Marked By Honor

by Alexa Aston

  And Raynor had searched high and low for Geoffrey when he disappeared the day after he wed.

  When Geoffrey failed to turn up, Raynor began to spend more time at Kinwick, watching over Merryn and the twins. He’d fantasized they were his. He loved children and had spent so much time with Ancel and Alys—cheering their first steps, helping them learn to ride—it seemed as if he had sired them.

  More importantly, he found himself falling deeply in love with Geoffrey’s widow, a woman of considerable intelligence and astounding beauty. Yet, she had only looked upon him as a close friend whom she could depend upon. When a much-changed Geoffrey returned after being gone close to seven years, Raynor had not trusted this stranger. Especially when his comrade refused to reveal where he’d been and why he stayed away from his home for so long.

  It took Geoffrey’s being secretly imprisoned by Sir Symond Benedict in the Kinwick dungeons and a trip to see King Edward himself before Raynor learned of the plot Lord Berold of Winterbourne had concocted. Only then, did Raynor understand how his cousin had suffered for many years apart from his family, with no hope of ever returning to them.

  That nightmare was now in the past with Lord Berold’s death. Geoffrey had been freed by Berold’s son, Hardwin. After a few months of eating the heavenly meals provided by Kinwick’s cook, Geoffrey had gained back his weight and strength. His cousin, once again, walked proudly and had love in his heart.

  Though Geoffrey had changed, he’d become an even better man than before. Raynor finally trusted his friend again. Life at Kinwick had returned to normal, and Raynor knew it was time for him to go home to Ashcroft. The recent missive he’d received from Gobert, Ashcroft’s steward, implored him to address a multitude of problems that needed his attention.

  Alys returned with her twin, and Raynor took on the two of them. Both had learned their lessons well. Each moved with a fluid grace and anticipated his moves.

  “There you are!” Merryn called out.

  Raynor lowered his weapon, and Ancel and Alys went in for the kill. He spun from their grasp and dropped his own sword as he quickly grabbed each twin around the waist and carried them kicking and swinging over to their mother.

  “Stop at once,” Merryn commanded, her voice soft but firm.

  The children respected her wish. They lowered their weapons and stilled their feet.

  “Can you be trusted?” Raynor asked them.

  Both nodded, and he set them on the ground.

  “Now give me a hug and a kiss, for I need to be on the road.”

  They protested at first, begging him to stay, but one glance from their mother silenced them. Raynor knelt and gave each a firm embrace. He received kisses from both and promised them he would return to visit as he always had. They retrieved their swords and hurried back to the training yard to engage each other in friendly combat.

  “I couldn’t find you anywhere,” Merryn said. “I was afraid you had left without saying goodbye.”

  “I told the little ones that we would spar once more before I headed out.”

  She smiled. “They have enjoyed the swords you made for them. Ancel swears he will be the best prepared page in all of England when he leaves to foster with Hardie.”

  “He will be. And I had to teach Alys enough clever moves so she could protect herself once she departs for court.”

  Merryn laughed. “I doubt the queen will allow her to carry around a wooden sword, Raynor.”

  He grinned. “Mayhap I showed Alys ways to defend herself from ill-mannered court pages without having to use her sword.”

  Merryn rolled her eyes. “I can see it now. Queen Philippa will send my child home for poking out the eyes of a future duke—or worse. Knowing you, I am sure you taught her to fight dirty.”

  Raynor shrugged. “Only if a boy grows too familiar with her. Then I gave her permission to kick him in—”

  “Enough!” she cried. “I’m sure the king will be highly amused by her antics. The queen, doubtful.”

  “Alys will excel at court. Ancel, too, will thrive when he leaves to foster at Winterbourne’s estate.”

  Merryn touched his arm. “I will be sorry to see them go. And you, also.” She paused. “No words would ever be adequate enough to show you my gratitude for what you’ve done for Kinwick these past several years. You have taken great care of us, Raynor. All of us.”

