England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Well,” Summer said thoughtfully. “It would seem to me that the physic was correct – you indeed injured your back when you fell. But I believe it will heal in time. The fact that you suffer no numbness tells me that there is no great damage, only bruising. It is my opinion that a good deal of rest, coupled with daily walks, will help you recover completely. As for your head, that too is something time will heal. I do not suspect you will have any permanent damage from your staircase adventure.”

  Keir looked at her as if he was afraid to believe her. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. She will recover.”

  Keir closed his eyes with relief and gratefulness. He held Chloë’s hand to his lips, eyes still closed as if praying.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said softly. “You have no idea how much relief you have given me. I cannot adequately express my gratitude.”

  Summer smiled as she stood up from the bed and pulled the coverlet over Chloë.

  “You already have,” she told him. “It is my pleasure to help an old friend of my father’s.”

  Chloë turned slightly as Summer came within her line of sight. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I feel much better having you examine me.”

  Summer’s smile broadened as she gazed down at her patient. “You are most welcome,” she said, sighing after a moment and brushing the stray hair from her eyes. “If you do not mind, now that I have accomplished my task, I would be very grateful for something to eat. We have been on the road for days and….”

  Keir was already on his feet. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said as he moved for the door. “I should have been more thoughtful. You have proved yourself incredibly durable and selfless in accompanying me from the borders and all I have done is think of my own problems.”

  Chloë was in the process of shifting to her back. “Have you not taken care of this woman, Keir?” she demanded, although there was jest to it. “How unchivalrous. I suppose you made her ride like the wind just to keep up with you, too.”

  Keir was at the door, lifting a blond eyebrow at her. “It was I who was riding like the wind to keep up with her,” he pointed out. “You should see this leggy gelding she rides. I swear the horse has wings.”

  Chloë giggled softly, looking up at Summer. “He is usually much more thoughtful. I apologize if he put you to any hardship on your ride here.”

  Summer helped Chloë shift onto her back. “He was considerate and kind,” Summer assured her, putting two pillows under Chloë’s knees to take the strain off the lower back. “Moreover, he had more important things on his mind.”

  Chloë cocked a doubting eyebrow. “Somehow, I think you are being kind. I know how the man is when he becomes singularly focused. He is blind to all else.”

  By this time, Keir had opened the door. He rolled his eyes at Chloë.

  “You ungrateful woman,” he muttered, finding Cassandra on the landing outside of the door. He addressed her. “Your sister is going to recover and when she does, I will spank her soundly for her insults. But for now, we would like some food, if you please.”

  Cassandra half-grinned, poking her head inside the chamber. “Chloë?” she couldn’t see her sister from the angle of the bed. “Who are you insulting?”

  Chloë grinned up at Summer as she spoke. “Keir,” she said. “He has been rude and thoughtless to the woman who has assured me that I will heal.”

  Cassandra laughed softly, glancing at Keir as she moved for the stairs. Blanche, Kurtis, Michael and Garran were still in the small hallway, with varied degrees of curiosity and anxiety on their faces. Keir opened the door wide to admit them entrance.

  “Lady Summer has declared that Chloë will heal and I choose to believe her,” he announced. “For now, she requires much rest and daily walks, and I require food, sleep and a priest.”

  As Blanche went straight to her daughter, Kurtis looked at Keir curiously. “A priest?” he asked.

  Keir nodded wearily, finally allowing himself to feel his exhaustion. Now that they had arrived at Aysgarth and he was assured that Chloë wasn’t on death’s door, he permitted himself the luxury of exhaustion. He hunted for the nearest chair, realizing he was at the point of collapse.

  “Aye,” he muttered. “I will not leave this place without marrying Chloë. Summon a priest.”

  Blanche heard him. She turned away from her daughter to gaze steadily at the big, blond knight, now slouched with his hands wiping wearily at his face.

  “Sir Keir,” she began somewhat hesitantly, an odd manner for the usually confident woman. “There have been some… issues since you left. I was told that you were to be informed. Perhaps we should retire to the solar to….”

  Keir looked at her, the ice blue eyes blazing. “I know of these issues,” he didn’t give her a chance to finish. “I know that Ingilby sent a missive addressed to me to which you inappropriately discovered the contents of, and I furthermore know that you quite presumptively responded to the missive. It was not your right, Lady de Geld, in any fashion, and I take issue with you for having sanctioned the action. Was your husband a part of this?”

  He was standing up and growling at her by the time he was finished. Blanche was not intimidated but she did have a healthy respect for the man. She tended to respect men who stood up to her, not cower at her feet like her weak-willed husband. Blanche held up her hand to calm the man.

  “Since you left for Wales and the controversy that surround my husband’s decision not to allow you and Chloë to wed, he has left all subsequent decision making to me,” she said, somewhat softly. “In answer to your question, he was not a part of the response to Ingilby.”

  “So it was you who took charge of something that was not your right?”

  She was subdued. The woman didn’t seem at all like the austere, self-assured women he had come to be acquainted with as Chloë’s mother. She was quieter somehow, perhaps even timid to a certain extent. Perhaps all of the events over the past few weeks had caught up to her and even she was showing signs of weakness.

