Her Banished Knight's Redemption--The follow-up to award-winning story the Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  Me...you can’t take the place of me, for the love of God.

  ‘Besides, you cannot even be sure that this man, this William Geraint, is who he says he is.’

  Isabel knew, however—she knew the moment he had started talking to her during the dance—that it was her long-lost hero. But Heloise didn’t need to know that.

  Isabel had been in a muddle since Will Geraint’s arrival at the feast, which was why she had avoided him since. She didn’t want this reminder of her past and had to try to get the man to leave their village. Either that, or be forced to leave herself, if only temporarily.

  ‘Being a noble lady isn’t all that you think it is, Heloise.’

  ‘And how would you know? You’re an orphan like me.’

  Isabel grabbed her sister’s arm. ‘Yes, exactly. What of the family who have raised us? Who have done everything for us? You are just going abandon them?’

  ‘They’ll get over it, especially with the coin that Sir William has offered them.’

  ‘What?’ Isabel whispered softly. ‘They would give you up so easily? For money?’

  Did everything in life have to always come down to that? Money and greed? Did her father want her to resume her former obligations so badly that he would go to such lengths? Naturally, he would. But why now after all this time? Oh, how she hated that everything had changed since William Geraint’s arrival in St Jean de Cole.

  ‘Of course. Everyone has a price. Besides, I want to leave.’ Heloise pursed her lips.

  ‘You’ll not be leaving if you cannot convince the man,’ Isabel said, turning to catch her sister up. ‘And I don’t know how you shall. You don’t know anything about the real Isabel de Clancey. And what about her family? They’ll know you are not her.’

  Heloise shrugged. ‘I’ll think of something by then. I don’t really care as long as I can get away from St Jean de Cole. As for William Geraint—there are other ways to persuade him.’

  Isabel exhaled slowly, hoping to regain some of her composure. At least they were alone in this secluded part of the village. Thank God, or else the whole village would be shocked by their discourse.

  ‘Oh, Lord, he’s coming!’

  Isabel swung around, frowning. ‘What? Who?’

  ‘The man himself, of course—William Geraint,’ Heloise said from the side of her mouth as she straightened her spine, smoothed her sheer veil and curled her lips into a ready smile. ‘How do I look?’

  This? This was what Heloise was prioritising, at a time like this?

  But for her sister, her appearance when a handsome, young knight was approaching was of utmost importance. Her confidence in herself was staggering.

  ‘Good morrow, ladies,’ he said in a pleasant tone as he halted in front of them.

  Isabel ignored him, but naturally her sister did not. ‘Oh, good morrow, Sir William. I hope you are well?’

  He scratched his head in a way that reminded Isabel of the boy she remembered.

  ‘As well as can be expected. My sojourn at the home of local farmers means I am woken with alarming regularity.’

  ‘How unfortunate for you, messere,’ Isabel said, raising a brow. ‘Although as a soldier I would have thought you would be used to erratic, broken sleep. I thought it would be deemed necessary training for you to be ready for any eventuality.’

  He smirked. ‘Oh, I’m always ready for that.’

  ‘What I meant was that if it was so bothersome, you could always leave.’

  He grinned. ‘True, but not until I have completed my task of facilitating the journey back to England...for Lady Isabel,’ he said, keeping his eyes locked on to hers.

  His facilitation of the journey back to her real family was more a coercion than anything else. Subtle, courteous, and well meaning, but resolutely and single-mindedly a coercion.

  Since the feast, wherever Isabel went, wherever she was going, he was there, waiting and watching her, letting her know in every way that he was not fooled by her. It was grinding her down slowly, this intrusion into her inner peace, and she felt weary of it and weary of him.

  Will Geraint’s presence in St Jean de Cole had dredged up long-forgotten recollections of what had happened that day. Distant memories of muffled voices, all merged together with the grisly events of the ambush all those years ago. They played repeatedly in her mind. It made Isabel feel restless and her sleep had been disturbed these past few nights but from more worrying reasons than a few noisy farm animals.

  Isabel had thought she had put the past behind her, she had thought she no longer needed to worry, but it was strange how the past could suddenly push itself back into the fore. Those distant memories of life in England might be fragmented, much of it overshadowed by what happened when she journeyed to France, but she could recall the reasons for that journey.

  Her father had sought to forge new alliances after his fall from grace with King John and the only way to do that was to bring forward Isabel’s arranged betrothal. Although she was a child at the time and too young to actually marry, she had been old enough to leave her family to live with her betrothed’s. But, of course, it never came to pass and Isabel had spent the last twelve years forgetting about it.

  That betrothal was most likely now broken, thank God, but it did not mean her father would not want to use her in another way once again. And this was what she wanted to know from the man stood in front of her.

  Why now?

  Why had her family not come for her before when she needed them, when she was a lost little girl in a strange land? Had she never mattered to them at all? Yet, she knew she couldn’t ask William Geraint any of this. There was a part of her that didn’t want to find out the truth, knowing it could hurt her again.

  She gave a small shiver and lifted her head. ‘Well, I’m sorry you have had a wasted journey to St Jean de Cole, messere.’

