Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) Read online

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Midsummer’s Day had arrived, and Raeb couldn’t believe the sight that greeted him as they topped the hill above Dungarob. He wanted to hurry toward the approaching people but was held back by worry for Jessamyn and fear that he was imagining things. The battle could not possibly be over yet.

  “Now what?” She pouted and halted Persia beside him.

  They’d been in the saddle all day, and after the rigors of the boar fight she had to be as weary as he.

  “Look.”

  She leaned forward in her saddle, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Is that … ?”

  “Aye. ’Tis my sister Keeva and most of the guards I left at the keep. They’ve captured Edward’s soldiers.”

  “Thank heaven your family is safe, but what of Simon?” Jessamyn slumped back.

  “Keeva will know. Keeva!” Raeb called out as the group approached. “What goes on here? Have you word of Sir Simon Du Grace?”

  “Raeb!” His sister whooped and raced away from the group she led to meet up with him. She pulled her horse—a very nice horse, too, not one of the cart horses his sisters normally shared—to a stop beside him and gave him an awkward embrace. “And Jessamyn!”

  The young woman treated Jessamyn with the same clumsy affection.

  “We’re so glad to see you. You’ll never believe what happened while you were gone. It was all Artis’s idea. Though Neilina refined the plan and gave the orders. And it worked. We had a time convincing Dougal to follow those orders, but eventually he recognized that there was no other way to defend the keep and disarm these wretched Englishmen. Oh—” His sister covered her mouth then dropped her hand and let the flood of words rush on. “I’m sorry, Jessamyn, I mean no disrespect to you, but why your brother would wish to attack us when we are to become family is beyond … ”

  Beside him, Jessamyn gnawed at her lip. “Simon is here? Is he well?”

  “Aye, that is sort of. He claimed he only sailed on one of those ships that brought the soldiers because he wanted to attend your wedding. We locked him in the tower room because some of the soldiers said he was their leader, and we dinna know whom to believe.” Raeb’s normally shy sister’s eyes widened. “Oh, is that a dog? Where did you … ?”

  “Keeva!” he snapped to get her attention. Relief that Simon Du Grace lived fled before the worry that Jessamyn would beseech her brother’s support against him. “Stop prattling. Was anyone killed or hurt in the battle?”

  “Um.”

  By that time the rest of Keeva’s group caught up with her, and a large blonde man in Highland dress broke ranks after telling the others to continue on.

  “There was no battle, Baron MacKai,” the stranger announced. “However, I regret to inform you that your sister Lady Brighde suffered a small injury. Also an Englishman, who claims to be your future brother-in-law, received a wound to his shoulder, and Dougal one to his head. Lady Maeve, another of your sisters as I understand, has treated all, and they are resting as comfortably as possible given that Sir Du Grace is, at the moment, a prisoner.”

  “Raeb,” Jessamyn spoke in his ear. “We can sort this out after we get to the keep. I need to see my brother.”

  “Aye, give me but a moment.” He nodded. He could not stop her if she chose to leave him, but his heart would go with her. “Exactly who are you, where are you taking those men, and why is my sister with you?”

  The man drew himself up, which brought him eye to eye with Raeb. “I take these men to ransom them as my share of the spoils of victory. I am MacTavish, and Lady Keeva is my chosen bride.”

  Raeb gave the man his sternest look. “I agreed to a marriage between you and one of my sisters, but we have no drawn up the marriage contracts. For both your sakes, l pray you have no yet spoken you vows before a priest, since I’ll no permit the marriage without protection and provision for Keeva. Do you understand me, MacTavish?”

  “Aye, I do. My warriors will continue on to the MacTavish holding with our prisoners. Lady Keeva, ’tis best if you and I return to Dungarob with your brother. We’ll join my men, after our vows are said.”

  She opened her mouth, but must have thought it better to hold her tongue. Then she nodded and set off as if her mount’s hooves were afire. Had he seen relief in her eyes? Jessamyn urged Persia forward to match Keeva’s speed. He mentally shook his head at the rapidly disappearing women.

