The Bride Gift

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-437-1

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Acknowledgements

A special thanks to all those strong women who have been an example and a constant support, especially my mother and my sister, Kate. To my two great daughters, Olivia and Caitlin, for being so patient with the long hours.
And to Chris Kennedy who has walked every step of this journey with me. A big shout out to Kim Handysides for being the world’s best critique partner.

And always, to my husband, Brent, who is so much more than a knight-in-shining-armor.

I would also like to mention the wonderfully supportive group of writers at Soul Mate Publishing and my editor, Char Chaffin. You are awesome, all of you.

Chapter 1

Spring, 1153, North of England

Guy of Helston hated heights.

Dangling sixty feet from the ground and hanging on by his fingernails was not what he’d had in mind when he declared at the tender age of eight summers that come what may, he would one day win a title. Mayhap it was his just deserts for foolishly declaring to his brother, Crispin, he would stop at nothing to achieve his ambition.

Guy grabbed the next handhold. It had seemed such a good idea from the ground. Roger had made it sound like the logical course. For certes easier than lengthy explanations yelled at the gatehouse for all within earshot to hear. The earl had led him to the hidden postern gate and they’d slipped undetected through the curtain wall into the inner bailey.

The castle bristled with men at arms. A witch’s cauldron of trouble brewed around their lady. Change crackled in the wind with new rumours circulating faster than flies on a midden heap. The war between King Stephen and Empress Maude ripped through the land and threatened all.

An owl hooted. Roger’s warning.

Guy froze.

A soft tramp of feet signalled the guard. Beneath him, two men at arms passed into view. All it would take was for one of them to glance up. The sentries stopped and changed direction. He counted a heartbeat more and continued his ascent.

Closer he climbed to the open casement. He forced himself to go slowly.
One hand at a time, find the foothold before moving on.
A slip now would mean certain death.

The casement inched nearer. He got his fingers over the edge and hauled his aching muscles onto the window embrasure. He rested with half his body hanging off the edge and his boots still wedged against the rough rock. The rope around his waist jerked.

“
Jesu
.” He glared into the shadows below him. Could he not just have a moment to catch his breath?

He slithered into the dark beyond the embrasure. Then stopped, his senses alert to discovery.

Silence.

He jerked the line. The rope grew taut, and Guy braced his feet against the wall. Roger was many summers past the wall scaling age, but needs must. The rope strained across Guy’s back as Roger climbed.

Roger was a smaller man, but compact and muscular. Guy gritted his teeth, his muscles protesting the extra effort. He didn’t make a sound as he hauled, hand over hand, the rope hissing softly over the edge of the casement. He prayed Roger was right and the lady was not a light sleeper.

A fine tremor shook Guy’s arms.

Roger’s head finally popped over the lip of the embrasure. The earl was breathing hard, perspiration streaming in rivulets down his cheeks. He slipped over the edge and landed beside Guy.

“What did I tell you?” Roger whispered. “She has the place sewn up tighter than a duck’s arse.” He beamed with pride. “That is my Nell.”

Jesu, a woman ruling a keep
. He’d heard some jests, but that was a good one.

Roger crouched beneath the embrasure, catching his breath. Rising to his feet, Guy undid the rope and placed it beneath the casement.

The shutters were open to admit the cool spring night, but it was still dark inside the solar. The warm air smelled of wildflowers, delicate and feminine. He stood out like a pair of dog’s ballocks with his large, sweating body.

Roger rose and waved Guy forward. He inched a foot out in front of him and located the soft edge of a carpet. It would mute their footfalls.

Outside the keep walls, his men were ready. They could stay out there until judgment day, however, unless the drawbridge was lowered and the portcullis raised. The king would have received the news by now and wouldn’t be far behind. Guy prayed his years of loyal service would buy him some clemency. Roger depended on it.

From just the other side of the door, people slept, talked and went about their business of getting ready for the new day.

He scanned the interior. Darker shadows coalesced into the larger shapes of furniture. They were in luck; no servant shared the chamber.

Roger approached the huge bed, which dominated the room from a raised dais.

