Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (49 page)

He kissed her hand as it moved
near his mouth.  But it was not good enough for him so he pulled her down to
him, sweetly kissing her lips.

“With all of the love I have in
my heart for you, I did not think it possible that I could feel more, but I
do,” he murmured, suckling her lower lip gently. “You are a remarkable and gracious
woman, Lady Pembury, and I am deeply proud to be your husband.”

She smiled faintly, her hands on
his face. “Kenneth said that if I ever grow weary of you, then he will gladly
take your place.”

Stephen’s eyebrows flew up. “Is
that so?” he grumbled, watching her giggle.  He tried to throw the covers off
but his ribs made it difficult to move quickly. “Where is he? I will thrash him
soundly.”

She laughed at him, pushing him
back on the bed. “Not to worry, husband,” she straddled him, pinning his arms.
“I will never grow weary of you, I swear it. Kenneth will have to find another
wife.”

He gazed up at her, a smile on
his lips, once again reflecting on how rich his life was. He was happier, more
content, than he had ever been.  The journey to get to this point had been well
worth every twist and every turn.  His hands came up, even the bandaged one,
and cupped her face gently.

“I love you, Lady Pembury,” he
pulled her down to his seeking lips. “With all that I am, I love you.”

Joselyn couldn’t even answer him.
Her touch said everything he needed to know.

EPILOGUE

December 1337 A.D.

Bayhall Castle, Pembury, England

Stephen was a man with his hands
full. With all of the battles in all of England that he had fought, there was
no battle more harrowing than the one he had on his hands at the moment. 

 It all started when he had
turned his back on his toddlers for a moment to relay the command to open the
great iron portcullis of his ancestral home, Bayhall.  It was now his seat as
Baron Pembury, hereditary home of the Culpepper family, Stephen’s family name. 
His attention could not have been diverted more than a few seconds, something
he would be swearing to his wife at some point, but in that time his children
ran amuck. When he turned around, both babies had found a section of melted
snow that had made muddy soup and had gleefully stepped into it.

Stephen tried to move swiftly to
pick the children up before they muddied their clean clothes, but he was not
fast enough.  His three and a half year old son, Remington, was the leader of
the Pembury rebels.  He had his father’s size, the Pembury cornflower blue
eyes, and a natural air of command even at his tiny age.  Rem was the first one
into mischief and had little sense of making the wrong decision.  If he wanted
to do it, it must therefore be right.  Stephen already had his hands full with
him, adoring his son more than words could express.

Following right behind him was
his younger sister by thirteen months, the Lady Ashton. A splendidly gorgeous
child in the spitting image of her mother, she was, Stephen was sure, the
sweetest thing to have ever walked the earth.   She was also a very vocal
child, much more than her older brother, and spoke in complete sentences with
intelligence beyond her years.  Stephen was positive he could not have been
more in love with her than he already was; almost more than anyone else, his
world revolved around lovely little Ashton and her pale blue eyes.

But she was also a troublemaker
like her brother and stomped around in the muddy water even as Stephen swooped
down to pick her up.  Rem was not thrilled with being pulled out of the mud and
screamed like a holy terror as Stephen hauled him and his sister away. With one
screaming toddler under each arm, Stephen moved quickly to the keep of Bayhall,
hoping to get them inside and cleaned up before their mother discovered that he
had let them become filthy just as Christmas guests were arriving.  

Yet it was not to be. Mother had
heard the screaming and was coming to see what the trouble was. Joselyn met him
at the door to the keep, a six month old infant in her arms and her pale blue
eyes blazing.  She rolled her eyes when she saw the mess on the toddlers.

“Good Heavens,” she exclaimed.
“Stephen, I told you to keep them out of trouble. What happened?”

Stephen sighed with resignation,
setting Rem to his feet because he was kicking so much. “I turned my back on
them for a moment,” he explained lamely. “I have no other excuse.”

Outside, they could hear the
commotion as the portcullis lifted and the incoming party began to enter the
bailey of Bayhall. The sounds of equipment, animals and the voices of people
filled the snowy air.  Joselyn peered from the entry door, noting the crimson
colors of the Earl of Carlisle.  She turned to Stephen with a look to kill.

“They have arrived,” she hissed,
handing him the baby and taking Ashton from his arms. “Welcome our guests while
I clean up your mess.”

Stephen took the baby, who gazed
up at his father with enormous pale blue eyes.  Stephen kissed the dark head of
Sebastian, moving to help his wife with Rem when the boy refused to cooperate. 
Joselyn struggled to haul the fighting three year-old to the stairs until she
finally came to a halt and knelt down in front of him.

“Rem,” she said with gentle
firmness. “Your friends are coming to see you. We must change your clothes so
that you can play with them and give them your gifts. Don’t you want to give
them your gifts?”

Rem was such a handsome young lad
with his dark hair and bright blue eyes. He frowned at his mother but had, at
least, stop kicking for the moment. “Is Cade here?” he asked.

Joselyn nodded patiently. “He is
coming with the Earl.  You want to see your brother, don’t you? Then we must
hurry and change our clothes.”

Rem began to scramble up the
stairs.  Joselyn watched him clamor up the stone, puffing out her cheeks and
exhaling sharply as she turned to her husband.  She indicated the baby in his
arms. “Can you at least manage to keep Sebastian clean while I take care of these
two?”

He smiled, moving to kiss her
sweetly.  “I will endeavor to do my best,” he kissed her again. “You had better
hurry before Rem tears his room apart looking for clean clothes.”

“He will tear his room apart in
any case.  He is such a terror that I am fearful of what will happen when he
grows older.”

Stephen wriggled his eyebrows. “I
am still bigger than he is. Hopefully I shall be able to hold my own as he
grows older.”

