The Heir (The King's Cousins Book 2)
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Synopsis
Welcome to Book Two!
1340 A.D. – After his treasonous father's execution, Landon de Blays is raised alongside his cousin, the future King Edward III. Landon constantly fights to prove his own loyalty to the crown and becomes England's youngest knight. Rewarded for bravery in battle, the king gifts Landon with a title and estate, something he's longed for over the years as much as restoring his family's good name.
Cassiana Campion raises five brothers and nurses her ill father while managing Briarwood, her family's estate. When her father succumbs to old battle wounds and she receives news her last surviving brother has been killed in battle, Cassiana has nowhere to turn—until Landon de Blays arrives with a missive naming him the new Earl of Briargate—and Cassie's bridegroom.
The couple fall in love but are torn apart by circumstances beyond their control before their wedding can take place. Landon can live without an earldom and Briarwood but he can't conceive of a life without Cassiana. Will Landon unlock the secrets that can bring them back together?
Each book in The King's Cousins Trilogy is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Series Order:
Book #1: The Pawn
Book #2: The Heir
Book #3: The Bastard
For those who enjoy romance on the high seas, you might enjoy the standalone prequel to The King's Cousins Trilogy. GOD OF THE SEAS is part of the Pirates of Britannia World and features Godwin de Blays and Melisent Winchester, great-grandparents to Quill, Landon, and Katelyn.
Release date: February 27, 2019
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Print pages: 260
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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The Heir (The King's Cousins Book 2)
Alexa Aston
PROLOGUE
Blackstone Castle, Sussex—1325
Adelard de Blays watched his seven-year-old son slip out the postern gate at the rear of Blackstone Castle. Quill took a few steps and then looked over his shoulder, unsure if he should continue.
“Go ahead, Son,” the earl encouraged, his heart breaking, knowing it was the last time he would see the boy.
Quill ran back and hugged him tightly. “I don’t want to go,” he said, his voice quivering.
“You must. I told you why. Go,” he ordered. “Now. Before it’s too late.” The nobleman’s voice cracked on the last word.
His oldest child gave him a long look. “I won’t forget you, Father. Ever.” Quill released his grip and hurried away.
“Goodbye,” Adelard said softly as darkness gobbled up the boy all of Blackwell knew as his bastard.
Now, he must do what he could for his other two children before the royal troops arrived to whisk him away to the Tower.
Adelard picked up the lantern and hurried back to the keep. Landon and Katelyn would be in bed now, probably begging Sybil to tell them one more story before she blew out the candle and urged them to sleep. At least she had been a good mother to his other two children, though she’d done everything in her power to make Quill’s life unhappy. Still, he owed it to his countess to warn her of his impending arrest.
As he made his way across the empty bailey, Adelard’s thoughts turned to Cecily—his true wife. He had loved Cecily Elyot with every breath he took. Each time they’d coupled sent him to the heavens and beyond. He’d been ready to bring his bride to Blackstone Castle when his father’s missive arrived in London, informing Adelard of his oldest brother’s untimely death. As a third son, Adelard had been quiet and submissive anytime he was in the presence of his father. The title and lands would never be his and so he kept his head down and stayed out of sight as much as possible, a shadow in the background who avoided his father’s ire.
The missive changed everything.
By the time Adelard arrived at his family’s estate, he found the castle’s occupants in mourning for not one but two sons. Bardolf, the earl’s heir, had died from a sudden fever, which had swept through Blackwell lands and taken a dozen other lives at the castle. Gunter, the middle son, had died in a fall from his horse, the result of a foolish bet accepted while he was too drunk to know any better. Their steward had told Adelard that Gunter had drowned his sorrows from his brother’s death in drink. Knowing how close his brothers were to one another, he had wondered if Gunter died on purpose.
And so, Adelard, by default, had become his father’s heir.
Immediately, the earl announced that Adelard would wed Sybil, Bardolf’s betrothed. The couple would have married in a month’s time. With a few adjustments to the betrothal contracts, Adelard’s name replaced his brother’s. He had no experience in standing up to his father and had obediently gone ahead with the nuptial mass, sick with dread and worry. Shame filled him as he pledged before God Almighty and all gathered to bind himself in holy wedlock to a woman he had never met—thus abandoning his one true love and wedded wife.
Adelard entered the keep, passing the great hall where many had bedded down for the night. He ascended the steep stone steps and paused before the children’s bedchamber. His heart racing, he pushed the door open. As he’d expected, Sybil sat next to Katelyn’s bed. His false wife looked like a Madonna.
And was the Devil Incarnate.
