Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2) (27 page)

A few days later, Emma was preparing for her wedding with the
help of Lady Serena and Maggie when Finna rushed into the chamber.

Proudly holding a beautiful garland of wildflowers in her
upturned palms, Finna said, “Inga helped me. Do you like it?” Ribbons of
crimson, green and blue trailed from the fragrant crown of wildflowers.

Smiling at Finna, whose face glowed with happiness, Emma
accepted the wreath and placed it on her head. “’Tis lovely.”

The garland settled on her head perfectly. The ribbons
cascaded down her back over her long, flaxen hair she wore loose.

Finna stared up at Emma, the child’s fawn-like brown eyes
wide. “You are beautiful, Emma.”

She bent to kiss Finna. “I am so glad you think so. Thank
you for the garland. ’Tis a wonderful gift for my wedding.”

“I am glad you are marrying Sir Geoffroi,” Finna said, “even
if he is one of the Bastard’s knights.”

“Finna!”

Serena laughed. “You will not hear me scolding the lass.”
The lady of Talisand and Emma had quickly bonded. Each had lost much with the
coming of the Conqueror, yet each had gained. They shared their dislike of the
Norman king and their love for their Norman knights.

Maggie pulled tight the laces of the shimmering, blue-green,
silk gown Serena had given Emma. She felt honored that Talisand’s lady would
bestow upon her such a fine gown since her own gowns had been left in York. She
had managed to save her jewelry, some of the pieces gifts from her father, like
the gold neck ring she wore today. It was comforting to know in this small way
he was with her.

Finna turned from Emma to go to Alexander, the year-old heir
to Talisand, who sat on a fur playing with a carved wooden horse. Next to him
lay Magnus as if guarding the young child. “Alexander is always so happy,” said
Finna.

“When he is not in a temper,” said Maggie, helping Emma into
her shoes. “The babe is much like his father.”

Serena smiled at her young son from where she sat on the bed
watching him. “He is that. Ren is very proud of Alexander.” Stroking her
rounded belly, she said, “I wonder if this next babe will be like him. Alex’s
hair is near black. You would never know his mother has fair hair.”

“Alex will be a handsome man,” said Emma gazing at the babe
who entertained Finna with his carved horse. “He has the look of his sire about
him.”

“I would like the next one to be a girl,” announced Serena,
“but Maugris says ’twill be another male cub for the Red Wolf.”

Emma did not have the courage to tell them she was carrying
Geoffroi’s child, but when she had told him he was to be a father in the fall,
he was pleased. ’Twas fortunate she had been thin when she came to Talisand as
her condition was not yet apparent to the others.

“One thing is surely true,” said Emma to Serena. “Your Alex
will have many playmates.”

“Aye,” said Maggie, standing back to gaze at Emma’s
appearance, nodding her approval. “’Tis like a spring crop of lambs, Cassie’s
bairn, Rory, with his head of red hair like his mother, Aethel’s little Lora,
dark-haired and fair, and Inga’s golden-headed Merewyn. They’ll grow up
together with the ones ye two will add to their number.” She cast a glance at
Emma and then at her mistress, Serena.

“The way Sir Niel is making eyes at your friend, Inga,”
Serena remarked to Emma, “’twill be another wedding soon.” Emma had been
heartened to see the way all at Talisand had embraced her friend, particularly
Aethel, Sir Alain’s wife. Geoffroi had noticed Sir Niel staring at Inga and
told her he had been knighted four years before as a result of his bravery at
the Battle of Hastings. Like Sir Alain, Sir Niel had a scar on his jaw. Emma
thought it was a good thing since Inga, too, bore a scar though hers was not
visible.

“’Tis time the young knight takes a wife,” said Maggie,
gathering up the things she had brought to the chamber. “But he may have to
fight Sir Mathieu fer her. That one is also besotted with the young beauty.”

“Sir Mathieu is going to marry me!” pronounced Finna, rising
to her feet to face the three women. Emma was shocked at the serious tone from
her young charge. But the other women laughed.

“Do not doubt her,” said Emma. “If my gentle Finna has risen
to announce such a thing, Mathieu can consider himself well and truly claimed.
Remember, she is but eight years younger than he.”

