A Lady's Charade (Medieval Romance Novel) (3 page)

Would it change him much? First and foremost he was a knight to the king, a man of valor. He would make sure to do his duty for England first. He would have to make his new wife understand her position. Perhaps he would leave her at South Hearth after he was sure she conceived and then return to Hardwyck with the son she would bare him. The two holdings weren’t so far apart that he couldn’t keep an eye on her and her traitorous tendencies, for weren’t all Scots traitors and women weak?

His mother died when he was young and the subsequent three different women his father married were frail and panic-stricken. Fear filled their eyes when his father entered the room.

Would Lady Chloe be that way?

“Let’s move out!”

Thoughts of marriage were making him churlish. He needed a good fight. Hopefully the exercise of riding would abate some of his frustration at the situation.

Edward laughed. “Aye, and let us hope she is a beauty for your sake and ours. Should you be stuck with an ugly shrew for a wife, your line may die with you.”

Alexander slapped Edward on the back, a loud guffaw escaping him. “Let us ride my friend. I am in need to see sooner than later what this Lady Chloe looks like.”

The men and horses felt Alexander’s need to ride fast and complied without complaint. Although outwardly he was in control leading his men, inwardly his thoughts were in turmoil.

Would it be then, he should die murdered in his bed rather than on the field of battle? Or perhaps the marriage bed
would
be a field of battle. Steamy thoughts passed through his mind. Long silky legs wrapped around his waist. A warm velvet woman to lay with morning, noon and night. Braies now tight in the middle, he was thankful no one could see his desire. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman.

Alexander shook his head. He was the Dragon. A fierce and mighty warrior. His woman would do his bidding or suffer his wrath. If his new wife wanted a war, wanted to battle against him, so be it. He would take on this woman whatever she brought upon him. He would be her lord and master. He would tame her combative spirit. Train her.

Yes, that is what he’d do. He would teach her the ways a wife, his wife, should respond to him. She would obey. She would acquiesce to his demands. No one ever dared to counteract his orders. She would be no different.

Yes, she would do more than just be a dutiful wife. She would be grateful to him.

After all, she should be so lucky he wouldn’t lock her away with the rest of her family.

Chapter Three

South Hearth Castle, English and Scottish Border

November, 1415

A full night’s sleep and a cup of her mother’s specially made herbal tea did nothing to heal Chloe’s aching head and heart.

She’d refused to break her fast with her father. Still overwhelmed and even angry that he’d decided her fate without so much as asking her how she felt.

“
Mademoiselle.
” Nicola entered the room and crossed quickly to where Chloe sat in a window seat, gazing out at the horizon, an untouched embroidery hoop in her lap. “Would you care to take a walk in the gardens? Your
maman
, is requesting your presence.”

“There are no flowers in bloom, Nicola.”

“This is true, but your mother has a pretty pond with fish swimming in it. And a lovely maze made of shrubs.”

“Hmm…” Perhaps the exercise and fresh air would do her some good. She couldn’t sit inside and mourn the passing of her youth and freedom forever. Might as well enjoy what little time she had left before she was shackled to Angus. A date had still not been set, and she sincerely hoped it was because her parents were looking for another match.

“Let us put on your mantel, so you don’t catch a chill,
d’accord
?”

Chloe nodded, and stood, her embroidery slipping from her lap, forgotten.

When she reached the gardens her mother was standing by the pond, which housed a marble statue of a stag in its center. Chloe felt a little like the stag. Hunted.

“Chloe. Come look.”

She did her mother’s bidding and stared into the pond. The fish looked rather ugly, browns, blues, greens. Nothing too exotic or exciting. She looked away, wishing she were back in France.

“Mother, must I marry?”

Her mother didn’t ask what she was referring, her mind probably consumed with the idea as well. “
Oui
.”

“If your brother was here, you would not have to do this.” Her mother’s voice held no emotion. No blame, no cynicism, or sadness. Nothing.

Chloe couldn’t take it anymore. “Am I always to be blamed for his death?”

“No one blames you, my child, ‘tis simply a fact.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she gritted her teeth against letting her emotions take away her control. “If father wasn’t always so bent on conquering clans and the English, Jon would still be alive. It’s his fault, not mine! The men never would have attacked if father hadn’t provoked them! Jon was trying to save me, he was a hero! That man—” Chloe pointed toward the keep. “He is the only one to blame for
my
brother’s death!”

The baroness gasped, and struck Chloe on the cheek. Chloe hadn’t seen the blow coming, felt the sting of it all the way to her toes.

“Do not ever speak of your father and your brother in the same breath again.”

Her mother pivoted on her heel and headed inside the keep. Chloe stayed put, unable to move. When had her mother turned against her?

****

Alexander sat atop his horse, Hero, just beyond the village walls of South Hearth. Concealed by the dense forest for the moment, a field separated him from the gates and entry to the holding. Surprise filled him—the place was not as heavily armed as he would have suspected. The walls that surrounded the village had a few archers walking their paths on top, but that appeared to be it. Either Fergusson was a bloody fool or a damn site too cocky.

In any case, Alexander’s mission just became a whole lot easier.

