Brides of the North: A Medieval Scottish Romance Bundle Read online

  BRIDES OF THE NORTH

  A Medieval Romance Collection

  By Kathryn Le Veque

  Copyright © 2005, 2006, 2011, 2013, 2014, 2015 by Kathryn Le Veque

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Printed by Kathryn Le Veque Novels in the United States of America

  Text copyright 2009, 2014 by Kathryn Le Veque

  Kathryn Le Veque Novels

  Medieval Romance:

  De Wolfe Pack Series:

  Warwolfe

  The Wolfe

  Nighthawk

  ShadowWolfe

  DarkWolfe

  A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas

  Serpent

  A Wolfe Among Dragons

  Scorpion

  Dark Destroyer

  The Lion of the North

  Walls of Babylon

  StormWolfe

  BlackWolfe

  The de Russe Legacy:

  The Falls of Erith

  Lord of War: Black Angel

  The Iron Knight

  Beast

  The Dark One: Dark Knight

  The White Lord of Wellesbourne

  Dark Moon

  Dark Steel

  A de Russe Christmas Miracle

  The de Lohr Dynasty:

  While Angels Slept

  Rise of the Defender

  Steelheart

  Shadowmoor

  Silversword

  Spectre of the Sword

  Unending Love

  Archangel

  Lords of East Anglia:

  While Angels Slept

  Godspeed

  Great Lords of le Bec:

  Great Protector

  House of de Royans:

  Lord of Winter

  To the Lady Born

  Lords of Eire:

  Echoes of Ancient Dreams

  Blacksword

  The Darkland

  Ancient Kings of Anglecynn:

  The Whispering Night

  Netherworld

  Battle Lords of de Velt:

  The Dark Lord

  Devil’s Dominion

  Bay of Fear

  Reign of the House of de Winter:

  Lespada

  Swords and Shields

  De Reyne Domination:

  Guardian of Darkness

  With Dreams

  The Fallen One

  House of d’Vant:

  Tender is the Knight (House of d’Vant)

  The Red Fury (House of d’Vant)

  The Dragonblade Series:

  Fragments of Grace

  Dragonblade

  Island of Glass

  The Savage Curtain

  The Fallen One

  Great Marcher Lords of de Lara

  Lord of the Shadows

  Dragonblade

  House of St. Hever

  Fragments of Grace

  Island of Glass

  Queen of Lost Stars

  Lords of Pembury:

  The Savage Curtain

  Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood Trilogy

  The Thunder Lord

  The Thunder Warrior

  The Thunder Knight

  The Great Knights of de Moray:

  Shield of Kronos

  The Gorgon

  The House of De Nerra:

  The Promise

  The Falls of Erith

  Vestiges of Valor

  Realm of Angels

  Highland Warriors of Munro:

  The Red Lion

  Deep Into Darkness

  The House of de Garr:

  Lord of Light

  Realm of Angels

  Saxon Lords of Hage:

  The Crusader

  Kingdom Come

  High Warriors of Rohan:

  High Warrior

  The House of Ashbourne:

  Upon a Midnight Dream

  The House of D’Aurilliac:

  Valiant Chaos

  The House of De Dere:

  Of Love and Legend

  St. John and de Gare Clans:

  The Warrior Poet

  The House of de Bretagne:

  The Questing

  The House of Summerlin:

  The Legend

  The Kingdom of Hendocia:

  Kingdom by the Sea

  The Executioner Knights:

  By the Unholy Hand

  The Promise (also Noble Knights of de Nerra)

  The Mountain Dark

  Starless

  A Time of End

  Contemporary Romance:

  Kathlyn Trent/Marcus Burton Series:

  Valley of the Shadow

  The Eden Factor

  Canyon of the Sphinx

  The American Heroes Anthology Series:

  The Lucius Robe

  Fires of Autumn

  Evenshade

  Sea of Dreams

  Purgatory

  Other non-connected Contemporary Romance:

  Lady of Heaven

  Darkling, I Listen

  In the Dreaming Hour

  River’s End

  The Fountain

  Sons of Poseidon:

  The Immortal Sea

  Pirates of Britannia Series (with Eliza Knight):

  Savage of the Sea by Eliza Knight

  Leader of Titans by Kathryn Le Veque

  The Sea Devil by Eliza Knight

  Sea Wolfe by Kathryn Le Veque

  Note: All Kathryn’s novels are designed to be read as stand-alones, although many have cross-over characters or cross-over family groups. Novels that are grouped together have related characters or family groups. You will notice that some series have the same books; that is because they are cross-overs. A hero in one book may be the secondary character in another.

  There is NO reading order except by chronology, but even in that case, you can still read the books as stand-alones. No novel is connected to another by a cliff hanger, and every book has an HEA.

  Series are clearly marked. All series contain the same characters or family groups except the American Heroes Series, which is an anthology with unrelated characters.

  For more information, find it in A Reader’s Guide to the Medieval World of Le Veque.

