Maid for the Knight (Irvines of Drum Book 3) Read online

  Maid for the Knight

  Irvines of Drum

  Book Three

  Mia Pride

  © Copyright 2020 by Mia Pride

  Text by Mia Pride

  Cover by Dar Albert

  Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

  P.O. Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  [email protected]

  Produced in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2020

  Kindle Edition

  Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.

  All Rights Reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

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  Dearest Reader;

  Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from the some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.

  Happy Reading!

  CEO, Dragonblade Publishing

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mia Pride

  Irvines of Drum Series

  For Love of a Laird (Book 1)

  Like a Laird to a Flame (Book 2)

  Maid for the Knight (Book 3)

  Dedication

  For my father, who gave me the Irvine name that I proudly bear, my grandfather whose years of clan research inspired my love of genealogy and the creation of this series, and for my ancestors who guided me on this journey.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mia Pride

  Dedication

  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

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Dunnottar Castle, Scotland

  Seat of Clan Keith

  Fall 1393

  A whistle loud enough to wake the dead made him yelp with fear and quickly scramble out of his bed, tripping over the tangle of sheets around his small feet. Shouts followed by footsteps echoed down the hall just outside his chamber. Dunnottar was under attack!

  Grabbing the wooden sword his papa had made just for him, William held it out before him, practicing his very best fighting stance. After all, he had already been training to be a real warrior for three years. Surely, he could protect the castle alongside the other men. His papa said he was the strongest ten-year-old lad in all the land.

  Wiping his blurry eyes with his free hand, William shook his head, trying to get his long, disheveled blond hair out of his face. Swiftly opening the door, William jumped back and waved his sword in case a bad man was just on the other side.

  Familiar faces ran past his open door and, crinkling his forehead, William carefully stepped into the corridor, trying to make out the jumbled words of the men and women roaming the area. “A lass…” he heard one old man say.

  The sounds of his wee sister’s cry made him turn, and he saw his mother cradling wee Lizzie in her arms with naught but her under tunic and Keith plaid wrapped around her body as their father stepped forward, pushing his way through the crowd.

  “Mama?” His father barreled past him and William knew well enough never to disturb Papa when he had that frown on his face. It always meant something bad had happened. “What is wrong, Mama?” William touched his baby sister’s tiny feet as they kicked wildly, sticking out of her usual swaddle. Elizabeth fisted her wee hands and turned red with rage, making William roll his eyes. The bairn was always mad about something.

  Looking down at him, his mother smiled and patted his head, making him feel warm and safe. Gripping his wooden sword, William looked at his beautiful mother and wished to make her proud. “I will defend Dunnottar, as its future laird, Mother. I am ready.” Straightening his spine, he pulled his shoulders back and went onto his tiptoes, making certain to appear as tall as possible.

  Leaning over, his mother kissed his temple and whispered into his ear. “Ye are a mighty warrior, Will, and I ken ye could defend Dunnottar if we had danger. But rest assured, mo chroí, ’tis naught to be fearful of… unless ye fear yet another wee babe in the castle.”

  “Another babe? That is much worse than an enemy, indeed, Mother.” Laughing, his mother shook her head and stood up straight, pulling him against her side.

  “Come with me, Will. I, too, dinnae ken much more than that.” The crowd grew to a whisper as the Lady of Dunnottar, their future laird attached to her side, slowly strode through the corridor and down the stairs of the tower. The sound of a bairn crying drifted to his ears from the hall, yet his wee sister was right beside him. Another woman must have popped, he decided. One day they had large bellies, and the next day they burst, and a bairn was made. It was odd, but his mama said it was perfectly normal.

  “Who burst open this time, Mama?” he whispered as they reached the bottom step and walked toward the head table where his father seemed to be leaning over a squirming basket.

  “I dinnae ken, mo chroí. I am the midwife and no woman in our village is meant to be birthing a bairn just yet.” Stepping forward, William climbed up on the nearest bench to look over his father’s towering height and pouted when he saw a flame-haired bairn screeching like a wee banshee inside a woven basket. One foot popped out and kicked fiercely as its face turned the same shade of red that his sister often did. Wee bairns were an odd lot.

  Removing the blanket, his father gently picked up the screaming babe and smiled like he did when he held Elizabeth or worked in the lists with William. “Whose could it possibly be, Robert?” His mother sidled up to him and touched the bairn, making calming sounds that made both crying babes immediately grow silent. His mother must have magical powers, because every time William held wee Lizzie, all she did was scream and soil her clout.

