Borderland Betrayal Read online

  Jupiter Gardens Romance, an imprint of Jupiter Gardens Press, publishes romance novels where the relationship is primary. It doesn’t matter if you want to read super erotic or sweet inspirational books. Jupiter Gardens Romance believes that love is a beautiful thing, no matter what form it takes.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Permission is granted to make ONE backup copy for archival purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  BORDERLAND BETRAYAL

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright © Samantha Holt, 2014

  Cover Art ® 2014 by VALERIE TIBBS

  BIN# JGPI2014060-SH5

  Electronic Publication Date: March 2014

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Jupiter Gardens Press, Jupiter Gardens, LLC

  For more information to learn to more about this, or any other author’s work, please visit http://www.jupitergardenspress.com

  Borderland Betrayal

  Samantha Holt

  CHAPTER ONE

  Northumbria, England 1370

  James swirled his ale around his cup, eyeing it with distaste. He cast his gaze about the alehouse and grimaced. In an attempt to gain peace in a place where his face was not known, he’d resorted to seeking out an inn on the outskirts of Durham, far from the busy lodgings in which he was staying.

  Draining his ale, he motioned to a serving girl for another. Aye, this inn did not have decent drink as The Rose and Crown did, but no one knew him as the Captain of Thornewall here. The rough patrons suited the dilapidated state of the alehouse, but at least they left him alone.

  He allowed his gaze to follow the movements of two peasants as they staggered out the door, letting a waft of fresh air cut through the stale, sweat-tinged odour of the building.

  Curse the idiot criminal who thought he could hide out in Thornewall. Escorting the thief back to the sheriff had taken him away from his duties, and James did not relish leaving the castle in the hands of Lucy, his lord’s young bride, who now carried Dominic’s babe.

  Grin hidden behind his cup, he conceded that if anyone could run a keep as vast as Thornewall while her husband toured the lands, it was Lucy. The Lady had proved her worth time and again.

  The battered wooden door swung open once more with a thud and James glanced up as a woman in a drab brown gown and apron wove through the long tables, carefully skirting the sprawled legs and groping hands. James straightened as he studied her. She carried herself with surprising grace, and his breath caught as her gaze settled briefly on him, interest sparking in her expression.

  With her long brown hair caught in a messy braid and that plain gown, it would have been easy to dismiss her as her nothing more than a wench, but one glimpse of her face made his blood simmer. Her strong features and exotic dark skin were far from the pale, delicate looks of the noble women he knew, but underneath the peasant-girl appearance was a face that could start wars.

  Sensual lips quirked into a smile as she bent and spoke with a grizzled old man. Murky smoke from the tallow candles swirled as she breezed around the crowded inn. All eyes remained on her as she tugged something out of her apron. She grinned as she approached the nearest table, leaning over and fluttering her eyelashes at the men as she inserted herself between them. Over the din of raucous laughter and leering shouts, James just made out her voice as she offered the men love potions. A hint of a lilt in her tone told him she was not native to England. Spanish perhaps.

  She slapped at the errant hands of the men as she pressed little fabric parcels into their palms and took their coin with a wide smile. James watched closely. As much as she seemed to have the men under control, she would be no match for any of the drunkards if they decided to push themselves upon her. His hand flexed over the pommel of his sword. His mouth thinned as he noted the movement of her hands while she seduced them with her charms.

  A thief.

  God’s blood, the woman was a thief. As she distracted the patrons with her looks and potions, she snaked a hand into their coin bags. James shook his head to himself. Suddenly she did not seem so enticing. Dishonesty made his stomach curdle.

  The woman secured her gaze on him as she rose from the table and made her way over, her hips swaying. James scowled. Her every movement held all the men captive, including him, in spite of his disgust. As she settled on the bench next to him, he gritted his teeth and studied his ale, determined to ignore her disturbing presence.

  “Sir Knight.” Her voice was smooth and flowing, with just the faintest hint of an accent. Spanish, for certain. Yet her words were as well-spoken as an educated lass. “Does a woman put that scowl on your face? Mayhap you would like a love potion? Your beautiful lady will likely fall head over heels for you with but a drop of my herbs in her wine. Or mayhap you would prefer her to fall into your bed. I have potions for that too, though I suspect a man like you has little trouble with such matters.”

  Giving into curiosity, James met her teasing gaze and studied the woman properly. Her long straight nose, expressive dark eyes and high cheekbones instantly captivated him. Her lips were pale against her skin and even when curved into a grin they remained full and succulent. Aye, certainly her looks were worth fighting for. A pity her soul was wanting.

  Though tempted to ignore her, he wondered if he could not teach her a lesson. A lesson from him would be far better than one from any other man. He did not find pleasure in the thought of her put in the stocks or worse.

  “Aye, I shall take some of your herbs.”

  Her smile widened, revealing a set of pretty teeth. Extremely uncommon in a peasant girl. Who was this woman?

  “And which herbs would those be, good sir? For bed or for marriage?”

  “Whichever, I care not.”

