A Nordic Knight of the Golden Fleece: Jakob & Avery: Book 2 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  Two days ago, Esteban Gonzalez sent Thomas Windsor, Duke of Merthyr Tydfil, a note requesting a meeting to discuss their shared interest in the Mendoza trade ships. It was obvious that the majordomo kept himself informed of any outside interest in the ships.

  It was also obvious that he still hoped to redeem them himself.

  Percy met his gaze. “He knows exactly how much is left to repay, with and without the discount.”

  Jakob froze, his mug suspended half-a-foot shy of his mouth. “Would the shipbuilder give Esteban the discount?”

  The Englishman shook his head. “No. And that is why he claims to need another investor. As a mask to pay the lower amount and save the money.”

  Jakob lowered the stein. “How much did he ask you for?”

  “One hundred and fifty thousand maravedis, per ship.”

  “For what percentage?”

  Percy gave him a knowing look. “Thirty-three percent.”

  Jakob huffed a laugh. “And why not? None of the original investment has come from his pocket. Any amount is profit for him.”

  “That is true.” Percy took a long swallow of his ale.

  “Has he approached anyone else?”

  The English knight shook his head. “He said I was the first man he approached, because of my expressed interest.”

  Jakob grunted. “Did he give you a specific deadline to reply?”

  “One week.”

  Jakob gulped his ale, set his mug down, and stood. “Avery needs to know.”

  *****

  Avery had not left her house for four days. Her revealing conversation with Gustavo shone a much brighter light on her situation and, while she was not in love with the man, the realization that his pursuit of her was founded in economics rather than love left her feeling oddly defeated.

  She spent many hours over the last days trying to decide what to say to him. She would not agree to marry him—having no husband was preferable to having a second one who did not truly love her.

  She also tried drawing up the terms of a contract, in the event Gustavo was able to raise the monies needed to redeem one of the ships. Of course, her lawyer and accountant would create the actual legal document, but the investment terms were still her decision.

  “Lady Averia?” Zurina stood in the doorway. “Sir Hansen is here and he would like to speak with you.”

  Avery ran a hand over her hair. “Am I presentable?”

  Her ladies’ maid walked toward her. “Let me just…”

  A moment later, adjusted and neatened, Avery sent Zurina off to collect Jakob and bring him to the small drawing room. When he arrived, her heart fluttered just a bit when she looked into his eyes.

  She smiled. “It is very nice to see you.”

  Jakob closed the heavy wooden door and strode toward her. “Where is Esteban?”

  “It is very nice to see you as well, Avery,” she said in a bright tone. “You look lovely today.”

  Jakob halted in front of her and coughed a rueful chuckle. “You are more than lovely, Avery. I apologize.”

  Avery gave the Norseman a chastising look. “Accepted. Now why are you concerned with Esteban?”

  Jakob took her hand and led her to the only couch in the room. Once they were settled, he whispered in her ear. “Esteban solicited an investment from the Welsh duke, Thomas Windsor.”

  Surprised, Avery turned her head to look into his eyes. “From Percy?”

  Jakob nodded. “Percy met with him earlier this afternoon.”

  “How did he—”

  “The shipbuilder.”

  “Of course.” Anger surged through her veins. “Damn the man.”

  “Which—”

  “Both of them!” Avery jumped up, too furious to hold still. “So he is still trying to escape with his pirate’s plunder. Damn.”

  Jakob remained in his seat. “I assume you have not yet heard from Catherine.”

  “No.” Avery paced. “And I am running out of possibilities.”

  “What about Salazar?”

  Avery stopped as if she hit a wall. “He had no idea how much remained on the contract. Once he was informed, it turns out that he does not have the required funds.” She cut her gaze to Jakob’s. “He did, however, make me a formal proposal of marriage.”

  Jakob’s expression hardened. “What did you say?”

  “I did not give him an answer.”

  “Why not?”

  Avery turned her body to fully face Jakob. “Why do you care?”

  Jakob rose to his feet. His blue eyes were dark with anger.

  Avery took a step back.

  Jakob closed the space between them, even though she kept moving backwards until she was against the wall. Her heart felt as if it was trying to climb out her mouth, and she was having a hard time drawing enough breath. Though she wanted to speak, she had no words.

  Jakob rested his hands on the wall, one on either side of her head. He stared down into her eyes, searching for something. And then, he lowered his face, parted his lips, and claimed her mouth with his.

  *****

  Why do I care? Avery’s question zinged through his body like a bolt of lightning.

  She knew that he loved her and her taunt made him feel like a hunted boar, shot with an arrow and increasing its fury to a frantic level.

  Did she believe she was hunting him?

  If she did, Jakob had every intention of making it clear which one of them was the prey. He had been patient with her, watching her from a distance and waiting for the best moment to strike, but his patience was gone, pierced through by the stake of another man’s claim.

  At first, Avery accepted his kiss, neither pulling away, nor kissing him back. Then her arms slipped around his neck. Her body arched forward. Her tongue played with his.

  Jakob pulled away, swooped Avery up in his arms, and carried her to the couch. He was dangerously close to tossing up her skirts and finally bringing an end to all this chastity business.

