Eric smiled easily. ‘There’s a problem, Helvise?’
Helvise twisted her hands together. ‘A minor one, sir. It’s about the linens.’
‘The linens?’
‘Whilst you are away, would you like me to make a start on hemming the cloth you and Lady Rowena bought in the market?’
Eric looked utterly bemused. Rowena hid a smile. She understood that Helvise’s question was but a ploy so that the girl could speak to him. And he had no idea.
‘Saints, Helvise, domestic matters are in my wife’s hands now, ask Lady Rowena about the linens.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Helvise’s face seemed to slip, but she recovered quickly and lifted her gaze to Rowena. ‘My lady, shall I make a start on the hemming?’
Rowena smiled. ‘Please do. Helvise, I leave the domestic matters entirely in your hands. However, if you find yourself too busy, don’t trouble yourself.’ She let her gaze linger on Helvise’s belly and lowered her voice. ‘I hope to return to Monfort soon, but if I do not, I am sure you may apply to Sir Guy when your time comes.’
Sir Guy cleared his throat. ‘Of course she may. Happy to help.’
Rowena nodded. ‘I will also be asking my mother which of the local midwives she recommends. I shall send her to visit you.’
Helvise bowed her head. ‘Thank you, my lady.’
* * *
‘That was kind of you,’ Eric said, as they guided their horses up the rise to the highway. ‘I should have thought of it myself. It is Helvise’s first child and she is bound to be worried. I have no deep knowledge of such matters, but judging by her size it looks as though her time will be soon.’
‘I agree, I will speak to my mother as soon as we arrive. And if the babe surprises us, I am sure someone in the village will be able to help her.’ Leaning forward, Rowena patted Lily’s neck. They were hedged about by a double escort of her father’s men as well as Eric’s and they could surely hear what they were saying. She lowered her voice. ‘Eric, you do know Helvise is in love with you?’
Eric gave her an impatient look. ‘What nonsense.’
‘I don’t think so. Helvise is definitely in love with you.’
‘In that case, Helvise is making a big mistake.’
‘Eric, she’s hurting.’
‘You cannot lay that at my door, I did nothing to encourage her.’ His gaze tracked the flight of a pair of swans heading for the river. ‘The sooner Helvise learns that love is irrelevant, the happier she will be.’
Rowena blinked. ‘Love is irrelevant? How can you say that?’
‘Love won’t help Helvise. Rowena, you’ve been listening to too many ballads. They lie. People are weakened by love. What use is that?’ His smile was amused. ‘Life is tough and the best marriages are those based on cool logic.’
Rowena sat stiffly in the saddle. Her life had been enriched by her love for Mathieu. Certainly it had brought her pain, but life without love was surely dull and cold. The longing to find love again was fierce inside her. She hoped to share it with Eric. ‘You are thinking of our marriage?’
It cut her to the quick to hear Eric dismiss love so decisively. Since meeting him again, Rowena was beginning to realise that she had always been fond of him. It would be good to think that her fondness might be reciprocated. Eric was fond of her, he must be. He had been so kind in their wedding bed. He was simply shy of admitting it.
It came to her that if their marriage was to be the true partnership that she was hoping for, she must tell him how she felt. She took a deep breath.
‘Eric, you should know that to me our marriage is more than purely a business contract. I hold you in great esteem, I always have.’
He looked sharply at her. ‘I feel the same. Rowena, I hold you in the highest regard.’ His expression softened. ‘And our compatibility in the bedchamber is a prize I had never looked for. But don’t look for love from me, I cannot and will not love you.’
‘Cannot?’ Rowena frowned. Eric was deluding himself, he had to be. He had always been something of an enigma, but he must be capable of love. Already she’d seen evidence of the loyalty and affection that he was capable of rousing in others. She thought of their wedding feast, of the smiling faces around the table—Eric’s tenants and retainers felt genuine warmth and affection for him. She thought of her mother, who all those years ago had gone out of her way to find a place in the Sainte-Colombe household for the lost little boy who had captured her heart. And then there were the maidservants whose faces lit up on seeing him. They wouldn’t have idolised him like that if they hadn’t felt his warmth.
