Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Ruddy-cheeked, Lance sighed
heavily and turned away. "I did not mean it the way it sounded,
Summer," he said, his voice taut with emotion. "It's just that...
Good God, we spent hours searching for you last night, looking to all of the
usual places. We stayed clear of the knight's camp simply because we knew you
would not venture into the heart of such an establishment. And then, when you
finally decided to return from your wanderings, you went directly to bed
without a word as to where you had been. It was frustrating to say the least."
"And frightening," Ian
put in, his tone even and relaxed. Where Lance could splinter the walls with
his shouting, Ian, like Stephan, scarcely raised his voice. "We were
worried for you, love. We'd been searching for hours when next we realized, one
of the sentry's informed us that you had returned under de Moray's escort.
Since you went directly to bed and refused to speak with us, we spent the
entire night tossing and turning, wondering what had happened. Can you see our
point, Summer?"
Her anger somewhat cooling with
her middle brother's manner, she was nonetheless hurt by Lance's implication.
"Nothing happened, Ian. Sir B-Bose was a perfect gentleman."
Stephan eyed his sister a moment,
carefully scrutinizing her defensive, emotional demeanor. "Let's start at
the beginning, sweetheart. After you ran away from Genisa, where did you
go?"
Summer shrugged, tearing her
hostile gaze away from Lance and moving toward the long, latticed windows
overlooking the eastern wall. "I wandered until I came to rest under
Grandfather's oak. Sir B-Bose found me there and we had a wonderful
conversation."
"Then he knows about your
speech?"
She cast her brother an impatient
look, as if he were a simpleton. "Of course he knows. And he doesn't care.
His mother was stricken with the same affliction and he is perfectly
comfortable with the fact."
Ian and Lance glanced to Stephan,
the men exchanging various degrees of surprise. After a lengthy pause involving
deeper deliberations and speculation, Stephan turned away from his mildly-astonished
brothers to refocus on his sister. Stroking his chin in a thoughtful gesture,
he labored to formulate a careful reply.
"I see he told you something
of himself then," he said, watching her expression closely. "Did you
learn much about him?"
She sighed, her slender fingers
toying with the wooden lattice as she gazed over the compound. "He spoke
of his mother. We did not speak of much, truly."
Listening to her explanation,
Stephan’s fears were somewhat allayed but not his fury. He had specifically
asked de Moray to stay away from his sister; obviously, the man was unwilling
to obey his request. Before the situation grew out of hand, it was becoming
apparent that drastic measures would have to be taken to cleave any further
contact.
Drawing a deep breath for
strength and courage, he moved toward his sister. "Summer, in spite of
your pleasant contact with de Moray, I believe it best that you stay away from
him. I'll return the pet and collect your favor and…."
She whirled on her brother, her
calm deportment vanished as her eyes widened with immediate outrage.
"You'll do no such thing. I f-forbid you to control my life in such a
manner."
Stephan sighed, struggling to
keep his demeanor composed and caring. "I am not attempting to control
you, sweetheart, merely protect you. You must trust that I know best in such
matters."
"No!" she practically
shouted. "You are not my f-father, Stephan du Bonne. If I want to bestow
Sir B-Bose with a favor, then it is my decision and not yours."
Stephan's jaw ticked faintly as
his composure slipped a notch. "Father will agree with me and well you
know it. Summer, you must trust me in these matters. I know far more than you
when it comes to the trials of courtship."
"Who said anything about
courtship?" Summer demanded. "I gave the man a k-kerchief, not a
wedding promise!"
"Listen to him,
Summer," Ian said quietly. "He's only thinking of your best
interests, love. We all are."
Summer looked to her brothers.
The flush mottling her cheeks deepened and her pretty jaw ticked wildly with
emotion.
Damn them!
They were always trying to run her life, forcing her
to their demanding will in every matter large or small. And as an obedient
sister, she obeyed them implicitly.
But not this time. She was
determined to do as she pleased, if only this once. She liked Bose; he was kind
and noble and chivalrous and she could hardly understand her brothers'
collective resistance to her interest. As she continued to gaze into their
stern, if not somewhat compassionate expressions, her anger inevitably gained
speed.
"I thought you would be
pleased that I f-found someone to tolerate my difference," she said
quietly, with thinly-reined fury. "Instead, you seek to isolate me from
him as well. Will this never stop, Stephan? Will I not be adequate for any
man?"
Stephan's expression softened
dramatically. "God's Blood, Summer, it's not your inadequacy at all. You
are perfect, sweetheart, truly. It's Bose we are concerned with."
"W-Why?"
Stephan stared at her a moment,
noting her volatile emotions, feeling her shame and curiosity and anguish. Of
course she resented his interference; he'd never given her a valid motive
behind his brotherly concerns. Mayhap if she were to discover the basis for his
objection, she would come to realize his earnest stance.
"Do you remember yesterday
when I mentioned that Bose de Moray possessed less than a desirable
reputation?" he asked.
Summer nodded firmly. "Aye.
And I told you that I would not believe the slander, whatever it was."
Stephan maintained his gaze a
moment before lowering his eyes, scratching absently at his chin. "Allow
me to inform you what has been said before you make any rapid decisions. When
de Moray came to the tournament circuit four years ago, it was rumored that he
left his post as Captain of the King's Guard under mysterious
circumstances," raising his somewhat hesitant gaze, he fixed his sister in
the eye. "It was said that he killed his wife in order to gain her wealth.
I am unaware of the circumstances, for the speculation is purely rumor. But as hearsay
would have it, it is said that his wife was well and whole one day and dead the
next. Immediately after her death, de Moray resigned his post and fled London.
He hasn't returned since."
