The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I know the bargain you struck with him.”

  “And why is he not coming?”

  “Because he found someone better to marry,” he said. “Renard is gone, Mother. He left this afternoon and a rich earl’s daughter was along with him. Did you truly think you could keep a man like that occupied with a paltry dowry and no property?”

  Blythe eyed him for a long, tense moment. “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” Charles said. “Who do you think told me where you were and why? You said yourself that he must have told me everything.”

  That hit Blythe in the gut. She stiffened and her pale cheeks began to grow pink with rage and perhaps even embarrassment. The composure she’d held since Charles’ appearance was fracturing.

  “He did not leave,” she hissed. “Where is he?”

  “I told you,” Charles said calmly. “He told me where you were and why you were here before he left. He wanted me to come and tell you that he had decided against your bargain.”

  Blythe sat back in her seat, her gaze on her son as she mulled over what he told her. She was struggling with disbelief, but she was also struggling with realization. What Charles told her made perfect sense – who else would have known she was sitting in the tavern in town? There was only one answer to that. Renard was ambitious and ruthless, but evidently he was also untrustworthy. She didn’t know why she thought she could trust him, a man who maimed other men simply for the thrill of it. Apparently, taking Catherine from de Reyne had lost its appeal.

  He’d moved on.

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “If that is true, then it is of little matter,” she finally said, averting her gaze. “There are plenty of titled young lords in search of a wife. It’s not like he was the only one, but I am disappointed. He did seem quite interested.”

  Charles watched her struggle with her disenchantment. “There may be other young lords in search of a wife, but they will not be for Catherine.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she is already married.”

  Blythe’s eyes widened. “What’s this you say?” she gasped. “To whom?”

  “Who do you think?”

  Blythe blinked. Her mouth was starting to work as her shock, her outrage, grew. “Nay,” she hissed. “Not de Reyne.”

  Charles nodded. “He will make her a very fine husband,” he said. “Unfortunately for him, he must have you as his wife’s mother, so he is getting the worse end of the bargain.”

  Blythe stood up, her dark eyes blazing. “I did not give my permission for this,” she seethed. “Where are they? I demand you take me to them!”

  Charles didn’t move. “Sit down, Mother.”

  “Do you hear me, Charles? Take me to them this instant!”

  Still, Charles didn’t move. He looked at his mother, feeling great disillusionment himself. He still couldn’t believe his mother was capable of such things, such terrible things, but now that he knew, he wasn’t going to let his guard down. What Blythe did to Catherine, she could very well do to any of them, and he wasn’t going to let her. He was a good son but, in this case, he was about to be a disobedient one.

  Blythe had to be stopped, once and for all.

  “I will not,” he said flatly. “They are being married as we speak and the marriage will soon be consummated and there is nothing you can do. Catherine is out of your grasp and you and I will speak of what is to become of you now.”

  Blythe was confused and enraged. “What are you talking about?”

  Charles couldn’t bring himself to feel any pity for her. In fact, all he could feel was disgust and he wondered if he’d ever get over it.

  “When I was young, I thought you could do no wrong,” he said. “But the years have shown me that I was quite mistaken, and the past few days have shown me what you are capable of. For a mother to so blatantly disregard the welfare of her child is beyond contemptable. You have shown me what you a really are – a wicked, evil woman who is only concerned for herself and I want no part of you. I am ashamed that you are my mother.”

  Blythe was trembling with emotion. “You cannot judge me,” she said. “I did what I had to do.”

  “By trying to wed your daughter to a man who tried to kill her?” Charles snapped. “We all told you what Renard de Luzie was like, but you would not listen. You would not even protect your own daughter from a man who was as dark and evil as you are. I believe the two of you truly are kindred spirits.”

  Blythe’s gaze lingered on him before she slowly sat back down again. “You do not understand, Charles,” she said. “Women are not to have the choice of who they marry. It is always up to the parent. My own mother negotiated the contract with your father. He took my dowry, which was every cent my parents had, and squandered it all. Did you know that? Edmund de Tuberville had no money of his own when he married me, but he had the name. Always the good name. I did not love him. My love was a young man my mother considered unsuitable, so I was forced into the marriage with Edmund. If I have done the same thing to Catherine… it was because it was done to me.”

  Charles hadn’t heard that story before. Perhaps now he understood her actions a little more, but it didn’t excuse her behavior. Oddly enough, he could see the hurt beneath her rock-hard façade. For Blythe, that was quite unusual.

  “That does not mean it is right,” he said. “What you did was wrong, Mother. So very wrong. Don’t you understand that?”

  Blythe wouldn’t look at him. “It is the way these things are done.”

  Charles was becoming exasperated. “Mayhap Grandmama betrothed you to Father without your consent, but at least he didn’t try to kill you,” he said. “Or beat you. Father is a gentle man.”