  “I dinnae ken, Matilda.” Shaking his head, his father looked inside the clout, and William grimaced. Why would he willingly do such a thing? “Ah. Look at that. ’Tis a wee lass, after all.”

  “We found her outside the gate, my laird,” one guard said from the side. “We were watching, I vow it! Someone in a dark cloak dropped her off and ran, blending so well with the darkness, we hardly saw him before he disappeared down the hill! We shouted but couldnae stop him in time.”

  “’Tis quite all right, Angus. Whoever it was must have been verra desperate. Nobody from the village was expecting a child, Matilda?” He looked over his shoulder at his wife who just frowned and shook her head.

  Coming closer, William looked down into the basket and saw something silver gleaming from within the tangled dark blue wool blanket. “Papa? What is this?” Grabbing what appeared to be a linked chain, William pulled it from the basket and dangled it before his father.

  Squinting his eyes, his father inspected a dangling medallion before going white and swiftly grabbing it from William’s hands. “All is well,” he said loud enough for all to hear, yet gently enough not to scare the wee lass. “Yer lady and I shall manage the bairn. I wish for ye all to go back to yer chambers. Angus, go back to yer post and tell the men to keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

  Nodding, Angus strode out of the hall and through the door to the inner bailey while everyone else murmured their interest as they dispersed back to their chambers.

  “What was that, Robert?” his mother asked, and William looked up at his father, hoping to be a part of the secret.

  “I ken not what it means, but this child cannae ever go back to where she came from… wherever that is…” His father’s voice drifted off as he looked at the pendant once more, dropping his brows as he looked at the shield engraved into the silver circular medallion. A crowned he
art with a Pegasus was on one side of a pointed shield, and a lion rampant with fleur de lis on the other side. William knew his father recognized the pendant, but if he was not willing to speak of it, he knew better than to ask.

  “Well…” His mother sighed but brightened as she looked the bairn over. “She is a wee beauty and is the same size as our Lizzie. They shall be great companions. Though, she will be needing a name, ye ken.”

  “We shall name her Matilda, after ye, my love. She is wee, but she is mighty, just like ye… and she has a strong set of lungs, which I daresay ye do, as well.” His mama playfully whapped his father in the arm, but she smiled and rocked Elizabeth in her arms.

  “Welcome to Clan Keith, wee Matilda.” His mother giggled when the bairn cooed in his father’s arms and William looked at both wee lassies and frowned. He would never get a good night’s sleep for the rest of his days.

  Chapter One

  Drum Castle, Scotland

  Seat of Clan Irvine

  Spring 1413

  Bouncing the bairn on her lap, Matilda tilted her head back and let out a laugh when wee Alexander loudly belched in her face. “Ye have the manners of yer uncle, I see,” she grunted and rubbed his back.

  “Are ye speaking of William or Reginald?” Elizabeth asked, watching her from the other side of the room as she kicked her feet up near the crackling fire with a sigh.

  “Take yer pick,” Matilda replied with a snort.

  “Excuse me?” A deep voice from behind made Matilda shift in her seat and look over her shoulder. Reginald stood in the entryway, leaning against the door with his legs crossed and one brow raised. “Ye think so little of my manners that ye would compare me to my wee nephew, who shites in clouts and vomits in yer hair? I have failed in my knightly duties, I fear.”

  The sarcasm in his voice matched the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. Fortunately, he and Matilda had plotted more than their share of schemes together over the years, and she understood that it took more than a slight jab to ruffle Reginald’s feathers.

  “Should I not remind ye of the night ye drank until ye passed out with yer head in my lap?” Wee Alexander cooed and plopped his head against her shoulder, making her smile as she ran her hand over his fuzzy head. “Ye see there? He is only nine months old, yet ye both pass out on me.” Matilda smiled widely when Reginald shrugged in agreement and stepped further into the room.

  “Reg, really. Ye ought to be ashamed of yerself. What gentleman lays his head in a lady’s lap?” Elizabeth exclaimed.

  “He is no gentleman and I am no lady. I am naught but a maid, dinnae ye forget.”

  “Bollocks to both,” Reginald replied. “Ye are a far greater lady than most I ken. And despite the ill manners ye accuse me of, I believe I am most chivalrous. As for sleeping with my head in her lap, I have no excuse. ’Twas not my finest moment. Stop referring to yerself as a maid. Not a single person in these walls thinks of ye as less than royalty.”

