A Promise of Tomorrow

by Aston, Alexa

  His fingers tightened on her jaw to the point of pain but she remained stoic.

  “I trust that you will make the right decision, Marielle. The one in your best interest. You have no wish to burn at the stake as a witch. Or hang for murder. You will wed me because no one would believe your story. Everyone would believe mine.”

  He loosened his grip and his fingers caressed her cheek. “You will be mine, Marielle. You will provide me with physical pleasure multiple times a day. You will give birth to my heir. I believe we will be blessed with many children.

  “Or your days on this earth shall be numbered.”

  She understood Marc held all the power. He could make his assertions to the magistrate. His lies would break her. Yet she fought capitulating to him, the idea of spending the rest of her life with such a loathsome man controlling her every action terrifying.

  “And if I choose not to wed you?” She tried to keep the defiant edge from her tone but heard it come through nevertheless.

  He stroked her cheek lightly. “I would hate to be the one that started—or confirmed—any rumors we just discussed.” His eyes glittered with both lust and greed.

  “So what will it be, Marielle? Will you wed me or suffer the consequences?”

  Chapter Ten

  Marielle took a calming breath as the priest chanted in Latin. His tones soothed her like nothing else had since Marc came to her bed with his offer of marriage. The thought made her stomach queasy again, though no food has passed her lips today.

  Many vineyard workers and servants had gathered to see Jean-Paul de la Tresse put to rest. He’d been a steady figure known to his people. Marielle had desperately wanted to get word to Ashby yesterday when Marc made it known that Jean-Paul died in the night despite the ministrations of his fair wife. She guessed Marc knew she would try to do so when she suggested sending a rider to the Bouchards with the message of Jean-Paul’s sudden death.

  “No, my Marielle,” he said in gentle tones. “The Bouchards need not come to the funeral mass. Robert and Pierre were not especially close to Jean-Paul.”

  “But Cadena—”

  “Cadena Bouchard could comfort you no better than I.” His gaze pierced her. “I would think that family would be all you wanted right now.” He put a reassuring arm about her and she forced herself not to shy away.

  “Maybe if Maman and—”

  “I did send word to your parents. I know it’s been years since you have seen them. At their age, though, it would be far too long a journey for them to undertake. Besides, we will bury Jean-Paul long before they could arrive.”

  Marielle had pleaded with Marc. “Mayhap I could go for a short visit to see them.” She hoped he would think they would marry upon her return.

  He said as much. “I suppose I see no harm in a brief visit. Then you would return home for our marriage?” He brooded upon that for a minute. “That might be acceptable.”

  They’d left it at that. Marielle was in a quandary. Should she go to Libourne and then refuse to return? She could take her jewels with her and after seeing her parents, she could go directly outside the city to the nuns at Sisters of Merciful Heart. Once inside, Marc would have no way of forcing her to the altar.

  Oh, why hadn’t her husband given her a son? Marielle wouldn’t be in such a difficult position now if that were the case. With no heir, the Monteville lands and title of comte now reverted to Marc, Jean-Paul’s closest male relative. As custom allowed, Marielle should be able to live her remaining days in her home under Marc’s protection. With Marc threating that she might be implicated in Jean-Paul’s death, though, she must leave for the nunnery and the sanctuary it provided.

  Yet what her heart cried out for her to do was head straight for Chateau Branais and find Ashby fitz Waryn. She was free now. They could return to England and marry. Marc de la Tresse be damned!

  Sudden doubts plagued Marielle. Would the dashing Englishman even want to wed her? Even though he acted as a gentleman and stopped their indiscretion after two searing kisses, they had been passionate ones. They moved Marielle to her very soul. Surely it was not a simple flirtation on Ashby’s part. No two people could share such an experience without wanting to be together forever. Could they?