  “Believe me when I say that it was not my choice,” she replied quietly. “Chloë read the missive and believed it was in your best interest for her to make the decision. She did not want you to go through the hell of having to choose between her and your son. She is my daughter, Sir Keir – I agreed to help her because it meant so much to her. She was determined to do it with or without my help and, like you, I cannot refuse her.”

  Keir cooled somewhat, knowing that what the woman said was more than likely true. He sighed heavily after a moment, with some regret, before moving in the direction of the bed. Blanche reached out to stop him.

  “Where are you going?” she asked softly.

  “To speak with Chloë about it,” he replied.

  Blanche shook her head. “She does not remember any of it,” she whispered. “She does not remember the missive or agreeing to Ingilby’s terms. She does not even remember the part about the boy. I have not mentioned anything to her for fear of upsetting her. We have not yet heard from Ingilby, so I see no need to upset her until we absolutely must.”

  Keir stared at her a moment before sighing again, this time with great emotion. He ran his hand across his cropped hair, pensive and agitated. After several moments of indecisiveness, he looked at Blanche.

  “I will marry her before I leave Aysgarth,” he declared. “Ingilby be damned.”

  Blanche’s dark eyes were intense. “But what of your son?”

  Keir shook his head. “Ingilby does not have my son,” he replied firmly. “I would stake my life on it. He is simply trying to gain Chloë by other means, another in a long list of tricks he has used to try and obtain her for his own.”

  Blanche watched his face, his expression, to see just how serious he was about his statement, but he seemed resolute.

  “What if you are wrong?” she wanted to know. “What if he really does have your boy and the child suffers because of your decision? How do you think that will affect your relation
ship with my daughter? You will grow to hate her.”

  Keir looked at her as if startled by the statement. “How can you think that?” he hissed. “I would never hate Chloë for a decision I made. Furthermore, I could never hate her under any circumstances. Have I not proved that my love for your daughter transcends all else? She is all to me, Lady Blanche. I am not sure how much clearer I can make that.”

  Blanche backed off, but it was hesitantly done. She didn’t want to see Keir make a rash decision that Chloë would suffer for in the end. For a man who had been searching for his lost son for three years, to deny the possibility that the child was finally found alive did not seem logical. But, then again, men in love were not logical creatures.

  “We have already extended an offer to Ingilby,” she finally muttered. “What would you have me do?”

  Keir’s features hardened. “I will marry Chloë immediately and you will send a missive to Ingilby rescinding your offer. Have a marriage contract written up, witnessed and signed, and we shall be done with this madness once and for all.”

  Blanche nodded, quitting the room without another word. Keir watched her go, as did Kurtis, before the brothers turned to each other.

  Kurtis lifted his eyebrows at him. “What do you want me to do, Keir?”

  Keir began to unlatch the armor that had been a part of his body for nearly two weeks. “As I said before,” he repeated. “Summon a priest. Tell him he is to perform a marriage mass.”

  Kurtis nodded and quit the room, taking Garran with him, as Keir began to wearily remove his armor. Summer was still next to the bed, speaking softly with Chloë, and a glance over his shoulder showed that Michael was standing in the shadows of the room, watching Summer as she interacted with Chloë.

  Keir didn’t care if Michael remained, mostly because he knew he couldn’t remove him, anyway, so long as Lady Summer remained. Michael was on the woman’s scent and there would be no dissuading him.

  When all of the armor came off, the hauberk and mail coat ended up in a heap in the corner. Keir lugged his weary, dirty body over to the bed where Chloë lay with her knees propped up to take the pressure off her back. He was more exhausted with every step he took. As the women chatted quietly and Michael hovered in the shadows, Keir threw his dirty, beaten body onto the bed next to Chloë.

  Chloë yelped, startled when his significant weight jostled her, looking over to see that the man was on his belly, his face buried in the mattress next to her head. He was absolutely filthy and smelled strongly of dirt and body odor, but it really didn’t matter. He was alive and breathing, healthy and whole as when he had left her, and Chloë was content. She reached out to touch his dirty, sweaty head in a sweet and comforting gesture, feeling the satisfaction of finally having him with her again.

  However, it was fairly bold for the man to lie down next to her, considering they were not married. She hoped that Lady Summer didn’t think too poorly of them, but on the other hand, she didn’t much care. They were married body, heart and soul if not by law. Yet that too would soon be rectified.

  As Chloë leaned over to ask Keir if he wanted a pillow for his head, he suddenly let out a great snore that set both her and Summer to giggling. The man had fallen instantly, and deeply asleep, and Chloë merely looked at Summer and shrugged.

  “Poor dear,” she whispered. “He has had a trying day.”

  Summer smiled, shaking her head as she looked at Keir. “He will sleep for days now that his mind has been eased on your condition.” She looked back to Chloë. “Are you comfortable, my lady?”

  Chloë nodded. “My back feels much better with the pillows under my legs,” she said. “I am so glad you came. You have eased all of our minds considerably.”

  Summer’s smile brightened. “I am glad to help,” she murmured. “And now that you are tended, I think that I would like to eat and perhaps sleep just as Sir Keir is doing.”

