A Winter's Knight Read online

  A Winter’s Knight

  By

  Fiona Neal

  Copyright 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to people, places, or events are coincidental.

  Other Books by Fiona Neal

  The Maple Grove Series Contemporary Romances

  Mr. Right in her Back Yard—Book I

  Unfinished Business—Book II

  Flashpoint—Book III—Romantic Suspense

  Her honor, The Mayor Book IV—Romantic Suspense

  Other Contemporary Romances

  More than Just Friends

  A Passion for Roses

  A Prescription for Love

  A Reunion in Maine

  The Bad Boy

  Just for Tonight

  Crazy for You

  Historical Novels

  The Flame on the Moor—Scottish Historical

  Seducing Brody MacKay—Scottish Historical

  Lady Claire’s Cavalier

  The Mist Rider—Scottish Historical

  The Saxon Rose—Medieval

  The White Rose of Saxonhurst—Medieval

  Paranormal Novels

  Return from Camelot—Time Travel

  Master of Mist Mere—Time Travel

  Premonition—Time Travel

  Fantasies

  Gaelic Magic

  Beauty and the Beast

  Science Fiction

  Heart of a Star Raider-Futuristic

  Chapter One

  England 1154

  “You will kill the Lady Alice De Winter in whatever manner you choose,” Lord Camden said blandly, sitting in his chair by the fire in one of the Camden Castle’s small rooms. “But you will murder her...in whatever manner you so choose. That is the price I shall charge for letting your sister, the Lady Edith Moreton, go free.”

  Sir Edmund Moreton could hardly believe what he had just heard. He stared at the dark-haired Lord Camden who smiled sardonically, the scar deeply cutting the man’s left cheek and making him look even more sinister.

  Was this some joke? Every knight had taken solemn vows to protect women. He couldn’t kill a woman in cold blood. The outright and unlawful slaying of an innocent person constituted a grave act that went contrary to everything Lord Edmund believed and to which he adhered—most religiously. The foul deed also condemned his soul to damnation for all eternity. That frightening thought made him swallow hard, and a cold sweat bathed his body.

  Edmund had to admit he had been puzzled to see no one around the flamboyant lord. Camden liked pageantry. He usually had a great number of people near him. Now, there was no one but the great lord and him.

  Still, the planning of a deliberate, criminal homicide, especially one of a noble lady, needed complete secrecy.

  Lord Camden leaned forward, his dark gaze piercing through Edmund like the sharpest of blades. “I trust you heard my command, Sir Edmund.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Sir Edmund stood rigid. “May I ask why you wish the woman dead?”

  “That is really none of your business, but I shall tell you,” Camden said. “The Lady Alice is now the heiress to the De Winter Castle and all of that great estate.”

  “But Lady Alice has gone to the abbey to become a nun,” Edmund explained. “I do not believe she is interested in the castle or the estate. She plans to take the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Furthermore, I’ve only seen her at a great distance and just once. I doubt I should recognize her.”

  “If you ask to see her, the abbess will allow it,” Lord Camden assured him. “Besides, her grandfather, Lord De Winter, is old. The girl is his only heir, now that his sons and grandchildren are dead; a fact you know. His estate is an ancient one. It is not subject to the line of the primogenitor. Lady Alice will inherit. I have wanted that estate for years. When the lady is dead, I shall petition King Stephen for the property. I plan to say De Winter is not capable of administering it. He is a frail man.”

  Lord Camden continued, “Furthermore, I have it on good authority that De Winter will order his granddaughter to come from the convent. He will ask you to go to get her and bring her home. After all, you are the De Winter Knight, as they call you, because you are known to be so faithful to your lord. No one will ever suspect you, Sir Edmund.”

  Still shocked, Edmund gazed into the blazing fire. A knight should be faithful to his lord. He had vowed his loyalty, and Lord De Winter had been his foster. He had spent years at De Winter Castle.

  Oh, this was a foul deep of betrayal to Lord De Winter.

