England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She could hear anger in her father’s tone. “I know,” she replied softly.

  “This was a bold move, even for him.”

  “What will we do?”

  Anton shrugged as he accepted a cup of warmed wine from Cassandra. “I will remain here to oversee the rebuild,” he told her. “But I will send you and your sister and your mother with Coverdale. He has offered to house you and protect you until we can adequately repair Exelby, which may take some time.”

  Chloë wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to leave her home but she understood her father’s concerns. Looking at all of the wounded men, traversing across the muddy encampment, fed her sense of guilt. Everything had happened because of her, injury and death alike. She glanced up at the gray skies, feeling as sad and remorseful as the gloom above.

  “Perhaps I should simply marry him and be done with it,” she muttered. “I cannot stomach the men who have been put in harm’s way because of me.”

  “It was not because of you,” Anton could hear the self-pity in her voice. “What Ingilby wants is greater than you. He wants you, me, Exelby… everything. He is a greedy man that does not like to be denied his wishes.”

  Chloë gazed off across the compound again, her gaze falling on St. Héver once more. The rain was starting to let up and pieces of blue sky were starting to appear, sending beams of sunlight onto the earth below. One beam fell directly on St. Héver as he stood there with several of his men in continuing conversation. The sun lit him up, like God shining his holy light upon the man. Her thoughts lingered on him.

  “What about Coverdale?” she wanted to know. “Does he realize that if I go to Aysgarth Castle, then his properties shall become Ingilby’s target?”

  Anton drank deeply of the warmed wine. “Ingilby will not find out where you have gone.”

  She could see Keir as the man broke out in a smile at something that had been said. In fact, all three of the big knights were laughing. But her eyes were only on Keir.

  “Aye, he will,” she sighed after a moment, shaking her head with regret. “One of Coverdale’s men sent a message back to Ingilby and told the man that if he ever attempted to contact me again, then this knight would personally challenge him.”

  Anton looked up from his wine, surprised. “Who said this?”

  Chloë’s eyes were riveted to Keir. In fact, she realized even to think on his name gave her a warm feeling deep in her belly. She’d never known that kind of sensation before and wasn’t hard pressed to admit she liked it.

  “Keir St. Héver,” she replied.

  Her father stood up, moving to where she was standing against the tent opening. “St. Héver?” he repeated. “I was only just speaking with him. He did not mention such a thing to me.”

  “Perhaps he has forgotten already.”

  Anton’s gaze moved across the muddy compound as well, spying Coverdale’s knights still in a cluster where he had left them. His gaze settled on the enormous knight with the kinky blond hair and a jaw so square it was as if it were hewn from solid marble.

  “Do you not recognize his name, Chloë?” he looked at his daughter.

  Chloë shook her head. “Should I?”

  Anton’s gaze moved back to the busy, muddy encampment, lingering on the knights. “Keir St. Héver is the garrison commander for Pendragon Castle, the gateway from Cumbria to Yorkshire,” he told her. “Pendragon guards the Mallerstang dale, a valuable and much coveted pass. Coverdale is wildly wealthy from the tribute he collects from those who use the pass and it is a wealth much envied, especially by the Devils from Hell.”

  Chloë’s brow furrowed. “Devils from Hell?”

  Anton nodded. “That is what those from Hellbeck Castle are called,” he said softly. “Surely you know of them.”

  Chloë was growing interested in her father’s story. “I believe I do,” she said. “I have heard of them. If I recall correctly, Lord Stain of Hellbeck Castle is akin to the Northumberland Grays.”

  Anton wriggled his eyebrows. “He is a disgraced kin. He confiscated Hellbeck Castle years ago through a siege against old Baron Asby and killed the old man, stealing his castle. Three years ago, he tried to confiscate Pendragon in the same fashion but was unsuccessful. St. Héver’s wife and daughter were killed in the siege.”

  Chloë’s expression shifted, morphing in to one of sorrow as her eyes widened in realization. “I remember now,” she breathed. “I heard about the siege of Pendragon and the death of the commander’s wife. That was St. Héver?”

