Medieval Ever After (45 page)

“Pembury,” he greeted, his voice deep and quiet.

Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “De Velt, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. I see that you are alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you.”

De Velt actually grinned. “My apologies,” he replied. “I have been very busy trying to secure Berwick. I forgot you were out in the yard.”

Stephen had an expression on his face that let the man know without benefit of words that he knew he was lying. “I would not expect you to treat a prisoner with honor.”

De Velt’s smile faded as he studied Stephen, plotting what to say next. Having only seen Stephen twice in his life, he knew of Pembury by reputation only, knowing he was one of the more powerful knights in the arsenal of King Edward and one of the tallest knights in England. He had been both pleased and surprised to have captured the man called Guardian Protector during the siege of Berwick and his commanders had told him to keep the man alive until they decided what was to be done with him. Now the decision was made and that directive had come this morning, directly from Moray. The news was not good.

After a moment, de Velt exhaled wearily and looked around for a chair. One of his men shoved a stool at him and he pulled it up, seating his big body heavily. Only then did he look at Joselyn, curled up against her husband. He lifted an eyebrow at her.

“What is the wench doing here?” he asked, not kindly.

Stephen replied before Joselyn could voice her outrage. “This is not a wench,” he was beginning to sound perturbed. “This is my wife, the Lady Joselyn de Velt Seton Pembury, and her father is Alexander Seton. Perhaps you have heard of him.”

De Velt stared at her. Then he looked around to the crowd behind him, jabbing a finger at Joselyn.

“Why did no one tell me that she was here?” he demanded, suddenly bolting up from the stool and using it like a weapon to crown the man nearest him. “Did no one think to tell me that Pembury’s wife was here?”

Men were getting smacked around and Joselyn screamed, pressing herself against Stephen and turning her head away as one man took the stool in the mouth and blood sprayed. Stephen put his enormous hand over her head, holding it against his chest to protect her as de Velt swung away. Even Kynan ducked away as de Velt beat his men. But as swiftly as it started, the violence stopped and de Velt set the stool back down, reclaiming his seat.

De Velt exhaled sharply, collecting himself, as he returned his focus to Joselyn. She was still clutched against Stephen’s chest, her pale blue eyes peering out of the safety of his protective hand. When her eyes met de Velt’s, he smiled at her.

“Lady Pembury,” he said, sounding calm. “I was unaware you were here. You were not here during the battle, were you?”

Joselyn looked at Stephen, who removed his hand from her head and answered for her. “Nay,” he said quietly.

“Then how did she get here?”

“I rode from Forestburn yesterday,” Joselyn found her tongue, thinking that it would be a good time to ask for her husband’s freedom now that she had de Velt’s attention. “As the daughter of Alexander Seton, I demand that you free my husband. If you release him, the king has promised to release my father.”

Stephen looked at her sharply, wondering what in the hell she was doing making that kind of proposal. Edward would surely never agree to anything like that and he cursed under his breath at her bold foolishness. De Velt, however, never took his eyes from her, becoming increasingly interested in the very beautiful young woman before him. If he thought her proposition was ridiculous, he didn’t let on.

“You are a de Velt,” he said after a moment, completely ignoring her offer.

Joselyn nodded. “My mother was the daughter of Micah de Velt, Lord Carham.” She pointed to Kynan, standing over by the door. “Kynan is my cousin. His mother and my mother were sisters.”

De Velt nodded, glancing back at Kynan. “Are you the one who admitted her to Berwick without my knowledge?”

Kynan shook his head. “The guards did that. I happened tae see her in the bailey and brought her in here fer her own safety.”

De Velt digested that, understanding a little more of the lady’s mysterious appearance, before returning his focus to Joselyn. “Micah was my father’s brother,” he told her. “Micah was the oldest of fourteen children and I am sorry to say that I do not keep track of all of my kin. But It would seem that you and I are related, Lady Pembury.”

“And Kynan, too.”

He nodded slowly. “And Kynan, too.”

