Warriors Of Legend (50 page)

They watched as the troop disappeared among the trees. “You asked for quite the payment from the lord,” Ulric said.

“He did say I could have anything I want.”

“And you think that a wife will solve your dilemma?”

Gavin nodded. “Aye.”

Ulric shook his head. “I have doubts that the lord intends to keep his promise.”

“We’ll just have to pay a visit and remind him of it,” Gavin said.

CHAPTER 2

“We’ve come to collect the bride of Sir Gavin the Bold.” A man’s deep voice rang out in the great hall. A murmur rumbled throughout the large room. Several of the men–at–arms looked at each other, their eyebrows raised at the brash statement.

The man stood at the entrance while a second man stood slightly off to the side, hidden in the half shadow.

The first knight stepped forward. His dirty wheat colored hair reached his shoulders, and a beard covered half of his broad face. A large cloak draped his body, but the thick woolen material couldn’t hide the dense muscles underneath, muscles that must have been forged from years of battle and war. He had a bearing of someone used to authority, and the ferocious gleam in his silver eyes showed no fear, even when faced with a room filled with warriors. He slowly scanned the wide–eyed onlookers, defying them to question his purpose.

Lady Estella de Leraye watched as Sir Etienne, the garrison commander stood up. He grasped the edge of the trestle table, his mouth tense. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Baron Clifton de Leraye, Lord of Cedwick upon seeing the large stranger, dropped the ladle in his hand, his face turning as pale as the table cloth on the trestle table.

The knight ignored the commander’s question, and boldly stepped toward the dais. He leaned forward, and lifted Estella’s father by the collar, pulling him out of his chair. “You promised one of your daughters to my master,” he growled.

Lord Cedwick clawed at the iron grip on his tunic. “You must be mistaken,” he gasped. “I’ve made no such promises!”

“I held witness to your pledge,” the knight said, his voice menacing.

“Let Lord Cedwick go,” Sir Etienne said, springing up to disentangle his master from the knight’s powerful grip.

“Tell your man to stay where he is. We don’t want bloodshed. We only want what is owed to Sir Gavin.”

Her father waved his hand for Sir Etienne to be seated. The commander paused, unsure whether he should ignore his master’s instructions.

Estella stood up. This is madness, she thought frantically. This stranger dared to insult her father in his own home. Who did he think he was? She glanced at her sisters who sat frozen, as if they watched a horrific murder scene unfolding in a village play.

“Release my father at once!” Estella said.

Her younger sister Alys gaped at her for a second before clutching at her arm, trying in vain to pull her back down onto her seat.

But Estella remained rooted in her spot. Her heart raced at the prospect that her life was probably going to end right here, right now. But she couldn’t allow her family’s honor to be disgraced in this manner. She swallowed hard when the strange knight focused his grey eyes on her.

“Who are you?” Estella demanded loudly. “How did you get into our castle?” She narrowed her eyes at the man. “‘Tis upsetting that you have come into our home —”

“Enough,” a voice boomed near the hall’s entrance.

At hearing the commanding voice, the knight abruptly released his prisoner and pushed him back. Lord Cedwick slumped into his chair. Sir Etienne tried to steady him, but he pushed the commander’s hands away.

“I have come for what is owed to me. As for how we got in, that is something to ask of your sleeping porter. You can find him trussed up on the ground. I’m certain a firm reprimand will correct any future carelessness.”

Estella looked past the first knight, and when she saw an even larger one, her eyes widened in alarm. In the full light, this second knight looked even more frightening and dangerous than his companion. Every step he took seemed deliberate and commanding, as if he was a lion surveying his domain. The air surrounding him crackled and even from this distance, Estella could sense the power that emanated from him.

Like his friend, he wore a thick woolen cloak that accentuated his warrior’s physique. The material stretched across his broad shoulders and draped over his massive chest.

He glanced her way as if he was aware of her intense perusal of him. His unwavering gaze made Estella flush.

