Heartsong: Song, #1

By Allison Knight

Desperate and proud, Rhianna ap Brynn Ffrydd, a Welsh princess, is captured by a hated Englishman. She hides her royal blood for the knowledge would spell certain disaster. After she is accused of being a witch, she struggles against the protective and sensual spell of her captor, desperately seeking a new life for herself.

Baron Garrett deShay, is an agent of Edward I of England. Emotionally scarred but intent on gaining the respect of his monarch by surrendering a member of Welsh aristocracy, Garrett fights an overwhelming attraction and the need to protect this woman, despite the charge of witch that hangs over her head. 

Can the two lovers conquer the cruelties awaiting them and their own natural animosity, to accept a forever kind of love with their own heart song?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Feb 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781957228273

Book preview

A person and person kissing Description automatically generated with medium confidence

Heartsong

The Song Series, Book 1

ALLISON KNIGHT

CHAMPAGNE BOOK GROUP

Heartsong

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Published by Champagne Book Group

2373 NE Evergreen Avenue, Albany OR 97321 U.S.A.

~~~

Second Edition 2022

ISBN: 978-1-77155-999-7

Copyright © 202 Martha Krieger All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Robyn Hart

Champagne Book Group supports copyright which encourages creativity and diverse voices, creates a rich culture, and promotes free speech. Thank you by complying by not scanning, uploading, and distributing this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher. Your purchase of an authorized electronic edition supports the author’s rights and hard work and allows Champagne Book Group to continue to bring readers fiction at its finest.

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Other Books by Allison Knight

Song Series

Lovesong, 4

Windsong, 3

Battlesong, 2

Heartsong, 1

A Matter for Passion

A Treasure for Sara

Betrayed Bride

Heal My Hurting Heart

Lynbrook’s Lady

Roses for My Lady

For Carol.

Author’s Note:

As with some historical romances, I’ve taken a bit of liberty with some of the historical facts. Edward II of England was born in April of 1284, not 1283. And although his father almost had Wales under his thumb at one point, at the approximate beginning of Garrett’s and Rhianna’s tale, some of his own barons and some of the Welsh barons had revolted against him. Late that next spring, Edward claimed all of Wales.

Garrett’s castle is modeled after the castle in Shrewsbury, and I’ve placed Brynn Ffrydd three days march directly to the west.

As far as I know Edward, ‘Longshanks,’ never sent one of his barons to Wales for hostages. Again, a bit of literary license.

Allison Knight

When the full moon shimmers o’er the endless English moors and the witching hour draws near, soft winds sing of a rare kind of love, a precious kind of love, a forever kind of love. Those same breezes sigh and tell of a fair princess of royal Welsh blood who stood alone before her enemy, an enemy who named her witch.

The winds do moan about a handsome lord who first betrayed her, then sought her across a thousand ancient fields, his jaded heart full of remorse, his soul racked with pain.

As the luster of moonglow lightens the landscape, the winds gentle and whisper about how she took his aching heart and with her own sweet song, her song of love, her Heartsong, she filled him with peace and joy.

Together, they loved through all eternity.

Chapter One

The year of Our Lord 1282

Rhianna ap Brynn Ffrydd swallowed her apprehension. She leaned against the cold stone wall of their cave and stared as the English warriors gathered below in the valley. How she hated them.

This place offered little protection for her and her youngest brother, Arthur. Somehow, she had to get them away from here and back to their keep. There were few alternatives.

I want them gone from here, she muttered.

But they will not go, Arthur mumbled. They wait for the rest of their army.

She ignored him and slid to the floor of their hiding place. The English devils had torn her world asunder for a second time. On this day, the body of her sire lay on the mountain behind their keep, his life’s blood soaking into his beloved land, cut down by one of English knights below their cave. No one guarded her home, and her older brothers waited in vain for an army who had somehow escaped their careful trap.

Garrett deShay and Edward of England are responsible for this day, she whispered, her tone husky.

