England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  His smile faded, thinking on the chaos and battles that lay ahead, abhorring the fact that he would be pulling Gaithlin into the depths of the vortex like a weighty anchor. But he knew that there was no other course if they were to achieve what they both so obviously desired – each other.

  He didn’t even know if Gaithlin realized she needed him; certainly, she had thanked him for showing her a measure of freedom that she had never known to exist and she had furthermore proclaimed her contentment within his company. And he had been positive that he had read a mirror of his own emotions within the depths of her deep blue eyes on more than one occasion; occasions that were coming more and more frequently until they seemed to run headlong into each other. No more division of sentiment. No more division of blood and hatred and legacy.

  A large Scot with a crown of wild red hair rounded the corner of a distant structure and headed directly toward him. Struggling to pull himself from his train of thought, Christian recognized the elder son of the produce merchant. As the man advanced in anticipation of the message he would carry, Christian was unsuccessful in completely clearing his thoughts and found himself wondering if he would be forced to choose between Gaithlin and his St. John inheritance at some point in the future. He wondered if his enraged father would force him to give up the only woman he had ever remotely cared for in lieu of being granted his substantial endowment.

  Whether or not Gaithlin would be his wife, it was not out of the realm of possibility that his father would force him to make a choice. But it was not a difficult one.

  Listening to Gaithlin’s throaty laughter once again, Christian realized there was nothing on this earth worth relinquishing the woman he had seen on that distant summer day, swimming in the shimmering lake with all of the grace and beauty of a mythical mermaid. A woman who had unknowingly endeared herself to his soul and had branded herself upon his heart.

  As of that warm August day, his choice had been made for him.

  There was no turning back.

  ‘I set the Wheels of Fate in motion myself,

  suspecting of the chaos I had unleashed.

  Like the ungrateful child that I was,

  there was no swaying my convictions.

  There is no truer loyalty that Love.’

  ~ Chronicles of Christian St. John

  Vl. VII, p. CIX

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I told you that your daughter was in the company of Christian St. John. Did you not believe me, my lady?”

  Alicia knew Lady Maggie to be irritated with the apparent lack of faith in her information; furthermore, she could hardly blame the woman. Short of calling her a liar, she had not been discreet with her assessment of the lady’s covertly-delivered details and had even gone so far as to command Eldon to relay the painstaking factors of his trip to St. Esk. Seated in fuming silence, Maggie had listened impatiently to the knight’s deliberate accounting.

  “ ’Twas not a matter of disbelief of acceptance, my lady,” Alicia answered calmly. “My husband merely thought it wise to confirm your information before we acted accordingly. And, as we discovered, you were entirely correct.”

  Maggie’s gaze was cool on the ruddy, compact woman seated across from her. “I see,” she said calmly, realizing that to become angry with the de Gare lack of faith would only serve to hinder the achievement of her true motive. And her true motive, of course, was to convince Winding Cross’ army to ride northward to save their heiress.

  Shifting on the splintering chair, she tried to hide her irritation, focusing instead on the message she was prepared to deliver. With twenty of Kelvin’s men waiting to escort her back to Forrestoak, she was concerned that lurking St. John spies would identify her borrowed escort and return the information to their liege. And a suspicious Jean St. John would not be a healthy ingredient to her vengeful stew. Daintily, she cleared her throat and focused on the older woman.

  “Certainly I do not fault you for confirming my information, for it would be a natural path of progression,” she said quietly. “However, as I promised, I have located the whereabouts of your daughter through great hazard on my part. Jean St. John was unwilling to divulge the information and I fear I had to compromise both my integrity and my life in order to obtain your daughter’s location.”

  Alicia’s gaze held steady, although she didn’t believe her slickly embellished story for a minute. She could hardly imagine that a woman as shrewd as Margaret du Bois would be placed unwillingly in a position that would compromise both her integrity and livelihood; somehow, she suspected the woman’s reputation and integrity to be jeopardized already.