  Contents

  Guardian of Darkness

  The Lion of the North

  The Warrior Poet

  The Questing

  Excerpt from Age of Gods and Mortals

  GUARDIAN OF DARKNESS

  A Medieval Romance

  By Kathryn Le Veque

  Dedication

  A good portion of this book is about brothers;

  I only have one,

  William Ralph Bouse III

  (a.k.a., Billy, Bill, Unco Bee, or just plain Bee)

  His spirit and character are embodied in the de Reyne Brothers.

  We should all be so lucky to have such brothers.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Scottish Borders

  May 1200 A.D.

  The knight walked into a trap.

  Whack!

  The blow landed on his forehead, sending him to the ground. The torch butt was tossed aside as the attacker ejected herself from the tent. From the moment she struck the man who was coming to see to her comfort, she knew that there was no turning back. She had decided on this course of action earlier in the evening when panic and despair were bedfellows in her fragile mind. She wanted no part of this insane agreement her father called a peace accord. She wou
ld not be a hostage for the sake of harmony. She wanted to go home.

  Unfortunately, she had not thought beyond the initial escape attempt. Thoughts of collecting her horse were quickly dashed when she realized that she would not have the chance. It did not occur to her, given that her tent was in the middle of the Sassenach encampment, that anyone would notice she was missing. She rather hoped she would have the same consistency of a ghost. Unfortunately, she was not difficult to miss; a tiny woman with long hair the color of a raven’s wing. In a camp full of soldiers, it had been idiotic to imagine that she would not stand out. The moment she fled from the tent, someone saw her and, of course, the game was afoot.

  Alarms went out all over the camp. The sentries sounded the cry in the damp, heavy night air; she could hear them. Her heart began to race as she pounded her way across the wet grass that had been mashed by the contingent of soldiers sent from Prudhoe Castle. She would not cooperate with their assignment. She did not want to live in an English castle as a hostage, insurance that her father would behave himself and enforce the peace from Carter Bar to Yetholm.

  She honestly thought she could outrun anyone who might attempt to chase her down, at least until she lost herself in the trees. She had always been a fast runner. But what she did not count on were the destriers in pursuit, massive war horses bred for battle. They were enormous beasts and she could hear their thunder approach. The trees were in the distance, a dark indistinguishable line too far for her to reach before the warhorses were upon her. She knew she was about to be caught. But she would not give up without a fight.

  A huge mailed hand reached down and grabbed her by the arm. Swinging her little fists, she fought and kicked as the English knight unceremoniously threw her over his lap. Though she struggled valiantly, she was no match against an armored warrior. But that did not stop her from resisting him all the way back to the camp.

  When the knight finally let her go, she tumbled to the ground and ended up on her arse. Furious green eyes, the color of emeralds, glared up at the warrior. She shook a fist at him.

  “Ye should have let me go,” she bellowed. “I will only run again.”

  The knight had his helm on, visor lifted so he could get a good look at her. From what she’d been able to gather, he was the captain of the men who held her captive. He was very tall, with dusky blue eyes and a thin blond mustache. And the look upon his face suggested he would not tolerate her rebellion.

  “Lady Carington,” he braced his gloved hand against his thigh and leaned on it. “I thought we were clear on this matter. Your father has offered you to my liege, Lord Richard d’Umfraville of Prudhoe Castle, in exchange for peace between Prudhoe and Clan Kerr. This has come after several years of bitter conflict to which I have personally witnessed. Even if you should make it home, which would be a miracle in itself, your father would simply turn you back over to us. You do not seem to understand that you have no choice.”

  The Lady Carington Kerr picked herself off the ground with as much dignity as she could muster. She knew his words were true, but still, she resisted. Yet her actions were borne of fear more than of true rebellion; she was terrified at the prospect of being a hostage. Her father had been unclear with respect to the duration of her captivity. Surrounded by strangers, enemy strangers no less, she was full of the Devil. Perhaps if she seemed nasty enough, unruly enough, they would leave her alone. It was all purely in self-defense.

  “Stay away from me, Sassenach,” she growled. “Tell your dogs to leave me be.”

  Sir Ryton de Reyne could see that he had his hands full. His lovely little hostage had been relatively quiet until just a few minutes ago when she smacked one of his knights so hard that the man was still seeing stars. Dismounting his Belgian charger, he handed the steed off to the nearest soldier and took a few steps towards her. But he made sure to stay out of arm’s length, just in case.

  “I can personally vouch for my men, my lady,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Like you, we are simply doing as ordered. We are taking you back to Prudhoe. You alone have the power to make this a pleasant journey or an unpleasant one. Rest assured that we can play any game you like, and play it far better than you. So I would ask, for your sake, that you accept the situation for what it is. If I have to tie you up for the rest of the journey back to Prudhoe, have no doubt that I will do it.”

  Carington gazed into his dusky blue eyes, having little reservation that he meant what he said. For the first time since her mad dash to freedom, she seemed to show some uncertainty. When she did not reply right away, Ryton took the opportunity to present her to the knights surrounding them.

