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  One Knight’s Return

  A Medieval Romance

  Claire Delacroix

  Deborah A. Cooke

  One Knight’s Return

  by Claire Delacroix

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  Copyright ©2019 Deborah A. Cooke.

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  An earlier version of this story was published under the title

  My Lady’s Champion by Claire Delacroix

  Copyright ©1996 by Deborah A. Cooke.

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  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover by Kim Killion.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright preserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher of this book.

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

  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 electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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  Contents

  One Knight’s Return

  Rogues & Angels

  Dear Reader

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  More Books by the Author

  One Knight’s Return

  Rogues & Angels #2

  Quinn de Sayerne vowed never to return home while his villainous father drew breath. Twenty years after his departure, a knight and crusader, Quinn is summoned to claim his family holding after his father’s death. But his overlord has a stipulation: he must wed Melissande, the beautiful but frosty heiress of neighboring Annossy. Quinn resolves to win the heart of his lady wife, no matter what the cost.

  Melissande cannot believe that her liege lord has ignored her betrothal and wed her to a ruffian. Worse, he has granted the seal of Annossy to her new husband, despite her expertise. It is the dream of Quinn’s father brought to fruition, for the holdings will be merged just as he long schemed. Though her overlord cannot be defied and Melissande finds herself the chattel of this rough knight, she is determined to fight him on every front—for the sake of her betrothal, Annossy and herself

  But Annossy itself is in danger, with brigands raiding its borders. Quinn is charged to oust the villains or capture them, but soon learns their scheme is for more than the holding’s wealth. His lady wife is in peril, but will she trust Quinn in time for him to protect her? Or will he defeat the foes at the price of losing his wife forever?

  An earlier version of this story was published under the title My Lady’s Champion.

  Rogues & Angels

  Medieval Romance Series

  1. One Knight Enchanted

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  2. One Knight’s Return

  Dear Reader

  One Knight’s Return is a medieval romance about the arranged marriage of Quinn de Sayerne and Melissande d’Annossy. This is an enemies-to-lovers story that is set in my fictional realm of Tulley. Quinn has been summoned home from crusade by the Lord de Tulley, who is the overlord of his father who saw to Quinn’s training as a knight. Quinn’s wicked father, Jerome, has died, and Tulley wishes Quinn to take over the holding. Quinn is thrilled by this opportunity especially since he left Sayerne as a boy. Much to his surprise, Tulley has conditions upon the granting of the lordship—he insists that Quinn marry the daughter of a neighboring estate, Melissane d’Annossy. Melissande is even less enamored of this idea than Quinn, but they have little choice if they want to retain their respective holdings. Sparks fly between the pair from the beginning, for Melissande is outspoken about her disapproval of Tulley’s plan. Quinn resolves to win his lady’s loyalty and her heart, though he knows it won’t be an easy task. I love this pair and the energy between them, as well as how complementary their skills prove to be. Once they begin to work together, they are a formidable team!

  A version of this story was originally published under the title My Lady’s Champion. When I began to update the file for republication, I realized that I wanted to make some major changes to the story. I’ve done that—the second half of the book is almost entirely new—so have published this new version with a different title to distinguish it from the older version.

  One Knight’s Return is the second book in a series of medieval romances featuring a company of knights who fought together in the First Crusade and who call themselves Rogues & Angels. All eight of these knights will have their stories told and find their HEAs back in Europe. Each knight has received a gift which will feature in his story. The gifts are a bit enigmatic and challenge the knights’ various expectations. In addition to the changes made in the evolution of the romance, I also included new scenes with the company of knights who served with Quinn in Palestine.

  There are also connections between the knights of this company and my other medieval romance series: many of them are the forebears of later protagonists, and I’ll tell you more about those links as they unfold. On my website, these stories are all under the Sayerne tab, because that’s the world they share. There is also a Pinterest board for this series showing my inspiration and you can find that on the Sayerne tab as well.

  The next story in the series will be One Knight’s Desire, which is Niall and Heloise’s story and an entirely new work. Heloise is Tulley’s niece and likely his heir, while Niall is a charming rogue who never intends to be bound to a single woman. When he loses his heart to Heloise, things become interesting. Can he convince Heloise of his merit as a suitor? What about Lord de Tulley?

  I hope you enjoy this new version of Quinn and Melissande’s story, and also the companion knights of the Rogues & Angels series.

  All my best–

  Claire

  http://delacroix.net

  Prologue

  February 1102

  Quinn de Sayerne was home.

