They had buried him there.
Three years, four months, and a handful of days ago.
“Forgive me, mon coeur.” She rested her forehead against the window, blinking hard. “Forgive me.”
Even as the words slipped out, she was not certain whether she was asking forgiveness for the bold step she was about to take.
Or for her dream about the passionate stranger.
~ ~ ~
“Avril, I do not care how skilled you are with a crossbow—and pray do not remind me that you took up arms last month and stood shoulder to shoulder with your retainers to defend your keep against the Flemish. You are a noblewoman, you are but three and twenty, and when you travel such a distance—”
“I do not need half a dozen guards.” Avril stopped trying to elude her brother-in-law, turning to stare up at Duc Gaston de Varennes in the blinding morning sunlight. Servants dodged around them, carrying bundles of food and flasks of water needed for her journey north. As she crossed her arms over her chest, the wind tugged at her honey-colored traveling cloak and velvet skirts. “I am going to a friend’s wedding, not into battle. I still do not understand why you insist on being so cautious.”
“I insist on ensuring your safety.” Gaston glowered down at her, looking very much like the name he had earned in battle: the Black Lion. The fact that he carried his two-year-old son, Soren, on his broad shoulders did little to soften the impression. “The northern roads are a haven for outlaws of every ilk. Six men riding under my banner will make any knave who would harm you think twice. You are still under my care, and I mean to protect you, just as I will protect your daughter while you are gone—nay, I will brook no further argument.”
“I was not going to argue,” Avril said softly, glancing away. With his black hair and brown eyes, Gaston so resembled his elder brother that at times, it hurt to look at him. “I was going to thank you for caring so much.”
All around them, the castle’s outer bailey hummed with activity as servants continued loading the cart that would carry her north, adding gifts for the bride and for friends Avril had not seen in years. Her dearest companion from childhood, Lady Josette de la Valentin, stood chatting with Gaston’s wife, Celine, while groomsmen strapped horses into the traces. Josette had arrived from Brittany yesterday to accompany Avril on the journey.
And after the wedding of their mutual friend, Avril would accompany Josette on her journey home. To Brittany.
“I still wish you would reconsider your decision,” Gaston said more gently. “As far as I am concerned, Gerard’s castle and holdings are yours for as long as you live. You know that you and Giselle are welcome to stay there. My brother built that chateau for you.”
“Aye, he did. And there are reminders of him in every room. I cannot keep living in the past, Gaston. I cannot stay there anymore.” She met his gaze again. “I thought you would be happy, beau-frère. I have finally admitted that you are right. My recent experience with the Flemish proved that what you have been saying is true—the chateau is too close to the border, too tempting a prize without a man to protect it. And your keep here is too distant to send help quickly enough.”
“I never meant that you should leave and return to your dower lands in Brittany.” Gaston set his restless son down. The little boy scampered over to a nearby grove of apricot trees, where Giselle was playing with a litter of black-and-white kittens. “Celine and I are happy to take care of you and Giselle.”
“And I am grateful to you for being so good to us.” She sighed, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair back behind her ear. “But Gerard’s chateau and lands belong to you by right of inheritance, Gaston, and it is time I gave them back—”
“You could stay here.”
“Nay, I could not.” She nodded toward the spire just visible beyond the castle walls, struggling to keep her voice steady. “The memories here are just as strong.”
She started to turn away, but he caught her arm. “Why is it so impossible for you to let anyone take care of you?”
Avril was spared having to reply as Josette and Celine joined them.
“It looks as if all is ready for us to depart.” Josette’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she wrestled the wind for control of her hooded traveling cloak, which was made of lovely—but somewhat impractical—violet brocade and white silk. “Though I fear this weather may prove more troublesome than any forest bandits we might encounter.” Giving up her battle, she let the wind blow her unruly curls into a tangled sable-brown mass.
Avril smiled. She and Josette shared a spirit of adventure that had made them best friends since birth, even though petite Josette tended to be sweet and amiable while she herself was more outspoken and headstrong.
