A Knight's Honor Read online

  A KNIGHT’S HONOR

  by Connie Mason

  SAINT.........

  He was a miracle sent by God to save her. That was what Mariah's aged and ailing husband called the mysterious knight who had been brought unconscious to their doorstep. She had to agree that he was a maiden's dream, his naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles. But she was no maiden to swoon over a handsome stranger. She was a wife, soon to be a widow, and though the course of action her dying husband urged upon her might leave him with an heir, it would lead her into terrible temptation.

  OR SINNER

  When he opened his eyes upon the golden-haired woman attending his sickbed, Talcon thought her an angel. And as his strength grew, so too did his desire to show her a little bit of heaven. He might have no recollection of his past, but he sensed that he new well how to please a woman. Little did he guess that the seduction he was contemplating would take him to paradise, yet put at risk----

  A KNIGHT’S HONOR

  Leisure book, Dorchester Publ.

  Copyright 2005

  Prologue

  Mildenhall Castle, Norfolk, England, 1414

  Mariah of Mildenhall entered her husband's bedchamber, pleased to find him awake. He appeared in better spirits than she had seen him in several days.

  "Mariah, my dear, come sit beside me," Edmond said, making room on the edge of the bed for her.

  "You seem in good spirits today, husband. Are you feeling better?"

  Edmond of Mildenhall, a gaunt, elderly man with kind eyes, sighed. "We both know I am nearing the end of my life."

  Mariah grasped his hand, her voice fraught with con­cern. "You cannot give up, Edmond. You must live. What will I do without you?"

  "Think you I do not know what my death will do to you? I am an old man, Mariah, a very sick one. I would have died long ago if you had not come into my life. You were but a child placed under my guardianship when I was already an old man."

  A tear slipped down Mariah's cheek. "I love you, Edmond."

  "I know you do, but as a father." She shook her head, re­fusing to look at him. He held up a hand. "Nay, do not deny it. I wed you to save you from being given to the hus­band the king had chosen for you. I knew the man and his reputation for cruelty well, and could not bear to see you abused. You were but fourteen when we wed, still a child."

  "Now that I am one and twenty, I still love you."

  Edmond reached out a bony hand and caressed her satiny smooth cheek. "Thank you for that, little one. But we have more practical things to talk about. The last physician I consulted gave me only a year or two before my heart gives out, if I spend most of my days in bed. Ed-wina, the healer you put such store in, agrees with him. Lying in bed is not something I enjoy."

  "What do you wish to talk about?" Mariah asked, though she had a good idea. Her future looked bleak in­deed.

  "My brother Osgood has his sights set on Mildenhall. Since I have no heir, he will claim it once I have drawn my last breath. I do not want that to happen. Mildenhall is your home, the only one you have known since your par­ents' death from the fever that swept through England when you were a wee lass of seven."

  Mariah stared at her hands.

  "I know what you are thinking, Mariah. The times I've bedded you during our seven-year marriage have been few. I knew I needed an heir to keep Mildenhall out of my brother's hands, but each time I bedded you, I felt I was committing a mortal sin. You were more daughter to me than wife."

  "Do not worry about me, Edmond. Concentrate on get­ting well. I will still have a widow's portion."

  " Tis not enough. You would have to leave Mildenhall, perhaps find another husband. But my worst fear is that Osgood will force you to wed his son."

  Mariah blanched. "I would never wed that despicable lecher."

  "'He could petition King Henry for approval, and then you would have no choice. Our warrior king might look favorably upon Osgood's request because of my brother's reputation as a fierce knight."

  "You're frightening me, Edmond. I am but a woman, ho must yield to laws made by men. I am neither weak nor bird-brained, yet I am not allowed to inherit my home unless I have a male heir. 'Tis unfair."

  "Life is unfair, my dear, especially so for a woman. There is only one solution. I waited until I felt strong enough to speak to you about this. You must present me with an heir."

  Mariah looked at her frail husband, a man who rarely left his bed, a kind man who would do nothing to hurt her; a man who considered her die daughter he'd never had. She wondered how he expected to accomplish the miracle of producing a child.

