My Lady

By Diane David

Meet Meghan, a spirited young woman whose life takes an unexpected twist when she learns the truth about her past. Raised by a loving blacksmith and his wife, Meghan has always felt content with her humble upbringing. But when she's suddenly torn away from the only family she's ever known, a chance encounter

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diane David
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869221476

Book preview

MY LADY

Diane David

Copyright © 2023

All Rights Reserved

Table Of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgment

About the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my children and my grandchildren to inspire them to never give up on their dreams no matter how long it takes, to my husband for his never-ending support, and to my mom and dad. Though my dad has passed, I know he is up there somewhere smiling down and feeling proud.

Acknowledgment

First, I want to acknowledge the many blessings God has bestowed upon me and the sacrifice His son Jesus made for me.

Next, I need to give a special shout out to Kathy, Kelly, and Jolene, my former coworkers. They were the first ones to read my book, my first proofreaders, and my first cheerleaders. Thanks for all the encouragement, girls. I finally did it!

About the Author

Diane works as a paralegal for an Intellectual Property law firm in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. When she’s not working or writing, she’s busy being a wife, a mother, and a grandmother to her two little granddaughters. A lover of romance, she’s been inspired by so many great authors, and her dream is to hopefully bring as much joy to her readers as she’s received from her favorite authors over the years.

Prologue

England, 1175

Moira’s dirty frock helped her blend into the darkness of the forest. When she stepped from the shadows of the trees, a cackling sound escaped her lips as she spied her accomplice approaching. In the man’s thin arms was a small russet sack—the bundle she’d been anxiously awaiting. She had been waiting most of the day, long enough for her to begin questioning the man’s competency. She knew the choice of people she could trust was limited, and there was no one else she could have charged with the task.

Her wait was now forgotten, and she smiled as it appeared the man had been successful. Her slight frame practically quaked with excitement as she watched him forge the shallow stream below her. Soon, he was climbing the steep bank to where she was waiting, struggling to keep hold of his bundle as he made his way up the hill.

When at last he reached her, his breathing was labored and his forehead was moist with sweat. She would give him no time to recover as she eagerly lunged for the sack.

Quick! Give him to me. Give him to me! she demanded. Her stringy brown hair swung wildly as the man stepped back and her hands came up empty.

The younger man was quicker and took a step backward as he tightened his grip on the sack.

She glared at him in his dirty clothing as she pushed the hair from her eyes, but he stayed put, standing just out of her reach. Give... him... to... me. Her voice was low, but the man just shook his head.

First the gold, woman. Then you can have ‘im. And it better be worth it ‘cause I had to kill the nurse to get to the babes, and I don’t much care for killin’ women.

Ah, the gold... of course, she said. Her expression softened as she reached into her woolen cloak to retrieve the small purse of coins she’d stolen only yesterday. Then, she threw it at him. Here, take it! ‘Tis a small price to pay, really, to gain revenge upon Sherborne.

Easy, wench! the man said as his free hand missed the bag, and it fell behind him, spilling its contents upon the ground.

Moira didn’t care. All that mattered was that he finally handed her the sack that contained Thomas of Sherborne’s son. At last was all she could think while tightly clinging to the woolen bundle in her grasp.

Wails of anguish came from inside the sack, but the babe’s mournful cries only added to her delight. She was so pleased, in fact, that it was only with mild curiosity that she bothered to ask about the other babe.

What did you do with the girl?

I left ‘er. You said you only wanted the boy. Besides, I barely got out with the one. Sherborne’s soldiers were everywhere, what with all the extra visitors to the castle for Michaelmas. They were keeping an eye out any for trouble.

He had turned and knelt to pick up the coins as Moira returned her attention to the sack. "Indeed, ‘tis Sherborne’s son I need for my revenge. ‘Tis he who must forfeit his life in payment for my son’s death."

