Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was two days since their return from Hadden and Kellington was in the midst of organizing the labor gangs for the harvest that would begin on the morrow. Kellington clutched her father’s arm as they made their way back into the keep, chattering happily but oblivious to her father’s nervous gaze about his fortress. Although he was home, it was no longer his home to call and he was understandably uneasy. Once they reached the keep, Kellington took him straight away into the solar.

  Matilda had brought fresh bread and wine. It sat on the corner of his old desk. Edgy, weary and somewhat confused, Keats was still looking around as if waiting for de Velt and his men to jump from the walls when Kellington encouraged him to the food. He looked startled by her suggestion but dutifully went to the tray. In truth, he was famished. He took the bread but remained standing.

  He chewed his bread as his daughter rambled on about the coinage they would pull from tomorrow’s harvest. Her behavior was very normal considering what had gone on the past several weeks. In fact, it was almost too normal.

  “Kelli,” he interrupted her prattle. “What is going on here? Why have I been brought back?”

  The smile faded from her face somewhat, momentarily confused by his question. “You… you have been brought back because I asked for you to be brought back,” she said. “Lord de Velt was gracious enough to grant my request.”

  Her father stopped chewing, his golden-brown eyes focused on his only child. “Where is he?”

  Kellington shrugged and sat down behind the desk. “To be truthful, I do not know. I have not seen much of him over the past day or so.”

  His gaze bore into her. “How has he treated you? Has he… harmed you?”

  “He has not harmed me in the least. He has been a generous host.”

  He swallowed the bite in his mouth and went to stand in front of her. “He is not a host,” he snapped softly. “He is a murderer. What has happened since you and I last saw one another? When I left, my army was being spitted and posted in the bailey. The screams of live men being gored will haunt me to my grave. Where are they now? What has happened here in the past three weeks?”

  The pleasant expression was gone from her face completely. “Father,” she murmured softly. “Isn’t it enough that we are together again? Can you not be grateful for small blessings?”

  “Nay,” he said, almost angry at her seemingly complacent attitude. “You will tell me what has happened since the day I left here. And no lies. Where is my army? What has de Velt done to my fortress?”

  She sighed heavily, knowing there was no way around this. She had only hoped it would not be this soon, but she supposed there was no reason to delay. Her father was exhausted and edgy. She did not want Jax to see the man like this lest they both snap.

  “Your army has been buried,” she said softly.

  His eyebrows flew up. “Buried?” he repeated, incredulous. “Who buried them?”

  “De Velt.”

  He looked as if she had lost her mind. “What…? By God’s Holy Rood, Kelli, such things are unheard of when it comes to de Velt. By all accounts, there should be a host of rotting corpses still in the bailey with birds feeding off the flesh. Why in God’s name did he bury them?”

  She looked at him, almost ashamed with her answer. “Because I asked him to.”

  He father stared at her as if waiting for more of an explanation. When nothing more was forthcoming, he lifted his eyebrows. “That is it? Because you asked him to?”

  She nodded. “He spared the women, too. Even Lavaine when she tried to take a dagger to him.”

  Keats was at a loss. Stunned, he moved to the nearest chair, lowering his weary body as he struggled to digest the information. “But why would he do this?” he asked, almost to himself. He looked at his daughter. “There must be more to it.”

  She didn’t want to tell him all of it, not now while he was unbalanced. “I simply asked him if he would bury our army. He complied. Why are you so surprised?”

  Keats’ slapped his hand on his thigh. “Because Jax de Velt knows no mercy. He’s been known to leave conquered armies posted for months as a warning to all who would oppose him. There must be more to it than…, he suddenly looked stricken, his eyes widening at her. “Dear God, no. Please tell me that he has not taken… God, tell me that he’s not made you his whore.”

  She flushed a dull red. “He has not,” she insisted strongly. “I swear to you that he has not. He has been most kind to me.”

  Keats shot to his feet. “That is just not possible,” he fired at her. “Jax de Velt is not a kind man, Kelli. What has he done to make you say such things?”

  “I’ve not done anything.”

  Jax was standing at the door to the solar. He was clad in mail but without his pieces of plate armor; it was a dressed-down version of his battle mode. He eyed Keats as he came into the room, his expression alone asserting dominance over the man. He could see that Keats was unbalanced and, knowing it would please Kellington, he struggled for more of an explanation to appease the father.

  “Your daughter has been instrumental in making sure Pelinom functions as it should,” he said. “I owe her much. As a show of gratitude, I removed the bodies of your army from the bailey and buried them at her request. You are here for the same reason.”

  Keats was on his feet, staring up at the man who was literally more than twice his size. “I am grateful that you have shown my daughter such kindness, my lord,” he said. “She looks healthy and whole. For that reason alone, I owe you much. I am your servant to command if it will continue to keep my daughter safe.”

  It was a surprising answer. Jax didn’t believe him in the least but he refrained from commenting. In fact, as he looked at the man, he realized he wanted something from him very badly. It was his way to demand things, not ask for them, so he was somewhat at a loss as to how to ask Keats for Kellington’s hand. That’s all he could think of when he saw the man ride in earlier. From the looks of him, he probably would not take the question well this day. When the man was rested and fed would be a better opportunity.

