Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)

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

  Edouard’s boots thudded on the planks. As she reached the table, he came to stand beside her. She ignored the inconvenient warmth pooling within her, set the sketchbook flat on the table, and smoothed the pages.

  “’Tis a good likeness of Mayda.” Edouard studied the drawing of her ladyship standing before the trestle table, the fingers of her right hand touching the table top just above one of the three large drawers.

  “After Mayda told me of the hidden jewels,” Juliana said, glad of her steady voice, “I drew this picture of her, to help me remember her words.” Lifting up the hem of her skirts, she settled on her knees before the table.

  “Juliana.” Edouard made a small sound, akin to a groan; he obviously couldn’t believe she was down on the dusty floor. “Why—?”

  “You will see.” She patted the planks next to her.

  He dropped to a crouch, his boots creaking with the movement.

  “This table was a gift from Mayda’s parents,” Juliana said. “Part of her dowry. Now, if I remember what Mayda told me . . .” She pulled open the closest drawer. It slid easily, as though frequently used. Inside were sheaves of parchment, beeswax candles, a few quills, and sections of twine.

  With a brisk tug, Juliana removed the drawer and set it aside. Then, peering into the empty space, she felt around the plain, rough-hewn back panel. “This table was specially commissioned by Mayda’s parents,” Juliana said, while her fingers explored the wood. “Her father suspected a traitor in their household, so he had this table built. From underneath, the framework all looks the same, but Mayda said there is . . . Ah.” A slight shifting of the panel told Juliana she’d found the right spot. She pressed. With a muffled scrape, the wood fell away, revealing a concealed section.

  Reaching in, she drew out a cloth bag. The contents inside shifted with a musical clink.

  Edouard chuckled. “The ring was within Veronique’s reach all along. Judging by the sound, many other jewels, too.”

  Juliana nodded, doing her best not to reveal how her stomach swooped at his velvety, roguish laughter. “Thankfully, Veronique did not suspect—”

  “Wait. There is something else.” Edouard brushed against Juliana as he reached inside; the mere drag of his garments against hers caused her to catch her breath. When he straightened, he held out a rolled parchment bound with twine.

  “Read it,” he said softly. “I suspect ’tis for you. You were the only one, besides Mayda, who knew of this hiding place.”

  Sudden dread trailed through Juliana as she handed him the jewels, then unfastened the parchment’s twine. Metal chimed. Glancing at Edouard, she saw that he’d tipped the bag’s contents into his palm and was fingering through the items, no doubt to make sure Landon’s gold ring was there.

  “Good,” he said under his breath. He must have found it.

  The missive unfurled, and Juliana recognized Mayda’s elegant handwriting. A shocked cry warbled from her.

  “Edouard,” she whispered. “Oh, God—”

  His broad hand cupped hers. “If you would rather read it later—”

  She shook her head. “It may be important.” Swallowing hard, she began to read.

  My dearest Juliana,

  If you are reading this missive, then I am dead. I do not leave this letter to place blame or bemoan the life I might have lived, if circumstances were different. I ask only that you remember me kindly, for you were, to me, the one joy in days that became increasingly bleak. Your loyalty, kindness, and companionship, my dear friend, were more precious to me than all the gold in the bag you likely now hold.

  As I vowed before, I give these jewels to you, to care for little Rosemary and to live a life that, I trust, will be filled with happiness. For true love, I realize now, is a most miraculous gift—one that was never mine, but that I wish, with all my heart, for you.

  With love,

  Mayda

  A sob broke from Juliana. As she pressed a hand to her mouth, she caught Edouard’s muffled oath. He shifted on the floor beside her, and then his arms were around her, drawing her close. How good it felt to have his strong warmth surrounding her.

  “Oh, Mayda,” Juliana sobbed.

  “May I read the letter?” Edouard’s voice rumbled next to her ear. She nodded, and he carefully took the parchment from her fingers. A moment later, he sighed against her hair. “’Tis clear she cared for you very much.”

  “When the battle is over, I must find Rosemary,” Juliana whispered.

  “We know she is being well cared for,” he soothed. “When ’tis safe to do so, we will find her.”

