A Knight's Duty (The Knights of Honor Trilogy, Book 2)

by Dana D'Angelo

  Chapter 4

  Amelie watched as the small troop of royal knights walked across the bailey.

  It was obvious that the two men who led the troop held positions of authority. They wore no chain mail or any other armor pieces that identified them as knights, yet the way they carried themselves seemed to indicate their vocation.

  The two leaders were deep in conversation, but even as they spoke to one another, their eyes examined the battlements and towers, absorbing the castle defenses and weaknesses. And even though Amelie was in full view, they had yet to notice her standing at the bottom steps of the keep.

  “That handsome knight on the right seems rather young, does he not?” Clarisse murmured appreciatively. “Yet with his beardless face, he looks as if he had just received his knightly spurs.”

  “He does look young,” Amelie admitted. Her eyes scanned from the top of his head down to his boots. His hair, the color of golden wheat sheaves, was parted in the middle, and came to just above his wide shoulders. Fine cheekbones, a straight nose and masculine lips that seemed able to slip easily into a smile were set in an oblong face. His strong jawline had a hint of facial hair on it, although from the color, it was easy to think that he was beardless. Still, his powerful lithe frame looked nothing like that of a youth. It was more like the physique of a well-seasoned warrior. He walked with a languid arrogance, as if he was a gray wolf and sure of his territory. The purple cloak over his broad shoulders draped over his large, manly body, while the red tunic underneath looked as if it was made from finely woven wool.

  The second man appeared a few years older, and was a head shorter than the enormous golden-haired knight. Dark hair covered the other man’s head, and half of his face. At this moment, his visage was turned toward the larger man, nodding ever so often. It was apparent who he took his instruction from.

  Suddenly Amelie began to wonder at the wisdom of dismissing John. These were hardened knights that she faced, and she only had two women at her side. Clasping her hands in front of her, she tried to stop the slight tremor that shot through her.

  “’Tis unlikely that King Edward would send an untried youth,” she said, trying to assure Clarisse and herself, although her thoughts continued to swirl in a sea of doubt and confusion.

  “I think that the knights are here to arrest Lord Stanbury,” her cousin said, voicing the terrible dread that nagged at Amelie’s mind.

  She cast an uneasy look at the royal guards. There was no other explanation. The blond knight was now near enough for Amelie to see his rugged features. And looking at the strapping man more closely, she discovered that he didn’t appear as young as she had thought, although he was definitely older than her nineteen years. His blue eyes were sharp and assessing, missing little as he faced forward. He frowned a little when he finally noticed the small reception at the foot of the steps.

  In response to his reaction, Amelie lifted her chin into the air, allowing a cool mask to settle on her countenance. She was obviously someone who he wasn’t expecting, but she was not going to let a mere envoy intimidate her in her own home.

  As his long, forceful strides closed the short distance between them, she could feel the increasing power of his stare. The heat she sensed radiating from him became searing, powerful and burning. Even though she wore a light blue damask overtunic that was made for the warm summer conditions, she felt as if she had donned her thickest winter gown.

  Suddenly she became aware of the thudding of her heart, the blood rushing through her veins — all sounds that seemed extraordinarily loud to her ears. Perhaps the royal knights were here to tell her news about her missing father. But even though she told herself this, she knew that she was only deluding herself. If it was truly a message from the king, he didn’t need seven guards to deliver it.

  The feeling she had earlier returned with a vengeance. Once again she wished she was young, ignorant, and all the important decisions were left to her parents. Lord Stanbury was the one who usually stood on these steps, waiting to receive important visitors. But since her father wasn’t here, she wished someone would meet with the envoy, someone who knew how to deal with the king’s officials. Someone that wasn’t her.

  Amelie felt an urge to turn on her heels, clamber up the stairs as fast as possible, and slam the solid oak doors closed. Most of all she wanted all this trouble to disappear.

