by Aston, Alexa
His eyes narrowed into slits as he studied her. “I always knew you’d be trouble. I told the king that it was too much for me to take on your mother and two headstrong girls. Edward assured me you were already betrothed and would soon be off my hands. I would merely have to find a husband for your sister. The farther away, the better.”
Her stepfather rose to his feet, his face bright red. “You have no rights, girl. None.”
“My father would never have treated me in such a despicable manner.”
“Your father is dead. By law, I’m now your father. That man did you no favors. He and your mother. Letting you run wild in boy’s clothing. Spending all your time with horses.” Holger glared at her. “You better get used to a man telling you what to do. In and out of bed. Women are here to serve men. Nothing more.”
He slammed a fist onto the table. “So be off with you. But first, find Lord Ingram. I’ve decided to agree to his terms without further argument, the better to be rid of you. This time tomorrow, you’ll be wedded. Then bedded. And the day after, I’ll never have to be bothered by you again.”
Holger gave her a sinister smile. “Once Ingram has broken your maidenhead, we’ll see how you behave.”
Elysande closed the distance between them. They were almost of the same height. She moved within inches of his face and proclaimed, “I will never—never—marry Lord Ingram. Or any man of your choice! I plan to marry Michael Devereux and never set foot in Hopeston again.”
His eyes bulged wide as his nostrils flared in anger. “You’ll do as I say, you ungrateful cur. I am the man here. I am in charge. And I demand that—”
Holger stopped mid-sentence. His brows knit in confusion. His eyes clouded over. Then an agonizing look crossed his face, which had deepened to almost purple in color. He clawed at his chest. His eyes grew wide. “Can’t . . . breathe,” he wheezed. He fell to the ground and gasped.
Then fell silent.
Elysande dropped to her knees. Lord Holger lay still. She placed a hand under his nose. No breath left it. She rose unsteadily.
She had killed her stepfather.
Elysande stumbled to her feet and made her way to the great hall. It seemed like a madhouse now. Even more wedding guests had arrived. She couldn’t hear herself think through the din. She brushed through the groups of people, trying to locate her mother. She spied Geoffrey and Merryn standing with a handsome man unfamiliar to her. Her leaden feet moved her in their direction.
Merryn reached out to her and captured her hands. “What ails you, Elysande? Your hands are colder than a winter’s day. And you have no color in your cheeks.” Merryn brushed a hand through her niece’s hair. “I know how upset you are about this wedding. Mayhap you should lie down for a bit.”
“He’s dead. It’s all my fault.”
“What?” Geoffrey asked. He placed a hand upon her shoulder. “We know Hendry is gone, Elysande. You had nothing to do with it.”
She shook her head violently, trying to make them understand. “No. No. He’s dead. Lord Holger,” she said dully.
The stranger took a step toward her and clasped her elbows. He led her to a chair. Elysande sat. She felt physically and emotionally drained.
“Raynor, find Lady Mary at once. Bring her here. Say not a word to anyone,” Merryn commanded. “Geoffrey, go see to Lord Holger. I’ll stay with Elysande.”
The two men hurried away to do her bidding.
Merryn drew another chair over and sat next to Elysande, holding her hands. “Raynor will find your mother. He’s a cousin to your mother and uncle. And he’s like a brother to Geoffrey. You can count on his discretion.”
The two women sat in silence. Elysande was grateful, for no words could have formed on her lips even if she’d tried.
Geoffrey returned first, shaking his head, his mouth grim. Raynor followed behind him, Lady Mary in tow.
At the sight of her mother, Elysande felt the tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She leapt to her feet.
“I killed him, Mother. I didn’t mean to. We argued about the new betrothal. I told him I would never marry Lord Ingram. He shouted at me. Told me he was the man and I must do as he said.” She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “His face turned so dark and mottled. Then . . . he collapsed.”
Her mother embraced her. “It’s not your fault, Elysande. You can’t blame yourself. Holger ate too much and drank even more. His death could have occurred at any time.”