  Tonight he would settle things with Jessamyn, but first he had to unsnarl the mess his sisters had created and make certain Keeva was willing to wed MacTavish. Despite the looming tasks, Raeb was grateful his sisters had somehow thwarted Edward’s plot with so much ease and so little death and injury. He was eager to learn the story of how six women and a smattering of Scots warriors had accomplished something the Welsh had failed to do: defeat an English army without a single loss of life.

  • • •

  “But I don’t want to rest,” Jessamyn objected as Raeb, a firm hand on her arm, escorted her to their chamber. “I’ve no objection to the bath you ordered, but that can wait until I’ve seen my brother. I insist on seeing Simon. Now!”

  He opened the door. “Be reasonable, Jessamyn. You heard Maeve say your brother was sleeping. You would no want to disturb the healing sleep of a wounded man. ’Tis best if you take time to bathe and rest. You need to recover from that fight with the boar, and your other injuries are still healing.”

  Jessamyn drew herself up. She needed to gain Simon’s promise to help her before Raeb did something idiotic like explaining to her brother why honor demanded her marriage to Baron MacKai. “I am not your wife,” she protested. “You have no authority to order me about. I may do precisely as I please.”

  Raeb released his grip but leaned forward, his expression fierce. “I am your betrothed and your host. I have every right to order you within these walls, and you will do precisely as I please. It pleases me that you bathe and rest. I will send Maeve to attend you when you finish your bath.”

  “Do not bother.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged, turned on his heel and left.

  She waited for the thunk of the bar dropping into place on the other side of the door. Surely he would not trust her to stay here when she’d openly opposed his order that she do so. It was a trick. She’d try to leave, and he’d pounce on her. She rolled her eyes at herself and went to sit on a bench beneath a window. What nonsense. Raeb was not given to that sort of trickery. More likely leaving the door unbarred was some sort of test, or he truly did not care.

  Her shoulders slumped. How sad that she and Raeb now shared nothing but anger and indifference. She believed with all her heart that marriage to her would cause him the worst unhappiness, but she did not wish this gulf to exist between them because of her refusal to wed. She wanted him to be happy, to have all he needed to restore his home and his clan. She could see no way to resolve the problem and was shaking her head over her failure when the door opened and a hoard of maids entered bearing everything needed for a lady’s bath.

  Maeve arrived as Jessamyn stepped out of the bath and allowed a maid to wrap her in a towel. Raeb’s sister carried a large basket filled with pots of ointment and bunches of herbs. Behind her another maid brought a stack of clean clothes.

  Jessamyn stared. “I doubt you’ll need all of that for me.”

  Maeve nodded and smiled. “You’re right. Please get on the bed and lie on your stomach. I brought everything because I tended Raeb first.”

  “He allowed you to tend his injuries?”

  Raeb’s sister gave a small laugh and set to work poking and prodding at the various scrapes and bruises that Jessamyn could only feel. “I wouldna say he allowed it. More like he had no choice. The cut and the bruising on your thigh are quite bad. Does that hurt?”

  Maeve stroked a hand over the leg sliced by the boar’s tusk.

  “The cut not so much, but the battered muscles still ache as if the devil’s minions are trying to tear my leg apart from the inside.”
<
br />   “Hmm.” Maeve moved on to examine other bruises, then proceeded to treat her thigh with something cool and wet that smelled vaguely of mint and rosemary. Raeb’s sister rubbed the leg with gentle firm strokes but gave the cut only the lightest touch.

  “You were telling me why Raeb had no choice but to accept your care,” Jessamyn reminded.

  “Turn over, please. My sisters and I surrounded him and would no leave him be until he saw cooperating with me as his only escape from our chatter and demands.” She began to examine Jess’s face.

  Jessamyn smiled at the thought and almost felt sorry for Raeb. While Maeve searched for and treated more bruises and scrapes, Jessamyn remembered what it was like to have all of Raeb’s sisters, save Sorcha, demanding attention at one time during her first days at Dungarob. She sighed. Pity it takes six or seven women to manage a man like Raeb.

