Page 5 of Lion of Steel (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #4)

He’d been a great knight, once.

Eric le Kerque had fought with the armies of Henry III as a younger man. He’d been to France, to Flanders, and a dozen other places during his years as an active fighting man. He loved to travel and loved being part the greater army because he felt as if he was truly a man of destiny. He was well respected and liked by his men, something that continued to this day as he trained royal troops. But one thing that had changed was how he viewed the world in general, battles included. That fearless knight who was courageous in battle had come to an end in a little skirmish outside of Paris.

The day when Eric had transformed into something different had started out just like any other day. It had been a cold winter, and he awoke that morning to frost on the ground and a faint dusting of snow falling from clouds the color of pewter. They had been preparing to lay siege to a small castle belonging to a French duc who had stolen property from Henry, and the king wanted it back. Eric had suited up that morning and prepared to fight, but as he was approaching the castle on horseback, a volley of arrows cut both him and his horse down. The horse died and Eric didn’t, yet the road to recovery was more difficult than he could have possibly imagined.

The arrow had cut into his torso and damaged nerves to his legs. Because the initial arrow strike hadn’t killed him, they had every reason to believe that he was going to recover, but a poison had taken hold a few days after the strike and he’d been sick with that for months on end. The poison had weakened everything about him, and when it was all finished, he had no strength in his arms and his body as a whole was diminished. But he had worked very hard to regain his strength, as much as he was able, and because Henry liked him, he put him in charge of helping train royal troops. His assignment had been Axminster Castle.

That had been about ten years ago, and Eric was good at what he did. He was a good instructor and he had patience, which was important when dealing with raw troops. He taught them to ride, to walk in a column, and military ethics, but when it came to anything that had to do with weaponry, he would leave that to his sergeants.

He didn’t want to be around it.

His fear of deadly objects had made him a somewhat ineffective knight when Tatworth attacked. He was good with tactics and defenses, but when it came to the actual fighting, he remained at the castle and in command while he sent his men out to fight. He didn’t get involved in any of the allies or their meetings, while Isabel did. Because of this, he hadn’t even met Douglas until two days after Tatworth surrendered. Isabel had told him about the allies stationing troops at Axminster, something he didn’t agree with, so he’d sent word to Douglas that he was in command once again and allied help was no longer required. That had brought Curtis to the castle to explain, yet again, that they were going to station de Lohr troops there for the foreseeable future and that Douglas would be in command while Eric would continue with his duties.

Eric had no choice but to accept it.

That had been six weeks ago.

This afternoon, as his men were being trained by others, Eric made his way to the keep and slipped in through a door used by the servants. He made his way up to the top floor, up the narrow servant stairs, until he reached a chamber that faced the northwest. The top floor of Axminster’s keep had six chambers, interconnected, but that meant doors could be locked from the staircases and no one could enter the maze of chambers. That was why Eric and Isabel had been meeting there for the past few years, pretending that lonely chamber overlooking the northwest was theirs and theirs alone.

Pretending it belonged only to them.

Here, he had waited for his love to come.

“My apologies for my lateness,” Isabel said as she came through the door. She gestured toward the servant staircase. “Is that one locked?”

Eric had been sitting at the window, gazing at the activity below. “Aye,” he said. “Lock the chamber door behind you, my dearest.”

Isabel did. With a sigh of relief, she pulled off her wimple, letting he red hair tumble down her back. She set the wimple aside, scratching at her scalp as she made her way over to Eric. He smiled at her, opening an arm, and she leaned into him as she peered from the window.

“Do you see any of my ladies down there?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not recently,” he said. “But I did hear about Douglas and Lady Mira.”

Isabel put her fingers to her forehead as if to ward off a headache. “Oh,” she said. “That.”

“Aye, that. What are you going to do about it?”

Isabel shrugged. “What can I do?” she said. “Douglas is not under my command, so I cannot discipline him, but I told Mira she is not to allow that type of display ever again. Evidently, he has asked for her hand.”

“Is that so?”

“I have been told.”

Eric moved over so she could sit beside him on the stone window bench. “He really should have known better,” he muttered. “He is a de Lohr. He knows about propriety. What he did was impetuous. And vulgar.”

