Her Dark and Dangerous Lord

by Anne Herries

  ‘What is wrong?’ Stefan asked of the physician. ‘Is she better or not? Her skin feels cool…and she opened her eyes for a moment.’

  ‘She is sleeping because she is exhausted,’ Ali said as he looked down at her. ‘She will live, my lord, but her recovery may be slow—and she will need your help.’

  Stefan looked down at the woman. He had saved her from the sea and brought her to his home for Ali to nurse. She was beautiful, it was true, but he had seen lovely women before; he had taken those he desired to his bed but none had touched the inner core he guarded. This one was no different. She had tugged at something deep inside him as she lay hovering between life and death, but once she was well he would help her to find safety and then forget her.

  ‘We are sorry to learn of your tragic loss,’ Comte St Orleans said as he welcomed Harry to his home in Normandy. ‘Your late arrival made us wonder if something had happened and when your letter came my daughter was much affected by the tragedy.’

  ‘I thank you for your kind words, sir,’ Harry said and glanced at the young woman standing just behind her father. She was as beautiful as always and his heart caught with love, and yet his grief was still so raw and so terrible that he could not summon a smile for her. ‘I was delayed, for I have employed agents to search for any sign of Anne. I know there is little hope of her being found alive—we could see no sign of her in the water. However, if her body were found, I could at least tell our family that she rests in peace.’

  Claire came forward, a look of such sorrow and sweetness on her face that Harry caught his breath. She was all he could ever desire in a wife, and he loved her so! ‘We are happy to have you here while the search continues, are we not, Father? And if there is anything we may do to help you, we should wish to be of service.’

  ‘Your kindness overwhelms me,’ Harry said and took her hand. He held it briefly, but made no attempt to kiss it, as he would have had they met under other circumstances. The gallantry and experience of a handsome courtier had fled before the tide of grief that possessed him, and he could be no more than the man he was at heart. ‘I fear it is an impossible task, but I have asked that any news should come to me here for the next few weeks, and I shall avail myself of your kind offer, made-moiselle.’

  ‘You must refresh yourself and rest after your journey,’ the Comte said, nodding his approval. He had not been certain that the young man they had met at the English court would do for his precious daughter, but now he saw that the polished manners of a popular courtier hid an honest heart, and one that grieved sincerely. It would be interesting to see what developed between the two over the next weeks, for the Comte would not influence his daughter one way or the other. Claire was free to decide for herself. ‘I shall also send out messengers for I may know more of the tides than you, Sir Harry. Between us, we should be able to find news of your sister if there is any to find…’

  ‘I pray that one of us is successful,’ Harry said. ‘Anne is my younger sister and I feel responsible for what happened to her.’

  Claire rested her hand on his arm. ‘The sea is a cruel mistress, sir. You must grieve for your sister, but the blame does not lie with you.’

  She opened her eyes, whimpering as the light hurt them. Her body felt so sore and painful, as if she had been punched and kicked, and her head ached. She put up a hand to touch her face and then her hair. It was matted, tangled and stiff, as if it had not been washed for a long time. She did not like the feel of it that way and shuddered, because something was terribly wrong, though for the moment she had no idea what it was. She tried to sit up, but fell back as the dizziness overcame her. She was too weak and she cried out for help.

  ‘So, you are awake at last,’ a man’s voice said and someone came to the bed. The sun had darkened his skin and his eyes were black like little jet beads. However, there was something reassuring about him. ‘Do not fear me, little one. You have been ill for a long time and I have tended you. Soon you will be better, but for the moment you must rest. A serving woman will bring you some nourishing soup. You must try to eat it because it will help build your strength.’

  ‘May I have some water?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  The man went to a small walnut chest-on-stand at the far side of the room, filled a cup with water from a pewter ewer and brought it back to her. He supported her as she took a few sips, but the effort exhausted her and she fell back against the pillows once more.

  ‘As I said, you must rest. Your strength will come back soon.’

  ‘Who are you?’ the woman asked. ‘And where am I?’

  ‘My name is Ali. I am a physician and this is the Chateau de Montifiori. We are both guests of Lord de Montfort.’