  “Aye, ’tis a great pity, but a single woman can gain his cooperation if she knows how to approach him.”

  Jessamyn covered her mouth.

  “I need to look at that arm,” Maeve said.

  “I’m sorry, I did not mean to speak that thought aloud.”

  “You didna.”

  “Then how … ?”

  “As a healer I’m familiar with the most subtle changes in a person’s body. You sighed, but you also—how can I describe this—leaned into the bed as if you needed support or help. Had you been standing, you would have leaned against a wall or sat on the nearest seat. Do no worry we sisters will help you. We already love you for who you are. And after all, you will be Raeb’s wife.”

  Jessamyn held still, trying not to reveal her thoughts. Simon would take her home or to the convent if she asked, but she was not certain what she wanted.

  She finally turned to find Maeve studying her face and holding a robe in her extended hand. “You may sit up now.”

  Jessamyn donned the robe then sat on the edge of the bed.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Jessamyn was surprised to find that only a dull ache in her thigh remained. “My leg still hurts, but much less so.”

  Maeve nodded as she packed her unguents and lotions back into the basket. Then she bent a serious glance on Jess. “’Twill continue to pain you, for the cut was deep and the muscle cannot heal properly until the flesh has knit together. Once the scab forms and falls off the wound, I’ll treat the entire leg again. ’Twill cause the scar to fade into a faint line, and the muscles will remain supple instead of knotting around the scar.” She set a pot and a vial on the windowsill. “The process can take a long time unless you have someone who can help you tend the wound for a short time every night before you retire. Resting the leg is necessary while that treatment is done, so application before bed is best. Perhaps Raeb can help you when you are wed. For tonight I will give you a potion to help you sleep through the remaining pain. By morning you will be good as new.”

  “Thank you, Maeve, for all your kindnesses.”

  “You’re welcome.” The young woman moved toward the door. “I’ll leave the maids to assist you in dressing. When you are done, supper should be ready. I’ll see you in the main hall.”

  “Will my brother be there?”

  Pausing in the half-open doorway, Maeve nodded. “Before we could surround Raeb, he ordered your brother given a chamber on this level. Everyone was told to treat him as a respected guest. He is recovering nicely from the wound he received earlier, and if he is feeling able, he will certainly be present at supper.”

  Jessamyn slumped with relief. “Thank the Lord. I’m very eager to see Simon.”

  The woman smiled. “As I would be in your situation.”

  She left, closing the door behind her, and Jessamyn gave herself over to the care of the maids. She had to see Simon before Raeb did or said something foolish to her brother that would ruin both their lives.

  • • •

  With Simon Du Grace—his left arm in a sling—at his side, Raeb watched Jessamyn descend the stairs. Her expression was serene, but her hand as he took it was cold. When the greetings were done, Raeb escorted her to the dais. Her brother followed, escorting Neilina.

  “Simon has been telling me how you came by your thorough knowledge of horses and your skills as a rider. He claims you consistently defeated all challengers, save your father, and that most of the time you and Lord Du Grace ended those challenges in a tie.”

  Her smile trembled, as if she were uncertain how to respond. “My brother flatters me.”

  “Not so,” Simon objected from behind. “I would never do anything as insincere as to flatter a woman.”

  “So you would always tell a woman the truth?” Neilina queried.

  “I would not lie,” Simon said.

  Raeb pondered the question himself, for too many lies stood between him and Jessamyn. So many that he could not see his way clear to showing her his true feelings. Despite the intimacy of the past few days, she believed he didn’t want her. ’Twas nonsense of course. How could he accept the gift of her body if he didn’t want her? Yes, he’d done so with other women, but Jessamyn was not other women. How could he insist on marriage if he despised her? But no, because of words he’d uttered in haste and anger, she refused to listen to anything else. A thousand times he’d wished the words to Clarwyn unsaid, but that was impossible. It seemed changing Jessamyn’s mind was impossible too.

  “Hmm,” Neilina mused. “So you are no above deceiving your love by omission?”

  “Oh, no. You’ll not trap me there. We were speaking of women in general, not the woman I love,” Simon said.

