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Authors: A.M. Westerling

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BOOK: A Knight for Love
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Nonsense, she shook her head firmly. Nonsense. Warin simply
followed the code of chivalry and had no personal feelings for her.

Nonsense.

 

*****

 

Warin groaned and slapped at a branch that impeded his way. It had tried him sorely to see Alyna so beset by sorrow – he could only imagine the hurt she must have felt when denied access to Caperun Keep.

After weeks of fighting the fascination she had for him, weeks of carrying the icy demeanor that so effectively stifled any conversation between them, having her in his arms again just now had stirred up the thoughts and feelings within him that had been so firmly tamped down.

He groaned again.

How foolish to yearn for what could not be. She was of a high class and he had nothing to offer her. No lands, no riches, only an empty man, scarred by what he had seen in his life, scarred by guilt. A man who meant to find peace by following a higher calling and a pure life.

Once he had her settled at Caperun Keep, he would leave.

 

*****

 

They
trotted up the road towards the keep the next morning, Warin in the lead, followed by Alyna and then Bennet. As Warin had predicted, the gates were open and they rode to the very foot of the curtain wall before being hailed by Odo.

“Halt!” Odo’s voice rang firm and clear
, followed by the unmistakable rumble of the drawbridge being lowered, gears squealing and guardsmen grunting with effort.

“Let us pass,” Warin commanded. “I have Alyna Caperun with me, rightful daughter of Caperun Keep.” He eyed the open gate
and the lowered drawbridge before nodding slightly to Alyna.

P
lainly, their little group wasn’t considered much of a threat. And why should they be, Alyna thought resentfully, she belonged here.

“Nay, it is not so,” Odo
spat. “For Lady Alyna is disappeared these many months and is dead.”

“Odo, it
’s me, I’m alive!” protested Alyna, standing up in the stirrups to allow Odo a better view of her.

Warin twisted about in his saddle and held up a hand to silence her. “Alyna, I will deal with this.” He twisted back to look up at Odo.

Alyna plopped back into the saddle again, thankful to have Warin with her. He would soon have them inside.

“I am Warin de Taillur. And this,” he gestured to Alyna,
  “is Alyna Caperun, late of France.”

“How can that be? How could Alyna Caperun be found in France?” Odo
, smug in his assessment, rested his elbows on the sliver of wall between the crenels and looked down at them.

“She was in the company of her brother, on the road to the Holy Land
,” Warin replied.

Odo shoo
k his head in blatant disbelief, not awed by Warin in the slightest.

“It
’s true,” Alyna shouted, desperate to have Odo acknowledge her after his apparent disregard of Warin. “Ask Emma, she knows. I told Emma what I was about to do.”

“And if that were so,” Odo
growled, “then why has Emma kept that secret to herself?”

“Just so,”
said Alyna eagerly. “It was a secret. Emma would not betray me.”

Odo pulled back and the low murmur of voices drifted on the morning breeze. Then, he reappeared.

“We fetch Emma,” he announced. “She’ll tell us.”

Odo disappeared again and the threesome waited on the road
. From where they stood, Alyna could see through the arched gateway to the empty bailey beyond.

The
silent keep made her uncomfortable. No sound broke the still morning air – no hum of human activity, no voices, nothing. Even the birds had fallen silent as if all were in waiting.

“Bennet, stand by me,” whispered Warin
.

Bennet
, uneasiness rimming his eyes, nudged his steed to stand firm with Warin. He glanced over at Warin, pulling his horse closer. Alyna followed his lead and moved in to form a tight little pack.

There was no obvious threat, but the
secretive atmosphere suffocated her and a shiver ran down her back. She glanced about, almost expecting to see the devil himself dancing on the road behind them.

Emma peeked over the wall, fearful, then suspicious, then bewildered.

“Alyna?” she squeaked. “Is it you?” She poked at Odo at her side. “Odo, look! ‘Tis Maid Alyna returned!”

Odo muttered something unintelligible then moved away, an unfathomable expression on his
swarthy face. If Alyna had known better, she would have sworn Odo wasn’t at all happy to see her. Emma, however, leaned further out to take a closer look.

“Maid Alyna! I
vow it
is
you. Where have you been? We thought you dead and perished.” Joy lined her plump features, and her blue eyes sparkled as if lit from within by candles.

“Emma, oh Emma, the tales I have.” Alyna
let out a huge breath. Mayhap Warin had been correct. Mayhap the fading light the previous evening had made her unrecognizable. Mayhap her fears over Philippa were groundless.

“Pass,” Emma said. “I
’ll meet you straight in the bailey.” And Emma promptly disappeared from sight.

“Aye!” A happy smile graced Alyna’s
lips and she beamed at Bennet and Warin as she pushed past them. “Come,” she exclaimed, pretending not to notice the blatant doubt and distrust on their faces.

She clattered over the drawbridge and into the bailey. It had seen much activity lately for many feet had trampled the ground, leaving it hard packed dirt.
Smoke curled from the smithy and fresh wood shavings littered the ground about the carpenter’s shed. The blacksmith and the carpenter, however, were nowhere to be seen.

Before she could puzzle on that further, Emma barreled around the corner of the entrance turret and flung herself at Alyna’s legs.

“Maid Alyna, I
’m so happy to see you. Your long absence worried me but never once did your secret pass over my lips.”

“And of what secret do you speak?”
A haughty voice rang over the bailey and Alyna shriveled inside.

Aunt
Philippa. She sailed across the bailey towards them, ruby mouth compressed and two spots of matching color high on the ivory cheeks. A blue scarf covered her hair but Alyna knew the locks would be black as ebony with nary a gray hair.

By the Virgin Mary, was she not even allowed the luxury of a few moments to collect herself, to savor the pleasure of being home, before doing battle with her aunt?