  Blythe sighed faintly, perhaps reliving the life she considered so wasted. After a moment, she smiled weakly, but it was more like a grimace. “Gentle and about as exciting as water,” she muttered. “Before we were married, I considered committing myself to the cloister. Mayhap I should reconsider that. Truthfully, I have never been happy with your father. My life with him… it was not my life I lived. It was my mother’s. Mayhap it is time for me to leave your father to his maps, his books, and leave you to live your own lives. It is clear that I am not respected, nor am I needed.”

  Charles wasn’t going to get sucked into her swamp of self-pity. He simply lifted his shoulders. “Mayhap you would be happier that way,” he said. “You can become a beguine, a woman who serves the church but is not a nun. Wealthy widows often do.”

  “I am not a widow.”

  “The church you commit yourself to does not have to know that.”

  Blythe continued looking away, out into the common room, reflecting on not only the past few days, but perhaps her entire adult life. Charles sensed that the defiance had gone out of her, but there was still something unsteady about her.

  He wanted her out of Durham.

  “Where is your carriage?” he asked.

  Wrested from her musings, Blythe glanced at him as she reached out to collect her wine cup. “Behind the livery across the street,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because you are going home now,” he said. “Where are the soldiers I sent with you?”

  “I made them stay in the tavern next to the livery.”

  “Then let us go over there together and summon them,” he said. “You are not staying here. You are going home.”

  Blythe didn’t fight him on it. There wasn’t any point. The battle was over and it appeared that Ridge de Reyne had won the war, so there wasn’t any point in waiting for the son of a count who would never come. When Charles stood up, she rose as well, pulling her cloak tightly about her slender shoulders.

  “Do Geoffrey and George know I am here?” she asked.

  Charles indicated the entry door and they started walking towards it. “They do.”

  Blythe pondered that a moment. “Are you truly not going to let me see Catherine before I leave?”

  “Absolutely not,” Charles sai
d. “She does not want to see you. Before you get angry about it, you only have yourself to blame, so go home. Stay home. Behave yourself and mayhap someday she’ll want to see you again. But do not be surprised if she does not want to.”

  Blythe simply nodded. She was defeated, weary, and muddled. Too much of her life had been defeated, weary, and muddled. Truth be told, she really didn’t want to go home but, at the moment, she had no choice. She would return to Keswick and perhaps consider becoming a ward of the church. She found she simply couldn’t stomach life at Keswick any longer.

  In fact, she couldn’t stomach much of anything any longer.

  Such was the defeat of Blythe de Tuberville, Lady Thornewaite.

  This time when her carriage rode out of town, Charles followed it to make sure it got well away.

  This time, for good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I don’t feel any different,” Catherine said. “Do I look different?”

  Ridge chuckled as they crossed from the cathedral, heading towards a stone bridge that spanned the River Wear and led to the western part of Durham where the competitors’ encampment was. However, it also led to a portion of the town that everyone had to pass through coming in from the west and there were plenty of homes and a few businesses in that section of town, including two taverns.

  “You do look different,” he said. “You look like the wife of a powerful and much-respected knight. You look like Lady de Reyne.”

  Catherine’s smile broadened. “Lady de Reyne,” she repeated softly, rolling the name off her tongue. “She is a very fortunate lady.”

  “And her husband is a fortunate man.”

  Catherine looped her hand into the crook of his elbow, holding him tightly as the bridge came into view. “He’s handsome, too,” she said, watching him roll his eyes. “He’s very handsome. And sweet.”

  “Do not let my opponents hear you say that.”

  Catherine giggled, feeling lighter of heart than she’d ever felt in her life. She felt as if she were walking on air, giddy as she’d never been giddy before. They’d just come from the massive Durham Cathedral where a quick prayer by one of the priests, secured by Payne and witnessed by Payne, had seen Ridge de Reyne and Lady Catherine de Tuberville become husband and wife. It had been brief, and expensive, but effective.

  Now, they were married.

  With Cabal plodding along after them, being led by Ridge, Catherine thought they were returning to the encampment, but they walked right past it.

  Catherine watched it go.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Ridge pointed on up ahead. “Did you come into town this way?”

  Catherine looked around. “I think so,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because there are a couple of taverns at this end.”

  “What do we need a tavern for?”

  He looked at her. “Do you want to consummate our marriage in my tent with three dogs as chaperones? Or would you like to go someplace where we will have some privacy?”

  She looked at him, shocked, before breaking down into embarrassed giggles. “I… I suppose I hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “I mean, I knew we would, but… now?”

  Ridge nodded. “The blessing mean nothing without the consummation,” he said. “We can spend a couple of hours in the tavern and then return in time for me to make my bout.”

  He sounded businesslike about it, not at all like a besotted new husband. Catherine fell silent as they walked along the road, heading into the western portion of the town. It was mostly residential here, with wattle and daub homes, two and three stories tall, and the occasional stone cottage or business. There was a mix. But the fact that they were going to consummate the marriage so abruptly seemed disappointing somehow. His businesslike tone had only made it worse. She knew that their marriage wasn’t valid until they did so, but still… he seemed so rushed.

  Wasn’t he as excited as she was?

