When the solar door closed behind Eric and Rowena’s father, Lady Barbara was quick to change the subject. She took Rowena’s hand. ‘You are happy with our choice of husband?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘And he is as kind to you now as he was when you were a child?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Lady Barbara’s eyes bored into her. ‘I hope that all is well in the bedchamber?’
‘Mama!’
‘Come, Rowena, there’s no need to be coy with me.’
Rowena rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Mother, everything is fine.’
Lady Barbara leaned back into the cushions with a sigh. ‘Thank goodness. I knew I was right about that boy. I knew that if anyone could persuade you round to marriage it would be Eric.’ She smiled. ‘I always wanted a love match for you.’
‘Mama, you mustn’t delude yourself, Eric and I are not in love.’
‘Not yet,’ Lady Barbara said, softly. ‘But you will be.’
Rowena wasn’t so sure. She grimaced. ‘Mama, I am fully aware that Papa manipulated us into marriage.’ When her mother would have spoken, Rowena swept on. ‘Papa relied on Eric’s innate sense of chivalry to force him to marry me.’
Lady Barbara’s smile was complacent. ‘That is certainly true.’
‘It wasn’t fair on Eric.’
Her mother shrugged. ‘I don’t see him complaining. God willing, Eric stands to be count one day. And if all is well between the two of you, I don’t see the problem.’
Rowena twisted a cushion fringe between her thumb and forefinger and tried to pin down her sense of unease. ‘I married him to save my pride. And he did rush me.’
‘Rowena, you needed to be rushed, you had walled yourself in at St Mary’s. Sir Eric helped you escape.’
‘Mama, I admit I was foolish going in there in the first place. At the time it seemed to be my only course.’ She plucked at the fringe. ‘I knew the king would let me have my way and I played on that. Forgive me?’
Her mother patted her hand. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. All is well, you can be happy with Eric.’
‘Mother, it is not a love match.’ Rowena jerked on a silken tassel. Her mother simply didn’t understand. Eric had married her because he was a chivalrous man. And, as her mother had also pointed out, he had married her for dynastic reasons—the Sainte-Colombe acres loomed large in his mind. ‘Not that I ever expected a love match, particularly after the disaster of my broken betrothal with Lord Gawain.’ She took a deep breath and ignored a stab of...what? Longing? Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant. ‘Never mind, it is done. We are married and I shall have to get used to it.’
‘I can see that marriage might take some adjusting to after life in a nunnery.’
‘Aye. Mama, were you very angry when I entered the convent?’
‘Far from it, I was heartily relieved.’
Rowena gaped. ‘Mother?’
‘Rowena, it was your father who promoted the match with Lord Gawain, not I. I always favoured Sir Eric.’
‘You did?’
‘Eric is like the son I never had. Incidentally, your father would never admit it, but I am certain he feels the same way. Unfortunately, a long-standing agreement with the family of one of his allies forced him to favour a match with Lord Gawain. With Lord Gawain’s holdings in Meaux eventually being added to ours, it would have been the greatest of alliances. I couldn’t argue with that.’
‘But you weren’t entirely in agreement?’
‘No. And when you and Lord Gawain agreed to part, I realised a little time was necessary for your father to adjust.’ She smiled. ‘Also it occurred to me that you would need to come to terms with your broken betrothal. I knew you would be safe in the convent.’
‘You’re saying that Eric was always your choice?’
‘Always. It simply took time for your father to come round to my way of thinking. It helped that he admires Sir Eric for rising through the ranks.’ Gently, Lady Barbara removed Rowena’s hand from the silken tassel. ‘Don’t do that, dear, it’s unravelling and I was quite proud of it. It took me an age to make.’
Rowena frowned at the straggling threads and folded her hands on her lap. ‘Sorry, Mama.’
It was something of a revelation to hear that her mother had considered Eric as a prospective bridegroom for some while, and it was even more of a revelation to discover that it had been her mother who had persuaded her father round to her way of thinking. Didn’t her mother usually defer to her father? Rowena had always assumed so. In this case it seemed that she was mistaken.