  Avery leaned back, supported by the raised end of the couch. She licked her lips, then caught them in her teeth. Her wide dark eyes met his. Jakob hovered over her, his breath coming in aroused huffs.

  He lowered himself over her, and kissed her again.

  Her hand moved down his body and gripped him through his hose, in the same way she had in London.

  Jakob moaned into her mouth.

  His finish was swift, and in his urgency he took no time for her pleasure. Eyes closed, his forehead rested against hers as the world came back into focus, knowing he had lost control of the situation. Perhaps he was the prey after all.

  Another surge of anger rippled through him. Without moving his head, he listened in horror to his own words, helpless to hold them back as jealousy shoved them past his tongue.

  “Did you do this for him as well?”

  With a feral growl, Avery slapped him hard, knocking his head away from hers. “How dare you!”

  Jakob struggled to sit up, his cheek stinging and his jaw feeling a little out of place. His eyes met hers. “I apologize, Avery. That was not called for.”

  Avery scrambled off the couch and stood in front of him, fists clenched and eyes flashing. “How could you say such a thing to me?”

  Jakob put up his hands in surrender. “I am sorry. I was wrong.”

  Avery crumpled to the carpet in a heap of skirts. “How—why would you—” A ragged sob cut her voice.

  Jakob slid off the couch and knelt in front of her, ignoring the stinging twinge in his right thigh. “I am so sorry, Avery. You are the last person I would ever wish to hurt.”

  She sniffed wetly and fished a square of linen from her pocket. She did not look at him.

  Jakob knew it was time to stop holding back. “I love you, Avery. And the thought of you with another man is intolerable to me.”

  Her eyes remained downcast, and her voice was soft. “Do you say that only because you are jealous of Gustavo?”

  “No.” Jakob lifted her chin so
she would look at him. “Will you forgive me?”

  Avery looked into his eyes for a long time without speaking, as if she was waiting for something.

  “Please, Avery. Forgive me.”

  She nodded.

  Jakob pulled her into his embrace and held her against his chest. “Do not marry him,” he whispered.

  “I won’t,” she answered in kind.

  Jakob believed he knew what Avery wanted him to say next, but this was not the time for him to propose marriage once again. Not with his hose awkwardly soiled, and her crumpled on the floor in tears.

  When her finances were settled, and he asked her once again to marry him, he wanted to do so in a manner which showed her the respect she deserved.

  The original reason for his visit prompted him to ask, “Have you had any word from Catherine?”

  “No.” Avery leaned away from him, her expression somber. “It is too soon, as yet.”

  Jakob tucked a straying strand of black hair behind Avery’s ear. “Esteban gave the duke a week to decide about the investment. Perhaps Percy might delay him further.”

  “That would be helpful.” Avery finally looked into his eyes. “Thank you for your help, Jakob. You and Percy truly are my best friends in Spain.”

  “I shall remember that and curb my tongue in the future.” Jakob kissed her forehead. “I am so sorry to have misbehaved. I promise, I will make it up to you.”

  *****

  As Jakob walked back to his home in the dark, his stomach growled repeatedly. Avery had offered him supper, but he knew she was trying to save money; so instead of having her cook draw additional provisions from a carefully distributed supply, he lied and said Percy had invited one of the knights of the Order to dine with them.

  Foregoing convention, Jakob walked into the first floor kitchen of the leased palazzo and asked for his supper to be sent up to his chamber.

  Percy was actually going out this evening with one of the many Spanish noblewomen who found his attempts at their language equally hilarious and adorable. Jakob’s jovial and gregarious English counterpart seemed to make friends wherever he went, and Jakob did not begrudge him the experience.

  “Would you call me jovial?” Jakob asked Maria when she brought his tray.

  The housekeeper laughed. “Would you call me a child?” She handed Jakob a sealed letter. “This came for you today.”

  “Thank you.” Jakob’s hand trembled when he looked at the seal. It was his father’s.

  “Is everything well with Lady Averia?”

  Jakob dragged his gaze back to Maria’s. “Gustavo Salazar asked her to marry him. But she will decline.”

  Maria flashed a knowing smile. “Of course she will.”

  At that moment, Jakob decided that more ears and eyes attuned to Esteban’s actions could only be helpful. “And Esteban is trying to raise the remaining funds to redeem Lady Averia’s ships.”

  “Oh, dear.” Maria clasped her hands in front of her. “Will he succeed?”

  “Not if word is spread that he bled Mendoza dry.” Jakob held up one finger, realizing the other side of that blade. “And—that the lady is using her own resources to repair the damages.”

  Maria gave a slow, sage nod. “I shall make certain many ears hear both of those things.”

  “Thank you, Maria.”

  The older woman smiled again. “I do this for Averia.” She winked. “And for you.”

  When the door to his chamber was once again closed, Jakob dropped into a chair, his heart hammering. He stared at the letter in his hand, too terrified to know what it contained to break the seal just yet.

  Since the day he left his father’s home in Arendal, Norway nearly fifteen years ago, to take his place as the king of Denmark and Norway’s knight, he had never received any missives from his family.

