The Warrior and Lady Rebel: Warrior Brides

By Teresa Smyser

Lightning and thunder crash around her as Elizabeth runs from her pursuer. She rests for only a moment ... or so she thinks.

 

Castles ... swords ... men of war ... Elizabeth is stunned! How did she arrive in England? Who brought her here? As she struggles to uncover the events that landed her at Fairwick Castle, nothing is as it should be. Danger surrounds her. Forced to put her trust in the arrogant Lord Nicolas Fairwick, Elizabeth prays for God's intervention.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mt. Zion Ridge Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781949564969

Book preview

Chapter One

August 5, 1611

Elizabeth’s eyes popped open to total darkness. What startled her awake? With heart pounding and blood rushing through her ears, she didn’t move.

There ... angry voices. Poppa argued with another man! Bam ... bam. She bolted upright at the sound. Frantically trying to untangle herself from the bedlinens, she heard a scream. Was someone hurting her grandparents?

In haste, she grabbed the sword she kept under the bed and stumbled toward the door. She rushed down the hallway toward the back stairway. She tiptoed halfway down and paused, listening. Hearing a door slam, she hurried on toward the kitchen.

Hoping to catch the predator unaware and knock him in the head with the hilt, she snuck up to the doorway and peeked around the edge. The kitchen stood empty. With the sword held at ready, she moved farther into the room. Her gaze darted around. The kitchen stool overturned. Blood dripped from the table and pooled on the floor. Fear choked her.

With heart pounding, she followed blood drops toward the kitchen door. Emerging into the yard, the raging storm slapped her in the face. Rain came down in torrents. Lightning struck. Where were Nana and Poppa?

She screamed, Nana! Poppa!

In a matter of seconds her drenched hair blocked her view. She raked her left hand through the matted mess and saw the barn engulfed in flames!

Oh no, Cinnamon! She dashed toward the barn to save her horse. She came to an abrupt halt when Sir Arthur emerged from the door holding a loaded crossbow. He yanked on the horse’s halter.

He’s trying to escape on Cinnamon!

Arthur looked up when the horse twisted in a circle. His eyes connected with hers, her body an easy target standing in the middle of the yard. With the cottage too far for Elizabeth to run back, she sprinted toward the trees before Arthur could get off a shot. She had to get away from him.

His evil laughter floated on the wind. You cannot escape!

She barely heard him over the fierce storm. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, but Elizabeth kept running. If she could make it to her old tree house, she would be safe. Arthur didn’t know about her hideaway that Poppa had built for her. With a fleeting look backward, she saw two men running toward her. Thankfully, Cinnamon escaped.

The rain-saturated gown weighed her down. She held it up with one hand while running for her life. Rocks and sticks cut into the soft flesh of her feet, but nothing stopped her. The wet foliage caused her to slip. The sword flew from her hand, hidden from sight in the tall undergrowth. Her knee was sliced open as she collided with a jagged stone. She gulped for air as she pushed herself up. Her fear of Arthur and his ally was stronger than her pain.

As she raced through the underbrush, briars tore at her gown, grabbing her as fingers from the dark, scratching like fingernails. Her flesh tore as she tugged to get free from their grasp. No stopping. Her place of safety close at hand. Her white gown a beacon in the night. Can they still see me? She dared not pause to look behind. Only a little farther.

Rain pelted her like knife pricks. The storm surrounded her as she sprinted toward her goal. The thunderstorm a double-edged sword. It drowned out her pounding footsteps, but it kept her from hearing Arthur’s pursuit. There! Her rope ladder swayed in the wind. She frantically grabbed for it, but it slipped through her wet hands. One more attempt and she had a firm hold on it. Her bloody feet slid on the rungs as she struggled to reach the first tree limb. She concentrated on placing one foot after the other until she reached the last rung.

Her fingernails dug into the tree as she managed to get her stomach over the limb. Her feet struggled to be free of the gown so she could throw her leg over and straddle the limb. Once there, she secured the rope ladder high out of sight. The hidden platform waited farther up.