  We. Juliana pressed her lips together, fighting the onslaught of emotion carried by that tiny word. What she would give for Mayda’s wish for true love to come true. For Edouard to be her true love.

  “Come.” He gently eased her away, then coaxed her to her feet. “My father awaits.”

  A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Edouard led Juliana through the keep to the bailey, the armed men following a few paces behind. With every step, the relentless pressure inside Edouard intensified, for he guessed the matter his sire wished to discuss was the wedding to Nara.

  As Edouard entered the forebuilding descending to the bailey, his senses seemed even more attuned, somehow, to Juliana a few steps behind him: the lighter tap of her shoes on the stone; the whisper of her gown; the feeling of her gaze upon him. He’d never felt this acute sense of knowing for a woman before, but truth be told, he’d never met one as remarkable as Juliana. He longed to know her in all the honest, tender, pleasurable ways a man could know a woman.

  As he descended the last steps, he remembered the fetching pinkish hue that had warmed her face in the solar. Had she sensed the desire he’d barely managed to keep under control? Had she realized how hard he fought not to shove aside his irksome honor, draw her into his arms, and kiss her until she swooned?

  Just thinking about such a lusty kiss made his manhood swell.

  He silently groaned. No way in hellfire could he spend his life married to Juliana’s sister. If it took every bit of his willpower, he must tell his sire he wasn’t following through with the betrothal. He couldn’t bear to think about his father’s displeasure or the dishonor he’d bring to his family, but breaking his commitment to Nara was the only way he could kiss, touch, and love Juliana.

  They stepped into the daylight, and he heard her draw a sharp breath. She wasn’t used to seeing the gruesome aftermath of battle. Catching her hand, he gently squeezed it, then led her to the large crowd of men-at-arms guarding Veronique and Tye. The two stood with swords aimed at their throats, their backs against the wall. Several warriors held lengths of rope, clearly preparing to bind them.

  “Seeing them captured is a wondrous sight,” Juliana said.

  “I agree.”

  As though hearing Edouard’s voice, Veronique’s gaze shifted. Her hard stare locked with his, and shock jolted through him. The cruel bitch didn’t appear humbled or distressed. Triumph and resolve blazed in her eyes. Did she hold some kind of absurd hope of escaping? His sire would ensure that never happened. So would he.

  Edouard scowled at Veronique and looked for his father, who stood with Dominic and several men-at-arms. Judging by his gestures, he was relaying instructions. Still holding Juliana’s hand, Edouard drew her forward.

  His sire turned, as though alerted to Edouard’s approach, and smiled. Then his gaze slid to their entwined hands, and a frown knit his brow.

  Edouard felt Juliana tremble as he brought her before his father. Discreetly wriggling her fingers free, she dropped into a curtsey.

  “Father,” Edouard said, then noticed Dominic pressing a hand over a wound on his arm bandaged with a strip of cloth. “Are you all right?”

  “Tye managed to cut me before we grabbed his weapon and subdued him,” Dominic said. “I am glad I am not dead. He is an impressive swordsman. He could easily have slashed my ribs instead of my forearm.”

&
nbsp; Ignoring the unwelcome praise of Tye, Edouard asked, “Are you badly wounded?” Of all his father’s friends, he held the greatest respect for Dominic, who’d always treated him like a son.

  “I shall live.” Dominic waggled his eyebrows. “I am sure my lovely wife will take excellent care of me whilst I recover.”

  Edouard chuckled, while Dominic’s attention slid to Juliana. His gaze lit with a curious sparkle—one that hinted of news Edouard did not yet know. Was it related to the matter his sire wished to discuss?

  Impatience gnawed at Edouard, and he settled his gaze on his father. “As you ordered, we found Landon’s ring.” He held the gold band out to his sire. “Juliana has the other jewels.”

  “Good.” His sire took the ring and slid it onto his finger.

  “Mayda left her jewelry to Juliana. She wanted Juliana to sell the jewels to support her and the Ferchantes’ babe, if ill befell Mayda.”

