Gem of Gravane (The Northern Knights)

  Gem of Gravane

  By: Amber Dane

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarity to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Copyright © 2012 by Amber Dane

  Cover Art: LDF Designs

  Acknowledgements~ My wonderful sister and fan~Winda. Thank you for always believing.

  Can’t forget all the wonderful Authors and fans of the Textnovel community ~ Thank you.

  A special thank you goes out to Carin and her patience.

  Dedication: My girls~my world~Samantha, Lasha and Adrianna.

  Preface

  Aric Claydon, weary and in the foulest of moods, arrives in Northumberland from Normandy and a short battle to claim his Saxon bride-Lady Danielle- almost a year late. To worsen matters the girl is far from a ravishing beauty, nursing a small affliction and other irksome habits. Yet, compelled by a knight’s oath and loyalty to his king, Aric performs his duty. The lady is a means to an end to complete his gain and if he's lucky, bless him with an heir and nothing more. Even as he gives in to the fiery passion she wields, he vows she will never hold his heart. Soon enough Aric learns his new bride is not as timid as he first thought, but mysterious and with secrets of her own. When danger and treachery abound he will stop at nothing to protect her and finds himself willing to risk his own life to save the spirited lady who has bedded down in his soul.

  The Lady Danielle resigns herself to the fact that she must marry the Norman warrior with hope the formidable man will be the end to her silent suffering and peace will finally come to her people. Yet all hopes of salvation are dashed when the fierce and handsome warrior arrives in the night and takes one look at her. Danielle knows a man like Aric could never love or offer her comfort, but she is determined to make the most of it and prove to him that there is room for her love in his warrior’s heart.

  Chapter 1

  Northumberland ~1072~

  Aric Claydon rode at a slow cantor out of the dense forest and stopped atop the large hill which provided a better view of the spread before him. He steadied the great destrier as it moved restlessly beneath him as gusts of wind swept over them. The thick layers of fog coupled with the light spray of rain did little to lift the black mood that had ensnared him at dawn. Dusk was near and the chill of the darkening night had only just begun to seep beneath his soaked cloak and through to his weary bones. Strands of his black hair whipped wildly across his strong face as he stared down at the small village below.

  Aric straightened his broad shoulders back, his dark eyes adjusting as they moved past the tiny cluster of thatch-roofed huts to the large structure beyond.

  The manor looked like a wraith of stone rising out of the earth with the swirling gray-white mist blanketing its lower level and hiding activity, if any, that could be about. High walls ran the whole length of the structure with a swollen river behind it where heavier tendrils of the mist wafted atop raging waters.

  The manor appeared strong and solid. Yet he could see even from this distance that the southeast end was penetrable. His gaze returned to the vast courtyard and village. The serf huts flanked it in an uneven, almost split-like fashion.

  The chord of unease returned within his chest and his brows furrowed over the oddity. This was something he would soon correct. He would have his people work together as a whole. Aric shook off the sudden feeling and blamed it on the ache of the chill in his bones.

  The hard voice of his second-in-command, Balwain, cut through his brooding.

  “Milord. What think you we advance now before the men and horses sink in this thirsty mud beneath us?”

  Balwain edged his large horse closer to his own. Aric stared a moment longer at the manor before turning his dark gaze upon his loyal friend.

  “Aye, Balwain, move the men forward. I will follow anon.” His deep tone and gaze gave no quarter, ending Balwain’s move to protest against leaving him alone. The reluctance in his man was evident by the rigid set of his broad shoulders.

  Aric understood his longtime friend.

  Many still rebelled against William taking the throne and bloodthirsty rebels after Norman hide still sought refuge across the English countryside. They had just waylaid a few bold, yet unlucky souls on their way here.

  Balwain nodded nonetheless and led the group of over three hundred soldiers to the crest of the hill. Their descent toward the village cut through the mist, making each step more visible.

  Aric quieted his destrier as the beast moved slightly when the mass passed them.

  Patting the horse’s strong neck he whispered near its ear. “We shall follow soon enough, Thunder. Soon enough.”

  He just wanted a moment alone to take in the sight before him and to digest it. The quaint village and the manor. As though the longer he stared at it, he would somehow be able to burn the image into his memory.

  Before the next sunset all this would be his.

  This… a gift from his liege lord, William the Conqueror, the King of England. A most coveted and vast estate for his faithful years of service and for his help in the conquest of England.

  Large amounts of English land and estates had been taken and given to many of William’s knights and other nobles. Plenty with blood being shed, but a few also through marriage. Unwilling partners on both sides, Aric grunted over the notion. But for those whom did not fight, if an unmarried daughter lived, William saw fit to see a union made. Another part of adjusting after such a hardened and bloodthirsty battle in England’s taking. And Aric did not argue. He’d given William his allegiance and sworn his Oath of Fealty on a dark night of battle out on the field when he’d been all of fourteen summers.

  And had been by William’s side ever since until now.

  Land. His own fief.

