Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Lioncross Abbey Castle

Welsh marches

Several days later

"I 've never seen Papa so angry," Westley said. "Thank God you've come. Cheltenham is causing an uproar."

It was sunset on a day that had been cold but sunny as spring began to transition into summer. The ride from Pembridge Castle, for Roi, had been a smooth one, and he'd reached Lioncross in record time at the summons of Curtis. But it was Westley who had met him at the gatehouse.

"When did he arrive?" Roi asked. "Christ, Papa has only been returned from Pembridge for a few days. Robin must have received my missive and immediately raced here."

"Raced?" Westley repeated in disbelief. "I believe he flew. You should have seen his horse when he arrived—the poor thing is still recovering, and Cheltenham has been making a nuisance of himself ever since."

"I do not know what that man wants from me," Roi growled as he turned his horse over to the nearest soldier. "I no longer have a son to marry his daughter. What in the hell does he want from me? Blood?"

Westley eyed him with uncertainty. "I probably should not tell you this, but I heard them arguing," he said. "Cheltenham wants his five hundred gold marks returned, the dowry he'd already paid you when the betrothal was signed. Or…"

"Or what ?"

"Or he wants another de Lohr son," Westley said grimly. "One way or the other, that man wants his daughter to marry a de Lohr. He doesn't care who it is. He's going around asking every man he sees if he's a de Lohr. He asked Curtis and then demanded to know if Curtis was already married. Curtis nearly took his head off. Papa has kept me out of the solar for that very reason."

Roi looked at him, aghast. "Cheltenham wants you ?"

Westley grunted, perplexed. "He wants one of us—any one of us." He shook his head. "I have no desire to marry Beck's betrothed. No offense to Beck or the girl, but I will choose my own bride, thank you."

Roi stared at him a moment, processing the outrageous situation, before heading off toward the keep with Westley by his side. He'd ridden at a hard pace, concerned with the information in his brother's summons, but now that he knew the details of Robin's appearance at Lioncross Abbey, he was growing more furious by the second. How dare the man come and harass his elderly father? How dare the man behave so abominably in the face of their grief? Roi was going to take the five hundred gold marks he brought with him and shove them down Robin's throat.

After he told the man what he thought of him.

They reached the wide steps that led into Lioncross' keep, but before they could pass through the doorway, Roi held out a hand to Westley.

"Stay here," he said. "If the man is spitting venom, I do not want you in his range. In fact, I want you to stay well clear of what I am about to do."

Westley looked concerned. "What are you going to do?"

Roi's response was to crack his knuckles before heading into the keep.

Lioncross Abbey's keep was only a keep in the literal sense—it was the center of the castle and where the family lived—but it wasn't round or even square. It was a building, like a palace with many rooms, built atop the ruins of an ancient Roman temple, which was why they called it the "abbey." But the structure itself was vast and wide, with wings and floors, and it was a most fitting residence for the Earl of Hereford and Worcester. In fact, Roi thought he could hear his father's voice as he approached the man's solar. But he also heard another voice, talking over him.

Robin .

Roi burst into the chamber.

The first thing he did was point at Robin standing a few feet away from Christopher, who was sitting in a chair with a hand on his head. Seeing this, and the strained expression on his father's face, Roi boomed.

"You!" he said. " Sit! "

It was perhaps the loudest shout anyone had ever heard out of Roi, but he was positively enraged. Robin, shocked at the man's appearance, stumbled back as Roi came toward him.

"Roi!" he said in surprise. "You… you have come!"

He didn't sit fast enough for Roi's liking, so Roi charged the man and shoved him back into the nearest chair. He shoved him so hard that the chair tilted sideways, nearly toppling to the ground, but both Roi and Robin stopped it from falling completely. As Roi righted it, he got in Robin's face.

"That will be enough out of you," he snarled. "Do you understand me?"

Robin was truly taken aback. "What do you—"

"Shut your lips," Roi barked. "For once, shut your bloody lips. I had to listen to you for two solid years, you and your eternal yapping, never listening to anyone but always making sure your voice was the loudest. I will tell you now that your assault of my father will not be tolerated, and I do not care if you are an earl. One more word out of you, in rage, towards me or my father, and I will gut you where you sit and dump your body out on the road for the birds. If anyone asks, you were killed by outlaws. Do you understand what I am telling you? Your bullying and insults will no longer be tolerated."