Sybil de Blays had made his life miserable from the moment Adelard brought Quill home to Blackwell. In some ways, she was more intimidating than his father had ever been. The earl succumbed to apoplexy a mere week after Adelard and Sybil wed. If only he’d been strong and stood up to his father. Told him that he already had a wife he’d gotten with child. It might have made all the difference—then and now.
Regret washed over him anew as he ignored Sybil and moved toward the bed where his daughter slept. Katelyn’s dark lashes stood out against her pale skin. Adelard brushed a lock of raven hair from the five-year-old girl’s face and then kissed her cheek. He ached, knowing he would never see her beauty blossom, nor see his grandchild in her arms.
Katelyn stirred and blinked. “Father?” Her green eyes lit up.
Of his three children, he favored her most because of her spirit and zest for life. Ever curious, she followed her brothers about and demanded to do everything they did—and usually succeeded.
Adelard bent and kissed her brow. “Go to sleep, my little love.”
“Can we go riding tomorrow?” she asked, her eyelids already beginning to droop again.
“Aye,” he said, knowing for him there would be no more tomorrows.
“Good,” she murmured and grew still. Her small rosebud mouth parted slightly as her breathing became even.
Tucking the bedclothes around her, he looked to the empty bed next to Katelyn’s.
“Where is Landon?” he asked his wife softly.
Sybil eyed him with suspicion. “He went downstairs to retrieve his sword. He left it in the great hall. You know how he takes it everywhere with him. I could not get him to climb into bed unless I allowed him to fetch it.”
Adelard knew his time drew short and he still wanted to see his boy but he said to Sybil, “I’ve done something terrible. At least, that’s what others will say. You and the children will be the ones to suffer for it.”
Her brows shot up and he saw the hatred for him glittering in her dark eyes.
Before she could deride him, he said, “I won’t tell you what. The less you know, the better it might go for you. Just know that the king’s men are coming for me. They will be here shortly. Do your best to guard the children.”
Adelard wanted to slap the satisfied look from her face. Knowing Sybil, she would be like a cat and land on her feet, even if it used up one of her nine lives. He only prayed to the Blessed Virgin that she wouldn’t sacrifice Landon or Katelyn while trying to save herself.
“Farewell,” he said. “I am sorry I was not a better husband to you—but, in fact, I was no husband at all.”
He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes with his parting blow.
“What?” she hissed.
“No one knows, except for Walter,” Adelard said, a calm descending upon him as he finally spoke the truth in their last moments together. “He witnessed my marriage to Cecily Elyot in London. Quill is my legal son. Landon and Katelyn are the bastards.”
Sybil sprang from her chair and slapped him hard. Before he uttered another word, she raked her claws across his stinging cheek. Adelard grabbed both of her wrists.
“Enough,” he said harshly. “I know you will do what it takes to shield our children. No one need ever know.”
Her eyes blazed at him. “And your . . . other son?”
“Gone. You’ll never find him.”
With that, Adelard released her and strode from the room. He hurried down the dimly lit corridor, his heart racing at having finally told Sybil the truth. Returning downstairs, he spied Landon swinging his wooden sword just outside the great hall and stopped to watch him. Already, the boy had an athleticism and grace, moving as one with his toy weapon. Sadness and regret filled him, knowing he would not see this strong, sturdy boy grow to manhood.
Adelard grabbed his son, one he loved as much as his firstborn, and held him close as tears filled his eyes. His actions would cost this boy his earldom and all the Blackwell lands. He released Landon and then knelt, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders and squeezing tightly. Landon winced and tried to pull away, but Adelard held firm.
“You will hear many things about me in the coming years. Some of it even true. But whatever else, there’s only one thing you need to remember to the end of your days. I loved you with my last breath.”
Landon smiled. “I love you, too, Father.” Adoration was plainly written on his youthful face.
“Look after your sister,” Adelard urged and then tightened his grip. “And whatever happens, don’t tell them about your brother. Ever.”
“I promise. I’ll never tell, Father. Never.”
He withdrew the ruby brooch he’d taken from Sybil’s box of jewels and placed it in his son’s palm. Shaped as a dragon, it reminded Adelard of the stories his grandfather used to tell him about his pirate days on board Dragonstar. The brooch had been Godwin’s wedding gift to Melisent, Adelard’s grandmother. How he’d loved his grandparents and missed them every day since they’d passed over a score ago.
“Take this,” he instructed. “Keep it safe always. When the time comes, give it to the woman you love.”
The door to the keep slammed open and the king’s men marched in. Adelard kissed the top of Landon’s head and rose, a hand still on his son’s shoulder. Someone bellowed out orders as soldiers dispersed in every direction, flooding the great hall and racing up the steps. Two knights latched on to Adelard and tore him from Landon.
