The Heir
A Medieval Romance
Book Two of The King’s Cousins Series
By Alexa Aston
Copyright © 2019 by Alexa Aston
Kindle Edition
Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Books from Dragonblade Publishing
Dangerous Lords Series by Maggi Andersen
The Baron’s Betrothal
Seducing the Earl
The Viscount’s Widowed Lady
Governess to the Duke’s Heir
Also from Maggi Andersen
The Marquess Meets His Match
Knights of Honor Series by Alexa Aston
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
The King’s Cousins Series by Alexa Aston
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Beastly Lords Series by Sydney Jane Baily
Lord Despair
Lord Anguish
Legends of Love Series by Avril Borthiry
The Wishing Well
Isolated Hearts
Sentinel
The Lost Lords Series by Chasity Bowlin
The Lost Lord of Castle Black
The Vanishing of Lord Vale
The Missing Marquess of Althorn
The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh
The Mystery of Miss Mason
The Awakening of Lord Ambrose
By Elizabeth Ellen Carter
Captive of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series
Revenge of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series
Shadow of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series
Dark Heart
Live and Let Spy, King’s Rogues Series
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Desire’s Fury
Passion’s Fury
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Books from Dragonblade Publishing
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Bastard
About the Author
Prologue
Blackstone Castle, Sussex—1325
Adelard de Blays watched his seven-year-old son slip out the postern gate at the rear of Blackstone Castle. Quill took a few steps and then looked over his shoulder, unsure if he should continue.
“Go ahead, Son,” the earl encouraged, his heart breaking, knowing it was the last time he would see the boy.
Quill ran back and hugged him tightly. “I don’t want to go,” he said, his voice quivering.
“You must. I told you why. Go,” he ordered. “Now. Before it’s too late.” The nobleman’s voice cracked on the last word.
His oldest child gave him a long look. “I won’t forget you, Father. Ever.” Quill released his grip and hurried away.
“Goodbye,” Adelard said softly as darkness gobbled up the boy all of Blackwell knew as his bastard.
Now, he must do what he could for his other two children before the royal troops arrived to whisk him away to the Tower.
Adelard picked up the lantern and hurried back to the keep. Landon and Katelyn would be in bed now, probably begging Sybil to tell them one more story before she blew out the candle and urged them to sleep. At least she had been a good mother to his other two children, though she’d done everything in her power to make Quill’s life unhappy. Still, he owed it to his countess to warn her of his impending arrest.
As he made his way across the empty bailey, Adelard’s thoughts turned to Cecily—his true wife. He had loved Cecily Elyot with every breath he took. Each time they’d coupled sent him to the heavens and beyond. He’d been ready to bring his bride to Blackstone Castle when his father’s missive arrived in London, informing Adelard of his oldest brother’s untimely death. As a third son, Adelard had been quiet and submissive any time he was in the presence of his father. The title and lands would never be his and so he kept his head down and stayed out of sight
as much as possible, a shadow in the background who avoided his father’s ire.
The missive changed everything.
By the time Adelard arrived at his family’s estate, he found the castle’s occupants in mourning for not one but two sons. Bardolf, the earl’s heir, had died from a sudden fever, which had swept through Blackwell lands and taken a dozen other lives at the castle. Gunter, the middle son, had died in a fall from his horse, the result of a foolish bet accepted while he was too drunk to know any better. Their steward had told Adelard that Gunter had drowned his sorrows from his brother’s death in drink. Knowing how close his brothers were to one another, he had wondered if Gunter died on purpose.
And so, Adelard, by default, had become his father’s heir.
Immediately, the earl announced that Adelard would wed Sybil, Bardolf’s betrothed. The couple would have married in a month’s time. With a few adjustments to the betrothal contracts, Adelard’s name replaced his brother’s. He had no experience in standing up to his father and had obediently gone ahead with the nuptial mass, sick with dread and worry. Shame filled him as he pledged before God Almighty and all gathered to bind himself in holy wedlock to a woman he had never met—thus abandoning his one true love and wedded wife.