  But this was an impossible wish. She unclasped her hands. But when they dropped to her sides, she involuntarily curled them into tight fists as she willed her heart to slow down its erratic tempo. She frowned as she became aware of an unfamiliar, nervous fluttering in her stomach. Filling her lungs with air, she then exhaled slowly, trying to push aside the ugly feeling. She was the daughter of Gordon de Calmette, she reminded herself. And cowardice was never an option.

  But she needed time to think about the best course of action, and to find the truth before it was too late. As the troop closed in, she fought to rein in her raging thoughts. And using all her willpower, she resisted the urge to press her fingers to her temples and ease the tension gathered there. Instead, she forced herself to stare straight at the brawny envoy, making her face bland and pleasant.

  But all the while, her Uncle Roldan’s message rang in her head – your father is a traitor! That charge was false. She knew her father. He would never betray the monarch like this. And just as she believed in her father’s innocence, she was certain that he needed her help. However at this point, she didn’t even know where he was let alone how she planned to help him.

  “Sir Derrik d’Evant,” the guard said, his voice deep and smooth.

  Amelie shifted on her feet. She could feel the knight’s hot gaze roaming over her frame, and whatever part of her body that his sizzling gaze settled, she felt an unbearable heat. When she thought she couldn’t handle any more of his scrutiny, he abruptly placed his left leg out in front of him. With one muscular arm circling his stomach, and the other arm sweeping round to his back, he bent at the waist.

  “Here at the behest of King Edward,” he continued. Slowly, he straightened his back, and glanced briefly over to Clarisse and Margery before returning his unflinching regard to Amelie. “I seek audience with Gordon de Calmette, Lord of Stanbury.”

  The corner of his chiseled lips curved into a pleasant smile, and Amelie saw that there was a minor scar at the right side of his mouth. She tore her eyes away from his lips, but looking into his blue depths proved more dangerous. His bold gaze pinned her to her spot for a long, excruciating moment. Amelie felt the blood rising to her face. She quickly dropped her eyes and focused her attention on his nose.

  “Nay,” she said. “Lord Stanbury is not available.”

  “Then perhaps I may speak with his lady wife.”

  “You will not be able to speak with Lady Edeline either,” Amelie said, expanding her chest and throwing her shoulders back. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it to me.”

  “I presume that you are Lady Amelie, the daughter of Lord Stanbury?” he said, bringing a hand up and thoughtfully stroking the hard line of his jaw.

  “Aye,” she said, looking up, and once again she felt the wild fluttering in her stomach. She had yet to make an appearance at the royal courts, yet this strange knight knew of her. She glanced at the somber men behind Derrik. They didn’t exactly look like common guards. In fact all of the men standing before her seemed battle worn, as if that they had gone to hell, and now returned with physical and mental scars. And she knew that no matter how much she pleaded for clemency, hardened men like these wouldn’t be deterred from their mission.

  “How do you know who I am, sire?” she asked, her voice turning more cold and unwelcoming than she intended. “What business do you have here?”

  His eyebrows shot up at her bluntness. A tiny gasp escaped from Margery. And Amelie cursed her fair skin as a deep flush crept up her neck. She was all too aware that it was unthinkable to address a king’s representative in this manner.

  “King Ed
ward rarely sends envoys to our parts,” she dropped her gaze, and focused on a point near the middle of his broad chest. She allowed a polite expression to settle on her face once more. “We are so far from the Royal Palace…” She tilted her head slightly and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Why do you honor us with your unexpected visit, Sir Derrik?”

  Derrik blinked as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her abrupt change in manner. Surveying the courtyard, he saw a handful of servants scurrying past them, their curious faces twisted over in their direction. Not far off the armorer, focused on his task, hammered a dented helm on a wooden board.

  “You would want to hear the communication out here?” Derrik asked in astonishment.

  “I trust the people here,” Amelie said coolly. She sent him a smile, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “As I have said earlier, you may tell me the message you wish to impart, and be on your way.”

  “’Tis not as easy as that,” he shrugged, “I am not here to impart a simple message.”