  “Although you have been returned to Pelinom, understand that you are still my prisoner,” Jax did not want there to be any question of the situation at the moment. “As I have commanded your daughter, I shall command you also. You may not leave the keep for any reason without escort. Your chamber on the third floor still belongs to you. I would suggest you retreat there until I send for you.”

  Keats was not surprised by the directive. He had expected worse. But it was clear that de Velt was very much in charge of Pelinom in spite of his odd behavior. Without another word, Keats quit the solar and made his way up to his former chamber. When he was well out of earshot, Kellington looked at Jax.

  “You were not very kind to him,” she said.

  He met her gaze. “He is my prisoner.”

  “He is my father.”

  “You are my prisoner, too.”

  She looked at him as if she’d been struck. Of course she was but he hadn’t been so obvious about it in days. Averting her gaze, she sat heavily on her stool and kept her eyes down to the parchment in front of her.

  Jax watched her, the way the light glistened off her golden hair. He’d hardly seen her since they had returned from Hadden because he’d had other things to keep him occupied. The siege of White Crag would begin tomorrow as they began to move men and material out of Pelinom and onto the road south. He had another one hundred men riding from Foulburn, including two siege engines. They would all join up on the road just north of White Craig in two days. Jax could not delay from Pelinom; timing of this was critical.

  But he found that he did not want to leave Kellington. The more he planned for White Crag, the more she loomed in his thoughts. The frustration and confusion over it was giving him a headache, something that had manifested itself into even harsher commands and a darker mood. At the moment, his men were afraid to be around him. So he excused himself when he saw Keats arrive. Now he had chased Keats out
for a reason.

  “You are a prisoner for your own protection,” he said quietly.

  She did not look up. “My own protection? Why?”

  He came to the desk, lingering by the edge of it. “Because I cannot take a chance that some other knight will try to steal you. Therefore, I must place you under my protection.”

  She looked up, then. The dual-colored eyes gazed down at her with a steady expression. Warm, even.

  “Where have you been the past few days?” she asked softly. “I’ve hardly seen you.”

  He drew in a long, weary breath. There was a sturdy oak chair underneath one of the lancet windows; he went to it and sat heavily. He removed his gauntlets as he spoke.

  “I’ve been with my men,” he said, setting the gloves aside. “How are we set for the harvest?”

  He was changing the subject and she knew it, but she dutifully looked to the parchment in front of her. “Well enough,” she said. “I expect our workers to begin arriving well before dawn tomorrow. I have a total of sixty-two workers; with that many, we can complete this in three days.”

  “And then what?”

  She looked at him, then. “We take the produce to market at Berwick, which brings about another issue.”

  “What issue is that?”

  “I will need wagons to transport the produce and men to drive them. I know you have provision wagons; I’ve seen them. We will need to use them.”

  He did not look pleased. “Surely you have your own wagons for this?”

  “They were in the out barns and you burned them during the siege.”

  That gave him a moment of thought. He finally lifted his eyebrows. “Perhaps those who come here tomorrow to harvest will have wagons you may use, for you cannot use mine.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I need them.”

  “What for?”

  His two-colored gaze lingered on her. “Because my army and I are moving out at dawn.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. She just stared at him. “You are leaving?”

  “Aye.”

  “For how long?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Am I allowed to ask where you are going?”

  “No.”

  She lowered her gaze and looked back to her parchment, pretending to busy herself. But she was only fidgeting. Jax watched her beautiful hands moving about, his gaze moving to the shape of her magnificent face and the slender slope of her neck. She had her hair back this day, secured in a thick bun at the nape of her neck. He loved to look at her neck. The gown she wore had a very wide neckline, scooped low on her bosom and extending out to the edge of her shoulders. There was a good deal of luscious flesh exposed. The more he gazed at her, the more he realized that he already missed her.

  Rising, he made his way over to her. He stood next to her, watching her lowered head as she doodled with her quill. Very slowly, and with a great deal of reverence, he bent over and slanted his lips over the tender flesh of her shoulder.

  Kellington gasped as he suckled her skin, his enormous arms suddenly wrapping around her and pulling her fiercely against him. From a warm spark to a flash fire, Jax’s mouth moved across her shoulder and up her neck, finally descending on her sweet lips in a blaze of passion. Kellington responded readily, throwing her arms around his neck as he lifted her high off the ground, holding her so tightly that he was in danger of crushing her.

  Until this moment, his kisses had been lusty and forceful. But this kiss was different; there was something deeper to it, more potent, as if he was attempting to convey to her all he could not say in words. His tongue licked her lips and she opened her mouth to him, allowing him to taste deeply of her. Jax feasted, gorged himself, and still he wanted more. He knew, as he lived and breathed, that he would never have enough of her. She set him on fire, humbled him, brought him to his knees and built him up at the same time so that he felt more powerful than anything on the earth. He wanted her so badly that he could feel it to his bones.