  “And do you love a woman?”

  Raeb turned with Jessamyn to ascend the stair at the far side of the dais and did not hear Simon’s reply as he and Neilina moved to climb to the dais from the opposite side. But Raeb did look back at them. Neilina, his sober-faced champion of lost causes and defender of innocents, smiled and laughed at the English knight as if no other man had ever made a joke.

  Did he need to worry about the effect of Simon Du Grace’s honeyed courtliness on his sisters? Raeb knew from speaking with Simon privately the man had a smooth tongue but, the younger man had given the impression that books and Latin attracted him more than women. Such interests indicated a leaning toward the church, and therefore Neilina’s uncharacteristic interest seemed unwise.

  The man had also avowed no sworn involvement with the force Edward of England had sent to conquer Dungarob. Simon claimed he’d only been aboard the ship so he could witness his sister’s wedding and take back news of her well-being to her family.

  Raeb believed him. He had not wanted to, but even in his eloquence Simon was completely open on his thoughts about King Edward’s plans to steal Dungarob from its rightful owners and the king’s use of Jessamyn plus her dowry as a lure to bait the trap.

  “Raeb? Are you well?”

  Jessamyn’s voice intruded on his thoughts.

  “Huh,” he grunted, startled.

  “I asked if you are well.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “’Tis good to know, since you ignored my question each of the three times I asked it.”

  “I am sorry. I didna hear you. What did you ask?”

  “I asked if we could meet alone later to talk. We have much to resolve before we can move forward with … um … any plans.”

  Did she refer to their marriage or her wish to remain unwed? He loved her, but did she love him? ’Twas that which kept him from confessing his feelings to her. If he had doubts the least he could do would be to ask her straight out and listen to what she had to say, as he’d promised Clarwyn.

  “Aye,” he responded to her request at last. “I think ’tis a good idea for us to talk. But I have much to attend to before we may speak undisturbed.”

  “Very well. I shall meet you in the herb garden after compline.”

  “Sister,” Raeb addressed Neilina. “Tell us how you managed to overcome the English without a single life lost.”

  “Oh, ho,” S
imon remarked. “You have not yet heard the tale of the feast of prisoners?”

  “There were no prisoners at the feast,” objected Bridghe from farther down the table.

  “When they accepted the invitation to the MacKai table, those warriors simply did not yet know they’d place themselves in chains,” Simon said.

  “Enough.” Raeb thumped his fist on the table for emphasis and to call for silence. “Let Neilina tell us the tale. ’Tis she I asked.”

  Bridghe subsided, and all at the table turned to Neilina.

  She swallowed. “Well, ’twas Artis’s idea, really.”

  The youngest MacKai blushed. “When we saw all those ships and men in the harbor, I only said to Maeve that ’twas too bad we couldna have a party instead of a war.”

  Maeve smiled. “I know of an herb that increases the effect of ale and wine on the hardiest of men, so I went to Neilina with the idea to invite our visitors into the keep for a feast.”

  “I thought the idea a fine one,” Neilina said. “Especially if our garrison drank only water, and the English had all the ale and wine. But Dougal was reluctant to open the gates to so many soldiers on the thin promise of excessive drunkenness. He told me the English were no here to visit but to conquer us. He also said that other clans were supposed to help with the fighting, but that only MacTavish had arrived.”

  “MacTavish brought only eighty warriors,” Dougal supplied. “But even they would no have defeated the English without help. I spoke with him of Neilina’s idea, and the baron thought it a fine plan, especially if his warriors joined in after the English had begun drinking. Drunken men are easily defeated with little bloodshed.”

  “So to reduce the numbers inside the keep I had the idea,” Neilina resumed, “of having all the families in the village invite the sailors and foot soldiers while we only asked the knights to feast in the hall. Maeve had enough of the herb to share with all. Dougal suggested that once the English in the village were too drunk to fight, the MacKai men there should board the ships and conquer any guards. Then all of us would work together—MacKai, MacTavish, warriors, men, women, old and young, in village and keep—to restrain and imprison the drunkards.”