Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  ‘What is it, my lady? What is this all about?’

  She met his curious gaze and bit her lip. ‘I don’t think that you’ll understand.’

  His brows shot up. ‘Whatever it is, I hope you know that you can tell me anything.’

  ‘I do—however, this is not something that can be so readily accepted.’

  ‘Just tell me, Isabel.’

  She sighed deeply. ‘Very well. You once asked me what I was afraid of.’

  ‘Yes…’ he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

  ‘Well, the truth is that I don’t believe that those men from last night were trying to renege on whatever deal you struck with Rolleston.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I don’t think any of this is a coincidence, Will—the ambush when I was child, my father and my brothers’ deaths. Even last night, with those assailants.’

  ‘Are you trying to say that you believe the incidents are all somehow related?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re mistaken, Isabel.’

  ‘I told you that you wouldn’t accept what I had to say.’ She exhaled.

  ‘I’m sorry, but how do you know this and what makes you say it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said in a whisper. ‘There are things that I vaguely recall in the haze of my memory. Things that I have tried to forget.’ She took in a deep breath before continuing. ‘I was a child whom no one noticed much, but I was naturally inquisitive, especially when I was told I was being sent to France to live with my betrothed and his family—the second son of the Count d’Albret. I knew I wasn’t to marry him until I came of age, but can you imagine my concern and shock at being told that I would one day be wed to a man who was close to my father’s age. I needed to know why.’ She sighed before continuing.

  ‘I knew my father was out of favour with King John and needed to strengthen our family alliance, but I needed to know what would become of me. I needed reassurance. Instead, I heard other things. Voices in the dark spilling secrets and promissory oaths made that could not be unmade.’

  ‘Can you recall who and what that could be?’

  ‘No, I can’t remember that—not yet, anyway. And until you appeared in St Jean de Cole, I hoped I never would need to remember my old life…but now, everything has changed.’ She gulped, looking down at her hands before lifting her head. ‘All I know is what I have told you and the fact that somehow, in some way, it is all related to that pendant you have around your neck, Will.’

  He stared at her in disbelief and clutched his hand around the pendant unwittingly, drawing it out from under his tunic and looking at it several times. ‘Is that why you gave it to me? For safekeeping?’

  ‘No—’ she shook her head ‘—I wanted you to have it for saving my life, but also with the knowledge that I had found an identical pendant in my satchel, before we were ambushed.’

  ‘An identical pendant?’

  She nodded. ‘That was what rendered that man unconscious, last night, I believe. It’s at the bottom of my satchel, as I never wear it, and must have caught him on the head when I whacked him.’

  Will hissed an oath under his breath. There couldn’t be anything to what Isabel said, could there?

  She tilted her head and smiled wryly. ‘I can see that you have a problem believing in what I am saying.’

  ‘To be clear, all you have said, my lady, is that there are two silver and ruby pendants, one of which you gave me all those years ago, and a handful of disturbing memories, which you can’t recall very easily.’ He paused and dragged his fingers through his hair and softened his tone. ‘I’m sorry, Isabel, but there doesn’t seem to be anything in this except your unsubstantiated fears of the unknown. Which I do understand, by the way.’

  She dropped her head and made a single nod. Her whole demeanour tugged at Will’s chest and he almost jumped down from his horse to comfort her. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I didn’t think you’d believe me, but then you did ask.’ She sighed, pressing ahead with her horse, edging forward down the path, surrounded by shrubs and coppices. ‘Although there is one thing I forgot to mention,’ she said from over her shoulder.

  ‘Oh, and what is that?’

  ‘The pendants should never, ever be kept together and must always be kept apart.’ She turned her head slightly, affording him a view of her profile against the shadows. ‘That, I have remembered.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dusk had settled. They had ridden for many long hours avoiding towns, villages and small hamlets where people might be encouraged to remember a man and woman travelling together on horseback.

  Eventually, they had set up a small camp in another sheltered area of yet another part of a secluded woodland, close to a fast-flowing river.

  It had been Isabel’s insistence that they pushed ahead without stopping for respite. The more they stopped, the more time she would have to think. The more time she would have for lengthy conversations with a man who was starting to invade far too much of her inner sanctum.

  Will was a frustration that intrigued Isabel even though he shouldn’t. He was confounding and, with everything in her life as precarious and uncertain as it was, this was something that should not be worth her time. Yet, she couldn’t help it.

  Isabel splashed in the river, glad of the opportunity to wash away the day’s dirt and travelling grime. She poured the river water over her head and applied a cleansing oil and soap that she had prepared and brought with her from St Jean de Cole, inhaling the calming scent.

  The journey already felt much longer than the two days since she had left home. She missed and mourned that life once again, but knew there was no use thinking of it. That life was no more, but what the new one waiting for her in England would entail, she could only wonder.

  Isabel finished bathing and paddled out of the river, ringing the water out of her long hair and using lengths of linen to dry herself. She removed the wet tunic that she’d bathed in, putting on a clean, dry one, and finished dressing. After taking a big glug of chilly air into her lungs, she wandered back along the leafy path to where they had set up for the night.

