by Rue Allyn
Malveux stabbed his sabre into Richard’s shoulder. He cried out and collapsed.
Malveux straightened. “You see, Marielle, it is useless to oppose me.”
Mari fired. A small hole formed in Malveux’s forehead.
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered as he crumpled to the quay.
Mon Dieu, indeed. Ignoring the urge to vomit, Mari rushed to Richard’s side. “You will not die, my darling. I will make sure of it, for I could not live without you.”
• • •
As the shores of England drew near, Richard cursed the weakness that plagued him. Once his fever had broken and it was clear he would not succumb to his wounds, Mari had left him to her cousin’s not-so-tender mercies. They’d not met again until he’d come on deck a few minutes ago and spotted her near the railing, watching the Dover cliffs rise above the horizon.
“You should be resting.” She did not turn her head to look at him but gazed steadily at the approaching land.
“Perhaps.” He didn’t want to argue with her, but he knew his own strength. He needed to be on his feet.
They watched the horizon in silence. So much stood between them. Rank, lack of trust, self-doubt, guilt, lies.
That interlude in the folly had been the most passionate of his life. He wanted that again, and more. He’d proposed—out of honor, yes, and because he could not bear to see her suffer any longer as she had these past three years. She had to know he loved her. He’d told her he knew she’d done nothing wrong other than be manipulated by Malveux, and that could have happened to any woman left with no one to guide her. Why did she continue to refuse his offer of marriage? He should ask her, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer.
She must still be in love with Jennings, and he could not compete with a dead man.
“Jennings loved you very much,” Richard said.
“I’m certain he did in his fashion,” she said in a monotone.
“He never doubted you.”
She shrugged.
“When news reached our unit of the scandal with Malveux, Jennings refused to credit you with any responsibility. One officer provoked Jennings enough that he was forced to challenge the fellow.”
She turned her head to look at Richard. Finally, he’d gotten her attention.
“He fought a duel?” Her voice and expression held concern.
“No, you know Jennings. He’d never disobey an order, and dueling was forbidden. He dared his opponent to lead a direct charge at the French with him.”
She shifted her gaze back to the horizon where Dover harbor emerged from the mist. “Of course, the challenge was accepted.” The monotone had returned.
“Indeed. They both died.”
“So, I am to blame for the death of one more man.”
She was so very wrong. “They did it to themselves, Mari. No one ordered them to charge into heavily armed enemy troops.”
“But no one stopped them.”
“No, I tried, but not hard enough. I told Jennings you needed him alive, but he insisted your honor needed defending. I should have gone in his place, but I didn’t have his faith in you. Not then.”
“And you do now, I suppose.”
“You know I do.”
“Thank you.”
He waited while the ship docked. René joined them, and they disembarked. But Mari spoke not another word.
“I think I’ll ride and enjoy this pleasant weather,” René remarked. Mari stood by quietly as Richard made travel arrangements. When he handed her up into the coach he’d hired, he could endure the silence no more.
“I wish I could go with you to Stonegreave, but I must report to my superiors. I don’t know what more I can say to convince you to honor me with your hand in marriage. But I cannot believe you when you say we will not suit.” Remembered passion roughened his voice. “I will come to Stonegreave as soon as I may with a special license in hand. Unless you can give me good reason, we will marry then.”
She stared blindly forward. “Do not bother. I will not see you.”
“You will. You are too honorable a woman to deny me the truth.” He shut the carriage door then watched the coach and his love disappear. When he could no longer see even the dust trail, Richard climbed into his own hired rig and headed for London. He had to believe that, given time, Mari would change her mind. He had to have hope. Without that, his heart would break for certain.
• • •
She’d been home for a month. René had left last week with his mother to take the waters in Bath. May was proving as hot and dry as April had been cold and damp. Where was Richard? Surely it did not take a whole month to make a report. Perhaps he’d changed his mind, which would no doubt be for the best. She was uncertain herself. One moment she felt her heart would shrivel to dust if she could not see him. The next, she wanted nothing to do with a man who, until recently, exhibited so little faith in her.
When the numbness she’d felt after the events in Dieppe had worn off, she’d begun to think about what Richard had said.
She’d once thought that she would be a horrible wife for him. The ton might see it the other way. The second son of a minor baron certainly was not fit to be the husband of a duchess in her own right. But what did the ton know? Did they know how intelligent and brave he was? How willing to sacrifice himself for country and honor? Did they know how diligently he pursued his duty, even when he found that duty distasteful? Perhaps she could not see in him the carefree youth he’d been before he’d gone to war, before she’d promised to marry Jennings. But she’d seen the man Richard had become and loved him enough to let him go. He didn’t need a wife burdened by scandal. A wife who would allow herself to be deluded and manipulated by villains like Malveux and Cochinat.
She was weary to death of the myriad burdens she carried and would gladly shift some onto his capable shoulders. But he needed a quiet, capable woman who would bring him comfort and ease, not anguish and troubles without number. She would not do that to him, but to herself she could admit that she very much wished they could wed.