  She must proceed as if she knew Ashby had definite feelings for her. She must believe that he would act upon those feelings once he knew she was now a widow, especially one in danger of being falsely accused of murder. If her instincts proved incorrect, then she hoped the dashing Englishman would see her to the convent’s gates.

  The trouble was how to get word to Ashby without arousing Marc’s suspicions. Surely, he would find out if she said she were going in one direction and then took another. Marc had already mentioned providing her with an armed guard to escort her to Libourne. It would leave in two days’ time though it would head in the opposite direction of the Bouchards and Chateau Branais.

  Her mind continued its scattered whirl through the rest of the funeral mass and burial. Marielle thought things hopeless. Marc remained closely by her as they returned to the chateau and he now escorted her into the great hall for the midday meal.

  “I find I must go to Biarritz for a couple of weeks. Business of Jean-Paul’s which is unavoidable. A messenger arrived just this morning. Will that trouble you, ma chère?

  Marielle’s heart almost leaped from within her from sheer joy. She tamped down her excitement and calmly replied, “You must attend to the business at hand, Marc. Jean-Paul was very conscientious about all affairs regarding Monteville. I would expect you to do no less.”

  He led her to the dais and sat beside her. “Then I will do as my brother’s widow requests. Do you still plan to visit your parents?”

  Marielle frowned. “I may. I may not. I hate to leave if you are to be gone, too. Whatever you think best, Marc. I trust your judgment.”

  She knew she’d fed his ego as he visibly puffed up. “I would see no problem with you going as planned. In fact, it might do you some good.”

  Marielle sighed. “It will take me a day or two to have my things prepared for the trip. I must think of gifts to bring both of my parents. I would not arrive without them.”

  “Do as you see fit.” Marc drained the wine from his cup and motioned a servant for more.

  She contained her growing excitement and listlessly stared at the trencher. “Marc?”

  He turned and studied her. “What is it?”

  “I find I have no appetite after burying my husband. I would rather go and lie down for a while. I can always have something brought to my chamber later if I grow hungry.”

  “Suit yourself. I will leave after this noon meal at any rate.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marielle rose and walked slowly across the great hall, wishing she could skip across as a child might. She ascended the stairs to her room and shut the door. Only then did she break into a smile.

  First, she must pack. She wouldn’t carry much in the way of clothing. She would take her small casket, however. Every piece of jewelry Jean-Paul had given her would go in it. Marielle nervously paced her room, collecting her thoughts. Then she went to the window and looked down into the yard. She would wait for Marc to leave before she acted.

  Thoughts of her brother-in-law bursting in upon her with some last minute instructions caused her to pause. She had no lock upon her chamber door, and even if she could lock it, she might raise Marc’s suspicions. No, she would still her racing heart and gain control of her emotions. She would plan what must be done as soon as Marc left the walls of Monteville.

  She only waited a quarter-hour before she saw Marc ride out with three other knights accompanying him. It was safe to put her plan into action.

  Quickly, Marielle assembled what she wanted into the container. Everything fit nicely. She removed a small leather satchel which would easily hold the casket. No one could see it with her cloak wrapped about her and she could tie it to Jezebel’s saddle.

  She then removed her surcoat
and cotehardie and placed a second kirtle over the first she already wore. She replaced the cotehardie and then layered another one on top of it. The surcoat went back on top of it all. It was a bit bulky but once her cloak was placed over it all, it would be easy to hide her extra layers of clothing.

  Marielle looked about her chamber, wishing she could take her books along. They would be too cumbersome, though. She took out one from under her pillow and stroked it fondly. Many times, it had served as a close friend during her lonely hours. With regret, she slipped it back into its hiding place and went to the window.

  All she needed now was for Ashby to cooperate. She pushed that thought aside. If he refused to aid her, she would then make her way to Libourne and go to her parents as originally planned. She wanted to see them once more before she went to Sisters of Merciful Heart.

  Marielle made her way downstairs and told a page to go to the stables and have her horse saddled. She passed Etienne and thought it best to tell him her whereabouts.