As they dragged him away and a representative of the king announced the charges against him, Adelard risked a last look over his shoulder.
Landon stood in the midst of the chaos, tears running down his cheeks. His son raised his toy sword high in a final salute. Adelard acknowledged the gesture with a nod and then turned away.
CHAPTER 1
Landon huddled in a corner of the king’s rooms, making himself as small as possible. He hoped the monarch would stay gone for the rest of the day. He’d heard one of the servants say the king and Despenser went hunting. If so, that would give him hours to be left in peace.
He’d been at the royal court four days now but it seemed like a lifetime. The soldiers who’d invaded Blackstone Castle had taken him and his father with them. He hadn’t been allowed to tell his mother farewell. Even now, Landon wondered what had happened to her and Katelyn.
And Quill.
Adelard de Blays’ last words had warned his son never to mention his half-brother. Landon would keep his promise. If the king and his men treated Landon this poorly, he couldn’t imagine what they would do to a bastard son.
That seemed like such an ugly word for such a good boy. Quill was not only Landon’s half-brother but his closest friend. Quill had a generous nature and shared anything he had freely with Landon and also Katelyn, when she accompanied them about the estate. Quill was kind and patient. Everyone liked him. Except for Landon’s mother. She never allowed Landon to even speak Quill’s name aloud. He understood that, somehow, his father had lain with another woman before his marriage and Quill was the result. It still didn’t make sense to Landon why his mother would hate Quill so much. When they were together, he made sure they stayed out of her way to avoid her wrath.
He missed his little sister more than he could have imagined. Katelyn followed him and Quill wherever they went. At times, Landon might hesitate trying something, whether it was making his horse run faster or jumping across a narrow portion of a brook. Katelyn proved fearless, no matter what the circumstance, and would bravely plunge ahead. He could keep his silence about Quill but he didn’t have a clue how he could protect Katelyn when he didn’t even know what had happened to her.
Landon did know what would happen to his father. The earl had done something terrible to offend the king—and Hugh Despenser. The man was always in the king’s company, eating with him and telling him stories. Landon didn’t like Despenser and the feeling was mutual. He’d humiliated Landon each day in ways small and large. It was why Landon now hovered in a corner. He hoped when the king returned with Despenser that neither of them would see him.
He wasn’t allowed to leave. He’d been told to stay. That they would soon decide what to do with him. Twice a day, a servant would take him to the garderobe so he could empty his bladder. Other than that, he had to remain where he was. They had given him something to wear since he’d been in his bedclothes when he arrived. They were filthy after the journey from Sussex to London.
Landon had caught a glimpse of his father after they’d passed through the city gates. Adelard de Blays was bound hand and foot and tied to a horse. He couldn’t see his father’s face and was glad. The knight Landon rode with had pointed to the earl and told Landon the next time he saw his father, de Blays would be a headless, disemboweled corpse. He hadn’t known exactly what disemboweled meant but he knew it couldn’t be good. Inside, he said prayers to the Blessed Virgin that death would come swiftly. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the man he worshipped suffer.
The door flew open and the king entered with Despenser close on his heels. Landon curled up and pushed himself against the wall, willing them not to see him.
The royal chamberlain laughed heartily. “Where’s the boy? I want to see the boy.”
Reluctantly, Landon pushed himself to his feet and came forward. He bowed to the king and stood motionless, his eyes downcast.
“Lord Adelard is dead, little boy,” Despenser said. “His head rests on a pike that the king had placed just outside the palace. That way everyone can see what happens to a traitor.” He paused. “Are you a traitor, Landon de Blays?” Despenser asked in honeyed tones.
“Nay,” he said, keeping his gaze focused on his feet.
“You look so like him,” Despenser continued. “We must see that you never become like him. Isn’t that right, your majesty?”
Landon dared to raise his eyes and saw the king studying him.
“He’s no traitor,” the king said, tilting his goblet up and drinking. “He’s a boy.”
“We have to make certain, though,” Despenser said.
Landon saw the venomous look in the man’s eyes.
“Our boots were muddied during the hunt. I think this . . . boy . . . should lick them clean.”
Despenser had been malicious but this was the worst he had asked.
“What do you think, your highness? Shall the boy clean our boots?”
Edward waved his hand in a gesture that could have been interpreted in various ways. His companion took it as meaning the king was in agreement.
“Start with mine, boy. Once you have perfected your technique, you may clean the king’s.”
Landon closed the gap between him and the older man and dropped to his knees. The boots before him were layered in mud, with bits of grass mixed in. He also smelled horse shit. He shuddered but kept quiet. Kneeling, he braced himself with his hands placed on either side of Despenser’s left boot.
