England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Michael, glaring daggers at Kurtis, started to obey but Kurtis wouldn’t move. He stood there and glowered at Michael, the man who was indeed set to inherit a barony and was, in fact, gloriously handsome.

  Perhaps if Kurtis was to think on it, there was some jealousy there. Kurtis, a rather quiet and serious man, wasn’t one to show interest in a woman but for some reason, Cassandra had his full focus. She was bossy and strong willed, but she was also very humorous and sweet. He liked that.

  With uncharacteristic frustration, he moved back to the table with his brother right behind him. Sitting heavily, he poured himself a full measure of wine.

  “You can have any woman you want, Pembury,” he muttered. “I, in fact, cannot. If I told you I was in love with Lady Cassandra, would you leave her alone?”

  Michael lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”

  “Possibly.”

  Michael shook his head. “That is not good enough. Either you are or you are not. Playing on my sympathies will only infuriate me.”

  Kurtis began to stiffen again. “I do not care if it infuriates you. Why can you not be a chivalrous man about this and understand this is not another one of your conquests? I am serious about Cassandra and I am positive you are simply looking for your next sexual victory. Are there not enough blue-eyed Pembury bastards in Yorkshire already?”

  Michael flew over the table with a cocked fist but Kurtis was ready. He clobbered Michael in the face, sending the man spinning off the table. Keir was up, jumping into the fracas as Lucan and Ranulf dove in to separate the combatants. Fists were flying in all directions as Chloë and Cassandra entered the hall.

  Eyes wide at the chaos, the women froze with shock the moment they entered the hall. Men were rolling around on the ground, throwing punches, and it was difficult to see who was fighting whom. There were toppled benches and toppled containers of wine, bleeding the expensive red liquid onto the floor. The dogs were barking at the commotion as Michael picked up Kurtis and literally tossed the man over the feasting table. Kurtis flew into the bench, breaking it with his bulk, and Cassandra screamed.

  “Kurtis!” she cried.

  The brawl came to a grinding halt as the men turned to look at the women standing in the arched doorway. Keir was on his knees, standing up when he saw Chloë, and making his way over to her. She looked at him in shock, noting the blood trickling from his nose.

  “What is going on in here?” she demanded softly, lifting a finger to wipe away the blood. “You are bleeding.”

  He ran his fingers over the smudge she had made, sighing heavily. “A disagreement,” he said vaguely.

  Cassandra ran to Kurtis, who was picking himself up from the shattered bench. She raced around the table in time to grab the man’s arm to try and help him up.

  “Kurtis,” she gasped. “Are you well?”

  Kurtis was dazed. He braced himself against the table so he wouldn’t fall down again. “I am fine,” he told her. “Nothing to worry over.”

  Cassandra was deeply distressed. She noted that the red skin around his right eye was already showing signs of bruising and she stroked his blond hair soothingly before turning furious eyes to Michael.

  “Why did you throw him like that?” she demanded.

  Michael could already see that he was at a disadvantage. His nose was bleeding and he had a couple of loose teeth. He would have liked to have had some female comfort but he could see that was not going to happen unless he could calm Cassandra down and woo her away from Kurtis.

  “A fight between men, my lady,” he replied steadily. Then he lifted his hands wearily. “It happens all of the time. It is nothing to concern yourself with.”

  Cassandra was raging. She returned her attention to Kurtis, who was pretending he was worse than he was. He could see the tides of favor rolling in his direction and he intended to take full advantage of it. He put a hand to his hand.

  “I think…,” he feigned a groan, “that I should lie down. My head is swimming.”

  Cassandra put one arm around his massive shoulders. “I will help you,” she said gently. “Where is your bedchamber?”

  Kurtis was feigning injury to the point of disbelief. “In the keep,” he grunted. “Your assistance would be most… appreciated, my lady.”

  Cassandra had a good grip on him as she helped him from the hall, casting a vicious glare at Michael as they went.

  “You are despicable,” she hissed. “Horrible, terrible and despicable!”