By the time he was finished, Robin was looking at him with both fear and outrage. "Say what you will," he said after a moment. "But I am still an earl, and you cannot threaten me."

"I just did."

"Roi," Christopher said quietly. "Back away from Cheltenham. Go."

Roi let his furious gaze linger on Robin for a moment to emphasize that he meant everything he said before moving away, over toward his father. He tore his gaze off Robin to look at his elderly, exhausted father.

"Are you well, Papa?" he asked. "I am so sorry he came here, though I do not understand why. He should have come to me at Pembridge."

Christopher put his hand on Roi, his emotional son, and pulled him closer as if fearful Roi would break away and throttle Robin right in front of him.

"Cheltenham is a valuable ally," he said simply. "This situation is… difficult. He came to offer his condolences, but he also wants to know what we intend to do about the situation now that it has happened. He paid for a husband. He wants one or he wants his money back."

Roi's jaw twitched furiously as he looked at Robin still sitting in the chair. "I shall give him his money back," he rumbled. "I will shove it right down his contemptible throat."

"Roi," Christopher snapped softly. "I realize you are upset. We are all upset. But I told you that this was an important situation to us all. Cheltenham would like to be allied with us by marriage, and whoever marries his daughter will inherit the earldom. That is quite a prize, and one I intend to keep, so this is not all his doing."

When Roi realized that his father wasn't all for kicking Robin from Lioncross, he looked at the man sharply. "What do you intend to do?"

Christopher sighed heavily. "I have other grandsons," he said. "I also have other sons that are not married. That is what Lord Cheltenham and I were discussing."

Roi's brow furrowed. "Then you do not want me to give the money back?"

Christopher shook his head. "Nay," he said. "For the good of all of us, I would like to provide Cheltenham with a de Lohr son. He will be the next Earl of Cheltenham."

Roi stared at his father, understanding what the man was saying. One way or the other, Robin would get his de Lohr husband and Christopher would have an alliance with Cheltenham. That was what all of this boiled down to—he could see that both of them were in on it. Both were determined to have an alliance, no matter the cost. But in this case, Christopher was determined that the earldom would have a de Lohr name. One more feather in the cap of the de Lohr empire. But the problem was that his father hadn't made the bargain in the first place.

Roi had.

This was all his doing.

At that realization, he began to feel sick. It occurred to him what he had to do, what the most logical choice in this situation would be, though he was loath to do it. The more he thought on it, the sicker he felt until he finally, and reluctantly, opened his mouth.

"You needn't select a de Lohr son or grandson, Papa," he said, suddenly sounding quite resigned. "It is not your responsibility to shoulder the problem that originated with me. I made the bargain. I would not ask anyone else to assume the burden."

Christopher looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

Roi's gaze lingered on his father for a moment before finally turning to Robin.

"You want a de Lohr husband?" he said. "Then you shall have one. Not a grandson of the earl, either, but a son. A son with wealth, reputation, property, and title. You can have me, Robin. It is only right, since your daughter was to marry my son. I shall wed your daughter in his stead, and then you can have everything you want."

Robin shot to his feet. "You?" he said. " You will marry her?"

"I am the best candidate. And the moral one."

He was right, and they all knew it. If the son could not marry the daughter, it was not only expected, but preferred that the widowed father marry the daughter in his son's stead. That had been the one solution neither Robin nor Christopher had suggested, given the fact that Roi was undoubtedly mourning his son. Adding a new wife on top of that would have been too much for any man.

But Roi made the offer.

Robin's jaw went slack as he took a few steps toward Roi, absolutely stunned by the offer.

"But you…" he said. "Are you serious, Roi?"

"I am."

"You're twice her age."

"I have seen forty years and three."

"She has only seen twenty."

"That does not matter, and you know it," Roi said steadily. "Age has no bearing here. I have more money than you do. I have property, prestige, and political position, and a family name that is respected throughout England. I have proven that I can father children, and, quite honestly, I am sure you would rather have your daughter married to a man who knows how to treat a wife than some young lord who has no concept of how a marriage should be conducted. I understand how to treat a woman. What more could you want?"

Nothing. That was the point—there was nothing more Robin could want. It was the perfect solution. The more he thought on it, the more thrilled he was.

"Roi," he said with sincerity in his tone. "I am truly at a loss for words. I never expected to marry my daughter to the second son of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester. That is a great and noble destiny for any woman."

"Then you accept?"

"I do. With God as my witness, I do."