Rowena’s nails cut into her palms. Saints, in the rush to marry, she hadn’t even thought about her godfather, the king. The king had approved her betrothal to Lord Gawain and after that had fallen apart he had been good enough to approve her choice of convent. What would the king do when he realised she had left St Mary’s and married without his permission? Everything had happened so quickly, she hadn’t even considered his reaction.
‘Mama, what do you suppose the king will do when he learns I have married?’
Lady Barbara gave her a candid look. ‘His Grace won’t be best pleased. He asked to be informed of your progress in the convent, I believe he planned to attend your Profession Day. He will have to be told about your marriage, particularly since your father owes him fealty for his French lands. Ordinarily, the king would expect to give his consent to any marriage of his vassals’ heirs, approving only of the alliances that further the interests of France. Ultimately, I am sure that His Grace will see, as we do, that marriage to Eric suits you better than convent life. And, most importantly, he will see that your father has chosen a man with the character to succeed him and hold his lands securely.’
‘Eric will have to swear fealty to the king for our French lands,’ Rowena said.
‘Quite so.’
A scuffling sound drew their attention to the door.
‘Whatever’s that?’ Lady Barbara asked.
‘One of the servants?’ Rising, Rowena went quietly to the door and opened it.
Sir Macaire was standing on the landing with his back to the door. He turned. ‘My lady, all is well?’
‘Thank you, yes.’ Rowena brought her brows together. ‘Sir Macaire, what are you doing out there?’
Sir Macaire cleared his throat, he looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘Your husband asked me to stay here in case...in case you should need anything.’
‘He asked you to guard me.’
Lady Barbara came across. ‘Very sensible too, given recent events. Sir Macaire, there is no need to stand outside like a sentry. Join us.’ She gestured at the side table. ‘Would you care for a drink?’
Giving Rowena a sheepish look, Sir Macaire strode in. ‘Thank you, Countess, I’d enjoy a cup of ale.’
Lady Barbara poured him some ale and returned to the window seat.
Rowena shot a glance at Sir Macaire. ‘Mama, is this necessary?’
‘We can’t be too careful.’
Ice trickled down Rowena’s spine. Could Armand really be intending to kill her? Was his ambition so large that he would stoop to murder? ‘You think that my cousin is behind the accident at the gatehouse?’
‘It’s hard to believe it. Even though I’ve never liked Sir Armand, he is the most God-fearing of men. Some would say dangerously so.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He takes too much from his tenants, and most of his revenues end up in church coffers. His lands have been impoverished. Rowena, your father has no wish to see Sainte-Colombe treated in like manner.’
‘Yes, I see that.’
Her mother patted her hand. ‘Given Sir Armand’s interest in the church, it is hard to imagine that he would wish you dead. None the less, Sir Eric is right to consider it. We shouldn�
�t take any chances.’
‘Surely I am safe in Jutigny?’
‘I certainly hope so. None the less, I can’t fault Eric for wanting to take extra care.’
Rowena stared at the floor. Events had swept her along so swiftly, she’d not had time to think. The first incident in the chase had been easily dismissed. Poachers. The second incident had given her pause, but she and Eric had been married so swiftly afterwards, her head had been in a whirl. And then there had been their wedding feast and their first night as a married couple.
‘And then in no time, we arrived here,’ she murmured.
‘What’s that, dear?’
‘I feel as though I’ve been swept away by a tidal wave.’ Rowena rubbed her brow. A tidal wave that was Eric de Monfort. His seduction had overwhelmed her, pushing out all thought, including that most disturbing of realisations—her cousin could be trying to kill her. Armand might want her dead.
Rowena sat very straight. Surely she was safe in her father’s solar?
‘Mama, what would happen if Armand succeeded in killing me? Wouldn’t he be the first to be suspected?’
Her mother’s expression became pained. ‘Don’t think of it, dearest.’