  Michael didn’t react other than to shoot Kurtis a dubious expression. The man was acting like an invalid all for the benefit of the lady, which put Michael at a terrible disadvantage in the battle for her affections. Cassandra caught Michael’s disbelieving glare and she jabbed a finger at him.

  “I saw that, Pembury,” she snapped. “You are positively hateful. I hope I never see you again, you wicked man!”

  Kurtis stopped moaning long enough to glance back over his shoulder, noting Pembury’s expression of defeat. When Michael caught his gaze, he sneered victoriously before returning to his moaning routine. As Michael shook his head and turned back for the table, Chloë went to her sister and the wounded knight.

  “Are you all right, Sir Kurtis?” she asked anxiously.

  Kurtis nodded, one big arm around Cassandra as she helped him to the door. “I shall be fine with your sister’s expert tending.”

  He grunted and groaned his way to the door as Cassandra carefully helped him. Even Keir thought it was an overdramatic performance at best but he didn’t let on. He smiled at Chloë when she turned her attention to him and reached out to take her hand as she seemed genuinely concerned for his brother.

  “I hope he is all right,” she said earnestly.

  Keir tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, patting her soft fingers. “He will be fine.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe I should go help my sister.”

  He held on to her. “He will be fine. No need to attend your sister.”

  “But if she…?”

  He turned to her swiftly and lowered his voice. “If you want my brother to offer for her hand by tomorrow, then you will leave them alone.”

  She looked at him with big eyes, her mouth forming an “O” as she realized what he was saying. Then her eyebrows drew together. “Is he feigning injury simply to gain her sympathy?” she hissed.

  Keir chuckled and shook his head, turning to the knights as they reached the table. The smile left his face as he looked at the men around him.

  “I trust we will have more civilized dinner entertainment with Lady Chloë at the table?” he asked Michael.

  Michael was feeling defeated and depressed. He nodded his head, noticing that Chloë was shooting him daggers with her glare also. He rolled his eyes as he regained his seat; it would seem he was destined to lose in all areas tonight.

  Sitting heavily, Michael grabbed a pitcher of wine and poured himself a sloppy cup. Frustrated and a little jealous when he saw how cozy Keir and Chloë were, he ended up leaving the hall and getting quite drunk in his chamber.

  As it turned out, one of the serving women Chloë had hired from town was apparently not too old or too ugly for Michael’s drunken taste. In a pitch-dark room, he could imagine his bed mate was Cassandra.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Aysgarth Castle was a busy place at any given time, even busier with the party from Pendragon that had unexpectedly arrived in the late afternoon. Now, as the sun set and the skies were turning shades of purple and dark blue, the enormous pale-stoned fortress took on an eerie glow. Torches flamed on the battlements, in the bailey, and in the great hall. There was fire and light everywhere, reaching deep into the night sky.

  Pendragon’s party consisted of Keir, Kurtis, Chloë, Cassandra, Lucan, Ranulf and twenty soldiers armed to the teeth. Michael had been left behind at Pendragon, mostly because of the hard feelings that existed between him and Kurtis and also because Keir needed the man to assume command of the fortress while he was gone. />
  Moreover, Keir wouldn’t put it past Michael to continue to try and woo Cassandra from his brother, and Keir didn’t need battling knights all the way to Aysgarth. After the incident in the great hall, Michael was out for blood. Sullen, defeated, Michael had remained behind.

  It was increasingly apparently, however, that Cassandra would not be wooed away from Kurtis regardless of Michael’s determination. The morning after the brawl between Kurtis and Michael, Cassandra and Kurtis were intently focused on one another, even to the point where Chloë was giggling happily every time she saw her sister and the knight together, which was constantly.

  Cassandra seemed to have found a man who was handsome, intelligent, and apparently didn’t mind that she was the bossy sort. Kurtis, big and silent, simply seemed to acquiesce to her in spite of the fact he’d never liked outspoken women. With Cassandra, it was different.