He searched her face, his eyes lingering on her countenance for what felt like an eternity. It was as if he could see through to the center of her being, could hear her thoughts. But how could that be? She had never met this man in her life. And as far as she knew, no one could read minds, could they? Her fingers dug into the trestle table, needing somehow to feel something solid, something to steady her trembling limbs.

His eyes scanned over the rest of her body, his gaze settling on her breasts and then her hips. Estella felt an inexplicable urge to cover herself as a wave of heat coursed through her body. He raised his eyes to hers and time stood still.

When he broke away from the electrifying contact, Estella felt the warmth being withdrawn as if a servant had opened the shutters, and let the cold air inside. Estella let out her breath in a rush, suddenly aware that she had been holding it.

This man was dangerous. That much she could tell, and she suppressed an urge to shudder.

His eyes wandered over to her sisters who sat beside her. Estella watched as he looked briefly at Marguerite, her youngest sister, before settling his gaze on Alys. She couldn’t blame the stranger for admiring her younger sisters. Alys, in particular, was light haired, petite and blessed with an angelic beauty that drew men to her side. She was the very image of their mother. Marguerite on the other hand possessed darker looks, although she was equally as beautiful.

“I will have the golden haired one,” the large knight said.

Estella’s heart skipped a beat. Did she hear him correctly? He wanted to take Alys away from Cedwick Castle? A protective instinct surged into her chest. “Nay, my sister will stay where she is,” she said, her voice carrying across the now muted hall. “I will go in her stead.”

She ignored the panicked gasps coming from her sisters.

The dark knight’s piercing gaze returned to Estella, assessing her once more as if she was an overlooked gem. His perusal of her made her blush again and she cursed her fair skin. She jutted out her chin in defiance. The least attractive of her sisters, she knew very well that she paled in comparison to them. She inherited many of her father’s features from the high cheekbones, straight nose and sharp jaw. Her best assets were her eyes, which was the color of the blue–green sea. Her hair unfortunately was a curly red mass with a touch of gold. Her hair color and her looks were all wrong and didn’t hold well to the current fashions.

“So be it,” he nodded in agreement. “Any one of you will do.” He then turned and continued toward the dais.

Her father watched as the dark knight approached. He folded his arms across his chest. However, instead of appearing brave and defiant, he looked as if he wanted the stone floor to crack open and swallow him up.

“I cannot allow you to have Estella,” he said as the knight came closer. “She’s my eldest daughter and she helps me run my affairs.”

“We made a bargain,” the knight said. He pinned her father with a cold stare. “Do you intend to honor it?”

Estella went still. Her father didn’t mention making any bargains with anyone. And her father told her everything. There was more going on here than she realized. Somehow he had made a pact with the devil and offered one of his daughters as payment?

Alys tugged at her arm again, this time harder. “Estella,” she hissed urgently. “Sit down!”

Marguerite edged closer to Alys, staring at the two strange men, her face filled with a mixture of fear and alarm.

Estella narrowed her eyes at the confrontation, watching the men thoughtfully. “I need to know the details of this agreement they made,” she said in a low voice.

Suddenly the dark haired knight turned to his companion and nodded to Estella, “Bring the red haired one over to me, Ulric,” he said.

The knight nodded and walked over to Estella. He had a serious, determined glint in his eyes, but compared to his friend, he seemed almost pleasant. He beckoned her to move from her seat and follow him. But when she didn’t move immediately, he moved closer, his intentions to haul her out of her seat quite clear on his face.

She stopped him with a withering stare. “Do not dare touch me,” she said.

“Come peaceably, my lady,” Ulric said, “Neither of us came here to cause trouble.”

She looked around the hall, observing all the upturned, anxious faces. “‘Tis too late for that,” she said suddenly feeling violated by the turn of events. She had no idea what she would tell the castle inhabitants to assuage their worries and prevent them from gossiping. She liked to keep the family affairs private but now this spectacle was being acted out for all to see.