Adelard entered the keep, passing the great hall where many had bedded down for the night. He ascended the steep stone steps and paused before the children’s bedchamber. His heart racing, he pushed the door open. As he’d expected, Sybil sat next to Katelyn’s bed. His false wife looked like a Madonna.
And was the Devil Incarnate.
Sybil de Blays had made his life miserable from the moment Adelard brought Quill home to Blackwell. In some ways, she was more intimidating than his father had ever been. The earl succumbed to apoplexy a mere week after Adelard and Sybil wed. If only he’d been strong and stood up to his father. Told him that he already had a wife he’d gotten with child. It might have made all the difference—then and now.
Regret washed over him anew as he ignored Sybil and moved toward the bed where his daughter slept. Katelyn’s dark lashes stood out against her pale skin. Adelard brushed a lock of raven hair from the five-year-old girl’s face and then kissed her cheek. He ached, knowing he would never see her beauty blossom, nor see his grandchild in her arms.
Katelyn stirred and blinked. “Father?” Her green eyes lit up.
Of his three children, he favored her most because of her spirit and zest for life. Ever curious, she followed her brothers about and demanded to do everything they did—and usually succeeded.
Adelard bent and kissed her brow. “Go to sleep, my little love.”
“Can we go riding tomorrow?” she asked, her eyelids already beginning to droop again.
“Aye,” he said, knowing for him there would be no more tomorrows.
“Good,” she murmured and grew still. Her small rosebud mouth parted slightly as her breathing became even.
Tucking the bedclothes around her, he looked to the empty bed next to Katelyn’s.
“Where is Landon?” he asked his wife softly.
Sybil eyed him with suspicion. “He went downstairs to retrieve his sword. He left it in the great hall. You know how he takes it everywhere with him. I could not get him to climb into bed unless I allowed him to fetch it.”
Adelard knew his time drew short and he still wanted to see his boy but he said to Sybil, “I’ve done something terrible. At least, that’s what others will say. You and the children will be the ones to suffer for it.”
Her brows shot up and he saw the hatred for him glittering in her dark eyes.
Before she could deride him, he said, “I won’t tell you what. The less you know, the better it might go for you. Just know that the king’s men are coming for me. They will be here shortly. Do your best to guard the children.”
Adelard wanted to slap the satisfied look from her face. Knowing Sybil, she would be like a cat and land on her feet, even if it used up one of her nine lives. He only prayed to the Blessed Virgin that she wouldn’t sacrifice Landon or Katelyn while trying to save herself.
“Farewell,” he said. “I am sorry I was not a better husband to you—but, in fact, I was no husband at all.”
He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes with his parting blow.
“What?” she hissed.
“No one knows, except for Walter,” Adelard said, a calm descending upon him as he finally spoke the truth in their last moments together. “He witnessed my marriage to Cecily Elyot in London. Quill is my legal son. Landon and Katelyn are the bastards.”
Sybil sprang from her chair and slapped him hard. Before he uttered another word, she raked her claws across his stinging cheek. Adelard grabbed both of her wrists.
“Enough,” he said harshly. “I know you will do what it takes to shield our children. No one need ever know.”
Her eyes blazed at him. “And your . . . other son?”
“Gone. You’ll never find him.”
With that, Adelard released her and strode from the room. He hurried down the dimly lit corridor, his heart racing at having finally told Sybil the truth. Returning downstairs, he spied Landon swinging his wooden sword just outside the great hall and stopped to watch him. Already, the boy had an athleticism and grace, moving as one with his toy weapon. Sadness and regret filled him, knowing he would not see this strong, sturdy boy grow to manhood.
Adelard grabbed his son, one he loved as much as his firstborn, and held him close as tears filled his eyes. His actions would cost this boy his earldom and all the Blackwell lands. He released Landon and then knelt, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders and squeezing tightly. Landon winced and tried to pull away, but Adelard held firm.
“You will hear many things about me in the coming years. Some of it even true. But whatever else, there’s only one thing you need to remember to the end of your days. I loved you with my last breath.”