Isabel looked at him. “Do you think so?”

Eric shrugged. “Truthfully, I do not,” he said. “All things considered, I suppose it was rather romantic, but not for all to see. He risks her reputation doing that.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Reputation,” she scoffed. “Pah. What he risks is nine other ladies weeping their hearts and out and becoming hysterical because he has declared for Mira. Primmy actually fainted.”

Eric looked at her but eventually lost the battle against the smile that threatened. “Good Christ,” he muttered. “They are a dramatic bunch.”

“Dramatic and annoying,” Isabel said. “The older ones aren’t too bad, but Primmy and Marceline keep fainting, each one trying to be more dramatic than the other. They have declared their undying hatred for Douglas now.”

Eric shook his head. “They hate him?” he said. “God’s Bones, they have been awful to the man. Following him around like a puppy, fighting to see who sits next to him at sup, and then hiding in the privy while he takes a piss. If anyone should hate, it should be Douglas—on them.”

Isabel was listening to him, amused. “Do you care?” she said. “The man has usurped you in your own castle. Why do you care how he is treated?”

Eric chuckled. “He did not usurp me,” he said. “I’ve told you that. We have overcome our misunderstandings from the beginning of his post here. Truthfully, I rather like him. He and his knight—the one they call Wolfie—have been very helpful with the troops who are going through combat training now. I wish I had de Lohr and Wolfie all the time to help like that.”

Isabel leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. “I am glad he has been of assistance,” she said. “But I simply do not think we need him or his troops here any longer.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “That is not your decision to make, my dearest.”

She sighed again, sharply this time. “Why not?” she said. “This is my castle. I should be the one making all of the decisions, including military decisions.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I do not disagree with you,” he said. “We were doing quite well until Tatworth came along and tried to steal you away from me. You never did tell de Lohr that you and Tatworth had been virtually betrothed until I foiled his plans, did you?”

Isabel shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “He did not need to know that, though I believe Rickard told him. I am not sure if Douglas believed him, but it does not matter. I got the better man.”

“A better man you will not marry.”

Her expression tightened and she pushed herself off the bench, away from him. “Must you always bring that up?”

He watched her walk over to a table that held wine and fruit. “I do,” he said. “You told me you would marry me when the time was right, but so far, that time has not come. I fear it never will.”

She looked at him, pain in her expression. “Please do not say such things.”

“Why not?” he said. “It is true. You have let your father and brother get into your head and into your heart. They told you that you must marry a man above your station, no matter what you feel for him, so that is what you wait for. A better man than me.”

She closed her eyes and looked away. “That is not true,” she said weakly. “It is simply that the death of my brother has put such a large burden on me. Everything is mine, Eric. The stress and strain, the finances, the relationship with the king… everything. I want to marry you when my heart and mind are lighter than they are now. If I marry you now, I feel as if I cannot focus on our marriage.”

He looked at her, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Those are excuses, and weak ones at that,” he said softly. “I love you, Isabel de Kerrington. I have loved you since the moment I first gazed upon you. I want to marry you and I want you to bear my son before you grow too old to do such a thing. You have already seen forty years. You will not be fertile much longer, my dearest.”

“Is that all you care about?” she said. “A son? If that is your greatest concern, then you must find someone else to marry, because I will not be a broodmare.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“Do I?” she shot back softly. Then she shook her head and waved him off. “I do not wish to discuss it now. I must decide what to do about Mira and Douglas. I feel as if I should have a word with him about the situation, Eric. Do you not agree?”

She was changing the subject, as she always did when it came to marriage. Disappointed yet again, Eric simply went along with it.

“Would you rather I speak to him?” he asked, sounding dejected. “It might be better coming from me.”

Isabel could hear the defeat in his voice and it cut her, but she refused to give in to it. She knew what he was thinking. She understood his disappointment. But the truth was that he was right—he was a lesser knight from a lesser family. She was the heiress to Axminster. When she married him, it would become his. Was he strong enough for it? Certainly, Eric was a kind and generous man. She loved him dearly. But she was frankly concerned about his being the Earl of Axminster and all it entailed. He wasn’t born into it like she was. He would be assuming it, stepping into her father’s and brother’s shoes. The very sad fact was that she wasn’t sure he could administer the job. It might crush him.