Warin moved up beside her. Whether by purpose or simply by coincidence, Alyna could only surmise, but she took comfort in the fact that he sat at her side. Knowing that gave her courage and she lifted her chin and sat tall in her saddle. She wouldn’t give Philippa the pleasure of knowing the woman intimidated her.

“My intent was to follow David and our father on Crusade.”

“Oh, my,” Philippa sneered, violet eyes cold and lip curled. “How pious and profound of you. But,” she pointed at Alyna’s head where several unruly wisps of hair poked out from her scarf, “has your travel so ruined you that now you sit with hair almost shorn. Or tell me, is that the mode in the Holy Land? Shorn locks?” She smiled, a nasty grimace that cut Alyna to the core. “Nay, you’re not the Alyna of this house. That Alyna is long dead and buried. That Alyna was vainglorious and would never cut her hair. I am mistress here and I say you are not Alyna Caperun.”

Alyna couldn’t believe her ears at the untruths Philippa tossed out so carelessly. She swallowed hard against the bile roiling up in the back of her throat before she answered.
“How is it that you are mistress? Caperun Keep belongs to my father. When his brother died he welcomed you, his sister by marriage, though he had no cause to do so. And now you cast me, Hugh’s daughter, aside? Have you no love for me? You raised me as your own after our mother died.” She shook her head. “My father will not be pleased when he returns.”

“Hugh will not return
,” Philippa shrugged. “Several weeks ago we received a missive informing us of his death.”

Philippa’s words hit Alyna as if a blow from a sword.

Dead. Her father was dead, buried alone in a distant land.

Sorrow settled in Alyna’s chest, a ponderous weight that stifled her breath and made her feel faint. “Nay, it cannot be,” she finally managed to gasp
, staring at her aunt’s gloating face. “You lie.” She wound her fingers in her horse’s mane to keep from toppling over.

Philippa’s next words barely registered through the roaring in her ears.

“It’s true,” Philippa shrugged then continued with malicious intent sharpening every word. “Alas, David also died en route to the Crusades and because you disappeared many months ago it was only natural for me to assume you had died. So now aye, I hold Caperun Keep.”

“How could you know of David’s death,” Alyna
whispered. “I was with him when he died. I had no means to send the news.”

“So you admit he is dead then. Baldric
.” She motioned to the short, stocky knight lurking behind Philippa’s back.

Baldric stepped out and
ignored Alyna, although the flush creeping up his neck and over his face betrayed his guilty conscience.

“You were
right, Baldric. David is dead. Caperun Keep really is mine,” Philippa said smugly, crossing her arms to look down her nose at them.

“Aye,” Baldric
replied. “David had no stomach for the task before him. He was doomed to fail. Knowing that, my lady, I chose to return and resume my duties here.” Baldric’s insolent manner implied he knew he stood secure with the lady of the manor and not the interlopers.

Alyna
almost gagged at the satisfaction oozing from Philippa and the stench of betrayal that hung about Baldric, in fact, hung about them both.

Her worst fears had come true.
Not only were both her father and brother dead, she was no longer welcome at Caperun Keep. And without Hugh’s support, she had no means to regain it.

S
he had lost her home.

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

“Aunt Philippa, why do you cast me away?” Desperate, Alyna pleaded with her aunt. A wave of dizziness assailed her at Philippa’s cruelty and she clung tightly to the pommel.

However, Philippa ignored her and so
Alyna tried another tack. “Baldric. Were you so mistreated that you would deny me the right to my own home? This, after your treachery to David?”

Baldric turned his head away and Alyna
closed her eyes to hide the sight of his betrayal. She sucked in several deep breaths.

S
teeling herself, she opened her eyes. “I wager you will be tried at the gates of Heaven and found to be wanting.” Alyna spat the vitriolic words at the unfeeling profile. She must have struck a nerve for the flush rose anew on Baldric’s cheeks and he dragged one hand over his balding pate. Mayhap he felt remorse for the act he had committed against her and David.

Anger now made her brave, made her turn back to face Philippa, standing there so arrogantly on the landing of the entrance turret.

She took a deep breath to gather herself for her final tirade.

“I wouldn
’t be so certain of the loyalty of those about you,” she taunted her aunt. “Baldric is a proven traitor. Do you think you can rely on him when he changes his allegiance as easily as the wind changes direction?”

“There are others who serve me
.” Philippa gestured about the bailey.

And sadly, it was true for more men had materialized, advancing on the trio with threatening poses.
Apparently every able-bodied man had been called to arms, for here came the missing smithy and carpenter.

“Alyna,” warned Warin softly. “We
’re outnumbered. It would be wise to respect one’s foe and escape with our skins intact.”

“But,” she protested, “
this is not just. Caperun Keep is mine. The harlot has stolen my very birthright.”

Warin
raised his eyebrow, a tiny smile curling about one corner of his mouth at Alyna’s insult. “There are other means to recover the keep.” His sympathetic voice gave her hope and she nodded slowly, once, twice.

“Aye,” agreed Bennet who until now had sat back, ready to spring to action if need be
judging by the way he fingered the hilt of his sword. “We’re outnumbered. If we leave we can think on it a bit more clearly.” He leaned closer to whisper to her. “Unjust or no, Alyna, clearly you’re not wanted here. To these people you are dead.” He wheeled his horse about, urging Alyna to follow. “Come, before they shut the gates and trap us.”

“Go with Bennet
,” Warin waved her off. “I’ll protect your back.”

“Aye,
it’s for the best.” Alyna understood the futility of the situation. To endanger their lives in an apparent losing battle would be senseless. But, she vowed, the battle may be lost but not the war.

BOOK: A Knight for Love
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