  ‘He has not, since he’s found me—Lady Isabel de Clancey,’ Heloise muttered through gritted teeth.

  ‘Indeed.’ William Geraint kept his eyes locked on to Isabel’s, with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

  Just as when they had danced together, his piercing gaze made her knees feel a little weak. Made her feel a little breathless. He was certainly handsome, but there was more to him than just that, some unknown quality behind that penetrating gaze. He intrigued her, even though he really shouldn’t.

  Isabel wondered again whether he was really the same boy who had rescued her a lifetime ago. The memory of his kindness etched on to her mind had been replaced by this man’s mocking tone. For the first time since his appearance at the feast, Isabel wondered what had happened to him in the intervening years since boyhood. What had happened to that young, caring squire she remembered or had she made far too much of the boy-hero? She could not have. William Geraint had, without a thought for his own safety, saved her life.

  She gave herself a mental shake.

  ‘As I said before, I’m not sure why you remain here in our little village that sadly provides you with an inadequate place to rest and sleep, when your search had proved unsuccessful.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ he said, raising his brow.

  Again, that gaze of his was making her feel a little on edge. It conveyed that he didn’t believe a word she said.

  God, but every time Isabel encountered this man, she somehow reinforced and strengthened his belief that she was Lady Isabel de Clancey. And just as every other time, she had to get away. She couldn’t stay and be reminded of what she owed her real family, her duty to them. Oh, yes, the doubt and guilt were slowly gnawing at her.

  She took a step in an attempt to get away. Far away. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

  He caught her arm gently, the warmth of his fingers sending a shot of unexpected awareness through her.

  ‘I do not mean to cause you any distress. I am only here for one purpose and
one purpose only.’

  ‘Ah, but consider, messere, that your purpose is the very thing that is the cause of my distress.’

  He raised a brow. ‘Why?’

  ‘Not everyone desires to be found, Sir William, or for that matter welcomes their old life back,’ she hissed under her breath.

  ‘Again, I must ask why?’

  She clenched her fists at her side. ‘I do not have to explain anything. I am not answerable to you, or anyone else, for that matter.’

  ‘Is that what this is about?’ He narrowed his gaze as Heloise looked from one to the other of them.

  They stared at each other for a moment longer, neither backing down before a new voice broke their silence.

  ‘Good morrow, is everyone well?’

  They all turned to see Ralph coming towards them, allowing Isabel a little time to calm her jangled nerves.

  ‘Ah, if it’s not the hero of this saintly village,’ William Geraint muttered.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘What does that make you, messere? The villain?’

  ‘No, my lady.’ He leant towards her. ‘I would rather hope not.’

  She ignored him and smiled at her friend instead, grateful that he had come by when he had.

  The situation seemed hopeless now it was clear there was no way that William Geraint was going to leave St Jean de Cole without her. Isabel had to think of something. She had to find another way. Although the annoyingly handsome knight might not be a villain, he was still intent on taking her back to her father, back to her family. And the thought of that made her apprehensive.

  She remembered when she had pleaded with her father not to send her away from everything she had known and loved, how he had reprimanded her and scolded her for attempting to evade her familial duty. Despite her pleas he had sent her away all those years ago. Now, he wanted her back?

  Well, it was too late.

  * * *

  Will sighed and looked to the heavens.

  Oh, God give him strength! The woman was going to try to evade him again. She was going to continue her denial and frustrate his attempts of completing this damnable mission. And this time she would use the young man who had just joined them, judging by the pleading looks she had sent her friend.

  Why?

  The irony was not lost on Will that the woman whom he believed to be—no, knew to be—Lady Isabel de Clancey was reluctant to take up her birthright, unlike all the other pretenders he had contended with before. He had thought that if he were lucky enough to find the heiress, she would be happy and overjoyed at the opportunity to be finally reunited with her real family.

  Not so...

  There was something deeply troubling about Lady Isabel. On the one hand, he could understand that she might feel anxious and even a little resentful towards her family. After all, they had readily believed that she was dead, without any proper investigation. But then, with wars, separation and the Baron’s conflict that had plagued England during King John’s reign, it was no wonder that her family had given up on her. Will sighed as he studied Lady Isabel further.

  He had always been perceptive about people and was especially good at understanding them after careful observation. Their foibles, the little nuances, and the expression in their movement and conversation—all painted a picture about any given person. And more times than not, this always betrayed their inner fears, desires and thoughts. That was even before they started to speak candidly to him, which was another thing he was good at. Making people talk. Extremely useful when he was gathering information for William Marshal and the Crown.

  But with Isabel de Clancey, Will had no need to do any of that. It hadn’t been necessary. He knew immediately who she was, the moment he had danced with her at the feast. It was her eyes that had given her away. He hadn’t realised that he would recall how unusual they were, but as soon as he saw her, he remembered. He recalled how expressive her hazel eyes were and how one eye had a streak of dark brown across it, making each eye unique and beautiful.

  Her denial of who she was intrigued him, though. With closer observation Will realised that she was frightened about something, not necessarily of him, but certainly by the prospect of going home.