  "Do not look at me so, Mariah. You know I am inca­pable of bedding you."

  "Then how—"

  "Listen to me, sweet child, listen carefully. I would find no fault with you if you found an honorable man to give you a child. There must be someone in Mildenhall you fancy."

  "Edmond! How could you suggest such a thing?"

  "After I am gone, you will have no one to protect you. A son would secure Mildenhall for you. If you had one, not even Osgood or the king could force you to leave."

  She shrank away from him. "I cannot."

  He grasped her hands. "Do you love me, Mariah?"

  "You know I do."

  "Then take a lover and give me a son."

  "I cannot," she repeated.

  Edmond sank into the mattress and closed his eyes, weary unto death. But he couldn't die and leave Mariah just yet. Poor Mariah. A woman as young, as beautiful and full of life as his wife deserved better, than the hand fate had dealt her.

  Except for a few brief couplings he'd managed once she had reached seventeen, he hadn't touched her despite his need for an heir. Over the years, Mariah had become his beloved daughter, one who had never known desire or experienced passion with a virile man.

  "You didn't answer my question, Mariah. Is there no man among Mildenhall's knights you fancy?"

  Mariah shook her dark head. "I took vows, Edmond. Sacred vows."

  "The sin is not yours when a husband cannot function as a man, and hasn't for many years. Do not naysay me until you have considered my proposal. A male heir would solve both our problems."

  Mariah had watched Edmond wither before her eyes. How she loved this dear old man. She would do anything for him. Anything except betray him. Even if she did as he asked and took a lover from among the castle's knights, her sin wouldn't remain a secret for long. It would be impossible to hide the truth from the inhabitants of Mildenhall, and Osgood would have reason to doubt his brother's ability to sire an heir. Osgood was a cruel man; he wouldn't rest until he ferreted out her lie.

  "All this talk has tired you," Mariah said, pressing a kiss on his papery cheek. "We will discuss this later."

  "Please think about what I have said," Edmond rasped as Mariah let herself out of the chamber.

  Chapter 1

  Norfolk, England, 1414

  Sir Falcon of Gaveston whistled a happy tune as he trav­eled along a deserted roadway through a forest in a part of Norfolk he had traveled only once before. A fortnight ago he had become betrothed to a wealthy maiden whom King Henry had promised him for his bravery at the bat­tle of Agincourt in France. Henry's ten thousand archers had shattered the French knights, and Falcon had ridden at Henry's side, one of the king's own knights.

  Rosamond of Norwich was an heiress who would bring him the wealth and land he yearned for. As a third son and landless, Falcon had to make his own way in life, earn his own keep and find a way to obtain a piece of England to call his own.

  After meeting Rosamond, Falcon had decided that Henry had chosen well for him. The heiress had proved to be a raven-haired beauty who had found him as favorably disposed as he had found her.
Marriage to Rosamond wasn't going to be difficult; the fervent kisses they had shared during stolen moments alone had been more than satisfactory.

  If Rosamond appeared frivolous, Falcon blamed it on her youth. Though her flirtatious manner with other men did not please him, he felt confident in his ability to tame her wild ways. All in all, the visit had gone well. The terms of Rosamond's dowry had been ironed out between him and Rosamond's father, the Earl of Norwich, and the wedding was set for a fortnight hence. Rosamond and her father planned to travel to London, where the wedding would take place in the king's own chapel.

  Falcon was a happy man. The land and small fortress that would be his upon his marriage earned a good profit from crops and sheep. Aye, Falcon's life couldn't be bet­ter right now.

  The tiny village where Falcon hoped to engage a room and a meal at an inn lay ahead. It was growing dark. Shadows began to lengthen, casting the forest in near darkness. A prickling at the back of Falcon's neck made him wish he had not decided to travel alone. But since his visit to Norwich was of a personal nature, he had left his men and squire behind in London.

