Isabella Drake has been promised in marriage to Lord Algernon Greenfield,
and no objections she can muster will change her father's mind. When Sir
Kiernan Dunleavy arrives to escort her to her new husband, her defiance is
given no more notice than that of a two year old child's. But Isabella is
made of sterner stuff than most women, and soon her defiance is out of hand.
Sir Kiernan has no problem dealing with her in the time- honored way, but
in spite of himself he begins to admire her fiery nature and regret that
his task is to deliver her to a sour old man old enough to be her grandfather.
But it is his duty, isn't it?
Captain's Duty is a historical romance, set
in Restoration England
Chapter One
Part I
Red-faced, his hands clenched into fists of rage, Manfred Drake would no doubt have struck the angry face of his daughter had he not feared having her showing up bruised to meet her betrothed. Although, at this point he was wondering whether knocking her unconscious would be the only way to get her to meet him at all.
"Isabella Drake!" As the old man's voice reverberating off the stone walls and everyone within hearing distance winced - except the one person he was addressing. "We have talked of your duty to this family. I thought the issue of your responsibility to this house had been decided."
"No, father. You have talked," the girl responded, her eyes flashing green fire. "You and my brothers and my aunts and uncles. I've only listened because it seems every time I start to object to your marrying me off against my will I am ignored as if I hadn't spoke at all! All I've ever heard is about my "duty" to marry into a family that will shore our own up politically, but what about my rights - my rights to fall in love or at least meet the man I'm to marry more than a fortnight before we are to be wed?"
"P-Perhaps I can help," interrupted Drake's elderly sister. "My dear, child. Such marriages are tradition in our family. And now, with the losses of such a hard winter this alliance between our families is more vital than ever.
"Well, if you are so in favor of such alliances, Auntie, then why don't you marry Lord Algernon Greenfield? He's certainly closer to your age," the girl scoffed.
"If I could I would," the old woman replied. "But I've been married. Besides, at my age I'm hardly what he would want…." Her voice trailed off at the sound of Isabella's bitter laugh.
"Oh, yes. The old man wouldn't possibly want an old woman for company. No, heaven forbid! Instead send him some young virgin to warm his dusty bed. But could either of you explain to me why it is that this old man is deserving of my maidenhead and I - as a child of this household - rate no better than a wrinkled, spent ghost of a man?"
The sound of gasps filled the room at the girl's frank comments.
On the dais, her father started to respond, but his daughter waved him off.
"Don't bother. I know if it isn't me you'll just send either Bridgit or Rosemary for him to rape." As she spoke she looked protectively at her two 12-year-old twin cousins who sat in watched the family drama in wide-eyed silence.
Then, turning back to her elders, Isabella fixed them with an icy gaze. "Just remember this. I am doing as you bid to save them -not because I care for any of you. As far as I'm concerned, you can all go to the devil."
No one dared stop Isabella as she stormed from the hall - not even her father who gestured for his sister to halt when she tried to follow the girl. Allowing the strong-willed chit the small victory of an unanswered comment was an adequate trade-off for the knowledge that she spoke the truth; they both knew if she refused to go, he would do exactly as his daughter feared and send one of the twins in her stead.
But what frustrated Manfred Drake was the girl's lack of appreciation. Yes, he conceded to himself, Lord Greenfield was older. Much, much older. But at his home she would never endure want nor hunger. And he, her father, would never again have to worry that his only daughter would end up the wife of some poor farmer. As much of a beast as Isabella thought him to be, all he wanted for her was the best. And while the union was a good one politically for the family, her wellbeing had been his primary motivation
In time, perhaps she would understand, he thought as he watched her fleeing form. Not that it much mattered now; in the morning Isabella would be on the way to the house of Lord Greenfield and her insolence would be his problem.
Part II
"It's a bloody fine condition these trails are in," Thomas Gordon complained as his mount struggled to keep its footing on the shifting surface of road snaking though the misty hills.
Ahead of him, Sir Kiernan Dunleavy turned in his saddle to smile back at his best friend and right-hand man.
Sir Kiernan - or Kier as he was known to those closest to him - couldn't blame Thom for his grousing. They had, after all, been riding all night, picking their way through narrow trails with nothing more than faint moonglow to light their path.
He knew that it was the importance of the task that kept Thom from complaining before now, for not every day is one asked to fetch the bride-to-be of the most powerful man in the region.