Elizabeth climbed to the next limb and grasped it. She couldn’t give up. Her life depended on her reaching the safety of the tree house. Thankfully, the tree was in full bloom with the leaves shielding her from Arthur’s sight. At last, she reached the wooden lodge high above the ground and crawled to the center of its floor. Tucking her knees under her chin with arms wrapped around her legs, she panted for breath.

God, hide my place of safety. Hide me from Arthur and his accomplice. Please don’t let Nana and Poppa die. I’ll get help as soon as I can escape. Help me, please, help me!

Elizabeth kept repeating her prayer like a chant. The longer she sat still, the more even her breathing became. As her racing heart slowed, she felt God’s peace cover her shivering body. She could hear Arthur’s voice off in the distance, heading away from her. Soon all she heard was the rain and the wind slashing through the night. God had protected her.

Her mind raced with possible solutions to outsmart the scoundrel and his partner, each one discarded as soon as it entered her mind. A circle of blood grew as her injured knee pressed against the white gown.

God would provide a way, she was sure of it. She eased down on her side and tucked her feet into the gown, forming a human ball. Before she could figure out her strategy, she fell into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Two

Lord Nicolas Fairwick yearned for home. His men and horses needed to recover from their last encounter. Why the king had sent them on such a useless campaign, he couldn’t fathom. They gained nothing but lost much. It was good fortune Nicolas returned with all of his men, except one.

Poor Arnold. Trampled by his own horse when he became unseated during a skirmish. A wasted death.

Nicolas shook his head. At least he had been more fortunate than Lord Sherwood and Lord Mathias of neighboring estates, who had lost numerous gallant knights.

M’lord, what is up ahead? Thomas asked.

Nicolas jerked back to the present at the sound of his brother’s voice. Something white lay on the roadside. He couldn’t quite make it out from the distance. His jaw clinched. Thomas, take three men and approach with caution. It could well be a trap.

With one simple hand gesture, the rest of his men came to a halt. Each one kept a watchful eye on the nearby landscape, ready to do battle if, in fact, it was an ambush. Thomas and the men approached with great care.

Thomas dismounted as the other three men stood guard. Leaving his horse, he crept closer, his sword at ready. He knelt beside the body and turned it over. His head jerked back as he motioned to his brother.

Nicolas rode up to Thomas and halted. Ten of his men fanned out in a semi-circle around the body, facing outward to guard against attack. His nostrils flared. A woman! The bare feet slashed and bloodied. The dark hair matted with blood. He removed his helmet and rested it on his thigh. Someone had badly used her and left her at his doorstep. Now she was his problem.

A deep frown covered his face. Does she live?

She breathes, m’lord, Thomas answered.

Nicolas raked his hand across his dripping wet face as he blew out a snort. Bring her. He replaced his helmet, nudged his horse, and proceeded down the path toward home. With all in his realm knowing the history behind his family, the woman was a bad sign.

Not sure what he would do with the woman, he hoped someone claimed her soon, therefore relieving him of a decision. He didn’t need another woman in his castle. His unwed sister was enough to deal with each day.

He was tired, dirty, and disgusted with life. As it began to drizzle, he added miserable to his list of grievances. For all that was holy, God must be punishing him for his sins.

The one hundred men who accompanied Lord Fairwick rode in silence. The woman’s condition filtered down the line through whispers. Since Lord Fairwick forbade unwed women in his castle, only time would determine her fate.

Nicolas rode in front. Erect in his saddle, he set a prideful example for his men. They would enter the gates unashamedly. The knights and fighting men under his command were the best in the region. They had fought gallantly. Even though none could see any good coming from their campaign, no one had complained. Each time they rode out, it was at great risk to his men and his castle. However, the latest event, finding a woman, could bring a worse kind of disaster, if not to the castle life, to him.

After thirty minutes of travel, Thomas nudged his horse to catch up to his brother. Nicolas cut his eyes over as Thomas approached but made no move to recognize him. Mayhap, if he ignored his brother, he would stay silent.

