The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  At that point, Geoffrey, George, and, finally, Ridge entered the tent and Blythe’s attention shifted. The moment she saw Ridge, she stiffened.

  “My lord, you will excuse us,” she said loudly. “This is a family discussion.”

  Ridge wasn’t going to fight with a woman he very much wanted a consent from, so he simply nodded his head and started to bow out, but Charles stopped him.

  “Ridge, you will stay,” he said. Then, he looked at his mother. “We are aware that de Luzie approached Catherine today and we are aware she sent him away. If it was rudely, it is because the man doesn’t listen. She does not want anything to do with him and I have told you that from the start. Ridge has come at my request to once again solicit your consent for courting Catherine.”

  Blythe could see that they were ganging up on her. All of them. She didn’t like the feeling that all three of her sons were against her, but she had a stubborn streak. She didn’t like being told what to do and she liked to wield all of the power – power over people, over lives. She didn’t like that her sons were advocating de Reyne when she wanted de Luzie, the son of a count. She’d just spent three hours with the man, listening to him denounce her rude daughter and then speaking of how he would make sure she had excellent manners when they were married. He spoke of his father’s court and the great connections the man had to rich lords all across the country.

  That was the man she wanted for her daughter.

  Not this tournament knight.

  But she suspected this might not be the case with her children, as they clearly hated Renard. Therefore, she was prepared. She had been ever since her discussion with Renard. De Reyne wanted to talk, so she would talk. It seemed to be the only way to distract him from her daughter so Renard could have a chance.

  She wanted Catherine to see what she saw in the count’s son.

  She had a plan.

  “Very well,” she said, turning away from her daughter and resuming her chair. “I am still not pleased that Catherine disobeyed my summons, but I will not dwell on it. Sir Ridge, sit town. All of you sit down, except for my daughter. You will go to your tent and remain there until you are sent for. Is that clear?”

  Catherine was greatly relieved that her mother had calmed down so quickly. In fact, she was overjoyed. Was it really possible her mother would speak to Ridge and eventually give her consent? There was excitement in her heart as she nodded her head, casting Ridge a long look before quitting her mother’s tent.

  If her mother was willing to talk, she’d do anything the woman asked.

  Closing the tent flap behind her, she stood there a moment, listening to what was being said inside. She could hear her mother speaking about the qualities she wanted in a husband and their family’s history, ensuring that Ridge knew of their pedigree just as she had asked for his. She stayed as long as she dared, listening to things she’d already known, before finally moving away and heading back to her tent. There, she would wait for Charles to come and give her the good news. With her brothers all on her side, she knew it was only a matter of time before her mother gave in completely.

  It was all she could hope for.

  Heading into her tent, it was dark inside and she went straight to the fat taper next to the door. She fumbled around in the darkness for the flint and stone before finally lighting the flame. As she turned for her bed, she caught sight of something moving in the darkness.

  Her worst nightmare.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Good evening, my lady.”

  Startled, Catherine gasped when she saw Renard sitting in her only good traveling chair, one of her dogs on his lap. The other dog was on the pillow it had dragged off her bed, snoring soundly.

  Catherine’s eyes were riveted to Renard.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And what are you doing with my dog? Put him down this instant.”

  Renard looked at the dog who had been sitting not too contentedly on his lap, picked it up by the scruff of its neck, and set it down on the pillow next to the other one.

  “There,” he said. “Satisfied?”

  Catherine was both furious and frightened. “Get out,” she said. “You should not be here.”

  Renard held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I assure you, I mean no harm, my lady,” he said. “Your mother thought it would be best if I wait for you here so that we could have a few moments alone. Unfortunately, we’ve not had the opportunity with de Reyne hanging all over you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “My mother permitted you to wait here for me here?”

  “Aye.”

  Catherine could hardly believe it. It took her a moment to realize that the woman had planned this – that was why she had calmed down so fast and why she insisted Ridge and her sons remain while sending Catherine back to her tent.

  Where Renard was waiting.

  Damn her!

  “That was reckless and foolish of her,” Catherine said after a moment. “She had no right to do it. And Ridge de Reyne is not the reason we’ve not had any time alone. I do not want to be alone with you. I have made that very clear. I have no desire to make your acquaintance, so you must leave immediately.”

  Renard gazed at her steadily. “Do you always let other people form your opinions for you?”

  “People I trust, aye.”

  “Your brothers?”

  “Of course.”

  “De Reyne?”

  “Aye.”

  “What about your own mother?”

  Catherine sighed sharply. “She has her own wants,” she said, though she made sure to stay near the tent flap should she need to run. “She wants me to marry well so that it will benefit her and for no other reason than that. But I am not a desirable bride to those seeking wealth or prestige and she knows it. I have very little money and I will not inherit anything from my family, so if you are looking for either of those things, you must believe me when I tell you that I cannot bring you those things.”

  He was watching her closely. “And de Reyne does not care?”

  She shrugged. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “He does not seem to and we get along splendidly. How can I make you understand that I am not interested in you? I have chosen my suitor and it is not you.”