Landon smiled. “I love you, too, Father.” Adoration was plainly written on his youthful face.
“Look after your sister,” Adelard urged and then tightened his grip. “And whatever happens, don’t tell them about your brother. Ever.”
“I promise. I’ll never tell, Father. Never.”
He withdrew the ruby brooch he’d taken from Sybil’s box of jewels and placed it in his son’s palm. Shaped as a dragon, it reminded Adelard of the stories his grandfather used to tell him about his pirate days on board Dragonstar. The brooch had been Godwin’s wedding gift to Melisent, Adelard’s grandmother. How he’d loved his grandparents and missed them every day since they’d passed over a score ago.
“Take this,” he instructed. “Keep it safe always. When the time comes, give it to the woman you love.”
The door to the keep slammed open and the king’s men marched in. Adelard kissed the top of Landon’s head and rose, a hand still on his son’s shoulder. Someone bellowed out orders as soldiers dispersed in every direction, flooding the great hall and racing up the steps. Two knights latched on to Adelard and tore him from Landon.
As they dragged him away and a representative of the king announced the charges against him, Adelard risked a last look over his shoulder.
Landon stood in the midst of the chaos, tears running down his cheeks. His son raised his toy sword high in a final salute. Adelard acknowledged the gesture with a nod and then turned away.
Chapter One
Landon huddled in a corner of the king’s rooms, making himself as small as possible. He hoped the monarch would stay gone for the rest of the day. He’d heard one of the servants say the king and Despenser went hunting. If so, that would give him hours to be left in peace.
He’d been at the royal court four days now but it seemed like a lifetime. The soldiers who’d invaded Blackstone Castle had taken him and his father with them. He hadn’t been allowed to tell his mother farewell. Even now, Landon wondered what had happened to her and Katelyn.
And Quill.
Adelard de Blays’ last words had
warned his son never to mention his half-brother. Landon would keep his promise. If the king and his men treated Landon this poorly, he couldn’t imagine what they would do to a bastard son.
That seemed like such an ugly word for such a good boy. Quill was not only Landon’s half-brother but his closest friend. Quill had a generous nature and shared anything he had freely with Landon and also Katelyn, when she accompanied them about the estate. Quill was kind and patient. Everyone liked him. Except for Landon’s mother. She never allowed Landon to even speak Quill’s name aloud. He understood that, somehow, his father had lain with another woman before his marriage and Quill was the result. It still didn’t make sense to Landon why his mother would hate Quill so much. When they were together, he made sure they stayed out of her way to avoid her wrath.
He missed his little sister more than he could have imagined. Katelyn followed him and Quill wherever they went. At times, Landon might hesitate trying something, whether it was making his horse run faster or jumping across a narrow portion of a brook. Katelyn proved fearless, no matter what the circumstance, and would bravely plunge ahead. He could keep his silence about Quill but he didn’t have a clue how he could protect Katelyn when he didn’t even know what had happened to her.
Landon did know what would happen to his father. The earl had done something terrible to offend the king—and Hugh Despenser. The man was always in the king’s company, eating with him and telling him stories. Landon didn’t like Despenser and the feeling was mutual. He’d humiliated Landon each day in ways small and large. It was why Landon now hovered in a corner. He hoped when the king returned with Despenser that neither of them would see him.
He wasn’t allowed to leave. He’d been told to stay. That they would soon decide what to do with him. Twice a day, a servant would take him to the garderobe so he could empty his bladder. Other than that, he had to remain where he was. They had given him something to wear since he’d been in his bedclothes when he arrived. They were filthy after the journey from Sussex to London.
Landon had caught a glimpse of his father after they’d passed through the city gates. Adelard de Blays was bound hand and foot and tied to a horse. He couldn’t see his father’s face and was glad. The knight Landon rode with had pointed to the earl and told Landon the next time he saw his father, de Blays would be a headless, disemboweled corpse. He hadn’t known exactly what disemboweled meant but he knew it couldn’t be good. Inside, he said prayers to the Blessed Virgin that death would come swiftly. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the man he worshipped suffer.