“Have you explained to Giselle how long you’ll be away?” Celine’s cheeks almost matched her red tresses in the chilly morning breeze. Gaston slipped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and brushed a kiss through her burnished hair.
“I have tried.” Avril glanced to where the children were playing. “But I am not sure she understands what ten days means. So I have made ten raisin sweetcakes for her, and said to eat one each day, and when the last one is gone, Maman will be home.”
“What a lovely idea.”
“Thank you, Celine. I hope it will help. She always loves our visits here, and I think she believes this is simply another holiday. I considered taking her with me, but...”
“You made the right decision, Avril. She’ll be safe here, and she and Soren always have such fun. We’ll take good care of her.”
“I know.” Avril smiled at her belle-soeur. “She loves you both very much. But even with those she loves, she can be rather willful at times.”
“I cannot imagine where she inherited that trait,” Gaston commented dryly. After giving his wife a last hug, he released her. “If you ladies will excuse me, I would have a word with the guards before this merry caravan departs.”
As he walked over to his men, Celine linked one arm through Avril’s and the other through Josette’s. “And I would like to sit down, if it’s all right with the two of you. I didn’t want to worry Gaston—because he’ll spend the rest of the day hovering over me like a very large butterfly—but I’m feeling a little light-headed this morning.”
“Oh, Celine, I am sorry. I should have thought of that when we decided to leave at first light.” Avril steered her belle-soeur toward the grove of apricot trees, still feeling a pang of envy over the joyous news Celine had shared last night: She was expecting her second child. “How are you faring?”
They settled on the grass a few paces from the children. “Much better, really, than when I was carrying Soren. I feel wonderful most of the time.” Celine’s expression was blissfully happy as she watched her son chasing his cousin through the trees. “A little woozy in the mornings, but that just gives me an excuse to stay in bed. I lie there looking at the new cradle Gaston is making, and I feel so blessed...”
She stopped short and met Avril’s gaze. “Oh, Avril, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Nay, it is all right.” Avril blinked away the burning in her eyes, surprised by the intensity of the envy she felt. “It is only that, sometimes, I wish...” She looked up at Giselle, at the small miracle she and Gerard had created, so full of love and laughter and mischief.
“You wish that Giselle were not growing up an only child, as you did,” Josette finished quietly.
Avril nodded, dropping her gaze. The wind blowing through the leaves overhead made the only sound for a moment.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Celine whispered. “You’re still young.” She leaned closer and took Avril’s hand. “You once told me that if I found love, I should catch it close and hold it tight.” She looked across the bailey at her husband, her expression tender. “And it was very good advice.”
“I remember.” Avril paused, squeezing Celine’s hand. “But I-I do not think anyone could replace Gerard in my heart. For a long time, I thought
I would be happy if I simply stayed in that chateau, if I kept everything as it was. That I... could keep him with me somehow. I have always believed that there is one special man for every woman... and God granted me mine. For a brief, perfect time, I knew a love some never know. I would not be so selfish and greedy as to expect Him to send me another love like that in my lifetime.”
“I am the only maiden here,” Josette commented, “so I cannot claim to be an expert, but I do not think God is so miserly with love.”
Avril reached out her free hand to Josette, smiling at her sweet nature. “You are both so kind to be concerned about me. I am fortunate indeed to have friends like you. Truly, I am happy. I have all of you, and Giselle, and when we return to Brittany, I will be reunited with my cousins and kinsmen. What more could any woman ask? What more love could I need? I...”
A sudden, unbidden image of her dream last night flitted through her mind.
She had spoken to no one of the heated images that had disturbed her sleep of late, not even Celine or Josette.
“I... think it is time for us to go,” she finished awkwardly. “Look how high the sun has gotten.”
