Gem of Gravane (The Northern Knights)

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~

     
A
ric 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.