Nick, a word with you?

Silence.

Nick? Silence. You can’t ignore me forever.

What say you? Nicolas’s gruff voice rumbled.

This woman I rescued is heavy. She didn’t look big on the ground, but she’s dead weight. Since I’ve a wounded arm, might someone else see to her care?

Who would you suggest, Thomas? His frown deepened. Who of the men is not weak from hunger and exhausted from our journey? Or injured? Who Thomas?

His brother kept pace with him You are correct, Lord Brother. When I think of the strongest warrior in our midst, I think of only one. Just one stands out as mighty ... and strong... and vigorous... and...

Cease, Nicolas belted out with frustration. Hand her over. I will remember your whining ways. The next time we’re called into battle, you will be left home watching children.

Thomas made the transfer to Nicolas without requiring either of them to dismount. Nicolas communicated his annoyance when he plopped her in his saddle. Yet, he wrapped the body in his cloak to give her a chance for survival.

His brother just laughed at his gruffness. He had learned long ago that Thomas ignored his sharp tongue. No doubt, Thomas knew women brought out his dark side, but he never planned to reveal why. No need to taint his outlook.

Thomas dropped back into formation, leaving him to his gloomy thoughts. Darkness descending upon them added to his low spirit. One positive observation—in a few more miles, the castle would be in view.

Nicolas glanced down into the woman’s face. With dimming light, it appeared scratched and bloody. Her knotted hair stuck to one side of her face. He didn’t know why Thomas whined about her weight. Her lightness resembled a child. Another peek confirmed his original thought. She wouldn’t last the night.

With a hand signal, Braden, his battle commander, appeared at his side.

Take Hastings and Elwood to fetch Agnes.

Braden hastened at the sharp command.

The three men broke rank and rode off toward the village.

Nicolas summoned Agnes when the injuries appeared critical. Many of the men feared her. Whispers circulated through the village that she might even be a witch. Of course, he trusted her, so they questioned him not.

He never tired of seeing his castle shining bright in the night. The gatekeeper heralded their arrival. Torches burned all across the parapet to welcome the weary travelers. He crossed the wooden drawbridge first and rode to the steps of the keep. There he turned to wait while his men trotted past the gatehouse. All others ogled him and his bundle. A few gasps fell silent with one stern look from him. No one would outwardly question his decision to bring a strange woman into the castle, but speculation would abound.

Phillip, have Abigail see that Collette prepares our mother’s room for our guest. Nicolas tossed Phillip a key he extracted from the pouch attached to his belt. His older brother hesitated but a moment before turning to do Nicolas’s bidding. Nicolas’s heart ached as Phillip hobbled away, his war injury evident. The exaggerated limp twisted his gut at the memory of that fateful battle.

Shaking off his melancholy, he watched his men ride through the gates, filling him with great satisfaction. The processional took time, but it reminded him that he had returned with all of his men except one—Arnold. He crossed himself at the remembrance. Once the last man crossed inside the gates, he climbed down from his destrier, the woman still in his arms.

With long, confident strides, he passed Gilbert and Jarvis who waited on the top step of the keep to welcome him home. Too old for battle, Nicolas kept them busy with other duties. He hoped they wouldn’t question him, but he was not so fortunate.

What have ye in thy arms, m’lord? Jarvis asked.

Naught of import, Jarvis.

But, m’lord, it looks like a woman. Gilbert tried to peek at her, but Nicolas turned his shoulder and quickened his pace. In no mood to listen to those two or anyone else about his guest, he marched past the great hall and made for the rooms above.

He bellowed over his shoulder. Jarvis, be prepared to make ready all Agnes will need. He waited for no reply as he took to the stairs.

Phillip stood at the top of the stairs in silence until Nicolas passed. What think you, brother?

Trouble.

AS ABIGAIL, PHILLIP’S wife, turned the key, the door opened on squeaky hinges. Nicolas had ordered the room locked after his father’s death, and nary a one had been in the room for years. Abigail stood watch as Collette scurried to prepare the room adjoined to Nicolas’s room. She knocked down multiple cobwebs before adding clean linens to the rope bed.