Gaston came striding across the bailey to join them, apparently finished giving instructions to his men. Both children ran to meet him, Giselle racing ahead of little Soren. Gaston scooped her up with both hands and swung her high over his head, making her squeal with delight. “And who is your favorite uncle today, ma petite?” He tucked her close.
She locked her chubby arms around his neck. “Uncle Gaston!”
“Soren up now!” her black-haired cousin demanded, arms extended over his head, his face awash in two-year-old indignation at the attention his cousin was receiving.
“I keep hoping he’ll grow out of this.” Celine sighed. “He’s become an absolute little tyrant.”
“I cannot imagine where he inherited that trait.” Avril grinned. Rising, she decided to rescue her beau-frère from having to choose between the children.
“Soren up now!” the boy repeated, stamping his tiny foot.
Avril took her daughter as Gaston bent to pick up his son.
Giggling, Giselle played with a lock of Avril’s hair. “Maman bring me a pretty spinny?”
“Aye, ma petite papillon. My little butterfly.” Avril hugged her daughter fiercely. “Oh, how I will miss you.”
“A pretty spinny?” Josette asked with a puzzled look.
Avril smiled. “That is her word for a spinning top.” She rubbed her nose against her daughter’s. “Aye, Maman will bring you a pretty spinny, Giselle. Do you remember where Maman is going?”
“Lady friend!”
“Aye. I am going to visit a lady friend, who is getting married in a very large city by the sea. Do you remember?”
Giselle nodded vigorously.
“And in ten days—after you have eaten the last of your raisin sweetcakes—I will be back. And then we will go to our new home in Brittany.”
“Where Maman was a little girl.”
“That is right. Where Maman was a little girl. But until I return, can you make a promise for me? Can you promise to be very, very good for Aunt Celine and Uncle Gaston?”
“Promise!” Giselle rained kisses over her cheeks and nose.
They all walked over to the cart, but Avril was unprepared for the pain in her heart as she gave her daughter one last kiss, cuddled her just a few seconds longer... and handed her to Celine.
“I love you, ma petite papillon. I will be back soon.”
“Soon!” The little girl repeated enthusiastically. “I love you, Maman.” She wiggled her fingers in farewell as Gaston helped Avril and Josette up into the cart.
With a slap of the harness, their driver set off. Wheels creaked and hooves clattered as the cart rolled through the castle gate. Avril could not keep herself from looking back, waving to her little girl, while everyone in the bailey called out farewells and good wishes.
Then the cart crossed the drawbridge and followed a curve in the path, and she could not see Giselle anymore.
“And off we go,” Josette whispered.
Avril glanced at her curiously. “You sound uneasy, Josette. Are you worried by the presence of so many guards?”
“Nay, I... mayhap it is because I did not sleep well. Did you...” She paused. “Did you notice that strange mist around the castle last night?”
Avril felt a tingle down the back of her neck. She looked away, her gaze falling on the chapel in the woods, rimmed by morning sunlight. “Aye.”
“You did? No one else seemed to know what I was talking about when I asked this morn. I thought mayhap it was common here in the Artois. That mist came right through the shutters of my window and...” She cleared her throat. “Awakened me. I could not get back to sleep after that.”
“I am sure it was merely a strange trick of the weather.” Avril studied the bright blue sky, then turned to face her friend. “There is naught to be uneasy about, Josette. We will be in no danger. It is not as if we are going to Barcelona or Marseilles or some other uncivilized place.” She smiled reassuringly. “We are going to Antwerp.”
Chapter 3
“Morvan,” Avril said lightly, summoning the leader of the six guardsmen who had accompanied her and Josette into Antwerp, “I believe it may be time to make another delivery to our rooms at Baron Ponthieu’s chateau.”
“Aye, milady.” The brawny man-at-arms came forward to take the miniature Noah’s ark from her, trying not to drop any of the dolls, ribbons, pastel bead necklaces, or the fluffy toy lamb he already carried. With a long-suffering sigh, he handed this latest purchase to one of his men.
