England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was a very touchy subject, something that Blanche had tactfully refrained from. As Chloë looked stricken at her father’s question, even Blanche cast her husband a long glance. Keir, however, remained cool.

  “He has not, my lord.”

  “Do you continue to search for him or have you simply consigned the matter to God?”

  Keir fought to keep his emotions down at the extremely delicate subject. “I am always searching for him, my lord,” he replied steadily. “He is my son. I will search for him until the day I die.”

  Anton nodded. “But you will be taking on a new wife and, presumably, new children,” he pointed out. “What of the children you have with my daughter? Will they be your heirs or will you hold out for your missing son?”

  “Father!” Chloë shrieked in protest, shooting to her feet. “That is not a suitable question. It has nothing to do with our marriage!”

  As Keir tried to shush her softly and pull her back down into her chair, Anton went on the defensive.

  “It is a reasonable question, Chloë,” he insisted. “I must know if this man will take care of you and your children or if he will view you as a replacement for the family he lost. Will he view you as a substitute for the wife that was murdered and will he see her when he looks at you? It seems that a man who has known such heartache would have emotional issues he may not be able to overcome. You would suffer, child.”

  By now, even Blanche had hushed her husband. Anton was naturally submissive to his wife but he believed he had a legitimate question. Chloë stared at her father in horror before bursting into tears.

  “You are hateful,” she sobbed. “I cannot believe you would be so cruel to Keir when he has done nothing to deserve it!”

  She was trying to pull away from the table but Keir had her, gently trying to coax her to regain her seat. Chloë wept and struggled to pull away, not wanting to create a scene but terribly upset with her father. Keir had his big arm around her torso, blocking her from leaving completely. As Chloë wept softly into her hand, Keir looked at Anton.

  “I must put myself in your position when understanding the sincerity of your question, my lord,” he said evenly, although he was growing upset simply because Chloë was so upset. “I understand that you want the best possible match for your daughter and I respect that. But you must understand that I love Chloë very much and do not consider her a replacement for the wife lost. The past cannot be undone and I do not wish for things that cannot be. It is my hope to regain my son someday and I will never stop looking for the boy, but any children Chloë and I have will be mine, body and soul, and I will love them and provide for them to the very best of my abilities. They will want for nothing.”

  “That may be,” Anton continued. The fact was that he truly believed he was acting in his daughter’s best interest as he formulated questions that were meant to be probing but only made him look foolish. “However, I am deeply concerned at the amount of grieving you did for your first wife.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it suggests that perhaps my daughter cannot compete with a dead woman’s memory,” he pointed out. “Tell me, St. Héver, if your dead wife was to walk into the room this very moment, who would you choose? Her or my daughter?”

  It was a bluntly malicious question, one that was not lost on Keir. He did not want to start off his marriage to Chloë with a distinct distaste for her father, but it was an unnecessary question that was meant to trick him. No good could come of it and he knew it.

  “Chloë,” he replied with a hint of disgust in his tone. “Satisfied?”

  Anton digested his statement, nodding as he came to terms with the man and his ability to remain calm under ridiculous scrutiny. His blue-eyed gaze moved to his stricken daughter, standing next to Keir with her back to the table. Keir had his enormous arms around her, preventing her from going anywhere.

  “Chloë,” Anton said in a low voice. “Sit down.”

  “Nay,” Chloë snapped. “I will not sit and listen to your cruelty.”

  “Do you want to marry this man?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then sit down. I will not tell you again.”

  Chloë wiped her eyes, struggling for composure. Without a word, she gently removed Keir’s arms from her torso and bent down to kiss his cheek. It was a surprising show of affection in full view of her parents, something under normal circumstances the modest woman would have never done. Silently and without a hind glance, she walked from the table.

  Across the table, Cassandra watched her sister wander away. She closed her eyes tightly, with great sorrow, before turning to her father.

  “You hurt her,” she hissed. “How could you be so cruel to Keir?”

  Anton would not back down. “It is my duty as a father to make sure the man Chloë selected is suitable,” he pointed out heatedly. “You will not question me.”

  Beside him, Blanche rose from her chair. Before leaving the table, she turned to her husband. “I will speak with her,” she said softly but with undeniable firmness. “You will now give Sir Keir and Sir Kurtis permission to wed our daughters.”

  Anton looked up at his wife, his mouth hanging open. “But…!”

  “You will do this,” Blanche cut him off.

  “But I am not finished!”

  “You have done enough. Give your permission now.”

  Anton was gearing up for an epic protest but the words died on his lips. It never did any good to argue with Blanche because she always got what she wanted in the end. As Blanche left the table, Anton looked to the two brother knights, now gazing back at him with varied degrees of hope and apprehension. His lips flattened into a thin line of resignation.

  “You heard the woman,” he said with some irony. “You have my permission.”

  Cassandra squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Kurtis and hugging him tightly as Keir smiled faintly and lifted his cup to Anton. Anton returned the gesture purely out courtesy and not because he was genuinely happy about it. He never even got the chance to pick away at Kurtis. He drained his cup and demanded more alcohol as Keir drained his chalice, rose from the table, and went off in search of Chloë and her mother. Even if Blanche wanted to speak with Chloë privately, still, he wanted to be the one to give her the good news.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The hour was very late but Keir couldn’t sleep. On the battlements of Aysgarth, he leaned back against the cold stone of the southeast tower, gazing out over the moonlit Yorkshire landscape and thinking on the course his life was about to take.