“Well,” said Serena, “those brown eyes of hers could charm
an angel out of his wings. Of course, Mathieu looks at her now as a child, but
when she is a woman...”

“Come,” said Maggie, urging Emma toward the door. “Ye’ll
have time to talk about the babes after the weddin’.”

Emma left the chamber with the lady of Talisand, followed by
Finna. Maggie stayed behind to care for baby Alexander. Magnus, too, remained.
He had taken on a new role as protector of the young ones.

At the bottom of the stairs, Geoffroi waited, looking every
bit like a nobleman with a dark green woolen tunic, embroidered in silver
thread at the shoulders. Around his waist was a black and silver belt with an
elegant, matching sheath for his sword. “My lady,” he bowed. “How I have longed
to see this day.”

“And I, sir knight.” She had thought to be calm but now her
heart raced as the moment for them to be made one drew near.

He took her hand and placed it on his arm. Together they
walked to the village where they would say their vows at the door of the stone
church. The villagers and her friends from York had lined up on either side of
their path, greeting them with smiles as they passed. Serena had told Emma that
Geoffroi was one of the villagers’ favorites so all had come to share their
day. Most were English and happy to see a favored knight had taken a bride from
York.

Behind Emma and Geoffroi walked the Red Wolf and his lady
and the other knights and their wives.

As they strolled toward the church, Geoffroi leaned in to
whisper, “I think I began to love you when I first saw you with your great
hound. Not every knight can wed a Valkyrie, you know.” At her puzzled look, he
added, “That is how I saw you that first day I rode into York. You and Magnus
were striding through the crowd. When your plea spared my life, I was certain.
Aye, a Valkyrie.”

The church came into view ahead of them and Emma saw a priest
waiting before the chapel door. There was so much she wanted to say, so much
she could have said. He was her life now, her future. But what she said was,
“’Tisn’t true. I am no Valkyrie. I am merely a woman who deeply loves her
knight.”

As they reached the church door, he brought her hand to his
lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Looking into her eyes, he whispered,
“For the rest of my life, Emma, I will be glad I am that knight.”

Bestselling author Regan Walker loved to write stories as a
child, particularly those about adventure-loving girls, but by the time she got
to college more serious pursuits took priority. One of her professors
encouraged her to pursue the profession of law, which she did. Years of serving
clients in private practice and several stints in high levels of government
gave her a love of international travel and a feel for the demands of the
“Crown” on its subjects. Hence her romance novels often involve a demanding
sovereign who taps his subjects for “special assignments”. In each of her
novels, there is always real history and real historic figures.

Regan lives in San Diego with her golden retriever, Link,
whom she says inspires her every day to relax and smell the roses.

www.ReganWalkerAuthor.com

If you enjoyed
Rogue Knight
, please do post a review.
They are much appreciated. And if you want to communicate with me there is a
“Contact Regan” page on my website where you can also sign up for my
newsletter.

I invite you to visit my Pinterest board for
Rogue Knight
:
https://www.pinterest.com/reganwalker123/rogue-knight-by-regan-walker/
.
There, you can view images of the characters as I see them, maps, the books I
used as a part of my research and all images connected with the story.

You might like to read the beginning of
The Red Wolf’s
Prize
, book 1 in the series, just after my list of books.

The Medieval Warriors series:

The Red Wolf’s Prize

Rogue Knight

Rebel Warrior
, coming in 2016

King’s Knight
, coming 2016

The Agents of the Crown series:

To Tame the Wind

Racing with the Wind

Against the Wind

Wind Raven

Holiday Stories
(related to the Agents of the Crown):

The Shamrock & The Rose

The Twelfth Night Wager

The Holly & The Thistle

Prologue

County of Maine, south of Normandy 1063

“Wolves!” Renaud de Pierrepont’s voice was a low hiss as the
howl of a wolf pierced the thin night air, setting every nerve on end. The heat
of the battle lust from the assault at Mayenne had worn off long ago. The wind
blowing in gusts off the snow caused his sweat to grow cold.

Clutching his mantle tightly around him, Renaud glanced at
Geoffroi de Tournai, riding beside him. The knight’s eyes were focused on the
dark woods as if trying to penetrate their depths.