Was it only a fortnight ago she’d heard that name for the first time? Aye! The man had sent his messenger and with a harsh, ringing voice, he’d read from a coil of parchment.

‘Garrett de Shay, the Lord of Knockin, as agent of Edward, King of England, demands surrender, surrender of Castle Bryn Ffrydd and all within and without.’

The Englishman had demanded nothing less than their souls.

She had to find a way to escape, get back to the keep and her charge as well as save the lad beside her. They could not be taken captive—for although Arthur was eight summers younger than she, he was still the son of a prince of Wales. Who knew what de Shay would do to him? And she had her own responsibilities.

We must wait until darkness descends, slip from this cave and climb over the top of this mountain.

Arthur nodded. Aye, escape. His pale face reflected his fear.

Aye, she said, her tone enthusiastic to wipe some of the terror from his young face. He looked even younger than his fourteen summers.

Pounding hoofs announced the arrival of more horses. Chills shook her. Could Arthur have the right of it? Had more English arrived? She tried to swallow past the lump of panic in her throat. She had to see who had come to this valley, but when she stood, her brother grabbed her arm staying her.

Wait, he mouthed.

For a time all was quiet then a shout from below echoed through the cave.

You in the cave, show yourself!

The deep voice pierced Rhianna’s heart. I’ll not show myself to an English cur. Her words tumbled from her without a thought. Leave now, or you will forfeit your lives in a pile of Welsh stones!

She gazed at Arthur her heart sinking. He shook his head, his face whiter than ever. She groaned with frustration. Would she never learn to keep her thoughts to herself? She should not have shouted at the enemy. Now they knew the cave held at least one Welshman.

A woman? There is a woman in the cave, a soldier cried.

We’re guarding a woman? another asked.

~ * ~

Garrett dismounted, fighting to contain his rage. He glared at the men surrounding him.

I don’t want some woman. He flung the words at his half-brother, Colvin. Where are the sons of Alwyn ap Brynn Ffrydd? You sent word the enemy was found.

He glared back.

Nay, my lord. A soldier under Colvin’s command stepped forward drawing his attention. We did not know what we had cornered.

Why did you not rush the cave? Garrett asked. All these soldiers against one woman? Or are the brothers I seek in that cave as well?

There was no answer, nor did he expect one. Colvin was a coward. If he had not been, Garrett knew his half-brother would have found a way to kill him and take Knockin long ago. Colvin coveted everything Garrett possessed. It had always been so.

However, this was not the time for reflection. He released the ties of his chest guard.

Here. He turned to one of his men. Help me with this. I will see what is in that cave.

After he repositioned his sword, he placed a small dagger in his belt then started for the steep hill that led to the cave. Skirting rocks to stay in the shadows, he climbed toward the entrance.

Midway, he paused and yelled, Woman, admit your plight. You are naught but a frightened wench. Come, I bid you show yourself. I will not harm you.

Nay! I tell you, she returned. Begone, before I do you damage. I will place a curse upon your head. Leave! I want no putrid English bones to sully the soil of Wales.

The fear in her husky voice eased some of Garrett’s concern. Was it possible she was alone? Mayhap he heard a second voice groan at her words.

He crept closer. Soon enough he would know if the cave held more than the woman.

Without making a sound, he grasped his sword, stealing toward the edge of the entrance. A quick glimpse revealed two figures pressed against the cave wall. One head of dark curls gleamed against the gray stone while lighter waves rested next to the first.

Another step in the shadows brought him closer. He studied the rear of the cave. Two horses shifted restlessly in one corner. He held back a chuckle. One looked much like an English battle horse, his brother’s horse. He wondered how on Earth they managed to steal his brother’s destrier.

Garrett repressed a sigh of disgust. No other men hid here. The brothers he sought were not in this cave.

The light-haired youth leaned toward the other. He stared at their profiles and suddenly wanted to shout with victory. Colvin’s man, deVerney, had slain the man Edward wanted as hostage, but it appeared that in this cave was one of the sons. Garrett just might have a hostage after all.

However, there was still the woman. Who was she? Had this youth been assigned to protect her? Could she be wife to one of the older sons? A leman? As far as he knew, Alwyn had no daughters.