  So they had left the next day for Aysgarth, meeting Chloë’s deadline, to discuss marital contracts with Anton de Geld. It had taken nearly six hours to reach Aysgarth, the mighty bastion of Coverdale. Chloë had started off on a small gray palfrey, as had Cassandra, but halfway into the ride, both ladies ended up with their respective knights. Chloë rode with Keir, finally truly happy for the first time in her life, looking forward to a life with the man she loved. It all seemed like a dream, one that she was quite willing to experience. She never knew she could be so full of joy.

  Once they reached Aysgarth, the women disappeared inside with several female servants. The knights disbanded the escort, Lucan and Ranulf retreating to the bunkhouse while Keir and Kurtis headed into the enormous keep. Lord Coverdale and Anton had not yet returned from grouse hunting so Keir and Kurtis retired to the solar to wait out their return and possibly discuss the strategies of a marriage proposal. With time on their hands to wait now, anxiety, an unfamiliar emotion, seemed to be creeping upon them.

  “I have never done this before,” Kurtis said in a low voice. “It did not occur to me until this moment that I would be apprehensive. Since you have already done this once, perhaps you can offer some advice.”

  Keir looked at his brother, noting the man’s upper lip was sweating, which was highly unusual because Kurtis was the consummately cool man in any situation. He fought off a grin.

  “The only advice I can give you is to be forthright and honest,” he told him. “I have a feeling de Geld will accept nothing less.”

  Kurtis sighed faintly and began to remove his gloves. He’d been standing, stiffly formal, for over an hour, but his hands were sweating so badly that he had to remove his gauntlets to let his palms dry off.

  “I want to tell you something,” he said after a moment, his voice soft.

  Keir looked over at him from where he was standing near the lancet window overlooking the glowing bailey. “What is that?”

  Kurtis met his brother’s gaze. He seemed to be having trouble finding the correct words. “I said many things to you last week when I arrived, things that I should not have said,” he lifted his big shoulders. “I said them out of concern, brother, and nothing else.”

  Keir pushed himself away from the window and moved to the fine pewter pitcher of wine. Coverdale’s solar was lavish and he had his choice of several types of alcohol. He selected a heavy port and poured himself a cup.

  “What things?” he asked.

  Kurtis looked somewhat uncomfortable. “I told you to remove the women from Pendragon,” he said. “I told you to forget about Lady Chloë. I should not have said that.”

  Keir looked up from his cup, his pale blue eyes glittering. “I know you said it out of concern. You do not have to apologize.”

  Kurtis shook his head. “You do not understand,” he said. “When I said those things to you, I was remembering the brother who could not function after the death of his wife. I was terrified for you to go through that hell again. I was looking at it from a safe standpoint.”

  “Safe?”

  Kurtis nodded. “There is mental safety in remaining alone. The introduction of a woman you care for threatens that safety because it is too easy to lose control. You are the strongest man I know, Keir. To see you crumble… it was a shattering experience, something I never want to see again. And it is something I never want to personally experience.”

  Keir made his way to his brother, casually, cup in hand. “Are you telling me that you will not allow yourself to care for Cassandra?” he cocked a disapproving eyebrow. “It is apparent that she cares for you a great deal, Kurt. If you are not intending to permit yourself to become attached to the woman, then….”

  Kurtis held up a hand, interrupting him. “’Tis not that at all,” he assured him, meeting his eye. Then he shook his head as if truly baffled. “When I first met Cassandra, I was physically attracted to her. She is a beautiful woman. But the courting, the competition with Pembury… it started out as a game but it ended in something quite different.”

  “Different how?”

  Kurtis shrugged. “After last night, I think… I think I love the woman and it scares me to death.”

  A smile spread across Keir’s face and he clapped his brother on the shoulder affectionately. “Do not let it frighten you,” he said quietly. “Let it be your strength. You can move mountains with such strength.”

  Kurtis looked at his brother, grinning reluctantly when he saw the expression on his face. “I am sorry I tried to discourage you from Chloë,” he muttered. “I can see in everything about you how much she is coming to mean to you. You were correct; you have the right to find happiness again. I only came to understand that once I realized I was feeling something for Cassandra.”