One could access the room only by passing through Lord Fairwick’s room. The two rooms had once belonged to his parents years ago. Abigail shuddered and crossed herself. Their father had kept their mother, Lady Isolde, a prisoner in her own home. Many times locked in her room for inane reasons. Some of the peasants believed the room haunted by Lady Isolde, trying to right the wrongs done to her.

Hurry, Collette, Abigail snapped.

Collette rushed through her tasks to ready the room for the mysterious visitor. After she finished, she ran to fetch clean water, leaving Abigail alone in the room.

Is all at ready? Nicolas asked.

With thoughts of ghosts soaring around in her head, Abigail jumped and dropped the key. She whipped her head around. Nicolas filled the doorway.

Yea, m’lord, she meekly replied as she curtsied.

Stop with your act, Abigail. I have no time for it. His voice weary.

A flash of anger passed across her face, then she masked her emotions. She straightened, picked up the key, and stepped away from the bed and him. With a gentle touch, he placed the woman on the bed and backed away.

You will remain with her until Agnes arrives. He spun around to leave the room.

But, but...

Nicolas ignored her sputtering and stalked out the door.

Of all the... Abigail grumbled. One day, Phillip will take over his rightful place as Lord of this castle.

Standing near the bed, she stared at the woman. The fine, white linen gown showed traces of mud and blood. Dried blood covered her feet and the side of her head.

Abigail picked up a candle and leaned closer. A ring glistened on her finger. The jewels in the ring indicated a woman of consequence. She set the candle down on the table and reached for the woman’s hand.

Abigail, what do ye here?

Abigail jerked back so fast that she stumbled over her own feet and bumped the table. She had enough presence of mind to grab the candle before it toppled onto the woman.

Agnes set down the water Collette had given her when they met in the hallway. Up to nay good if ye ask me.

Don’t talk to me like that, old woman. You forget your place.

Nay, I know me place. Ye forget yours.

Abigail’s eyes blazed at the reference to her lower station after Nicolas became lord. How dare you speak thusly. With head held high, she swept from the room without offering to help.

NICOLAS EDGED INSIDE the room.

She’s in a dreadful state, Agnes said.

Well, I know it. I’m surprised she still breathes, Nicolas whispered.

Close the door. I want nary a one hearing us.

Nicolas did as requested. He knew the need of secrecy as well. He came to the foot of the bed and waited.

Her clothing is of the finest cloth, and this ring ... we must tread carefully with this one. She belongs to someone of import.

Verily, I know it! Nicolas boomed. Agnes gave him the look, and he had the decency to duck his head. Forgive my loud voice.

He disliked it when Agnes made him feel like a young lad who misbehaved. He was the lord of the castle, and she didn’t care. Of course, that was what he liked about her, too. She didn’t give him preferential treatment. Agnes treated everyone the same—friend or foe.

I don’t need an ill-treated woman in the castle. I could easily be accused of her mistreatment if ’tis some trap. Unfortunately, my family history precedes me.

Agnes stopped her ministrations and turned to him. Ye are not thy father.

Thankfully, nay, but there are those who would bring me low over this incident, and well you know it.

Ye borrow trouble before it’s time. Instead, ye should be pray’n for Lady Katherine’s recovery.

Who? You know this woman? His voice had gone up a few notches.

Nay, m’lord, but she needed a name, so I gave her one. I couldn’t keep calling her ‘the woman’. Turning back to Lady Katherine, Agnes resumed her work.

Thinking there was nothing he could do, Nicolas turned to leave. He needed a bath and food.

Wait. There is something I want ye to see.

Nicolas came to stand beside her as she gingerly removed the blanket from the woman’s leg. Look closely at her leg.

He took the candle and leaned in for a closer look. His stomach quivered when he saw her well defined calf and small ankle. I see scratches and cuts. What is it you wish for me to notice? he asked with frustration, trying to hide his reaction to her shapely leg.