"Good," Roi said, turning back to his father. "Papa, have your cleric draw up the agreement. I will sign it."

Christopher was looking at his son with great concern, trying to see how Roi really felt about this. It had taken the man years to get over his first wife's death, and he'd never, in that time, expressed interest in marrying again.

Until now.

Until he was given no choice.

"Are you sure?" Christopher asked softly. "Roi, are you absolutely sure?"

Roi nodded, but it was with effort. "Have the contract drawn up, please," he said. "I would appreciate it."

Christopher didn't make a move to summon his cleric, a man who happened to be married to his youngest sister. Gowen was his name, a scholarly man who had aptly helped Christopher manage his empire for years. But he didn't want Gowen at the moment. He stood up and went to the table that held wine and cups, pouring measures for them all. Roi got the biggest measure. He handed the drink over to his son and watched him drain the cup in two swallows.

That told him just how strained Roi was over the situation.

What the man did in order to save an alliance.

Sadness gripped him.

"It did not have to be you," he said so only Roi could hear him. "I nearly had Curtis convinced that it should be William."

William de Lohr was Curtis' second son, a good and noble lad, but he was also quite young. "Nay," Roi said, feeling exhausted and defeated now that the anger had drained from his veins. "William is not ready for marriage yet, and if Robin's daughter is abused or neglected in any way, it will sour this alliance faster than if there had been no marriage at all. You know that. If you want this alliance safely made, then this is the only way."

Christopher could hear his words reflected in Roi's statement, how he'd insisted the alliance with Cheltenham was something to be upheld in this matter. The way Roi made it sound, it was perhaps the most important thing to Christopher. But it wasn't—Christopher felt guilty that he'd evidently hammered that into Roi's brain too hard. It had caused Roi to make an offer he didn't want to make, but what was done was done.

It was finished.

"I apologize if I was hard on you, Roi," Robin said, breaking the silence in the chamber. "I realize you just lost your son, and I am greatly grieved for you, but you must understand that my primary concern is my daughter. She is involved in this whether or not you like it. I must look out for her best interests."

After his burst of anger, Roi couldn't even muster the strength to discuss it with the man. But he needed to make his position perfectly clear because he'd just committed to marrying the earl's daughter in his son's stead.

Their relationship was going to change.

"And I must look out for mine," he said, turning to Robin. "Understand I am only doing this in place of my son. It is my duty. I am not doing this because I want your daughter or her money or your earldom, but those things shall be mine now, and you and I are going to come to an understanding."

"Of course, Roi," Robin said, oddly compliant now that he had what he wanted. "What is it?"

Roi's gaze was intense. "Firstly, you will apologize to my father for harassing him," he said. "Do not deny it, because I hear it for myself. Apologize to this legendary man for your abominable behavior in a difficult situation."

Robin looked at Christopher, clearly regretting the temper tantrum he'd been pitching since his arrival. "My lord," he said. "I did not mean to disrespect you. As I said, the situation had me on edge. My daughter's future was of the utmost concern to me. If I was abusive, then I beg your forgiveness."

Christopher finished the cup of wine in his hand and poured himself another. "I have done verbal battle with men far greater and far more annoying than you," he said in a subtle insult. "Your alliance is valuable, le Bec, but sometimes you are difficult to stomach."

He went back over to his big table, a heavy oak table that had been built by some of the finest craftsmen in London. The de Lohr crest was on each side of the table, perfect in presentation, except for one side where Curtis and Roi, when they'd been small boys, had tried to carve their names into the shield. They'd received a fatherly beating, but Christopher still smiled when he saw their juvenile marks. He ran his fingers over those marks, reminding himself that the young boy who had carved them was now making a man's sacrifice.

"What must I do to gain your forgiveness?" Robin said, following from a distance. "I do not wish to be at odds with you, my lord."

Christopher held up a hand. "There is nothing to forgive… this time," he said. "But come at me again with your petulance and I will not be so forgiving a second time. Is that clear?"

"It is, my lord. Thank you."

Christopher pointed to Roi. "And thank my son, who has made a great sacrifice this day," he said. "He had no intention of marrying again, but because we value the Cheltenham alliance and because he felt that he must personally honor the betrothal contract in Beckett's stead, he has made a most noble sacrifice to keep our relationship intact."

Robin looked at Roi. "You know I am grateful," he said, sounding deeply sincere. "I know that Diara will have the finest husband in England. She is a good girl, Roi. She is kind and obedient. She will make a fine wife."