  “Then I would thank you for your determination and personal sacrifice,” she managed to say, still disturbed by the woman’s motives in the overall scheme of Gaithlin’s abduction. How could she benefit from all of this? “We are indebted to you.”

  Maggie offered a thin, entirely feigned smile. “Not at all, my lady. As I stated before, my reward is in knowing that I have prevented yet another atrocity committed by the Demon of Eden,” she removed her heavily-scented kerchief from her silk purse, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply as if the scent would fortify her spirit and courage.

  Alicia could smell the expensive perfume from where she sat, feeding her irritation considerably. Had the woman not truly possessed valuable information regarding Gaithlin’s captivity, she would have taken great pleasure in personally removing her from Alex’s solar. “I understand completely. Would you tell me, then, where my daughter is?”

  In her crumbling chair, Maggie’s smile turned genuine. “She is in Galloway,” she announced quietly, watching Alicia’s face turn a peculiar shade of yellow. “On Douglas lands, I believe. Jean is expecting a missive from Christian within the next few days that will definitively name the precise location with the intention of sending support into Scotland to fortify Christian’s holding. If I may suggest, my lady, your spies would do well to wait for the St. John posse to ride northward after receiving the Demon’s missive. They can lead you directly to your daughter.”

  Alicia continued to stare at the woman. Incapable of answering for the moment, the softly uttered words of her informant rolled with thunderous propulsion through the weary depths of her astonished mind. Douglas lands. Why on earth had the Demon taken her to Douglas lands? Alicia had no knowledge that the St. Johns were allied with the Douglas; if anything, they seemed to spurn Scot alliances in favor of more powerful English ties. As most of the north disregarded the wild Scots, so did the St. Johns. And so had the de Gares.

  An arrogant ignorance, truly. Alex had possessed little love for Alicia’s Scot bloodlines, as had his father. Alicia’s grandmother had been a Douglas, the lovely and tall Calandra Douglas. In fact, Alicia believed that Gaithlin inherited her height and clumsiness from her statuesque, beautiful grandmother. But a resemblance to the Scot was the only acknowledged link between the Clan Douglas and the House of de Gare.

  Alicia well knew that all Scot ties had been severed nearly the moment her grandmother had married into the wealthy Percys. Then, bearing a daughter who married into another household further had diluted the link, a union that had resulted in Alicia’s birth. By the time Calandra’s granddaughter married into the House of de Gare, the Scot blood ties were all but dissolved, forgotten in the distant past.

  A link she suddenly wished to be a steady, sustaining bond. Surely then, she would be able to regain her Gaithlin with the Clan Douglas on her side.

  However… if the Demon of Eden was knowingly nestled within the Galloway territories, certainly it was not coincidence. The Douglas were a protective clan and an intruder to their territories would not be disregarded. If Christian St. John had been offered haven within the shielding confines of the Galloway expanse, then there was far more to the situation than met the eye. Mayhap the St. Johns were indeed allied with the Douglas.

  Baffled and apprehensive, Alicia forced herself from her train of thought to focus on Maggie’s expectant face. The
woman was anticipating a reply to her military suggestion and Alicia struggled to form the correct response.

  “Clearly, that would be a wise course of action,” she said hoarsely, eager to dismiss the woman. “My… husband will take your advisement into counsel. If there is nothing else, my lady….”

  Sensing the conversation was concluded and eager to be free of Winding Cross’ mossy and forbidden presence, Maggie rose from the ancient chair and scarcely hid her disdain as she brushed the splinters and dust from her expensive gown.

  “Nay, my lady, there is nothing else,” she said, eyeing the round woman with the cat-like eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, the tone forthcoming from the red-painted mouth was considerably softer. “I hope you are successful in retrieving your daughter. I pray my assistance has not been in vain.”

  As Eldon emerged like a phantom protector from the dank depths of the solar to escort the pampered woman to the door, Alicia fixed her with as heady a stare as she could manage. “As do I,” she replied quietly. “You have our undying gratitude, Lady Margaret. ’Tis my fervent hope that we are able to repay your kindness, someday.”

