Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Patrick held up a hand, annoyed that his simple trip to Castle Questing was now turning into a family event. “Fine,” he snapped, “but make sure the women and children are ready by dawn. I will want to leave early if we are to make it to Castle Questing while it is still light. And set up a contingent of at least one hundred men as an escort. If we have women with us, I want them well-protected.”

  Hector nodded, settling himself at the table by Alec as they turned the subject to other things and began to drink heavily. Across the table, Anson and Colm and Damien were still looking at Patrick, still lingering on the subject of the Dane princess. It was a serious dilemma they found themselves in and no one felt that more keenly than Patrick. It was tearing him in all directions.

  “Shall I ride with you to Questing, Patrick?” Damien asked. “Alec will be riding escort for his wife, and Hector for his, but you may need help with the lady.”

  Patrick shook his head wearily. “Nay,” he said. “I will leave you in charge with Anson and Colm. Seal up this place and be vigilant until I return.”

  Anson nodded. “The Swinton Clan cannot muster great numbers to move against us, at least not by tomorrow or even next week,” he said. “But they are allied with Dunbar and Black Douglas. I would be concerned that they would draw on that alliance if they tried to summon numbers against us.”

  Patrick knew that. He gazed into his empty wine cup, studying the dregs at the bottom as if to divine his future. “The truth is that they do not know we have the girl,” he said. “We left no man alive from the raiding party and we brought those left with us back to Berwick. It will, therefore, take some time for the Swinton Clan to realize we were the force that met their raiding party and, in truth, they can only assume we took their prize. They will not know that for certain. That is what I need to speak with my father about. And, God’s Bones, I do not need this complication right now, not when I am due to leave for my new assignment in London soon. This is not something I had anticipated nor do I want, but it seems that I am involved just the same.”

  Anson’s gaze was steady from across the table. “I was wondering how long it would be before you brought that up,” he said. “You do not want anything interfering with your new post with Henry.”

  “Nay, I do not. Especially not something like this.”

  The subject died down after that, mostly because no one knew what more they could say about it. There was much unknown revolving around the woman and the situation in general. There wasn’t one man at the table that wasn’t secretly glad that Patrick was taking the girl to his father at the mighty bastion of Castle Questing to, perhaps, make her William de Wolfe’s problem. Not that Patrick was a coward by any means, because he wasn’t, but the situation that had fallen into his lap was too big for one man to handle.

  Even a lap as capable as Patrick’s.

  Unbeknownst to his men, Patrick’s thoughts were revolving around the lady as well, but in a different fashion. After his fifth cup of wine, he finally left the small hall, heading to the staircase that led to the upper floors. He was fairly tipsy at that point but something was urging him to see to Lady Brighton’s health after her fainting spell. He was quite certain she was fine, with his sisters to tend her, but there was something pulling at him that demanded he see for himself. He would never admit that to his men, of course, especially after the conversation they’d just had about the woman. So he felt a bit deceptive and sneaky as he lied about seeking his bed but, instead, headed to see to the lady.

  A Norse princess. Clan war. Northman war.

  All of those things were spinning around in his head, made worse by the drink, but above it all, he could only think of the fact that the lady intrigued him so. It was purely her beauty and he knew that. He was hoping it was something that would pass, but he couldn’t shake the sense of attraction. He was coming to realize that he didn’t want to.

  As torn as he was at the moment, he did know one thing – as much as he professed not to let anything interfere with his new post with Henry, something told him that breaking his vow to the old nun would be more difficult than he imagined. And not all of it had to do with his honor.

  Much of it had to do with his intrigue in the beautiful young woman who had quite easily captured his attention.

  He was a man in trouble.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “What did you say to the woman to upset her so?” Katheryn demanded, though not unkindly. Her voice was full of concern. “She was hysterical, Atty. What nonsense did you tell her?”