Joselyn was not sure if that was a good or bad thing. She pushed herself off of her husband and rose, smoothing her gown and trying to convey a somewhat presentable and collected appearance. She didn’t want to come across like a groveling wife, as de Lara had warned her. She wanted to present a strong, determined front.

“Since we are related, I would ask you, as my kin, to please release my husband,” she said firmly. “He is injured and I wish to take him someplace safe where he can heal.”

De Velt scratched his head, inspecting Lady Pembury’s delicious figure beneath her soft yellow surcoat. She had luscious full breasts and he found himself staring at them.

“I am not sure that is possible, lady,” he replied. “I understand that Pembury hanged your brothers as you and your family watched from the battlements. Is this true?”

Joselyn looked stricken, struggling not to appear off balance. “My brothers were hanged,” she confirmed. “But Stephen did not personally do it. He has, in fact, done many wonderful things for me and my family since the event of our marriage. He is a good man.”

De Velt looked at Stephen. “She lives in a dream world where you can do no wrong,” he said. “You will tell me the truth, Pembury. Did you personally hang her brothers?”

Stephen sighed faintly, looking up at Joselyn, who was now staring back at him with some fear. He averted his gaze, thinking carefully on his answer.

“I was Thomas’ guard the entire time he was Edward’s hostage,” he replied quietly. “He was a fine young man who never stopped believing that his father would seek his freedom. When Alexander Seton did not honor the terms of the hostage agreement, it was my duty to present the boy to the executioner.”

De Velt’s gaze was riveted to him. “Ever the obedient knight,” he said, bordering on sarcasm. “Did you put the noose over his neck?”

Stephen’s blue eyes were intense. “Nay,” he replied hoarsely. “Tommy did it himself, weeping as he did so, because his father had failed him. The boy put that noose on his own neck and stepped off the scaffold under his own accord. None of us had to make a move because the boy took his own life.”

Joselyn suddenly turned away, weeping softly, and Stephen reached out to put a comforting hand on her. De Velt’s gaze was intense on Stephen.

“Many Scots witnessed this hanging,” he said. “I have not heard mention of that particular version.”

“As if they would tell you,” Stephen’s gaze was equally intense. “I would not lie to you.”

“I believe you,” de Velt said in a surprising show of reassurance. “You are a man of honor from what I am told. I would not expect you to lie to me to save yourself.”

By this time, Joselyn was wiping her tears away, struggling to put the details of Tommy’s death aside. There would be another time to grieve for her little brother. Squaring her shoulders, she faced de Velt with resolve.

“I want my husband released,” she told him. “He has told you that he did not hang Tommy or Willie. His only crime is that he fought for the English king. He is Alexander Seton’s son-in-law and you will let him go.”

De Velt looked at her, the manner in which his eyes drifted over her body causing her skin to crawl. Stephen saw it and he stiffened with outrage but made no move against de Velt. Injured as he was, he knew he would not last long in a fight. If he was going to attack the man, then let it be for something more than a lascivious glance.

“Alas, my lady, I cannot,” de Velt replied after a long, lustful moment. “I have come to tell your husband that I received orders from the Earl of Moray this morning. It would seem that the earl is to make an example out of your husband to show the English what will happen if they make another attempt to capture Berwick.”

Joselyn’s blood ran cold. Her heart began to pound and her body to shake. She could feel Stephen grasping her by the wrist, pulling her over to him. As he put his massive arm around her, she struggled against him. She was not interested in being held at the moment. She wanted de Velt to clarify himself.

“An example?” she repeated, both angry and terrified. “What does that mean? What foolishness is this?”

De Velt shook his head. “No foolishness at all, I assure you,” he replied without a hint of distress in his voice. “Your husband is an enemy of Scotland and all enemies of Scotland are harshly dealt with. In two days, at dusk, Pembury is to be drawn and quartered, and parts of his body distributed along the border as an example to all who oppose young David as the king of Scotland. His head will be sent to Edward himself.”