Surely a man who inspired loyalty, even devotion, in the way Eric did, was capable of love?
I want him to truly love me. The thought caught Rowena by surprise, but it was suddenly clear that she wanted Eric’s love more than she wanted her next breath. She didn’t understand it, she should not need his love. As a wife, she was more than lucky to have him hold her in the highest regard. And to value her as a bedfellow.
High regard wasn’t enough. She wanted love. She wanted passion.
‘Love is a millstone, Rowena. It causes no end of trouble, not to mention pain.’
She gave him a keen look, her instincts were telling her that they were getting to the root of it. ‘Pain?’
He nodded. ‘You know this already, you don’t need me to tell you. Think about it. Love got you retiring to a convent when you are clearly made for this world. A convent is the last place someone like you should spend your days. And you found yourself there simply because you fell in love with Mathieu de Lyon.’
‘Eric, I was enriched by what I felt for Mathieu.’
‘Enriched?’ He sent her a look of exasperation. ‘How can you say that? Love put you somewhere you had no place being. Rowena, you would have died if you’d stayed in that convent another day. Your parents knew that and, in your heart, so did you.’
‘I can’t deny that I am glad to be out of there.’ She paused. If Eric linked love with pain, it made sense that he would want to be free of it. That explained why he had always steered clear of emotional ties. He charmed and he flirted, but he wasn’t interested in anything more. Was he afraid of the pain he might feel?
This went back to his childhood. The little lost boy had found it hard to cope with what life had thrown him. That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how successful Eric had become despite his past. And yet...
What if, locked deep inside him, that lost little boy remained? What if that child still mourned for his lost family, for his mother and father?
Was the lost little boy crying so loudly that Eric the man was being denied his full life? Holy Mother, didn’t he realise that without love to pull him firmly into the world, he would always be standing outside the gate, looking in?
Rowena felt a chill wash over her. She was certain she had stumbled on the truth. This was why Eric was such a flirt. It might also explain why he kept women at arm’s length.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter whether you believe in love or not,’ she said, firmly. ‘Helvise loves you. Eric, it’s obvious.’
Manoeuvring Captain close, Eric reached across and touched the back of her hand. ‘Rowena, if you are imagining that Helvise and I—’
‘I’m not. I admit it gave me pause, but not any more.’
‘Dieu merci.’
With a quiet laugh, she leaned confidentially towards him. ‘When I first came to Monfort and saw her affection for you, I did think the baby was yours.’
His eyes widened. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’
She shrugged. ‘I am not certain. Your reputation certainly made me think.’
His expression was rueful. ‘My reputation. Rowena, to my knowledge I have no children.’
‘If you did, you would acknowledge them,’ she said, on a sudden
insight. Eric would never let a child suffer if he could help it.
Eric blinked. His eyes were very bright and she could see that her answer had both surprised and moved him. ‘I would and I am glad that you understand that.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Rowena, when I won Monfort, the previous tenant, Sir Ralph de Honnecourt, left without making his farewells. In my belief he neglected his obligations. Helvise was in a desperate state. Hurt and frightened.’
‘Sir Ralph is the father of her unborn child?’
‘She has never admitted as much, but I believe so. On that first night Helvise crept into my bedchamber.’ Eric fixed his gaze on a cloud low on the horizon. Dark colour stained his cheekbones.
‘She offered herself to you.’
‘How did you know?’
‘She was afraid you’d turn her out—she thought that if you bedded her, you might allow her to stay.’
‘You have it exactly. I swore to her that she would always have a place at Monfort and that she didn’t have to sleep with me to secure it.’ Green eyes met hers. ‘Rowena, I mean to honour that promise.’
‘I feel for Helvise,’ Rowena said, softly. ‘It must be dreadful to be abandoned when you are in so vulnerable a state. As for Sir Ralph de Honnecourt—well, he can’t have a chivalrous bone in his body.’
