“Eldon wouldn’t fight.” Isabella said.
“You’re right. Not unless someone he was close to was threatened.” Olivier handed her the journal.
“Everything was ready. Felix and Hector were nowhere to be found, so I decided to go ahead without them. The plan was simple, threaten to hurt Isabella unless he cooperated. I expected him to do anything for her. I didn’t expect him to attack. He was like a madman. He was better with his fists than I thought. I had to defend myself, but every time I got up he knocked me down. Eldon kept coming. The fight went from the barn out into the yard. He was going to kill me. I had to stop him from coming at me. I looked for anything I could use as a weapon.
“Just out of my reach was a bale of hay and a pitchfork. I needed to slow him down enough so I could grab the tool. I was on the ground. I took a handful of dirt and threw it into his face. While he tried to work the dust and grit from his eyes, I took the pitchfork into my hands to hold him off. When I turned he was headed for me. I pulled up the tool. He ran into the prongs. I didn’t know what to do. I dragged him back into the barn and left him there.”
She lowered the journal. Too numb to cry, she stared ahead at nothing. Eldon. All this time she thought he had left her when he had given his life to defend her.
“Nolan told me Eldon spoke of me often and said horrid things. I didn’t believe him. Nolan never believed that Eldon and I were simply friends. We were more like brother and sister than anything else. I knew Eldon and his teasing too well. When Eldon disappeared, Nolan told me Eldon ran away because he caught him trying to steal something from me and threatened to tell me.” She looked up at her grand-mère. “Everything goes back to Nolan. Everything.”
“Monsieur Olivier?” Gershon called from the doorway.
“Come in, my friend,” he said.
“I finished accounting for all the money. That man was clever. I also finished counting the silver.”
“Silver?” Isabella asked.
“Yesterday, Graham took every board down in the barn. He found silver coins hidden between the walls,” Monsieur Gershon said. “That man was determined to find every denier, and he did.”
“Nolan didn’t spend any money in Châlons or on that one trip to Lagny, I assumed the silver was still here,” Olivier said. “The barn was the most logical place to look. Money will be returned to you and repairs will be made on the houses. Graham has ordered the barn be torn down. I was there this morning. There isn’t much left for the men to take down.”
“There is one more item we need to bring to a close.” Olivier handed Isabella a document. “Here is the loan document. I suggest you put it in the fire for safekeeping. The winery account has more than enough money to pay its bills.”
The meeting over, Isabella made her way to Gershon.
“Monsieur Gershon. When did Graham find the coins?”
“He brought the coins to me late yesterday. He wouldn’t leave until I confirmed that all the money was there. I spoke to him about an hour ago and told him I’ve adjusted the winery and chateau accounts. I wanted to give him the information for Charlotte before he took the afternoon boat to England.”
Words didn’t come, tears did. She was numb and then the pain hit her out of nowhere.
“Bella. What is it?” grand-mère asked.
“I said some horrible things to Graham. I pushed him away before he walked away on his own.” She headed for the door, grand-mère at her side.
“Do you want him to leave?” grand-mère asked.
“No. I love him. More than anything. I love him.”
“Then find him. The boat to Lagny doesn’t sail for another hour.”
She looked at her grand-mère.
“Go.”
Isabella rushed out of the room. She didn’t stop until she reached Châlons and the river. She sidestepped and pushed her way through the crowd making her way to the dock. Walking through the maze of crates and barrels, she searched every face for him.
There were two boats at the dock, both made their way up the Marne and the Seine. He came from Lagny, perhaps he’ll return on the same route. She stationed herself at the bottom of the gangplank and hoped this was the boat he was on.
The crew of the boat to Gourney-sur-Marne several miles upriver past Lagny, cast off the lines and began to move out. A chill spread up her back. She turned and closed her eyes. Please don’t be there, please don’t be there.
She opened her eyes and stared at him at the rail as his boat pulled away. Tears ran down her cheek. There was so much she wanted to say, needed to say.
As the stern of the sailboat passed alongside the bow of a docked boat, she watched in amazement as he jumped over the side, landed on the ship, down the gangplank, and hurried to her.
She threw her arms around him and held him tight.
“I’m—”
He put his finger on her lips. “Sh-h-h.”
“No, I must tell you. I was afraid you would leave me. In my anger I said things I knew would push you away. I wanted you to fight for me, make me love you. That’s when I realized you had already won me. I love you.”