  “You care not whether you bed or marry her? She cannot be a special woman. Or mayhap you take delight in tormenting a woman so. Mayhap you are already married and take joy in women falling desperately in love with you.”

  James let his glower deepen and he extended a hand. “Are you here to sell me your herbs, lass, or question my morals?”

  “My, you shall need these herbs with that scowl. I have never met a knight with such rough manners.”

  “And I have never met a lass with such a candid tongue.”

  “‘Tis time you did then. Here, you shall have these. I will not reveal which I have given you. You shall find out for yourself when you administer them.”

  The woman slipped a small packet into his hand and forced his fingers to close about it as if it were some sacred potion rather than a mix of likely useless herbs. Though rough, her fingertips glided over his hand, creating a simmering sensation under his skin.

  Mimicking her, he pulled a coin from his money pouch and snatched at her wrist. She sucked in a breath and observed avidly as he pressed the coin into her palm. Her eyes lit but he couldn’t be sure if it was the coin or the touch of his hand that did it. Enfolding her fingers around the coin, the desire to bring those fingers to his lips struck and he dropped her hand abruptly.

  A disturbance broke out nearby and James instinctively thrust an arm in front of her as the two men crashed into a table and sprawled on the floor. He a
lmost missed the tug on his belt as the woman’s intrepid fingers delved into his money pouch. Had he been inebriated, he doubted he would have noticed.

  As the two fighting men were shoved out of the building by the burly innkeeper, James snatched her wrist and yanked it from his bag. She gave a slight cry and her eyes widened in alarm as he held her hand out in front of him, a coin clearly clasped between her fingers.

  “I think that mayhap I cannot afford the cost of your herbs, lass. Here I did not realise they would cost me all of my coin.”

  “P-pray,” she tugged away from him but James tightened his grip, “forgive me, sir. I had no intention of…”

  “Robbing me?”

  “Nay! Nay…I am desperate. Pray, my lord, I shall cause no trouble again, I swear it. Just release me and I shall hand you back your coin.”

  James plucked the coin from her fingers and slid it safely into his leather pouch. Her reaction appeared to be one of genuine fright, not something he expected from a seasoned thief. In his experience, they usually attempted to worm their way out of trouble using quick tongues and even quicker movements. The lass had a quick tongue to be sure, but it seemed she had lost the use of it.

  “My lord, I beg of you…” She wriggled against his hold.

  “Calm down, lass. I’ll not see you punished but I trust you will not thieve again.”

  “I will not,” she promised breathlessly. “I am not a bad woman, pray believe that.”

  A shadow fell across the table and James glanced up to see the innkeeper bearing down upon them.

  “Ellise, ‘tis ye? Ye are leaving me patrons barren of coin?”

  “Oh nay,” she forced a giggle, “we are just sharing a jest, Rob. I am no thief.”

  Rob’s brows rose and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is this true, sir? Ye be jesting?”

  James gently released Ellise’s wrist and nodded. “Aye, just a jest.”

  The innkeeper snapped his head round as a man from across the room shouted, “Hey, me coin! Some little thief has been at me coin! Rob, ye’ve got a wretched thief in yer midst. I’ll see ‘em hanged, if I catch ‘em.”

  Rob’s nostrils flared, his jaw tense as he motioned hastily to a serving wench. “See that Tom has his fill of ale for free this night.” Seeing the other man’s dissatisfied expression, Rob waved a hand to the man. “Ye’d have lost all yer coin on ale this night anyway. Ye cannot complain surely?” His gaze darkened as he turned his attention to Ellise and James curled a hand around his sword. “Ye, girl, will be leaving now. I’ll not have a thief driving away my patrons. Grab yer belongings and be gone with ye or I’ll take ye to the sheriff.”

  “Where shall I go?” Her voice wavered and James’ heart panged with remorse.

  “Away from here. Now,” Rob barked before pushing his way back past the customers and slamming through the rear door.

  James grimaced as he glanced at Ellise. Hell’s teeth, he hadn’t meant for the lass to lose her lodgings. He’d only meant to teach her the error of her ways. This was the last time he’d take the moral high ground.

  “Forgive me,” he went to put a hand to her, “I intended not—”

  Ellise leaped away, coming to her feet and stumbling over the bench in her haste to escape him. “It matters not what you intended. You sought to punish me and now you have. I hope it has brought you satisfaction.”

  With this, she spun on her heel and raced through the back door. James cursed and slammed his palm on the rough table. He cursed again. This eve had gone from bad to worse.

  ~***~

  Arms wrapped around herself, Ellise kicked a pebble and cursed under her breath. Having gathered what few belongings she had, she left the inn through the rear courtyard, unwilling to face the knight who discovered her.

  Wretched man. Why could he not have let her be? She should have known better than to approach him, but he enticed her with his handsome looks and serious brow. A small flicker of guilt teased at her and she tamped it down. She took no pleasure in thieving but she needed the coin. Desperately.

  A man who looked like an angel caught her stealing. Ellise snorted. Of course, should she have expected any less? Still, she would not be cowed by events. As soon as she’d found somewhere else to live, she would figure out another way of earning money. Mayhap she could work in one of the townhouses or even as a seamstress. She shook her head. Nay, her sewing skills were severely lacking.