And licked.
“The Prince of Wales has arrived, your highness,” a servant said.
“Bring him to me,” the king commanded.
“Why did you send for young Edward?” Despenser asked.
“I don’t want to leave the country to perform homage to Charles of France regarding Aquitaine.”
“The prince is only twelve years of age. Do you think him an adequate representative, your majesty?”
“It’s time he take on certain duties so he can become a man,” Edward replied. He paused and then said, “I’d rather stay here and hunt with you, Hugh. The barons are restless. I don’t think it wise for me to be in France and allow them time to plot against us.”
Landon continued his distasteful task. He sensed the arrival of the royal heir as he swallowed and kept to his task.
“Your majesty,” said the prince.
He recognized the younger Edward’s voice from a previous visit he’d made two days earlier. Landon forced the bile down as his mouth filled with more mud and shit.
“I am making you not only Earl of Chester but Duke of Aquitaine, my son. In that role, you will journey to Paris and join your mother. She’s there with my envoys, negotiating a peace with her brother, the King of France. You will perform homage to your uncle in regards to the Duchy of Aquitaine. I am informed the peace accord has been settled. You may sign on my behalf as the new duke. Afterward, you and your mother will return to England. Do you have any questions?”
“Nay, Father. Not about the French. I am eager to represent the crown in this matter and thank you for giving me such a great responsibility.” The prince paused. “May I inquire why this boy cleans the royal chamberlain’s muddy boots with his tongue?”
Despenser chuckled. “He’s doing a fair job of it. More practice will make him an expert, though.”
“Rise, de Blays,” the king commanded.
Landon pushed himself to his feet, aware of the filth that now covered his face. He kept his lips pressed tightly together, not wanting the prince to be offended by the muck coating his teeth and tongue. Giving a bow, he stared just to the side of the prince’s face, not daring to meet the older boy’s eyes.
“This is a cousin of yours, Edward, Landon de Blays. His father thought to commit treason against England with a small band of noblemen. Who knows? If not himself, Adelard de Blays might have tried to put this boy on the throne in your stead. Cousin Adelard’s head now rests on a pike. You may have seen it.”
“Nay, Father, I haven’t, but I, too, have boots that could use a thorough cleaning. This cousin of mine should do nicely.”
Landon’s eyes cut to the prince but he saw no malice on the older boy’s face. Instead, he saw intrigue. Standing firm, he kept his jaw clamped.
“Would you give me this cousin, Father? After all, he is family and quite young. I am sure I can dispel any notions of grandeur that Lord Adelard might have given him. ‘Tis best to keep an enemy close and turn him into an ally instead.”
His heart began beating wildly. Something told Landon that this cousin of his would not mistreat him. Still, he stood stoically, not knowing whether the king would agree or not.
“An excellent idea,” the monarch said. “The boy is only six. He should prove malleable enough. Take him to France with you then. I’m tired of him being underfoot.”
Victory sparked in Prince Edward’s eyes. “Thank you, Father. I will represent you well in Paris.” He moved and kissed his father’s hand and then looked to Landon.
“Come along, Cousin.”
Without waiting, the young prince strode from the room. Landon quickly followed him. His only regret was that he couldn’t stop to spit what sat in his mouth in Despenser’s face. The king’s rooms were vast and it took some minutes to reach the corridor. The prince sailed through the two lines of royal guards and Landon made sure he was close enough that he wouldn’t be swallowed by the soldiers.
Turning to the left, the prince kept to a brisk pace before he stopped and threw open a window.
“Spit out as much as you can,” he commanded.
Wide eyed, Landon stepped to the window and used his tongue to push out the excess muck in his mouth. He took his fingers and scraped his tongue and then wiped them on the borrowed clothes that were too large and now smelled like manure.
The prince nodded agreeably and closed the window. Landon followed him once more until they reached another wing of the palace. They entered a suite of rooms, where a horrified servant looked at Landon, his mouth gaping wide.
“Bring hot water. My cousin needs a bath,” Edward said pleasantly. “And send for my tailor. He needs a new wardrobe and I, too, am in need of something elegant to wear to the French court.”
When the servant stood rooted to the spot, the prince firmly said, “Now,” and the man scurried away.
“Come this way, Landon.”
He followed the royal to another room, where a lavish meal had been set out. His stomach gurgled noisily at the sight.
“I’m sure they haven’t been feeding you well,” the prince noted. “You can eat and drink in a moment. First, let’s clean you up some.”
Edward led him to a basin of water that would be used for washing hands before a meal. “Go ahead. Plunge your face into it.”
