In medieval times honorable men had to do what was required of them by the kings to whom they were loyal...
Thomas Lancaster, a widower with bad memories of marriage and a young son he barely knew was a hardened knight loyal to his king. In reward for his efforts fighting in the Crusades, King Edward gave him Middlemound Castle to hold for the crown. But the king decreed that he must marry the beautiful young widow of the castle's previous lord.Lady Gloriana Stewart had suffered brutally in her first marriage and had no desire to marry again. Yet she had no choice. She had to protect her people and obey her king.
All she wanted was for her new husband to give her a baby.
Having already lost one wife in childbirth, Thomas refused to even consider it.
Sir Rowan Montgomery, Thomas's first knight, friend, and lover complicated the situation even more. Thomas didn't want to give up Rowan and Gloriana didn't want to admit she had feelings for her husband and for Rowan.
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Middlemound Castle, England, June 1272
“Riders come, my lady! Two of them,” a guard called down from the parapet to Gloriana where she stood in the gardens. “They bear the King’s banner.”
She raised her head toward the guard and felt chills spiraling up her spine. News. Bad news. She sensed it to her soul. “Allow…” She had to clear her throat before she could finish. “Allow them entry.”
The two maids working with her to gather vegetables looked worriedly at her. One of them hurried to her side. “Are ye all right, my lady?”
No. She was far from being all right, but she refused to show weakness to her servants. They’d witnessed enough of that in the past. She forced a reassuring smile and handed the younger woman the basket she’d been holding. “I’m fine, really. ‘Twas just a surprise.”
With that said she walked around the corner of the keep and heard the unusual silence in the bailey. She noted the dozen or so soldiers who had been training there now stood still, tense and cautious. All had heard rumors from traveling tinkers that the last battle of the Crusade had ended. All were awaiting the return of their lord and the men who had gone off to fight with him. Like her, though, none were overly eager to have Geoffrey Stewart back. He was a hard man, cruel and vicious at times…especially to her. No, she did not look forward to hearing news that her husband of barely three years would soon be home.
Her red-haired bailiff Sir Gerald strode toward her. He’d become her fierce protector during her second difficult year with Geoffrey and had often dared to come between his lord and her. She’d worried that Geoffrey would one day lose the last of his patience and kill the man, and that worry returned now at seeing her knight’s expression.
“He will not harm you again, my lady,” Gerald vowed. His nostrils flared and cords stood out in his thick neck.
“You must not put yourself in harm’s danger, Sir Gerald.” She held her chin high, tried to keep from showing the tremble of alarm spreading through her. “Your lord would never truly hurt me.” ‘Twas a lie and they both knew it. He’d seen her bruised face on occasion; he’d seen her walk gingerly after yet another sound lashing. Yet it wasn’t the beatings that hurt her the most. No, her husband flayed her even worse with his harsh tongue.
Gerald’s brow furrowed and his gaze darkened. She noticed the way his hands fisted at his sides. But before he could respond, they were interrupted by the pounding of hooves across the wooden drawbridge.
Gloriana stiffened her spine, prayed her knees would not fail her, and waited for whatever news the messengers were to deliver.
The small contingent of soldiers in chainmail and bearing the king’s banner rode between the rows of silent men straight to her. She fought against rubbing her nervous stomach and sucked in a breath to calm her racing heart as she ran her clammy hands over the sides of her gown.
She watched as Gerald stepped forward and stopped next to the lead soldier. Both men nodded in acknowledgment. Without saying a word, the man extended a rolled parchment. “You may find food and ale in the hall,” Gerald offered. He waved a page over. “Tend to their horses.”
The men glanced toward Gloriana. She had to swallow down a lump of distress before she could force a hint of lightness to her tone. “Please go inside, as Sir Gerald said. The maids will see that you are fed and given drink.”
The tension eased from the soldiers’ expressions and they began dismounting. Her own men watched in continued silence. She wished they would go about their business again, but she knew they were waiting for her to read the message. They waited to be told the news that might affect the castle.
As the king’s soldiers moved away, Gerald extended the parchment toward her. She shook her head. Her hands were trembling too much, her thoughts scattering in fear of hearing that her husband would be here within a day or two. She wasn’t ready to see him again, even if she had no choice. “Nay, I would ask you to read it to me.”
He glanced around. Gloriana was aware the silence remained heavy around them. Nearby soldiers, villagers, and servants waited for the news the king’s men had brought.
“Please,” she prompted, her voice quavering.
With a nod of acceptance, he untied the parchment. The paper crinkled loudly as he unrolled it. His eyes widened as he read it over quickly and then frowned at her. “’Tis two items of importance, my lady. Are you sure you don’t wish to read it yourself?”
She shook her head, then commanded, “Read it.”
He pulled in a breath and said with grimness, “Lord Middlemound will not be returning, my lady. He died over a month ago in the battles.”
Gloriana’s knees gave out in her shock and one of the nearest soldiers hurried to steady her. “Not returning? Dead?” The words left her mouth in a whisper. Relief filled her instead of sadness. But that was wrong. She would beg forgiveness for such an awful sin in her prayers later.
A quiet hum began around the bailey as word spread quietly but speedily of their lord’s death. She sensed relief from her people as well. She could pick out not one word of unhappiness or regret in the soft din of voices. How very sad it was that one should die and no one expressed sadness at the death. But, there it was, Geoffrey Stewart had been a man no one would miss. Certainly not her.
Gerald caught her attention once more and said with clear unhappiness, “King Edward has decreed that you will marry Lord Montrose upon his arrival at Middlemound. He is travelling here with his men and with Lord Middlemound’s men.”
The buzz around her became louder as the additional news spread. She heard the mixed opinions, sensed the mixed emotions. She’d seen Lord Montrose once at Edward’s court. What she remembered was a big man, even taller and brawnier than Geoffrey. He’d had striking dark blue eyes and a hardened look to his handsomely carved face. Yet not one of the women who’d danced at the ball with him appeared to fear him. No, most all but drooled over him. She, of course, had been with Geoffrey and had not danced with him, nor even been allowed very close to him.
Gerald watched her. “Lord Montrose is a fierce warrior, I’ve heard. They say he’s the very devil in battle, but a good leader.”
A devil in battle…fierce warrior. Nerves twisted and twined in her stomach. Geoffrey had been fierce, too. A devil as well.
“Those who have sworn allegiance to bear a sword at his side do so with pride.” His awe toward the man rang clear in his words and in his eyes. “He was widowed long ago and has a son. Fostered out by now, I’m sure.”
He shifted uneasily. “I’ve never heard that he treats a woman poorly.”
Again she thought of the man she’d seen at court, a man that none of the ladies had seemed to fear. Dare she hope… Gerald’s unspoken promise replayed in her mind, “He will not treat you poorly.”
It was a lot to take in: learning she was widowed and betrothed again in the same moment.
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