“No. I caused it. We argued. If I hadn’t provoked him, he wouldn’t have become so upset. I’m to blame.” She looked wildly about the room filled with people. “Will God forgive me? Can He forgive me for killing a man?” She thought a moment. “Should I enter a convent? Give my life to God to make up for so grievous a sin?”
“A convent?”
Elysande looked over her mother’s shoulder. She saw Lord Ingram had joined their circle. He was the last person she wished to see.
“What’s this about a convent? No wife of mine will enter a convent.”
Lady Mary faced the nobleman and took charge of the situation. “No one is entering a convent. And no one—least of all you, Lord Ingram—is going to marry my daughter. My husband is dead. I have no intention of signing a betrothal contract with you. Today or any other day.”
Ingram’s jaw fell open. It took him a moment to recover. “How dare you, woman! I shall write the king at once. He will order you to give me your daughter in marriage.”
Elysande’s anger exploded. She wanted to protect her mother from this man. “And how dare you, my lord? My mother has just learned she is widowed for the second time. You’ve yet to offer her any comfort but only wish to force your own desires upon my family. Do you think I or any other woman would want to marry you? You don’t even seem concerned about the death of your only son, which happened but a few days ago.”
Lord Ingram looked taken aback at her words. He sputtered, “But . . . but I had my men bury his body before we continued on to Hopeston. What more could I do?”
“You could grieve for the loss of your child instead of cursing his existence as you did earlier. You could return his body to be buried at the only home he knew. You can offer your condolences to my mother and leave Hopeston immediately. Your presence is no longer required here.”
The earl glared at Elysande. “I tell you, my lady, you’ll be sorry for your bold words. You will bend to my will when I take you to wife. I know the king—”
“As do I and my wife,” Geoffrey interrupted. “We’re close friends with King Edward and Queen Philippa. Our daughter fosters in their royal household. I guarantee that they’ll listen to our counsel regarding this situation a thousandfold over your words.” His eyes narrowed. “Make sure you never come near Hopeston and my sister and nieces ever again or you’ll live to regret it.”
Lord Ingram turned beet red, fuming in rage. Without a word, he turned and fled the great hall.
Chapter Nine
Elysande’s mind wandered as the priest droned on in Latin. The many guests who had assembled at Hopeston now attended Lord Holger’s funeral instead of feasting and dancing at her wedding.
She couldn’t shake the feelings of guilt that weighed her down. They pushed at her as if she’d been trapped under a huge boulder that crushed the life from her. No matter how others tried to reassure her, Elysande knew responsibility for her stepfather’s death rested at her doorstep. She thought again that she should offer up her life to God in service. By entering a nunnery, she could dedicate her remaining time on earth to all things holy. A quiet life of prayer and meditation. One that would, hopefully, win her forgiveness for her sins.
But that would be a world without Michael.
Elysande couldn’t help but think about him. She hadn’t spoken to him since her stepfather’s death two days ago. Though she begged God for forgiveness while in constant prayer, her thoughts would turn to the dark, handsome knight. She could feel his strong arms about her. His mouth covering hers. Her hands
roaming the hard, muscled chest.
God must not think her very contrite for her sins if she couldn’t concentrate without her thoughts turning to Michael’s image over and over. Giving Michael up might be the exact penance God required from her.
Was she strong enough to follow through?
She looked down at her hands. One rested in her mother’s, their fingers locked together. Avelyn held Elysande’s other hand in comfort. What must her mother be feeling now? She had lost not one, but two husbands. Elysande knew both marriages had been arranged, but at least her parents had been fond of one another, if not in love. As far as her mother’s relationship with Lord Holger? It seemed a matter of convenience. The marriage had given Lady Mary and her two daughters a roof over their heads after a male relative inherited her father’s title and demanded they vacate the estate. Elysande had rarely seen her mother and stepfather engaged in conversation together. She hoped their lack of personal involvement might make this time easier on her mother.