  It was Michael’s cue to move. He had been waiting for just this opportunity, a chance to speak with Summer again and to be of service. From the shadows, he suddenly pushed himself off the wall and made his way towards her.

  “It would be my pleasure to escort you, my lady,” he said.

  Summer smiled up at the big knight. She was not oblivious to the fact that he had been very solicitous towards her since nearly the moment they met, but she wasn’t going to make an easy target for him. She was intelligent and beautiful, and knew her worth. Although Michael was exceedingly handsome and would inherit a barony, as he had boastfully told her, she didn’t want to make herself seem too eager to fall at his feet.

  “Dare I trust him, Lady Chloë?” she asked, her gaze on Michael. “He seems quite bold.”

  Chloë giggled as Michael’s face fell. “He is trustworthy,” she assured the woman. “I would tell you if he was not.”

  Summer could see Michael’s expression brightening again. She reached out and slipped her hand into the crook of his right arm.

  “Very well, Sir Michael,” she said. “I will permit you to escort me.”

  Thrilled, Michael escorted her from the chamber, leaving Chloë alone with the exhausted and snoring Keir.

  When the chamber door shut softly and the room was abruptly still, Chloë continued to stroke Keir’s head tenderly. She had slept so much over the past several days that she was no longer tired, content to watch Keir sleep beside her and listening to his snoring as if it were the sweetest music.

  It occurred to her as she gently stroked his head that she might, in fact, be dreaming. She’d had some very vivid dreams over the past few days, so she wouldn’t have been surprised if she awoke to find the bed next to her empty.

  She wiled away the rest of the afternoon listening to the reassuring snoring of Keir at her side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Ingilby had never been to Aysgarth before. In fact, he’d never even been near it. Although the castle wasn’t particularly far from his own residence, it was set in an area not too well traveled and nestled within the lush forests and valleys of Yorkshire.

  Ingilby had planned the trip carefully. The culmination of two years of effort was within his grasp in the form of Chloë de Geld and he wanted to make sure that nothing was left to chance. He had chosen his escort carefully and brought along every weapon in his considerable arsenal. The man had come prepared.

  The goddess was finally within his grasp.

  The rain from the past several days had eased, leaving a wet landscape and bright blue sky in its wake. The roads were uneven and mucky, more so as they neared the rocky terrain of Aysgarth. A gentle wind blew in from the west as they approached the soaring-walled fortress.

  Aysgarth sat like the jewel of a crown amongst a scattering of rocky peaks, beckoning with her great gray-stoned walls. The party from Ripon announced themselves to scouts who had been sent out from the fortress. Ingilby wasn’t shy about spreading his name, a name that Kurtis received from of the sentries as he packed up his charger for his return to Alnwick. That name sent him running for his brother.

  Keir had been asleep all night and into the morning. Chloë, feeling better than she had in days, had risen with the help of her sister as the two of them tried to be very quiet. They soon came to realize that they could whisper in nearly normal speaking tones and Keir slept right through it. He was no longer snoring like an old bear, now flat on his back and spread out all over the bed. He had practically pushed Chloë off at several points during the night.

  Keir’s breathing was deep and steady and, at one point when Chloë and Cassandra were chatting as Cassandra helped her sister bathe, he groggily pulled a pillow over his head to block out the noise they were making. That set the women to giggling.

  The hot water of the bath helped Chloë’s back tremendously. Keir slept through the servants lugging the tub into the room, through the water splashing, through Cassandra helping her sister scrape off weeks of dirt and wash her abundant mane of hair. The scent of lilacs filled the air from the soaps and oils
the women were using. He slept through Chloë being dried off, the tub being lugged out, and through the general commotion it created. Through it all, he slept. But he did not sleep through his brother.

  “Keir!” Kurtis burst into the chamber without knocking.

  Keir’s head shot up as both Chloë and Cassandra startled. The women were perched in front of the hearth, using the heat to dry Chloë’s hair. Cassandra dropped the comb in her hand and it bounced across the floor.

  “Kurtis!” she yelped. “Are you mad to burst in here like that?”

  Kurtis didn’t even acknowledge his wife, going straight to his brother instead. Keir was already sitting up, wiping his hands over his face to shake off fifteen hours of sleep.

  “Get up,” Kurtis snapped softly. “You must come with me now.”

  Keir rubbed the sleep from his eyes, although he was alert. “What is the matter?”

  Kurtis didn’t even look at the women. His expression was intense. “Not here,” he hissed. “Get dressed and come with me.”

  Keir almost questioned his brother again but thought better of it. From the man’s expression, it was serious indeed. Kurtis was not the excitable type but he was most certainly excited at this moment, and not in a good way. Keir stood up from the bed, looking around for his tunic.

  “By the window,” Chloë said helpfully, suspecting what he was looking for. “I had it washed for you.”

  Keir smiled at her, appreciatively, as he moved to the drying frame by the window that held his tunic. Chloë watched him closely as he pulled the dark blue linen over his head.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, hoping Keir would tell her what Kurtis would not.

  He smoothed the tunic over his broad chest, looking for his boots and struggling to shake off the grogginess.