  He sighed with satisfaction as he surveyed the mountains that rose on either side of the familiar valley. Their silhouette was etched in his memory, yet to see them again was a gift.

  His party had ridden past the keep of the Lord de Tulley earlier in the day and he had noticed his companions stare in wonder at that fortification. Tulley’s keep perched on the top of the steep hill, commanding the valley in each direction. Quinn had found it impressive as a boy, but now, he saw its strategic advantage and appreciated the expense of its construction. A high and broad wall encircled the base of the hill, with the keep at its summit. The road wound upward from gates to keep, the village perched on the hillsides. Tulley was a marvel, but Quinn yearned for Sayerne’s simpler structure. They continued past his overlord’s holding in Quinn’s haste, though he knew he would shortly return to pay his respects.

  The party rode hard to the east until they reached the bridge that he knew as well as t
he lines on his own hand. He turned left once across the river, leading his fellows onward to the keep of Sayerne.

  In the twenty years since Quinn’s departure, there had been moments when he wondered if he would ever return to the holding where he had been born and raised. His heart pounded in anticipation of a dream achieved as his destrier, Fortitude, raced through the deep snow.

  When he crested the last rise and the Sayerne’s fortress came into sight, his heart leaped. No column of smoke rose from the château, and indeed, the keep looked to be abandoned. Another man might have been daunted by the changes, but Quinn saw only home.

  “Here it is!” he exclaimed to his companions, then looked again upon his legacy.

  The keep itself was built of stone, a single low tower surrounded by a curtain wall and moat. The village clustered on either side of the road, outside the gates but near the moat. Quinn could see the lines of the furrows in the fields surrounding the village, their dimensions evident even when buried in snow. The sky was a fierce clear blue overhead and the wind was crisp; the mountains looked down on Sayerne as always they had and he could not believe his good fortune.

  He would be Lord de Sayerne.

  When no one spoke, Quinn glanced back. Bayard appeared to be skeptical, but even his companion knight’s expression could not diminish Quinn’s pleasure.

  He had always feared that somehow his father would contrive to deny him his legacy. It would have suited the old man well, but Dame Fortune had smiled upon Quinn. After all these years, beloved Sayerne would be his. The Lord de Tulley had written to tell him so, thus it was true.

  Quinn spurred his destrier forward, refusing to note that the river had frozen over. The mill was outside the keep’s walls, the race fed by the same stream that was diverted to fill the moat. The mill wheel was lodged in heavy ice and Quinn could not remember it ever being so, even in winter. He told himself that the property must be well managed for all the wheat to be made to flour already. For so long, Sayerne had been a dream that buoyed his spirits, a touchstone that gave him hope for the future. He had come too far on that dream to readily surrender it.

  Still, he wondered as he rode closer to the village. There was no sound of children playing, or any voices at all. The wind whistled through the village, which appeared to be empty. Not a single face peeked out from the darkened doorways. Quinn’s dismay grew as a straw roof tumbled to the ground, even as he passed.

  Undoubtedly, it was too cold to stir, even for a neighbor.

  Some disrepair was to be expected in a land without an active lord.

  Perhaps the villagers had moved within the walls for the winter.

  Quinn was determined to maintain the euphoria of homecoming until he stood within the keep itself. Then and only then would he assess the damage done to the estate. They made their way through the silent village to the gates in those great walls. Quinn reined in his steed and stared, hearing Bayard and the four squires do the same behind him.

  The gates of Château Sayerne stood open, undefended.

  That was a sign of abandonment that he could not deny. Quinn stared without comprehension as one gate swung in the wind, its hinges creaking.

  How could this be?

  Where had everyone gone? And why?

  “It seems that the rumor of your boots’ stench has preceded you,” Bayard commented. The squires laughed, their voices falling silent when Quinn did not join in their merriment.

  It was the hand of his father that Quinn saw at work. He had the estate, but his bitter sire had ensured that he had naught else. It seemed that he had granted Jerome less credit for vindictiveness than was the old man’s due.

  Quinn straightened with newfound determination. He would claim his legacy, in whatever condition it might be, and rebuild the majesty of Sayerne.

  In the center of the bailey was a magical place that Quinn had loved as a child. The bailey rose there, in a hill that was a small echo of that at Tulley. From the back of a horse, one could see over the walls to the land beyond. With the low tower at one’s back, on a day so clear as this, Quinn would be able to look down the valley, all the way to Tulley. He rode directly there, ignoring the depth of the snow. His heart thundered in his chest as he turned Fortitude in place and looked upon his home.

