A Stormy Knight Read online

  "Before you say anything, Gemma, I want you to know a messenger has already been dispatched to find out where your brother is and what is holding him up. It could be we miscounted the days and he was not due today. Something could have happened with the king that held him up as well." His strained face and the deep lines forming on his brow betrayed his anxiety.

  "That is good to hear, father," she said. She stared down at her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "We will know soon?"

  "Your brother was coming from London, which as you know is not far. The messenger should be back before the moon is high. I will know more before we break our fast in the morning," he said in a dismissive tone.

  After giving her father a peck on his whiskered cheek, she headed up to tell Isabel a story. She then went to her quarters next to the empty room where her brother should be. The servants had brought in her tub, and the water was steaming hot.

  Going to her wardrobe, she pulled out her favorite soap, one made with lavender from the garden that she always found relaxing. She hoped the lavender would work magic for her now. Her stomach was in knots, and her thoughts were in complete disarray.

  She sat in the tub for a long time. The water started to cool and her fingers pruned, so she got out and dressed. Sleep proved elusive. The only spot she found comfortable was the one near her small window. Pulling back the shutter, she sat and watched across the open fields for any sign of her brother. Anyone coming from London would be coming from the other direction, but that did not stop her from watching from her lonely perch for signs of life in the darkness beyond.

  Chapter Four

  The messenger returned just as the eastern sky paled with soft, morning light. Gemma rose from her bed. It had been a long night, and she had struggled through it to find the sweet relief of deep sleep. Nothing worked. Hurrying to dress, she absently grabbed the first kirtle she found. She struggled to don the fine fabric, pulled her silky hair back, and secured it tightly at her nape.

  She hoped for good news. Softly, she slipped down the steps and tiptoed into the great hall to see if anyone was up. There were a few servants milling around, getting a head start on the day, and Leda was speaking softly out in the bailey. Otherwise, it was dreadfully quiet.

  Her father was about and news had reached Blackstone. The messenger stood near her father's writing desk. Blaise's hands were shaking as he read. His head was bent down and his back slumped. He stood abruptly, put a hand to his midsection, and fell to the floor.

  She raced to his side. The messenger attempted to stop Blaise's head from hitting the stone floor. He failed. Gemma panicked when her father did not move.

  "Go get Father Darius now!" she said to the messenger, who nodded as he backed away slowly from her father. Gemma tried desperately to get her father to respond to her. She tapped his ashen cheek and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  "Now!" she commanded, as servants came running from every direction. The man finally spun around and raced out of the great hall to get the priest. Tears ran down her cheeks in earnest as her father lay motionless on the floor. His breathing was regular and his heartbeat strong.

  "Leda?" she said in a small voice, "Are you here?"

  There was no reply. She cleared her throat and repeated her question, this time with some power behind her shaking voice.

  "Aye, milady, I be here," Leda said from behind her.

  "Please, Leda, something to put under my father's head!"

  Father Darius arrived, shuffling his feet as he ran. The sounds of boots scuffing the floor reverberated around her as more people arrived.

  Leda scurried away as the priest came over and cleared everyone back. He studied the unconscious man for a moment as Gemma too backed away to give him space. Her father still lived, but that was all she knew. She bent down to retrieve the letter that had fallen from his hand and searched for Oliver de Toeni, but he was nowhere to be found.

  She inched closer to a burning candle and scanned the paper. It was not good news. Her brother was missing, and the king himself had no further information on his possible whereabouts. Gavin left with his soldiers, his bride-to-be, and her chaperone on schedule. They should have arrived at Blackstone on time.

  Something was terribly, terribly wrong. She was sure of it. It was time to ask King Henry for help, just as her father had suggested. Had her father known something would happen to him?

  There was much confusion in the great hall as the priest arranged for Blaise to be taken up to his chambers in the solar. Because Blaise was lord of the castle, it was only right he be in his own bed away from the hubbub of daily life in the inner bailey rather than above the chapel. This would allow him to heal in peace if he survived what ailed him.

  Leda returned with the now unneeded linen. Blaise had been taken up the steps. His breathing was still regular, but he would not rouse from his sleep.

  Gemma sent her to find Oliver, and then she sat down on a wooden bench for a moment to catch her breath. Suddenly, she felt strangely alone and overwhelmingly vulnerable, and she knew she needed help.

  Hesse brought Isabel down the steps to go to morning mass. Gemma motioned for her to take Isabel to the kitchen to keep her out of the way. Everyone appeared to be moving in slow motion; the world had taken on a dream-like quality as seconds ticked by.

  Oliver arrived with Leda. Gemma took a deep breath and tried to take charge of the situation. "Leda, please continue as if nothing has happened. Isabel is in the kitchen. There are hungry people who will be looking to break their fast soon enough. Because Father Darius is with Father, there will be no morning mass. Oliver, please come with me to the chapel so I may speak with you in private. We may also say a prayer for my father."

  Her father's seneschal nodded and followed her out into the early morning sunlight. They stepped through the dewy grass and into the chilly darkness of the empty chapel. Gemma lit a few candles and light sprang up around them.