‘Mother, this must be faced. What would happen?’
‘Your father and I would be desolate,’ her mother whispered. ‘Desolate.’
‘And guilt would have to be proved.’ Lost in dark thoughts, Rowena fell silent. If she wasn’t safe in Jutigny, where would she be safe?
* * *
Gripping Rowena firmly by the hand, Eric led her up the winding stairs of the south tower. For the sake of security, he had agreed with his father-in-law that the chamber at the top would be theirs. Guards were already posted at each of the lower levels—guards Lord Faramus swore were loyal and could never be bought. Eric had insisted that his own Sergeant Yder was in charge of them.
Eric’s mind was racing in the way it usually did only in combat. He had gained a little peace of mind when Sir Macaire had volunteered to use the chamber below theirs until they were certain the danger to Rowena had passed. He had relaxed some more when Alard had agreed to sleep on the landing outside their door. Even so, worry gnawed at his insides. It was obvious that he and Rowena must remain in Jutigny for the time being, running away would solve nothing. Someone wanted Rowena dead and he had to catch them. If Armand de Velay was the guilty party, he had to be stopped.
The decision to stay at Jutigny had been the hardest that Eric had had to make, and he was praying he’d got it right. If any harm should come to Rowena he would never forgive himself, but Lord Faramus was immovable on this. Lord Faramus wanted proof of Armand de Velay’s perfidy. He wanted to know that more than coincidence was at work here. With Rowena’s agreement, she was to be used as bait.
Eric’s jaw tightened. The count’s ruthlessness concerned him, this was Rowena they were talking about. Eric wasn’t used to having a wife to consider and the thought of her being put at risk was almost unbearable. But he had done what he could to ensure her safety. The tower bedchamber had once been used as a strong room, the oak door was inches thick. Then there were the guards at the lower levels; Sir Macaire; Alard...
Naturally, on their way up Rowena noticed the guards. As they passed the first and second floors, her expression became more and more pensive. They climbed higher. Rowena’s veil floated out behind her, seeming to shiver with the swiftness of their climb. He wasn’t looking forward to telling her that she was to become a prisoner in her father’s castle.
At the top, the heavy door groaned as Eric pushed it open. The servants had been quick to respond to his orders. A large bed was already set up and they had shifted Rowena’s belongings in from her usual chamber. There were a couple of coffers painted with blue-and-white swirls and, on a side table, an ivory comb and polished hand mirror. A damask cloak was draped over the bed, it was lined with fur. Eric’s travelling chest was already in place, and Alard must have seen to it that his armour had been brought up—his shield was propped in a corner; his coat of mail hung on a pole. It gave him an odd pang to see Rowena’s things and his stowed so closely together. There was no fireplace here, he noticed. He would have to arrange for braziers to be brought up. He didn’t want her to be cold.
Rowena took a shaky breath. ‘This is the chamber you have chosen?’
The door squeaked as he closed it, and Eric reminded himself to get someone to oil the hinges. ‘Aye.’
‘The window’s so high and narrow all I can see is sky. What’s wrong with my usual bedchamber?’
‘Nothing. However, for the time being we ought to use this one. It’s safer.’
‘More easily guarded, you mean,’ she said quietly. She drew her hand from his and wandered to the side table to pick up her mirror. ‘I didn’t think to see this again. Mirrors weren’t permitted at the convent.’
Eric watched in silence as her gaze fell on his chain mail and travelling chest. He wished he could read her.
She raised her eyes to his, her face was strained. ‘I am to be a prisoner.’
‘Not exactly.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s worse than that.’
‘Worse?’
Stepping up to her, he covered her hands with his. Her fingers felt cold, softly he ran his thumb over them. ‘With your agreement, Rowena, you are to force the assassin to show his hand. If Sir Armand is behind these incidents, we have to draw him out. And if he has an ally here in the castle, we have to uncloak them.’