  Furthermore, Edmund was a third son. It was unlikely he would ever inherit the Moreton lands, and Lord De Winter had employed him.

  The flaming fire leapt, eerily illuminating the small room now darkened by the late autumn gloom, adding to the frightening atmosphere.

  Dear God, how could he kill his liege lord’s granddaughter? Lady Alice De Winter was certainly not the enemy.

  But now, Lord Camden continued to peer at him, waiting for an answer. What could he do? If Edmund refused, Camden would annihilate his young, innocent sixteen-year-old sister. He knew it—sensed it with every fiber of his body—as he felt the evil of this situation permeating this unnerving place.

  How could Camden do this? Until now, everyone had thought he was Lord De Winter’s best friend. Edmund had quickly responded to the invitation to come here. He believed that Lord Camden wanted to arrange some pleasant surprise for the old man after he had lost his family—with the exception of Lady Alice.

  Edmund loved Lord De Winter. He thought of him as a second father.

  Edmund gazed down, staring at the flagstones of the floor. He felt trapped and flabbergasted. He had a choice. Yes, one always had a choice. Still, no matter which way he opted, a woman would die—one of them was Edith, his dear sister, whom he loved so dearly.

  The other woman was a young, devout person who had done no wrong and wanted to become a Benedictine sister. At this moment, she resided quietly at an abbey, waiting to become a postulant in the Benedictine order of nuns.

  “I am waiting for your answer, Sir Edmund.” Lord Camden stared at him, malice in his sardonic smile and coal black eyes.

  “I shall do what you wish, Lord Camden, but what assurances do I have that you will release my sister?”

  “You have my word,” Camden replied. His tone, and the expression on the fierce lord's face was one of incredulity—as if he could not believe Edmund would question the veracity of the statement.

  The word of a liar and a traitor to his friend, Edmund deduced. Camden was a man who ordered the death of a young, blameless woman. The scoundrel also held another innocent female for ransom. Camden’s word did not amount to much.

  In fact, it amounted to nothing—absolutely nothing.

  “Very well, my lord, I shall kill the Lady Alice,” Edmund answered, thinking of the sweet Edith. He had to save his sister. He loved her dearly.

  A mordant smile spread Camden’s thin lips. “I shall need proof of the death.”

  “You will have it, my lord,” Edmund told him. What he would take to prove the woman’s death, he didn’t know. But he just had to escape this room, this castle, and this most evil man. He felt so appalled his stomach roiled, nauseating him, but he swallowed hard, fighting the urge to empty his stomach.

  “Go now, and do what you must, and do not fail.” With a flick of his hand, Camden waved Edmund away.

  Edmund bowed and backed out of the room, glad to be away from the sinister place—and Lord Camden—the most wicked man he ever knew.

  His heart and mind in a tumult of confusion, he paused at the top of the stone steps leading to the entrance of the castle. Edmund wondered how he would get out of this hideous dilemma.

  He was a battle-hardened warrio
r. He had killed on the battle field; but mostly, he had taken his prisoners as hostages, and received payment for them. Edmund hated violence. Being a knight had not been his choice, but he had to do as his father had dictated.

  A servant stood by Edmund horse, and the troubled knight mounted. He rode away from Camden Castle, hoping never to see the place again, although unfortunately, he would. Camberton Castle was about five miles from De Winter Castle.

  Edmund was still astounded at what he must do. He would have to kill an innocent woman to save his young sister.

  But I have never committed the cold, premeditated murder—the vile slaying of a blameless, devout lady at that. Dear God, please help me out of this quagmire of unlawful acts and vile sin. I have no wish to hurt Lady Alice. I have not wish to hurt anyone.

  * * * *

  Responding to a summons, Edmund faced Lord De Winter the next day.

  The large room, heated with a commodious fireplace, emanated a comfortable amount of warmth. The pale autumn sunlight streamed through the colorful stained glass windows. The space was so different from the one in which Lord Camden had presided yesterday. This area did not hide dark secrets or nefarious plots.

