To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8)

to catch a fallen spy

barbara devlin

copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2016 Barbara C. Noyes

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Barbara Devlin

The Brethren of the Coast Badge is a registered trademark ® of Barbara Devlin.

Cover art by Lewellen Designs

ISBN: 978-0-9962509-7-9

titles by

barbara devlin

BRETHREN OF THE COAST SERIES

Loving Lieutenant Douglas: A Brethren of the Coast Prequel

Enter the Brethren

My Lady, the Spy

The Most Unlikely Lady

One-Knight Stand

Captain of Her Heart

The Lucky One

Love with an Improper Stranger

To Catch a Fallen Spy

BRETHREN ORIGINS

Arucard

Demetrius

PIRATES OF THE COAST

The Black Morass

KATHRYN LE VEQUE’S KINDLE WORLD OF DE WOLFE PACK

Lone Wolfe

dedication

This work is dedicated to my dear friend and unfailing supporter Kathryn Falk, Lady of Barrow. Kathryn has seen me through some dark hours, and her sense of humor always makes me laugh. Love you, Kathryn.

to catch a fallen spy

Prologue

The Ascendents

England

The Year of Our Lord 1316

“It is good
to have the Brethren beneath my roof, again.” Yawning, Arucard stretched, rubbed his eyes, and joined his fellow Nautionnier Knights in the Great Hall at Chichester Castle. “And how did ye sleep, Morgan? Thou didst arrive late with Hawisia, and we didst not speak much. Art thou faring well this blessed morn?”

“Ah, thither is naught but joy in my world, now that my wife is with child.” The youngest member of the distinguished order grinned. “I am to be a father, Arucard.” Morgan’s gaze grew misty. “Didst thou ever believe it would happen?”

“Aye, knowing ye and thy much-professed penchant for the work.” Chuckling, Arucard studied the favored gadling and noted the stark change in his longtime friend. Despite Morgan’s rough start in the marital realm, which involved more than his fair share of injuries and spilt blood, he at last found his footing, and Arucard marveled at the striking transformation of the bawdy and immature lad to the focused and responsible adult. “I gather ye dost harbor no regrets in regard to thy nuptials?”

“None whatsoever.” Morgan flagged the housekeeper. “Margery, may I have a bowl of sop, some bread, and a flagon of ale?”

“Of course, Sir Morgan.” She dipped her chin. “The meal should be served as soon as the food is heated, but I will check with the kitchen staff, by thy leave.”

“Thou art hungry, brother?” Demetrius gave Morgan a gentle nudge. “Hast thou engaged in questionable activities with thy spouse, to inspire thy appetite?”

“No more than ye, I presume.” Snickering, Morgan waggled his brows. “But my intentions art honorable, as I endeavor to keep my wife happy, and she is quite the demanding little thing.”

“Oh, the sacrifices we make to please our women.” Extending his arms above his head, Aristide groaned as he joined the knights. “My Dion all but attacked me this morning, but that is an observation, not a complaint, though I know not what possessed her, as she bit me.”

“It is good to be a husband, is it not?” Arucard slapped Demetrius on the shoulder. “Isolde and I labor to produce a third de Villiers, and she is rather insistent that it will happen now.” And he savored sweet memories of the heated exchange, as he adored Isolde’s aggressive fortitude, which contrasted with her initial demeanor and drove him to the brink of insanity. In fact, only minutes ago, he left her abed, sleeping the sleep of the sated, after he instigated their morning exercise. “But if I am lucky, it will take us a while, as she ambushed me after weapons practice, yesterday, and I hope for an encore performance this eventide.”

“What got into them, dost thou suspect?” With a grimace, Demetrius scratched his chin. “Lily barricaded the door to our chambers and pounced as soon as I returned from the evening hunt, and I almost did not attend sup, but I was starving by the time she set me free.”

“Art thou truly baffled?” Of course, Arucard had been married long enough to gain an in-depth understanding of the female spirit. “Didst thou not notice Hawisia is increasing?”

A chorus of sighs echoed in the Great Hall.

“I will never comprehend the competitive nature of our women.” When a servant placed a steaming bowl of sop before Demetrius, he picked up a spoon but paused. “Wherefore can they not follow our example and find contentment in their circumstances?”

“Indeed.” Aristide nodded. “Hither we assemble, knights of the realm, estimable fighting men, and lords of prestigious holdings, yet we do not resort to such childish games.”

“Of which Winchester is the largest.” Demetrius tore a chunk of bread from a loaf. “But what does it matter?”

“Which is wherefore we lead, and the ladies follow,” remarked Morgan, with a stiff upper lip. “Although Norwich is far wealthier.”

“But Rochester is more valuable to the King.” Aristide pointed for emphasis. “Which is wherefore His Majesty assigned me to govern it, as I am blessed with enviable organizational skills.”