  A rustling of leaves made his horse perk up his ears and skitter sideways. Falcon patted his neck and spoke soothingly to him, but the animal refused to settle down. Deciding that his faithful palfrey knew something he didn't, Falcon reached for his sword. A moment later pan­demonium broke loose.

  Two burly men dressed in rags and wielding cudgels dropped from die trees, knocking him from the saddle. These were the brigands whom Lord Norwich had warned him about, Falcon thought in a moment of clarity. They lived in the forest, attacking and robbing travel­ers foolish enough to be caught alone on the road after nightfall.

  Falcon rolled to his feet and drew his sword, preparing to defend himself. He realized his was a losing battle when he saw several more men materialize from the for­est and surround him. Falcon fought fiercely, with un­common valor, but he was one man against many. He managed to wound two men and kill another before he was brought to his knees and dealt a crippling blow to the head by a bandit who had managed to creep up behind him while he fought off a vicious frontal attack.

  Falcon fell senseless to the ground, unaware of the blows falling randomly, one after another. When the leader finally called a halt, Falcon lay bruised and bat­tered beyond recognition. As a final insult, the bandits stole his valuables, ruthlessly stripped off his clothing and left him lying naked and vulnerable in the dirt. Tak­ing Falcon's horse with them, they melted into the forest, leaving the king's knight unconscious and close to death.

  Falcon lay in the middle of the road throughout the night. His body was discovered shortly after sunup by a cotter on his way to Mildenhall Castle to deliver produce.

  The cotter, a husky man of middle years, drew his don­key cart to a halt, leapt down and cautiously approached the naked man. After a moment's contemplation, he nudged Falcon with his foot. "Are ye dead, then?"

  A tormented moan answered his question.

  "Well, then, what am I going to do with ye?"

  No answer was forthcoming. "I suppose I can take ye to the castle since I'm going that way. If the ride in the back of my cart don't kill ye, mayhap old Edwina can fix ye."

  The cotter lifted Falcon's broken body into his cart and covered him with a horse blanket. Then he climbed onto the driver's bench and plodded off toward Mildenhall Castle.

  *****************************************************************************************

  "Milady, a cotter has just brought a wounded man to the castle," Sir Martin, Mildenhall's steward, informed Mariah. "He'd been badly beaten and left in the forest for dead."

  Mariah looked up from the silver she had been count­ing. "Where did you put the poor man?"

  "I had him carried to a guest room in the solar. I hope that meets with your approval."

  "Did you summon Edwina?"

  "Aye, though I fear he is beyond the healer's help."

  Mariah lifted her skirts and hurried toward the winding stone staircase. "I shall go to him immediately."

  "Wait!" Sir Martin called after her, but she paid him no heed. He followed in Mariah's wake, his tunic flapping about his knees.

  Mariah entered the chamber and came to an abrupt halt. The man lying on the bed was naked and bleeding from numerous cuts and bruises. His muscular body, honed biceps, powerful torso and sturdy legs were those of a warrior. Obviously, the man was well acquainted with death and violence.

  Huffing and puffing, Sir Martin rushed into the cham­ber behind Mariah. "Milady, I tried to warn you. The man was brought in as you see him before you."

  "Has he spoken? Do you know who he is?"

  "Nay. He said naught to the cotter and naught since he reached the castle. Think you he will die?"

  "I do not know. Return to the hall and wait for Edwina. Bring her to me as soon as she arrives."

  Sir Martin's eyes settled on the naked man. "I cannot leave you alone with him."

  "A man in his condition can do me no harm. Go, Sir Martin."

  Mariah approached the bed. The poor man hadn't moved since she'd arrived in the chamber. Her breath caught; he was a masterpiece of hair-roughened bronze skin pulled taut over rippling muscles. As she reached for a coverlet and started to ease it over him, her gaze settled on a part of him she had refused to look at when she first entered the chamber.

  Never in her life had she seen a male as magnificently endowed as the man lying in the bed. Since she had never seen her husband naked, she'd had no idea a man's male part could be so fascinating. Shaking such wicked thoughts from her head, she drew the coverlet over the stranger's battered body and gazed into his bruised countenance.