  She shivered, moving towards the fire that Will had kindled, watching the flames lick the lengths of wood. It seemed that the first cold bite had finally arrived as one season was giving way into another.

  ‘You’re cold, my lady.’ Will strode towards her and draped a blanket over her shoulders. ‘Here, take this.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Isabel glanced up and noticed his swift intake of air, his eyes fixed to her unbound and unveiled hair. ‘It’s still wet,’ she said and flushed instantly, knowing it was plainly obvious. Needing to do something instead of standing there feeling self-conscious, Isabel drew the long length of her hair over one shoulder, allowing it to fall to her front, her fingers prising through the wet strands, untangling it.

  For some unknown reason Will was still watching her, as if beguiled under an enchantment. She raised her brows in question and, as though he was pulled back to his senses, he gave his head a firm shake and offered her a place to sit by the fire before perching on the other side, leaning against a tree.

  They descended into an uncomfortable silence, with Isabel unable to think of anything to say. She huddled close to the fire, allowing the warmth into her weary bones, listening to it crackle and spit as she rested her chin on her raised knees.

  It was different now they were sated from the last parcels of food that she had brought, had washed, cleaned and were now ready for…sleep.

  This time, it was very different to the way she had passed out last night. This time, she was very aware that she was alone in the middle of the woods at night with a handsome warrior. A man whose very presence made her stomach plummet to her toes. Isabel trusted Will implicitly, but not her own reaction to him, which made her feel quite ridiculous. She knew nothing of men, but did understand that her
feelings were muddled up at a time when she was in need of a friend. Yes, that’s all this was. Nothing more than needing someone to converse with.

  Will picked up a small object and Isabel watched in fascination as his big, strong hands moved carefully, carving intricate shapes into a piece of what looked like a bit of slate with a small knife.

  ‘What are you making?’ she muttered, after a while.

  ‘Nothing in particular.’ He shrugged. ‘This is something I always do when I need to think.’

  ‘What have you to think about that would necessitate for you to be this assiduous?’

  A faint smile played at the corners of his lips. ‘Am I being assiduous?’

  ‘Oh, I believe so and I believe it is what I said earlier today that has you in such a quandary.’

  He lifted his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘It is all so…’

  ‘Fanciful?’

  He shook his head. ‘Your fears are natural, Isabel, and they stem from what happened to you when you were a young maid. However, that doesn’t mean that there is some conspiracy against your family involving a couple of silver pendants.’

  ‘I thank you for your summary, but you will, I hope, understand if I don’t share your opinion. Whatever you may believe, there’s far more to the pendants than meets the eye.’

  ‘Do you not think it possible that the ordeal you suffered as a child was so monstrous that in time your mind began to contrive a different narrative?’

  ‘You’re all but saying that I must have made all of it up in my head.’

  ‘No, I am just trying to consider why you might believe that everything that has befallen you and your family was not merely coincidence.’

  ‘I do not need your consideration, Will. You don’t have to share my beliefs,’ she said, pulling the blanket tightly over her shoulders. ‘All I want is your understanding.’

  ‘You have it, my lady.’ He met her eyes and made a curt nod before resuming his carving.

  ‘Thank you.’ They descended once again into silence, which Isabel was keen to break. ‘You seem highly skilled. Did you learn this at a guild in England?’

  Will shook his head and continued shaping the small bit of slate, exchanging the knife for a chisel. ‘My father was a stonemason…that is, my stepfather was.’ The words that he spoke seemed forced and tainted with bitterness. ‘He was the one who was truly skilled—commissioned to make gargoyles and ornamental mouldings on the underside of arches, along columns and buttresses of many a holy church and its outer buildings.’

  ‘It must have been inspiring to be around someone who could produce such…such beauty.’

  Will tilted his head, keeping his eyes pinned to what he was creating. ‘When he favoured me with his time, which wasn’t often, it felt…special. He would sit and teach me how to hold whatever it was I intended to carve as well as how to hold the knife, the pressure I’d need to apply to get the desired effect. It was intricate, time-consuming work and an effective way to spend a little time with the man. At least it stopped us from incessantly arguing.’ He sighed deeply, looking away.

  This was one of a very few times that Will had freely revealed something significant about himself—about his past. Even if he was still reticent. It was preferable to Isabel—she would much rather talk about his past than her own.

  ‘It must have been…difficult.’

  He shook his head. ‘I have always enjoyed cutting, carving and moulding—creating something with hopefully a little beauty out of nothing.’

  ‘I understand the need to elicit a little beauty from this sometimes unforgiving and unkind world.’ Isabel hugged her knees tighter. ‘That’s why I extract parts of flowers, herbs and plants to prepare tisanes, poultices and salves that may heal and soothe. Or if I’m feeling particularly indulgent then I’d create scented oils and soaps.’ She looked up then and caught his steady gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips.