  True, it was his younger brother who was supposed to go, and Jakob was to become a priest. Though the brothers desperately wanted to exchange places, his father refused and the familial argument lasted over a month—until the frustrated Jakob packed up his belongings and left without their father’s permission. He boarded a trade ship before dawn, arriving at København Castle in Denmark with a forged letter of commitment.

  Once settled in the king’s service, Jakob wrote three or four letters a year to his family, keeping them apprised of where he was and what he was doing. He even told them about the fire where he was injured trying to save someone he believed to still be inside the building.

  Not once had he received a reply.

  Until today.

  Jakob heaved a deep breath to calm his pulse and slid his thumb under the seal on the parchment. The wax released its hold with a whispered crack. Jakob unfolded the document.

  The handwriting was his mother’s.

  Dearest Jakob ~

  Please forgive me for never answering any of your letters. Your father forbade it. But after he burnt the first one, unopened, I hid the rest from him. And I read them all.

  I still keep them hidden away, and when my missing you grows too painful, I take them out and read them again. I am so very proud of you, my brave son. You have done very well in your chosen path, and you have brought honor to our family, even if your father refuses to admit this.

  Now I am finally writing to you because your father’s health is failing. I am begging you to come home, so that he has the chance to reconcile with you before he dies. I hope to see you again, as well, before my time comes, as it surely must. Will you come? And come soon?

  Your loving mother, Bergdis

  The letter was dated over four months earlier. It would have followed his recent path, first to København, then to London, and now to Barcelona, traveling with whichever ship or courier could be persuaded to carry it.

  If he left this week, two months’ time would pass before Jakob could reach Arendal. And if his father’s health was truly precarious five months ago, Jakob might not make it there before his father passed. In addition, he risked the wrath of King Christian if he left the Order before it adjourned.

  Jakob refolded the letter, set it on the small table beside his chair, and stared at it, wondering what in hell he was going to do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  February 22, 1519

  Jakob did nothing about the letter for three days. He did not tell Bethington about it, nor Avery. He pushed it from his mind anytime it popped up. For three days, he pretended it had never been written. Or received.

  Jakob and Percival were joining a few of the other knights for supper at the Santos y Pecadores—Saints and Sinners—tavern across from Barcelona Cathedral.

  “How long is the Order normally convened?” he asked Diego de Mendoza before Percy arrived.

  Diego shrugged. “Eight or nine weeks. Maybe ten.”

  Jakob added in his head. “We have been assembled for fifty-one days. Seven weeks. Are we nearly finished?”

  The Spanish knight peered at him over the rim of his raised ale mug. “Are you so eager to forgo our hospitality?”

  “Not at all.” Jakob sipped his own beverage. “It’s only that I received a request from my family to return home.”

  Diego lowered his mug to the table. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

  “What is serious?” Percy dropped into the chair next to Jakob.

  Diego’s eyes slid to Percy and back, but he said nothing. Tact was an important quality for a knight, and the man obviously understood that this was Jakob’s tale to tell, not his.

  And, the time to tell it had come.

  “I received a letter from my mother concerning my father’s health.”

  Percy twisted in his seat to face Jakob, his expression evincing his surprise. “When?”

  “Three days ago.” Jakob felt his cheeks warming.

  The Englishman looked hurt. “Why did you not say anything?”

  Jakob shrugged; how could he explain that he did not want to think about it? That the myriad of emotions which his mother’s letter stirred up in his br
east were physically painful? He rubbed his right thigh out of habit.

  Diego had watched the exchange in silence, but now the Spaniard spoke. “Is your father dying?”

  Jakob met the man’s gaze. “Yes.”

  “Why would you not go?” Diego pressed.

  “Because neither his father nor his mother has spoken to him since he was seventeen, and left Norway to go into the king’s service,” Percy blurted. Clearly Bethington had no qualms about revealing another man’s tales.

  “Interesting.” Diego returned his attention to his ale.

  Percy looked at Jakob. “When will you leave?”

  Jakob frowned. “I have not decided.”

  “Why do you hesitate?”

  “I—”

  Why am I?

  Fear of traveling all that way, only to have his father refuse to acknowledge him, for one. Anger at his father for not understanding the bent of his sons, for another. And furious that his father’s financial failures put him and his brother in this position to begin with.

  I wonder if he acknowledges Saxby? That thought had never occurred to him before now.

  A sudden surge of desire to see his brothers nearly made Jakob cry. He rubbed his eyes to keep the tears from forming. “I have my king’s commission to complete.”

  Both men nodded at that. A knight’s duties were not to be ignored.

  “We should finish our business soon,” Diego said slowly. “All that remains is the lingering question of who shall come to Spain’s aid with regard to the Ottomans.”

  Jakob lifted his mug and sipped his ale, using the moment to collect his composure. “Denmark and Norway are too far distant for King Christian to be able to raise an army and send it in a timely manner.”

  “And I am certain he would not wish for you to suggest that he do so.” Diego’s regard moved to Percy. “Our English friend has remained quite silent on the matter. What about Henry?”

  Bethington blushed, his normally rosy cheeks going a blotchy burgundy. “I am under instructions not to commit English soldiers, unless the threat is to English soil.”