  “If you please, my lady,” he began casually. “I would introduce you to the knights under my command. You will be seeing much of them and proper introductions are in order. Perhaps it will make you feel more comfortable.”

  Carington took a step back from him; he had come too close and she was still skittish. Ryton indicated the man immediately to his right. “This is Sir Stanton de Witt. If you do not recognize him, you should – he is the one you tried to behead. Next to him are Burle de Tarquinus and Jory d’Eneas.”

  Carington looked at the knight with the huge red mark on his forehead; he was young, pale featured, with big eyes and an angular face. He nodded politely at her and she suddenly felt guilty for striking him. Next to him, Sir Burle was a very large man, older, with receding blond hair and round cheeks. He was very nearly as wide as he was tall, but she could see that with age he had mostly gone to fat. His mail jiggled when he moved. The final knight indicated was a short man with nondescript brown eyes and a head of wavy brown hair. But there was something about his eyes that unnerved her. It was like gazing into a bottomless pit.

  At this point, however, everything unnerved her. As she continued to gaze warily at the collection, the sound of hooves approached from behind and she started. Thundering down upon them was another knight, a figure that cut a massive path through the grass. He was, in fact, a massive man; Carington had seen quite a few large men in her time, being Scots, and was accustomed to big men with loud voices. But this knight was different; he seemed to take up all of the air around him, sucking it dry as he reined his fire-breathing charger to a halt and dismounted. When he flipped up his three-point visor, focusing on the group of knights and one small lady, she swore she saw lightning bolts shooting from his eyes. That was her first impression of the man. She resisted the urge to flinch and step away.

  “The perimeter guards have been calmed,” the man’s voice was so deep that it was like listening to the sound of distant thunder. His gaze barely lingered on the lady before turning back to the knight in charge. “I see you have captured the escapee.”

  Ryton nodded, still looking at the lady even as he gestured towards the enormous knight. “My lady, this is Sir Creed de Reyne,” he said. “I would suggest you make no move against him. He doesn’t like women in general and you would be taking your life in your hands. If he gives you a directive, I would strongly advise that you follow it without hesitation. In fact, that goes for any of my knights. What we do, we do for your safety and not out of some misguided sense of punishment. We are not here to harm you, but to protect you as we have been ordered to. Is that clear?”

  Carington gazed at the host of faces surrounding her. It was clear but she did not like it in the least. For the moment, however, she had no choice. She looked pointedly at the knight in command.

  “What is yer name Sir Knight?” she asked in her heavy, yet deliciously sweet, Scots burr. It would have been quite delightful had the tone not been so menacing. “Ye’ve introduced me to everyone but ye.”

  “I am Sir Ryton de Reyne, commander of Prudhoe’s army.”

  “De Reyne,” she rolled her “r” heavily, looking between Ryton and the enormous knight standing next to him. “Ye both have the same name. Are ye brothers, then?”

  Ryton nodded. “We are.”

  Carington’s gaze lingered between the men, noting a slight fa
mily resemblance. They both had the same square jaw, like a block of stone, set and hard. But the aura that radiated from Sir Ryton’s brother was a thousand times more intimidating. Carington did not like the feel, or the look, of him. There was something dark and bitter there.

  With nothing more to say and escape plans thwarted for the moment, the lady remained silent as Ryton motioned to Sir Burle to take her back to her tent. Ryton’s gaze lingered on her a moment, watching her lowered head as his men took her back to her temporary residence. Next to him, Creed had already mounted and was directing his fussing charger back to camp. Ryton vaulted onto his steed and reined his horse near his brother.

  The night was dark and foggy as they crossed the open area towards the cluster of smoking fires. There was heavy dampness in the air, coating their armor with a thin layer of water. It would need to be cleaned and dried before it rusted, keeping the squires up most of the night.

  “What do you think of her?” Ryton asked after a few moments of pensive silence.

  Creed’s dark eyes, a dusky blue color that appeared nearly black with the lack of moonlight, tracked the three knights and the one tiny lady in the distance.

  “It does not matter what I think,” he said. “We are doing as we are told. We are returning her to Prudhoe.”

  Ryton’s gaze moved from the lady to his brother; younger by thirteen months, the two of them had served most of their lives together with the exception of the past three. Creed had been commandeered by King John, having seen the man in action in d’Umfraville’s ranks and demanding his service. Creed had been honored by the king’s request and had served flawlessly up until an escort mission to France to accompany the king’s future bride, twelve-year-old Isabella of Angoulệme, back to England. That had been over six months ago. And that was when the trouble had started.

  Ryton knew his brother did not want anything to do with another escort mission. He’d known it from the start. But his brother was back in the service of d’Umfraville and they had their orders.

  “You are not going to like what I have to say,” Ryton said quietly.

  Creed would not look at his brother. “Then do not say it.”

  “I must,” he said. “You are the only one capable of handling this girl until we reach Prudhoe. You are the calmest of my men and by far the most astute. You are the only one.…”