The man let out a grunt beside her, but his gaze never lifted as his bony fingers raked the grass, feeling for any lost coins. You said your son died from the fever. How is that Sherborne’s fault?

Moira stiffened, her gray eyes narrowing sharply on the man’s thin back. How dare this weasely little man defend Sherborne to her, she thought. He knew nothing of the pain she had felt at losing her only child. Peter meant everything to her, and she vowed that his death would not go unpunished.

My son was serving in Sherborne’s army when he grew ill, she said, angry to be explaining herself. If it weren’t for his service, he wouldn’t have been in the Southlands when the sickness spread through.

Her gnarled fingers began tearing at the flaxen cord that bound the top of the sack. Nay, Sherborne’s to blame, she continued, gritting her words through clenched teeth. And tonight, his son shall pay!

She untied the knot and lifted her prize from inside, and just as quickly, the sack was forgotten as she let it fall to the ground. It was soon followed by the baby’s own swaddling cloth. The infant, now free, grew quiet and gratefully stared at Moira with his wide green eyes.

He wore only a soft linen gown so loose that it had already fallen from his shoulders and rested precariously at his waist. Moira held him at arm’s length, surveying her captive, her nose wrinkling as if he reeked of an ungodly odor.

Perhaps, if he had been anyone else’s child, she may have found him beautiful. However, she had nothing but contempt for the son of her sworn enemy.

He was barely six months old, and somehow, she took perverse pleasure in knowing that he would not live to see a year. My son died scared, alone, and far from home, just as you are going to do now.

As she spoke, her grip grew so tight on the baby’s torso that her knuckles began turning white, and her words drew a second grunt from the man beside her.

Lord Sherborne’s soldiers swear allegiance to him. The man closed the purse once he was satisfied he’d found all the coins. They pledge their lives and risk them willingly.

Silence! Moira hissed, shaking the child in her anger. No one was going to stop her from fulfilling her plan. No one! She had waited far too long and risked everything for this chance. God himself would not stop her now.

Then, the babe began kicking wildly as she shook him, causing his linen gown to slide the rest of the way from his body. And that was when she saw it—that was when she saw the man’s mistake.

Fool! she screamed, her face turning crimson as she spun around to face him. You fool! You’ve brought me the girl! She held the now-naked child outward so that he could see his mistake for himself.

The man came to his feet and turned and there was clearly confusion on his face as he stammered, But-but this babe was bigger. I mean, I thought... What—

His eyes suddenly widened, and his mouth dropped as he stared with shock at the silver dagger handle protruding from his chest. A dark red stain began to soak his tunic, and his lips moved to speak, but no further words escaped him. There was only an eerie gurgling sound as the life faded from his dark eyes, and he fell with a muffled thump upon the ground.

What a stupid fool, Moira thought to herself as she removed her dagger. She used the man’s own tunic to wipe the blood from the blade. Then, she reclaimed her coins before pushing his body over the embankment, watching as it slowly slide down the hillside.

It landed with a splash in the shallow stream below, and the icy-cold water returned immediately to surge around it. Moira’s mind whirled like that water—a tempestuous mixture of hatred and anger.

Oh, how could this have happened to her, she thought. How could all of her plans have been ruined by one stupid man’s mistake?She had waited so long!

Caught in her blinding haze of fury, she stood that way for some time until a loud, shrill sound finally penetrated the wall of her anger.

It was the infant’s cry.

She had had to drop her in order to use her dagger. Now, she reminded Moira of her existence with a cry, and Moira quickly returned to the baby girl. She knelt above her, smiling as the infant immediately began to grow quiet.

She smirked, for the babe was really too trusting, but then she was too young to realize that Moira’s smile was anything but friendly.

She grabbed the infant’s gown and swaddling cloth. Moira gave her one last look before she began winding them about her head. She was careful to completely cover her nose and mouth, wrapping them tightly before she placed the kicking child back into its sack. Then, she tied the bindings again, holding the squirming bundle for several minutes as she waited for the child to cease her struggling.