Joselyn coiled like a spring, making a lunge for de Velt even as Stephen held on to her. “You cannot make an example of my husband,” she screamed. “He belongs to me and I am taking him from this place. I shall kill you if you try to stop me. Do you hear? I will
kill you!”

It was as much passion and anger as Stephen had ever heard from her. She was all fury and fight. He pulled her back against him, trying to soothe her, as de Velt almost seemed amused.

“I believe you,” he said sincerely. “Which is why I will have Kynan remove you. Go home, little lady. Go home and forget you ever had an English husband for soon he will fade into memory.”

Joselyn went mad. She screamed angrily and grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be an empty pitcher from their meal the previous night. She threw it at de Velt, who ducked, allowing it to sail into the man behind him. Kynan was already moving towards her, putting himself between Joselyn and de Velt. He grabbed her by the arms, forcing her down beside Stephen as the weakened man tried to keep a grip on her.

“Stop it,” Kynan hissed. “If ye sufficiently anger him, he’ll make an example of ye, too!”

Stephen wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her against him. His ribs were screaming with the exertion but he had little choice. Joselyn had turned into a wildcat. He trapped her, forcing her to face him.

“Sweetheart, stop,” he murmured. “Stop your fighting. You will listen to me and listen well.”

She interrupted him as the angry, terrified tears began to come. “I am not leaving you!”

He put his face into the side of her head, his lips by her ear. “Listen to me,” he whispered, making sure that de Velt didn’t hear him. “You must return to Tate and tell him what has happened. I need you to take that message to him, do you understand?”

She was weeping fearfully into his neck but she still managed to comprehend what he was saying. “But I do not want to leave you,” she whispered, her lips quivering. “Please do not make me leave you.”

He smiled sweetly at her, cupping her face between his two massive hands. “You will never leave me, sweetheart,” he declared, gazing into her eyes. “You will always be with me, locked deep inside my heart. But I would like to see our son grow up and unless you take a message back to Tate, I am not sure that will happen. Please? It is important.”

Joselyn was struggling between hysteria and composure. She wanted to go wild with what de Velt was suggesting yet Stephen’s calm words were sinking in. If she wanted to see her husband live, then she must do as he said. She had done all she could and it was clear the Scots would not release Stephen. They were going to punish him for being English. She just was not strong enough to free him herself. She needed help.

Her tears faded as she gazed into his blue eyes. “Oh, Stephen,” she breathed. “I am so frightened.”

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “I know,” he whispered. “But you must force that aside and do as I say. You are my only hope and I need your help, not your tears.”

She swallowed hard, wiping her nose and looking hesitantly to Kynan, who nodded firmly.

“Come along with ye, Jo-Jo,” he reached out and grasped her arm. “Let’s take ye out of here.”

Panic flashed in her eyes but Stephen squeezed her gently, kissing her on the cheek. “Go,” he murmured. “I will see you soon.”

She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him furiously, painfully. “I love you,” she whispered between sniffles and kisses. “I love you more than life, Stephen, and I swear this is not the end. I swear it.”

Stephen returned her kisses, tasting her tears. He seriously wondered if this would be his last taste of her. “And I love you,” he said. “You are everything to me, Jo-Jo. Never forget that. Now hurry and leave before de Velt alters his decision and keeps you here. I could not bear it if that happened.”

She was a mess, sobbing and weeping, but she yanked herself away from Stephen and threw herself against Kynan. Kynan took hold of her and very quickly took her from the room, fearful that de Velt would change his mind and not allow her leave. The man could have just as easily made a whore out of condemned man’s wife. Once Kynan and Joselyn had fled the solar, de Velt turned to Stephen.

His dark eyes were cool, appraising. Stephen met his gaze without emotion, not wanting to hasten what was to happen to him by saying the wrong thing. He needed to give Tate time to figure out a plan. He needed to give Joselyn time to get free of Berwick. If he thought about it, he was frightened, but not for himself; death did not hold fear for him. But he was frightened for his wife and unborn child and what would become of them. He very much wanted to see his son.