A Knight for Two: The Moutrams, #3

By Naomi Aoki

Xanth longed for a family of his own...

 

Longed to be the one who fell pregnant...

 

Except what Xanth wanted was nothing more than a faniciful dream, because Rhaetian knights fathered children, they didn't give birth to them.

 

Or at least that's what Xanth thought, but a chance encounter with Ronan Moutram while at a tournament in the Kingdom of Suevia soon turns the Rhaetian knight's world on its head. A glimpse of a life he'd never thought possible. But after chasing Ronan all the way to Fort Behtan, Xanth quickly learns the path to his dreams is littered with complications, and soon finds himself caught between two men... two men who are as much one person as they are seperate people.

 

He'd wanted to spend two weeks with them, exploring their bodies and their growing attraction, but Xanth was only given three days before the world outside of Fort Behtan crashed back in... and three days might be all Xanth gets unless he can untangle himself from familial obligations and then convince the two men that the child he carries is theirs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NaomiAoki
• Release date: Aug 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201560355

Naomi Aoki

Naomi is a Kiwi born girl who spends a lot of time laughing at the antics of her kids who are all growing up way too fast, and trying to convince the cat that her lap isn't always a suitable bed. She alos loves to spend time listening to music, watching anime, C-Dramas, and disappearing into worlds created by other author. To keep up to date the latest news, sneak peeks at upcoming WIPs, and exclusive excerpts make sure to follow her on all the socials... https://linktr.ee/naomiaoki_mandygreenwood

Book preview

Content Warning

REFERENCES TO: MEDIEVAL medicine, implied traumatic birth, scenes between consenting adults of taboo nature that might not be enjoyed by all.

Characters

MOUTRAM FAMILY

Lord Zadkiel Moutram (54, married to Jere, Willem’s brother)

Sir Bauer (48, widower, Willem’s brother, Book Five)

Sir Cirillo (42, Willem’s brother)

Sir Willem (36, Book One)

Sir Eion (33, Zadkiel’s son)

Sir Bayard (28, Zadkiel’s son)

Sir Novark (26, Bauer’s son)

Barric (21, Willem’s Squire, Book Two)

Ronan (20, Zadkiel’s son, twin, physician, Book Three)

Sama’el (20, Zadkiel’s son, twin, apothecarist, Book Three)

Llyr (18, Bauer’s son, Bayard’s Squire)

Asger (17, Zadkiel’s son, Bauer’s squire)

Arawan (15, Zadkiel’s son, Novark’s squire)

Llylen (12, Zadkiel’s son, Jarret and Barric’s page/squire)

Royse (10, Zadkiel’s son)

Alden (5, Willem’s son)

Amren (1, Willem’s son)

Daesyn (infant, twin, Xanth’s son)

Tráthúil (infant, twin, Xanth’s son)

Feyre (infant, twin, Barric’s son)

Gayle (infant, twin, Barric’s son)

Other Characters

King Ailliard (deceased)

King Avan (37, married to Willem, Alden’s father)

Sir Jarret (36, Willem’s friend, Book Two)

Lord Belmont

Lord Belwitch (King Ailliard’s younger brother)

Fergus (Belwitch’s son, Avan’s former squire)

Sir Emyr (Nephew of Lord Crawfurd)

Merric (Blacksmith in Behstead)

Sir Xanth Hávardur (26, Rhaetian Knight, Ronan and Sama’el’s lover, Book Three)

Bardhyl (24, Rhaetian Cleric, Book Five)

Rhysand (Royal Physician)

Chapter One

LOVE AND THE GRACIOUS heart are a single thing...

one can be no more without the other.

...Dante Alighieri

Ronan slumped in his seat and ignored the disapproving looks being cast his way by his uncle. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to be here, finding the competitive art of jousting a fun way to spend an afternoon—when the option of fucking wasn’t available—even if actually participating in a tournament had never appealed. But then, being a knight had never appealed to him either, not once he realised it would mean being separated from his twin, Sama’el. Much easier to step into more academic pursuits like medicine where they could continue to remain at each other’s side. And they were lucky too, with a large family like theirs, there was no pressure for them to become knights or serve the king on the battlefield. Instead, he and Sama’el dealt with the injuries combat—competitive or sporting—produced, and that was far more exciting.

He sighed, scrubbed at his face before clapping along with everyone else as the next competitors rode onto the field and if it weren’t for the elbow in his ribs by his Uncle Willem, the Prince Regent, Ronan might have dozed off and missed his brother Barric’s first joust.

You sleep on the other side of the keep, and aren’t being woken several times during the night, so I don’t understand why you look more tired than me, his uncle grumbled while watching Barric keenly. Ronan didn’t envy his brother, knowing that both Willem and Sir Jarret—Barric’s soon-to-be-husband, if they’d only set a date, preferably before Jarret gave birth to their twins—would be pointing out where his technique could be improved later.