  The woman frowned. She closed her eyes for a moment, and her hands worked restlessly on the covers, then she opened her eyes and looked at him once more.

  ‘I do not know you. I do not know Lord de Montfort…’ A little wail of despair issued from her lips. ‘I do not know who I am or where I came from.’

  ‘You were on a ship bound for France from England and the ship sank in a storm,’ Ali told her. ‘I do not know your name, little one—but it will come back to you in time.’

  ‘Will it?’ The woman’s eyes were fearful as she looked at him. ‘If the ship sank, how did I come here?’

  ‘Lord de Montfort pulled you from the water. He saved your life and he brought you here. He placed you in my care and I have used my arts to make you well. When you are better, you will be returned to your family.’

  ‘Were my family on the ship? Were they saved too?’

  ‘You were the only one found. Some ropes had secured you to the ship’s mast and it was for this reason that you survived. It was Allah’s will.’

  ‘Allah…’ The woman wrinkled her brow as she tried to understand what he was saying. ‘Is Allah not the god of the infidel Saracens?’

  ‘You must be a Christian, for only a Christian would speak thus of Allah,’ Ali told her and smiled, clearly amused. ‘We are followers of the beloved prophet Mohamed, and our faith is shared by many peoples of the east. Christians follow the prophet Jesus, but there is only one true god and that is Allah. However, I am a physician and I do not judge others by their beliefs.’

  She looked at him. ‘I do not understand any of this,’ she said and yawned because she felt so weary. ‘I know that I have been taught to believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God…’

  ‘I shall not attempt to convert you,’ Ali told her. ‘Religion has caused too many wars and too many deaths. I believe as I believe, but my life is dedicated to saving life. You shall keep your faith and I mine. We shall not quarrel because of it.’

  ‘Please do not be angry with me. I did not mean to call you a Saracen infidel.’ She looked distressed. ‘You are kind…’

  Ali smiled once more. ‘I am not offended, little one. I am an Arab and have been used to insults far worse than any you could think of, mistress. However, there are others within this house that might find such words offensive. It would be best if you kept your thoughts on these matters to yourself while you stay here.’

  ‘I think you are a very wise man,’ she said. ‘Please, may I sleep now?’

  ‘Sleep for as long as you wish, but I shall have a serving woman bring you some soup as soon as you wake again, for you need food.’

  ‘Thank you…and thank you for saving my life.’

  ‘It was Lord Montfort who saved you from the sea,’ Ali said. He watched as the woman slept. She was through the worst of her ordeal, but now she must learn to live again. Her mind had blocked out the terror of being taken by the sea, and with it had gone her identity, but he felt certain it would return once she had fully recovered. However, should it not, she would be alone in the world. Perhaps it was part of Allah’s plan that she had forgotten her past.

  ‘As Allah wills,’ he said piously and went from the chamber, to pass on the good news to Stefan de Mont-fort. He had haunted her chamber for da
ys, though he had pretended to a casual interest in her recovery. Ali smiled as he wondered what the future might bring. He hoped that the man he loved as a brother might find peace at last.

  ‘Swallow a little more if you can,’ the serving woman said. ‘It will make you strong, lady, and you need to recover your strength.’

  The woman looked at the serving girl. ‘How long have you lived in this house, Sulina? Why are you here, for I do not think you born to this land? If we are in France?’ Her eyes became dark with distress. ‘I do not even know where I am…but the word France comes to mind.’

  ‘You are in Normandy, at the home of the Lord de Montfort,’ Sulina said. ‘I am here because my uncle sold me into slavery after my parents died of a fever. I was but thirteen years of age and my first master used me ill, but then Stefan de Montfort bought me. He set me free, but when he gave up the wars and came here to live I chose to come with him. He allows me to serve him and I am content to be his servant. Here I am treated with kindness and respect. In my homeland I should be shunned and cast out by my family; they might stone me to death, for I am unclean in their eyes.’

  ‘That is sad for you, but Lord de Montfort seems kind and generous, though I have never seen him.’