  This, he couldn’t understand. He had not even managed to relay the importance of why she was needed back in England, or the fact that she was now an heiress since her father and brothers were dead.

  Will had wanted to tell her, but their conversations had never moved beyond her repudiating who she was.

  Hell’s teeth, she was rattled and it worried him. He never wanted any woman to have this reaction in his company, but it was his mission to find her and to return her home. He would do it, yet he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable about doing so.

  He gave himself a mental shake, reminding himself that this was not his problem. She was not his problem. Whatever Lady Isabel’s feelings, they were not his concern and he would do well to remember that. He had a job to do and he would see it through.

  But first Will had to thwart whatever scheme she was about to employ to elude him.

  * * *

  Later, in the dead of night, Isabel paced around the chamber that she shared with her sister on the top floor of the mill house. She heard the clink of a pebble against the wooden shutter.

  ‘Ralph? Is that you?’ Isabel opened the arched window in the small chamber. She had been waiting impatiently after gathering her meagre belongings and now the time to put her plan in motion had finally arrived. She would leave St Jean de Cole for a nearby village where she had friends and wait until William Geraint left for good. Only then would she return home. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best she could come up with, with only an afternoon to make arrangements.

  ‘Yes.’ She heard his whisper from outside and looked down to the ground below to see her friend waving at her. ‘I’m going to throw this rope up at you, Adela, and I want you to catch it. Make sure you secure it to something sturdy that will take your weight,’ he said.

  She nodded and leant out of the window.

  Ralph threw her the rope, but it failed to reach anywhere near the height it needed to. The second attempt fared better, but this time she floundered. However, the third attempt proved successful, as Ralph propelled the rope high enough for Isabel to grab on to it before it fell back down. She wound it around the brass handle of both sides of the coffer before tugging at it a few times to make sure it was secure. Then, with a heavy sigh, Isabel looked around the room and crept towards Heloise, who was fast asleep and snoring lightly.

  ‘I’ll come back soon,’ Isabel muttered, more to herself than her slumbering sister. A promissory oath that she hoped to God she could keep.

  She then grabbed her leather satchel, strode to the window sill, sat and swung her legs around so that they were suspended from the great height, then threw the satchel down. Clasping the rope tightly, Isabel curled her legs around it and let go of the security of the window sill. She started to climb down, but realised her descent wasn’t progressing as well as it should.

  Dear God, she felt she was about to plummet to the ground!

  What on earth was going on? Ralph didn’t seem to be holding the end of the rope and it was swinging around, frantically. As was she.

  ‘Ralph? For goodness sake, hold on to it firmly so I can get down. Ralph... Ralph?’

  Isabel heard his muffled voice from below. ‘Hold on. I won’t let you fall.’

  She didn’t dare look down. The rope was swinging round so much that Isabel found it increasingly difficult to get a proper footing on it to climb down safely.

  Oh, Lord, she really was going to fall! Her hands and feet were not gripping round the rope readily. And with the clammy moisture on her hands she slipped and tumbled down, descending with a thud...into a pair of very strong arms. She heard him take a huge intake of air with a humph.

 
Poor Ralph. She hoped she hadn’t winded him. This physical exertion was really not good for his recovery.

  But, of course, it wasn’t Ralph who was holding on to her. It was another man, entirely...

  ‘Good evening, Lady Isabel.’

  Who else could it be other than William Geraint? The man positively plagued her!

  ‘What the devil are you doing?’ she hissed.

  ‘Catching you, my lady. And by and by, I must say how fortuitous it was that I looked up and saw you falling from the sky.’

  ‘Put me down, Sir William, if you please,’ she said, her patience wearing thin.

  ‘Not yet, I first need to establish a few things with you...although we must stop meeting like this.’ His lips curled upwards while he carried her in his arms. ‘You do realise that people might talk.’

  Lord, but he was infuriating.

  ‘What have you done to Ralph?’ She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to hold on to his neck or any other part of his large and honed anatomy.

  ‘Oh, he’s all right, I made an oath on my honour that you had nothing to fear from me, so he’s now on his way back to his pallet. But he might wake up with a sore head tomorrow.’

  ‘What? What did you do? I swear that if you have hurt him or done anything that may set his recovery back, I will...’ She covered her open mouth with her hand. ‘Oh, my God, what if he falls back into unconsciousness again?’

  William Geraint’s brows furrowed as he gazed down at her for moment. ‘Calm yourself, my lady, he isn’t unconscious but with a slight bump to the head. In any case, I wasn’t aware of his condition. It is curious, though, that you take such an interest in his well-being.’

  ‘Not that it’s of any concern of yours, but Ralph is a highly valued friend.’

  ‘Is he now?’ He raised his brow. ‘I’m wondering whether he may be the real reason for your reticence in going back home where you belong.’

  Oh, how her fingers itched to slap that smirk off his face.

  ‘If you must know, I helped the local wise woman tend to him after he was left for dead in the woods near here. So, yes, I take a great...great deal of interest in Ralph’s well-being,’ Isabel said, trying to hide her annoyance at his implication. She reminded herself again that she didn’t answer to this man.