I’d be more concerned if Amren wasn’t waking you, he replied, wincing as he watched Barric take a nasty hit to the chest, surprised too when he remained seated on his horse when others would’ve been dislodged. But babies aren’t the only cause of sleepless nights, especially when you aren’t used to sleeping alone.

His uncle shifted in his seat, angling his body closer to Ronan to make sure no one overheard their conversation. The nature of his relationship with Sama’el was an open secret; well-known amongst their family and those who worked within the walls of Fort Behtan and yet never acknowledged either. You’ve spent time apart from Sama’el before, though.

True... however in each of those cases, I barely slept either, and only then out of exhaustion because I’d spent my time delivering babies or dealing with injuries related to the harvest. He rose from his seat as Barric finished his first joust, needing to check over his brother for injuries and settle the unease he could see flickering of Jarret’s face. Sama’el and I aren’t so attached that we need to do everything together at all times, but we do prefer to end the day wrapped in each other’s arms. And you can’t say, dear Uncle, that you wouldn’t struggle to sleep without Avan at your side.

Willem sighed, and gave a sharp nod of his head before waving him off.

Ronan made his way swiftly through the crowd gathered to watch the jousting spectacle, a mix of high-born nobles, merchants, and those who could steal a few hours away from their farms to celebrate the marriage of their king and the birth of the new prince. Accepted the congratulations on the birth of his new cousin from those who recognised him while ignoring their puzzled expressions at not seeing Sama’el at his side. He already felt the loss of his twin’s presence keenly and he didn’t need the nosiness of gossiping nobles to make the ache in his chest worse.

He was relieved to step free of the bustling throng of drunken revellers and into the area set aside for the knights participating in the jousting tournament. Quiet didn’t exist here either, but it was far more familiar to Ronan than what he’d just left. Instead of drunken cheers, the air was filled with knights exchanging light-hearted banter or shouting orders at their pages and squires. An urgency underpinned everything as they progressed through the tournament with those who won their jousts requiring new lances to replace those that had been broken.

For as long as Ronan could remember, these events had been heavily dominated by members of the Moutram Family with his uncles, cousins and older brothers all participating when time and age allowed. But this time only Barric competed.

Ronan pushed aside the flap of the tent and stepped inside. How long until your next joust? he asked while watching their younger brother Lylyn assist Barric with his armour.

Not till later this afternoon.

Good. That means I have time to grab a poultice and put it on your chest.

He didn’t hit me that hard, Barric scoffed, shoving away Lylyn’s hands as their younger brother tried to remove his doublet.

No, of course he didn’t, Ronan replied with a roll of his eyes and striding forward. He grabbed a hold of the doublet and yanked it over Barric’s head, exposing the bruise already blooming across his brother’s chest. And you’ll be damn lucky if the blow didn’t break ribs.

It’s not that bad.

Ronan snorted. You should be grateful Papa isn’t here... or Jarret for that matter, he muttered, batting Barric’s hands out of the way as he inspected the extent of the injury. No broken ribs, but I’ll head across to the apothecarists tent and grab some poultice to put on it... and you will leave it on until right before your next joust.

Yes, little brother, Barric said with a resigned sigh.

Good, because Lylyn will tell me if you don’t.

Ronan stepped back out of the tent and paused to get his bearings. Barric’s injury might not have been life threatening, but Ronan didn’t want to waste time by getting lost amongst the other knight’s tents while trying to find where the king’s physician had set up his temporary apothecary. Not that the man would be impressed to see Ronan, especially when he demanded the man shift aside while Ronan prepared the poultice for himself instead of letting the king’s physician prepare it. But the art of medical science was an ever-evolving beast as new discoveries were made regarding the complexities of the human body—so many secrets they were yet to uncover—and the medical properties of the world around them and the king’s physician refuted many of them.

Though the man’s intense dislike of Ronan might have spawned because the Prince Regent had requested his presence, and not that of the king’s physician at the birth of the new prince, rather than a disagreement on which herbs should be used for what. The request hadn’t surprised Ronan, he’d been on hand to assist with the birth of his cousin Alden five years ago. An experience that had only cemented his decision to follow the path of a physician instead of becoming a knight like the rest of his brothers. The physician wasn’t going to like it when Ronan returned to the castle in a few months to deliver Jarret’s babies, but the man would be harder pressed to argue his suitability for the task when he’d not delivered a single set of twins, whereas Ronan had delivered several with great success.

What are you doing here? Rhysand hissed, jabbing in Ronan’s direction with the pestle he’d been using. I don’t require your help.

Good, I wasn’t offering it, he replied, ignoring Rhysand completely as he stepped around the table at the front of the tent which Rhysand dispensed his concoctions, many of which failed to live up to the hype the elder physician gave them.

Get out of my tent, or I’ll get the King’s Guard to remove you.

Ronan shook his head and chuckled knowing that the guard were more likely