Landon did as instructed and rubbed his face while it remained in the water. He raised his head, water dripping down the front of him, as the prince reached for a linen cloth set on the table.
“Use this to wipe away the dirt,” he suggested.
Once more, Landon did as he was told, hardly believing his good luck.
“Come and sit. After you eat and drink, the water will have arrived for your bath.”
“But . . . this is your food, your grace.”
“I’m not that hungry. Go ahead.”
Landon sat and though he tried to use good manners, he found himself shoving food into his mouth. Ashamed of his behavior, he stopped and dropped his hands to his lap.
Edward, who’d taken the seat opposite him, said, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Cousin. Despenser is the one who should feel contrite. He is a greedy, evil man. I am sorry he is so closely associated with my father. Has he mistreated you in other ways?”
“Aye, your grace.” Landon thought it best not to elaborate.
“No more worrying about Hugh Despenser. You are in my care now. I will teach you what is important. The things a good man needs to know.” A shadow crossed his face. “I met your father before. I am sorry that he got caught up in a plot against the crown.”
Landon sensed his cheeks burning, shame filling him. “Father was always good to me and my sister.” It was all he could say. He had no words to explain how the man he loved was the same one who’d done such terrible things.
The prince leaned closer. “You have a sister?”
“Aye. Katelyn is five.”
“My father would not harm a child so young, especially a girl. She is safe, wherever she is. When the time is right, I will also take her under my wing. Would you like that, Landon?”
Relief flooded him. “I would.”
Soon, the bath water arrived and the prince supervised two servants as they scrubbed Landon from head to toe. Clothes had been found for him. The tailor also arrived and measured him. The prince told the tailor they would be leaving for Paris in two days’ time and he wanted several new changes of clothes for his young cousin, as well as something he could wear to meet King Charles.
“Mother says that my uncle pays close attention to details, so spare no expense,” Edward instructed.
After the tailor left, Landon began yawning. He tried to cover it, only to hear Edward laugh.
“You’ve had a trying week, Cousin Landon. It’s time for bed.”
The prince led him to a room with an enormous bed.
“A dozen people could sleep in that!” he exclaimed.
“Well, only two of us tonight,” the prince quipped.
“I’m . . . to sleep . . . with a prince?” Landon asked, overwhelmed.
Prince Edward placed his hands on Landon’s shoulders. “A time is coming when I will need people loyal to me. The nobility throughout England rumbles in displeasure at the power both Despensers have at court and over the king. They have stolen lands and fortunes from too many to count. Their day of reckoning is coming. When it occurs, I will need to step forward and lead.
“Blood is blood, Cousin. Can I count on you to be by my side when I claim England’s throne?”
Landon fell to his knees in order to show his gratitude. “I am your loyal servant. Always,” he said vehemently.
“I will hold you to that vow, young Landon de Blays, both now and in our future.”
CHAPTER 2
Briarwood Castle, Northumberland—June, 1340
Cassiana Campion, daughter of the Earl of Briargate, finished her evening meal. Turning to her brother, Tobyn, she stared for a moment, wondering if she would lose him as she had all of her other siblings.
As the oldest Campion child, she had watched her mother give birth to a dozen children. Only Cassiana and five sons survived. Her mother, who’d grown weaker after each birth, had died moments after birthing a final daughter, who followed her mother to Heaven moments later. That meant, at twelve, Cassiana became mother to five little boys. She had bathed them. Played with them. Sewn their clothes. Taught them to ride and hunt and even read.
And then watched four of them die.
Two passed away from fevers in childhood. Another two came home from the border wars with Scotland with injuries too severe to survive. No matter how much she nursed them and implored the Virgin to intercede on their behalf, Cassiana had watched both slip away.
Now, only Tobyn survived. Her brother would leave in the morning with thirty of Briarwood’s best men, marching to Berwick-upon-Tweed to join up with Sir Robert Morley. The nobleman had assembled fifty merchant ships that would join those of King Edward’s. The king would lead this fleet across the North Sea to the English Channel, where they would unite with Morley’s northern ships and then attack France.
Cassiana hoped her brother would live through any battle at sea and subsequent ones on land. It was important for the Campion heir to return home since he was their last hope for the line continuing at Briarwood.
“Tobyn, I will see to Father’s meal now,” she told her brother. “You can come say your goodbyes to him in half an hour.”
He nodded, lost in thought. Cassiana knew Tobyn had to be thinking about previous battles in Scotland and his brothers’ deaths, wondering if he would return to Northumberland.
She wondered the same.