The mass ended. Both she and Avelyn nodded graciously to those who conveyed their sympathy. Her mother made a few comments to the gathered mourners, thanking them for their kind words in such a time of loss. Elysande wondered if a funeral mass would be held for poor Hendry. She found she’d thought of him more in the past few days than she had in the four years since their betrothal. It pained her that his father had been so brusque and unfeeling regarding his only child’s death.
Michael stepped forward briefly, along with several knights that had come from Kinwick. He offered few words, but his eyes said all. Elysande knew he now believed her free to pursue. But she thought otherwise. She needed to atone for her sins.
Even though she wished that she could spend the rest of her life with him.
The last of those in attendance filed from the chapel. Only she, Avelyn, and her mother remained. Mary gathered them to her. Elysande relished the comfort of her mother’s arms about her.
“I love you, my darling girls. I’m grateful I have you by my side in such a difficult time.”
“What will happen to us, Mother,” asked Avelyn, “now that Lord Holger is gone? And Lord Ingram.” Her sister shuddered. “I’ll never like that man. Never.”
“Don’t trouble yourself over him, lamb,” Mary said. “Even if he writes to the king, I believe your uncle, Geoffrey, will take care of things. As it is, both Geoffrey and I have sent missives to King Edward to inform him of the situation. He is on summer progress, so it might be a few weeks before they catch up to him and we receive a reply.”
She hugged them tightly. “So for now, we won’t worry. I suggest we return to the great hall. A lovely meal awaits us. I saw no need for such a large amount of food to go to waste. Though we aren’t celebrating Elysande’s wedding, at least we can enjoy each other’s company and good food and wines.”
They returned to the keep. Elysande ate a few bites each time her mother looked in her direction, but she left the rest of her food untouched on the trenchers. Nothing seemed appetizing. She decided to slip away and contemplate her future.
It seemed natural to turn toward the stables, her haven in times of trouble. She visited with Morningstar and Happy. The foal grew sturdier with each passing day. She returned to the keep and avoided the great hall and its many guests. Instead, she decided to go up to her bedchamber and lie down. Mayhap the solitude would help her confused heart.
She moved down the empty stone corridor. As she passed the room given to her uncle and aunt, she heard their voices. Elysande paused as she overheard her name in conversation. The door was ajar. Her curiosity got the better of her.
“Elysande needs a change of scenery, Geoffrey. She’s been traumatized by Holger’s death. I want her to come back with us to Kinwick.”
“I’m not sure if that’s wise, my love. You know of the deep feelings between her and Michael. Elysande seems at a crossroads. I don’t know if being in close proximity to Michael is the best thing for her now.”
“She is a wounded bird. And you know how I take those in.”
Geoffrey chuckled. “Indeed, I do.”
“Think of it. All she has been through. She lost her beloved father. She moved away from everything she knew to come to Hopeston. She had the trauma of a forced betrothal, only to learn of her fiancé’s death a day before their wedding. Then she almost had to marry that horrid Lord Ingram—and she witnessed the abrupt death of her stepfather.” Merryn paused. “Not to mention falling hopelessly in love in the midst of all that turmoil. Elysande needs time to heal, Geoffrey. Kinwick is the place for that to occur. Not some nunnery that would choke all the joy from her.”
Her aunt’s words made sense. She could escape the shadows of death that seemed to linger at Hopeston. Visit her cousins at their home. Get a new perspective while she figured out the dilemma she faced.
Elysande tapped at the door and nudged it open. The sympathetic look Merryn gave her made Elysande rush to her aunt. She fell into her arms and clung to her. Kissing Merryn’s cheek, she turned and hugged her uncle, Geoffrey.
She saw the triumphant look in Merryn’s eyes as she turned to her husband. “I’ll write the king and let him know that Elysande is under your protection, my lord. I’m sure he’ll approve of you stepping in.”
“Thank you both,” Elysande told them. “I don’t know what to say. You’re showing me great kindness in my time of trouble.”