Finally, when the sack grew still, she tossed it into the weeds. Then without an ounce of care, she coldly turned her back on it.

Moira began the long walk back to Sherborne Castle and made a vow to herself—this doesn’t end here. Tonight, the girl had died, but somehow, someday, she would get another chance, and she would kill the Sherborne son as well.

* * * * *

You are weary, Daryl, John said to his wife as her shoulders sagged and she suppressed another yawn. He had wanted to reach the village, but he knew she would never make it because she was just too tired. They would have to make camp for the night. We will stop here, he said as he tugged on the reins, and their old wooden cart slowly creaked to a halt.

John, a large beefy man with dark copper hair, gently helped his wife down from her seat. She smiled sleepily up at him, her brown eyes full of love as she began unloading what little food they had from their cart.

He met her gaze and cringed, for there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and he could see them clearly even though ‘twas already well into twilight. I will get the food and start a fire, he told her as he took the loaf of brown bread from her hands. Then, he held the bread in one hand as he cupped her soft cheek with the other. Why did you not tell me to stop?

Because I am fine, she answered, patting his large, callused hand. And you worry overly much. She smiled and turned for the woods to walk sleepily into them to relieve herself. Meanwhile, John’s guilt only grew when he noticed the slowness of her steps.

He swore softly and chided himself, reminding himself to be mindful of the fact that he was traveling with a woman. He promised himself to stop sooner tomorrow.

‘Twas dark by the time Daryl returned and John had already lit a fire. He was just about to fetch some water when he saw his wife coming from the trees. She was holding something in her arms.

It appeared to him little more than a brown woolen sack until he saw the look of surprise that she wore upon her face. ‘Twas that look which filled him with alarm.

What is it? he asked, then held his breath as she came closer.

She stopped just short of him, her mouth open as her gaze moved from the sack to her husband. ’Tis a miracle, John, she whispered as she just shook her head. An answer to our prayers...

She held the sack out so that he could see for himself. Looking through the opening, he was surprised to see two large, round eyes staring back at him. Then the babe moved, emitting a soft cry, and ‘twas John’s turn to stand agape as he stared with wide eyes at his wife’s pretty round face.

Where? How?

Over there, at the edge of the trees. Someone has abandoned it. Then, she sat down to remove the baby from the sack, gently lifting her out before the fabric fell to the ground. Oh, who could do such a thing? she wondered, her voice full of anguish.

By the light of the fire, John could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes. He moved closer, putting a hand on her shoulder as he stared at the baby Daryl held in her arms. ‘Twas naked and crying weakly.

’Tis a girl, Daryl said, and sighed as she cradled the babe even closer to her chest. Then she pointed to the baby’s gown and swaddling cloth, which were also lying on the ground. "She had those wrapped about her neck. I think they were around her face, but somehow, she managed to pull free. Oh, John, who could do such a thing?"

I do not know, love. He squeezed her shoulder. Perhaps she was a bastard child, or perhaps they wanted a son. John shook his head as tears began slowly sliding down her cheeks.

They had been married for nearly four years now, but they were yet to be blessed with a child even though he had heard his wife pray nearly every night for God to send them one. Now, here was one, so beautiful and so seemingly perfect, and yet still so unwanted.

‘Twas so unfair...

Daryl sniffed and dried her tears on the rough woolen fabric of her sleeve before she lifted her gaze to stare up at her husband. John?

He met her hopeful look with a warm, broad smile, for already he knew what she was going to ask. We will have to travel through the night in search of a village and some milk for the babe. Are you sure you are up to it?

Oh, aye, she answered and practically jumped to her feet before she kissed him soundly on the cheek. I would gladly walk all night if need be. Thank you, John.

He helped her back into their cart and turned to put out the fire. After kicking some dirt over top of the flames, he paused a moment before returning to the wagon. Alone in the darkness, his face lifted upwards, and there were tears in his eyes as he looked to the heavens. Nay, thank you...