Avril swallowed a smile, afraid that she and Josette might dissolve into a fit of giggles at the men’s expressions. The six battle-hardened guards Gaston had assigned to protect them during their journey north had been pressed into service of a different sort today.
The guards had done such excellent work escorting them to Antwerp safely and swiftly, they had arrived at their destination earlier than most of the other wedding guests. And when Josette heard that the city was playing host to a trade fair, she had coaxed Avril into spending a day strolling among the market stalls and enjoying the sights.
As they walked along streets crowded with merchants, the late-afternoon air buzzed with voices speaking French and Italian, Arabic and Russian, Antwerp’s native Flemish, and a half-dozen languages Avril could not even name. Castle stewards bargained with traders over the price of cook pots or lemons or Persian silks. Servants cursed at the dogs that ran loose in the streets. Richly dressed guild members and sea captains discussed the dancing bears, wrestling matches, fortune-tellers, or pickpockets they had just seen.
Josette almost had to shout to be heard over the din. “You are having a good time,” she commented happily, linking her arm through Avril’s.
“Oh, aye. Aye, indeed I am.” Avril returned her smile in full measure. She could not remember the last time she had spent a day like this, perusing displays of hats and scented soaps, nibbling mince pies purchased from strolling vendors, dabbing on exotic perfumes. They had even indulged in having their hair curled with hot irons and treated with a blend of rare frankincense and ginger. Every time she inhaled, the scent made her smile.
Glancing up at the rose-streaked sky, she found herself regretting that the sun would set in another hour or so.
When they stopped at yet another booth selling shoes, she heard poor Morvan sigh behind her and realized he did not share her sentiments. Avril glanced over her shoulder with a grin. She could not resist teasing the captain of the guards, for he always seemed to be in one of two moods: gloomy or dour. “I believe I have a new assignment for you, Morvan.”
“Aye, milady?” he asked warily, mustache twitching as he awaited whatever new indignity might be heaped upon his men’s broad shoulders. “We are at your command.”
“Well, then, after you return those packages to Baron Ponthieu’s chateau... mayhap you and your men sho
uld take the rest of the evening to enjoy the fair. You have done us loyal service this day, and you deserve a reward.”
She succeeded in bringing a smile to his craggy face. “The men would be most grateful, milady.”
Avril opened the velvet purse fastened to her belt and started counting out silver coins. “Then each of you take ten livres and have a most pleasant evening.”
“You are more than generous, Lady Avril.”
Morvan passed the coins to his men, instructing one to stay behind with her and Josette until they were ready to return to the chateau.
As the five guards departed, a passing merchant caught Avril’s eye.
“Oh, Josette, look at that!” She pointed out a man tooting on a pipe and carrying a T-shaped pole festooned with small wooden toys. “I wonder if he has any spinning tops. I promised Giselle I would bring her one.”
“Run and ask him, Avril.”
“You would not mind if I abandoned you for a moment?”
Josette nodded toward the bright rows of silk slippers in the booth. “There is enough here to keep me happily occupied for, oh, at least an hour or two,” she teased. “Go.”
“Shall I accompany you, milady?” the guard asked.
“Nay, there is no need. Stay here with Lady Josette until I return.” Trying to see where the toymaker had gone, she hurried into the throng.
~ ~ ~
“Kel, if you cannot keep your mind on the task at hand,” Hauk said as he pulled his friend out of the path of an onrushing horse, “at least try not to get yourself killed.”
“Ja, I will,” Keldan replied absently, speaking around a mouthful of pickled pheasant eggs, which was his eleventh or twelfth meal of the day. Hauk had lost count.
Keldan struggled to balance three bulging sacks of souvenirs as they made their way through Antwerp’s bustling streets, his head swiveling left and right, dark eyes wide as he took it all in—every foreign sight and taste and scent and sound. He stopped to stare at a passing group of men dressed in flowing black robes and odd, squarish hats. “What sort of people are those?”
His Captive Bride Page 2