  ‘He can be and often is,’ Sulina agreed. ‘But when he is angry he is fearful. I should not wish to be his enemy.’ She hesitated, then, ‘Stefan de Montfort is not an easy man to understand.’

  ‘And yet you love him, do you not?’

  ‘I admire him…I would love him if he looked at me in that way but he does not.’ Sulina was startled as the patient put back the covers and swung her legs over the bed. ‘You should not try to get up yet, my lady. Ali said you must rest for some days.’

  ‘I feel restless,’ the woman replied. ‘I need to walk, to wash myself and my hair.’

  ‘It is my job to bathe you and to wash your hair once you feel better,’ Sulina told her. ‘I shall wash your hair and your body, my lady, but once you are well you may use the bathing pool.’

  ‘What is a bathing pool? I have not heard of such a thing. I believe I have bathed in a wooden tub…’ She wrinkled her brow as she tried to remember, but failed. Sometimes she saw flashes, pictures in her mind, but they were all jumbled up and she could not understand what they meant.

  ‘In my country we often use a bathing pool,’ Sulina told her. ‘My lord has adopted some of our customs. at least those he approves of, and he approves of being clean.’

  ‘I am not clean. I can smell the stink on myself.’

  ‘I shall help you, my lady, but you are not well enough to walk or to use the bathing pool yet.’

  ‘No…’ She sighed and fell back on the bed. ‘I would be happy for you to bathe me, Sulina. I am too weak to do it yet.’

  ‘Lie still, then, lady, and let me tend you. I think your hair will be pretty once it is clean.’

  She opened her eyes as she sensed someone near her. At first she thought it must be Sulina, but the subtle perfume she smelled did not belong to the serving woman. She had fallen asleep after eating the food Sulina brought her, for she was still weak. It was night now and the only light was a small candle, which gave off a dim light. A shadow moved towards her and she saw that it was a man…a stranger! She shrank back as he approached the bed, her instinct to be afraid. Who was he and why had he come to her in the dead of night?

  ‘Who are you?’ She swallowed hard, her heart racing wildly.

  The shadowy figure paused, and then moved forwards slowly so that the light fell across his face. ‘I am Stefan de Montfort,’ he said in a deep, gentle voice she felt was familiar to her. Surely she had heard it before? Yet she did not know him. ‘I was out hunting when you came to your senses. We need fresh meat and it was a long day. I have but this minute returned. Forgive me that I did not come to you before, lady.’

  She pushed herself up against the pillows, holding the covers to her naked breasts. Stefan de Montfort was a large man, powerful and impressive, a little frightening. He was not smiling as he looked at her. She wondered if he was angry with her, but did not know in what way she might have offended him.

  ‘I have been well cared for,’ she whispered. ‘I have been told that you saved my life, sir.’

  ‘I pulled you from the sea, but it is Ali who hath made you well again.’ His expression was almost stern as he gazed down at her, her hair freshly washed and spreading over the pillows in soft waves of corn-coloured silk. She was, as he had suspected, very beautiful now that she was awake. ‘Ali tells me that you do not know your name or from whence you came?’

  ‘I can remember nothing…at least, I know things, but I do not know who I am, where I came from or where I was going.’

  ‘That is unfortunate—I had hoped to return you to your family as soon as you were well enough to travel.’ He looked thoughtful, almost stern. ‘Well, it cannot be helped. I shall make inquiries about a vessel that sank and see if your family is trying to trace you.’

  ‘Supposing I have no family…supposing they were lost as the ship went down?’

  ‘We shall face that if the time comes. My house is large and you will find a place here for the moment, but you are not a prisoner and may leave whenever you wish.’

  ‘You are kind, sir.’

  ‘Kind?’ A harsh laugh escaped him. ‘I would not describe myself in that manner.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘You should have a name. Since we do not know your true name we must discover one that suits you. What would you call yourself? Maria, Elizabeth, Roseanne…’ His brows rose as her hand moved towards him. ‘You have remembered something?’

  ‘I am not sure, but Roseanne…no, Anne. I like the name Anne. It seems familiar to me, though I cannot remember where I heard it or if it was my name.’