  As Catherine mulled over the speedy event of their marriage, Ridge took her over to a three-storied, narrow tavern with a sign above the door that said The Olde Yew Tree. He tethered Cabal to an iron post outside and took Catherine by the hand, leading her into the cold innards. It was a very small common room and the tavernkeeper saw his new patrons right away, rushing to greet them. Ridge asked the man to have someone tend his horse before telling him that he needed a room for the night.

  The tavernkeeper was more than happy to oblige with both requests.

  As Cabal was tended by the man’s red-haired son, he took Catherine and Ridge up the creaky stairs to the second floor, which leaned precipitously. There was a chamber overlooking the rear kitchen yard and one overlooking the street on this level, both vacant, and Ridge chose the one overlooking the street with its sloping floor and enormous bed. When they reached the chamber, Ridge asked for food and drink, sending the man scurrying off.

  As the door closed behind him, Ridge moved to unstrap his broadsword and unfasten his belt while Catherine went over to the window overlooking the street. There was a bench seat in front of the window and she sat on it, looking outside, noting the people going about their daily business seeming like nothing in the world was amiss. Life was normal for them and she envied that.

  “You’ve grown quiet,” Ridge said as he placed his sword upon the table. “What are you thinking?”

  Catherine propped her elbow on the windowsill, her chin in her hand. “A few things,” she admitted. “I suppose there is much on my mind. This has all been so overwhelming.”

  “True enough. Is something troubling you?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Do you think Charles has spoken to my mother yet?”

  Ridge pulled his belt off. “Probably.”

  Catherine sighed. “Because of her, we have rushed everything,” she said. “A rushed courtship, a rushed marriage, and now a rushed… wedding night. It’s not even a wedding night, but a wedding afternoon.”

  Ridge watched her, his gaze moving over her beautiful hair, the curve of her back. “I know,” he said. “And I am sorry for that, truly. I wish we had all of the time in the world and I wish I’d known you all your life but, unfortunately, neither is true. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed more concerned with having the marriage completed than the joy it signifies. I am very happy, Catie. I hope you are, too.”

  That eased her mind quite a bit to know that he was excited, too. She smiled, almost sheepishly.

  “Or course I am,” she said as she continued to watch the people on the street below. “Do you think we’ll ever be like them?”

  Ridge didn’t know what she meant so he came up behind her, looking at what she was looking at. “Who?”

  “The people going about their business without a care in the world,” she said, turning around to look at him. “Honestly, now that Renard is gone and my mother is under control, I feel a bit disoriented. Is it possible that our life will be peaceful from now on? Because we’ve not known peace since nearly the moment we met.”

  He sat down beside her on the bench, cupping her face with a big hand. “It is not only going to be normal, it is going to be wonderful,” he assured her softly. “Every moment of every day from this point forward will be dedicated to your peace and happiness.”

  She smiled, putting her hand over his. “We’ve not even discussed where we’re going to live,” she said. “We’ve never discussed anything like that. Will we continue to follow the tournament circuit now?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve not thought about it, either. What do you want to do?”

  Catherine pondered the question. “I would like to see a tournament the way it is meant to be seen,” she said. “One where I am not dodging someone who is trying to abduct me. Mayhap we can follow the circuit for a little while, until we decide what to do. I do not wish to disrupt your life more than I already have.”

  “You’ve not disrupted it at all,” he said. “But the tournament circuit is my source of income, so
the more income we have saved, the better for us. Lynebank is in need of repairs, so we are going to spend money.”

  “Do you think we could visit it soon?”

  “Of course. I would like for you to see it.”

  “And mayhap we can buy some of those black and white cows you want to breed?”

  He grinned. “All in good time, Lady de Reyne,” he said. “Now that I have you, that plan will come into action much sooner than I originally anticipated. I should not like to keep you traipsing all over England without a proper home. You deserve one.”

  She put her hands on his big face, leaning forward to kiss him just as there was a knock on the door. As she released him, Ridge stood up and went to the door, opening it to admit the tavernkeeper and a serving wench with trays of food and drink. They set everything down on the table and quickly vacated the chamber. Ridge shut the door behind them and threw the bolt, locking it.

  Catherine was already up, moving to the table to see what kind of food there was. It was simple, but plentiful – gammon boiled with beans and carrots to create a delicious stew, plenty of bread and butter, and a fruit compote that was quite sweet. Catherine liked that the best, slathering it on her bread as they sat down to a fine meal.

  While Catherine seemed enamored by the food, Ridge found himself mostly drinking the ale. It was cheap, and had chaff in it, but it was strong. He found he needed it after the day they’d had. At the tournament field, they were well into the afternoon bouts and if he listened closely, he could hear the distant roar of the crowds. That was his life – the crowds, the competition, the victory.

  But now, he had a much different life ahead of him.

  He wasn’t sorry in the least.

  But Catherine had been right; everything had happened very fast. He didn’t even know how old she was. He didn’t even know her middle name. All things he probably should have known before he married her, but the rapid sequence of events had prevented that. He knew what he needed to know – she was sweet, beautiful, and brave. As he’d told her, the rest… well, the rest they would learn together.