And she didn’t want to crush him.

But she also didn’t want to lose him.

“Nay,” she said after a moment. “It is my responsibility. Will you find him and send him to the solar? I will speak to him there.”

Eric nodded but didn’t move. When she turned to look at him curiously, he simply extended an arm to her. It was an invitation for her to return to her seat beside him, to return to his embrace. Even when he was hurt, or disappointed, he never fought with her. He was subservient to her because he knew, deep down, why she was reserved. He didn’t want to be the Earl of Axminster, but if he married her, he would be. He wanted to marry the woman, not the title.

But she was the title.

And Isabel knew it. She knew everything. Without another word, she went to him, allowing him to pull her into an embrace, allowing his lips to claim hers. They had utter, complete privacy in the northwest chamber and had taken advantage of it numerous times in the past. This was why they met here, a place of deep and abiding memories, because it had been in this very chamber seven years ago that Eric had claimed Isabel’s virginity. She’d given it to the man she loved, a simple knight with a heart of gold. She, too, had loved him the moment she first saw him, and she always would. But she didn’t want to talk anymore.

She simply wanted to taste him.

Even as Eric kissed her furiously, Isabel’s hands moved to his breeches, fumbling with the ties. When he realized what she was doing, he helped her. With the ties finally free, Isabel’s warm hands snaked into his breeches and sought out his semi-flaccid manhood. With the first touch of her soft hands, he knew he was lost. He couldn’t deny her.

He didn’t want to be denied, either.

Due to the chill morning weather, and because he was susceptible to the cold, there were myriad clothes on Eric’s body and Isabel helped him yank it off, unwilling and unable to wait. He was wearing a woolen tunic underneath everything, but it stopped at his hips, so he was unconstrained when Isabel yanked his breeches to his knees.

There was a powerful sense of urgency now, of a desire so fierce that they were overwhelmed with it. Eric lifted Isabel onto the stone bench of the window, pulling her legs apart and wedging himself between them. She threw her skirts back and wrapped her legs around his waist, taking gentle hold of his now-rigid phallus and guiding it into her warm, slick folds. Holding her tightly, Eric impaled her upon his manhood.

Isabel gasped with the pleasure of it, her arms going around him, her nails biting into his shoulders. Feeling the man within her fed her soul as air fed the lungs. Eric held her tightly, thrusting into her willing body. He couldn’t get enough of her, driving into her as she whispered heated words in his ear. Isabel’s hands found his bare buttocks, squeezing them, and he found it wildly arousing. With a few more thrusts, he quickly removed himself before he could spill into her body. Instead, he spilled on the floor. But fingers finished for her what his phallus couldn’t, and he silenced her cries of passion with his mouth as she found her own release.

As their passion cooled, their kisses transformed from wild and passionate to soft and gentle. Eric tasted her deeply, his hands roaming as he gently suckled on her mouth, moving under her garment, which had been loosened, and up her torso to her breasts. He fondled her nipples as their kisses trailed off. Isabel tossed her head back, her eyes closed as Eric toyed with her breasts tenderly. He finally laid her back on the bench and pushed her skirts up all the way, kissing her belly, finally suckling gently on her breasts.

Isabel let him. She let him do what he wished to do as the day around them went on. They could hear the men in the bailey, distant horses, the chatter of birds. Moments like this were a window into a life they could have, a life of normalcy as husband and wife. Moments like this were when Isabel was her weakest against his argument of marriage. When he took her yet again, she was a willing participant. As the man thrust into her, she found herself wondering if he would let himself spill into her this time and she would conceive that son he’d spoken of. He was usually careful about that, but sometimes he surrendered to his passion and released himself as God intended. Perhaps this time it was all a ploy to impregnate her so she would be forced to marry him.

Perhaps that had been his plan all along.

That thought had her resisting a little, wanting to move out from under him and accuse him of such a thing, but he felt her movement, and that only made him hold her more tightly. She moved again but that made him hit just the right spot with her, and she felt her release beginning, unable to pull away. She would let him do what he was doing—and no matter what her paranoia was thinking, her body had surrendered to him.

Her man.

Her love.

The scolding of Douglas de Lohr was going to have to wait.