  One month ago, he was consigned to a dull existence, still hurting for the family he had lost and resigned to the fact that he would grow old and bitter alone. But with the event of the siege of Exelby and the introduction of the youngest daughter of Anton de Geld, he was looking at such joy and possibilities that he could hardly comprehend it all. When he lay down to sleep, his mind was working madly over Chloë, their coming wedding and their life together. He couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. Chloë filled his mind from top to bottom.

  So he came to the battlements to clear his thoughts. As he stood there and gazed over the silver land, he kept reliving Anton’s question to him… If your dead wife was to walk into this room, who would choose? He had given Anton the answer he sought, an off the cuff reply that he hadn’t thought hard on. But now that he’d had time to think on it, he kept coming around to the same answer and he felt guilty for it.

  He and Madeleine had been pledged very young, so she was not someone he had chosen for himself. It was purely by chance that he liked her, eventually coming to love the small woman with the long dark hair and quirky sense of humor. She could make him laugh. But with Chloë, there was such an overwhelming emotional and physical attraction to the woman that he couldn’t seem to breathe when she was around. It was as if she filled up every part of him with her luscious beauty and sweet manner. She made him feel special, as if he was important in her eyes, and all he wanted to do wa
s love and protect her. Were Madeleine and Chloë to stand side by side and he was forced to choose, as much as he respected and loved Madeleine, he knew in his heart that he would have to choose Chloë. She was very quickly becoming his all for living. And that realization made him feel increasingly guilty.

  Pushing himself off the stone wall, he moved to the parapet and rested his elbows upon it, leaning against the wall as he gazed over the front of the wall. There were soldiers with big dogs and torches patrolling the exterior of the castle, the road and the woods just to the south. He could see the torches moving through the dark trees, phantom floating balls of light in the blackness.

  His mind began to wander to the impending wedding; when he had informed Chloë of her father’s permission earlier in the evening, all the woman did was squeal. Keir’s ears still hurt but it brought a grin to his face to remember her happiness. Chloë’s mother already had plans for sending out announcements and the location of the weddings. She, too, mentioned the church in Leaming but Keir wasn’t going to argue with the woman at the moment but he fully intended to before she sent out any invitations. At that moment, he simply wanted to enjoy the thrill of Chloë becoming his wife.

  “What are you doing up here?”

  The soft female voice came from behind him and as he turned, Chloë suddenly appeared beside him. He had been so swept up in his reflections that he hadn’t heard her approach. Surprised, but very pleased, he grinned at her.

  “I am making sure the castle is safe while you are sleeping,” he told her. “At least, I thought you were sleeping. Why are you not in bed like a good girl?”

  Wrapped in a dark blue cloak against the cool night, she smiled up at him as she wound her hands around his left arm, snuggling against him.

  “I could not sleep,” she admitted. “Every time I close my eyes, all I can think of is you and our wedding. I never knew I could be so excited. I feel as if I am walking on clouds.”

  He chuckled softly. “I feel the same,” he agreed. “That is why you find me here. I could not sleep, either.”

  “May I join you in your insomnia, then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She leaned her head affectionately against his arm and he kissed the top of her head, eventually putting his arm around her and pulling her close. Together, they gazed off across the moonlit night.

  “I never thought I would be happy ever again,” he murmured. “But I find I am so joyful that I am actually eager for the future. I have never felt that way before.”

  She smiled up at him, her porcelain face framed by the dark blue cloak. “Nor have I,” she said. “I will confess that I imagine what our children will look like. Perhaps we will have six girls who look just like me.”

  He laughed softly as she giggled. “I could only be so blessed,” he replied, brushing a stray lock of red hair from her cheek. “I cannot imagine a house full of little Chloës but I am sure it would be a loud and beautiful place. I would have men from here to the Holy Land beating down my door.”

  She continued giggling. “Or, we could just as easily have six boys in your image.”

  He grunted. “I could field my own army with a powerful group like that. It would make me the envy of all men.”

  She watched his expression, her smile fading as she thought on sons of Keir St. Héver. “Was your son just like you?” she asked softly.

  He looked down at her, seriousness in his gaze. After a moment’s reflection, he nodded. “Just like me,” he replied. “Merritt was a big lad with very blond hair. He had a little wooden sword that I had given him and he used to carry it around constantly. He would try to fight me and the other knights with it.”

  She could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke even though his expression remained somewhat warm. She reached up and gently stroked his cheek.

  “He is out there, somewhere,” she encouraged. “I will help you search for him. We will not stop until we find him.”

  The warmth returned to his eyes and he kissed her on the forehead. “That is sweet of you,” he said. “Truth be told, I am not sure where else to look. I spent a year wandering the north of England looking for any sign of him but there was none. I have paid people for information, thrashed and threatened them to tell me what they knew, but nothing I was able to glean came to fruition. I try not to grow discouraged but it is difficult.”