She needed to see him. She needed to tell him one last time that she was not interested in marriage. She must convince him to forget her. If that meant denying her love for him, so be it. She had no need for his kisses or the comfort of his arms or the passion he gave. Liar.
He’d said he’d come, so why didn’t he?
She sat in the rose garden, reading a letter from her aunt, when a shadow blocked her light.
“Richard.” She leapt up, dropping her letter to the ground, and threw herself into his arms, gripping his shoulders and drawing him close.
He dipped his head to kiss her.
She shoved out of his embrace. “Forgive me. I should never have done that.”
He smiled. “Nonsense. I would hope that you greet me with such fervor for the rest of our lives. Would you like to wed this evening or wait until tomorrow morning?”
She turned her back to him and bit her lip. The moment had come.
“Neither.”
“What is your preference then?”
Did she hear disappointment in his voice, or was that relief? She couldn’t let either influence her. She lowered her head and clutched her hands before her. Why was this so hard? She’d shot a man. Uttering a few simple words could not be half so difficult.
“I . . . I’ve no wish to marry at all. It is completely unnecessary . . . and I do not love you.”
“Eager as I am to have children with you, I am not sorry that our marriage is unnecessary.”
He was definitely relieved. Refusing his proposal should be that much easier. She felt his hand on her shoulder and, yielding to the pressure he exerted, turned to face him.
“I told you that if you refused me now, you must explain to me your reasons.”
She blinked. “But, you just said you were not sorry our marriage is unnecessary.”
His smile returned.
“Unnecessary our marriage may be, but I still want it.
”
“You do?” Her brow wrinkled, and her lips pursed. He was under no obligation to wed her. What could he possibly gain? Marriage to her would be nothing but trouble.
He nodded. “I do.” His gaze, calm yet hopeful, held hers, compelling her to confess her true feelings.
She drew herself up. “I cannot, will not, marry you. Our ranks are too disparate. My reputation will only hurt you.”
Richard nodded, took her arm and urged her down onto the bench where he’d found her.
“I agree that our ranks are very disparate, but I do not believe that should stop us. I have sufficient good reputation for both of us. The ton will tolerate almost anything from a hero of Salamanca. In addition, my superiors are very grateful for the assistance you gave in thwarting Malveux’s plot. They have already begun a whispering campaign that should erase the worst of the sins attributed to you.”
“I hardly know what to say. When you see your superiors again, please thank them for me. However, I still will not marry you. We’ve too many lies between us. I will not deny my lust for you, but that is no good basis for marriage.”
“The lies are in the past, Mari. I trust you with all my heart. As for lust, I must once more agree with you. If lust were all we shared, our marriage might founder. But we share a great deal more.”
“Such as?” She dared him with her eyes. Prayed with every fiber he would find a way to prove her wrong. She wanted him to slay all dragons and defeat all arguments, but some part of her clung to the idea that he could not.
For he did not love her.
He picked up her hand and toyed with her fingers. “To mention just a few of our common traits, we share dedication to family, loyalty to country, the ability to overcome fear in the face of adversity, and our love for Lord Jennings Pugh.”
She inhaled sharply. “Your courage and patriotism are without question. However, I’ve known you long enough to be certain you are not fond of your family.”
He nodded. “Fondness is not required for dedication. They are, for good or bad, my family. In my way, I have helped them achieve some of their goals, and I will always protect them. If you marry me, I will protect you as well.”
“That would be very comforting if I needed protecting.” Her heart trembled in her chest. How much she wanted to have him protect her. If only he would say he loved her, but in all their encounters, love was the one word he’d never mentioned.
“True, you are capable of protecting yourself. But could you not indulge me a little bit and allow me the privilege of guarding you? I would do so with my life, you know.”
“Yes, I do know. And nothing would give me greater pleasure, but Jennings remains between us. We rarely talk about him.”
“I’ve missed him a great deal. Talking of him makes his death all too real, and a part of me wants to deny that.”
“I understand. I’ve felt guilty about his death since the day I learned of it. I should never have agreed when he told me he wanted to join up.”
“You loved him. How could you deny him?”
“It was a very poor kind of love that only considered his wants and desires while ignoring what would be good for him.”
“I don’t think it was poor at all. You had faith in him. So much so that you honestly believed he would survive the war. If I could have traded places with him, I would have. For all my life, I have always wanted your happiness, above all things.”
She felt the tightness in her chest ease, and she looked up at him. She saw no deception, only truth in his eyes. “I’m surprised. When you came to see me at the end of March, you seemed so cold and judgmental. It was as if you had tried and convicted me without ever asking me what happened.”
“I can’t deny that I was angry and blamed you at the time. But my real anger was at Jennings for dying and leaving a great empty hole in my heart. You, more than anyone, reminded me of that. I wasn’t smart enough to see that we could help each other mourn our loss instead of using it as a barrier.”
She beamed at Richard. “I was angry at Jennings too. Unreasonable as it is, I felt he’d broken his promise to me.”
“He didn’t you know. Not really.”