  Keir wriggled his eyebrows in agreement and squeezed his brother’s shoulder before dropping his hand. There wasn’t much more he could say to that. As he turned around to pour himself more wine, the door to the solar opened.

  Chloë and Cassandra entered along with an older woman that Keir immediately recognized as Lady Blanche. The woman was formal, proper and austere with a hint of her younger daughter’s beauty. Keir winked at Chloë as he went to greet her mother cordially.

  “Lady Blanche,” he said. “It is good to see you again under better circumstances.”

  The Lady Blanche de Geld, formerly Princess Blanche of Rochedale, eleventh child of Henry the Third, was cool as she beheld Keir’s handsome face. He studied her in return. Due to the chaos surrounding her rescue from Exelby, he’d never truly had the chance to speak with or otherwise interact with the woman. He could see that she had Chloë’s big brown eyes and her hair was blond, like Cassandra’s. She had fine features and skin that was surprisingly smooth for her age.

  “Sir Keir,” she greeted him evenly, her sharp eyes still looking him over. “My daughters tell me that you have been a gracious host. You have our gratitude for acting protector to my daughters.”

  Keir was modest. “It was my pleasure, my lady,” he replied. “They are charming guests.”

  The older woman grunted faintly, perhaps with irony. “Charming enough that I understand you wish to offer for Chloë’s hand,” she said, her eyes finding Kurtis standing several feet away. “And this must be your brother. Well? Come here, young man. Do not stand in the shadows where I cannot see you.”

  Kurtis immediately moved to stand next to his brother, feeling his nerves return. The older women with the intense brown eyes had him anxious all over again.

  “My lady,” he greeted calmly enough. “I am Sir Kurtis St. Héver, Captain of the Guard for Yves de Vesci, the Earl of Northumberland.”

  Blanche cocked an eyebrow. “You are his chief commander?”

  “Aye, my lady. I command his three thousand-man army.”

  “What is your lineage?”

  Kurtis felt as if the interrogation was already underway. There was something in the woman’s manner that intimidated him far more than any father could have. He wanted to make a good impression because he sincerely wanted to marry the woman’s daughter, and he could feel the sweat
popping out on his upper lip again.

  “My grandfather served King Henry the Third and Prince Edward honorably at the Battle of Evesham,” he replied. “He was part of the successful plot to free Prince Edward from Simon de Montfort’s captivity and upon Henry’s restoration of the throne, my grandfather was given the commission Baron Glasbury, a title my father inherited. I will inherit it from him upon his death.”

  Blanche was critical in her assessment. “Are you propertied?”

  “I will inherit Afontawe Castle in the Welsh Marches upon my father’s death, my lady. It is a wealthy castle with tribute from the roads and passes leading from Hereford and Leominster into Wales.”

  Blanche’s critical eye began to ease somewhat. “And your family, knight? What of your blood lines?”

  Kurtis didn’t miss a step. “We are Breton, my lady, descended from Saint Héver of Brittany. We can trace our family line back more than four hundred years.”

  The knight’s quick, forthright answers had Blanche’s resistance fading. He was concise and formal in his delivery, something she appreciated. He seemed a little stiff, also, but she nodded faintly at the information, digested it, before turning to her eldest daughter.

  “This is the man you wish to marry?” she asked.

  Cassandra nodded, her eager eyes on the woman. “Aye, Mother,” she replied. “Kurtis is a good man. He will make a fine husband.”

  Blanche lifted an eyebrow at her daughter. Although she had been vocal of her disapproval of her husband’s decision to allow the girls to select their own husbands, secretly, she envied her daughters. She had wanted to select her own husband as well but her parents would not hear of it. Royal blood was not something to be treated lightly. With that in mind, she returned her focus to Kurtis.

  “You realize that my father was King Henry, do you not?” she asked.

  Kurtis looked startled. His gaze moved between Blanche and Cassandra, terrified that it was something he should have known and feeling rather peeved that no one had bothered to tell him. He said a swift prayer that his marriage proposal, based on that information, would not be doomed before he had a chance to present it.