Stopping in the kitchen, she retrieved a tray for her father, knowing he would eat little of the food on it. His appetite had never been strong since he’d become bedridden five years ago, suffering deep wounds in his back and leg in the same battle that had cost him two of his sons. Since that day, Cassiana had served as both Earl and Countess of Briargate, though she held neither title. When her mother passed on, Cassiana had not only become mother to five sons but she’d taken on all responsibilities held by her mother. She’d learned to rule the keep with a firm hand, wise beyond her years, doing a better job than those double her age.
Once her father took to his bed and it was obvious he would never leave it, she’d also taken up the mantle of earl and seen to his duties regarding their estate, both its tenants and soldiers. At first, her authority was questioned, due to her youth and status as a woman. Soon, though, the people of Briarwood found her more than competent. Under Cassiana’s direction, the lands flourished and the soldiers became even more prepared than before. It wasn’t unusual to find her in the training yard, demonstrating ways to better use weapons, since her father had insisted she learn to handle a sword and mace as her brothers did. As a woman, she had trained longer and harder than any man and her skills reflected the many hours of practice.
She’d also taken over supervising every aspect of the estate, from handling the harvests to bringing new tenants to Briarwood to purchasing additional horses. In effect, she served as both master and mistress of Briargate, holding it in trust for Tobyn since her father no longer could perform the tasks necessary to make his estate thrive.
In a way, she was slightly resentful of Tobyn, who’d been gone for many years, fostering in another Northumberland household some distance from home. He’d gone away at seven, returning for short visits over the years, while Cassiana never left the land except for short journeys to Berwick-upon-Tweed, where she bought supplies and sold livestock. She’d been the one her father turned to when he couldn’t leave his bed and she’d seen that Briarwood was run efficiently. She was the one who knew the names of every person on the estate, from soldiers to servants to children of their tenants. When Tobyn returned a month ago having earned his knighthood at a score and one, he only remembered a few of those present, and he hadn’t seemed interested in estate matters. In fact, he’d told her how he looked forward to leaving England to fight the French.
Cassiana supposed with the delicate nature of her father’s health, Tobyn might return from battle to find himself the Earl of Briargate.
If he returned . . .
She shrugged off the thought. She loved her brother and would pray for his safe return day and night. Still, when Tobyn did come home for good, he would seek a wife and wish to run Briarwood as he saw fit. That left no place for Cassiana. The new countess would not want her sister-in-law hovering in the shadows, resentful of how the people would look to Cassiana for a decision and not their countess. Tobyn would want to put his own mark on the land, too, and not have his older sister instructing him in what to do.
But, where would that leave her?
She’d flirted briefly with Sir Tarquin Grosbeck, one of their many knights. A handsome man whose sword skills rivaled any she’d seen, Tarquin had stolen a few kisses from her when they’d met in the stables. Cassiana had hoped for more but his kiss left her empty. The knight had hinted at wanting to wed her once their men returned from France but she didn’t think it wise. Even if Tobyn granted them a cottage of their own on the estate, she would still be underfoot and might be considered a hindrance. She would never want to undermine Tobyn and his wife as they built their own family and he settled in as the earl but Cassiana could see how torn their people might be if she remained.
The best thing would be for her to seek a marriage with a man far from Briarwood, with no ties to the area. She supposed she must ask Tobyn to arrange this upon his return from France.
Again, an unsettled feeling overwhelmed her. What if her brother succumbed to death as all of her other siblings had? The king would name a new earl to step in once her father passed. Cassiana hadn’t worked tirelessly for so many years only to see the estate turned over to a stranger. Tobyn must return home. He must.
She entered the solar and then her father’s bedchamber. Placing the tray on a nearby table, she helped him to sit up and plumped the pillows behind him. His pallor was gray. He gave her a feeble smile.
“How is my favorite daughter?” he asked.
“I’m your only daughter,” she answered, not bothering to hide her smile.
“And always my favorite of all of my children,” he said honestly. “I know what you have put into Briarwood, Cassiana. You have run every aspect of it. I only wish you could become the earl upon my death and not Tobyn.”
She sat on the bed next to him and lifted the tray into his lap. “Hush, Father. That’s foolish talk. England will never have a woman become an earl. Besides, Tobyn is a knight now. I’ve watched him in the training yard. His skills have come a long way, especially in the last few years. He may need to work on being interested in things beyond warfare, but he will defend the estate and its people.”
He gave her a sad look. “What if your brother doesn’t come back from the French campaign? Like the others? What will happen to Briarwood—and you?”
She squeezed his forearm. “I have sent so many prayers to the Virgin regarding Tobyn’s well-being that she would be foolish to ignore me. Please, Father, don’t worry. Not about me. Not about Tobyn. Especially not about our people.”