  By releasing Christian from his captive, your repayment will be complete. Maggie’s mind churned with the obvious reply as she bowed her head graciously to her hostess. She had completed her mission; now it was time for inherent hatred and natural malice to take its course.

  Her eagerness to be gone from Winding Cross gained intensity as she crossed the room with the large knight on her heels. By the time she hit the Norman-style archway that led in to the shabby foyer, she was nearly running.

  Alicia heard the footfalls as they faded against the cold stone. Rooted to the spot, she continued to stare at the dim archway as if pondering the course the circumstance had unwittingly taken. The morbid realization that Gaithlin was in much deeper trouble that she had originally believed.

  “She is a lying bitch,” Uriah’s voice was a low rumble from the shadowed alcove next to the hearth. “She is a spy sent from Jean. The entire story smells of a trap.”

  Alicia broke from her train of thought, too caught up in her turmoil to caution the old knight to take care with his language. After a lengthy moment, she turned in the ancient warrior’s direction.

  “She was correct in her information the first time,” she sighed with defeat, her eyes dull and distant. “I have no choice, Uriah. If I am to retrieve my daughter, then I must have faith in her information.”

  Uriah snorted, raking dirty fingers through his equally dirty hair. “I still believe it to be a trap,” he suddenly paused, glancing to his weary, emotionally distraught lady. “Wasn’t your grandmother a Douglas?”

  Alicia’s jaw visibly ticked as she once again struggled against the verity of the shocking revelation. “That was a long time ago,” she said hoarsely, squaring her shoulders as if determined to disregard her turmoil in favor of a decisive course of action. “You will assemble the men, Uriah. I intend to take the woman’s advice and set spies to monitor Jean’s movements. When his men move northward to support the Demon’s position, we shall follow. The element of surprise will be on our side, of course, and I anticipate victory even now.”

  Uriah rose from his chair, a hairy eyebrow cocked at his mistress. “Victory against the Demon?”

  “Indeed,” Alicia refused to be discouraged by his pessimism. “We shall leave ten men here to protect the fortress and ride out with a full company of men and knights.”

  “Jean has more men than we do. What if he sends one hundred troops to fortify the Demon?”

  “As I said, the element of surprise will be ours. And, truthfully, our only objective will be to rescue Gaithlin and not to destroy troops that obviously out-number us.”

  Uriah ground his teeth, seeing that there was no swaying Alicia’s intentions. “I still say it is a trap.”

  “And I say we have no choice. We will take the lady’s advice.”

  Uriah sighed heavily, scratching his scalp as he came to terms with the future course of Winding Cross’ potential welfare. “Very well, my lady,” he muttered. “Will you be riding with us?”

  “Of course,” Alicia said briskly. “Where my men fight, so do I.”

  “Fight where?” Eldon re-entered the solar, his brown eyes inquisitive.

  Alicia turned to the knight, the lover she emotionally abused with her indecisiveness and paltry concerns. Gently, she smiled. “Come in, Eldon. We have laid a course of action.”

  Eldon glanced at Uriah, noting from the man’s dour expression that he was not pleased with “their” course of action. Bracing inwardly, he managed to return Alicia’s encouraging smile.

  “Very well, my lady. I am at your disposal.”

  Less than five minutes later, Uriah wasn’t the only knight with a dour expression.

  *

  The road to Forrestoak was alive with birds and the brightness of approaching fall. As Maggie drank in the scenery, she felt a sense of satisfaction; she had completed her objective admirably and her heart was as light as a feather. Christian was as good as in her arms and the de Gare bitch would be returned to her proper cage, away from the Demon who had been forced to endure her company.

  Of course, it occurred to her that Christian could suffer terribly in the battle that was sure to come as two opposing factions sought to separate the Demon from his captive. But she convinced herself that Jean St. John would do nothing to harm his errant son in anger and that the de Gares were merely concerned with retrieving their heiress, not exacting mortal revenge against the more-powerful Demon of Eden. Surely retrieving the woman would be enough without the sacrifice of St. John blood.