She didn’t respond at first. A draught from the window was playing across the back of his neck. Blue eyes gazed into his. A skein of golden hair lay across her breast.
‘I am to be used as bait. With my agreement.’
‘Rowena, it’s the best way of catching him. You will be perfectly safe up here. As of this moment, the south tower is off-limits to all but a select few. The guards have been hand-picked by your father and myself, and they have orders never to leave their post unattended. Sir Macaire has taken the chamber below this one. Alard—’
‘I thought that in marrying you I would regain some measure of freedom.’ In the quiet of the tower room, her sigh was loud and her smile sad. ‘Yet here I am. It seems that I have simply exchanged one form of prison for another.’
Eric’s heart felt like lead. He reached for that bright twist of hair, winding it round his finger. ‘Rowena, you are not really a prisoner. I don’t want to confine you and I wouldn’t dream of forcing you into agreeing. But you must see that this is the only way.’
‘Is it?’ She smiled. ‘We could run away. We could leave all this behind us.’ A wave of her hand encompassed the tower room, the castle and—Eric suspected—every last acre her father owned.
‘Everything?’
‘Everything.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We could ride out into the world and hide. We could step into new lives and become other people. There must be somewhere we can be safe.’
They could become other people? Mad though it was, Eric found himself actually considering her suggestion. For an instant. Firmly, he shook his head. He’d fought like a demon to win his spurs and marrying into Rowena’s family was part of that. He was going to be steward of Sainte-Colombe, he wasn’t about to toss that away. He was determined to prove himself worthy of the honour he’d been given—two honours—for having Rowena as his wife was just as much an honour as having the care of her father’s lands.
‘We can’t walk away from our responsibilities here, it wouldn’t work. How would we live? What would we do? And what about your parents? It would kill them.’
She sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. It wouldn’t work.’
He looked intently at her. ‘So you’ll stay?’
‘Yes, Eric, I’ll stay. I’ll act as bait.’ Her expression lightened and she curled her fingers into his tunic. ‘Only please tell me I don’t h
ave to stay in this tower the entire time.’
‘No, no. You may wander freely within the castle if you promise you will let Sergeant Yder know your plans. He will ensure that two of the guards will accompany you.’
‘I promise.’
‘At all times. Rowena, there are to be no exceptions.’
An eyebrow shot up. ‘What about when I need to go to the privy?’
‘The guards will check before you enter and wait outside. Rowena, I will have your word on this.’
‘You have it.’
‘Good. Your mother can visit you up here at any time and you will have your maid.’
‘What about riding?’
‘Only with me.’ Eric cupped her face with his hand and found himself saying something that he had never expected to say to any woman. ‘Rowena, I will not lose you. I will guard you with my life. You are mine and you are precious to me.’
He gave her a slightly bemused smile, for what he’d just said had surprised him. Yet it was true, Rowena was precious to him. She was his wife. She was the greatest gift he had ever been given and he was going to cherish her.
She returned his smile and lightly touched his cheek. ‘Thank you, Eric.’
When she tipped her face up in that way and looked at him through eyes that were soft with what looked very much like affection, she was irresistible. Eric slid his arms about her waist. Her mouth was close. Tempting. If he kissed her, the tightness in his belly—concern for her safety—would surely ease. The thought of her being hurt made him sick at heart.
Reaching up, Rowena ran her fingers through Eric’s hair, pushing it back from his eyes so she could read him better. ‘I’ve always liked the colour of your hair,’ she murmured. ‘The auburn streaks make it gleam. In summer they lighten beautifully.’
An eyebrow lifted. ‘You like my hair?’ He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek. A warm kiss landed on Rowena’s ear. ‘I am glad it meets with your approval.’
Rowena let her fingers sift through the dark strands. It was very pleasurable, standing with Eric in the quiet of the south tower. It was...companionable. How strange. It looked as though her cousin was trying to kill her; she and Eric had not been married above a day, and yet she felt perfectly at ease with him. It felt as though they belonged together. Did he feel the same?
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