The Duke of Garwood and His Bride

PROLOGUE

The story contains violent and intimate scenes that are not suitable for young readers. Reader's discretion is advised.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events and places is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system without a written permission from the author, unless permitted by law.

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PROLOGUE

“What are you looking at?” King Charles asked his younger brother from one of the battlements in their training grounds just outside London.

“Your knights, Charles.” The young man answered, jerking his head toward the men engaged in combat on the grounds.

“What about them?” he asked, resting his gaze on a particular group that his brother had pointed out.

“You seemed to favor them over the others.” He noted with a hint of sarcasm.

“Ah…” Charles nodded understandingly. “They’re Lord Hemsworth’s boys. You know Hemsworth, right?” he nudged his younger brother. When he nodded, “They’re also like my own brothers.” He uttered with pride.

“I quite noticed that. You seemed to be very fond of those kids.” He said dryly.

Charles put an arm over his brother’s shoulders. “Hemsworth had been most loyal to me. Even his family had been behind me all these times. They had protected me and the country. I feel deeply indebted to them. The Langleys had risked so much for me and the crown. Even for you. Being too fond and loyal to them is also the least I can do.” he explained.

“You are their king. They owe you that!” he pointed out.

“True. But I am also the king of those who had betrayed me. I am everyone’s king but not everyone is willing to sacrifice for me." he mused regretfully. "Look, as much as I am fond of those boys, you’re still more important to me than they are. Hmm?” he said, trying to placate his jealousy. The young man nodded again and tried to reassure the king with a smile. “Why don’t you go down there and be friends with those boys? They are really nice. You’ll also learn a lot from their combat skills.” Charles coaxed. “Come on. One of them must be your age too. I’m sure you’ll get along.” The king tugged his brother along and led him down to the training grounds. His brother had always been too sensitive over his attention. The young man had always been insecure that he needed to be constantly reassured that he will not be left all alone once again. For him, he was the only family he had.

Rayne had always lived a life of shame and seclusion. He had always felt unwelcome and unwanted. He was orphaned by a young mother who fought for her dear life to breathe for her only son. But her disease won over her. Rayne was left all alone to mourn. Until his father, who was nothing more than a stranger to him, dragged the young boy into a home that never wanted him. He was abused and tortured by a step-mother who despised him and treated him no less than a vermin.

*********

Rayne watched the warriors’ parade of swordplay as he idled along the sidelines, enjoying himself as a spectator. Their faces exuded fierceness and feistiness. Their arms swung with power and skill. Their bodies boast their prowess and size. Charles’ army was a force to reckon with. They practiced relentlessly from sunup to sundown. Their dedication was insurmountable. And the Langleys were the core of His Majesty's corps.

Rayne walked carefully along the sidelines, careful not to get in the way of the knights displaying their prowess. He moved around and studied their skills with the sword. They seemed to dance in tune with the music of their courage. He wanted to earn the same expertise they had. He had been tutored by one of Charles’s best swordsmen. But he still felt inadequate as a soldier. He had to augment his ability to wield the sword and join Charles’s army in all their campaigns, without worrying his brother. Charles advised him to train with the Langley men as their fighting skills were unparalleled. Charles had his full trust in them and probably he could too. If only he could stop being jealous of them over his brother's attention.

He sought the Langley men around the training grounds, but they seemed to be nowhere. He dropped on one of the wooden benches to wait for any of the Langleys. But hours dragged by and not one came by. He wanted to watch the Langleys train in the hope that he might pick out their tactics. He could study them from a distance and probably mimic their moves. Time passed and still no Langley came by, he decided to take a walk through the nearby woods for a breath of fresh air. He could hear the rush of water in the stream. He must have walked far enough. He stopped a moment and rolled his breeches up to his knees. He could wade into the waters and try to catch some fish with his arrows. He smiled and raced down the stream with his bow and arrow out. He stalked his prey and took good aim at fish swimming by. Once the target was in sight, he released his arrow. He scrambled to retrieve his shot only to find it empty of its target. He launched one more arrow and found it empty once more. He kicked the waters exasperatingly. He blew out a breath and tried to aim once more at the passing fish but a stray arrow came whizzing by before he could release his arrow. Following where the arrow had landed, he saw a small fish skewered by it. He grabbed the arrow peevishly and looked around for any sign of an intruder. No one was in sight.

“Reveal yourself!” he hollered out loud and his gaze swept his surroundings. Bow in hand lodged with an arrow, he took a defensive stance in case of an ambush. Beads of perspiration trickled down his temples. He then heard a rustling from one of the large trees a few yards away from the stream. Then a tall figure jumped off the tree. The figure wore deep brown trousers and a lighter shade of brown shirt. Focusing his gaze on the figure standing by the stream, he recognized the fair-skinned, red-haired lad as one of the Langleys. His flaming red hair was one distinct Langley mark. He stormed his way toward the young boy and grabbed him by the shirt. “Did you realize what you just did?” he snarled, tugging the boy from his shirt. He was very angry at his intrusion. He felt very ashamed of his mediocre ability to use his bow and arrows.

The young lad stared at him defiantly, his green eyes burnt with anger, yet he replied with dead calm. “I thought you needed help.”

“I didn’t ask you! Arrogant fool!” he snarled and shoved him to the ground. “Don’t let me catch you meddling in my business, Lanky Langley!”

Puzzled at his reaction, the young lad stood and dusted off his soiled pants. He watched the retreating back of the king’s brother and glared at him. No wonder no one liked him. No wonder he was always alone unless the king was around.