  Her mouth went dry. “Then why are you here?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  “We’re to bring Lord Stanbury in for questioning,” he paused, staring unblinking into her eyes. “He is wanted for high treason.”

  Even though she had fair warning from her uncle, Derrik’s news was like a driving blow to her solar plexus.

  “You are making a serious allegation here,” she said slowly. “High treason is met with extraordinary punishment…”

  “You’re correct. The king usually kills traitors,” he said with brutal honesty. “The security threat to the kingdom is too important to ignore. Any attempts to undermine the lawfully established line of succession, or any aid given to the king’s enemies are punishable by death.”

  Amelie shook her head slowly. A swirl of hot white heat grew in her chest, and began to fill her small body.

  “Lord Stanbury is a most loyal servant to King Edward. I cannot believe that you would accuse my father of such treachery when he is not even here to defend himself.”

  “Then ‘tis settled. Lord Stanbury can return with me, and defend his name before the king.” Derrik glanced around. “Where is he?”

  “I do not know,” she said. And even if I did know I would never tell you. Lifting her chin up a notch, she looked defiantly at him. “I am certain that he will return to Stanbury Castle soon.”

  “Fine,” Derrik nodded, no longer smiling. “My men and I will wait here until he returns.”

  Chapter 5

  “We have waited an entire day, and Lord Stanbury still has not arrived,” Egbert said, allowing a trace of impatience to show in his tone. He lifted a goblet of wine to his lips, took a long swallow, and then settled the cup down with a thud.

  “Aye, we do so enjoy your hospitality, my lady,” Derrik said nodding politely to Lady Edeline, “however we weren’t expecting to stay overnight.”

  Egbert looked around the hall, appearing restless and ill at ease, although he didn’t say anything further.

  Good, Amelie thought with satisfaction. She brought a napkin to her mouth to cover the slight curvature in her lips. Let them be as impatient and uncomfortable as they made her. But then her amusement faded just as quickly as it had appeared. Her hands fell to her lap, and she cursed the presence of the knights at her table. Egbert didn’t need to remind her how many hours had passed. She was well aware that every moment that she stayed in the castle, valuable time was wasted, time which she should use to search for her missing father.

  The chapel bell rang in the distance, denoting another hour slipping by. Digging her nails in her palm, she tried to quell the feeling of helplessness that threatened to choke her. If only John told her about Wykeham yesterday, then she would have had the opportunity to interview the inn keeper without the interference of the king’s men.

  “You were expecting my husband to be here?” Lady Edeline set down her napkin and furrowed her brows in confusion. She looked at the two knights, “Did Amelie not tell you?”

  “Nay,” Derrik said, watching Amelie’s face. “We await his return, although we were not given a time as to when he would be back,”

  Her mother turned her confused eyes over at Amelie and frowned a little before turning her attention back to Derrik. “Lord Stanbury goes away on one or two-day excursions, and usually returns to the castle. However he has not been home for over three weeks,” she said, her voice beginning to sound wane. “We do not know where he is.”

  “Three weeks?” Derrik repeated. “I had the impression that he would only be gone for a few hours.” He leaned forward and craned his neck at Amelie. “In fact someone told me that he would be back soon,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Lady Amelie? Perhaps I was given the wrong information.”

  “That information is not wrong.” Amelie felt the tell-tale blush creeping up her fair skin.

  “Perhaps this person knows much more than we do,” Lady Edeline interjected softly. She shook her head and then stopped, holding her head as if the motion was too quick and it caused her to become dizzy.

  A look of concern crossed over the faces of both knights, and they moved to get up.

  “Are you all right, Mother?” Amelie asked, settling a hand on her mother’s arm. With the other hand, she waved for the knights to sit.

  “I am fine,” she said, giving a small shake to her head.

  “My lady, perhaps I should take you back to your bedchamber,” Clarisse said, her eyes wide with worry.