  "Milady, I am truly sorry I was not with your father this morning," Oliver said. "He wanted me to have men ready in the event Gavin needed aid, so I was not with him in the hall. Is there anything I can do to assist you now?" His face was solemn, his tone flat.

  With a deep sigh and shaking hands, Gemma relayed the contents of the message her father received before he fell over. "I don't think Gavin is just lost, Oliver. I fear something bad has befallen him and his bride. Can we send out a search to see if any trace or clue can be found?"

  "Milady, I have the men on the ready as we speak. We can leave as soon as you wish it. Is there anything else we can do?"

  "Aye." She stood and turned her back to de Toeni momentarily so he could not see the fear in her eyes as she tried to steady her hands. She was lost and alone, and the weight of the morning's events was crushing her spirit.

  She let one tear slide down her cheek before she steeled herself and spun back to face him. "You must send a message to King Henry. I need assistance. My father said if something were to happen to him, Henry should be reached immediately."

  "Right away, milady." He stood to leave the chapel. He hesitated for a moment and then said, "Your father has faith in you and so do I. You know what to do. You have watched your father run this castle for years, and these people love you. You have to stand tall and lead until help arrives. Do not doubt yourself and do what you already know has to be done. I am always ready to assist if you need me."

  Without waiting for her response, Oliver ducked to go through the door of the chapel and walked out into the early morning light. He and his men were soon gone, leaving her to think about what he said and what she was going to do next.

  She called for her father's squire, who had stayed behind to help her while Oliver was gone. The remaining men were ordered to be on high alert. For the time being, the gates were locked to anyone not already living in Blackstone. Next, she found Hesse with Isabel in the hall. It was time to eat.

  It was futile, but she tried desperately to make sense of it all. Her father was i
ll. Father Darius was still with him, and she had not heard a word from him. Oliver should be well on his way to London by now. There was a traitor among them, though what they wanted was a mystery. It could be someone they trusted. To what end, though? Her father was stern but well loved, so who had been killing off servants and possibly even him?

  She felt a tugging on her skirts. "Gemma?" It was Isabel. "Where is Father? Can we eat now?"

  Gemma glanced around. Everyone was watching her. Since her father was not there, she had to sit down at the dais for the meal to begin. She moved toward the high table and beckoned Hesse to join her.

  Hesse listened as Gemma spoke in hushed tones while the food was set before them. She tried to speak without alarming Isabel, who was quick-minded and did not miss much going on around her. "Please stay with Isabel today and do not leave her side for one moment. Remain within the castle walls and try not to allow her to prattle on too much about Father."

  "Milady, I understand." Hesse nodded slowly. "What are we to do then? 'Tis hard enough to keep her occupied on most days. She'll be wanting to know about yer father soon enough."

  "Just do what you can. Do not wander away from the eyes of father's men-at-arms, at least until instructed otherwise. If you can get her to read or to work on embroidery in the nursery, all the better. I shall talk with her about our father later today." Hesse nodded again and glanced at Isabel who was playing with her food.

  Gemma got up quickly and took the steps two at a time to reach the solar. She wanted to see her father. The priest was just leaving Blaise's chambers when she arrived. He slowed his pace when he saw her.

  "He lives, my dear. The Lord has not asked him to go home just yet," Father Darius said.

  "But what," she stammered, "what is wrong with Father? Can I see him?"

  "Aye, you may see him, dear, but he is not awake. He cannot see or hear you. I am not sure what is ailing him, but other than being in a deep sleep, there appears to be no injury. Some people do fall into a sleep after a great shock, but I do not know if this is what has befallen your father. He has a small bump on the back of his head, but that would be from the fall he took on the stone floor."

  "He will awaken soon?"

  Father Darius shrugged his stout shoulders. His round cheeks bore no hint of a smile. "That I do not know. I will remain with him as long as he rests." He placed a hand on Gemma's shoulder for a moment before he walked around her. "I will return shortly. You should go sit with him now."

  Gemma obeyed, almost as if in a trance. She hesitated at the door to her father's chamber. His massive chest rose and fell rhythmically as he slept. He did not move otherwise, and his face was completely without any sign of his personality. It did indeed appear he was in a deep sleep from which he could not awaken. Someone had removed his clothing and pulled linens up over his body to keep him warm but unencumbered.

  She sat down and took his hand, which was warm and rough as it had always been. This was comforting, as if his soul did indeed still inhabit his body. "Father," she whispered near his ear, "what has become of you? 'Twould seem I am alone now, and I do not know what I am to do."

  Her father said nothing. He did not move his hand, nor did he stir in any other way. Gemma's tears started to slide down her cheeks again, and she willed them to stop. This time she could not do it. She let her head fall to the bed and let the sobs come. Her whole body shook as the pain and fear from the last few weeks came pouring out of her.

  When the anguish subsided, she raised her head, her green eyes, bloodshot and swollen from her crying, fixed on her father's face. "That is the last time I will feel weakness. I swear to you no matter what happens next, I will make you proud of me. I will run this castle until the time when you are able to again, and I will protect Isabel from whatever evil has come our way. I swear it."