  His mouth left her lips, once again devouring the flesh of her neck. Kellington clung to him, gasping for air.

  “Jax,” she murmured into his long, dark hair. “Must you go?”

  “Aye,” his words were muffled against her skin.

  “You are going to war again, are you not?”

  His pace slowed but didn’t stop completely. “Does it matter?”

  It did. Her passion was dampened thinking of him going into battle again, of the men he would kill and the people he would conquer. It was further doused when she thought of him injured, fighting for his life with those who were intent on killing him. It was an odd paradox. As his hungry mouth moved to the swell of her breasts she wound her fingers into his hair and held him fast against her.

  “I do not want you to go, my pet,” she whispered.

  He heard her. My pet. His kisses against her breasts slowed and he gradually looked up, his great dual-colored eyes riveted to her face.

  “I must go,” he replied quietly.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she struggled for her composure. “But you go to do to another castle what you have done to Pelinom,” a finger came up, delicately tracing his lower lip. “You go to murder people. Women, children. How can I love a man who kills the weak and helpless? How can you behave so tenderly and sweetly with me, yet walk out this door and kill a man who was only defending what belongs to him? I do not understand how you can do this.”

  She blinked and her tears splattered onto his cheek. For the first time in his life, Jax suddenly felt a twinge of guilt at what he did. The tears on her face caused him to feel such confusion as he had never known. When she suddenly leaned forward and began tenderly kissing his face, he knew he was a dead man. He couldn’t have pulled away from her if he tried.

  “Kelli,” he muttered, his eyes closing as her sweet kisses rained over his chin. “I told you that I have always been an ambitious man. I will not give up that ambition, even for you.”

  Her kisses grew more forceful. “I am not asking you to. But I am asking you to at least behave civilly. I know you are capable of this. I have seen it in you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She abruptly stopped and looked him in the eye. “It means that you will not murder any women or children,” her hands were on his face, touching him with gentleness he had never before experienced. “Men in battle are different, I suppose. They are trained for war and death is a part of that. But the women and children… they are innocent, Jax. You must promise me that you will not kill any of them.”

  He gazed back at her, feeling her hands on him, so torn that he could hardly comprehend the turmoil in his mind.

  “You do not understand,” he muttered.

  “I understand that you have no reason to kill women or children.” When he tried to pull away from her, she held him fast and made him look her in the eye. “Tell me what your logic is in doing this horrible deed and I will try to understand. I am willing to listen.”

  He was stiffening. “I do not have to explain myself to you.”

  “If you want me to marry you, then you most certainly do. I will not marry a murderer, Jax. I told you that once. I meant it.”

  His arms were around her still; he let her go. But Kellington kept a firm grip around his neck and held fast, even as he dropped his arms completely. He jaw was ticking furiously and he was trying to look away from her, but she would have none of it.

  “Tell me why you do such a horrible thing.”

  “Because they are threats,” he snapped softly, trying not to look at her but being sucked in by those magnificent eyes. “Every living creature is a threat. To eliminate the threat is to ensure victory.”

  She could see that he was unsettled. She tightened her arms, laying her forehead against his cheek. “What can women possibly do against you?” she asked softly. “And children; what threat can they possibly be? For God’s sake, throw them in the vault or take them somewhere far away and releas
e them, but do not kill them. It is not necessary. Wherever you are going and for whatever you are going to do, please keep that in mind. Please show mercy, my pet. Someday you may require it yourself.”

  She was rubbing her forehead against his scratchy cheek, finally coming up to kiss him again. Jax closed his eyes against her tender onslaught, his arms finally making their way back around her. The more she kissed him, the more entrenched he became until it was he who was taking the offensive, smothering her with his hot mouth, kissing her until she could not breathe.

  He had backed them into a corner. Kellington’s back was against the wall as Jax feasted on the swell of her breasts. He remembered those breasts from when they had first met, when he had demanded she remove all of her clothing for him in the dank of Pelinom’s vault. He remembered lusting after her then, but it was nothing compared to now. There was so much more involved in what he felt for her that simple hunger. She was very quickly embedding herself in his heart as well as his mind, and he had no way of knowing how to slow the progression.

  He pulled her gown off of one shoulder, lapping at the soft skin on her upper arm. Pulling it further, he managed to completely expose one breast. Gently, he suckled a tender nipple, listening to Kellington’s gasps of surprise and pleasure. He suckled until he was completely engorged. Cupping her breast with an enormous hand and covering it completely, his lips slanted over her mouth once again and his tongue invaded her honeyed recesses.

  “I would have you now,” he spoke into her mouth.

  Kellington realized what he meant and her eyes widened. “But… we’re not…”

  “Married?” he punctuated the word by squeezing her breast gently. “We will be. With God as my witness, we will be before this month is over no matter what you father says. You belong to me, Kelli. I intend to have you. All of you.”

  He went back to her breast, nursing hungrily. Kellington was having difficulty thinking as his tongue did wicked things to her.

  “Jax,” she tried to pull his head up but he would not budge. “Jax, my pet, please listen to me.”