a drunkard. Even as Edouard acknowledged his bastard brother’s survival, a sense of relief rushed through him. ’Twas ridiculous, since he despised Tye. But he couldn’t deny that the haunted look in Tye’s eyes, in the tense moments before he’d fallen, had affected him.

  “Tye and Veronique will try and escape,” his sire said, his tone rough. “I will not allow it. Dominic.”

  “Aye, milord?”

  “I want both of them captured, bound, and well guarded. Tell the other men fighting in the bailey. I will join you there in a moment.”

  Dominic nodded, then ran to the stairwell and disappeared inside.

  Flexing his hand on his sword, Edouard tried to tamp down a rising sense of misgiving. He should follow Dominic and help secure the bailey; ’tis what was expected of him as a future heir, especially when the din rising from below indicated that the battle, while less frenzied than before, was still ongoing.

  Heading to the bailey, though, would mean Juliana was out of his sight. He’d almost lost her a short while ago. Watching her confront death had nearly ripped his soul from his chest. He couldn’t leave her, not with Veronique and Tye still to be captured. Not when he’d come to realize how much he loved her.

  “Father,” he began, “I—”

  His sire, wiping his brow, swayed, as though about to topple over.

  “Lord de Lanceau!” Juliana cried.

  Lunging forward at the same time as the man-at-arms, Edouard readied to grab his sire’s arm and prop him upright if need be. “Father, what is wrong? Were you wounded?”

  Refusing assistance with a wave of his hand, de Lanceau steadied himself and drew in a few strong breaths. “I am not injured. I am not fully recovered from my illness, ’tis all.”

  “You should sit for a moment. Regain your strength.”

  His sire grunted. “Edouard, you sound just like your mother.”

  “She is a clever woman. And always right.” Edouard couldn’t resist a grin.

  His sire’s lips tilted in a grudging smile before he glanced down into the bailey. Frowning, he shook his head. “I will not rest. Not before Tye and Veronique are my prisoners. Not before this keep is secured to my satisfaction.”

  Protest welled inside Edouard. His sire looked exhausted. His reactions could be impeded; he might make a grave error during the fighting and be injured or killed. But even as the words gathered on Edouard’s tongue, he forced them to silence. His father was a proud man and far too stubborn to yield to any infirmity. Moreover, his warrior’s sense of duty was too tightly woven into his nature, his hatred for Veronique too ingrained, for him to consider quitting the battle now.

  How well Edouard knew his father’s reasons, for those would be his reasons, too, if he were in his parent’s place.

  “I will gladly fight alongside you and Dominic, Father,” Edouard said. He looked at Juliana. “But there is an important matter I vow should be attended to first.”

  “What matter?” While his sire spoke, he tightened his grip on his broadsword. A muscle jumped in his cheek, a sign he was eager to join the fight.

  “Landon Ferchante’s gold ring—the one you entrusted to him—is hidden in the solar. Veronique and Tye wanted to get hold of that ring and use it to gain admittance to your court and then murder you.”

  His sire’s gaze sharpened. “You were right to mention this to me.”

  “Juliana is the only one who knows where the jewels are hidden,” Edouard said.

  “Mayda told me days before she died, milord,” Juliana said. “Before her lord husband pushed her off the wall walk and killed her.”

  “Landon? God’s blood! Are you sure?”

  She
nodded, grief in her gaze. “I witnessed her murder, milord. That is why I was hit about the head and left for dead in the river.”

  “What of the newborn? Is she here? Safe?”

  “Veronique ordered Rosemary killed. Azarel managed to get her to safety in the village. Milord, there is a great deal more I must tell you, especially concerning Landon’s affair with Veronique and her influence at the keep.”

  “Veronique murdered Landon,” Edouard added. “He tried to contact you, Father, after I was taken captive, and she found out.”

  His sire clenched his free hand into a fist. “Azarel mentioned Landon’s killing to me. ’Tis yet another crime for which Veronique will be punished. Once this fight is won, I want full accounts from both of you. What you say will be documented, for the day she is brought to trial. Meanwhile, Juliana, I want you to go to the solar.” He pointed to the remaining man-at-arms. “He will escort you, and I will send more warriors to stand guard with him outside the chamber. Lock the door. Do not recover the jewels. Do not open the door, either, till you hear three knocks and either my voice or Edouard’s beyond.”

  “Aye, milord.” She dipped in a curtsey.

  “Thank you, Lady de Greyne, for all your help,” Edouard’s father said. Looking over at Kaine, he said, “I will send reinforcements to help you defend the wall walk. Edouard, come with me.”

  When his sire strode for the stairwell, Edouard loped after him. The thrill of battle licked like greedy fire in his blood, tempered, though, by worry for Juliana. Soon she’d be gone from his sight.

  As he brushed past her, he slowed, touched her arm. “Be careful. Promise me.” There is so much I will say to you, Juliana, once this is over.

  Her eyes bright, she whispered, “I promise.”

  ***

  Juliana hurried into the stairwell’s shadows. With the man-at-arms leading the way, they proceeded to the solar with the same caution Edouard had taken when they’d escaped from the tower.

  How eerily quiet the passageways seemed, almost as though the keep had been abandoned. A good sign, she decided, as they neared the corridor leading to the solar. Most of the castle folk must be in the bailey, fighting to save Waddesford.

  After halting before the iron-banded door of the solar, the man-at-arms leaned close to it and listened. Apart from her own breathing, Juliana heard only the crackle of the passageway torches.