Page 375 of Redemption Arc Romance

Brandt sighed faintly, unconsciousness clutching at him. He was so very, very weak, but Ellowyn’s words rang about in his hazed mind.

“My son,” he whispered. “Does he look… like me?”

Ellowyn smiled, tears pooling in her eyes. “He looks just like me.”

It was a tease. Even in his current state, Brandt knew that. But Ellowyn had been correct. The knowledge of his son, of his loving wife, gave him the will to fight. He couldn’t even think of the fact that she had made a dangerous journey to be with him. The fact that she would risk herself so was not surprising. She was a brave and astonishing woman, and he loved her more with every beat of his heart.

“I love you, my sweet husband,” Ellowyn whispered in his ear. “You are my sweet angel. Sleep, now. I will be here when you awaken.”

His big fingers found hers and he held her hand tightly as he drifted away. Thoughts of the day they met in London flashed through his mind, thinking on the first time he ever laid eyes on her. She had been so very beautiful and so very angry. The thought of it brought a smile to his lips. He wondered if their children would have the same hair-trigger temper. He hoped he would find out many times over.

The Black Angel had done his duty for king and country. Now, he had his own life to live.

EPILOGUE

“Die!” the childcried. “Die already! I have killed you!”

A big lad with dark hair and dark eyes pointed the stick in his hand imperiously at a similar looking child slightly younger than he was. But the younger boy shook his head stubbornly.

“You didnotkill me,” he said. “I am the evil black knight and you cannot kill me. I am holding your children hostage! Fight me!”

The big lad with the stick frowned terribly. At six years of age, he was rather large for a boy of his years. He was also good with a sword, or really a stick, during the times his mother didn’t know he was using one. She didn’t allow them to strike at each other with sticks and she wouldn’t let them have real swords. It made it difficult to play battle games if they weren’t allowed to be armed.

So they had to plan their play times in secret, for example, during times when they were supposed to be napping. It was easy to slip past their fat nurse, who would fall into a heavy sleep in the afternoons. At this moment, his younger brother by one year was holding their little brother and sister hostage. In reality, the two and three year old children were sitting on top of a hay pile in the stables, but in their minds, it was a great castle. Now the great castle was under siege and the two older boys began smacking each other with their sticks. It was deadly battle.

Next door in the main part of the stable block, Brandt had been inspecting three new chargers purchased in Caen, recently shipped to Guildford when he heard the smacking going on. Thehorses were nervous enough without the sounds so, lured by the noise, Brandt went in search of the source.

Standing in the entry with his hands on his hips, he watched his older sons whack each other with long sticks. On a pile of fresh hay behind them were the two younger children, a three year old boy with his mother’s golden red hair and a daughter that looked like her father. Brandt watched the older boys swing away at each other.

“Aramis? Trenton?” he called to them. “What are you doing?”

The boys came to a halt, turning to their father with innocent faces. They lowered their sticks. “Playing, Father,” Aramis, the oldest boy, said. “I am fighting Trenton to rescue Edward and Isabeau.”

“They need rescuing?”

Trenton nodded emphatically. Younger than Aramis by fourteen months, he was the most aggressive of the four children.

“I am the evil black knight,” he told his father. “If Aramis wants to rescue Edward and Isabeau, he must fight me.”

“I see,” Brandt said, coming into the stable. “Where is your nurse?”

“Sleeping,” Trenton said defiantly.

“Aren’t you all supposed to be sleeping as well?”

Trenton frowned. “We are not tired,” he declared. “Only babies sleep. We are not babies.”

Brandt looked over at Edward and Isabeau, who were reclining on the hay pile, yawning. “Look at your brother and sister over there,” he said, pointing. “They are babies and they are tired. Let’s take them back to the keep where they may have their nap.”

He started to move but Trenton turned the stick on him. “If you want them, you must fight me for them.”

Brandt came to a halt and put his hands up to show he was unarmed. “I have no weapon, evil black knight. Will you let me pass?”

“Nay,” Trenton barked. “You must fight me.”

With a shrug, Brandt moved towards Trenton, who started whacking at his father with the stick. Brandt caught the stick easily, and his son, and grabbed the boy around the waist so he was facing away from his father. Thoroughly angry, Trenton started to kick and howl. That brought Aramis running, who began whacking at his father’s backside with his stick. Brandt yanked the stick away and tossed it, causing Aramis to plow into the back of his father’s legs.

The man lost his balance and fell to his knees. Once down, Aramis began jumping gleefully on him while Trenton managed to wriggle free.