  It was dark and quiet at this hour. Standing on the landing of the third floor living quarters, which was more of a corridor than it was actually a landing, Patrick tried not to look too guilty or too defensive in the face of his sister’s question. The amount of wine he had in his veins, however, was making it difficult. As a man who tended to ride on his emotions, wine only made it worse.

  “It is no nonsense, I assure you,” he said quietly. “What did she tell you that I said?”

  Katheryn gazed up at her older brother, rather perplexed by the entire situation. “Something about Dane kings and royal blood,” she said softly. “What did you tell her?”

  Patrick didn’t want to answer the question although, strangely enough, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to tell her personally. He knew he could trust her; Katheryn wasn’t a gossip. But he found he simply didn’t want to go through the entire explanation again. Perhaps when he was less tipsy, he would.

  “I will tell you later,” he said, peering over her head and into the darkened chamber beyond in an attempt to locate the lady. “Alec should be heading up to bed shortly. We must move the lady to another chamber. Has she calmed sufficiently?”

  Katheryn nodded. “She has. She is resting now.”

  “Where do you intend to put her for the night?”

  “I have sent Evelyn to prepare the smaller chamber at the end of the corridor, the one with the beautiful view of the river. That way, I will be close by if she needs anything.”

  Patrick turned to look down the corridor, seeing an open door at the end and a faint light moving around. “The chamber next to mine?”

  “Aye.”

  Somehow, he drew an odd satisfaction out of knowing the lady would be so close to him. He wondered if his sister could see it in his expression so he tried to appear unnaturally detached.

  “Thank you for your kindness in tending her,” he said, “but this will not be a permanent arrangement. I am taking her to Questing tomorrow and you and Alec shall be going also because Alec thought you would like to see Mother. Since the lady has nothing but the clothes on her back, I was hoping that you could prepare a few things for her, things that a lady might need on a journey. I am not entirely sure how long she will be at Questing, so anything you can loan her to wear or to use will be appreciated, I am sure.”

  Katheryn simply nodded, eyeing her brother in the weak light. Her gaze was somewhat probing. “There is something strange in the air, Atty,” she said after a moment. “What is it about this lady that has you so rattled? What is really going on?”

  He looked at his sister, realizing he hadn’t appeared as detached as he’d hoped. “I do not know what you mean,” he said. “I am not rattled. And there is nothing strange about her or the situation.”

  That wasn’t the truth but he was trying to deflect Katheryn’s questions. She was very intuitive and he didn’t want her knowing his mind or his thoughts, especially not when he didn’t even know them. As far as the truth behind Lady Brighton, his sister would know soon enough. He just didn’t feel like talking about it.

  Katheryn must have sensed his reluctance because she didn’t press him. She simply waved him off and stepped back into her chamber.

  “You needn’t worry about the lady tonight,” she told him. “I will take good care of her. She will be ready to leave in the morning. Are you going to sleep now?”

  Patrick realized his sister wasn’t going to let him see the lady because she w
as keeping him out of the room, guarding the door like a dog. So he simply nodded his head.

  “Aye,” he muttered. “I should try to catch a few hours of sleep.”

  “Still having trouble sleeping these days?”

  “Still.”

  Katheryn wasn’t unsympathetic. Patrick was known to be a terrible sleeper, made worse when he was worried or troubled. She wondered if he didn’t look terribly worried or troubled right now, although he didn’t seem willing to admit or elaborate on it. He was a man who tended to tell her his thoughts and feelings based upon the close relationship they shared, but tonight, that didn’t seem to be the case. She could sense that there was much more he wasn’t telling her.

  “How much have you had to drink tonight?” she asked.

  “Enough.”

  “Enough to help you sleep?”

  “Probably not.”

  “I will bring you a tonic. It will help you sleep.”

  He made a face. “None of those tonics. They taste terrible and do nothing.”

  Katheryn cocked a well-shaped eyebrow. “I have a hammer that will do much better than the tonics will but you never let me try it.”