“The beast is close,” whispered Geoff.

Renaud’s horse tossed its head, sidestepping away from the
rock outcropping in front of the trees. Reining him in, Renaud took off his
glove and reached out to stroke Belasco’s sleek gray coat.

The predator howled again.

“Do I imagine it, Geoff, or are there more in the woods
these last days?”

“’Tis the lack of game, Ren. The wolves suffer along with
our men. No knight can fight without meat to sustain him.”

“Cheer up, my hungry friend,” encouraged Renaud. “The
campaign for Maine is over. Duke William has his victory. We will soon return
north to his table in Rouen where food and wine are plentiful.”

Geoff grinned. “And you can claim a share in the duke’s
victory since ’twas you who provided the strategy that gave him his victory.”

“It was only a thought I had that appealed to him.
He
is the master of strategy.”

“’Twas more than that, Ren, and well he knows it. William
values your advice as few others. ’Tis a fact he is a worthy master. Make no
mistake, you will have your reward.”

“I am but William’s man, Geoff. Mayhap one day that will—”

Without warning the wolf leaped from the rocks and sank its
claws into his hauberk, cutting off his words. Yellow eyes flashed as the beast
bared its teeth and reached toward the pulsing vein that held his life’s blood.
Gripping the fur of the wolf’s shoulders, he strained to hold the beast at bay.

The panicked horses screamed. His stallion reared, toppling
man and beast to the snow-covered ground. Renaud hit the frozen earth with a
heavy thud, his breath leaving him with the force of a fist in his gut. Gasping
for air, he struggled to hold the beast’s snapping jaws away from his neck.

Geoff quickly dismounted and drew his sword but it was a
fruitless effort.

Renaud and the beast rolled across the frozen ground, locked
in a battle to the death, leaving Geoff no clear target.

Renaud grunted as his bare hand slipped on the wolf’s
throat. The beast jerked its head around and sank its teeth into the flesh of
Renaud’s wrist. He shouted his anger as pain burned through his arm and blood
trickled over his hand.

For a scant moment, the wolf released its hold on his wrist
allowing Renaud to grip the wolf’s neck below the snapping, snarling jaws.

Geoff circled the battling pair, looking for any opening to
offer assistance.

Razor sharp claws raked Renaud’s hauberk as the beast sought
to tear the flesh beneath.

Rolling on top of the wolf, Renaud delivered a crushing knee
kick to its body. But the wolf’s desperate fight continued.

Drawing upon his remaining strength, Renaud straddled the
thrashing animal. With an anguished battle cry, he jerked the beast’s head to
the side and twisted the corded muscles of its neck.

The wolf’s neck gave with a crack. Its body went limp.

The battle was over.

Renaud gasped in the frigid air, his frosted breath escaping
his lips in a rush, as relief flowed through him. His throat burned and his
lungs heaved as he looked down upon the dead wolf still clutched in his hands.
The smell of blood, like iron and earth, rose to his nostrils.

“
Mon Dieu
!” He thrust the carcass away.

Geoff sheathed his sword and rushed to Renaud, kneeling at
his side. “Here,” he said, handing him a cloth, “wrap this around your wrist
’til we can see to it properly. We had best be away. The scent of blood will
draw more.”

Still breathing heavily, Renaud wrapped the cloth tightly
around his damaged wrist and rose, brushing snow off his mantle with his
uninjured hand. He whistled and his stallion turned toward him from where he
pawed at the ground a short distance away. It seemed the animal was as eager as
his master to leave the dark threatening woods.

Renaud strode toward his approaching horse with Geoff close
on his heels. The woods had gone quiet, the jingling of their spurs on the
ice-crusted snow the only sound.

He paused as a thought came unbidden. Turning, he looked
past Geoff to the dead animal lying in the snow. The full moon’s light
reflected off the white-blanketed earth revealing the copper tinge of the
beast’s fur. An unusual red wolf.

“What is it?” Geoff asked.

“Bring the wolf. I may have a use for its pelt. Mayhap
’twill serve as a worthy reminder to any who cross me in the future. Their fate
will be the same.”

Copyright 2014 Regan Walker