  “I am going to pay a call to the Bouchards and inform them of Jean-Paul’s death. Marc had not thought it necessary but I would like them to know.”

  The steward nodded. “They will be grateful for your visit, la comtesse.”

  “I’m also to visit my parents in Libourne.”

  Etienne nodded. “Le comte informed me of your plans and asked that I have a guard assembled to accompany you the day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marielle left and found the horse already awaiting her. Thanks to its close proximity, she had never taken a guard with her on her visits to Chateau Branais. She looked about for anything out of the ordinary, trying to determine if anyone was watching her. Fortunately, Marc had no close friends at Monteville. His rudeness toward servants and knights alike now worked in her favor. She doubted he would have anyone spying on her actions while he was gone. He wasn’t bright enough to have thought of it in the first place. If he had, she was confident no one would follow through. Things might change as he assumed the reins of Monteville upon his return but, for now, Marielle felt safe.

  “Have the watchman lower the bridge for me,” she told the eager page who held her horse. “I go to visit with our neighbors, the Bouchards, and plan to tell them of my husband’s death.”

  The boy was off and running before he’d even helped her mount her horse. Marielle tied the heavy satchel containing her casket to the saddle and then used the steps leading down into the bailey to mount Jezebel. She settled herself nicely and held her head high. She wanted to draw no suspicion and strove to act as if nothing were out of place.

  As she approached, the bridge was lowered for her. She gave a wave to the guards along the wall-walk and in the tower and set out at a gentle trot. She passed workers in the vineyards and waved at a few of them, too.

  Marielle kept repeating to herself under her breath, “You are calm. You are tranquil. You are in control of this situation. You can do this. You must do this.” The words did soothe her and she began to relax as she rode further away from Monteville.

  That estate and Chateau Branais literally touched one other so it was difficult to tell when she’d left the first behind and come upon the latter. She did see riders on the road before her. She recognized Cadena’s horse before she did Cadena herself.

  Marielle waved to them and spurred Jezebel on. They met in the middle. It was both Cadena and her husband, Robert. Marielle looked at her old friends for the first time with new eyes. These two were the parents of the wonderful Madeleine, Lady Montayne, whom Ashby seemed to admire quite a bit.

  “Oh, my dear,” said Cadena. She leaned over and hugged Marielle carefully. “I am so sorry to hear about Jean-Paul. It was sudden, was it not?”

  “Yes. He complained of jarring stomach pains that night. By morning, he was dead.”

  “One of your workers told one of ours. We just now heard the news,” Robert Bouchard said gruffly. “We would have come to the funeral mass this morning if we’d known earlier.”

  Marielle bit her lip. She needed to be diplomatic. It was a very tricky situation to let the Bouchards know how she valued their friendship without seeming to turn them against Marc.

  Robert scratched his chin in thought. “Never mind. Your silence confirms what I told Cadena. We weren’t informed because of that bloody Marc de la Tresse.”

  Bloody? Marielle wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, other than it had been Marc’s fault.

  Cadena threw her husband a look. “Robert, you are not to use that word outside the house. I have warned you about it before.”

  Robert looked surprisingly sheepish. Marielle glanced back at Cadena.

  “I have told you I hail from England originally, my dear. Well, I taught Robert a word or two of English that he had not previously known. Let us say he is not very happy with Marc de la Tresse at the moment.”

  “Zut! Of course, I am not happy with the oaf. Not telling his own neighbors his brother has passed away? Unthinkable.” Robert cleared his throat. “Anyway, we were on our way to see you and express our sincere condolences for such a loss.”

  “Thank you,” Marielle said quietly. She treasured the Bouchards and wished she had seen more of them over the years. If their Madeleine was as gracious and kind as her parents were, she deserved Ashby’s praise.

  “I was on my way to see you. And your guest,” she added.