  Ellise shivered, despite the balmy summer evening. The few torches in the street had long since been snuffed out and large buildings loomed over her, their uneven white walls glowing in the moonlight. Alleyways threaded their way between the houses and Ellise eyed them warily. Danger lurked in every corner at night. She touched the small knife in her apron, assuring herself it was still there.

  Where should she go? With little coin and her ragged appearance, none of the finer inns would take her in. Her only hope would be to sneak into a stable for the night or else she’d be left on the street.

  A movement in the shadows caught her attention and she slipped a hand into her apron, clasping around the wooden handle of the blade. A scrawny man scurried into her path, swiftly followed by three others and Ellise blew out a breath. “Adam, ‘tis you? You drunken fool, lurking about in shadows. You scared the wits from me.”

  Adam peered at her—through an inebriated haze probably—and grinned as he recognised her. “Ellise? Lovely lass, what ye be doing out at night? Should ye not be tucked up in bed? Or mayhap ye wish to join me in mine?”

  Allowing her eyebrows to rise, Ellise skimmed her gaze over the man. A far cry from the handsome knight and certainly not her type. “Even if you were not married, you know I’d not be joining you.”

  “Oh, ye pretend to be virtuous but we know ye are not. Witches bed many a man, do they not?”

  Stomach flipping, she straightened her expression. Even if Adam was jesting, she did not find it amusing. Such words could get her killed. And they certainly would if anyone found out the truth about her. “You’d best be getting back to your wife, Adam. Before she misses you and gives you a scolding.” Head high, Ellise sidled past the men as they laughed at their friend’s affronted expression.

  “Ellise!” someone called after her and she picked up her pace.

  Adam would cause no hassle, he was too fearful of his wife, but she did not recognise the other men and was reluctant to find out if they were in the mood for trouble. Flicking a peek over her shoulder, she grimaced as the men clutched at their crotches and made lewd gestures. Lord above, they were drunk. Ellise hurried away, unwilling to listen to any more of their insults, only slowing when their shouts faded into the night.

  Bent double, she sucked in a few breaths and glanced around. Que Dios me ayude! God help her, now she was lost. The town’s streets wound like vines between the cluttered houses and, in the dark, she had little idea where she was. Durham had only been her home for a few weeks. If she continued through the alleyways she would either end up in danger or even more lost.

  Male voices forced her straight and a small flutter of panic resided in her stomach. She needed to get out of sight, and fast. A she scurried around the corner, her foot slipped in the deep grove caused by the carts and a sharp stab of pain speared through her ankle. Ellise fell to the ground with a cry, the dry dirt hurting her palms as she tried to brace herself.

  She glanced around and sat up. Curse her clumsiness! Sliding up her skirts, she inspected her foot. She was unable to see the damage clearly in the darkness but it hurt. How was it she saw so many things in her visions but never anything that directly affected her?

  She shuddered as Adam’s words echoed through her mind. Witch. Aye, it was time to move on again. If anyone found out about her dreams, she would be burned at the stake before long.

  Horse hooves sounded, drowning out the sound of approaching voices and Ellise tried to force herself up but her ankle gave way and she tumbled back to the ground, throat tight with fear. The animal approac
hed but before she could glance up at the rider, a hand curled around her arm and hauled her into the saddle. The rider held her firmly, coaxing her into position in front of him before she’d even registered what happened.

  “Good eve to you, Ellise.”

  The press of leather mail against her back made her breath hitch and she turned to glimpse him out of the corner of her eye. Even though she’d recognised his voice, the sight of him still surprised her. Aye, an angel in disguise. The knight’s golden hair gleamed in the night illumination, short with a slight curl to it, and his chiselled jawline bore a little stubble in the same shade. Underneath the facial hair, a dimple in his chin begged for the touch of her finger and she fisted her hand under her apron.

  Strong arms surrounded her, cocooning her in an all too reassuring shield of masculinity. With a flick of his reins, he coaxed his mount into a trot, making Ellise start and clutch at his forearms. It had been too long since she’d last ridden.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she gently released her grip on his arms, the heat of his skin through the linen shirt lingering on her fingertips. He wore no chainmail, only his leather plates, and Ellise thought it brash of him to be so unconcerned with his safety. Big towns were dangerous for noblemen, and she had no doubt her rescuer was a rich man. His well-crafted sword and large horse spoke of wealth.

  “Rescuing you, I think.”

  Ellise blinked, having almost forgotten her question. “Aye, well, you have rescued me now and you have my thanks. You may release me.”

  “And where shall you go, Ellise?” The way he whispered her name made her shudder, as he made no attempt to let her go.

  “I know not. But that is not your problem. You showed little concern for my welfare at the inn, why should you care now?”

  “I am not heartless. I suggest you be quiet for the journey or I may be tempted to throw you back where I found you.”

  Ellise tried to scowl but a chuckle forced its way from her lips. “Ah, knight, you have a most persuasive tongue. Yet am I likely to end in even more trouble should I stay in your arms?”