Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Breck was coming to enjoy the
smell of her rose fragrance; in spite of her speech impediment, she was a
tremendously beautiful woman. Her comeliness was almost enough to cause him to
overlook her defect, but truthfully not enough of a distraction. Even so, her
soft body and delicious scent was most tantalizing.
"If I cannot convince you,
at least allow yourself to explore the possibilities of the truth,” he said.
“Mayhap you should ask his dead wife's mother for the facts of the
matter."
Unaware of Breck's lustful
thoughts, Summer struggled not to vomit at the smell of his repulsive breath.
"I will not," she groaned, striving to pull free of his grasp.
"She is a b-barbaric, malevolent woman and she shall only fill my ears
with more of her fabrications."
Breck stared at her a moment, a
measure of curiosity taking hold at her implication of her words.
"Then...then you have met her?"
Summer succeeded in pulling one
arm free. "Unfortunately."
Breck seemed to be unconcerned
with the limb she had released from his grip, peering strangely at her as she
endeavored to free the other. Knowing from his brother's information that the
isolated young woman had never traveled out of Chaldon's province, that factor
alone led him to believe that the very woman needed to support his cause was
not in London as had been speculated. She must be here at Chaldon.
"When did you meet
her?" he asked.
Summer hissed with exasperation
as she struggled to peel his fingers from her arm. "She arrived
yesterday." Realizing she would be unsuccessful in removing his hand from
her arm, she slapped at the appendage in frustration. "Release me, Breck
Kerry. I d-demand it!"
In the midst of her struggles,
Summer never saw the action that sent Breck to his knees, finally releasing his
hold on her arm. Suddenly, he was falling away from her as a great shadow
blocked out the silver-cast moon, enveloped them both in an eerie darkness.
Strong, gentle hands steadied her as Bose abruptly came into focus, his massive
body coiled with fury.
Brushing her hair from her eyes,
Summer was astounded as Bose delivered another powerful blow, sending Breck
sprawling to the ground in a spray of blood. Just as he balled his fist another
punch, Summer found her tongue.
"Bose!" she cried.
"Please... n-no more!"
Immediately, Bose’s momentum came
to a halt and he turned his focus to her. It was the most frightening
expression Summer had yet to see on his face.
"N-No more," in spite
of his dark countenance, she reached out to grasp his arm. "H-H-He...
H-H-He...."
Bose unclenched his fist,
straightening from his hovering position over a supine Breck. "Calm
yourself, love," he said, his tender voice far removed from the
threatening expression. "Take a deep breath and speak slowly."
Swallowing, Summer responded to
his gentle tone and her grip upon his arm tightened. As Breck writhed about in
the dirt, Summer pressed against Bose's massive torso, the warmth and power of
his flesh calming and comforting her more than anything she had ever
experienced. Smiling weakly, she was deeply relieved when he wrapped a massive
arm around her.
"B-Breck is not to
blame," she said quietly, hoping he would not become angry with her.
"I accompanied him of m-my own free will. The hall was stuffy and you were
b-busy with my father, and B-Breck offered to escort me into the fresh
air."
Bose's smile faded. "Did you
also give him permission to touch you?"
She shook her head, eyeing the
battered knight as he pushed himself to his knees. Even if she did not want
Bose to beat him senseless, she would not lie to protect his bold intentions.
"N-Nay. Never."
Bose's tender gesture faded
completely. Releasing Summer from his embrace, he motioned to his knights
standing several feet away. As Summer came to understand that she was to be
placed within the company of his men, she balked.
"Nay, Bose," she said,
clutching him firmly. "No further punishment. Come into the hall with me
now and we shall dance. P-please?"
He patted her cheek sweetly.
"Indeed we shall after I have finished punishing Breck for his boldness
against my betrothed."
Summer forgot about Breck. She
stared at Bose, her eyes widening with understanding.
"B-B-Be...B-B-Betrothed?"
The corner of his black eyes
crinkled. "Indeed. Ian, in fact, was most persuasive. Far more than I ever
believed him to be capable."
Summer's mouth popped open. "Truly?"
she whispered. "Father g-gave his permission?"
Bose was dangerously close to
forgetting his duty to punish the aggressive knight. All that mattered at the moment
was Summer's luscious lips, her incredibly beautiful face, as he gazed deeply
into dark golden eyes.
"A tentative
agreement," he replied softly, stroking her cheek once more. "In his
drunken state, it was all I was able to wrangle. Certainly, we shall speak more
on the subject tomorrow after I have emerged victorious in the joust."
Summer could scarcely believe
what she had been told. Just as Bose began to wonder if she understood his
words, suddenly, she let out a whoop of joy and clapped her hands together in a
gesture of pure delight. All laughter and silks and rose-scented perfume, she
threw her arms around his neck and he joined her excitement, whirling her about
in a joyous circle as his men looked on.
The smiles of de Moray's knights
were wide enough to cheer God himself. It was the first true display of emotion
their lord had allowed to surface in four years of grief. None of them had
expected such a happening on the day they had arrived for Lance du Bonne's
tournament; even if they returned home defeated and poor, they would always
recollect the trip to Chaldon Castle with the fondest memories, for their liege
had gained the grandest prize of all.
Bose spun Summer in circles,
listening to her giggles of happiness, thinking the feel of her in his arms to
be the most wonderful of sensations. He was so consumed with thoughts of a new
future that he forgot about the collection of men observing his excitement.
Before he could stop himself, his mouth was clinging to Summer's tender lips
and she giggled softly in joy and ardor, her arms tightly about his neck as her
feet dangled off the ground.
Somewhere in the midst of their
bliss, however, Breck had managed to regain his footing with a good deal of
effort. Grunting and off-balance, he watched de Moray and his lady with
mounting hatred. Morgan caught sight of the beaten knight from the corner of
his eye and turned to him.