  Chloë sighed faintly, rubbing his cheek with her soft palm. “Someone, somewhere, knows something about him,” she assured him. “We will find that person and we will bring Merritt home.”

  Keir hugged her tightly, thinking on his blond-haired son and the sadness the memories provoked. It was difficult not to become disheartened at all of the failure he had met with in the search for his little boy. He’d spent so much time focused on finding him alive that when the dark fingers of depression grabbed at him, it was increasingly difficult to fight them off.

  “He has probably forgotten about me,” he muttered, letting his disenchantment show through. “He was so young when he disappeared. He probably does not even remember who I am.”

  She could hear the despair in his voice and she shifted so her arms were wrapped around his torso. She gazed into his handsome face.

  “He will remember the man who gave him a wooden sword,” she assured him softly. “I am very much looking forward to meeting Me-Me and I have little doubt that someday, we will find him.”

  He tried to be positive along with her. “It is my hope,” he said sincerely. “Speaking of Me-Me, did you receive any more visits from our little ghost girl during the time we did not speak? I assumed you would tell me if you did.”

  She shook her head. “Oddly enough, she has not come back and I am worried about her.”

  “Worried? Why?”

  Chloë shrugged. “I suppose because I feel so sorry for her, this little ghost girl who is looking for her little brother. She is all alone and I feel very badly for her.”

  Keir fell silent a moment. “I have a confession,” he murmured. “There were times when you were not in your chamber and I went in, calling to Frances and seeing if she would come to me.”

  Chloë looked at him, not surprised by his admission. As a caring father, she expected nothing less. “And?”

  He shook his head. “She never appeared.”

  He seemed sad about it. Chloë hugged him gently. “Not to worry,” she whispered. “We will all be together again someday. I have faith in you, Keir. You are not a man who knows failure.”

  He was touched by her words, by her respect for him. She made him feel strong again and he hugged her tightly, rocking her sweetly in the moonlight and thinking on the future for all of them, his brother and Cassandra included. Thoughts of Merritt drifted from his mind as he began to think on his somber brother and how much Chloë’s sister had brought the man out of his shell.

  “Is Cassandra awake also?” he asked softly.

  Chloë’s thoughts shifted from Merritt to her sister. “She is not in her chamber so I would assume so.”

  Keir thought on all of the greater implications of that statement and of his brother, so quiet and serious, yet with a decidedly lusty streak in him. While Kurtis had accused Michael of his rutting ways, it was a fact that Kurtis liked it hard, fast and frequent. He wondered how Cassandra would deal with that hot blooded aspect of her new husband but he didn’t say anything to Chloë about it. If Cassandra wanted her sister to know, she would tell her.

  “I thought she was the sister who had accompanied you to Pendragon so you would not be unchaperoned and fall victim to men’s wiles,” he teased. “Now you tell me she is not in her bed? I find that shocking.”

  Chloë giggled as she gazed up at him. “If she is only half as joyful as I am, then I am sure she and Kurtis are being sleepless together.”

  Keir grinned, kissing the end of her nose and cupping her face with a great hand, stroking her velvety cheek with his thumb.

  “We will spend many nights like this together, I assure you,”
he promised, bending down to kiss her soft mouth. “I do not intend to ever let you out of my sight, not even for a moment.”

  Chloë responded to his kiss, delivering a heated one of her own. Keir’s body language changed dramatically at her lusty response as he pushed against her, his hands coming up to hold her head still as his mouth feasted on her warm lips. Seconds before, he had been affectionate but proper. Now he was a man in love, his physical needs gaining the better of his self-control now that he knew Chloë would be his wife. There was no reason to restrain himself in the least, so he devoured her tender lips, his tongue tasting her mouth before moving on to her cheeks and neck.

  In his grasp, Chloë gasped softly in awakening passion. Keir feasted on the flesh of her neck before returning to her mouth and kissing her so hard that Chloë had to tear her mouth away or suffocate. As she gasped for air, he began to come to his senses and realize he was ravaging her for all to see. She was his now, legally, and his self-restraint was suffering. He stopped kissing her and put an arm around her, pulling her towards the southeast tower.

  “Come,” he said softly.

  Chloë was still trying to catch her breath. “Where are we going?”

  “Where Kurtis and Cassandra have gone.”

  She looked queerly at him as he grinned, taking her down the narrow spiral stairs to the bailey below. It was cold and dark in the bailey, being patrolled by soldiers and torches, as Keir put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards the keep.

  “Where are you taking me?” Chloë could see the keep looming head.

  “I am taking my betrothed back to her chamber,” he told her, noting her look of disappointment. He grinned. “Not to worry, love. I will not leave you alone.”

  She fought off a smile as they entered the keep. The great hall was directly in front of them, the spiral stairs that led to the upper floors to the left. There were still people in the great hall, drinking and talking, and Keir peered inside, keeping his gaze on Coverdale and Anton at the table as he motioned Chloë up the stairs. She slipped up the stairs, racing to the third floor as quietly as she could. As she hit the landing, Keir suddenly appeared behind her and together, they silently made their way into Chloë’s borrowed chamber and quietly bolted the door.