  He put a hand atop hers and squeezed it. “But Geoffrey is home now. It’s time for me to return to Ashcroft.”

  “I hope you will not be a stranger to us.”

  “Of course not,” he assured her. “But you need time with Geoffrey now, while I must see to things at home.”

  “Are they so very bad?”

  He shrugged. “I hope Gobert has exaggerated the situation, but I have prepared myself for the worst.” Raynor looked up and saw that Geoffrey was walking toward them.

  His cousin threw an arm about him. “The twins said you are off soon.”

  “I am.”

  “You should at least stay for the noon meal,” Merryn chided. “It will be served soon.”

  “No. I’m ready to be on the road. ’Twill be dark by the time I arrive.”

  “I’ll walk with you to the stables,” Geoffrey offered.

  “I’ll see that your things are brought from your chamber and waiting for you,” Merryn promised. She turned and headed toward the keep.

  The two men left for the stables. Raynor greeted everyone they passed. He’d become so much a part of life at Kinwick that he knew all by name. Still, he had nothing to show for putting his own life on hold for several years. Like any man, he longed for a wife and children of his own. He wished for love, stability, and purpose.

  That, too, would have to wait, at least until he knew what the situation was at Ashcroft.

  They reached the stables and Geoffrey ordered a groom to have Fury saddled.

  Geoffrey turned to Raynor, tears brimming in his eyes. Since Geoffrey had returned, he wore his emotions close to the surface—something the stoic Geoffrey of old never had revealed.

  “I can never repay you for the loving care you bestowed upon Merryn and the twins in my absence. Thank you for your friendship, which goes back as far as my memory does.” He gripped Raynor’s arm. “Know that you’ll always have a home with us.”

  Raynor threw his arms around Geoffrey and pounded him hard on the back.

  “You and your family mean the world to me, Cousin. Thank you for your love and friendship.” He spied the groom bringing Fury and released Geoffrey. “I’ll visit again soon.” Raynor mounted and waved before he spurred his horse on.

  Trotting through the inner bailey, he reached the stairs that led up to the keep and found Merryn waiting. She handed him a bag and he tied it to his horse.

  “Take care, Raynor. Try to come for Christmas if you can. If not sooner.”

  “I will do my best.”

  “Godspeed.”

  He nodded to Gilbert, the captain of Geoffrey’s guard, and to the twins as they jumped up and down, waving wildly at him as he rode by.

  Crossing into the outer bailey, he motioned the gatekeeper as he approached. The man signaled for the gates to be opened and Raynor rode through without breaking stride. As he galloped away from Kinwick, he didn’t look back.

  Raynor wondered if and when he would return.

  Chapter Four

  “Should we stop soon, Tolly?” Beatrice asked. She hoped the servant would agree to the suggestion since the jostling of the rickety cart had her insides feeling like runny jam. She dreaded the remainder of the trip and wished their destination was closer.

  They had left home three days ago. She rode in the back of the cart, as far from the horse as she could get. To steady herself from the bumps in the road, she braced her back against the trunk and protected her lute by keeping it in her lap. The instrument was her most precious possession. Playing it had saved her sanity many times.

  They’d camped in the woods on both of the previous n
ights, making sure to set their fire back from the road to avoid other travelers. With coin scarce, Beatrice looked forward to spending the night at the convent tomorrow night. She was already tired of sleeping on the unforgiving ground. Tolly had explained, for a small donation, travelers were able to enjoy the hospitality of the nuns.

  Her servant had lit a lantern in the cart in case it grew dark before they reached a good campsite. She deliberately faced away from the horse, focusing on whatever she could see. She hated that she feared the beasts, but that fear had remained with her ever since her father’s death.

  “Just a bit farther, my lady. There’s a stream where we can water the horse and refresh ourselves.”

  Beatrice trusted him completely. Tolly had traveled throughout the south of England with his father when he was growing up.