"Clear out, Kerry," his
voice was low. "If you've not vacated the bailey by the time I count ten,
I'll finish what Bose started."
Breck drew in a deep breath
through his nose, fighting the nausea and dizziness that threatened. Still, he
couldn’t help himself from his haughty retort.
"I had no idea you could
count, Skye," he rumbled.
Before Morgan could reply to the
jibe, Breck was wisely retracing his steps toward the grand hall of Chaldon.
When he was out of sight, Morgan tore his gaze away from him long enough to
pass a final glance at Bose and Summer as they continued to nuzzle and kiss.
"Mayhap we should return to
the hall as well," he suggested with a faint smile. "Bose seems to
have the situation well in hand."
Tate cocked an auburn eyebrow. "He's
doing far better than the rest of us," he snorted softly, ignoring Farl's
gentle shove on the shoulder. "In fact, I have yet to so much as speak
with the lady I have championed for the better part of the tourney."
Adgar cast him a strange glance.
"What's this you say? How can you be her champion if you've never met
her?"
Tate smiled, a devilish gesture.
"She is my secret lady, of course. Unbeknownst to her, I chose her on the
day of our arrival and have yet to properly introduce myself. Considering she
is been seated in the lodges with a bear of a man clad in fine silks, I have
yet to work up the proper nerve."
Adgar's eyebrows rose in outraged
recognition. "The lady in the blue silk gown with the golden wimple
that…."
"...that looks like a
Unicorn's horn?" Tate finished suspiciously.
Adgar's brows abruptly furrowed
as realization dawned. "Indeed! She is
my
lady, Farnum. Choose
another."
Morgan and Farl laughed
uproariously, moving around Tate and Adgar as the two men squared off against
each other like a pair of dominant cocks. Heading toward the cavernous entrance
to the festive gallery, they left the two suitors to do their battle as they
focused on more promising diversions awaiting them.
Between the laughter and shouting
and harsh arguments, no one seemed to notice that Artur continued to stand and
observe the interaction between Bose and Summer. Old and hard of hearing though
he might be, the old man knew his nephew well enough to know that the man was
far gone in love with the beautiful young maiden. Not that he could fault the
man his taste, of course; flawed speech or no, Summer du Bonne was the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen, Lora included, if Artur would allow himself
to be so brutally frank.
So Bose had found a new wife. As
wonderful as the event was, the fact remained that Margot was casting a long
shadow upon the destiny of Bose's future union. Tearing his gaze away from the
delighted pair of lovers, he turned toward the grand hall, alive with music and
dancing and drunken bodies. Now was not the appropriate time to bring up his
concern over Margot's menace, but he had little doubt that such a time would
rapidly come to bear.
Passing one final glance at the
couple locked in an amorous embrace, he followed the pair of Bose's arguing
knights into the warm, stenchy hall.
***
Breck had hardly taken a seat
when a soft, bird-like hand touched him on the arm. Growling, he brushed the
hand away and snatched a pitcher of wine from a passing serving wench, pouring
himself a sloppy measure. Gulping the liquor, he sighed heavily as the
fortifying warmth coursed down his tongue.
"Does the wine lend bravery
as well?"
The frail voice came from behind.
Breck drew in another mouthful of alcohol, turning disinterestedly toward the
source. A small woman, quite old, held his gaze a moment before he turned away,
back to his drink. He had no idea who the woman was and did not care.
"He left a bruise upon your
cheek, young lord," the woman spoke again. "Punishment for touching
his lady?"
Breck swallowed another gulp of
wine, smacking his lips before deciding, strangely enough, to look to the old
woman once again. His gaze raked her shriveled, tiny form.
"What do you want, woman,
and be quick about it."
The woman offered a thin smile.
"I want what you want. To separate Sir Bose from his lady."
Breck stared at her a moment.
"Why? So you can have him all to yourself? I'd hardly consider you to be of
marriageable age."
The woman's eyes glittered
through the smoky haze of the hall. Even though she was tiny and feeble and
harmless in appearance, Breck could sense a terrifying darkness from her. His
gaze followed her as she seated herself daintily beside him.
"I do not want to marry him,
my lord," she said quietly, her expression steady. "He is already
married."
Breck continued to stare at her,
cocking a slow eyebrow after a contemplative pause. "I understand his wife
is dead."
"In body, mayhap. But not in
spirit."
The red-haired knight pondered
her odd answer a moment as his impatience returned."What do you
want?"
The lady's weak smile transformed
into a genuine gesture. "As I indicated, the same as you. You are
interested in Sir Bose's lady, are you not?"
Breck licked his lips
thoughtfully. "And if I am?"
"Would you do anything to
obtain her?"
"Within reason."
The woman laughed softly. "I
am not suggesting you fight Sir Bose for her, for certainly, you would lose.
The man is unbeatable."
"I know. I have battled him
several times in tournament and am well aware of his skill," taking
another swallow of wine, his small green eyes took on a curious nuance.
"Who are you?"
The woman's smile faded.
"Who do you think I am?"
"I most certainly do not
know who you are."
The aged lady stared at him, her
smile relaxing until her thin lips were straight and true. "Tell me your
name, Sir Knight."
"Sir Breck Kerry, Lord of
Crestwood."
The old woman nodded faintly.
"Sir Breck, if you desire Sir Bose's lady, then I will most assuredly help
you."
Breck pushed his cup aside and
sat forward. Leaning on the table, he studied the ancient, once-fine woman
intently.
"Not until you tell me who
you are."
"The perfect weapon by which
to accomplish your desires."
"That tells me nothing. Are
you involved in his household?"