To Love an English Knight

  To Love an English Knight

  Sherry Ewing

  Text copyright by the Author.

  This work was made possible by special permission through the de Wolfe Pack Connected World publishing program and WolfeBane Publishing, a dba of Dragonblade Publishing. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original World of de Wolfe Pack connected series by Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. remains the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc., or the affiliates or licensors.

  All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted property of the author.

  De Wolfe Pack: The Series

  By Aileen Fish

  The Duke She Left Behind

  By Alexa Aston

  Rise of de Wolfe

  By Amanda Mariel

  Love’s Legacy

  One Wanton Wager

  By Anna Markland

  Hungry Like de Wolfe

  By Ashe Barker

  Wolfeheart

  By Autumn Sand

  Reflections of Love

  Reflections of Time

  By Barbara Devlin

  Lone Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 1

  The Big Bad De Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 2

  Tall, Dark & De Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 3

  By Cathy MacRae

  The Saint

  The Penitent

  The Cursed

  By Celeste Barclay

  A Spy at the Highland Court

  By Christy English

  Dragon Fire

  By Danelle Harmon

  Heart of the Sea Wolfe

  By Emmanuelle de Maupassant

  Master of the Moor

  By Emily E K Murdoch

  Whirlwind with a Wolfe

  By Hildie McQueen

  The Duke’s Fiery Bride

  By Jennifer Siddoway

  De Wolfe in Disguise

  By Kathryn Le Veque

  River’s End

  By Lana Williams

  Trusting the Wolfe

  Ruby’s Gamble

  By Laura Landon

  A Voice on the Wind

  By Leigh Lee

  Of Dreams and Desire

  By Mairi Norris

  Brabanter’s Rose

  By Marlee Meyers

  The Fall of the Black Wolf

  By Mary Lancaster

  Vienna Wolfe

  The Wicked Wolfe

  By Meara Platt

  Nobody’s Angel

  Kiss an Angel

  Bhrodi’s Angel

  By Mia Pride

  The Lone Wolf’s Lass

  The Last Wolfe Lass

  By Michele Lang

  An Honest Woman

  By Rosamund Winchester

  The Defender and the Dove

  By Ruth Kaufman

  My Enemy, My Love

  My Rebel, My Love

  My Rival, My Love

  By Sarah Hegger

  Bad Wolfe on the Rise

  By Scarlett Cole

  Together Again

  By Sherry Ewing

  To Love a Scottish Laird

  To Love an English Knight

  By Tammy Andresen

  To Want a Rogue

  By Victoria Vane

  Breton Wolfe Book 1

  Ivar the Red Book 2

  The Bastard of Brittany Book 3

  By Violetta Rand

  Never Cry de Wolfe

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  De Wolfe Pack: The Series

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books By Sherry Ewing

  Social Media

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Caen, Normandy

  1152

  Lady Freya of Clan MacLaren peaked around the canvas of a tent to watch the English knight as he made his way through the crowd. She had first seen him leaving his own tent just this morn, and on impulse she asked a nearby squire for the knight’s name. Sir Charles de Grey, she had been told, and a small smile had lit her face upon hearing it while she began following him through camp. ’Twas as though all of England and France’s nobility were in attendance considering a small village had been erected overnight.

  At the request of Henry, the Duke of Normandy, her brother Douglas, the laird of the clan, had answered the duke’s summons to attend the celebration of his recent marriage to Duchess Eleanor of Aquitaine. With their home of Berwyck Castle sitting at the border of England and Scotland, Douglas could do no less knowing he must keep peace between himself and the man who would one day be England’s king. Freya had begged her brother to allow her to accompany him, and he had reluctantly agreed. He would be mortified to learn she was following an English knight about camp.

  Heart pounding, she continued to dodge people and other obstacles in her pursuit to stay near Sir Charles. She was unprepared when he suddenly turned as though he felt her presence. She quickly ducked behind another tent in hope he had not caught her following him. She could not say why she was so drawn to this handsome stranger, but he had certainly held her interest from afar. No harm could come from a closer look, could it?

  With her chest heaving at the near thought of being found out, she dared another look around the shelter only to find him gone! She stepped from her hiding place in order to once more continue her search for him. She was unprepared when her arm was taken in a fierce grip. Forced backward against the canvas that had obviously not provided any source of concealment, she stared into the eyes of the very person who had momentarily escaped her. He was taller up close than she expected, for she barely reached to his chest. With his blond hair and vivid, blue eyes, she almost sighed at how handsome he was now that he stood before her. And then he spoke, and her world crashed down around her.

  “Why are you following me?” he asked in an amused tone. Before she could answer, he continued, much to her dismay. “If you are looking for a bit of sport, I do not have time to dally at the moment. Perchance later, although I must admit, you are prettier than most of the wenches who meander about.” He took hold of her chin as though to examine her closer before leaning down to quickly kiss her lips.