  He fought off a grin as he turned in the direction of his chamber. “Get away from me, you brute.”

  He could hear her giggling as he walked away.

  Wearily, Patrick made his way down to the end of the corridor where his large chamber faced over the bailey and the donjon. It was a corner room so he had a view of the southeast and east exposures. It was a comfortable chamber for the garrison commander and he had a good many possessions stashed inside – a large table with maps, chairs, cushions, a wardrobe with a good amount of clothing, gifts and trinkets given to him over the years, and an enormous bed that was quite messy. It was comfortable enough but the problem with the chamber was that he could hear everything going on in the bailey below, and he was very attuned to any sounds or movements by his men. It was a terrible chamber for sleeping in.

  Still, he tried. It was his chamber, his bed, and he was happy here. Head muddled with drink and his thoughts whirling, he stripped off his clothing and fell into bed, hoping to shut out the world for a few hours. Given what had happened that night and what he was potentially facing, he suspected shutting the world out was an unrealistic expectation. He knew he wouldn’t be able to shut his mind off long enough to sleep.

  He was right.

  ‡

  “I hope you will be comfortable in this chamber, my lady,” Katheryn said. “I have sent for hot water because I am sure you would like to bathe before retiring. It has been a trying day for you.”

  Brighton stood just inside the doorway, still wrapped up in her smelly cloak and coarse woolen clothing. She was exhausted and not feeling particularly well after fainting earlier. All she really wanted to do was sleep but it was difficult to refute Lady Katheryn, who had been quite kind to her. The woman was grimly determined to be of service and Brighton didn’t want to insult her. But, given the day she’d had, her manners weren’t at their best. Her patience was brittle.

  “I-it has, my lady,” she said. “To be truthful, all I want is a little food and sleep. That is all I require.”

  “Nonsense.” Evelyn came in behind her, her arms full of garments. She went over to the bed, throwing everything down. “A bath will do you a world of good. Kate, this is everything I believe will fit her.”

  Katheryn went over to the bed to inspect what had been brought. “I recognize these,” she said as she pulled forth a dark green wool. “This was yours, was it not?”

  Evelyn nodded. “I could wear these before I gave birth,” she said. “But since my last child, they no longer fit around my breasts or even around my hips. Although Mother has suggested I simply alter them, Hector has had new clothing made for me so I really do not need them. Our guest is welcome to whatever will fit.”

  It was extremely generous and Katheryn held up the dark green surcoat, looking at it in the light of the blazing hearth. Her gaze moved between the garment and Brighton, still standing near the door, watching everything around her with suspicion and some fear. The woman appeared grossly uncomfortable.

  “As I explained, Lady Brighton, my brother will be taking you to Castle Questing in the morning,” Katheryn said, trying to make their guest feel more relaxed. “You will need clothing to travel with and I believe these garments will fit you. Mayhap after you have bathed, you would like to try these on?”

  Brighton looked at the clothing on the bed and in Katheryn’s grip. Her composure, her patience, was slipping further and further.

  “P-please,” she sighed. “I… I simply wish to be left alone. A little food and sleep is all I require. I do not wish to try on clothing and I am completely opposed to leaving for anywhere other than Coldingham Priory. Will you please… please go away and leave me alone?”

  She wasn’t being snappish, rather begging to be left in peace. She sounded on the verge of tears. Katheryn placed the garment onto the bed again.

  “I realize this has been a difficult day, my lady,” she said patiently. “You must understand we are only trying to help you.”

  Brighton sighed sharply. “I-I do realize that,” she said, “and I am grateful. But I do not need your assistance. I can do for myself. Please, leave me in peace.”

  Katheryn wasn’t going to push the woman, who was clearly still very upset about her situation. It was with great reluctance that she tugged on Evelyn’s sleeve, motioning the woman out of the chamber.