  Anton nodded slowly. “It was.”

  Chloë’s gaze returned to the distant cluster of knights, her hand to her mouth in a shocked gesture. “God be merciful,” she murmured. “The poor man.”

  Anton remembered the dark stories he had heard of that time from Coverdale. “He was so distraught that he could not even attend their burial,” his voice grew quiet. “He was locked in the vault to keep him from killing himself. Then, when he recovered the shards of his sanity, he was useless for months. It was a full year before he could return to Pendragon. Coverdale told him he did not have to resume his post but St. Héver insisted.”

  Chloë was feeling a good deal of grief for the enormous knight. “I wonder why? I would have never returned to the place, not ever.”

  Anton’s gaze lingered on St. Héver in the distance for a moment longer before turning away. “He would not leave because his young son was missing after the siege and presumably abducted by Stain’s men, although they have denied it,” Anton said as he reached the stool and sat wearily. “Perhaps he hopes that the lad will find his way home someday.”

  Chloë pondered that information for a moment before returning her attention to the knights in the distance. St. Héver’s was a sad and tragic tale. By the time she turned around, however, the warriors had disbanded and the rain had stopped, the clouds parting to reveal a bright and colorful sunset.

  Chloë stood in the open tent flap, watching the activity of the encampment before her gaze moved to the wet, smoldering structure of Exelby. Her family had survived the siege and they had been fortunate. It would have been bad enough to lose her sister or mother, but to have lost her husband or children… nay. She could not imagine what pain St. Héver must have experienced.

  Chloë turned away from the tent flap, returning to her family as a servant brought bread and more wine. Even as she sat at her father’s feet, listening to his version on how brave he was in the recapture of his castle, her mind kept wandering to the handsome knight with the ice blue eyes. She was coming to feel truly sorry for having bashed his fingers and gouged at his eyes when he had tried to rescue her from the chamber in the keep, but in fairness, she truly hadn’t known the man or his intentions. The name hadn’t meant anything to her, not until her father mentioned the story behind it. Now, she wished she hadn’t been so brutal to the man.

  A man who had been struck by the Devils from Hell.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Who told you such things?” Baron Ingilby was screaming. “Who has dared to threaten me?”

  The dirty, bloody and exhausted soldier cowered in the great hall of Ripley Castle, a tall and proud bastion nestled in the Ripon dale of Yorkshire. The baron’s army was returning from the siege of Exelby Castle, empty-handed and defeated, exhausted like the walking dead, and their liege was not a happy man. He was not a warrior and did not attend battles personally. He had a fairly strong army to do that. But their defeat at Exelby had him raging, and the message returned to him by a cringing soldier had sent him over the edge of fury.

  “Keir St. Héver, my lord,” the soldier told him, spittle dripping from his lips as he trembled in fear. “He said that you will not have any part of Lady Chloë or you shall answer to him personally.”

  The veins on Ingilby’s temples throbbed. He was an older man with blond hair, graying at the temples, and not unhandsome. He was a man of leisure, pursuing women, fine wines, and high stakes gambling games. In fact, he had met Chloë de Geld quite by
chance, on the road traveling south from one of his gambling games while Chloë and her family were traveling north, and was immediately taken with the luscious redhead. He had spent two years trying to negotiate for her hand always to end in refusal. His patience ran thin a week ago and he sent his army to take his bride by force, a plan that was not successful.

  To be honest, he didn’t think it would be. Exelby was well fortified but he had hoped it would convey the seriousness of his intentions to Anton de Geld. To hear that his army had not been successful did not particularly surprise him but to hear that a threat had been sent his way was.

  “Who is Keir St. Héver?” he demanded. “I have not heard of this lord. Is he an ally of de Geld?”

  The soldier wiped at his nose with a dirty hand. “A commander for Lord Coverdale, my lord,” the man said. “Lord de Geld called upon his ally to aid during the siege.”

  Ingilby cocked an eyebrow. “Coverdale was there?”