  ‘And that is why your own scent is like an enchanting floral garden.’ He smiled as Isabel felt her cheeks getting warm.

  She looked away for a moment before turning her attention back to Will. ‘Has it been long since you have seen your family, your father?’

  He frowned before answering her. ‘Not since…well, for the past few years. My father—stepfather—died around that time.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  He shrugged. ‘Despite this,’ he said, nodding at the slate and chisel in his hands, ‘we were never close. I wasn’t his natural-born son.’

  Isabel warmed her hands, holding them out near to the fire, watching the flames flare, her gaze distant, recalling a faraway memory. She blinked and lifted her head. ‘My father never favoured me either and I was his natural-born daughter.’ She grimaced, shaking her head. ‘I was an inconvenience who held no interest for him, except when he was arranging my betrothal. Even then I cannot recall he ever spoke to me much about it other than make demands.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t tell anyone—me, the priest, the nuns who took you and even your adopted family—who you really were?’

  ‘Not exactly. My father commanded me not to and I was only a child at the time so I obeyed his edict without question.’ She shrugged. ‘He told me that our family’s position was precarious because of his downfall with King John. And after what happened at the ambush, I was scared, Will. I even thought at one time that it had been the King’s agents who were responsible for what had happened. I believed that I was in danger, so I kept my vow and told no one who I was.’ She sighed.

  ‘Besides, I trusted my father would come looking for me once my family realised what had happened. But no one came for me, no one cared…so I decided to forget everything that had happened and forged a new life—one of my own choosing.’ Isabel might have longed for her mother desperately, but she had feared her father’s wrath more, believing that somehow the ambush would be perceived as her fault. But how could it? She had only been a child—a terrified child. Isabel’s throat suddenly felt tight as she lifted her head and met his eyes.

  ‘You should have been treated with more care, Isabel.’

  Yes…yes, she should have been. Not that Isabel blamed her gentle mother, who’d never had a say in anything. But she certainly blamed her indifferent, controlling father. His blood might run through her veins, but it had offered her no protection from heartache. And in time she’d realised that she could only ever depend on herself.

  Isabel’s need to guard herself from further hurt stemmed from that very moment in her life when everything shifted. When she journeyed down a path very different to the one she was meant to.

  ‘My father used to say to my mother that I must be cursed because of my strangely coloured eyes.’

  ‘You are not,’ Will growled, as if he were annoyed on her behalf. ‘And they’re not strange, but beautiful. I remembered you after all this time because of your remarkable eyes.’

  Heavens above…

  Isabel’s cheeks felt as though they were on fire. She swallowed, unable to think of what to say, her words drying on her lips. Yet she couldn’t break away from Will’s intense scrutiny daring her to believe him.

  She stood up suddenly. ‘I think it must be time for me to get some sleep. Shall we take it in turns to keep watch?’

  It was not quite the best way to diffuse whatever had just passed between them, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

  ‘Apologies, my lady,’ he said stiffly. ‘I did not mean to embarrass you.’

  ‘You didn’t, Will,’ she said, biting her bottom lip.

  ‘I’m glad.’ He rose as well and passed her his blanket. ‘Here, just in case you get colder later.’

  She frowned. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Now try to get some sleep.’ He held out his hand. ‘Before you do, may I possibly take a look at the other pendant—the iden
tical one—to satisfy my curiosity?’

  * * *

  Isabel woke up at the break of dawn. She had meant to rouse earlier to afford Will the opportunity to rest and sleep as well, but she must have been far more tired than she had anticipated. The moment Isabel’s head had touched the blanket, she had fallen into a deep slumber.

  She sat up, yawning and stretching her arms, her eyes darting around until they settled on Will, finding him frowning over the two pendants.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I meant to wake much earlier than this.’

  ‘Not necessary, my lady.’ He waved his hand absently, without looking up. ‘But there is something you should know about these pendants,’ he said, holding them up.

  Her brows creased. ‘What is it?’

  Will looked up then. ‘They are not identical.’

  ‘That’s not possible,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth, Isabel.’

  She slid over beside Will for a closer inspection, blinking several times at the two pendants, held in the palm of his hands. ‘I don’t know what you mean. They still look exactly the same to me.’

  ‘That’s what has been baffling me.’ He shook his head. ‘Why go to such lengths to make these pieces of jewellery look as though they’re one and the same, when they’re not.’

  Isabel looked closer and noticed that actually the ruby inset in the centre of each pendant, although exactly the same in size, was differently set.

  ‘Can you see it now? Notice how the gem, the silver filigree work around the edges and all the beautiful metal work are all perfectly the same in design.’

  ‘But on one pendant, the design is raised…’ she said slowly.

  ‘While on the other, it is set back to an exacting precision,’ he finished her sentence.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ She met his eyes, shaking her head. ‘Why?’

  ‘I cannot say, my lady but I do think that whoever commissioned these intended for them to look identical.’

  ‘There must be a reason. Why go to all this effort to make them appear the same?’