Defiance
Anna Markland
DEFIANCE
The Montbryce Legacy
Anniversary Edition
Book 2
by
Anna Markland
©Anna Markland 2011,2018
Cover Art by Dar Albert
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
More Anna Markland
Prologue
Tremor
Bullies
Brute
Marriage
He Won't Be Interested
The Duke Visits
Ram's Gift
Melton
Lying Snake
Come
Plans Laid
The Cave
The Passageway
The Lever
Panic
Is It A Dream?
Child's Play
Ramifications
The Bishop
Antoine's Confession
Trapping A Rat
Deepest Fears
Precious Gifts
Passion
Pledge
Sybilla
Family Above All
Proposal
Curse Of The Montbryces
The Trial
All Is Well
Epilogue
Redemption ~ Book III
About Anna
Dedication
Love will find its way
through paths where wolves would fear to prey,
and if it dares enough,
‘twere hard if passion met not some reward.
~Lord Byron
For my mother Alice Syddall
~“One in a million”
Defiance by Anna Markland
Book Two, The Montbryce Legacy, Anniversary Edition
© 2011, 2018 Anna Markland
www.annamarkland.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
For permissions contact: anna@annamarkland.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Portions of this story were originally published under the title If Love Dares Enough.
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More Anna Markland
The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018)
I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen
II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla
III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta
The Montbryce Legacy First Edition (2011-2014)
Conquering Passion—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen (audiobook available)
If Love Dares Enough—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla
Defiant Passion-Rhodri & Rhonwen
A Man of Value—Caedmon & Agneta
Dark Irish Knight—Ronan & Rhoni
Haunted Knights—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina
Passion in the Blood—Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys
Dark and Bright—Rhys & Annalise
The Winds of the Heavens—Rhun & Glain, Rhydderch & Isolda
Dance of Love—Izzy & Farah
Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter
Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana
Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider
Hearts and Crowns—Gallien & Peridotte
Fatal Truths—Alex & Elayne
Sinful Passions—Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan
Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families
The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn
The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja
The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith
Novellas
Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby
Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine
Banished—Sigmar & Audra
Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne—Kindle Worlds
Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine
Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)
Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret
Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte
Book 2.5 Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora (a Kindle Worlds book)
Book III Roses Among the Heather—Blair &Susanna, Craig & Timothea
The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)
Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt
Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca
Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara
Myth and Mystery
The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn
The Pendray Papers
Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah
(audiobook available)
Clash of the Tartans
Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona
Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel
Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla
Prologue
England, September 1066
Sir Landry Melton scanned the parchment handed to him by Harold Godwinson, King of the English. The stern set of the monarch’s jaw was unsettling, and Landry understood it only too well once he’d read the missive.
As one of the king’s huscarls, he had played an important role in massing the Saxon army on the south coast of England to await the arrival of William, Duke of Normandie. It was common knowledge William intended to pursue his false claim to the throne, allegedly promised to him by Edward the Confessor.
Landry swallowed hard, handing back the message that had sent chills down his spine.
The king’s brother entered the tent. “King Harald Hardråda has landed unexpectedly on the north east coast near York,” Harold informed him. “He has brought a force of more than fifteen thousand Norwegians. He’s come for the throne.”
Gyrth banged his fist on the flimsy camp table, anger writ plain on his gaunt face as he read the dire tidings. “What’s worse,” he muttered, “if what is written here is true, our wretched half-brother has joined with Hardråda.”
“Tostig is evidently incensed I drove him out of his earldom of Northumbria after he rebelled against me,” Harold replied. “What did he expect? However, more importantly, the trap we’ve carefully laid for William is now in serious jeopardy. What’s your advice, Landry? Do we stay here and wait for the Norman, or make haste to York?”
Honored as he was by the king’s confidence in his opinion, Landry sensed his assessment—that they should wait for William—would conflict with that of the king’s impetuous brother.
“We must oppose your Norwegian rival,” Gyrth insisted without waiting to hear Landry’s reply. “The threat from him is real. William is still waiting in Normandie for the wind to change.”
It seemed Harold was of the same mind. “You’re right. We have no choice.”