  The old lord still appeared fragile after his illness, suffering from the malady that had killed his entire family, save for Lady Alice. The sickness had almost sent him to the grave. Still, he smiled and stood.

  He was an older man, his hair almost white, but still, it had some streaks of the famous De Winter red.

  Edmund debated with himself. Should he tell his lord what Camden had in mind? But what would Lord De Winter do? Would the old Lord believe him? Would he get so upset that he would suffer an apoplectic stroke? No, Edmund refused to say anything. He could not risk harming the elderly lord.

  Besides, Camden had Edith in his custody—young, innocent Edith. Edmund had no doubt that Camden would kill her if he didn’t do what the evil lord had ordered, for he had seen a side of that vile man he had never witnessed before. He shivered at the mere notion of such wickedness.

  Edmund would not say a word. This was a problem he would have to solve alone. He dared not breathe a word. Edmund must obey, or Edith would die...unless something miraculous happened.

  But miracles seldom happen, do they?.

  “Sir Edmund,” Lord De Winter said, “I suppose you are wondering why I requested to see you.”

  Edmund didn’t know the exact reason, but he suspected what Camden had told him was true. Lord De Winter would send him to get Lady Alice and return her to her home. Still, he said nothing.

  “I wish you to go to the Abbey of the Holy Mother and bring my granddaughter to me. Of all of my knights, you are the one I trust the most, especially now that my sons are dead. But there is something you must do to keep the girl safe. Now, as she is a wealthy heiress, there will be men who wish to kidnap her and marry her for her money, or hold her for ransom.”

  What Lord De Winter said was all too true. Many men would wish to wed the girl—not for herself—but for her money. Well, most noble families married for money and the consolidation of power, didn't they?

  “Now, this is my plan,” Lord De Winter said.

  * * * *

  “Please wake, Lady Alice!”

  Lady Alice De Winter bolted upright in her narrow bed in the abbey’s guesthouse, where she would stay until she became a postulant in the Benedictine order.

  Startled, Alice stared at the pale face of the old nun. The deep lines of the elderly countenance were emphasized by the light of the sole candle secured in the holder the woman held, Still, the flickering flame broke the stark blackness of night.

  “The abbess is waiting for you in her quarters,” the nun stated quietly. “You must dress and go to her immediately, Lady Alice.”

  “The abbess wishes to see me at this hour, Sister Joan?” Alice gazed incredulously at the old woman.

  “Yes,” the nun replied and gave a single nod.

  Alice rubbed her eyes and peered outside through the glazed window of the guesthouse. The blackness of the night blotted out everything. She could not even see a single star.

  “Why, does the abbess wish to see me at this hour?” Alice asked.

  “I was not informed, my lady, as to the reason,” the nun replied.

  Alice dared not to query further. She had learned after many visits to the convent, for months at a time since she was a child, that it was unwise to questions the motives of the abbess. That authority must be obeyed in all things.

  Still, for what reason should I be disturbed in the wee hours of the morning? It is not yet time for matins, which ends at dawn.

  “Please dress and come to the abbess’s quarters as soon as possible, my lady.” Sister Joan lit the taper Alice had in its metal receptacle on her nightstand with the one the old nun carried in a holder, and said, “I shall leave now.”

  “Thank you, Sister Joan. I shall go as soon as I dress.”

  Obviously, the matter was of great urgency, or the abbess would not have requested Alice’s presence at this early hour—or was it a late hour? Was something amiss at De Winter Castle?

  The thought frightened her. Things could go very wrong at the castle. Alice knew all too well just how terrible awry things could go. She shuddered, just remembering that ghastly incident, which often haunted her.

  No, I cannot contemplate that now. The abbess is waiting for me.

  Besides, she would soon discover the reason her sleep had been interrupted.

  Alice had no lady’s maid to help her here in the convent. She had come to the Benedictine abbey often during her life, but just some months ago she arrived with the intention of joining the religious order.