The draperies were opened, and Guy could just make out the recumbent form on the bed. He stayed near the foot, partially concealed by the bed draperies.

Hair streamed across the pillows in the predawn light. Roger had not exaggerated; it was a fair face. The clear line of her brows rose in a determined arch above the delicate bones of her face. Her mouth was ripe and full and tilted up slightly at the corners, lips made for kissing. In other circumstances, Guy might have paused a moment and availed himself of the opportunity.

Leaning forward, Roger placed a hand over her mouth.

She woke with a start, her eyes flying open and her nostrils flaring over the edge of Roger’s hand. Legs flailed beneath the bed linens as her hand shot forward.

Roger grunted softly when the blow connected with his shoulder. Her other arm arced toward his head, but he was quick enough to catch it. Her chest rose as she sucked in an enormous breath.

Guy tensed, his hand reaching for the sword strapped to his back.

“Nell. Do not scream.” Roger’s whisper was hoarse in the stillness of the room. “Quiet, Nell.”

She located her uncle and stilled.

Roger carefully removed his hand.

“Roger?” Her stare was fixed on the man by her side. “Where, in God’s name, have you been?”

“Hush, Nell,” Roger hissed.

She scrambled into a sitting position, clutching the bedding to her chest. In the moonlight, she appeared too fragile for what awaited her.

“What are you doing here? Why are you sneaking about in the dark? How did you get past the men at the door?”

They were all fair questions; Guy remained still and let Roger make the explanations.

“We climbed.” Roger drew his shoulders back. “We scaled the wall and came in through the casement.”

“Why?”

“I did not want to alert anyone that we were here.”

“But why?” Her forehead creased in a deeper frown. “They are all anxiously awaiting your return. We have worried ourselves to illness.” Anger crept into her voice. “We received the news from court four days ere that you have refused the king’s call to arms. And now I find you climbing the keep walls. Are you mad?”

“Nay, Nell, not mad but banished.”

“King Stephen has banished you?”

Roger hastily motioned her to lower her voice, lest an alarm be raised. “Aye.”

He backed away from the bed looking worn and older than his years. Guy knew this banishment was like an open wound for the other man. “I—”

“You have been banished?” Her whisper grew more demanding. “How did you let that happen?”

Guy honestly didn’t believe Roger had been presented with any other choice. It wasn’t his place to say, however, so he kept silent.

“Now, Nell.” Roger attempted to take command of the situation.

“You knew the king was wroth with you. Why did you refuse his call to arms now?”

“It must end. You know that as well as I.” Roger’s whisper was rough with impatience. “‘Tis the same year after year, Nell. The king wants yet more men and yet more arms for this infernal war with Maude, and we bear the cost.”

She glared up at Roger, the line of her jaw firm and uncompromising. “Could you not dissemble?”

Roger wasn’t going to escape that lightly. His niece was a feisty one.

“Could you not feint?” She made a decisive slashing motion with her free hand. “Now you are banished. How could anything be worth that?”

“There is only so much a man can take.” Roger’s chin jutted out. As did his niece’s. They stayed locked in their silent battle for a long moment.

Her shoulders slumped suddenly, as if the weight became too much to bear. All the fight seemed to rush out of her on a sigh. “I have been so worried about you. I thought you might be dead.”

Her voice quavered on that last sentence, and Guy’s guts tightened.
Sweet
Jesu
.
Please, no tears
. He couldn’t abide the tears.

“There now, sweet Nell.” Roger lowered himself onto the bed beside her. He gathered the girl into his arms. “Whist now, Nell. All is not lost and I came as fast as I could. Hush now, sweeting.”

Guy shifted his weight, uncomfortable at witnessing such a private scene.

Her eyes flew to him. Her mouth dropped open. “Who are you?”

Guy would as lief be strung up by his toes than answer her question. This was Roger’s idea, not his.

“Er, Nell.” Roger drew back from her gently. “May I present Guy of Helston?”

“The ‘Scourge of Faringdon?’”

Guy clenched his fists. The name was like a curse he never escaped.