Summer's anger and outrage
transformed into shock of the deepest level as Stephan's words permeated the
fragile membrane of her soul. Mouth open with disbelief and horror, her head
slowly wagged back and forth. "I... it's not true, Stephan. I cannot b-believe
it would be true."
Gently, Stephan put his hand on
her shoulder. "The rumors are said to come from a most reliable
source."
Brow furrowed with incredulity,
Summer's pain and shock was evident. "Who, for God's sake?"
"His wife's mother."
Summer simply stared at him.
Stephan gave her a brief, sympathetic smile before removing his comforting
hand. Wisely concluding that it was time to leave their sister to her own
thoughts, the three brothers moved for the chamber door. Although stunned,
Summer still considered the subject very much open for debate.
"The man I spoke with last
night was not capable of such an act," she said quietly, her voice
strangely tight. "I c-cannot believe you, Stephan. I simply cannot."
The three brothers paused by the
door, the two younger men looking to their older, wiser brother to refute her
statement.
"Even if you do not believe
me, I ask that you trust me all the same," he said quietly. "Have I
ever lied to you, Summer? Have I ever done you wrong?"
Golden eyes met those of soothing
green, the pain from her gaze cutting deep into his heart. Bose de Moray had
been the only man she had ever truly known outside of her immediately family, a
dashingly dark knight who had stolen her naive little heart with his gallant
actions and gentle pursuit. A heart Stephan was now smashing to pieces.
"Nay, Stephan," her
reply was soft. "You've never done me wrong."
Stephan opened the door, ushering
his brothers through. Now the crisis was past, it was time to focus on the
approaching joust and they were eager to move from a most depressing
confrontation with their young sister. Just as Stephan moved to close the door,
Summer's quiet voice brought him to a halt.
"I'll tell him,
Stephan," her whispered words were barely audible. "If I am to take
b-back my favor, then I would do it myself."
Although against the idea,
Stephan nonetheless nodded with hesitant agreement. "After I have donned
my armor, we shall seek him. Acceptable?"
Summer could hardly manage the
energy to acknowledge him.
"I shall speak with him
alone," she murmured, gazing toward the latticed window and listening to
the faint sounds in the bailey. "Do you understand?"
Again, Stephan nodded, knowing
how hard this was for her. “As you say, sweetheart," he replied softly,
closing the door as he spoke. "Genisa will be here in a few minutes to
help you dress."
The door latched shut with a
faint click, leaving Summer alone with her tumultuous thoughts. Although her
first instinct was to refute her brother's statements, she was forced to admit
that, indeed, Stephan had never lied to her. He had always protected.
Until yesterday, she had been
quite content to remain protected. But that was before the appearance of Bose
de Moray; suddenly, Summer sensed there was more to life than her isolated
existence at Chaldon. The massive knight with the onyx-black eyes and lopsided
grin had affected her.
Sighing heavily, Summer unlatched
the lattice and gazed onto the bright countryside below, catching sight in the
distance of Bose's black and white tent. Leaning against the cold stone, she
closed her eyes to the soft sea breeze caressing her face. Aye, she would speak
with him, requesting her favor returned unless he had an answer to her
brother's disturbing suggestion.
Do not let the rumors be true.
For once, let Stephan be wrong
***
"Tell me more, Bose. After
you found Antony with Lady Summer, what happened?"
Standing with his arms aloft as
his Squire of the Body went about securing his breastplate, Bose refused to
look at an overly eager Tate.
"Nothing happened. We
exchanged a few pleasantries and I escorted her back to the keep. God's Beard,
Tate, I already told you this. I told you last night and this morning, too.
There is nothing new to add."
"But you gave her Antony,
for God's sake. If there was hardly more than a few pleasantries exchanged,
what on earth possessed you to gift her with your beloved ferret?"
Bose continued to watch the lad
as he straightened the mail beneath the plate protection. "As I told you,
she had found Antony wandering loose among the tents. When I happed upon them,
they were getting along quite famously and it was obvious that he preferred her
gentle touch to mine. I can hardly blame the beast."
Tate pondered his answer a
moment, thinking the calm reply to be unemotional. "What is she like,
then?" he persisted. "If you delivered her your most prize pet,
surely she is entirely wonderful."
Bose let out a slow, weary sigh
as Tate fidgeted like a giddy young boy. "She is. A delightful, wonderful
woman."
In the corner, already dressed
for the approaching joust, Morgan shook his head in a patient gesture.
"You already told him that. For the love of God, Bose, tell him more
before he bursts a vein."
Tate grinned at the older knight,
knowing the man wanted to know the gory details of the encounter just as badly
as he did but was far too dignified to say it. Instead, he would allow Tate to
make a fool of himself.
"There's nothing more to
tell, I say," Bose insisted as his squire carefully secured the final
latch. "We met, we spoke, and I took her home. End of story."
"Except for the favor,"
Morgan reminded him, chuckling softly when Bose cast him a menacing glare.
"Ah, yes, the favor,"
Tate delved into the delightful little detail. "Tell me how you acquired
it. Did you demand it from her? Beg? Plead? How did she give it?"
"With her hand," Bose
supplied drolly.
"That's not what he
meant," Morgan put in.
"I know what he meant,"
Bose snapped in his first show of irritation, lowering his arms as his squire
finished the smaller details of armoring. "There is nothing more to tell,
truthfully. I asked, and she was gracious enough to comply. As I said before,
she is a beautiful woman with a beautiful personality. And if you behave
yourself, I just might introduce you someday."
Tate snorted, crossing his arms
and stepping aside as the young squire handled the massive broadsword.
"God's Blood, she is so beautiful I'd surely turn into a blathering idiot
at the sight of her. How did you speak with her and not collapse
completely?"