  “Ashby?” Cadena smiled. “That boy would charm the horns from the Devil himself. I am sorry to say he has just left us to return to England.”

  Marielle’s smile faltered. “He’s already gone?”

  “Yes,” Robert said. “He left about the same time we did from Branais. He was headed up to Pauillac. He will take the Gironde from there to the Bay of Biscay and, from there, make his way to London.”

  She took a deep breath. “Then I must plead with you not to mention you saw me or gave me that information.”

  Cadena’s eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

  “It’s much too long to tell now, Cadena. Suffice it to say Marc plans to force me to wed him in a few weeks. I am foolishly pinning all my hopes on Ashby to help extricate me from that situation.”

  She knew she was blessed with these friends when Robert quickly asked, “Shall I ride with you on the road he took? Ashby could not be more than ten minutes ahead.”

  “That is kind of you, but no. I do not want anyone blaming you for helping me to escape.”

  Robert looked upon her in a fatherly manner. “Then I shall send a servant to Monteville in two hours’ time and tell them you are dining with us tonight. That we have extended an invitation for you to stay the night and share your sorrows with us.”

  Marielle looked at him in surprise. “You would do that for me?”

  Robert’s lips trembled. “I made a mistake years ago with my own daughter, Madeleine. I sent her into a marriage with a man so horrible that she eventually fled his home.”

  He took Marielle’s hand in his. “I would not see another such marriage come to pass.”

  Robert reviewed with her once again which way to ride as Cadena stroked her arm as a loving mother might.

  “May the Living Christ be with you,” Cadena called out and Marielle spurred her horse on.

  If ever her riding skills came in handy, this would be the one day, the one hour, she would most need them. She whispered her own prayer in her mind and rode as if the Devil himself pursued her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ashby rode at an easy gait, his horse responsive to direction. The infected hoof that afflicted Lightning had healed during his time in France. He was glad to be on his own mount again and not a borrowed steed. He would need to ride a little over twelve miles to reach Pauillac, where a small vessel awaited him.

  Garrett insisted on keeping the ship there. Relations between England and France were strained ever since Edward claimed the French throne over Philip. The Flemish rebellion and subsequent alliance with England only aggravated matters. Thoug
h Garrett deemed it safe enough for Ashby to travel to Bordeaux, he wanted a quick means of escape for his friend in case he found himself in dire straits. With England’s domination of the Channel, Ashby knew he would be safe once he boarded the ship for England and it pushed away from France.

  While his body might return to his homeland, Ashby would leave his heart in France’s wine country, in the hands of a woman he barely knew and yet loved with a fierce passion. No woman had come close to stealing his heart before now. With just a few impish smiles, Marielle de la Tresse had taken his very soul into her hands.

  And he would never see her again.

  Of course, he promised the Bouchards he’d come again, bringing Madeleine and Garrett and the children with him when he called. He told them a thousand stories of their daughter and her happy life at Stanbury. Robert and Cadena already seemed like family to him. He would regret not seeing them in the future.

  Yet how could he? He could not trust himself to land on French soil again—else he’d foolishly challenge Jean-Paul de la Tresse to a duel. He had wild fantasies about sweeping Marielle away with him. That was an impossible dream. Where would a third son, landless and untitled, take a married, wealthy comtesse? If his heart wasn’t breaking, the situation would almost be comical.

  No, he would return to Stanbury and continue his work for Garrett. He knew his place there. He would keep his hands and his mind busy. He would make do. Ashby idly thought about a comely widow in the village nearby. Mayhap he would pay a call upon her when he returned.

  He shrugged the idea off, the thought leaving his mouth like sand. No woman appealed to him at this moment. He doubted one ever would.

  Sudden hoof beats interrupted his thoughts. Immediately, Ashby was alert. He pulled around and stilled his horse, peering down the road he’d just ridden. He saw a single horse in the distance, a small dot on the horizon. The rider was skilled; the speed, incredible.