  She had to believe that no trauma would come to her intended. In faith, she refused to believe that she had ignited a furious blaze from which there was no knowing the full extent of devastation. A blaze that was already spreading, devouring all it touched, consuming that which it met only to leave the victim emotionally destroyed as a brittle cinder is achieved. All that mattered was that Christian would return to his senses and to her bed, where he belonged.

  Two hours out of Winding Cross, her sergeant estimated they would be approaching Howard lands within the hour. Maggie relaxed aboard her delicate white palfrey, thinking ahead to Kelvin’s reaction when she told him of her most brilliant, accomplished scheme to exact revenge upon both Christian and the de Gare bitch. Now that she had set the plan in motion, enmity would carry it through to the end. There was nothing left to do but observe the happenings from the safety of Forrestoak.

  To her left, a cluster of quail suddenly bolted from the underbrush, startling the excitable chargers. Maggie’s palfrey executed a nervous side-step, quickly soothed by her feminine rider. Just as the delicate animal collected her jittery senses, the underbrush once again came alive with noise and chaos. This time, however, it was not the result of flighty birds.

  Foaming destriers were upon them.

  Jolted with astonishment, Maggie was nearly pitched off her small horse as shouts and echoes abound amongst the densely-foliaged trees. Seized with the urge of self-protection, she was prepared to gore her mare forward in a mad dash for safety when she suddenly recognized one of the chargers.

  Jasper St. John blocked her path.

  Gasping with relief and fright, Maggie gulped for air at the sight of Christian’s massive cousin. “Jasper!” she cried. “My Goodness, you scared the life from me! What are you doing so far north?”

  Jasper didn’t reply for a moment. Steering his destrier towards the fragile, foaming palfrey, he easily blocked the animal’s escape. His reply, heavy with sarcasm and disgust, cloaked the air like a cloying stench.

  “I have a better question, m’lady,” he said. “What were you doing at Winding Cross?”

  Maggie stared at the man. His visor was down, his question laced in a tone that was nothing short of terrifying. At that moment, she thought of many things; the fact that her actions had been discovered and the undeniable fact that she had been tra
pped within the duplicity of her own foolish scheme. She would have laughed at her moronic mistake had the impending consequences not been veined with lethal intentions.

  Still, she was unwilling to succumb to the mounting panic. Gazing into Jasper’s menacing faceplate, she struggled to maintain an even expression.

  “Surely you jest, Jasper,” she said with as much disapproval as she could muster. “Who told you such slanderous lies?”

  Beneath his visor, Jasper smiled. He’d never liked the Lady Margaret du Bois, even on days when he was feeling particularly amiable. Lacking in intelligence though he might be, he was uncannily sharp when it came to the human character; coming to know Maggie over the past several years, hearing the rumors and seeing evidence of her infidelities that Christian had so blatantly disregarded, he had come to recognize a very petty, very vain woman. God, how he was going to enjoy this.

  “No one told me, m’lady,” his voice was low. “I saw the evidence myself. You see, Uncle Jean doesn’t trust you. He never has. When you fabricated the story of Christian’s failing loyalties, Sir Jean suspected that the true treachery lay within your black little heart and he demanded I follow you when your party left Eden this morn. And I must say I was not surprised to realize where the trail led.”

  Maggie knew her cheeks had drained of all color; the world began to sway dangerously and she gripped her gilded saddle for support. “ ’Tis not what you think, Jasper,” she said quietly, her clever mind working furiously to formulate an acceptable excuse for her actions. A lie to save her life. Jasper was dim-witted, was he not? Surely he would believe whatever story she could supply.

  Please… you will believe me!

  “The Lady… Lady de Gare is a distant friend of my mother’s and… oh, posh, I promised I would not tell, knowing how Sir Jean and Sir Alex are enemies. I traveled to Winding Cross to relay word of my mother’s illness to Lady de Gare, as my mother requested. It is a secret, Jasper, and you surely mustn’t tell. Christian doesn’t even know. I promise it will be the last time I visit Winding Cross.”