Roi simply nodded his head. Then he set his empty cup aside and quit the chamber because he simply couldn't look at Robin anymore. The more he realized what he had done, the more regret he felt. Nay, he didn't want to marry, but that didn't matter anymore. The only thing that gave him just a hint of pleasure was the fact that perhaps now he could have more children. Another son. It seemed that he had failed his family in that respect, so now he felt that he could at least fulfil his family obligations and procreate.

Maybe that was the only good thing that would come out of this.

As he headed out of the keep to get some fresh air and reconcile himself to his new future, he tried to remember what Diara le Bec looked like. He'd met her face to face only once, when Robin had brought her to Pembridge so that she and Beckett could become acquainted.

Roi remembered that she was somewhat tall and willowy, with long blonde hair and a beautiful face. That much, he did remember. She was a beautiful girl, and even Beckett had commented on the fact. He also seemed to recall that she had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, the color of periwinkle. But beyond that, he had no real impression of her because he'd not spent any time with her. Beckett had. Roi had spent all of his time with Robin while their children became acquainted under the watchful eye of Lady Cheltenham.

"Well? What happened?"

The voice came from behind. Roi turned to see Westley standing there along with another brother, Douglas. Douglas de Lohr was big and blond, like most of the de Lohrs, with straight, pale hair that hung down over one eye and a faint growth of beard on his face. He was three years older than Westley, known as the quiet brother due to a slight speech impediment. He was more of a follower than a leader, but he would carry out any order, any time, without hesitation or question. When one was entering into any kind of armed conflict, Douglas de Lohr was the knight everyone wanted. The first man into a fight and the last one out.

He was a knight's knight.

"Well?" Douglas said. "Did you give back to Cheltenham what he's been dishing out since his arrival?"

Douglas' speech impediment manifested itself as a slight lisp, which made him self-conscious although no one else really noticed. But Roi shook his head.

"Not as much as I should have," he said. "Had he been bellowing at Father like that since his arrival?"

Both Westley and Douglas nodded. "Why do you think Curtis sent word to you?" Westley said. "Cheltenham was yelling the moment he rode in through the gatehouse. What happened in there?"

Roi sighed heavily. "I told him to apologize to Father."

Westley and Douglas grinned in approval. "Good," Douglas said. "The arrogant bore. What else? Is he getting his money back?"

"He is not getting his money back."

"Is his daughter marrying William?"

Roi shook his head. "Nay, not William."

"Praise the saints," Westley said, looking at Douglas in relief. "I told Papa about the girl, you know. He must have taken that to heart."

Roi looked between his brothers. "What girl?"

"Cheltenham's daughter," Westley said.

"What about her?"

"It seems that the girl has something of a reputation."

Roi blinked slowly. He didn't like the sound of that at all. "What kind of reputation?"

Westley slapped Roi on the arm. "'Tis a good thing Beckett did not marry her," he said. Then he froze. "I'm sorry, Roi. I did not mean that the way it sounded. I did not mean what happened to Beckett was a blessing. Not at all. I shall miss my nephew desperately. I simply meant—"

Roi waved him off. "I know what you meant," he said. "But what about the girl?"

Westley, still feeling bad about his slip, threw a thumb in an easterly direction. "Sometimes Cheltenham men come to the Rose and Crown in Hereford," he said. "Passing through, you know. It's on the road from Shrewsbury, and Cheltenham has a sister in Shrewsbury."

He was speaking of a tavern in Hereford that the knights liked to haunt because it had a surprising variety of ales from ships offloaded in Chepstow and brought north. Roi knew the place because he'd spent a good deal of time there himself.

" And ?" he demanded.

"And the Cheltenham men have spoken of the earl's daughter," he said. "She is evidently quite… friendly."

Roi frowned, as he thought he knew what his brother was alluding to. "She's unchaste?"

"Nay, not that," Westley said. "But she has many men who have fallen in love with her. She's a beautiful girl and will evidently speak to anyone. They say she spends time tending the poor and seems to not have an aversion to the lower class. But women like that are fodder for gossip. That's all I meant."

Roi still wasn't sure how he felt about the news. "If she tends to the poor, then she must have a compassionate heart," he said. "As for the rest—her father told me she had other suitors, but he did not tell me she had a reputation for being overly friendly. Does she tease men? Is that what she does?"

Westley shrugged. "I do not know," he said. "But better to avoid someone like that, I suppose. Let her marry someone else."