Eric grunted agreement.
The cavalcade had reached the main highway. Eric signalled to their escort and they spurred their horses into a canter. Guessing that Eric had her safety in mind—he wanted her inside her father’s castle walls as soon as possible—Rowena made no objection. It would give her time to think.
As the miles rocked by, she glanced thoughtfully at him. His sympathy for Helvise wasn’t surprising. Rowena hadn’t been born when Eric had arrived at Jutigny. However, she’d heard the tale so often, she knew it by heart.
It had been a snowy Christmas Eve and a guard had found a small child shivering by the gatehouse wall. Eric. The guard had summoned Lady Barbara and she had swept Eric into the castle where Eric had been fed and clothed. Lady Barbara had insisted that Eric was accepted as one of the household.
Rowena bit her lip and wondered how often he thought back to the snowy night he’d been found by the gatehouse. He’d been about six years of age, so he must remember it. He would have been cold and lonely and horribly confused. And doubtless grieving for his family.
Rowena’s mother had sent out search parties to look for whoever had left him by the gate. They had scoured the streets of both Jutigny and Provins, but no one had ever been found. It was as though Eric had materialised out of thin air.
‘You are a kind man, Eric,’ she murmured over the hoofbeats.
‘What’s that?’ Eric said.
Smiling, Rowena shook her head and they sped towards her father’s castle.
Chapter Eight
As they rode up to the portcullis of Jutigny Castle, Eric tipped back his head. Masons were working on the overhead arch. Eric had seen them that morning, but there was more activity than there had been earlier. The air was full of the chinking of chisels and the banging of hammers. A spiky network of wooden scaffolding hung from the upper courses of the gatehouse walls and a hoist creaked as it turned, hauling a great block of stone in a sling to the top. Scaffolding groaned as men wove past each other, nimble as dancers with hods of mortar balanced on their shoulders.
Rowena followed his gaze. ‘It looks as though Father has finally got round to setting our coat of arms on the front.’
Our coat of arms. Eric could scarcely believe it, he was no longer an outsider, by marrying Rowena he had become a Sainte-Colombe. He had a family. Finally, after all these years, he belonged.
Absently, Eric exchanged greetings with the guard. His head was full of the ramifications of his marriage as they trotted on to the drawbridge. Eric had imagined that he might have children one day, but he’d never thought to marry so high. Nor had he given any thought as to what it might be like to have a father-in-law and a mother-in-law. Luckily for him, Lord and Lady Sainte-Colombe weren’t strangers. They knew him as well as anyone, which made their acceptance of him into their family something of an accolade.
A blistering oath from one of the workmen cut into his thoughts.
Lips twitching, Rowena raised an eyebrow at him and he held in a grin.
Another virulent oath floated down from above. ‘Jesu, watch it!’
‘Look out!’
The hoist was swinging alarmingly, a quick glance told Eric a rope had worked loose and the stone was slipping. He plunged into battle mode. Snatching Rowena’s reins, he spurred through the arch and into the bailey.
They only just made it. The stone crashed on to the drawbridge, hitting the exact spot where they had been only moments ago. Wood cracked as the stone ripped through the slats and splashed into the moat.
No one spoke. A deadly chill settled on Eric’s heart. Breathing ragged, he stared through the splintered wood to the wash in the moat beneath.
Rowena was chalk white. He watched her swallow.
Fighting an unnerving rush of panic, Eric put lightness into his tone. ‘Mon Dieu, that was careless.’ There was no sense frightening Rowena more than she had already been frightened, but he was concerned, deeply concerned. A dark thought was taking shape at the back of his mind, turning the chill in his chest to ice. No—it couldn’t be... Pushing it aside, he added, ‘I shall have to speak to the master mason, you might have been killed. Come, let’s get you into the solar, your mother will be waiting for you.’