She glanced at her father. His face was pinched with fear and outrage, each emotion at war with one another. Sir Etienne too looked uncertain as to what he should do about the two large strangers in the hall. If he called for his men to rise up against them, innocent lives would be at risk. And besides, he knew that none of his men had their weapons at their disposal. Her father forced his men to surrender their weapons at the door before each meal. And judging by the look on his face, he regretted this decision.

The dark stranger loomed over him.

Estella reluctantly got up, and Alys made a move to follow her. But the guard shook his head. “Just her,” he said.

Alys narrowed her eyes at him but wisely kept silent.

Estella made her way down from the raised platform, acutely aware of the curious stares.

She approached Gavin who stood between her and her father. “May I have a few words with my father, kind sir?”

Gavin stepped aside, granting her request.

Estella gazed up at her father. “Father,” she said. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes and instead played with a piece of string that stuck out at the sleeve of his dark green tunic. “Tell me that this is all a jest,” she gestured to the two knights, “and these men are here only to provide entertainment on a dreary winter’s night.”

Her heart sank when minutes passed by and her father still had not answered her.

“This is not a jest,” the dark stranger said finally, cutting into the silence. “I saved your father’s life, and in exchange he consented to give away one of his daughters to me. And since you volunteered yourself, I’ll take you to be my wife.”

Estella shook her head, trying her best to remain calm. “I have not heard of this bargain. Sir…?” She looked inquiringly at him. “Forgive me. In all this excitement, I have forgotten your name.”

“Sir Gavin of Ashburn. Also known as Sir Gavin the Bold,” he answered. “And this is my commander, Sir Ulric de Troville.”

Ulric gave her a mocking bow.

A vague memory triggered in her mind. “Sir Gavin the Bold? Your name sounds familiar,” she said. Then her eyebrows knitted with skepticism, her eyes scanning his rugged features. “I have not heard of this knight for many years now. ‘Tis thought that he has retired or is dead.”

“None of that is true, I assure you.”

Estella twisted her lips, a doubtful expression lingering on her face. “Well, Sir Gavin, Father confides everything to me and not once has he mentioned this agreement that you speak of.” She turned to her father, and lifted an eyebrow. “Father?”

“I don’t remember the details of our exchange,” her father said, his eyes blinking rapidly.

“How convenient of you to forget so that you don’t have to uphold your end of the bargain,” Ulric said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“The entire day felt like a blur…” her father explained weakly, his mouth curved downward as his eyebrows began to furrow.

“Then let me refresh your memory once again,” Gavin said. “You promised that I could have anything.” He nodded to Estella. “And she is what I want.”

Her father waved a hand over his brow before closing his eyes briefly, as if trying to recall the past events, or to shield her from the truth. She could forgive that her father might be forgetful except she knew he had an excellent memory. He could recall every manner of drink stored in the buttery without referring to the parchment that the butler drew up every year. He knew exactly how many geese were raised within the castle grounds. So the thought that her father could be lying — that single thought struck her like a fist to her stomach.

Her mother had died three years earlier, and Estella suspected that her death had affected her father profoundly. He should have remarried and tried to produce a son after the required mourning period. But he kept putting it off and brushing off Estella’s concerns. “I have enough children,” he had said. “Any wealth I have will be divided among my three daughters and their husbands.”

Yet he still wanted to ensure that they had a good future. He instructed Bess to drill into their head the ideals of family honor and respectability. Without a good family reputation, they were told their prospects for the future were dim. They came from a well respected line of nobles but they were not royalty.

If her father’s words could no longer be trusted, then all that he taught her was a lie.

And on top of that, her sisters’ marriage opportunities would be endangered. What high ranking, respectable nobleman or knight would willingly marry into a family that lacked honor, and was shunned by their peers?

Unable to hold back her dismay and disappointment, the dark emotions lashed at her like an unrelenting winter storm. “When were you going to tell us about this bargain you made, Father?” she asked in a quiet voice.

His eyes dropped to his lap. “I don’t recall everything that happened that day.” He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small sigh. Then he looked at her, holding out his palms, pleading for her understanding. “The gang of outlaws and robbers — they ambushed me. I don’t —”