  The soldier nodded. “He was, my lord.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  “He was not shy in announcing his presence,” the soldier replied. “He spent two days expelling your army from Exelby. St. Héver retook the keep and issued you a warning.”

  Ingilby was calming after his initial outburst, curiosity over a threat from the mysterious knight catching his attention. The addition of Coverdale also had his attention, for Coverdale was a powerful warlord with three major castles from Cumbria to North Yorkshire. Ingilby had never had dealings with the man before but he knew of his reputation. Everyone in North England did. He was heavily allied with the Earl of Carlisle and the Earl of Cumbria. Something about Coverdale’s save of Exelby Castle simply didn’t sit right.

  “Tell me exactly what St. Héver said to you,” Ingilby commanded his soldier. “Word for word, I would hear it again.”

  The soldier, weary, took a deep breath as he thought on the big knight’s words. “He told me his name, my lord,” he said. “He told me that he was a former captain to King Edward and now Guardian of the Coverdale Barony. He said he was the man that all men fear. He told me to tell you that any further attempts against the Lady Chloë and her family and he will come for you personally with the king’s blessing.”

  Ingilby digested the statement. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin and began to pace thoughtfully. “Where was the lady when he told you this?”

  “She was under his protection, my lord.”

  Ingilby lifted an eyebrow, “Hmpf,” he snorted. “I would suspect that more than likely, he said it simply to impress her. Perhaps he wants her for himself.”

  “It is a possibility, my lord. She is a beautiful woman.”

  Ingilby looked at him, annoyed. “Too beautiful for a knight with a big mouth and bold threats,” he growled. “Find out what you can about this knight, this Keir St. Héver. We know he serves Coverdale but he mentioned he used to serve the king. See if you can find someone who knows about him. Find out why he left the king. Find out why he feels brave enough that he may issue a threat to me.”

  “And then what, my lord?”

  Ingilby shrugged lazily, his gaze moving to the windows of his solar that overlooked the bailey. He could see his weary and beaten men returning.

  “I will know when I find out more about him,” he muttered. “No man stands between me and my wants. St. Héver and Coverdale will learn the hard way.”

  The soldier fled, leaving Ingilby to his twisted and delusional thoughts. The more he thought on the mysterious and audacious Keir St. Héver, the more obsessed he became.

  *

  “I had not heard that the de Geld daughters were such beauties,” Lucan said. “Had I known, I might have considered courting the redhead. I still might.”

  This morning, after the three straight days of rain, had dawned bright and spectacular. The land was green, the hills bright like emeralds glittering under the sun. The army from Aysgarth Castle was returning home along muddy roads and bright skies, bringing with them three members of the de Geld family.

  Keir was at the head of the column, riding his big brown charger with the hairy white legs. Mud splashed up as the horses moved along the road, kicking up rocks and debris left behind by the storm.

  Keir had been listening to Lucan ramble on about Chloë and Cassandra de Geld, pitting the pretty blond against the spectacular redhead. When he realized that Pembury growled at him every time he brought up the blond, his attention veered towards the redhead and that’s where it had remained for the last half hour. Keir had finally had enough.

  “Lucan,” he snapped. “Head to the rear of the column and remain. Although I do not believe Ingilby to be in any shape to pursue our army, I will not take any chances. Stay back there and ensure our retreat is clean.”

  Lucan glanced over his shoulder, along the sea of men behind him. “We saw no sign of them this morning or last night,” he said casually. “I do not believe they would be stupid enough to follow us. They would only be beat down again.”

  Keir’s normally fastidious patience was in danger of wavering. He was edgy today and had been since they had left Exelby. He couldn’t explain why his belly was quivering other than he had spent all night with thoughts of luxurious red hair on his mind. He’d even dreamed about it and then had awoken to an angel in their midst.

  Whatever odd pangs of compassion he had felt for Chloë de Geld yesterday had only grown stronger, stronger still when he saw her that morning as she and her family prepared to ride to Aysgarth. He had therefore positioned himself far away from her at the front of the column and Lucan’s questioning of an order had him snappish.