He kissed her forehead and kept his lips there and murmured, “I know. It took you long enough to realize.”
She pulled away to gaze at him.
His lips brushed hers. Not innocently, but hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding. He wanted to pull away before he lost himself. He could no longer think straight.
“Graham.” she whispered slowly, savoring each syllable.
His heart pounded at her voice as she clasped her hands on either side of his face. Never before had his name ever felt so wonderful. He leaned in for another kiss.
He reclaimed her lips and the world fell away. His kiss was slow, soft, and sensual telling her everything that was in his heart. His hand cupped her face below her ear, his thumb gently stroked her cheek.
Bella’s eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back, her hands in constant motion down his back, pulling him closer until there was no space between them and he could feel her heart beating against his chest. He broke away and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” He pulled away and lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “Bella, I love you.”
“I was scared you were gone.” Tears slid down her cheek.
He drew her back into his arms. They held each other and didn’t let go.
Chapter Eight
December 1289
“They’re coming through the gate,” Jeanne Marie pulled off her apron and threw it on the chair. She smoothed out her hair and hurried into the front courtyard. Graham and Isabella were close behind.
“How do I look?” Isabella asked.
He raised her hand and kissed the wedding band on her finger. “Beautiful.”
She squeezed his hand. They went out onto the front steps, Jeanne Marie at their side as Hugh and Charlotte’s carriage pulled up.
Graham didn’t wait for the footman. He hurried to the carriage, opened the door, and nearly pulled Hugh out.
“Whoa. I can manage on my own.” Graham wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Donald decided to ride rather than join us in the carriage.”
“Ride? He detests riding, unless…” He hurried behind the carriage.
“Hello, Hugh.” Isabella kissed her brother-in-law on the cheek. “What is that all about?”
“I’m sorry, Sister dear. They have been apart too long.”
She gave Hugh a quizzical look. A horse neighed and she laughed. “Merlin.”
“And Fleur. They are inseparable,” he said, as he helped Charlotte out of the carriage.
Charlotte dropped Hugh’s hand and embraced Isabella.
Both women were in tears.
Charlotte dabbed a cloth on Isabella’s cheek. “Come, meet your parents-in-law. Gareth and Moira are wonderful.”
“Mother, Father,” Graham said as he walked up to them.
They
were a handsome couple. But it was his father that got her attention. Standing all together the men of the family looked alike, yet different. They were all warriors.
Graham kissed his mother’s cheek. He held his father close as he had Hugh. Then he walked to her and put his arm around her waist.
“This is Isabella Girard Eden. My wife.” He said the words with pride and, when she glanced at his face, with happiness. “Join us inside for mulled wine and refreshments. You must be tired after your long journey.”
She helped Graham get everyone settled into the salon and served refreshments.
“So much for your two weeks at the winery,” Donald said. Everyone chuckled.
“The captain warned me Châlons was seductive. It has everything: adventure, chaos, betrayal, and murder. At the crux of it all was Nolan’s insistence there was a great treasure.” Graham sipped his mulled wine.
Charlotte, Isabella, and Jeanne Marie became unusually quiet. The only sound was the crackle of the fire.
“What?” Graham asked.
Isabella glanced at Jeanne Marie, who looked at Charlotte.
“He has a right to know,” Isabella said.
Charlotte went to the cabinet where Graham found Maurice’s relics. She opened the door. A heartbeat later, in the quiet of the room there was a soft click. The right edge of the bookcase moved forward. Graham and Hugh swung the bookcase on its hinge and revealed a secret room.
With a lit candle in hand, Charlotte led everyone through the doorway and set the candle on the table in the small wood paneled room.
Tapestries of Templar Knights hung on two walls. Bows and swords hung on the other two walls. Decorative chests were under them. A lone chair stood next to the table in the center of the room.
“What is inside these?” Moira asked. She pointed to two intricate chests against the walls and an elegant box on the table.
“The two chests contain the belongings of Crusaders, Templar Knights,” Jeanne Marie said. “Maurice was close to many of the warriors who went off to war.”
“These items were important to the Crusaders. They didn’t want them touched by the infidel. Maurice promised he would take them with him,” Charlotte said.
“I looked at each item,” Miles said. “Ordinary things, rings, bracelets, locks of hair. I thought the families would want them. I hoped it would bring them comfort. Maurice knew the families of some of the men. He returned the items to those families. He didn’t know who to contact to return these items.”