"She is young and from what I gather somewhat headstrong," the older man had told Kier, handing him a picture of his intended bride. "I understand from her father that while she is resigned to come here she is….skittish and at times has indicated less than a cooperative spirit."
Kier remembered feeling rather sorry for the old man as he looked at the small portrait of what looked like a raven-haired, fairy tale princess. He instantly suspected what neither he nor the old Lord would openly acknowledge: in a world where girls had little more to look forward to than marrying the man of their dreams, even with all his lands an elderly man wasn't exactly what most would prefer.
But he also knew Lord Greenfield longer for an heir to his lands. The old man's beloved wife of many years had never been able to carry a child to term. This young girl represented his last chance to have the son he always wanted.
"In spite of the girl's reticence, I'm sure she'll eventually be happy to her. I'm trusting you, Kiernan, to deliver her to my house in three days - no matter what it takes. If she gives you trouble or tries to escape - and I've been warned that she may - correct her if you must. All I ask is that she makes it here - preferably obedient and subdued." Lord Greenfield had said. Then the old man had chuckled. "The way you handled that imposter two years ago leads me to believe that you're imminently qualified to bring my new bride to heel if needed," he had added, patting Kier on the arm.
Kier smiled, remembering pretty Marianna Livingston, a tall 15-year old blonde with an adventurous spirit. Had the girl been born a male, she would have no doubt made a good soldier. But she had not been and her parents insisted she act like a lady and do what ladies do.
But Marianna wasn't so easily dissuaded, and when her brother William joined Kier's troops the same week she was betrothed to a shopkeeper's son, she chopped off her tresses, brazenly stole some clothing and gear from some soldiers camping nearby and slipped into their ranks undetected - almost.
Her plan would have been almost foolproof had family loyalty not betrayed her. For on her fifth day in camp she sprung to her brother's defense during a verbal altercation he was having with another solider. A strong girl, she not only ended up assaulting William's foe but easily trounced him in the process. But instead of gratitude, William expressed anger at this someone effeminate soldier jumping to his defense. That fury and humiliation followed anger when he got a better look at his comrade's face and realized it was Marianne.
But William's disapproval was nothing compared to that of Kier, who arrived at the scene to break them up. He knew at first glance that this was a girl, and he decided to take measures that would ensure she'd soon prefer hearth and home to the brutal world of men.
"Put me down, you son of a pig!" the girl had screamed as she tried to remove herself form his restraining arm. But Kier had only gripped pulled her face level with him, smirking before calling to gain the attention of the gathering men.
"We have an imposter here, gentlemen!," he said. "A young girl, no less!"
The men had guffawed loudly. "Perhaps she's a spy!" one had shouted.
"Either that or seeking and adventure she'll long remember," he had shouted. "What say you, men? Do you think she'll remember at rip over my knee?"
The men had cheered and Kier had rewarded their enthusiasm by propping one foot up on a stump and throwing the girl over his raised leg. As she fought he threw aside her coat and reached beside him to snap a bare branch off the tree beside him. Marianne, catching his action from the corner of her eye, whimpered in fear.
Then, as the switch fell on her wiggling rump, she screamed.
As self-assured as Kier seemed to his men, he did not take pleasure in bringing pain and humiliation to the girl. But he knew that a group of randy men was no safe place for a young lady - especially one so fair of face and form. He wanted to be sure that by the time he was finished she'd never want to set foot back in his camp.
So methodically he repeatedly brought down the switch, the sounds of its whistling through the air drowned out by what had become a litany of incoherent pleas and pitiful wails. Even though the girl was wearing woolen breeches, they were not thick and stretched tight across the straining bum the men around her now strained to see - a bum that Kier was deftly managing to punish with hard, criss-crossing strokes.
The last five he concentrated on aiming at the lower part of her bottom and upper thighs. These caused Marianne such distress that she almost fell from his lap. And on the last one - which he intentionally angled to cross from the corner of her lower buttock to the tender inside of her thigh - he didn't even retrain her, but instead allowed her to propel herself to the ground.
For the next few moments, the men were treated to an incredible display of the pretty "soldier" dancing around as she rubbed her scorched bottom. The offers by some to help her "rub the hurt away" didn't help her mood and Marianne - as Kier predicted - fled the camp in abject humiliation.