  She had high hopes her grandfather’s friend would not only take her in but would offer work to her servant, as well. Tolly had proved to be loyal to her grandfather over the years. He had been present when Beatrice arrived with her mother and had remained a part of her life.

  There was no guarantee she’d find a home in the north. Especially after she’d acted so boldly, penning a lie to Sir Henry in regard to her upcoming visit to Brookhaven. Lying was a sin and it weighed on her conscience. Mayhap she would be able to confess tomorrow when they reached the convent. That way, she could come to Sir Henry with a clean heart.

  Beatrice toyed with several ideas on how to approach the nobleman once they arrived. She might offer to act as a companion to his grandson’s bride. When the couple had children, looking after them would be another task in which she could be useful. Since they’d left the manor house, she’d done nothing but think of ways to discuss her situation with Sir Henry.

  Beatrice also prayed in earnest to the Holy Mother to give her the right words for when she spoke to the nobleman. If Sir Henry did not grant her refuge, she had no idea what she and Tolly would do once the money she’d sewn into the hem of her cotehardie was exhausted.

  She thrust her hand into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against her mother’s ruby ring. She knew better than to wear it out on the road. Such a fine piece of jewelry would bring unnecessary attention. Still, she liked having it within her grasp because it gave her comfort.

  “What’s that?” Tolly asked, surprise in his voice.

  Beatrice turned to look at the road and saw a dark shape in the middle of their path. With dusk falling, though, she couldn’t make out what the obstacle might be.

  Tolly slowed the cart and leaned over to pick up the lantern. He stood and held it high.

  “It’s a man. I must see to him.” The servant eased himself down from the driver’s seat and reached for the lantern to guide his way.

  She climbed down from the cart, as well. If the man was injured or ill, she could help.

  They approached the still figure. Beatrice checked his body, finding no apparent wounds. Perhaps a weak heart had caused his collapse.

  Tolly handed her the lantern and squatted next to the stranger. He rolled the man from his side to his back.

  Without warning, the man shrieked. His right hand swung up. Beatrice caught the glint of steel in the light. Before she could cry out in warning, the man shoved a blade into Tolly’s gut and wrenched it up.

  She watched in horror as Tolly’s eyes widened in surprise. He howled in pain and fell back as his hands grabbed for the buried dagger. As the stranger sat up, Beatrice ran back to the cart, the lantern swinging wildly at her side. Tolly kept an ax in the cart which he used to chop wood. She would threaten this man with it.

  But as she set the lantern in the cart and reached for the ax, she found a second man waiting in the bed. He’d already opened her trunk and was rifling through it, tossing clothes and books aside. A book hit the lantern and knocked it over, spilling oil everywhere. The clothes scattered in the bed of the wagon caught fire. The man sprang up and stomped at the flames. Beatrice latched onto the ax and swung it at his feet. He lost his balance and plunged headfirst into the growing fire. An earsplitting scream erupted as he scrambled to his feet, his clothes now in flames.

  Suddenly, the thief who’d stabbed Tolly grabbed her from behind. His arms locked around her waist as he lifted her from her feet. Beatrice held fast to the ax. Though she struggled to breathe, she kicked her captor as hard as she could as she watched the other highwayman fall from the flaming cart. He hit the ground and didn’t move. Beatrice landed several more blows against the man who held her. He finally released her, cursing loudly.

  Stumbling away, she raised her ax protectively as the highwayman advanced in her direction. When he drew close, she swung the weapon at him. He dodged the blade and made for the burning cart, reaching in to rescue her lute from the advancing flames.

  “Seems something good’s come from this.” The robber leered at her as he retreated from the vehicle. “This will fetch a good price—same as you—once I’m done with you.”

  Instead of his words causing fear, they riled Beatrice into action. Rushing at him, she swung the ax around and brought it forward as hard as she could. It landed where his head joined his neck. He dropped her lute and clutched at the ax embedded deeply in his flesh as he crumpled to the ground.