  “How dare ye kiss me!” Freya sputtered. Heat flushed her face.

  He began fumbling at a leather pouch upon his belt. Drawing out a coin, he held out the meager offering for her to take. “For your troubles.”

  A gasp escaped her. “Do ye ken who ye are speaking tae?”

  A chuckle escaped him. “Given you have been dodging my every move this morn, I assumed you were one of the women camp followers who earn their way at such events. Was I mistaken?”

  He thought her a whore! His insult stung even as she knew she would never hear the end of Douglas’s tirade if he learned she had been observing the stranger in the first place. Swinging her arm to smack the smirk off his face, he easily caught her hand before pulling her closer. Her breath left her while she tried to think clearly.

  “Perchance I have a moment or two to spare after all.” His grin was pure sin, and he began to tighten his arm around her waist.

  She struggled in his embrace. She would in no way be
d this stranger no matter how handsome he was. She was still a maid and obviously not what he took her for.

  “Ye braying arse! I am Lady Freya of Berwyck,” she shouted. He let go of her so swiftly she stumbled to right herself and not land in the dirt.

  “As in the sister to Laird Douglas of Clan MacLaren?” A look passed across his features showing her that he was not pleased.

  “Aye. I will tell him of yer insult tae me,” she hissed.

  “Tell him anything you like, but for your own sake and mine, stay away from me. I apologize for making the wrong assumption, my lady, but I have had all I can handle from a MacLaren for one day.”

  Freya continued to stare at him while he stomped away. As she watched him go, she was uncertain if she was happy or sad at his leaving. In the months to come, she would wonder if she would ever be able to win his love.

  Chapter One

  Berwyck Castle

  Several months later

  Sir Charles de Grey read the missive he held from Wolverhampton Castle a second time. Disbelief changed to anger, filling his soul that perchance the outcome may have been different had he been with Lady Catherine’s brother and his family. But, nay… he was Catherine’s guardsman, sworn to protect her. He knew his duty to her and what was required of him. She may have been born Catherine de Wolfe, but she was now the lady of Berwyck.

  Knowing the heartbreak this would cause Lady Catherine, Charles knew he must quickly locate her husband so he could reveal the news from the missive. Charles would like nothing better than to crush the parchment beneath his feet than to deliver such horrible news to someone he cared for.

  He gave a heavy sigh as he left the stable area after seeing the runner was sent to the kitchens to fill his belly after his trip. Memories flitted unbidden across his mind, and he shook his head remembering how he had once been in love with Lady Catherine. Aye! ’Twas foolish on his part he knew, but the months he had been at Berwyck had dispelled such feelings. She was happy in her marriage to the Lord of Berwyck. Thankfully, Charles and Douglas fell into a common accord to keep the lady safe at all costs. Her happiness was all that mattered. Charles’s heart would mend one day, or so he supposed.

  As he came into the inner bailey, he saw a flash of fabric as a woman ran behind the healer’s hut. A hint of a grin lit his face. Lady Freya, the laird’s sister, had been a bit of an annoyance when he had first met her while traveling to Caen. When he had first captured the woman who had been following him through camp, he had thought her one of the whores who tended to show up at such events. ’Twas hardly his fault for the mistake.

  Fire had blazed in her blue-green eyes, and for the briefest moment when their lips touched, he was reminded how long it had been since he had a woman beneath him. His fingers had skimmed her brown hair with blonde streaks lightened from the sun. She was beautiful, but at the time, his heart had been clouded by another.

  She had continued to shadow him throughout their time at the tournament and even on their travels to Berwyck last year. He had strange feelings for the young woman who could be no more than a score of years. Considering he had been thrown into Berwyck’s dungeon because of the jealousy she felt toward Lady Catherine, he supposed he could forgive. She was young and sometimes foolish. Charles’s heart had become bitter from the ordeal, and the wound that Catherine loved another was part to blame.

  As he neared the hut, she came around the corner carrying a basket as though she had not a care in the world. Her eyes sparkled when they met his while she hummed a merry tune. But this was no time to tarry with whatever antics she was up to today. He must find Douglas without haste.

  “Sir Charles,” she called out. She offered him a smile, and he gave the briefest nod of his head. “’Tis a lovely morn, is it not?”

  He was momentarily startled by her comment when he looked about at the cloudy sky above. “I suppose if you care for the possibility of rain,” he murmured.

  “I love the rain. ’Tis fun tae dance in. Have ye never tried it?”

  “I have hardly had time for such amusement. Your brother keeps us busy with our training. Once it rains, I am too busy trying to keep upright from slipping in the mud.”

  “Ye should make the effort sometime. Ye might enjoy it as long as ye have the right partner.” She fell into step with him when he continued on his way toward the keep.

  “Ye seem tae be about a matter that is of great urgency.”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?” Her hand fell to his arm, halting his steps.