It was his trusted guard Thom he sent that day to follow the girl at a distance and later when his friend returned to report that she had arrived home - only to receive another "hidin'" from her father. With the news, Kier knew he'd seen the last of Marianne, who eventually did go on to become an obedient wife to the shopkeeper.
Kier hoped he'd never again have to handle such a brat, but nonetheless he dutifully accepted Lord Greenfield's request to fetch his betrothed home. He had his own opinion about the what looked like a marriage doomed before it began - if not for an end at least for unhappiness. But Kier stopped himself short of questioning or judging the old man, who was like a father to him. In fact, in many ways he was more like one.
While it was common knowledge that Lord Greenfield's late factor had fathered Kiernan, he had never taken responsibility for him or any of the other bastards he had spawned through his disgraceful practice of accepting the virtue of commoners' daughters in lieu of rent.
Kier's mother had died when he was only three from what many claimed was a broken heart. A beautiful, optimistic girl, she had never given up hope that Kier's father would someday come to claim them. But one day, when Kier was barely two, the factor rode through the area, looked straight at the child and his mother and rode off with a smirk. From that day on, Kier's mother never smiled again and rarely spoke. The following winter she took with a fever and died.
Kier stayed with his grandparents for four years after his mother's death. But when it became apparent they'd be unable to feed him they asked a family friend -an army officer whose family still lived in the village - if he could perhaps find the lad work as a groom or errand boy. That soldier was Algernon Greenfield.
He took Kier under his wing and practically raised him. Living with rowdy soldiers was hardly a suitable atmosphere for a young boy, but Kier adapted well, even managing to learn reading, writing, Latin and philosophy from the squadron cleric. The boy astounded everyone with first his brilliance and then his character, eventually becoming a dedicated soldier and captain in the army.
As Greenfield ascended through the rank, his loyalty to the king won him rewards of lands and riches. When he retired to the more leisurely life as a wealthy Lord he looked to Kier as captain of the force he appointed to guard his lands and holdings.
And now, as the mist began to lift, Kier could see in the distance a crumbling stone manor where dwelled Isabella Drake - the woman who would replace Lord Greenfield's recently departed wife.
"'Tis a wonder they could even come up with a suitable dowry," Thom was now saying as he and Kier scanned the valley. Beside the house and outbuildings - which was in grave need of repair - stood bare fields sparsely dotted with cattle and sheep.
Kier didn't respond, for he knew that the dowry the Lord Greenfield had accepted was very small - a mystery to him since he knew Manfred Drake would have paid far more for the benefits of having his daughter become the next Lady Greenfield.
But half an hour later, when Kier reached the grounds of the manor to finally lay eyes on the girl he was to escort back he no longer questioned the Lord's decision.
He had been only mildly surprised that Manfred Drake was waiting outside his own house with his daughter and surmised the girl's father was probably too ashamed of the state of his hall to invite visitors inside.
But Kier quickly decided that the Drake had no reason to be ashamed of the prize he was sending to Lord Greenfield.
Even with the scowl on her beautiful face, the girl was extraordinarily beautiful. On a mane of jet-black hair that toppled in waves around her shoulders she wore a pretty garland. The girl was petite - almost tiny, but without being waif-like. Instead, she had a womanly curvaceous body that was just shy of plump.
Isabella was wearing an emerald-green velvet dress that closely matched the color of beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. But in those eyes Kier instantly noticed the only thing that marred the nearly flawless girl; a seething anger she did not even try to hide.
Even though he suddenly predicted a difficult journey home, Kier gave no indication of that he took notice of her rage.
"I'm Captain Kiernan Dunleavy and this is my man Thomas Gordon," he said to Isabella, extending his hand.. "We've come to escort you to your new home."
Isabella did not even try to hide her belligerence from the man addressing her, even as she regarded him with cool eyes.
At 6' 3", Kier was as brawny as Isabella was tiny. A lifetime of working in the outdoors had made him hard-muscled. His rustic heritage also showed in his features, which lacked the sharp refinement of the aristocracy. But even so, it was a handsome face with a lantern jaw and dark blue eyes topped with jet-black brows that were almost too heavy. His thick, wavy hair - also jet blacked - was beginning to show the signs of premature gray. To most people, the tall, dark Kier with his commanding presence was an intimidating figure. But the girl in the green dress seemed unfazed.