  “I see.” His sire frowned again. “Juliana, you witnessed Mayda’s killing. It seems she anticipated her husband’s murderous rage. Did she sense that she might need to also protect her child’s life?”

  “Aye, milord,” Juliana said. “When she gave birth to a daughter, not a son, she was terrified of Landon rejecting the babe.”

  Edouard’s sire exhaled a sigh tinged with disbelief. “As the parent of a beautiful, intelligent daughter, I cannot imagine. Landon clearly became someone other than the lord I believed I knew and could trust.” His somber gaze locked with Edouard’s. “I am sorry for sending you into a trap. If I had known—”

  “Father, I understand.”

  Relief crept into his sire’s features. Then he asked, “What of the duty I asked you to conduct?”

  Edouard knew his father spoke of the secret meeting to ask Landon to join their rebellion against King John. No doubt his sire wanted to know if Landon might have told Veronique and Tye about it. “I was unable to fulfill what you asked of me. I was taken captive upon riding into the bailey. ’Tis the only time I saw Landon alive.”

  His sire nodded, and Edouard sensed his gladness that their ambitions against the king hadn’t been revealed. “In coming days, Son, there will be a need for meetings like the one I asked you to conduct with Landon, if you are willing.”

  “I am.”

  A smile softened his father’s features. “Good. I regret that you and Lady de Greyne endured such appalling treatment here. I am pleased, though, that in the end, you are unharmed and all has resolved well.”

  “If I may, milord,” Juliana said, her voice wavering, “Rosemary still has to be found. Azarel knows where she is. With your permission, I would like to ride to the village and bring her home.”

  Shouts carried from where Veronique and Tye were surrounded, and his lordship glanced at them. Appearing satisfied that all was in order, he looked back at Juliana. “With prisoners still to be dealt with in the bailey, I cannot spare men to ready your horse and escort you on that journey. However, I will speak to Azarel about Rosemary’s whereabouts.”

  Disappointment glinted in Juliana’s eyes, but she merely smiled. “Thank you, Lord de Lanceau.”

  Reaching out, Edouard caught her hand. Her fingers were cool and clammy, and he wished he could take her in his arms and give her a comforting hug.

  “Geoffrey,” Dominic muttered. “For God’s sake. Tell him.”

  Edouard frowned. “Tell me what?”

  With a polite but dismissive smile, his sire turned to Juliana. “Will you excuse us a moment, Lady de Greyne?”

  “Of course.” She curtsied, then strolled in the direction of the forebuilding, where Azarel was stitching the arm of a wounded knight. The way the sunlight played upon Juliana, accenting her willowy body . . . Edouard silently groaned. He had to address the issue of his unwanted betrothal.

  Looking back at his sire, he said, “What must you tell me?”

  His father, expression grim, shook his head. “I fear there is no easy way to say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Nara is . . . with child.”

  All of the air whooshed out of Edouard’s lungs. A merciless knot formed in his stomach. “Wait a moment.” He hauled in a strangled breath. “I did not . . . Nara and I did not . . . We never—”

  “I know. Dominic has confirmed you were living at his keep, fighting to protect his lands, and as celibate as a monk around the time Nara’s babe was conceived.”

  A stunned chuckle broke from Edouard.

  “’Tis a great dishonor,” his father went on, “for her to have betrayed you in this way.”

  The odd warmth in his sire’s voice made Edouard pause. “Honor is the reason I was forced into a betrothal to her.”

  “Aye. Lord de Greyne is most embarrassed about the situation and furious with Nara. As you are aware, he and I desired a blood alliance between our families. We have decided, however, she will marry the father of her babe, who is a man-at-arms in her sire’s garrison. You are no longer bound to your betrothal.”

  Relief rushed up inside Edouard, breaking from him in a roar. “’Tis wondrous news!”

  Raising his eyebrows, his sire said, “I am glad you are not too upset.”

  Heat warmed Edouard’s face. Now was the right moment. There couldn’t be a better one to talk about Juliana. Refusing to break his sire’s perceptive stare, he said, “I ask your permission, Father—”

  “Permission?” His sire’s gaze slid to Dominic.

  “I wish to marry Juliana.”