“DuClare introduced me to an antiquities expert.”
“Didn’t DuClare say she was his niece?”
“That doesn’t disqualify her,” Donald said. He turned to Charlotte. “No need to make a decision this minute. All I’m saying is, this woman may be able to help get them back where they belong.”
“You said the relics are in the chests, but what’s inside the box on the table?” Donald asked.
Charlotte opened the box and took out two pieces of parchment. She handed the first one to Hugh.
“To all people to whom these presents shall come, greetings. Know ye that I, Maurice Cantrelle of Châlons sur Marne within His Majesty’s county of Champagne, Yeoman for and in consideration of the sum of one denier to me in hand before the ensealing hereof, well and truly paid by LaBarge…”
“This is the contract,” Jeanne Marie said. “I had no idea it was in here.”
Hugh read on.
“Have given, granted, bargained, sold, aliened, conveyed, and confirmed unto him, the said LaBarge assign forty percent of the winery income or loss once known as Cantrelle, hereto known as Labatrelle Winery, lying and being in said Champagne comprised of ten hectares.”
“This winery partnership will cease to exist at the demise of LaBarge, god rest his soul, then all the rights and responsibilities will revert to Charlotte DeMertz Eden.”
Hugh glanced at Charlotte. “This is the agreement between LaBarge and your pépe. It proves the land is yours.”
“Here is the letter he treasured above everything else in this room.” Jeanne Marie looked up from reading the second parchment and handed it to Graham.
“My most dear friend and neighbor, Maurice. For countless days and nights, we have fought side-by-side. We have cared for our brethren wither friend or foe. I am dying and will not be able to give you thanks for seeing to this task which you have volunteered for. See that the Templar treasure is returned to France. And more than that, you have my gratitude to seeing to the welfare of my treasure beyond measure. Get her back to France and keep her safe. Handle my treasure tenderly for she is frail and precious to me, my wife, Jeanne Marie. May god protect you both. Joseph.”
They put the parchments back into the box and returned to the solar.
“The gold and silver are long gone,” Jeanne Marie said. “Maurice traveled to Troye and brought that treasure to the Templar brothers. For me, with Joseph gone, I had no reason to return home. Maurice and Marie asked me to stay here.”
Jeanne Marie went to the sideboard, poured wine into goblets, and handed one to everyone.
Graham stood with his wife.
“You have my thanks for coming here today. Bella and I have much to be thankful for.” He faced her. “I drink to you, my heart.”
He sipped his wine, then turned to the others.
“There is one more turn in this adventure,” Graham said. He nodded to Jeanne Marie.
“The lower field was not part of the Cantrelle estate. The lower field was owned by Joseph Marie. My Joseph. We lived at the small manor house and spent many an evening here with our good friends.
“When Joseph went to the Holy Land, I went with him. I cared for the soldiers as they battled on. While we were away, Marie and LaBarge took care of the vineyard and winery. When Maurice returned from the Crusades without Joseph, he cared for the lower field as if it was his own.”
Jeanne Marie faced Isabella.
“My intent was always to give the land to Isabella as a dowry from her grand-père and me.”
“Were you aware the field was yours?” Graham asked.
“I’m afraid I have not been truthful with you. Yes, I’ve known for a long time the field was mine. That is why I spoke to Monsieur Olivier the day you asked him for the loan. I told him to only take the lower field as security when you needed money.”
“You believed in me more than I believed in myself. You could have lost everything.” He took her hand and tenderly kissed her knuckles.
“I never doubted you would bring in the harvest. Never.”
“She has a good mind for business,” Hugh said as he sipped his wine. “The winery fits you very well, Graham. You’ve found your place in the world.”
“I found much more, my trésor au-delà de toute mesure, treasure beyond measure. My Bella.”
The End
About the Author
RUTH A. CASIE is a USA Today bestselling author of historical and contemporary romance. Her stories feature strong women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all.
Ruth lives in New Jersey with her hero, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she found her author voice, she was a speech therapist (pun intended), client liaison for a corrugated manufacturer, and vice president at an international bank where she was a product/marketing manager, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now—writing romance.
Visit her website (ruthacasie.com) to see what she writes. Her historical swashbuckling action-adventures and contemporary suspense will keep you turning the pages until the end. She hopes her stories become your favorite adventures.
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Graham: Pirates of Britannia Connected World (Sons of Sagamore Book 2) Page 11