  It was vast indeed. The larger of the total of three he’d been awarded. The other two, they had just visited en route to this one. Aric had left two of his other trusted men in charge as bailiffs to oversee until all was in order.

  Roger at Egway Manor and Hunter at Gent Hall. And now this.

  The Gravane demesne.

  He would now be overlord to all three. Baron of Egway, Gent and Gravane. Much more than he’d truly expected or imagined. Gravane lands could cover Egway and Gent twice times over.

  In less than a day he would join the select few Norman lords as one of the most powerful overlords of this Northern part of England, with William’s full favor.

  To his left, a large secluded section of Gravane lands stood alone. This benefice would be Balwain's.

  Aric had noted the emotions roll over Balwain’s hardened features when he’d bestowed the watch of the two holdings to Roger and Hunter.

  But, as he’d known, Balwain had quickly schooled his emotions before any other than himself had witnessed it and followed lead alongside him to Gravane without a word. Aric almost smiled. Balwain was like the brother he’d never had.

  Close as two men could get.

  He was well aware of the extent of Balwain’s loyalty to him. The man would lay down his own life for his and had done so on many occasions, without a second thought.

  Aric’s grin broke through in the blink of an eye and his chest swelled with pride at the sight of a lone rider galloping back toward him now.

  Balwain. Ever faithful and
bull-headed.

  Aric expelled a breath. Balwain had given him his moment and naught more.

  Aric tightened his thighs to urge Thunder closer to meet Balwain half-way. Both men clasped the other by the forearm.

  Balwain nodded, droplets of rain running down his face and into his short thick beard. “Milord.”

  Aric scowled, “Aye, Balwain. I am ready to meet my bride and make this final.”

  The dark sky opened up on those words and torrential rains fell, pelting their cloaked forms as they continued down the steep rise.

  Danielle Gravane sucked her thumb into her mouth for the third time of the evening then pulled it out to examine it. The spot of blood beaded just near her thumbnail where she’d pricked herself with the needle the moment her maid, Edie had rushed into the solar to announce that her betrothed had arrived. Danielle frowned.

  Her future husband had finally arrived.

  His arrival had been expected at the end of last year according to what had been stated in the message delivered directly to her from King William’s court. But he had not come. Months passed and still he had failed to arrive.

  It was nigh the end of summer and he comes now, Danielle shuddered with anger and anxiety.

  Now!

  She cursed softly in French under her breath. Borne to a Saxon lord and French noblewoman, her beautiful mother, against her father’s wishes, had taught her the language in those stolen and cherished moments that seemed so long ago.

  Memories of her mother’s flowery scent and soft skin caused Danielle to rub her fingers together. She swore softly when the soreness of her thumb brought her back to the present.

  She set down her dress, needle, and thread and moved away from the hearth to the window. The fresh rushes on the floor teased the bottom of her gown.

  Looking out the window, she could not resist and opened the wooden shutter to take in a deep breath of air. The smell of rain and sweet grass filled her nose. Calmness and longing beckoned her.

  The rain had caused the thick mist as usual to blanket the manor. A mist she welcomed.

  It hid many things as well as herself and she had come to view it as a form of protection. Protection for her and her people.

  Danielle gazed at the mist and let out a heavy sigh. She wished it rained all the time, but she knew her prayers for that were foolish.

  The moment the mist disappeared, she suffered in silence trying to keep the peace while being trapped under her cousin’s heavy boot. Still her people suffered even worse.

  ‘Twas bad enough the strife had divided the serfs. Those who resisted, he worked to the bone with barely any water or food in between. Were it not for her secret and Edie’s help in sneaking food and seeing to the ill to keep them from starving or dying, surely they would have lost many more to disease and death than they already had. She would do what she must to ensure her secret remained guarded carefully.

  She could only hope her prayers held out that her betrothed would not be dull-witted and be a man strong enough to protect them.

  ‘Twas well-known these Normans were an illiterate lot, possessed naught more than brute strength and delighted in slaughter and debauchery, to name a few. Danielle sighed. ‘Twould take a man of great character to change the way of the nasty spirits here inside the manor with her.

  She closed the shutter and turned away from the window just as one of the nasty spirits stormed unannounced as always, into her chamber now.

  Tall, arrogant and vain like no other, her cousin Thomas, younger by a year stopped in the middle of the room. Thomas was her dead aunt's son, born to her father's sister by an errant bastard knight promising a marriage that had never come. Her aunt had died giving birth to Thomas's sister, Rose.

  Coming of age, Danielle's father had granted the neighboring land near Gravane Manor to Thomas so he could care for himself and his sister. Now, the greedy monger had his beady eyes set on all of Gravane. Her father was partly the blame for that as he’d given Thomas too much control.

  Her father had wanted a son and Thomas was the closest he’d come. But now everything would go to the man she would soon marry. Thomas took out his anger and hatred on her every chance he got. Which was daily.

  He possessed a mean streak that knew no bounds.