Roi shook his head at the irony of it all, running his fingers through his hair. "We have not avoided someone like that," he said flatly. "In order to spare any of you marriage to Cheltenham's daughter, I assumed the role myself. With Beckett gone, the most logical replacement is me. I am fulfilling the contract."

Westley and Douglas' eyes widened to epic proportions. "You?" Westley said. "You are marrying that girl?"

Roi was starting to lose his patience. "I am marrying the Earl of Cheltenham's daughter," he said. "When the earl passes on, I will inherit the title and the lands. Cheltenham will be mine. This is a marriage of political and strategic importance, and it is my marriage, so if I ever hear you repeat those stories about the earl's daughter, I will throttle you myself. Am I making myself clear?"

Westley nodded, fearful of his older brother even though he was an equal match for him in a fight. "Aye, Roi, of course," he said. "I am sorry I said anything at all. I am sure she is a very nice lady. I hope."

Douglas slapped a hand over Westley's mouth and pulled him out of Roi's range, but Roi had no intention of taking a swipe at his youngest brother. In fact, he had very much the same thought.

I'm sure she is a very nice lady. I hope .

He had the distinct feeling that his life was about to change—drastically.

"It is of little matter," he muttered. "It is done. We have the alliance, and I will have the money and titles and the hope for more sons from my new wife. No one can replace Beckett, of course, but it would be nice to have sons to pass my title and wealth to. A man needs a legacy, after all. I thought mine had died at Selbourne Castle, but it seems that it has not. I am being given a second chance."

"That is a good way to look at it, Roi," Douglas said. "If there is anything we can do to help…"

"There is," Roi said, turning to him. "Beckett is supposed to be arriving at Pembridge any day now. I've told Kyne and Adrius to send him straight to Lioncross, so would you ride to Pembridge tomorrow and await my son's body? I would consider it a personal favor if you could give him an escort to Lioncross because I intend to remain here, at least while Cheltenham is here."

Both brothers nodded. "Absolutely," Douglas said. "We will leave right away. Mama is still at Pembridge with Adalia and Dorian, is she not?"

Roi nodded. "I left her there with the girls," he said. "We are fortunate Pembridge is less than a day's ride away, especially where Papa is concerned. He has done much traveling in the past several days. I do not want it to wear him out."

"He's strong," Douglas said. "But you… I am worried about you, Roi. First the death of Beckett and now an unexpected marriage? That is a great deal to happen to one man in such a short amount of time."

Roi smiled weakly at Douglas. "I will survive," he said. "There is nothing I can do about Beckett except mourn him for the rest of his life. As for the marriage… the more I think on it, the more I am pleased with the opportunity to have more children. That is how I must view the situation. I must see something positive in this horrific circumstance."

Douglas smiled sadly, patting him on the shoulder. There wasn't much more that either one of them could say. The wheels were in motion, and Roi was committed to fulfilling the contract his son could no longer fulfil. As a good father, it was his duty. They all knew that, and it made them respect him all the more. Through his pain, Roi was doing what needed to be done.

That was the sign of the strongest of men.

As Westley headed off to the stables to prepare for the journey to Pembridge, Douglas remained with Roi, following him into the chapel of Lioncross Abbey, where Roi selected just the right spot for his son's final resting place. Near the rear of the chapel, behind the altar, there was a spot near the lancet windows. As Douglas stood off in the shadows, Roi stood in that spot, seeing the view his son would see for eternity. Feeling the air from the windows that Beckett would feel.

Or not feel.

For a moment, Roi forgot about the new wife, about Robin and his petulance, and about his world that had so suddenly and brutally changed. He thought of his son, from the little boy who liked to collect bugs to the young man who was so skilled at combat. Roi had the privilege of fighting a battle with his son, just once, a small skirmish that was not worth mentioning, but he'd experienced that father's pride that he would never feel again with Beckett. All of that was lost when Beckett had been unseated from his horse and landed awkwardly on his head. Roi knew he wasn't the first father to lose a son, but, by damn… it certainly felt like it.

It felt as if his world had ended.

At least, the old one had.

Standing in the spot where Beckett would be spending eternity, he finally allowed himself to feel the grief that he'd been wrestling with since he first received the news. For Beckett, he wept. For the son he lost, he let the agony fill him. Just this once, he let it wash over him. It was a farewell on the most basic parental level, and it was the most painful thing he'd ever experienced.

From the shadows, Douglas wept with him.