The cuts cover both legs in some type of pattern.

Nicolas wrenched upright and took a step back, his eyes wide. What could have caused it?

I know not. A ritual ... or possibly ... torture?

He rubbed his hand over his face. Speak of this to no one. I want no gossip traveling through the castle about it. Emotions churning, he strode over and unlocked his mother’s trunk.

Starring down at her clothes and harp, he took a ragged breath. Lock the woman’s gown and ring in my mother’s trunk. He placed the candle and trunk key on the table. With feet of clay, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Entering his room, he found Brigette standing near the outer portal. He was glad Agnes had insisted he close the door. He loved his sister, but Brigette could be a tale bearer.

What do you here, little sister? Wanting to help care for our guest? Nicolas knew Brigette shied away from anything that resembled work. At nearly fifteen summers, she knew nothing about running a household. The fault was his.

Nay, brother mine. I came to see how she fares.

Her kind voice fooled him not. She does well enough, but... Nicolas let his sentence trail off, for he knew Brigette’s mind. She worried about her place in his affections, and it being usurped by another. He looked up toward the ceiling as if in great thought. He could hear her fidgeting from one foot to another. "...if she heals nicely and turns out comely, hmm... I am in need of a wife."

What? she screeched. You wouldn’t dare. The king would have your head, and then Phillip and his hateful wife would take over. I couldn’t bear it, she said dramatically as she fell into a heap on the floor. You must send her away and quickly.

I grow weary of your theatrics, Brigette. They do not affect me. I will do what seems best for all. I don’t need you to direct my thoughts. With feet apart and arms crossed, he said, Get up from the floor and leave me.

Pushing herself off the floor, she flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. Of course, Nicolas. She sniffed. After wiping her eyes, she asked, Why is she in Mother’s room?

Leave it to Brigette to get to the heart of everyone’s curiosity. We know nothing about this woman. She could be friend or foe. Therefore, she is secure in this room with no way in or out without going past me. I also control who enters the room. Does that satisfy your inquiry?

Yea. Thank you, Nicolas. Shall I call for your bath? she asked.

Yea, thank you, he said. Her fluttering eyes were lost on him as his mind had already shifted to the woman, or more importantly, to his reaction to the woman. Afraid his father’s cruelty would manifest itself in him, Nicolas had forbidden unmarried women to live inside the castle walls. His mother’s suffering had left a horrifying impression forever etched in his memory.

Now, not only did temptation lay in his mother’s bed, but she had ripped open a raw wound in his heart that he thought had scarred over. God, forgive me, but please take her from this place tonight.

Chapter Three

When Nicolas rose for the day, darkness shrouded the room. He had slept little, anticipating Agnes telling him the woman, or rather Lady Katherine, had died. After dressing, he glanced into the adjoining room. Agnes dozed on her pallet beside the bed. He tiptoed toward the bed, only to see the covers rise and fall with each breath. Oh, she lived.

She has not stirred, Agnes grunted. I will alert ye when she dies.

It is probably for the best, but it will make it most difficult to find her family with nothing much to recommend her.

Go, break your fast. I’ll stay.

I will send Colette to see to your needs. With those parting words, he left the room on his way to the great hall. His steps slowed. He dreaded the inquisition about the woman, or should he say, Lady Katherine.

Descending the stairs, he heard the usual loud talking and rattling of dishes. It was comforting to hear it after the last three months away with the king.

As he entered the doorway, all eyes turned toward him and talking ceased. Not a sound. His footsteps on the stone floor sounded like a blacksmith’s hammer.

He stopped in the middle of the room and slowly turned in a circle with arms outstretched. Resume your meal. ’Tis only me. Nothing is amiss. His words ricocheted off the walls. Mentally shaking his head, he walked to the dais and sat down between his two brothers, Thomas and Phillip.

Thomas was poised to speak when Nicolas held up his hand. Without even looking at him, he said, Don’t ask one question until I have eaten. He then dipped his bread into the porridge and cream. The bite almost reached his lips when he heard Thomas’s aggravating voice.