Joselyn shook her head and
grinned, holding her daughter by the hand as she carefully helped the child up
the steps.  Stephen watched them go before wrapping the swaddling tightly
around the baby and taking him out into the cold winter weather.

The bailey was full of horses,
men, and three heavily packed wagons.  A large carriage was off to the left and
Stephen’s eyes fixed on it as he descended the stairs from the keep.  A
smattering of clouds was depositing a dusting of snow crystals into the air,
sticking on the ice-cold stone structures. As Stephen walked around one of the
big wagons, a shout caught his attention.  He turned in time to see Toby
heading towards him with several children in tow.

She was wrapped in a heavy fur
cloak, smiling from ear to ear.  She had three children following her; young
Arabella was seven years, holding the youngest child, two year-old Sophie, on
her hip while four year-old Dane was lured by the snowy mud puddles like Rem
and Ashton had been.  Toby grabbed the boy before he could get into trouble.
She opened her arms, giving Stephen a warm hug as she focused on the baby in
his arms. 

“’Tis so good to see you,” she
told him although she was looking at the infant. “And this must be Sebastian.
Stephen, he’s beautiful.”

Stephen smiled proudly, barely
having time to say a word before she was pulling the baby out of his arms.  She
cradled the infant, rocking him gently and cooing soft baby talk to him. 
Sebastian rewarded her with a smile and Toby crowed with delight.

“He is wonderful,” she declared,
smiling up at Stephen. “I believe I will take him home with me.”

Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “You
will have to take that up with my wife. I am not entirely sure she would be
willing to give him up.” He watched Toby laugh softly. “Besides, you have your
own brood.”

He put an enormous hand on Dane’s
head as the boy came close, mussing the dark hair.  Toby cast an affectionate
eye over her youngest three children. “Roman, Dylan and Alex are on their way
here from Kenilworth,” she said. “I have not seen them since the summer. I miss
them terribly.”

Stephen snorted. “I have heard
that they have single-handedly taken over the castle,” he laughed. “The earl
fears your sons. He says he is going to turn them loose on the Welsh.”

Toby lifted an eyebrow. “Beware,
Pembury; they will be here in a few days.  Be careful that they do not take
your castle out from under you.”

“At least your husband will be
here to help me fend them off,” he said, looking around. “Speaking of your
husband, where is he? And where is Cade?”

Toby lifted her eyebrows. “They
both went to go fetch Cate from Windsor,” she replied. “She is eight years old
and already entrenched in the court.  Tate misses her so much that he went to
retrieve her himself, and you know that Cade is quite fond of her as well. I do
believe we will be related in a few years by marriage, Stephen.”

Stephen put his hand over his
heart and rolled his eyes. “I cannot believe how these children are growing
up.”

Toby grinned. “Just so you know,
Tate is extremely protective over Cate and views your son as a threat. But he
loves the boy and approves of him, so he is somewhat torn. Be prepared to
receive all manner of lecture from him.”

Stephen couldn’t pass up the
opportunity to jab at Tate, for any reason. “Hmmm,” he looked thoughtful. “I do
believe that I will bring up the subject of his daughter’s dowry.  My son will
marry no pauper.”

“He should be here in another day
or so and you can discuss it with him then. But I would be prepared to defend
myself if I were you.”

Stephen laughed softly, watching
Arabella set Sophie to her feet and then snorting as Sophie and Dane did
exactly as his youngsters had done; they went straight for the snowy mud
puddles. But a firm word from Toby stopped them and Stephen raised his
eyebrows.

“I have not yet learned that
particular command when it comes to children,” he commented. “My children do as
they please no matter what I say.”

Toby shook her head
reproachfully. “Stephen, you command hundreds of men and a powerful empire. Do
you mean to tell me that you’ve not yet learned to control your children?”

He looked ashamed. “My wife does
but, unfortunately, they do not seem to listen to me very well.  That is why
Joselyn did not meet you in the bailey, in fact; I allowed Rem and Ashton near
the mud puddles and, well….”

Toby shook her head, laughing at
his sheepishness. “Do not feel so badly,” she told him. “Kenneth is the same
way with his boys and I never thought I’d see the day when the mighty Earl of
Wrexham would lose control of any man.”

Stephen grinned, thinking of
Kenneth, having gained an earldom by marriage, and his two blond-headed sons,
Brennan and Evan. “Aye, but the difference is that his boys are polite and well
behaved and he need not worry.  I fear I am raising a pack of wild animals.”

“Do you not remember how Dylan
and Alex were at that age?” Toby reminded him. “Though they are no longer
uncontrollable, they still get into mischief. I cannot tell you of the
countless missives Tate receives from Kenilworth on the subject.  All he asks
is that they not beat the boys; other than that, the punishment is up to the
knights.”

Stephen shrugged in agreement,
knowing he would probably be facing the same thing with Rem. As if on cue, his
eldest suddenly bolted from the keep, racing down the stairs as much as his
baby legs would allow as Joselyn suddenly appeared behind him.  She admonished
him to be careful as she held Ashton’s hand, helping the little girl down. 
Toby and Stephen watched as Rem ran right for his playmate, Dane, and promptly
shoved him into the mud.  The boys began tussling and Joselyn moved to intervene
before she ever said a word of greeting to her guests. But she waved at Toby
apologetically and Toby laughed.

“Do you remember those years ago
at Cartingdon when I first met you and Tate and Kenneth?” she asked softly.

Stephen nodded, thinking back. 
It was eleven years ago but seemed like a lifetime ago.  “Aye,” he replied. “I
remember entering the church in Cartingdon and watching you argue with your
father in front of the townsfolk because he wanted to support young Edward’s
fight against Mortimer and you did not want to get involved. I remember
thinking what Tate was thinking; that you were the most beautiful woman I’d
ever seen but with insufferable manners.”