As expected, his brothers commenced the contest without prompting, because some things never changed. But Arucard suspected his friends would sing another tune were their respective other halves present. And he had committed his fair share of fierce comparisons, with regard to Isolde, on occasions too numerous to count, so he contributed naught to the conversation.

“Thou art quiet, brother.” Demetrius elbowed Arucard in the ribs. “May I posit a guess as to what silences ye?”

“You have to guess?” Rolling his eyes, Aristide snorted. “So when are we to break the news to Geoffrey, as I dread his reaction?”

Mid-chew, Morgan choked. “Thou hast received the official summons?”

“Aye.” And for a sennight, Arucard wrestled with the revelation that the Crown decreed the lone unattached Nautionnier Knight to wed, because of all the Brethren, Geoffrey was the most adamantly opposed to marriage. “Just last December, he vowed to die on the block before taking a wife. He swore he would rather burn at the stake than speak the vows.”

And Arucard feared for Geoffrey. Not since the delivery of the royal decree announcing Demetrius’s impending nuptials had Arucard worried for the neck of a fellow knight. But Geoffrey held tight to the old traditions, which threatened a host of wicked maladies, including blindness and lunacy, for even a casual violation.

“So he remains opposed to a union?” Morgan winced. “I would not want to be in thy boots when ye dost tell him.”

“Opposed is putting it lightly.” A string of invective filled Arucard’s ears, and he shuddered, as he recalled his previous debates with Geoffrey.

“Thou dost think to avoid the drama?” With an open palm, Aristide smacked Morgan’s forehead. “As we convened to reveal the King’s command to ye, thou wilt attend thy brother’s day of reckoning, in a show of support, and thou wilt portray a most happy husband.”

“It did not work for ye.” Arucard gazed at the ceiling.

“That is because I lingered in a perpetual state of ignorance, much like Aristide and Morgan, when I faced the same situation.” To Arucard’s irritation, Demetrius smirked. “And did ye not vomit in His Majesty’s presence when he ordered ye to take Isolde as thy mate?”

“I forgot about that.” Slapping a thigh, Aristide guffawed.

“I see no need to revisit past embarrassments.” Arucard still chafed at the remembrance. However, in his defense, he was the first to confront the altar. “But as I already mentioned, hither we meet to appeal to Geoffrey’s passion for logic and reason. As long as I have known him, he has always been a sensible man, even though he insists he would rather lose his head than his chastity.”

“He hath no idea what he is missing,” Aristide replied, under his breath.

“Doth Geoffrey honestly believe he can evade fate?” Then Morgan opened and closed his mouth. “Because if thither is aught I have learned about the singular emotion; it is that love takes no prisoners, and thither is no escape, no matter how far or fast ye might run. And I
am
a most happy husband.”

“Perchance thou canst convince Geoffrey that he will enjoy similar good fortune.” If Arucard were to succeed in dragging—aye, dragging Geoffrey to the church, Arucard required steadfast allies. As he wiped clean his bowl, he envisioned Isolde, with her hair splayed across her pillow, her features softened in repose, and her warm body that melded perfectly with his. “Mayhap we can discuss our approach when he arrives.” He peered at the entry. “Although I am surprised he hath not shown himself, as he is usually prompt for every meal.”

Just then, Pellier strolled into the Great Hall. “Good morrow, my lord.”

“Art thou not supposed to precede thy wife in thy duties?” With a frown, Arucard canted his head. “Thou art late, as Margery hath been in the kitchens since dawn.”

“As well she should be, given such drudgery is women’s work.” When Margery appeared to refill the mugs, Pellier smacked her bottom. “Bring me some food, wench.”

“Get it thyself, little man.” The housekeeper placed another loaf of bread in a trencher. “And pick up thy dishes when ye art done, as I serve his lordship—not ye.”

“Ah, I love ye, brazen lass, especially when ye dost give me sauce.” Again, he swatted her backside. “Fetch my meal, because thou art crazy about me, and thou cannot resist me.”

“I must be crazy to have married ye.” Margery humphed, turned on a heel, and set a bowl at Pellier’s usual spot. “Thither is thy sustenance.”

“Now that is a right and obedient wife.” As he straddled the bench, Pellier caught Margery by the wrist, hauled her into his lap, and claimed a loud kiss. “Tell me ye dost love me, as thou dost own my heart.”

In a fit of pique that had Arucard biting his tongue, Margery lifted her chin. “Thou dost know well how I feel, little man, but if thou dost require it, I love ye.”

With that, Pellier released his much better half. “And if ye art expecting Sir Geoffrey, thou art in for a long wait, as he departed before the sun peeked over the horizon.”

“Oh?” A shiver of unease traipsed Arucard’s spine. “Whither hath he gone?”

Pellier shrugged. “Said something about meeting destiny on a road of his choice.”

In unison, the Brethren scrambled from their seats.

“Sound the alarm, summon the master of the horse, and saddle our mounts.” Arucard ran toward the double-door entrance. “Geoffrey hath fled.”