* * *
The next half-hour passed in a flurry of smiles, hugs and greetings as he and Rowena were welcomed back to the castle. Sir Macaire welcomed them at the entrance to the hall, beaming like a beacon. Rowena’s maid Berthe ran up, sniffling and smiling as she wiped away tears; maidservants lingered in passages and stairwells, chattering like sparrows about their marriage.
Eric hardly noticed. A dark thought had taken root in his mind. After what had happened at Monfort he couldn’t help but think that the broken hoist had to be more than a coincidence. Did Armand de Velay’s reach extend inside Castle Jutigny?
Finally, they reached the haven of the solar and were alone with Lord and Lady Faramus. Eric accepted a cup of wine from Lord Faramus and stood with him before the solar fire. He was unable to tear his gaze from Rowena who was sitting in the window seat talking to her mother. He heard Rowena ask Lady Barbara which midwife would be the best to send over to Monfort for Helvise, although he didn’t hear the answer because all he could think was that if Armand de Velay’s reach extended inside the castle, then Rowena wasn’t safe, even here. Lord, what was he to do?
He couldn’t let her out of his sight for a moment.
‘I’ve spoken to the master mason, Daniel,’ Lord Faramus was saying. Eric forced himself to pay attention. ‘He can’t fathom how that rope worked loose, he checked the pulleys himself this morning.’
‘Would you say he’s speaking the truth?’
Lord Faramus took a swallow of wine. ‘No question. Daniel is diligence itself, I can’t imagine what went wrong. I’ve ordered him to fit a new pulley and a stronger rope.’ He looked at his daughter. ‘Thank God Rowena wasn’t hurt.’
Eric spoke softly. ‘My lord, if you don’t object, I should like to speak to Daniel myself.’
‘By all means, but I don’t think you will glean anything more.’
‘None the less, I would like to speak to him.’
The count gave him a narrow look. ‘What’s in your mind, de Monfort?’
Eric made a dismissive movement and forced a smile. ‘As you say, mon seigneur, most likely it was simply a regrettable accident.’ He was reluctant to admit it with Rowena in earshot, but that falling stone had filled him with suspicions. Did Sir Armand have an ally at Jutigny? One who was prepared to kill so that S
ir Armand could inherit the family holdings? He turned a shoulder on Rowena and lowered his voice. ‘My lord, has Lady Rowena been involved in other accidents?’
Frowning, Lord Faramus poked a log with the toe of his boot. ‘Lord, no, there’s been nothing like that.’
‘You are certain there was nothing before she entered the convent?’
‘Nothing. And before you ask, if anything untoward had happened in the convent, the nuns would have informed me. There is only what happened today and the incidents at Monfort. It’s a pity we have no proof of who was behind them.’
Eric stared into the flames. ‘We can’t even say for certain that Lady Rowena was the intended victim, but it would be foolish to dismiss it as a possibility.’ He grimaced. ‘On the day I escorted your daughter to the manor I did mark riders following us, but I made the mistake of thinking you had ordered your men to keep an eye on us. If I had realised sooner that the strangers in the village were nothing to do with you, I would have been more wary and Lady Rowena might not have had that near miss in the chase.’
Eric’s father-in-law made a sound of exasperation. ‘Why would I send men after you? I trust you implicitly, de Monfort. Always have, always will.’ He looked warmly at him. ‘Thought you understood that. When you were knighted I let you choose colours that matched mine. Don’t let every knight do that. Thought you understood.’
Eric’s throat tightened. ‘Thank you, mon seigneur.’
However, flattering though it was to have the confidence of the Count of Sainte-Colombe, Eric didn’t feel any happier. Someone in Jutigny was trying to kill Rowena. ‘My lord, I need to speak to you in confidence, it is a matter of some urgency.’
‘It concerns my daughter?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Count Faramus set his cup on a side table with a snap and gestured to the door. ‘We can talk in the chapel.’
‘Thank you. My lord, I would feel happier if Sir Macaire attended the ladies while we are absent.’
Eric endured a searching glance from Rowena’s father, who gave a brusque nod. ‘Very well, de Monfort, if you think it necessary.’
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