  Despite the several hard slaps over the years from his hands to her face, Danielle still refused to cower as much as he would like or respect him. She had done too much of that when they were younger and her father had lived. But now, she played his game only so far. This small bit of defiance was her defense against the greedy bastard and he hated it. She’d found other ways to get around him and his ever watchful eyes. She spared him a glance.

  Evil shone in his eyes and he was not alone. One of his men stood beside him.

  Edie entered, making a wide berth to reach her side. Danielle reached behind her and held her maid’s hand in hers; her skirt hid the gesture from her cousin. Her maid’s loyalty and support were a gift and Danielle was glad she could share things with her.

  Thomas laughed as his eyes raked over them. Danielle cringed. He was up to something. He snapped his bejeweled fingers and a scrawny servant, a lad of no more than ten, rushed in with a tray that held a decanter and goblets.

  “Do you deign a quick toast before your knight in shining armor arrives, dear cousin?” His hatred dripped from every word.

  It looked like he’d had one too many already, Danielle thought. She would not fall for whatever new game he was playing so she remained silent.

  He laughed. “Suit yourself then. Get over here, boy.”

  The boy shot a look in her direction and Danielle nodded for him to be quick. Thomas was too focused on his gluttony of fine things that he missed the exchange and she was glad.

  The silence was long as he poured himself a drink and drank it down. Wine ran down his chin and she felt sick at the sounds he made as he finished. He waved the boy away with irritation as he wiped his mouth free and clean before the wine stained it. The loud belch that followed gave her the chance to shoo the boy from the room. Another one unscathed and Danielle let out a tight breath.

  “Well now. Look at you. Your Norman Knight is but a moment from crashing through the gate and you still have not changed into something more suitable or at least…more appealing? I’m not even sure that would be possible or make that much of a difference. Yet, we must be on our best behavior for these heathen Normans.”

  He grimaced, looking uglier than he already was, if that was possible, Danielle thought. He threw his head back with a loud sniff as though he’d just smelled something foul. Danielle held her laugh.

  The only foul scent in the room was his own. His smell and nasal tone disgusted her as did his too snug attire and colorful tunics. The thick curl of hair that fell over his brow, he was too vain, she guessed to cut, made his pinched face that much worse. He looked like a strutting peacock. No one ever commented for fear of his vicious temper.

  Danielle bit her lip to stop the tremors, not from fear, but anger. She was dressed appropriately. She had made and fashioned the gown herself and although it was not of the finest cut of cloth from which Thomas and his sister donned, she was still proud of her creation. It was, after all the best she could do with what little she allotted herself to spend whilst Thomas spent lavishly on himself and Rose from her dowry.

  This too would soon stop upon her marriage and she could not help but smile as she cleared her throat. “There is naught wrong with this gown, Thomas. Besides ‘tis all the fabric I was able to steal away from the paltry scraps left behind by your sister. ‘Tis quite presentable in which to meet this would be husband that I do not want.” She did tremble then at her bold-faced lie.

  In truth, although she was angry and somewhat bitter over being forgotten by this man she’d yet to meet, a part of her was glad he had finally arrived.

  A knight to whisk away all their troubles would be the answer to their problems. Foolish thinking she’d readily admit, but she still clung
to it.

  She knew nothing of this Norman warrior other than that he was among William’s highly favored knights. Upon marriage to her he would be lord over the vast estates of her ancestors and all within. Including her.

  A chill settled over her at that and Danielle silently blessed herself for strength. She could get through this. After all he was just a man.

  A man she hoped might be a good man, even if he was Norman.

  Her cousin’s nasal voice drew her from her wandering thoughts. “Tone, dear cousin, tone. ‘Twould seem you are deliberately trying to bate me. And I know you wouldn’t want to do that with your knight in shining armor so near, now would you?”

  Danielle wanted to scratch his eyes out.

  Instead she made to walk past him and let out a shriek when his hand snaked out and grabbed her by the scruff of her dress. He shoved Edie away from her side and Danielle knew what she had to do and she let out a small whimper.

  Thomas’s shrill filled the chamber as he shook her. “You look like a peasant cow!” He called out loudly over his shoulder. “Rose!”

  Danielle sent Edie a warning look to remain back for the guard that had entered with her cousin was eyeing her maid with eagerness to strike. Edie backed away, but her anger was written all over her face. Danielle could deal with Thomas, he would bore of his sport of her soon enough. No reason to have her maid suffer his hands as well.

  Danielle struggled against his hold and after a moment, he released the neck of her kirtle and shoved her away from him hard. Danielle caught her footing and from the look in his eyes, she knew the bastard was upset that she’d not fallen. Thomas waved an exasperated hand of dismissal in her direction and straightened his clothing before calling out again for his sister.

  Danielle fumed. Her being dressed like a servant never bothered him before. She could feel his beady eyes upon her as she gave him her back and walked away lest he see the anger seething within her. She smoothed down the rumpled collar of her gown.