Landry held his peace, though he deemed the decision a serious military mistake. York had surrendered to Hardråda, but the strategic northern town was far from the seat of government. They could deal with the Norwegian once the threat fro
m Normandie had been quashed.
The ensuing forced march was grueling, the men discontent. They’d settled into their camp and hadn’t expected to be sent north to establish another.
In an effort to avoid battle, Harold arranged a meeting with Tostig on the outskirts of York, but no agreement was reached and the battle was joined the next day at dawn at Stamford Bridge.
As the morning wore on, Landry’s pride in his troops swelled. Despite the long march, they fought with great valor. The Norwegians were forced to retreat under the weight of superior English numbers. They were driven across the Ouse, where they made a fresh stand.
Landry’s hopes for a quick victory were dashed when a lone Norwegian giant took up a post on the bridge over the river and hewed down more than two score Saxons with a battle-axe. This stayed the advance of the English army for many hours.
Harold became exasperated as he watched the massacre from his command post. He asked Landry, “Who is that formidable warrior?”
“No one knows, Sire,” he replied with equal irritation. “But we cannot advance with him there. I have a plan to send a boat beneath the bridge, and skewer him with a spear from below.”
With three of his most trusted men, Landry climbed into a skiff they’d commandeered. Two rowed as they approached the Norwegian from behind, but let the water do the work once they got close. The din and clatter of battle resounded, wounded men screamed in agony, but success depended on stealth. No one spoke as the skiff drifted beneath the giant. Ignoring the pulse beating in his ears, Landry got to his feet and thrust the spear up through a crack in the boards of the old bridge, grunting with satisfaction when metal sank into flesh.
His blood turned to ice when the scowling Norwegian peered down at them as if they were pesky gnats who’d interrupted his amusement.
Still gripping his axe, the infuriated warrior leapt from the bridge. Blood poured from the wound as he plucked the spear from his thigh and threw it aside. Sure he’d severely wounded his enemy, and puzzled as to why the man still lived, Landry drew his sword. In his confusion, he lost his balance in the skiff. The wounded Norwegian lunged, sinking the blade of his axe deep into Landry’s shoulder. Pain arrowed into every part of his body as bone shattered; bile rose in his throat; everything around him tilted. He knew with dire certainty he would never see his beloved Wilona again.
His compatriot stood poised to skewer the Norwegian with his spear, but the man was already dead.
Shouts of victory rose from the Saxons as they overran the demoralized Norwegians.
Landry had expected to die in battle, wished for it in fact, but had never thought to die in a rowboat ‘neath a rickety bridge. Strangely, the pain receded as the mists gathered. He consigned himself to his God. It would fall to his elderly father to take care of Melton Manor and Landry’s three young daughters. He worried in particular about Devona, beautiful and of an age to marry. It broke his heart that he would never see his grandchildren.
As Landry’s life ebbed away, King Harold went down on one knee at his side. “I thank you, faithful warrior. The Norwegians are defeated. Harald Hardråda has been killed by an arrow through the throat. I will make sure your family knows of your bravery.”
Gyrth joined them. “We’ve thrashed the Norwegians. Of their three hundred ships, only four and twenty are returning with their wounded, and Tostig, the traitor, is dead.”
Harold scratched his head. “We’ve defeated one rival, but now we’re hundreds of miles from the south coast where William might arrive any time. Our army is tired, bloodied and aching to return home.”
Landry resisted the temptation to tell his king the march north had been a mistake, sensing Harold already knew it. “We’ll rout the Norman bastard,” he rasped as the darkness claimed him.
Tremor
En route to Domfort, Normandie, January 1067
Hugh de Montbryce tightened his grip on Velox’s reins, but it didn’t stop the uncontrollable shaking. He hoped Antoine hadn’t noticed but suspected his brother was aware the hand tremor had plagued him since the eve of the Battle of Hastings.
That fateful October night, their eldest brother had sensed his turmoil. “There’s no shame in fear,” Rambaud had stated flatly. “I’m afraid, as is Antoine. Any man who tells you he isn’t terrified of the impending battle with the Saxons is a liar. The important thing is not to allow fear to control you. Bravery is born of fear.”