  “What can I do for you, Lady Freya?” he asked. “As you can see, I am indeed in a hurry. I must find your brother and relay some unfortunate news.”

  The smile left her features, and concern quickly flashed across her eyes. “Whatever is the matter? Are enemies coming tae Berwyck?”

  “Nay. You are safe within the castle’s walls.” He took her elbow and escorted her inside the keep. “You may as well follow me. Lady Catherine will have need of you.”

  “What news have ye received, Charles?” she asked, dropping all formality between them. She tugged on his arm again, causing him to halt.

  “’Tis not my place to tell you before I have discussed the matter with your brother…”

  “…who will tell me all ye know, so ye might as well tell me yerself!” She stomped her foot.

  “You will get no answers from me, little one,” he murmured. Her eyes widened at the endearment he let slip, and he inwardly cursed at his own stupidity.

  “Charles…”

  “Not now, Freya,” he said as he continued through the great hall. “We can continue this conversation once we return from Wolverhampton. I expect we will be leaving as soon as preparations for our travel can be arranged.”

  “Wolverhampton?” she gasped. “The news must indeed be grave. I will go and ready my things.”

  “I am certain your brother will wish for you to remain here where he knows you are safe.”

  “But…”

  “This is no time to argue, Freya. For once, think of someone other than yourself.” Hurt flashed in her eyes at the reprimand. “My apologies, my lady,” he mumbled as they began making their way up the turret steps to Douglas’s solar.

  Freya, for once, remained silent. ’Twas a true testament on how his words had upset the young woman still clinging to his arm.

  They entered the room after a brief knock and the call to enter was heard. Lord Douglas was sitting behind a table perusing parchments before him. Killian, a clan member and friend to Douglas, leaned over to view the documents with his laird. “Is something the matter?” Douglas asked, and Charles handed over the missive.

  Douglas’s brow furrowed upon reading the news it contained before he passed the parchment to Killian so he was also aware of what had happened. “Charles, will ye make arrangements for myself, Catherine, and a suitable amount of guards tae accompany us tae Wolverhampton?”

  “Of course, my lord,” Charles said with a bow.

  “Killian, find my mother and send her to my chamber.”

  “Aye, my laird,” Killian replied with a bow before leaving.

  Douglas stood, setting the missive down upon the table. “I must find Catherine. She will not take this well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned his attention to his sister. “Give me a few moments with Catherine, then come tae our room. She will have need of ye.”

  He quickly left, giving Charles no time to offer his condolences. Freya moved to the table to pick up the missive.

  “Freya, wait!” he called out, reaching for the parchment. She began reading while tears formed in her eyes.

  “Oh, no!” she sobbed before sinking into her brother’s vacant chair. “Is this true?”

  “Aye. Lady Catherine’s brother, Padraig, and his son Patrick, have been killed. Lady Nicola has survived but barely. Their carriage was attacked on the way home from their recent travels,” he said aloud, the grim news like poison in his throat.

  A scream was heard
down the passageway. Charles’s heart bled for what Lady Catherine must now be going through, but ’twas Freya flinging herself into his arms while she cried that was almost Charles’s undoing.

  Chapter Two

  Freya tapped her foot impatiently. Her pleas to accompany Douglas and Catherine had been denied. She had pressed her brother to change his mind saying Catherine would need the support of a woman during her journey to Wolverhampton. He told Freya that Winifred, Catherine’s lady in waiting, would be attending his wife.

  Even Freya’s mother had told her ’twould be safer for Freya to remain at Berwyck. She had still pressed them to see her point. But Douglas was a stubborn lout and would not see her reasoning. He had peered at her as though he knew her ulterior motive, and that in itself was most likely the reason he denied her request.

  If they would only just leave, for heaven’s sake! The outer bailey was filled with people getting ready to depart. Her satchel was hidden in the stable stuffed with clothing so she could quickly change, saddle a horse, and hopefully catch up to the end of their party without anyone being the wiser. One more squire to aid the knights as they traveled could be easily overlooked. And if by some chance she was found out by her brother, then she prayed they would be far enough away in their journey that he would have no recourse but to allow her to continue onward.

  The wagon to carry Catherine and Winifred had been brought forward, and Freya rushed to Catherine’s side. The poor woman was completely distraught, if her red-rimmed eyes were any indication on how her grief affected her. To have lost her brother and nephew was unfathomable, especially since Freya knew how Catherine doted on young Patrick.

  She wrapped her arms around Catherine before placing a kiss on each cheek. “I wish I could come with ye, Catherine,” she whispered, hoping a last effort might convince Catherine to speak on Freya’s behalf.

  “There is nothing for you to do, Freya. Pray that Nicola yet lives and her baby has survived.” A gasp escaped Catherine as she buried her face in her hands. “’Tis bad enough to lose my brother, but to lose Patrick at such a young age…” Her voice trailed off.