  “Go,” he barked softly. “Remain there until we reach Aysgarth.”

  Lucan did as he was told without further debate. As he reined his destrier around, Pembury shouted at him. “Stay away from the women,” he barked.

  Lucan sneered at the man before charging back along the column. That was as much as he dared do, running away so that Pembury could not follow and clobber him. Although he and Michael were old and good friends, Pembury wasn’t beyond taking a swipe at him when his temper had the better of him. Sometimes the fun was in provoking him.

  Keir ignored the banter between the knights, focused on the mucky road ahead and thinking that they would be seeing the tall north tower of Aysgarth in the early afternoon if they continued at their current pace. Once arrived and Coverdale settled, Keir intended to travel on to Pendragon and forget all about the Lady Chloë de Geld and her supernatural hold on his thoughts. But even as he fought to put her from his mind, she would come back more strongly than before. It was an effort not to turn around, casually, to inspect the column and find her luscious red head somewhere back in the mix. As he struggled with his thoughts, a dark Spanish Jennet appeared next to him.

  Keir glanced over at Lord Byron as the man wrestled with the new stallion that was a bit too much horse for him. The man was exhausted from riding the animal over just the few miles they had traveled, but he would never admit it. The baron’s ego was a fragile thing.

  “Our pace is well,” Byron said, two-handing the reins as the horse fought against him. “We should be home in a few hours.”

  Keir’s visor was up as his ice blue gaze moved over the wet, green morning. “I will be leaving directly for Pendragon,” he told his liege. “Is there any business you would have me attend to before I go?”

  Byron glanced at the knight, a man he’d known since he had been newly knighted at twenty years of age. Keir was the most capable man he knew, strong, fearless and exceedingly wise, but something in him had died that day Madeleine and little Frances had perished. Keir just wasn’t the same man, as if all of the joy in life had left him. There was something vacant and hollow there.

  Byron swore the only thing that kept the man going was the fact that his son’s body had never been found and he presumed the boy had been captured. He swore that Keir lived every day waiting for news of his son, even after they had spent the full year af
ter the siege of Pendragon scouring the entire north of England looking for the boy. No one had seen him or even heard about him. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.

  Even now, as he gazed at Keir and the question hung between them, there was still something dead and vacant in Keir’s manner. It made Byron’s answer all the more interesting.

  “There is, actually,” he replied casually. “First, you will tell me why you sent word back to Ingilby that you would personally confront the man if he tried to make contact again with the Lady Chloë de Geld.”

  Normally unflappable, Keir struggled not to appear confused or defensive. “It was a threat made in the heat of combat and nothing more,” he replied evenly. “I thought perhaps it would force Ingilby to think twice before molesting the woman again or trying to attack her family if he believed another knight was involved, someone of power and rank.”

  Byron wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. “Perhaps,” he replied, “but I fear that all you have succeeded in doing is informing Ingilby that Coverdale is now involved. If he finds out Lady Chloë is no longer at Exelby, he will assume she has gone to Aysgarth. It would be the logical assumption.”

  Keir looked at him. “Perhaps, my lord,” he agreed without remorse. “But Aysgarth can take care of herself. Moreover, I doubt Ingilby would risk conflict with you. Your military might is well known.”

  Byron pulled back on the reins when his feisty horse acted up. “Even so, her father is worried about her. This entire siege was because of her. He wants her safely tucked away.”

  “And she will be at Aysgarth.”

  “She will be better protected at Pendragon.”

  Keir looked at the man as if he had physically struck him. The normally cool demeanor flared as he stiffened in outrage. The first words on his lips were those of refusal but he knew that he could not speak them; Pendragon was Coverdale’s castle and he could do with it as he pleased. If Byron wanted the girl to go to Pendragon because he felt it was safer for her, then Keir would have no say in the matter. The thought of Lady Chloë within walls that had seen so much hell and happiness for Keir left the man reeling with shock.