  Matilda carefully looked at Reginald as he stepped closer and ran a finger down wee Alexander’s soft face, his lashes fanning against his chubby cheeks. Elizabeth could be appalled by Reginald, just like most people in the castle. He was a tad wild and used humor to deflect anything overly serious, but Matilda knew a softer side to the man. Of all the people in the Irvine Clan, Reginald had been the one she felt closest to. He was not quite like a brother, for she felt butterflies in her belly every time he was near, and yet he was more than a friend… and could never be a lover. Nay, he was a knight of Scotland and the brother to the Laird of Drum. He was of noble birth, and she was naught but an orphaned maid who had been fortunate enough to show up in a basket in front of castle willing to take her in. William and Elizabeth Keith were the closest she had to siblings, and looking at William surely did not make Matilda wish to sigh. But Reginald most definitely did not feel like a brother. He was a companion who she enjoyed looking at and scheming with, and naught more. Yet, when he spoke to her as if she were a true highborn woman without so much as an inflection in his voice, Matilda felt her heart flutter just a wee bit faster.

  Deciding to change the subject, Matilda cleared her throat and brushed a red curl behind her ear. “What are ye doing back from London so soon, Reg?”

  “That is another story altogether,” he replied, his face growing somber.

  Before either woman could ask further questions, two more men stepped into the entryway of Elizabeth’s large chamber, yet they appeared much more frazzled and windswept than Reginald. “Robert? Why are ye back from London so soon?” Stepping forward, Elizabeth gripped her heart and looked from her husband to her brother. “Will? What are ye doing here? Where is Mary? What is afoot?” Panic rose in Elizabeth’s voice, and Matilda simply took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Unlike her companion, Matilda had always attempted to keep a level head in times of uncertainty. No good ever came from panicking. But mayhap having grown up without parents of her own, despite being well-loved and cared for, had made a stronger lass of her.

  Matilda stood up and rocked wee Alexander in her arms, looking around the room at the sudden arrival of not only their laird who was supposed to be in London on important business involving the imprisoned Scottish king but with additional men, as well.

  “Mary is well,” William said and stepped forward to give Elizabeth an embrace, rubbing her back to soothe her. “I have missed ye and my wee nephew, Sister. And of course, Tilda.” He smiled at her and she gave him a shaky grin back, but she knew by the heavy air that followed the men through the door that this was no social visit.

  Wrapping her arms around her brother, Elizabeth smiled widely before pulling back. “I have missed ye and Mary both. I ken it was my idea for ye to wed her, but I do miss having her on Drum lands daily. But… I dinnae understand why ye are here, and with my husband.”

  William stepped away and looked at Matilda with a raised brow. “Arenae ye going to greet me, wee Sister?”

  “Has marriage made ye gone soft, Brother? Ye usually storm into a room and start shouting commands at us, ye ken.” Matilda matched his raised brow but decided to relent and leaned in to give him an embrace. “I have missed ye, Will. Now, what brings ye to Drum with Robert?”

  “King Henry has died, Tilda,” Reginald said from beside her. “We overheard the news while we were in London trying find a way to ransom our own King James from the English king, but the bastard went and died before an agreement could be made.”

  “Aye,” Robert said as he moved closer to Elizabeth and kissed her cheek, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Matilda always enjoyed watching them interact and smirked when she remembered all the tirades Elizabeth used to throw over the ideas of romantic love. It was naught but tales made for fools, she would say. And though Matilda still felt much the same, clearly Elizabeth had changed her mind the moment she fell in love with Robert Irvine. “We are putting a call out to our neighboring clans. We must gather and ride to Westminster. Mayhap his son, the new king, will be willing to lower the ransom for our king. We must try!”

  “Scotland has not been able to gather 60,000 merks to set him free, and the cursed regent has no intentions of freeing his nephew, so long as he keeps his power. But if the new king is willing to work out a deal—”

  “Ye ken he willnae,” William chimed in. “He has nothing to gain by doing so, and our king has become so involved with English politics, he is more English than the cursed King of England!”

  “Scotland needs a king!” Robert groused. “Not a greedy regent who is guilty of killing King Robert’s heir to get closer to the throne. King James is a hostage because of his uncle and Archibald Douglas, who helped him kill the heir and have James captured, and we all ken it. Nothing will change the flow of power until we get out king back!”

  “’Tis worth a try,” Reginald agreed with his usual casual air. Anyone who did not know him well would suspect he did not care, but Matilda knew better. Reginald kept a head as cool as hers, which is why they seemed to gravitate toward one another when chaos struck, which had happened often as of late. While everyone ran around in a frenzy of circles, she and Reginald could scheme up a plan and walk a straight line toward their goal. And when it came to matching others for marriage, their reputations were unsurpassed.