  “Ah. The sister that I believed might be well suited to you?”

  Was that teasing mirth in his parent’s eyes? Edouard said, “Aye.”

  His sire studied him a long moment. Sweat slid down Edouard’s spine. Did his father expect him to explain why? Divulge what qualities made her the right lady to be his wife? Admit that the thought of spending even one day without her left him empty inside?

  “I love her,” Edouard finally said. “I want no other woman.”

  “Well, you will need her father’s approval—”

  “I will ask it at my first opportunity—”

  “—as well, but since a betrothal between you was favored before . . .”

  As well. Edouard barely held down a triumphant whoop.

  “Do you agree then, Father?” He waited, holding his breath.

  “I do.”

  Edouard loosed an elated shout.

  “With Juliana entrusted with caring for Rosemary, though, you will not just become a husband, but a father. These are great responsibilities. Are you ready for them?”

  His sire spoke true. The thought of raising a babe was indeed daunting, but Juliana would teach Edouard what he needed to know. Stronger than the uncertainty niggling at him was a tremendous sense of excitement, a knowing that he’d face each day’s challenges with her. Together.

  “I am ready.”

  Admiration sparkled in his sire’s eyes. “You are. I am proud of you, Son.”

  “As am I.” Dominic smiled.

  “Waddesford Keep needs a new lord,” his sire went on, “a nobleman who knows his responsibilities. The folk here will support and no doubt welcome you, especially if you marry Juliana.”

  “You mean . . .” Shock made Edouard’s head reel. “I am to be appointed lord of this keep?”

  His sire grinned. “An early wedding gift. That is, if you want this fortress?”

  “Aye!” He glanced to where Juliana stood beside Azarel, chatting and smiling while helping to fasten a bandage.

  “Does she know you will propose marriage?” Dominic asked.

  “Not yet. I feel certain, though, she wants to wed, too.”

  “And you did not even have to push her into a well to convince her.”

  “Dominic,” Edouard’s sire muttered, with a hint of laughter.

  “Sorry. I could not resist.” Wincing as he moved, Dominic shook Edouard’s hand. “I am pleased for you. I trust you and Juliana will be very happy together.”

  “Thank you.” Edou
ard glanced again at Juliana. Love, pride, and excitement coalesced within him like a bright fire.

  Go to her. Don’t wait another moment to make her yours.

  Grinning, he said, “I must speak to Juliana. Before I do, Father, may I request a favor of you?”

  ***

  “Why have you brought me to the garden, Edouard? Azarel needs my help to tend the wounded.” Unable to quell her restlessness, Juliana glanced at the bailey. Edouard had waited for her while she’d helped Azarel care for a wounded knight, but there were many injured. She wanted to be useful, especially when she couldn’t leave for the village to get Rosemary.

  Seated beside her on the stone bench beneath the tree, Edouard said, “Azarel has quite a few servants helping her. I vow she can manage without you for a few moments. And”—his tone softened—“what I must tell you is too important to wait.”

  Her heart fluttered. Judging by his expression, his sire had told him something momentous, no doubt related to Nara. Juliana braced herself for unfavorable news. “Go on,” she said.

  His attention fell to her hands, clenched in her lap. Turning so that his knees bumped her legs, he leaned over and took both of her hands in his. The brush of his warm skin, slightly damp with sweat, was almost more than she could bear.

  “Edouard—” she pleaded.

  “There is . . . something I must say. But I must say it the right way.”

  Before she could try and guess his intentions, he released her hands and dropped to one knee on the grass. Light spilled through the overhead boughs onto him as he took her right hand. He suddenly looked nervous.

  Her heart thundered in her breast. Mayhap she’d heard too many romantic chansons, but surely he wouldn’t be down on one knee unless . . .

  Shaking his head, he set her hand back into her lap. “’Tis not right at all.”

  “Edouard! What . . ?”

  He reached under the bench and snapped a long blade of grass, then picked up her hand again. Lifting her ring finger, he looped the grass around it several times. Then he tied the ends to form a makeshift ring.

  Her eyes filling with tears, she stared at him. “How can this be? You are betrothed to Nara.”