  Therefore, she stepped into her cold slippers and shivered. She then went to the table where a jug of water and a washbowl stood. Alice broke the ice on the surface of the pitcher and poured the icy liquid into the bowl. She took the nearby cloth and bathed her face and hands, trembling from the frigid temperature, despite the ashes still feebly smoldering in the fireplace.

  The cold seemed like her enemy, always making her tremble. The convent was always freezing, starting in mid-autumn, but Alice must become accustomed to it, for she felt she had a religious vocation.

  Alice also enjoyed the peaceful, prayerful atmosphere and the interesting work of making remedies to alleviate pain and illnesses, for the abbess allowed her to help the sister who kept the apothecary and supervised the nursing of the sick.

  She quickly removed her shift, donned a fresh one, and slipped on a plain brown long woolen vestment, cinching it at the waist with a matching cincture. The clothes felt warm and comforting, as Alice pulled on her stockings and stepped into her shoes, but the garments did not totally dispel the cold.

  As a young unmarried woman, she wore her hair unbound, allowing the bright red tresses to fall to her thighs; but when she became a postulant, her locks would be cut, and a wimple and veil would completely cover her bright hair.

  Alice took the candle holder and opened the heavy wooden door, scrolled with wrought iron hinges, and left her room. Hurrying to the abbess’s chambers, her hand sheltered the meager flame from the icy drafts that would extinguish it.

  The dark cloister leading to the abbess’s quarters reminded Alice of the tenebrous, narrow one of the inner bailey at De Winter Castle.

  The hideous experience she had suffered there flashed into her mind. She tried to fight the thought, but could not dispel it. The horrible memory came rushing into her mind like a raging flood.

  Alice had come out of the chapel at De Winter Castle and walked into the roofed, narrow walkway that was built against the main building of the castle one moonless evening.

  Suddenly, from behind her, what felt like a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Alice lost her footing and dropped her lantern, but strong hands held her up. The glass of the lantern shattered and the candle within extinguished immediately when it hit the moist stones of the walkway.

  She ba
ttled with all her strength for her freedom, but she was no match for the tremendous power that propelled her against the hard stone wall of the building. Still gripping her, the assailant moved to her side.

  “Do not fight, or things will go very ill for you,” a man’s voice menacingly warned her. “I just want a little fun, and it’s always amusing to initiate a virgin, Lady Alice.”

  Alice immediately understood. This rogue meant to defile her! But she could say nothing, nor could she scream for help, for his hand still covered her mouth.

  Oh, God, save me from shame. Deliver me from this mad man.

  He spun her around, but before she had time to scream, his lips clamped down on hers. The smell and taste of alcohol revolted her, and she wanted to vomit. Nevertheless, she was fasting and had not eaten since breakfast, so she could regurgitate nothing. He pulled her even closer, and his hand went to her breast.

  Alice suddenly went extremely rigid, but she stopped fighting.

  “So, you want it,” he said, and she could not miss the ridicule in his voice. “Women always do, although they always pretend otherwise.” He loosened his hold entirely.

  Alice thought about pushing him and running, but suddenly, the man put his hands to his head and staggered back away from her. Her eyes accustomed to the darkness, she saw a surprised expression on his face. Blood gushed from his nose, and he fell backward like a felled tree.

  She heard a stomach-turning thud as his head hit the slates of the floor. Alice gazed at him as he lay on his back. His eyes remained open—but the surprised expression in them had vanished and his orbs were completely bland. She slowly moved toward him. Bending, she felt for a pulse in his wrist. There was none.

  He is dead!

  Trembling hard and gasping for breath, she staggered backward against the wall of the cloister, her hands over her heart. She then ran to the inside of the entrance of the castle’s living quarters. “Help,” she cried. “There is a man lying on the walkway!”

  Servants rushed outside in the rain, and her grandfather came toward her. “What happened, Alice?” he queried.