  ‘But you like it, therefore it shall be your name. Anne—yes, it is a good name for you, lady. It suits you. I shall call you Anne.’

  She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to recall something, but the curtain in her mind remained in position. At the mention of the name Anne she had almost seen something…a face…faces and a house, but they had faded in seconds.

  Tears caught at her throat, but she fought them. ‘Ali says that I shall remember one day. Do you think it is true, my lord?’

  She gazed at him as he stood there, a powerful man, feet apart, arms crossed. He was dressed in a nobleman’s gown of some deep blue cloth braided with rich gold, his dark blond hair touching his shoulders, his face tanned by the sun. He was not exactly handsome, but striking, his features carved, almost harsh.

  ‘Ali understands many things that affect the body, but I do not think anyone truly understands the mind,’ Stefan answered honestly. ‘How can we know what makes one man clever and another stupid? You are an intelligent woman. Everything about you tells me that you come from a good home and family, and you speak English better than French. In time we may discover who you are or your memory may return. Until then you must make yourself at home here, Anne.’

  ‘But what shall I do if I never remember?’ Her eyes were wide and dark with fear.

  ‘Then your life begins here,’ Stefan told her. ‘When I was a young man, about your own age, I was forced to leave all that I knew and loved. I found a new life and a new identity as a mercenary. My life was stolen from me, as the sea has robbed you of yours. I shall help you, Anne—and somehow you will find the courage to become yourself once more.’ His harsh features softened slightly and she saw a man who was very different. She wanted to be comforted by his words, but it was so strange not to remember her own name.

  It was frightening to think that she might never know who she was, never remember her mother or father…or if she had sisters and brothers. The future seemed dark, terrifying, and yet she sensed that she was safe here in this house. Sulina and Ali had told her that Stefan de Montfort had sheltered others who needed a home and a protector. He had said that she must think of it as a new beginning…that her life began here. A part of her mind protested, because
she wanted to know who she was and where she came from, and yet another part of her felt reassured by his words.

  ‘Will I be a servant like Sulina?’

  ‘Sulina chooses to serve me,’ he replied. ‘Others also choose to serve, but they are free to leave as they please. You will be a guest. You are a lady, Anne, a woman of gentle birth. Everyone in this house will treat you as such.’ His voice had at that moment a deep, rich timbre, its softness like velvet, reassuring and comforting.

  ‘Thank you. I do not mind working if I can be of help…perhaps sewing. I am not as clever with my needle as Catherine, of course, but—’ Anne broke off and stared at him.

  ‘You have remembered something?’ Stefan’s eyebrows rose, his eyes narrowed and intent.

  Anne hesitated, then shook her head. ‘I remember there was once someone called Catherine and she helped me with my sewing, but it was a long time ago.’

  ‘Was Catherine your mother?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Anne replied and looked bewildered. ‘How can I know that Catherine was a better needlewoman than me, but not know who she is?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Stefan said. He turned as the door opened and someone came in and he saw the physician. ‘She is awake and we have decided that her name is to be Anne—at least for the moment.’

  Ali came forwards so that Anne could see his face. ‘I see you are well, lady. I shall not disturb you—unless you have need of me? You are not in pain?’

  ‘I am quite well, thank you.’

  ‘I shall leave you to rest, lady.’

  ‘And I shall go too, Anne,’ Stefan said. ‘It is not fitting that I should be in your room. I came only to see for myself that you were well. I shall not see you again until you are able to join us in the hall downstairs. Goodnight, lady. Do not fret too much. You are safe here and in time you will remember all you should.’ He turned to Ali. ‘Come, my friend, share a cup of wine with me. I have something I wish to discuss with you.’

  Anne lay back against the pillows as the two men went out together. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember something…anything that would tell her who and what she was. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, but she dashed it away with her hand. She would not weep tears of self-pity. Lord de Montfort had told her she was safe here and for some reason she believed him. She must be content to stay here until she remembered who she was. The name Catherine was at the back of her mind. She tried to put a face to the name and failed, but something told her that Catherine had once been important in her life.