  Beatrice stared in horror at what she had done.

  Her gaze skimmed the fire and carnage surrounding her as she tried to comprehend what had occurred. Only minutes ago, they had been driving down the road, ready to make camp for the night. Now, Tolly and two strangers were dead.

  She heard a moan come from the burned robber and realized that he still lived. Despite what he had done, she rushed to his side. His charred fingers tightened around her ankle, causing her to panic.

  “Nay!” she cried, trying to shake him off as he clutched her. She stomped on his blackened arm and he released her. Running back to the cart, she stumbled against it. Immediately, flames licked at the edge of her cloak and Beatrice screamed. She had no time to unfasten the garment and toss it away. Instead, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the dirt to extinguish the flames.

  And then she spied a third stranger crouching next to her beloved lute.

  *

  Raynor’s spirits sank as he drew closer to Ashcroft. He loved his ancestral home, but sadness lingered ever since Peter’s wife died in childbirth several years ago. She had been a delicate creature and had already miscarried twice before carrying their third child to term. The midwife had done what she could, but his brother had watched his wife die. Hours later, his newborn son died in his arms.

  Peter Le Roux had never been the same man.

  Always quiet and preferring solitude over the company of others, Peter withdrew after he lost his family. Ashcroft was run under the careful supervision of Gobert, their efficient and caring steward, since Peter neglected most of his duties.

  Raynor wished his mother were still alive. She had been a strong-willed woman—much like Merryn de Montfort—and she would never have tolerated her older son’s failures. But she had died of a fever four springs ago, mere months after Peter’s wife and child had gone to their graves.

  His brother swore never to remarry, claiming he would wait to be reunited with his wife in the next life. That meant Ashcroft and the title would one day fall to Raynor if he outlived his brother.

  He thought back to the message Gobert had sent to him at Kinwick. The steward begged Raynor to return home. He revealed the estate was falling into disrepair and that Peter had no interest in fixing the issues. If change did not occur soon, Raynor would have no inheritance to claim.

  It was time to do whatever it took to bring his brother from the depths of his despair. Raynor berated himself for spending so much time with Merryn and the troubles she had encountered when he should have devoted more of his efforts toward Peter and Ashcroft. Raynor knew that somehow, some way, he would get through to his brother. They owed it to their tenants and the memory of their late parents.

  Twilight turned into dusk, so he slowe
d Fury’s pace. Though familiar with the road, he did not want the horse to stumble and break a leg when it was only a short ride to Ashcroft.

  Wait.

  Off in the distance, he heard something odd. Raynor pulled up on the reins and listened. An unearthly scream echoed in the night air. He urged his horse on, his heart racing. The screams were lost in the pounding of the hooves along the road. Raynor spotted a bright light ahead of him. As he rode closer, he realized it came from a fire. Fury flew the rest of the way, and Raynor tried to take in the scene before him.

  A woman rolled about in the dirt and then stopped. There was a body on the ground next to a burning cart. A man with an ax buried in his neck lay motionless a few yards away. Another body was several feet in front of the cart.

  By the Christ, what had happened here?

  Raynor dismounted and approached the woman, not wanting to alarm her. She struggled to her hands and knees and staggered toward the burning cart. He could see by the light of the fire that part of her cloak had burned away. He didn’t know if she had been injured, but he must stop her before she reached the vehicle, which looked on the verge of collapse.

  A man huddled near the cart tried rising to his feet. Raynor had missed this stranger in all the mayhem. The woman roared in anger and threw herself at the man, landing on his back. Her arms fastened around his neck as she locked her legs about his waist.

  “Drop my lute!” she demanded.

  With one hand, the man tried to pry her fingers apart while his other hand held fast to a lute. Raynor realized this man and some of the scattered dead were highwaymen who’d attacked the woman, looking for things to steal.

  The thief began turning in circles as he grappled with the woman. Raynor raced toward the pair, motioning for the woman to let go of the man. She shook her head and continued to hang on.