  Far beyond the walls of Sayerne, the land rose to mountain peaks on either side of the valley of the river Helva, and those peaks touched the crisp blue of the winter sky. The snow reflected the sunlight with a brightness that hurt the eyes. He could see Tulley in the distance and imagined he could see the red banner snapping in the wind at its summit. The tower of the keep behind him cast a stark shadow across the snow and the wind whistled slightly. His father’s neglect could not destroy Quinn’s own memories or the beauty of the land itself.

  He was home, despite the odds, and that alone was cause to celebrate.

  “Good day!” he called toward the stables. He knew that no one would answer, yet the silence made him wince. He stared up at the silent tower of the keep, noting its dark windows. It looked mean and humble to his eyes now, as well as abandoned. The snow had blown into deep drifts in the bailey and even the way to the stables was not cleared.

  No one had been at Sayerne in a while.

  It was cursed cold. Would there be fuel for a fire? Any morsel to eat? And what of the horses? Would there be fodder and bedding for them? Quinn feared not.

  He refused to be daunted. He would rebuild.

  “I had no notion that our destination would be abandoned,” Bayard commented.

  “Nor I, but it is. It is no less mine for all of that.” Quinn raised his voice, letting it ring out across the bailey. “I am Lord de Sayerne, and I stake my claim on my ancestral holdings!”

  He leaped from his saddle and abruptly found himself hip-deep in snow. Fortitude snorted and stamped, tossing his dark head and prancing to one side. Of course, Quinn should have anticipated that the snow would rise over the tops of his boots for it fairly reached Fortitude’s belly.

  Bayard, curse him, laughed aloud.

  Quinn felt the snow slide its icy fingers into his boots and noticed the squires’ surprised expressions. He scowled at his old companion, hoping to reassure the boys with a jest.

  “Laugh while you may, for this snow is wicked cold in the boots.”

  “That I can see from here,” Bayard said.

  “Perhaps you should confirm how cold it is within one’s tunic.” Quinn lunged toward his fellow with a fistful of snow before Bayard could guess his intent.

  His weight threw the other knight off balance in his saddle and landed the two of them in the deep snow. They tussled, laughing and shoving handfuls of snow into each other’s garments by turn. The young squires laughed then cheered for one knight or the other.

  “Woho! It is indeed cold in the tunic!” Bayard roared. “How does it fare within the chausses?”

  Quinn shouted in dismay as Bayard shoved a handful of snow into his chausses. He spun and pelted his chuckling companion with snowballs. They chased each other, dodged and feinted, until Quinn leapt and landed solidly atop his friend.

  Bayard’s dark hair was already dusted with snow but Quinn still pushed him headfirst into a drift. The knight gained the surface again with a roar that sent the horses stepping sideways, then attacked Quinn.

  When they halted, breathless and covered in snow, Quinn could not help but laugh. “Your hair,” he managed to say. Bayard’s dark hair stood up on one side, snow shoved into it. “You could be a demon defending this place.”

  Bayard made a menacing face and the squires retreated. One slipped from his saddle and made a snowball. “Take this, demon!” he cried and his missile hit Bayard in the middle of the chest, splattering on his green tabard. The snowball fight commenced again, this time with all six of them at odds, three of the boys yet astride their palfreys.

  “Perhaps it was you who frightened everyone away,” Quinn teased.

  Bayard grinned. “Are you certain that no one
sent one of your boots in advance to terrify those in residence here?”

  “Not me, though I would not put such a feat past you.”

  “Me?” Bayard shook his head in mock disappointment. “Sadly, the thought did not occur to me in time. I could have dispatched a warning with that courier from your lord if my wits had been about me. He would have had a memorable journey, riding all the way from Palestine with that boot.”

  They laughed together at that.

  “As your wits desert you, so Sayerne’s villeins have deserted me,” Quinn said, his smile fading as he considered the implications of that.

  “Perhaps we should both check our boots,” Bayard whispered, giving him a nudge.

  Quinn was glad of his comrade’s presence. Bayard could always find a bright light and together, they would see all restored to rights. “If the villeins were so dismayed at the prospect of a new lord, it is better that they left,” Quinn concluded.

  “Aye,” Bayard agreed. “There will be challenges enough without doubt in the ranks.”

  Quinn beckoned to the squires and indicated the stables. “See whether you can make your way there and tend to our steeds. They have traveled far this day and are in sore need of rest.”