  Mariah couldn't tell what the man looked like, for his face was swollen and covered with purple and yellow bruises. His eyes, ringed with black, were sunken into their sockets, and his chin was covered with day-old stub­ble as black as the hair on his head. She hadn't even touched him, and yet, inexplicably, she was stirred.

  Mariah was still staring at him, wondering about the color of his eyes, when a bent old woman carrying a bas­ket over her arm hobbled into the chamber.

  "Who is he, milady?" Edwina asked as she approached the bed.

  "I know not," Mariah replied. "The poor soul took a fearsome beating. Apparently, he was set upon by bandits. They stole everything he owned and left him for dead. If he had a horse, it, too, was taken. We'll have to wait for him to awaken to learn his name. Can you help him?"

  "Depends on how badly he's hurt. Step aside, milady, while I tend his wounds."

  Marian backed away, unwilling to leave until she knew if the man would live. Something about him reached inside her in a way she had never experienced before. She closed her eyes and willed him to live. If will alone would make him well, he'd be in excellent health right now.

  "I need hot water, milady, and clean cloths."

  "I'll see to it," Mariah said, slipping from the chamber. Mariah sent a maidservant to fetch hot water from the kitchen, and then she headed to her chamber for cloths she kept in a cupboard for her personal use.

  Edmond was awake and sitting in a chair before the hearth. Cedric, his personal servant, stood nearby, wait­ing to help his master into bed. Edmond looked up when Mariah entered. "Sir Martin just informed me that a wounded man was brought to the castle this morning."

  "Aye, he's in dreadful shape. Edwina is with him."

  "A young man?" Edmond rasped with more animation than Mariah had noted in a long time.

  "I think so, though 'tis hard to tell. He was beaten and left for dead on the road. We won't know who he is until he can speak."

  Mariah retrieved the cloths she had come for and turned to the door.

  "Keep me informed," Edmond called after her.

  Edwina was bent over her patient when Mariah re­turned. The hot water had already arrived, awaiting the cloths Mariah brought.

  "How is he?" Mariah asked.

  "Still alive," the old woman answered. />
  "Has he spoken?"

  "Naught but groans have come from his mouth."

  Mariah watched as Edwina bathed the man's face and searched his head for wounds.

  "Ah," Edwina said.

  "What did you find?"

  "A lump the size of a goose egg." She cleansed the blood from his wound and applied salve. "Judging from the color of his bruises, he has lain unconscious and unat­tended for hours, mayhap all night. If he doesn't wake up soon, I hold scant hope for his survival."

  "What of his other injuries?"

  "The man must be made of iron. I could find no broken bones despite the battering he took, though he may have injuries that I cannot see." She shrugged. "Other than ap­ply salve to his wounds and feed him an infusion to ease his pain, there is naught I can do for him. We will have to wait and see what happens."

  Edwina worked diligently over the man, soothing his hurts with marigold salve and mixing a potion that she dribbled into his mouth to ease his pain. "I will return later," she said as she collected her herbal concoctions and returned them to the basket. "Have a maidservant sit with him. Tell her to fetch me should his condition change."

  "I will sit with him myself," Mariah said. She pulled a chair up to the bed and settled into it as Edwina slipped from the chamber.

  Mariah studied the man's face as she kept watch, won­dering who he was and what he was doing in these parts. Mildenhall was so remote that few visitors arrived at their gates, and certainly no one in this poor man's condition. Was he a traveler on an important mission? A husband returning to his wife and children? A knight about his business?

  Mariah sighed and closed her eyes. Staring at the man wasn't going to make him well.

  "Water—"

  **********************************

  Falcon awoke in pain—brutal, pounding pain. His body, his head, there wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt. His body demanded water, but his swollen lips refused to voice his needs. He tried again but didn't recognize the sound that came from his mouth.

  "Don't try to speak." The voice was soothing and fe­male. "I'm going to lift your head so you can drink. You must be parched." A woman's soft breasts cradled his head.