He could not release her. She would sound an alarm making it impossible to get the youth to Edward. Garrett would have to take both to Knockin.

Before he could enter the cave, the woman spotted him. She stumbled to her feet, turning to face him. The afternoon sun shone through the entrance of the cave, illuminating her face. He stared; he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, breathtaking. For an instant desire darted through him.

While he stood stunned with surprise at his reaction to her, she took a step toward the rear of the cave. The boy, too, was on his feet, moving toward the horses.

Nay, Garrett said, coming to his senses. Neither of them must escape.

The woman was closer to him. He grabbed for her. His hand closed about her arm, staying her.

She screamed. He drew her toward him. She struggled, squirming away from him.

At the same moment, the boy charged with a dagger in his hand. He lunged. The woman twisted.

The dagger missed Garrett and sank into the woman’s flesh. Ancient memories, ugly, intense, devastating, flooded him. The woman’s painful cry pierced his memories. The boy’s scream brought him to attention.

You were protecting me. The weak words tumbled from the woman’s lips. Garrett eased her to the cave floor. ‘Twas not your fau… she whispered, then sank into unconsciousness.

Once more, her beauty struck him. He turned from the woman and gazed at the boy, ready to question him. The boy’s eyes dulled. Garrett had seen this happen to the strongest of warriors, when the mind could no longer withstand the horror of the moment.

Sweet Jesu, he muttered. You did not kill her. She lives. He glared at the youth’s chalky face.

He turned to the woman, easing the dagger from the soft flesh. Her wound was not too deep and high on her shoulder. It might have nicked a bone, but she’d recover. He wiped her blood from the dagger and stuck it in his belt.

Garrett reached up, seized the lad and yanked him forward.

Look you to her wound, he ordered then walked to the cave opening.

ʼTis no mighty army we have here, he shouted to the waiting soldiers. Only one terrified woman and perhaps one of Alwyn’s sons. Sir Tomlaine, Sir D’Arcy, bring the horses. He glanced toward the woman and the boy, then ordered, We’ll need water and clean cloth.

He frowned. The woman on the cave floor would hamper their travel and of certain, he wanted none of the soldiers to see to her care. He refused to ask himself why.

~ * ~

On the hillside David deVerney threw his shield to the ground and crouched beside Colvin. Your brother is furious with me. I should begone from his sight and soon.

Colvin sneered at his man. deVerney was a coward.

I’ve no appetite for this either. Colvin grimaced. He tossed his hair from his eyes. A woman! Mayhap I’ll stop at Knockin and see this son and the woman before I travel to mine own keep.

He jumped to his feet before he choked on his bitterness. This had to be the woman he had met on the road, the one who cast a spell on him, then had taken his horse. Or had this brother Garrett mentioned aided in her attack? Colvin would wait until he got to Knockin for answers.

He stomped down the hill.

Mount up! he snapped at his men. He shoved his helmet over his head and grabbed his mount.

Tell my brother I go back to England. We are no longer needed here. I will await him at Knockin. He paused beside a stunned sentry before he turned to deVerney. I’ve had enough of his wars. He can fight the next one by himself.

Colvin glared at deVerney, knowing his man wanted to ask where he’d been during the battle. ʼTwas not something Colvin intended to discuss—ever.

He galloped off, away from Garrett, away from deVerney and his own men, Colvin’s thoughts savage. What a worthless waste of time this had been.

Edward wanted the border raids stopped and had ordered a hostage taken. But those orders were not enough for Garrett. Nay, his brother had to issue his own orders, as if he was the Almighty himself.

No plundering.

No castle to sack.

No trinkets to gather, no gold to collect, no way to pay off favors. No castle wenches to quench the battle lust of his men.

At least Garrett might have a hostage, so deVerney would not pay with his life.

Colvin slowed his horse and waited for his man. Are you certain the land has gone unclaimed? My brother could not be that stupid.

When deVerney nodded, Colvin cursed. He turned away and muttered, Garrett will pay for this folly. Someday, he’ll pay. He faced deVerney. Get most of the men on to Sanford. I’ll take a guard and stop at Knockin.

He laughed at deVerney’s sigh of relief. Coward!