"She is ready and the rest of my household will be along in a fortnight for the wedding.
Kier turned his attention to the girl's father, whose words interrupted their mutual appraisal".
Then turning to Isabella, Manfred Drake attempted to hug her goodbye.
But Isabella moved away from her father as he leaned forward. "Rather than expending the energy pretending to display false affection why don't you use it to pretend to miss me when I'm gone?" she asked with a sarcastic sweetness.
Kier frowned as he noted Manfred Drakes pained expression. Having not known a father's love, he appreciated its importance. The girl, he decided, could use some schooling in manners.
"Here, here," he said to the girl, taking hold of her arm. "Your father is clearly desiring a last hug before you depart. Are you so lofty now as the future Lady Greenfield that you can't give it to him?"
Isabella looked first at the large hand clutching her upper arm and then up at Kier's face. Her cheeks flamed scarlet with anger and embarrassment.
"How dare you?" she hissed to Kier, low enough that only he could hear. "How dare you interject your peasant opinion into my personal affairs."
With a surprisingly strong motion, she twisted her arm from Kier's grip.
"And just to clarify matters, I am as eager to become the next Lady Greenfield as I am to contract the plague."
Furious, she strode to her horse, pleased at least that her wishes to ride to her new home rather than take a carriage had been granted.
Jerking the reins from Thom, she leaped lightly into the saddled and the reined the white mare in the direction of the road.
She didn't turn to look behind her to see whether the two men were following. In fact, she didn't intend to look back at all, especially at Kiernan Dunleavy. Of a few things she was certain. She was certain she didn't want to marry Lord Greenfield. And she was certain that she absolutely hated the man he had sent to fetch her to him.
Part III
"What in God's name did she say to get you so riled?" Thom shouted to Kier as he urged his horse to a trot. Moving level with his friend, Thom instantly noticed that his handsome face still wore an angry scowl.
"It doesn't bear repeating," Kier answered in a tone that Thom recognized as an indication the subject was closed.
But as the two traveled the road behind Isabella's large pony, Kier wondered how he would handle the situation of escorting his employer's bride through the four-day journey home.
He had expected coolness, reluctance - even belligerence. But the outright hostility of this young woman had taken him by surprise. Kier also wasn't comfortable with her riding ahead of him, but hoped by letting her to stay apart she would calm herself down.
But his patience, he decided, wouldn't last for long. He had been ordered to return with a compliant bride-to-be for Lord Greenfield, and while the old man had not exactly said so Kier knew that order meant he should do whatever it took - within reason - to gain that compliance. And while he didn't want to traumatize the girl, he vowed he wouldn't return home with a sullen brat who would bring shame to his employer.
The trio rode on as the sun rose in the sky, with Kier keeping a watchful eye on Isabella. With each passing hour, he expected her to show some sign of fatigue. But she stayed always several paces ahead, her shoulders and back as straight as they were when her pony had first jogged from the gates of her father's yard.
Finally, he decided that even if she wasn't ready to stop the horses probably were. Kicking his large gray stallion to a canter he pulled alongside the girl.
"That pony of yours would likely appreciate some water," he said, pointing to a stream about ten yards from the path.
Without responding, Isabella looked in the direction of his gesture. When she spoke it was not to him but to her horse. "What do you say, Venus? Are you thirsty?"
As the horses grazed in a small meadow after their drink, Thom unpacked a light lunch of bread, fruit and cheese. The two men sat together, but Isabella removed herself to sit on a tree stump. As she nibbled her food daintily she looked out towards the horses as if deep in thought. Since the outburst at the manor, she hadn't said a word and Kier felt relieved that she now seemed more subdued.
"What do you suppose is going on in that pretty head," Thom asked Kier. "She looks awful sad."
"I suspect she's resigned herself to the fact that her new life is set to begin," he told his companion. "I know it's probably hard for her. She is a headstrong girl, it seems, and I'm sure it was quite an affront to her dignity to have her adulthood scripted, even if she is just a female. I suppose the reality of her situation has finally sunk in."
He couldn't have been further off in his assessment; Isabella was miles away from accepting her fate. In fact, her expression wasn't one of sadness but of concentration as she mentally worked out the kinks in her plot to escape the two men and the destiny she never would have picked for herself.