  “Nay, Clarisse, I will stay here.” She turned to the two knights and offered them a weak smile. “I must apologize, sires. I have been having terrible headaches these days.”

  “Would you like your potion, my lady?” Clarisse asked.

  “Aye, that would be nice,” Lady Edeline murmured.

  Clarisse looked over at the nursemaid. “Do you have the potion with you, Margery?”

  “Aye, my lady,” Margery said, nodding. She turned to a young servant that stood at the side, anxiously watching the lady of the castle. “Fill my lady’s goblet halfway with wine, and bring it to me,” she ordered. And when the servant complied, the nursemaid took a small vial from her apron pocket and tipped the bottle into the silver cup. A thin stream of amber liquid poured out to mix with the wine. Swirling the cup, she handed it to the boy to give to Lady Edeline, who sat three seats away from her. “The drink should make you feel better, my lady,” she said.

  Lady Edeline accepted the goblet with unsteady hands. “I would offer you this drink, sires,” she said, smiling ruefully at the knights. She grimaced as she took a sip of the wine mixture. “Although you would declare me a terrible chatelaine if you actually had a taste of this concoction.” Her hand fluttered to her pale face, and in an uncertain voice, she asked, “The King only wants to question my husband…is that correct, Sir Derrik?”

  “He has come here to take Father away — to have him stand trial before the king,” Amelie interjected, a trace of accusation in her voice.

  “Then, what my brother-in-law, the Duke of Hangrov told us was true…” her mother said, a small frown forming on her lips.

  “The king’s advisor told you about the charge, my lady?” Derrik asked, slowly rubbing a thumb along his strong jaw.

  “Aye, he sent us a missive several days prior to your arrival, telling us that — that Lord Stanbury is accused of high treason.”

  Derrik turned a level gaze at Amelie. “Then if I’m not mistaken, you knew of the accusation beforehand.”

  “And what if I did?” She stared back at him, arching one eyebrow in challenge. “I do not believe one word of it. I already told you that ‘twas a lie.”

  “My husband would never betray the king,” her mother agreed.

  “Well, I’m assured that the lord will arrive shortly,” Derrik said, sending the older woman an easy smile. “When he does, we can journey back to the Royal Palace, and he can make his plea before His Majesty.”

  Amelie tore her gaze from
Derrik. She folded her hands on her lap and looked down at the people eating their meals at the lower tables. Still, she felt the heat of his gaze on the side of her face. It was likely that he believed she hid something, and now with that idea planted in his head, he would scrutinize her much closer than before.

  Annoyance streamed through her veins. She wished that the king’s envoy and his men would just leave. It enraged her to no end that Derrik had made himself so comfortable at Stanbury Castle. He seemed to command the attention and respect of everyone in the room, from the garrison commander to the lowly page, yet he had only arrived here a few hours before. And as far as she could tell, he hadn’t done anything to warrant this level of admiration. And what’s more, his masculine beauty seemed to draw the attention of every female in the room, including hers. She shook her head, disgusted with herself.

  Unfortunately there was little she could do except to endure his presence. And although she wished to make his life miserable, she had to behave as the surrogate lady of the castle. The people at Stanbury saw her as an authority figure, and if she snubbed the king’s representative, they would wonder at her hostility. Or worse, they might follow suit and treat the men badly. The last thing she needed was to have the king hear of ill-treatment toward his men. Of all things, she couldn’t risk making the situation worse for her father. And though it pained her thoroughly, she had to paste on a smile of solicitude when she spoke with Derrik, pretending that all was well, and that she was thrilled to serve him and his men.

  At the moment Egbert had her mother’s rapt attention as he told her of some tale from the king’s court. Amelie barely heard them. Her mind was too busy scheming a way out of this suffocating meal.

  She pushed her trencher forward. There was only one place for her to go.

  As if he could sense her thoughts, and knew what she intended, Derrik’s sharp eyes looked past her mother and settled on to Amelie.

  He raised a quizzical brow.