Colvin rode on. At least his brother would not go back with the hostage his king had wanted. Mayhap he only had a son. Would the possibility of a son be enough to satisfy the king? Colvin doubted it.

Then, he grinned.

Edward didn’t take well to disappointment, and he would be thwarted with only a son. Colvin struck his horse with the heavy leather reins and dug in his spurs.

Somehow he would make Garrett pay for all the slights he’d had to endure. And someday Colvin would have Knockin.

~ * ~

Garrett moved away from the entrance and gazed at the boy. The lad had not moved since Garrett shoved him to her side. Now, the shoulder of her bliaut grew dark with blood.

Garrett knelt beside her. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Her pale face touched his memories, but he brushed them aside. That wound needed attention and now.

We must stop this bleeding, he said. We need clean cloths.

The boy stared ahead, rocking like an infant.

Garrett glared at him. He was no help at all. Lydon! Joseph! His voice bounced against the stone walls.

That sound dragged a spark of sanity into the boy’s eyes. He focused on Garrett as he tried to ease the bliaut away from the woman’s shoulder.

Nay, the youth wailed. Then, he charged.

For a second Garrett faltered, taken unawares. He righted himself and grabbed the boy, wrapping his arms around him. I try only to stop the bleeding, he spoke softly. Calm yourself.

The stick-thin youth’s eyes were wide.

If she gains her senses, Garrett whispered. Do you want to frighten her more?

Nay, you will not touch her. Get your hands off her. She is all I have.

She is all I have?

Could she be his wife? Nay, the boy was too young. He could not have earned his spurs. But Garrett had no more time to speculate.

Lydon, then Joseph, stumbled through the cave opening. Garrett shoved the boy at Joseph.

Hold the lad for he keeps me from tending the wound. He turned to Lydon.

I’ll need something to clean and bind the wound.

Lydon stepped from the cave then returned with a water skin and a roll of cloth. Garrett knelt beside the woman, lifting her from the floor. He cleaned the injury, then wrapped a piece of fabric tightly around her shoulder. When he finished, he hoisted her into his arms and handed her to Lydon.

Garrett turned to the boy. You did not kill her. She will live. What happened here was an accident.

The boy stabbed her? Lydon asked, his face furrowed in confusion.

Garrett nodded and walked through the cave entrance pausing to tell Lydon, I’ll carry her once I’m mounted. Then, he faced Joseph. The boy rides with you. Before you put him on your horse, bind his hands.

The boy yelled in protest, but Garrett ignored him. He strode down the hill. When he reached his horse, he mounted and waited for Lydon to hand the unconscious woman to him. Garrett wanted to leave this place and the memories trying to surface.

In minutes they cantered their horses northeast toward his retreating soldiers. He held the woman against him and gazed into her face. She stirred. He eased his grip and wondered what might happen if she awoke at that moment.

As he studied her face, and for a second time, a sharp coil of need struck. He grew hot then cold. His heart gathered speed, hammering against his chest.

Nay, he murmured. She is Welsh.

He pulled the horse to a stop and eased the bliaut away from the dressing. The bleeding must have slowed for the bandage was dry. He sighed with relief and replaced her garment. Then he brushed the dark curls away from her face.

Aye, she was a beauty. Her clear complexion, even with her pallor, looked kissed by the sun. Her face was oval, and he tried to remember if he had seen the color of her eyes, as he considered the high dark arch of her brows.

She had full, lush lips—lips made for kissing. What would she look like when she smiled? Sweet Jesu, what was wrong with him?

She was Welsh.

She was his enemy! And he hated the Welsh, even more than Colvin hated him.

Garrett kicked his horse into motion. She murmured in pain and turned her head away from him. He gazed at her profile and grinned at what he saw. Her small nose had an impish turn to it. Stubborn? Possibly. Some women were. He drew her closer, and she turned her face to him.

The clean fragrance of wild flowers floated toward him, teasing him as he fought another wave of desire. He trampled on the sensation and forced himself to consider her dress. The bliaut and the tunic beneath were of excellent quality. She wore no jewelry, but her hands were calloused, like those of a servant.

Confusion clawed through him. Who was she? Why was she hiding in that cave with naught but the young lad to offer protection? And was it one of Alwyn’s sons who protected her?