  “You’ve not given me a chance.”

  “I do not want to give you a chance. Will you please leave or must I scream?”

  “Give me five minutes of your time and if you do not find anything redeeming in me, I will leave you alone forever.”

  It was a good offer, but she eyed him suspiciously. Given what she’d heard about the man, she had no reason to believe he would honor it.

  “Nay,” she said after a moment. “Not now. It has been a tiring day and I wish to rest.”

  “Another time, then?”

  She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Will you please leave? I have asked you kindly twice. I will not ask you again. I will simply start screaming and you should know that Ridge and my brothers are in the next tent.”

  With a long sigh, Renard stood up. Truth be told, he was about her height and she wasn’t particularly tall. He was, however, more muscular and stronger than she was. As he meandered towards the tent opening, she moved away, out of range should he make a grab for her.

  She had no way of knowing he’d planned it that way.

  “I am sorry I have been a disappointment, my lady,” he said. “I truly hoped we could be friends.”

  Catherine indicated the tent flap. “Go,” she said. “Please.”

  He lifted his shoulders and turned for the door. “As you wish,” he said. But then, he came to an abrupt halt and turned in her direction. “But there is one more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “May I kiss your hand?”

  She frowned. “You may not.”

  He moved as if he were going to turn for the tent flap again, but it was to throw her off her guard. Suddenly, he whirled in her direction and reached out to grab her, sl
apping a hand over her mouth to silence her as he put his other arm around her, holding her tightly against his smelly, sweaty body.

  “I do not like being denied,” he hissed in her face. “You have never given me a chance and that his not fair. There is nothing about Ridge de Reyne that outshines me, yet you will not even speak with me. You have been unkind!”

  He removed his hand and pressed his mouth over hers, trying to kiss her, but Catherine was in panic mode. She screamed, muffled by his mouth, and began to violently struggle. Her fighting roused her dogs, who started barking because of the wrestling going on. Catherine was fighting him as hard as she could, but he was surprisingly strong. She managed to tear her mouth away from his and peel off a scream.

  That only made him bite her.

  Howling with pain as he bit her on the shoulder, Catherine managed to get a hand away from him and grabbed the first thing she could get her fingers on, which happened to be an iron sconce at the end of her bed. Grabbing hold, she smashed it over Renard’s head, enough so that the force of it caused him to release his grip. Both hands free, she gripped the sconce and swung it as hard as she could, hitting him squarely in the face. He screamed as blood spurted from his nose, falling backwards onto the ground.

  By that time, however, reinforcements had arrived. Ridge was the first one to burst into the tent, followed by Charles and Geoffrey. One look at Renard on the ground, with blood all over his face, and Ridge descended on him, beating the man within an inch of his life. Charles went to help him as Geoffrey went to his hysterical sister, pulling her away from the battle. The last Catherine saw of Renard, Ridge was holding the man over his head and literally tossing him out of the tent. As Ridge, Charles, and George followed Renard’s flying body, Geoffrey grabbed his sister by the face and forced her to look at him.

  “What in the hell happened?” he demanded. “Did he attack you?”

  Catherine was mess. She was frightened and furious, tears pouring down her cheeks. “He was waiting here when I entered,” she sobbed. “He said that Mother allowed him to. She let him in, Geoff!”

  Geoffrey groaned, closing his eyes against the horror of that news. As he turned to look at the tent flap, to see what was happening to de Luzie, he saw Charles standing in the doorway.

  The man’s face was pale.

  “I heard you,” he muttered, looking at his sister.

  And then he was gone.

  Geoffrey dropped his hands from Catherine, running after Charles. Instinctively, Catherine bolted after her brothers, rushing out of her tent and past Ridge and George, who had both beaten Renard into unconsciousness. She knew she should stop them from committing murder, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She truly believed Renard would have gravely injured her had she not fought back, so the man was getting what he deserved. She had the bite on her shoulder to prove his ill intent and she wasn’t sorry in the least that he was being thrashed.

  But she was concerned for Charles.

  The man seemed positively enraged.

  “You allowed de Luzie to wait for Catherine in her tent?” Charles was shouting as she came to the open flap of her mother’s tent. “You knew he was waiting for her when you told her to go to her tent, didn’t you?”

  Pale and taut, Blythe faced her sons. “I do not like your tone, Charles.”

  “I do not care if you don’t like it,” he exploded. “How could you do that? Knowing everything we told you about the man, how could you do it? Do you know that he attacked her? Those were the screams we heard!”

  Blythe sucked in a breath as if both startled and disappointed to hear that. Her gaze moved from her angry son to her daughter, standing in the tent flap.

  “Did he hurt you?” she asked.

  Catherine found the question ridiculous. Her hand was on his bite mark and she pulled it away so they could all see it. “What do you care?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What have you ever cared about me, Mother? You were prepared to let him have his way with me, with your permission, no less. You are a soulless, horrid bitch.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “You are a bitch!” Catherine screamed.