They visited for a while as he attempted to eat, discussing her day and a new mare that had given birth that afternoon. Then Syndor entered the bedchamber. The servant had helped Cassiana care for her father—bathing and dressing him, bringing him his meals, and spending time with him so that he wouldn’t grow lonesome. The earl never appeared downstairs anymore. Usually, it was only the two of them that were allowed to see him. Her father was embarrassed to be seen as he was now, old before his time and helpless. She even cleaned his chamber so that no other servants bothered him.
“My lord, your son wishes to visit you. May I bring him in?”
Though Cassiana knew her father had grown tired from her visit and trying to eat, she knew it was important for both men to have a final conversation before Tobyn went off to war in the morning.
She patted his arm. “I’ll let you and Tobyn talk privately.”
“Nay, Daughter. Stay,” he begged.
“If you wish.” She seated herself in a chair across the room so that Tobyn could sit in the one near the bed.
Syndor left and returned moments later with Tobyn. He’d only visited with his father twice since he’d returned to Briarwood. Her brother shuffled in, looking uncomfortable as he took a seat. Her father reached out and grasped his son’s hand. It bothered Cassiana when Tobyn didn’t bother to hide his look of disgust. Her brother had never tolerated being around anyone who was sick or frail. She supposed it went back to childhood and watching their two younger brothers cling to life. Tobyn had no patience for illness then. Nothing had changed since that time.
“You go to war with Morley,” the earl said softly.
Tobyn sighed impatiently. “I do. The king is said to have more than three hundred vessels at his command. Most ships will be small, with a crew of five or so, but they will carry another fifteen archers and soldiers.”
“I know you look forward to fighting our enemies. I am proud you do so, my son. I only ask that you be wary at all times.”
Tobyn’s brows shot up. “You think I am not alert in a fight?”
“Nay, I know you are. You have fought against the Scots for several years. This will be different, though.”
“How?” Tobyn demanded.
“Because you are my last son. I need you to be cautious so you will return to Briarwood. I fear I won’t last much longer. Our people need you, Tobyn.”
“They have Cassiana,” he snapped. “She runs everything effortlessly.”
His words wounded her for she heard the sarcasm laced in his sharp tone.
“It sounds as if you are jealous of your sister.”
Tobyn shook off his father’s hand. “Nay. I am a knight of the realm—and your heir. She is but a weak woman.”
Her father’s face grew red with rage. He pushed up on his elbows and leaned toward his only son. “Cassiana has had to be all things to all people, Tobyn. She has never been weak. Do not disrespect her.” The effort exhausted him and he fell back against the pillows.
Tobyn shot to his feet, dismay on his face. “I do not hold her in disdain. I know how capable she is. There isn’t anything Cassiana cannot do. Farewell, Father,” he said brusquely. “I will see you upon my return from France.”
Her brother fled the bedchamber.
“Go after him,” the earl urged. “Make peace with him if you can. He is resentful of you and all that you’ve accomplished. You’ve done more than ten men could have, my dear. Tobyn lashes out because he is unsure if he can live up to your high standards.”
Cassiana crossed the bedchamber and kissed his wrinkled cheek, worried about his shortness of breath. At least the angry red that had flooded his face now faded.
“Goodnight, Father. I will see you in the morning.”
She hurried from the solar and found Tobyn pacing the corridor. Immediately, her brother halted and looked contrite.
“I’m sorry, Cassiana,” he began. “You know that I love you.”
“But?”
He laughed. “You are so difficult to live up to. You still swing a sword better than I ever will. Our people love and respect you. I’ll admit it. I’m envious of you and all you’ve done during my years away from home.” Tobyn grew serious. “But Briarwood is my home. It’s not large enough for the two of us. I realized that the moment I returned and saw how revered you are. How you’ve taken charge. Not only as a woman inside the keep but as a man would his entire castle and estate.”
“Father’s injury kept him from much that he longed to do,” she said. “I merely stepped in to carry out his duties.”
“And you’ve done them better than he—or I—ever could.” Tobyn sighed. “I will never grow to become the man I need to be with you always looking over my shoulder.”
She took his hand. “I realize that, Brother. I will keep Briarwood safe for you while you are away fighting our enemies. You can trust me to do so. I will also ask you to look for a husband for me. When you return, it will be time for me to leave and you to wed, as well. Find a good man for me, Tobyn. One I can respect.”
He grinned, his good humor returning. “I’ll find you a rich one, Cassiana. One with a huge estate. He’ll be smart and handsome and give you plenty of children. You’ll have as many as Mother had. Nay, more!”