Chapter One

England, 1193

Meghan jumped as the sound of her name reverberated through the large kitchen area at Ogden Castle. It startled her so much, in fact, that she dropped the trenchers she’d been carrying to one of the long wooden tables which lined the room. The flatbreads went flying, landing with a muffled thump upon the ground, and hurriedly, she knelt to pick them up.

Meghan! Her name was shouted again. Where are you girl?

This time, though, Meghan breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized the voice of her friend. I am here, Ada!

The older woman turned, and her face brightened when she spied Meghan at the foot of the table. Then, bounding toward her, she had to sidestep several serfs in order to maneuver her generous figure through the many tables and storage barrels that filled the room.

By the time she reached her, she was winded, her large breasts heaving from the effort. I’ve got news for you, girl! she said, placing a hand on her chest to steady her breathing. It took a moment for the radical rise and fall of her chest to subside.

Meghan made a clacking sound with her tongue and chided, Mercy, Ada, but you gave me a fright. She put the trenchers back on the table and wiped away any specks of dirt they may have picked up with the back of her hand. Then, sent her friend a reproachful glare. ’Tis lucky for you they did not break, for the Lord has guests for dinner tonight.

Nay, ‘tis the reason I’ve come. The gentlemen who spent last night will not be taking dinner at Ogden but are moving on. Why, even now, they are making their preparations to leave.

Meghan smiled and lifted a delicate hand to pat the rough woolen fabric of Ada’s sleeve. Then we shall just prepare fewer trenchers, is all. Really, Ada, there is no need for such alarm.

She blinked as Ada reached for her hand and clutched it. Nay! ‘Tis not why I’ve come! Her chestnut eyes beseeched her to understand. You did not see the men last night, but I overheard them talking this morn’. I heard them mention that they were from Lyonswood—that one of them is Lord Aurick himself. They are leaving for Lyonswood today!

Meghan stared at her friend for a moment to comprehend what she was saying, but when at last she did, her emerald eyes grew round with excitement. Lyonswood! Why Lyonswood’s lands are just south of Winward’s. They do, in fact, border Winward lands... Ada! She squeezed Ada’s fingers. I may be able to get home!

Aye! Ada threw her hands up as her heavy bosom began shaking with laughter. "Now you understand! I thought you could travel with these men. You should be able to get home easily enough from Lyonswood. And mayhap they will be passing Winward lands, and if that is so, then you may have an escort the entire way."

Oh! Meghan squealed and flashed Ada such a beautiful grin that it caused several nearby male workers to pause in their tasks. As was often the case, their admiring glances went unnoticed by Meghan, though they didn’t escape her friend. She sent each of them a disapproving glare, silently telling them all to get back to work.

Meanwhile, Meghan just stood there innocently without realizing that it was her looks that were the cause of so much of her troubles. Her angelic face and long golden hair had no doubt been the temptation behind her abduction from home. After all, the merchant who had kidnapped her must have known she’d bring him no ransom. She was only a peasant girl, which means there was only one reason he could have risked taking her—he had wanted her for his own.

Luckily, she had been able to escape her captor and made her way to Ogden Castle. Once she was there, Meghan was immediately befriended by Ada. Feeling sorry for her, the older woman gave her something to eat and helped Meghan find work in Lord Ogden’s kitchen.

Now, after spending many months in Ogden Castle, it appeared as though she might finally be going home.

Ada sniffed then and blinked her eyes several times as they began to mist. You must be getting ready if you are going to go, she said while giving her eyes a rough swipe. She grabbed a russet sack and began filling it with food.

Inside, Ada placed a small loaf of brown bread, a large hunk of cheese, and several pieces of fruit. Then she tied the end of the sack and handed it to Meghan. Here, you will need some food for your journey. Lord Ogden will never miss these.

Meghan gasped. "Lord Ogden! My God, I did forget about him. What if he does not wish me to go? We have been