His brother’s words had both reassured and annoyed him. “I can’t stop shaking, but I’m not a coward.”
Now, three months later, riding the frost-rutted route to Domfort with Antoine, Hugh recalled his outburst the night after the horror of the battle. “Why is it the thing a man feels most compelled to do after courting death is lie with a woman? The survivors in my brigade are hobbling round with tree trunks at their groins.”
His shaking hand had gone to his rigid manhood. “Look at me. I can’t help myself.”
His confession had caused his brothers to shift nervously on their camp stools. The three were gazing into the dying embers of a fire they had hoped would dispel the October chill and warm their hearts after the sickening slaughter. He knew their discomfort was not caused by embarrassment at the uncharacteristically shocking remark from their baby brother, but because they understood.
Into the dark memory of those terrible days when the future of England and Normandie hung in the balance, Antoine’s voice penetrated. “Let’s hope Ram and Mabelle reached Westminster in time for the coronation of our Duke William as King of the English on Christmas Day.”
Hugh glanced at his brother. “They’ll have made it, if the tides and winds were favorable. After the festivities, I suppose Ram will be obliged to leave Mabelle in Westminster. He can’t take her to live in Ellesmere Castle, given its dilapidated state.”
Antoine nodded his agreement. “Oui. I don’t blame Ram for being disappointed with the condition of the castle Duke William granted him. Compared with Montbryce, it’s a ruin.”
“Nothing more than an earthwork,” Hugh added.
Antoine chuckled, his thoughts evidently on the same events. “I’m sure no one has ever been wedded and bedded as speedily as Mabelle.”
“If Ram failed to show up at Westminster, he would surely lose his promised earldom, but he was willing to risk it to bind Mabelle to him,” Hugh replied. “While he may not yet realize it, she’s his soul mate.”
His own words chilled his heart. He had resolved never to look for a soul mate. Hastings had changed him forever. The happy-go-lucky Hugh was gone, ground into the blood, muck and gore.
Antoine nodded. “I hope Ram comes to appreciate Mabelle more. She’s the woman he’ll need as he tries to establish his earldom in England.”
“Oui.”
“Especially in the dangerous Welsh Marches.”
“Oui.”
Antoine chattered on, pulling his cloak more tightly around him in the chilly air. “The brutality of our army’s victorious crossing of the Thames at Wallingford sickened me. I was glad of the chance to escape the never-ending bloodshed and accompany Ram on his journey to inspect Ellesmere Castle. He certainly deserves the earldom granted as a reward for the building of our fleet for the invasion, but he and Mabelle will have their work cut out for them in Ellesmere.”
“Oui.”
“But Mabelle is strong. She’s survived on her wits for many years.”
“Oui.”
Antoine frowned. “Is that all you can say? Oui? What happened to the talkative baby brother I used to know?”
Hugh shrugged. “He’s no more. I’m sorry, I don’t feel like making conversation.”
Antoine shook his head and sighed. “Look, mon frère, memories of Hastings are painful for us all. I’ll never be the same. The horror will always be with me, but I will not allow it to ruin my life. We were lucky all three of us survived and
we should celebrate that.
“You fought well at Hastings, distinguished yourself in fact, and we were fortunate to serve under Ram’s command, helping the Conqueror take Dover and Canterbury.”
His brother was right and yet Hugh’s dark mood refused to leave him. “I suppose I should be thankful to have survived with only a gash on my arm from a Saxon sword. I’ll try not to be so sombre.”
He rubbed his bicep. The wound had healed well, but the muscle ached still.
“Good. I’ve no wish to be talking to myself all the way to Domfort. Ram was concerned about you after Hastings, and I’m beginning to see why. He’s appointed us overseers of Mabelle’s dowry holdings at Domfort and Belisle, so we must live up to his expectations.”
Hugh’s shoulders tensed. “Of course we’ll live up to his expectations. We’re Montbryces. I haven’t forgotten that. I won’t let either of them down. You’ll help me get established at Domfort, then journey on to Belisle.”
They rode in silence for a long while before Antoine spoke again. “Hasten the day when Mabelle’s father no longer holds Alensonne in his manic grip, then we can turn our talents to sorting out that castle as well.”