That gave her pause. Cassiana feared three things. One, was bearing children. She assisted her mother many times as she gave birth and saw the agony involved. Between the physical pain and the knowledge that so many babes died, it made her wary of childbirth—and that meant the marital act that brought about those children, as well.
She also feared that if she wed, she would lose her independence. For too many years, she had proven capable at whatever she tried. If regulated to only a few domestic duties, she might go mad.
The last thing she feared was one she could never admit aloud.
Losing control of Briarwood.
It had taken her many years to create something special at her family’s home, first in the keep itself, and then as she expanded her authority throughout the castle and beyond. Though she had admitted it no one, not even herself, she didn’t want to leave. Instinct told her, though, that for Tobyn to succeed, she must be far away and not influence their people in any way.
Cassiana gave him a lukewarm smile. “I already raised five sons. I’m not sure I have it in me to raise a dozen more.”
“Is that how many Mother had? It’s hard to remember. So many of them were lost.” Tobyn shook his head. “I was never good with numbers. No matter how many times you tried to teach me my sums, I couldn’t remember from one moment to the next. If you choose not to wed, Sister, you could always become a steward and help run a vast estate somewhere,” he teased.
If only she could . . .
“Get some sleep, Tobyn,” she urged, hugging him briefly.
“I’m sorry I was so churlish to you and Father. I want to leave with things right between us. Are they?”
She gazed at him fondly. “They are. No need to worry. I bid you goodnight.”
Tobyn kissed her cheek and then entered his bedchamber. Cassiana should do the same but knew her restlessness would cause her to toss and turn. Instead, she decided to visit Tressa. Nothing could ease her mind more than spending time with her horse, brushing the bay’s coat and sharing her day. She stopped to collect an apple from the kitchen before heading to the stables.
The bailey was still, blanketed by silence on this cool June night. She arrived at the stables and went to Tressa’s stall. Her horse nickered softly in greeting and Cassiana rewarded her with the apple. The horse nibbled daintily at the treat. Once she finished, Cassiana decided to brush the animal. As she reached to open the stall door, arms went around her waist from behind and she stiffened.
A voice in her ear said, “I was hoping you might come to see me off, my lady.”
She turned and saw Tarquin smiling at her.
“Shouldn’t you be abed?”
“Not when I can kiss you,” he replied.
His lips brushed against hers. Once more, Cassiana felt nothing. She opened her mouth to tell him they had no future but he took it as a further invitation. Suddenly, his tongue thrust forcefully inside her mouth, causing her to gag.
Pushing him away, she demanded. “What was that?”
The knight gave her a lazy grin. “Just another way to kiss, Cassiana.”
He had never called her by her name before. She definitely needed to put a stop to this.
“Sir Tarquin, I know—”
“I know how much I want you,” he said, his hands spanning her waist, yanking her close.
“I must tell you that my father and brother plan to betroth me to a nobleman.” She hoped that news would make him release her but his hands remained where they were.
“When?”
“As soon as Tobyn returns from France.”
He chuckled. “What if your brother proves as unlucky as the rest of your siblings? What then?”
“Don’t say such things. ‘Tis bad luck,” she warned.
Tarquin squeezed her waist. “Answer me. What if Sir Tobyn doesn’t come back?”
Cassiana hesitated and then said, “The king would name a new earl for Briargate upon Father’s death.”
“Which is imminent,” the knight pointed out casually. “You need to urge him now, while he’s still alive and of sound mind, to petition the king to allow you to control Briarwood.” He looked at her steadily. “And I will be your husband. Together, we can rule.”
The gleam in his eyes finally told her what she’d missed before. Tarquin Grosbeck didn’t find her attractive. His flattery had a purpose. He was enchanted not with her but in becoming the next liege lord of Briargate. The knight might have complimented her with pretty words but it was all to disarm her from his true purpose—wedding her and taking charge of the estate. He’d told her he was a fourth son and would never have land of his own.
Unless he wed a woman who possessed it.
Cassiana grabbed his wrists and forced them from her body. She didn’t want his hands on her ever again.
“Tobyn will return and take over as earl once my father passes. I will wed another man. Not you, Tarquin.” She crossed her arms protectively in front of her. “I wish you the best in France and in life but I cannot be your wedded wife.”
With that, Cassiana stormed from the stables.
She had thought the knight cared for her but he merely wanted the estate. Not only would it be wise for her to leave Briarwood when Tobyn returned from war, but she would be relieved never to see Tarquin Grosbeck again. Cassiana didn’t know her heart could hurt but it did. Though she didn’t have strong feelings for Tarquin, she had thought he did for her. Now that she knew he only used her, she felt foolish.
She swore she would never be used by a man again.
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