Alexander surveyed his surroundings. The chilly evening air blew around him. The smell of peat fires burning reached inside of his chilled nostrils. The archers would see them coming once they marched onto the field. It would be best for him to take only a few men, and demand they open the gates.

Another gust of wind blew. Armor definitely wasn’t warm attire when the chilly air hit it, cooling it to the touch. He shifted on Hero, and thanked God there had not been any snow yet.

Alexander and his men traveled for nigh on two weeks to get to South Hearth. Once they’d crossed the pond from France, they’d ridden slowly and stealthily through the nights and slept most of the days, so they wouldn’t be seen. They didn’t want to take a chance the people of South Hearth would be warned of their impending arrival.

He intended to overtake the village, the keep, the people, and to marry the daughter of Baron Fergusson without a fight. From the looks of the place, there may be only fifty knights inside. However, from what the king said, the baron was a tricky man. Perhaps he would be smart enough to keep his knights well hidden. Alexander didn’t let the idea of men just as stealthy as his own, surrounding him right then and there, flit too long in his mind.

He kept a keen ear for any noise, and signaled to his best lookouts to search the area for any sign of another army. When the lookouts returned they informed Alexander they were alone. A satisfied smile crossed his lips.

The Dragon was back.

Alexander signaled to a few of his men to follow him out onto the field. They carried the Dragon’s crest on one flag as well as a white flag signaling to the archers, friends approached. Shouting could be heard from atop the battlements, but Alexander and his men continued to move forward.

“Guard, open the gate,” Alexander shouted.

“State your name and purpose.”

“It is I, Lord Alexander of Hardwyck. I have come to have words with your master on behalf of his majesty, Henry V, King of England.”

“My master knows no such name or of your arrival.”

The king’s fears of Fergusson turning against the treaty were indeed true. “Surely he knows the name of the King of England, for he occupies an English castle. Go and tell him.”

“I say then you will have to deal with my army, and yet another new master who will not be as forgiving. Should you happen to live, which is doubtful, you will be tried for treason against the king, tortured and then die a horrendous death—your body scattered across the north, south, east and west.”

They chewed on his words a minute and then disappeared.

“Edward, signal the rest of the men to join us. These buffoons do not realize the seriousness of the situation. Perhaps our numbers can force them to open the gates.”

As Alexander sat upon his horse on the grounds in front of the great wall, he assessed the impressive castle. Despite the land having fallen into his father’s hands, he had yet to venture this far north. The castle rose high into the sky beyond the walls. Tall turrets were placed on either end. The long structure in the middle was lit up by torches and candles. It was teaming with life.

Movement caught his attention and Alexander looked up. As he stared at what would soon be his, a covering slid back from an upper window. Out stared what could only be described as a glorious vision.

Dark long hair flowed around her. She was missing the traditional
crispine
and reticulated head-dress that many of the women at the English court wore. He’d seen some Scotswomen in passing and they’d worn a covering too, but not this maiden. Her hair cascaded in waves around her. A chill passed through him, and he had to suppress a shudder. She was a daring woman. What else did she dare to do?

Her creamy white skin glowed in the night. The moonlight from without, and candlelight from within her room, cascaded around her, creating a halo. She looked every bit the delicious angel. Could it be a sin to feel such need to stroke the skin of an angel?

Alexander’s armor suddenly felt too constrictive as his body hardened. His skin began to sizzle as lust coursed through his veins. Perhaps it was from the knowledge this woman
could
be his forever.

Was it possible the raving beauty staring down at him was Lady Chloe Fergusson? It was probably too good to be true, but if it were she, at least one good thing would come out of this. He would have a pretty little wench by his side. And from the looks of her, she was a feisty, sensual woman.

He lifted his face plate to get a better look at the vision before him. His body now on fire, was oblivious to the cool wind which swept into the front of his helmet and down his neck.

He lifted his sword and pointed at the beauty. He wanted to let her know she would be his. He felt possessive now. She would be his and his alone.

“You are mine!” Alexander roared over the walls of the castle.

He could not tell whether she heard his words or not. But he knew she’d seen him, was looking at him, watching him as he watched her. Blood pumped through his veins.

Then she was gone, leaving his body burning with a fever of possession and lust. Alexander felt powerful sitting there, knowing that although the castle was vast and filled with many, he would overthrow it. He would obtain it. He would have the people bow down to him.

He would have her.

****

Fear consumed her.

Hand flattened to her chest, Chloe pressed her back to the cold stone wall. She let the curtain fall from her grasp, and it billowed in the late fall wind. Crisp air blew softly over her skin. And yes, her flesh was raised, but not from the chill—from fright.

She dared look again through the slit.

Warriors, clad in shining metal armor filled the space beyond the castle walls. Trebuchets at the ready. Just as she’d suspected, they’d come back for what was theirs. One knight, mightier than the others took her breath away. She felt possessed by him, and yet all he’d done was point—the light from the moon glinting off the end of his sword and the dragon carved on his shield. The skin on her chest tingled as if the very tip of that blade had touched her, even pierced her, just the tiniest of nicks. She patted frantically at her chest for blood, even knowing that she wouldn’t find any.