  She was weeping again, feeling so very disappointed and worthless. Her mother always had a way of making her feel so very worthless, but calling her a name she’d wanted to call her for a very long time, being pushed into it by Blythe’s actions, brought her some comfort. It truly did. It was a horrible thing to call her mother, but it was the truth.

  It had always been the truth.

  But Blythe was unmoved by her daughter’s tears and the name calling only served to enrage her. She was, however, moved by Charles’ anger.

  She didn’t want her favorite son to be angry with her.

  “I did not know he would do that,” she said to Charles. “I have been trying to introduce the man to your sister since yesterday and I had hoped that they could speak for a few moments. Mayhap she would see something attractive in him.”

  Charles looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “After everything we told you about him?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you truly so vain and stupid?”

  “You will not speak to me like that.”

  “I will when you behave so poorly,” he said. Exasperated, he lifted a hand to her as if to block her out of his line of sight completely. “Catherine is right; you are a bitch. A terrible, scheming bitch and I don’t want you here. You are going home tomorrow. Clearly, you are only here to harm your daughter in unimaginable ways and I will not allow it. Go home and stay there. Tell Father what you have done, for I most certainly will when I return home. Tell him how you put your daughter in a horrible position of defending herself against a man with no morals and even less judgment. Tell him what a horrible mother you are.”

  Blythe’s jaw began to work. “Do not say that. You will not say that about me.”

  “Aye, I will say that about you, because it is true,” Charles said, struggling with his rage and hurt. “I have tolerated your bias against your own daughter all of these years. I have watched you punish her and berate her and belittle her for the mere fact that she was born a girl and you never wanted a girl.”

  “It’s not true.”

  “It is!” he shouted. “You only wanted sons and when you bore a daughter, your last child, you made sure to punish her daily for having been born a girl. I have watched you torture her with your hatred and bitterness, and I prayed that bringing her to Durham would find her a husband who would finally love and respect her. I believe we have found that in Ridge de Reyne, only you are so selfish and vile that you would do anything to force her into the arms of a man who would treat her like an animal simply because he is the son of a count. That does not make him a good man, Mother. But it makes you a horrible woman.”

  A lone tear trickled out of Blythe’s left eye, streaming down her cheek. “How dare you say such things to me,” she hissed.

  Charles shook his head at her display of emotion. “You deserve every word,” he said. “If you were not my mother, you would find yourself out on the road with no coin, no hope, and no help. But I will not be as cruel to you as you are to your daughter. I am, however, sending you home on the morrow. Go home and stay there. I will return home after the joust tomorrow, but do not expect a warm reunion when I do. All I feel for you at the moment is contempt.”

  With that, he turned away, heading from the tent, putting his arm around Catherine and pulling her with him.

  They could hear Blythe sobbing as they walked away.

  “Are you sure you’re well?” Charles asked, struggling to calm down. “Should we send for a physic?”

  Catherine shook her head, her hand still over the bite on her shoulder. “I do not think so,” she said. “I can tend it myself. But Charles… what you said to Mother…”

  He put up a hand. “Not tonight,” he said. “I do not want to speak of it any further tonight. I want you to go with Ridge and sup with him. He’ll return you later wh
en you’re finished. Geoff and George and I will take care of de Luzie.”

  “But…”

  “Just… get out of here for now. Please.”

  By this time, they had reached Ridge and George as they stood over Renard’s beaten form. Catherine had tears in her eyes, distraught that Charles was so upset, that he’d been forced into defending her against the ugliness their mother perpetuated. Charles was usually the peacemaker but, in this case, there was no role for a peacemaker. Only a judge. He had judged and found Blythe wanting.

  But it broke Catherine’s heart that he’d been forced into it.

  “I’ll take him back to his camp,” Charles said, leaning over Renard to get a look at him. “He’s lucky I do not throw him in the river for what he’s done.”

  Ridge was standing there, gazing down at Renard unemotionally. “I thought about.”

  “I would not blame you if you did.”

  Ridge stared at de Luzie for a moment before looking at Charles. “I am to take your sister with me now?” he asked.

  Charles nodded. “You heard?”

  “I did. All of it.”

  Charles raked his hand through his dirty, blond hair. “I am sorry you had to hear that,” he said. “But do you mind? I do not want her here as long as my mother is here. There is no telling what more will happen, but if she is with you, I know she will be safe.”

  Ridge nodded faintly. “I’m glad you have asked me,” he said. “Because I was going to tell you that I was taking her and dare you to fight me on it.”

  Charles snorted softly. “Then it is a good thing we are thinking alike because I honestly doubt I could fight you tonight, or anyone else for that matter. I’m too damned tired.”

  Ridge’s lips twitched with a smile. “I was not going to admit it unless you were,” he said. “I doubt I could fight my own grandmother right now, so it is good we are of the same mindset.”

  With that, he left Charles deciding what to do with Renard as he went over to Catherine. She had stopped weeping, but she was pale and drawn. She met his gaze as he came upon her.