“This is only temporary,” Geoffrey warned. “The king may have someone in mind for you to marry. The same could hold true for your mother and Avelyn, too.”
But for now I’ll be safe.
And if she saw more of Michael? That might help her, as well.
Elysande looked to her uncle. “May I bring my horses?”
Geoffrey burst out into laughter. “You really do have de Montfort blood in you.”
*
Michael downed the remainder of his ale. Food held no interest for him. He’d spent two days going crazy with worry over Elysande. Raynor had found him and shared the news of Lord Holger’s death and Lady Mary’s refusal to complete any wedding contracts, despite Lord Ingram’s insistence.
But Elysande had remained closeted in her bedchamber until today’s funeral mass.
He wished he could have time alone with her. He’d heard talk of how Holger had dropped dead as they argued and that Elysande blamed herself. Michael had even cornered Lady Avelyn and pulled from her that Elysande’s guilt had her talking of retreating to a nunnery to atone for her role in her stepfather’s death.
If he didn’t feel so desperate, he might have laughed. No one with such zest for life—much less incredible beauty—should be locked away from the world and forced to her knees multiple times a day in hours of prayer and penance.
Yet in a way, Michael understood how Elysande felt. It had been much the same with him. As a boy, guilt blanketed him every time his mother suffered another beating at the hands of his father. Though it usually occurred behind locked doors, Michael believed he should be able to prevent his father from acting in such a manner.
More guilt had rushed through him when he fled Sandbourne and cut his father from his life, knowing that he abandoned his mother. The only comfort he drew came from picturing her in the safe haven of a nunnery, far from her husband’s fists and feet.
Michael thought of her often, wondering which convent she’d been taken to. He prayed to Christ Almighty at mass each morning that he would be able to locate her and bring her home to spend her final years at Sandbourne once he became the earl. He would make up for the lost years they’d spent apart.
Time would heal Elysande’s emotional wounds. He must give her that gift before he declared his undying love and devotion to her and ask Lady Mary for her hand in marriage. So he’d avoided searching for Elysande—for now.
The time drew near for their departure, though. He thought they might leave for Kinwick as soon as tomorrow. Mayhap he should seek her out and at least have a private goodbye between them.
&
nbsp; “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
Michael’s head popped up as a hard fist punched him playfully on his shoulder.
Raynor Le Roux shook his head. “’Tis a woman who has you in misery, my friend. Believe me, I know of such things.” He summoned a serving wench over and had her refill their cups.
Michael greedily downed the cool liquid. “Did Lady Beatrice cause you such misery?” Michael had met Raynor’s wife when he accompanied the de Montforts on a visit to Ashcroft shortly after the first Le Roux child’s birth. “She seemed like an angel. I can’t imagine Lady Beatrice causing you any suffering or unhappiness.”
His old friend’s face took on a wistful look that surprised Michael. “Everything is different now that I have found my Beatrice. I won’t tell you of the many obstacles that kept us apart and put me in such a low state. Thank the Heavens we faced them together.” Raynor paused. “Marrying Beatrice was the best thing I have ever done, for our love grows stronger with each passing day. I only wish she could have accompanied me to Hopeston.” Raynor finished the ale and set his cup down.
“There you are, Michael.” Geoffrey de Montfort came to stand next to their table. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning after we break our fast. Be sure the men are ready to travel.”
“Aye, my lord. I’ll see to it now.”
Geoffrey paused. “I should also tell you that my niece, Elysande, will accompany us back to Kinwick. Lady Merryn feels a change of scenery might do the girl some good after all that has passed.”
His words shocked Michael to the core.
Elysande. At Kinwick.
Suddenly, Michael wanted to leap on the table and dance with joy. Instead, he kept his face blank as he had so many times when he’d been teased by others.
“Will Lady Elysande ride one of our extra mounts or take a horse from the Hopeston stables?”
Geoffrey frowned. “She asked if she could bring her horses with her. The more I think about it, I believe they should remain behind.”