Lydon, he said to the man at his side, what make you of this wench? She has an air about her, but I cannot believe any nobleman, Welsh or no, would allow his daughter the freedom to roam the countryside.

Mayhap she is the daughter of a local merchant. Joseph’s deep voice rumbled from behind them as well as a groan from his captive.

What merchant do you know who would allow this beauty to ride the land without escort? Alwyn’s sons would have had her on her back in mere minutes. The boy could offer no defense against grown men even if he is their brother.

My lord, Lydon remarked, could she be a lady-in-waiting to one of the women in the hall? You, yourself said this Alwyn was a prosperous man. I know you said there was no wife but think you several ladies lived in his keep?

Garrett frowned at the woman. She cannot be of noble birth, he muttered. Her clothing is of quality, but not that of a lady. Her hands are those of a working lass. Mayhap she is a seamstress or a castle servant

Still, my lord. Lydon’s soft words intruded. She is Welsh.

Sweet Jesu, where was his mind? Lydon was right. Servant or no, she was Welsh. Garrett hated all Welshmen. And he’d made certain all of his people felt the same.

Still, he stared at her. A servant, a freewoman? It made no sense.

Why didn’t she stay within the keep? Garrett murmured. She hid in that cave with naught but the lad for protection. Something about this rings false. There were two horses in that cave and servants don’t ride. What make you of the palfrey, my friend? It is a beast of quality.

Mayhap it belongs to the boy? Joseph offered from behind. That other horse belonged to your half-brother.

The palfrey was outfitted for a woman. So, who is she?

Garrett glared at the female and felt another flash of need. Of a sudden, he had an idea. Why, he wondered, hadn’t he thought of it before? This woman had served in the castle, and her purpose was plain as the nose on his face.

Several of Alwyn’s sons were old enough to have a kept woman, a leman. That would surely explain the fine pony she rode, the quality of her clothing, the cleanness of her body. She served to satisfy the physical needs of one of the sons, mayhap even the father.

He shifted his burden. He ought to take her to Knockin and let her serve him in the same way. His lips twitched with a smile. A fine revenge! However, his plans must be made known to them and that meant they had to find those other sons. Aye, and when he found one of those sons, he would let him know of his plans for one of their playthings. He grunted with satisfaction, his questions answered, his confusion gone.

My Lord, Lydon’s voice interrupted Garrett’s musings. The soldiers stumble in their fatigue. If you plan to meet the enemy again, your men need rest.

Garrett smarted with frustration. There had been no need for a battle on the ridge. He had Alwyn in his sights. It would have been a simple matter…

But deVerney had ended Garrett’s plan. Now he had to prepare for another battle. It was not to his liking.

Give the order, then. That forest to our right. Aye! Over there. That will serve our needs. Tell the men I want no smoking fires and have them spread out through the trees. Send men to scout the area. I want those brothers. And ask the Scotsman to see to this woman. The wound must be cared for before we leave this place. He withheld his own groan of exhaustion.

Aye, my lord. And, what of the boy?

Tell Joseph to keep the lad with him and to watch him closely.

Garrett, I speak now as your friend. Mayhap, Joseph or I needs take these two back to their cave.

Nay, Garrett snarled, I want them with us.

Lydon countered, You don’t like the Welsh, and all here know it. Think about your men, Garrett. She threatened a curse upon you. There may be some who ʼtwould see that as witchcraft. Your people at Knockin, what of them? You know how superstitious they can be. It will go hard with these two if you insist on taking them home.

You know how I feel about Welsh savages, Garrett growled. However, I know who this one is and it serves my purpose to keep her with us.

Who is she? Lydon snorted. What purpose, other than the usual, could such a frail female have?

Garrett gazed down at the unconscious woman in his arms. Exactly the purpose you think. I am certain she is leman to one of those sons. She is from the keep. Even though her servants’ garments are soiled, they are well-made and of excellent quality. Then, there’s the horse she rode. What common village wench would wear such fine wool or ride such a splendid animal? Nay, she served one of the sons or mayhap the father.

He glanced