“You are right. He loved me. He showed it by never doubting me. That love was the greatest promise he could make, and he kept that to the end.”
“I want to make you that same promise Mari. I love you.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “You love me too.”
He couldn’t possibly know that. “I never . . . ”
“Hush.” He laid a finger against her lips. “We are done with lies, remember?”
His hand dropped away.
“What makes you think I love you?”
“On the quay in France, you said you couldn’t live without me. I consider that tantamount to an admission of love.”
“But you’d been stabbed. How else was I to encourage you to live?”
“I needed no encouragement. I would lay down my life for you, but that proved unnecessary. Instead I lay my heart at your feet. You may reject it, but I will continue to love you all of my days. Please marry me.”
Could she? She wanted nothing more, and all her objections had been countered. Still the last thing she would do is hurt Richard in any manner. Do you think refusing him will not hurt him? Accept his proposal, you ninny, and make both of us happy.
She lifted her lips to his in a kiss as tender and vulnerable as his plea. “Yes, I will marry you,” she whispered against his mouth. “You are right. I love you too.”
Turn the page for an excerpt from
Knight Errant
Chapter 1
Northwest of Genoa, July 1294
A harsh rumble and a chorus of screams tore Lady Juliana Verault’s attention from directing her small party up the riverbank. Only steps away, a bridge collapsed, raising a shower of mud and havoc. Moments before she’d declined to follow the rest of the caravan across the clearly unstable structure.
She must save as many folk as she could.
“Gretle, Berthild, find the salve and bandages we packed.” As the shout left her mouth, Juliana plunged down the slope. She’d covered half the distance to the shore when a mounted knight raced past her.
By the time she reached the river’s edge, the man, still on horseback, had doffed his surcoat and mail shirt, plucked two women from the current, and tossed a rope around the large chunk of bridge stone that pinned the caravan’s screaming guide up to his neck in water.
Downriver in midstream, a small boy clung to the pointy tip of a rock. The water rushed around him, drowning his cries for help. Busy with rescuing others, the knight could neither see nor hear the boy.
Juliana could not allow an innocent to die. She shed her tunic and boots, tied the skirt of her shift around her hips, leaving her legs free, and waded into the icy stream. Without warning, the river bottom dropped. She sank, her mouth filling with muddy water. She couldn’t see. Desperate to breathe and get to the boy, she kicked against the current, praying she aimed for the surface. Air and light hit her at the same instant. But relief died in the moment it took her to push her hair from her eyes. Where was the boy?
A weak “help” jounced to her over the roaring water. Fighting the current, she turned her head toward the voice. The boy still clung to the pointy rock, thank heaven!
Numbing cold threatened to drag her under, but she refused to yield and focused on the boy’s face. Closer now, Juliana gave up her fight against the current. Allowing the stream to carry her, she stroked toward the rock. Though her lungs and body ached, she swam for her life and the child’s.
She hit a submerged portion of the stone before she could reach him. The impact jarred her bones and flattened her along the hidden rock face. The boulder was larger beneath the river’s surface than she expected. Water pushed along the length of her, pressing her down onto the slick rock. She lifted her arms but could not grasp the child.
“Grab on to me,” she urged. “I wi
ll take you back to land.”
The boy whimpered and shook his head. “Mama.”
“She waits for you on the bank. Come, I will take you to her.” Pray heaven I speak true, and the woman still lives.
The child let go and reached for Juliana. She stretched. A crest of water splashed over her and smacked the boy backward. He teetered. She lunged for him, catching his foot as he fell into the river. He flailed against the current. Pain wrenched her shoulder, but she managed to haul the boy up and wedge him between her body and the rock before her arm fell useless to her side. He clung, coughing from the water he had inhaled, shivering with cold.
“You are safe now, lad. I have you. You will soon be with your mother. Just hold tight.”
The boy nodded and wrapped his arms about her neck in a near stranglehold, burying his face beneath her chin.
Juliana looked beyond him to the riverbank. Her shoulder throbbed so much she could scarce lift that arm. The short swim from the bank to the rock now stretched to an insurmountable distance. How could she get to the riverside with only one good arm and hold on to the boy at the same time? She wanted to weep but said a silent prayer instead.
“Are we going back now?” The child lifted his head and looked at her.
Her vision grayed. Juliana fought back the effects of pain and exposure. The boy needed reassurance. “Yes, child.” She did not know how, but she would keep him safe.
The only possible course would be to have the lad climb onto her back. They would float with the current until she could drift close enough to shore to find her footing and then carry the boy by land to his mother. She prayed she would not drown them both and shifted to let go of the rock.
A wet rope smacked the water in front of her face. Instinctively, she grabbed for the lifeline with her injured arm. Pain arced through her shoulder and limb, yet she managed to wrap the rope around it, anchoring the line in place. With her good arm, she maintained a sure grip on the tip of the rock, securing the boy against the stone with her body.
“Tie the rope around you both. When you’re done, tug on the line, and I will pull you to shore.” The strong, clear voice struck her ears.