  She released her father's hand and bent to put a small kiss upon his cheek. Her hair fell over her shoulders as she whispered a prayer for him. As she stood, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders as if she must walk out of the room and take on the world.

  In many ways, that was exactly what she did.

  ****

  Gemma paced in the hall as the sun struggled to stay above the horizon. The heat from the fire felt like the summer sun upon her skin. The sky outside was brilliant red with streaks of gold. The crickets hummed, and the winds were still. It was a perfect night. That perfection was at odds with everything she was feeling.

  She had spoken with Isabel about their father and taken her to the chapel to pray for him. Isabel was now abed. Oliver had yet to return from his mission, and her father was still in a deep sleep. The priest had come to her to share his concerns her father might have been poisoned. There was nothing he could do to help him. All they could do was to wait to see if Blaise de Vere would find his way back to them.

  It had been a long day, and she was exhausted. Soldiers patrolled the hallways of the solar where the family slept. She was about to give up and go up to her quarters when she heard shouts from the outer bailey near the drawbridge. Once outside she broke into a run. Men-at-arms ran toward the gate as a group entered on horseback. Instead of Oliver, there was a large group of men with a strange looking banner she did not know.

  Fear grabbed her, and an icy shock ran down her spine. She had asked no one be allowed to enter without her permission, but her father's men had let this party into the outer bailey.

  She stood her ground as the party moved across the grass and neared her. Her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it meant to leap out and run away. The sun was almost completely set, but she could see the faces of the men atop the horses as they neared her. In the lead was a powerful, black destrier that seemed to dance, barely under the control of the rider atop him. He removed his helmet and stared at her with a sneer. Gemma took a step back as her entire body shook. Around her, her father's men stood at attention, ready to defend.

  The man stopped the party by holding a gloved hand in the air. They fell into place behind him. The man handed the reins to the man next to him and dropped from the horse with ease. He was tall, powerful, and dark, and his aura was imposing. She was not sure if she should stand her ground or retreat.

  She yelled out, "Has Henry sent you to aid us, then?"

  He moved toward her, his black hair shining in the light of the setting sun. His dark eyes locked with hers. She could not breathe. The stranger's features were shadowed in the failing light, but there was no mistaking the rough masculinity that was stepping up to face her. This knight was commanding and powerful and moved with grace and confidence. A strange sensation moved through her and settled in her stomach as he stopped a few feet from her.

  "Your knight has arrived, milady." he said, his voice deep and smooth. She stared, unable to do much else. He bowed deeply, but she caught the mischief in his eyes as he straightened before her. Though her experience with men was limited, he was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen, and if measured by the feelings which burst forth throughout her body, the most dangerous as well.

  After a moment, his tone hardened and he spit out, "'Twould seem the lady is not happy to see me after all." He stepped closer.

  Nicholas. Her mind screamed as she stood frozen. Nicholas de Reymes, her childhood love, her nemesis, her tormenter, and her enemy stood before her. He had returned.

  Chapter Five

  Gemma blinked. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. It could not be Nicholas. Her fingers were as cold as the icy river waters outside the castle walls, and her heart seemed to have stopped. Everything had ceased to move, and she reeled, feeling she was standing alone in the world, facing the man who had terrorized her dreams for seven years.

  She wanted to move, to run, to flee from all she was feeling right then, but her feet stayed firmly fixed to the hard-packed earth beneath them. It was as if she were in a dream. Everything in her mind told her to run, but she could not. Something was holding her feet there, though danger was breathing down
her neck.

  "It cannot be," she said in a small voice, the words trailing off into nothingness.

  "Ah, but it is," Nicholas's deep voice penetrated the fog forming around her brain. "'Twould seem your family's plot to be rid of me did not work. I am here and ready to take my revenge."

  The world crashed around her, but she held her head up. She stared at the men on horseback behind him. They regarded their new surroundings and spoke to each other in hushed tones. These men were not going to be of any assistance. Feelings of despair and weakness erupted within her, but she pushed them back.

  "How dare you show up here? You tried to turn our family over to the Empress Matilda, and it did not work. Have you come here to finish the job? Are you behind the accidents in my home? Do you hate me so you would harm my father?"

  Her green eyes were now on fire. The sneer on Nicholas's face had gone and was replaced with a look of boredom, though his eyes shined as he faced her, refusing to back away.

  "I have dreamt of this moment for so long," he said. She boldly met his gaze, knowing if she did not, he would sense her weakness With false bravado, she tried to remain aloof, calm, and in command, all the while throwing up a façade of control. The safety of her people depended on her every move.

  Familiar brown eyes stared straight through her. They were a glowing brown with a hint of gold. His dark hair was long, but not as long as it was when he was younger. It fell over his eyes and down his neck and fluttered in the wind just enough to draw attention to the strong line of his neck and his broad shoulders.

  "Why would…" She started so speak, but he did not let her finish.