  “As you wish,” she said, backing away towards the door. She gestured towards the table near the bed. “There is a comb and soap on the table if you wish to use it. Hot water will still be sent up… are you sure you do not wish for any help bathing?”

  Brighton shook her head firmly, her brown hair wagging in her face. “I-I do not require your help,” she said. “Please do not think me rude, but I simply need to be left alone.”

  Katheryn was somewhat dejected but tried not to show it. She felt a good deal of pity for their distressed guest. Still, she obeyed her request as a good hostess would.

  “As you wish,” she said quietly, hand on the door latch as she began to pull the door shut behind her. “But if you should change your mind, you know where my chamber is. Please do not hesitate to send for me.”

  Brighton simply nodded, watching as the woman left the chamber and shut the door. She remained unmoving, standing there, for several moments afterward as if waiting for Lady Katheryn and her sister to come charging back in. They seemed to want to hover around her. But the seconds ticked by and the door remained shut. Brighton finally let out a massive sigh and tossed off the smelly cloak. Immediately, she ran for the window.

  Freedom!

  Her first thought was that of escape, which was foolish considering she had seen the layout of Berwick Castle when she’d been brought in and escape was more than likely impossible. That was only confirmed when she stuck her head from the lancet window, looking over the monstrous castle as men patrolled their stations with torches and dogs barked from the walls. She’d never seen anything so enormous and the view from her window showed the river with the moonlight reflecting from it. But it also showed the castle walls which were very tall, indeed. There would be no way to escape over those even if she was able to lower herself from the window.

  There was no way out, indeed.

  Dejected, Brighton came away from the window. Perhaps it would have been better had the Scots taken her. At least she might have had the chance to escape their encampment. She was certain they wouldn’t have taken her anywhere like this massive stone prison. For the first time since being taken from Coldingham earlier that day, she truly began to feel like she was a prisoner, now trapped by people who had supposedly helped her.

  Reality began to sink in. Tears came to her eyes as she sank back against the wall, sliding down until she ended up on the floor on her buttocks. This had been the worst day of her life; not only losing her freedom, but losing
Sister Acha as well. The old woman who had raised her from infancy, who had been both mother and father to her, was gone, killed by the English. She knew the Scots hadn’t killed the woman because she had been alive until the English attacked; at least, that’s what she presumed. The big knight who had taken her back to Berwick had told her he’d found the woman alive on the road but she soon passed away.

  But not before telling the knight a fantastic story.

  Sweet Mary, how she hated the English right now! They were lying to her, keeping her captive, trying to cram some foolish story down her throat and force her to accept it and digest it. Well, she wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to accept their lies and the captivity they’d imposed on her. Perhaps she couldn’t jump from the window or even escape the walls of her prison. But if what Lady Katheryn said was true and the English planned to move her tomorrow, then she’d be out of the walls and at least have a fighting chance to escape.

  She wanted to go home.

  A knock on the chamber door startled her from her mutinous thoughts. She didn’t answer and, a few moments later, the knock came again. Cautiously and angrily, she stood up.

  “W-who is it?” she barked.

  “Water, m’lady,” a timid servant said as she cracked open the door to peer inside the room. “I’ve brought ye a bath.”

  Brighton simply stood there as the door opened wider and the small female servant slipped in, followed by two men bearing a copper tub between them. Behind those men came several more servants bearing large buckets of steaming water, pouring them into the copper tub once it was set on the floor near the hearth. The female servant who had led the water brigade into the chamber had linens in her arms, towels, and she set them down on the bed.

  Brighton stood in tense silence as buckets of water splashed into the tub, eyeing the English servants with hatred. She wanted to tell them all how she loathed them, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t even know why she did, but she did. When the tub was finally filled and the male servants vanished, the female servant remained. But a sharp word from Brighton sent the woman scurrying out. Before Brighton shut the door, she saw Lady Katheryn standing down the corridor, perhaps to see if the visitor had changed her mind about needing her. Brighton simply shut the door in her face.