Yea, Nicolas. Not one question. Turning to Phillip, he asked, Did you see the woman Nicolas brought to the castle?

Out! Now! His neck muscles bulged. He lowered his scowling face and surrounded his bowl with his arms, wishing he could make everyone disappear so he could eat in peace.

Thomas scrambled to leave the table, but not before giving a hearty slap to Nicolas’s back. I love ye, brother, Thomas whispered in his ear before darting out of reach. Wearing a big grin, he strolled out of the great hall.

You know he does that to irritate you, Phillip said between bites.

Yea, but he makes it nigh unto impossible to ignore him.

I hear he talked you into carrying the wench.

I’ll give him a beating in the lists today for his senseless chatter, Nicolas said.

Phillip laughed out loud. Sorry, brother, but your misery is my amusement.

Get your amusement elsewhere. Cream dripped down his chin.

On my way, dear brother. I must count the money. Phillip laughed as he moved from the dais.

Normally, Nicolas enjoyed bantering with his brothers, but not today. He watched Phillip limp from the hall. Weeks following an unfortunate accident, he had wavered between death and life. When death seemed inevitable, the title of lord passed to Nicolas since he was the middle brother.

Phillip had survived but with great physical limitations. Unable to sit a horse for any length of time, he remained confined to the castle unless he traveled in a wagon. Nicolas had put him in charge of keeping the castle books.

Nicolas kept his head low and ate his meal. He was tired from battling the king’s enemies and disgruntled about his houseguest. It was enough to make his head hurt. When the people cleared from the hall, he sighed. Peace at last.

Brigette bounced into the room. Oh, Nicolas, I didn’t realize you were in here.

Nicolas inwardly groaned. Another lie from his sister’s lips. He barely lifted his eyes to acknowledge Brigette’s presence. What is it that can’t wait until I have eaten my meal?

Oh, I don’t need anything from you this fine morning. I came to get some bread and cheese to take on my ride.

Unconcerned he kept eating. Where are you going?

Eugene is taking me to see a nest of baby birds down near the beach. Her voice dripped with sweetness.

Jumping to his feet with hands planted on the table, Not alone!

Of course, I won’t be alone. Eugene will be with me, she said with a huff.

He shook his head. You and Eugene cannot go alone without a chaperone. I have warned you of such impropriety. Colette and Hastings must accompany you.

You just want to spoil my pleasure. I don’t want those people with us. With fisted hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, she stood with feet apart. It’s just behind the castle on the beach, and Eugene is eighteen. He can defend me.

Abigail, Nicolas roared. No one else dared speak to him in that manner. Before Brigette turned to leave, he pinned her with his scowl. Don’t make a move. You are not going with Eugene. You are going to spend the day with Abigail learning household duties. If I am ever to find you a suitable match, you must know these things.

When he failed to give in, she tried her usual tactic—tears. Please don’t make me spend the day with that dreadful woman, please. I’ll forgo my trip with Eugene, but please don’t send for Abigail.

You will cease this caterwauling. Your insincere tears have no effect on me. Hot air blew from his nose. I have been remiss in my duty to you and will rectify it today. Abigail!

Abigail rushed into the room and came to a skidding halt. Yea, m’lord, you called for me?

You are to spend the day with Brigette; I want her to begin learning the duties befitting a lady. Report to me her progress at the end of the day. Understood?

She wrung her hands. But, m’lord, I ...

But, Nicolas, please... started Brigette at the same time.

He threw up his hands, palms out. Cease, both of you. That is my final word on the matter.

Nick, please, don’t do this, Brigette said. Her hands made a fist. I’m not going to do it. Spinning on her heel, she stomped from the great hall.

Brigette, come back here, Nicholas commanded.

WITHOUT MOVING HER head, Elizabeth cracked open her eyes and scanned the surroundings. Nothing looked familiar through her hazy vision. Her heart pounded in her head, making it hard to think. The stabbing pain that ran through her body was nearly unbearable. At the