Music For My Soul

by Lauren Linwood

  Luke shuddered. “How you lifted the damn thing is beyond me.”

  “I know,” Garrett said softly.

  Luke slipped back into sleep as quickly as he’d awakened. Those were the last words he’d spoken. Garrett held his hand for an hour before he’d felt the warmth give way. He was still holding it when the morning rays cast their first light upon a new day. The first he’d faced without Luke. Unluckily for him, he never caught the fever. No hovering between life and death for Garrett. But he’d never been the same. With Luke’s passing, something of him, too, had died. With Lynnette’s abandoning him for another man, it seemed what little feeling he’d had left had gone, as well. Only at rare times did he feel anything, and that was when Lissa brought a smile to his lips.

  Mayhap that was what was different about Madeleine. She had caused him to feel again. How, he did not know, but in some inexplicable way, she made him want to live again. She had a spark of vitality about her, capturing his imagination as Luke had all those years ago. When she spoke, he had an interest in whatever came from her mouth. Most of it had been absolute nonsense, but it was entertaining, all the same. She had a wit about her. For a woman, she thought fast on her feet. He relished the thought of verbally sparring with her again, which brought a rare smile to his face. He was only five and twenty, and he had many more years left to him. It was time he shrugged off his complacency and enjoyed life.

  He stopped a barrel—chested man. “Who is in charge of your troupe?”

  The man scratched his head. “Farley is, though if the truth be told, his wife Elspeth runs things”.” He chuckled. “Farley included, that she does.”

  “And where might I find this Elspeth and Farley?”

  He was directed to a tent that was much larger than the others. Not for luxury on the part of the owners, though. As he entered, he found he could barely move, so great was the clutter inside it. The tent must house every costume and prop used in their performances, he thought.

  Garrett wove his way around to the voices he heard.

  “York did an adequate job, dearest.”

  “But ‘tis not Madeleine, Elspeth. The girl has something about her. I can’t explain it. The crowds want to see her, hear her, not silly York crooning away.”

  “At one time you were happy to have York, Farley.”

  “Well, ‘tis not enough anymore. You must insist Madeleine continue to perform, Elspeth.”

  Elspeth started to answer her husband but stopped and turned in his direction. “Who’s skulking about there? Come forward,” she commanded.

  Garrett came to stand in front of her.

  “’Tis sorry I am to be so abrupt, my lord,” she apologized nervously. “Ye must be Lord Montayne, come for yer cloak. Madeleine said ye’d be by for it.” She fetched the garment and handed it to him.

  “Where do you go from here?” Garrett asked.

  Farley answered, “Why, we go to Lord Denton’s. Summerville way.”

  Garrett nodded. “Yes, I know the estate. I’m from Stanbury myself.”

  Farley nodded. “Yes, we’ve been that way before, my lord. ‘Tis not far from Summerville at all.”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  Garrett exited Farley’s tent several minutes later. He returned to the tent Madeleine was in and slipped inside.

  As before, she was next to Gwenith, the boy’s head now in her lap. He was fast asleep. She stroked his hair fondly. As Garrett moved toward her, she raised her head. Surprise registered on her features.

  He could tell she’d been crying. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. The front of her tunic was damp and rumpled. He knelt down beside her and lay a hand upon her shoulder.

  “What are you doing here, my lord?” she whispered. “Did you not find Farley’s tent? I left your cloak there.” Even as she said it, she glanced at the cloak draped over his arm.

  “Yes, Madeleine, I’ve gotten it back.” He cupped her chin with his hand and stroked her trembling bottom lip with his thumb. Then he leaned forward and gently kissed her.

  “Au revoir, Madeleine.”

  Rising, he quickly left her.

  Chapter 10

  Madeleine watched Lord Montayne disappear from the enclosed space. His presence had filled the small tent. Now the place seemed empty and forlorn.

  She reached up, grazing her fingertips against her lips in quiet wonder. She could still feel his warm breath, the press of his mouth softly against hers.

  What had possessed him to kiss her?

  Madeleine would never regret that he had. Henri had kissed her on rare occasions and only in public when duty called for it, and always on her brow or cheek. The only time he’d kissed her on her mouth was to seal their vows before the priest on their wedding day. When Madeleine questioned why he did not kiss her at other times, Henri informed her kissing had nothing to do with making an heir and so he was uninterested in it.

  Yet Madeleine longed for the intimacy of kissing a man she loved. She’d soon discovered that Henri would never be that man. She had relegated kissing far into a corner chamber of her mind. She’d stopped daydreaming about it and such foolish ideas as romantic love.

  Until Lord Montayne.

  She admitted to herself that she had often thought about kissing Garrett Montayne these past two months. When she wrapped his cloak about her, she longed to be enveloped in his arms, too. He would hold her firmly, yet tenderly, and then he would kiss her, over and over, until she was breathless.

  She had not thought this fantasy could ever come true, and in truth, it had not. Garrett had barely touched her, his lips brushing hers softly but for a moment. But Madeleine had a glimpse of the magic that might have been if she hadn’t been married to Henri. Maybe real love did exist after all.

  She felt a deep longing inside her, but she knew this ache could never be filled. Even if she imagined herself falling in love with an English lord, nothing could come of it. She was married. So was he, although there seemed to be a different standard among men who had taken their marriage vows and women who kept theirs. Madeleine resolved never to see him again. He had his cloak. That was all he’d come for.

  Or was it?

  Garrett found Ashby still in Hannah’s giggling company. The sun had now set and he was anxious to leave. He caught Ashby’s eye and motioned him over.

  “Are you ready to ride?”

  Ashby raised his brows. “No,” he said frankly. “And I thought you wouldn’t be either. Or was the alluring Madeleine not taken in by your many charms?”

  Garrett stared at him coldly. “She’s not like that, Ash.”

  His friend laughed. “Oh, so now she’s a lady?”

  “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Then what do you mean, Garrett? I rode off to London with you at the drop of a hat. Not that anyone’s counting, but ‘twas the third time we’ve done so in as many months. You promised me a little fun on our way back, and I aim to have it.” He frowned. “You could use a little of that fun yourself, Garrett.”

  “I need to get back to Stanbury. I’ve arrangements to make.”

  Ashby tilted his head. “Arrangements? What are you preparing for?”

  Garrett shrugged. “It seems we’ll be holding a little faire at Stanbury, Ash.”

  Ashby grinned and slapped Garrett on the back. “And when was this decided?”

  “’Tis something I worked out with a Mister Farley, who’s head of the mummers. They were to travel next to Summerville and quarter there for a few weeks.”

  “Yes, we’ve been to the summer solstice celebration there before, Garrett, don’t you remember?”

  “I’ve decided they need to spend their next sojourn at Stanbury instead.” Garrett paused. “Of course, Lord Denton doesn’t know this yet.”

  Ashby hooted with pleasure. “Serves the old bastard right. Imagine, him being passed over for Stanbury. What I wouldn’t give to see the look on his face when he’s informed of the change!”

  “Stop y
our gloating, Ash. He’ll be told soon enough, I’m sure. ‘Tis also costing me plenty from my pocket to see that it occurs.” For a moment he felt like the Garrett of old. He quickly sobered and clamped a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “So I ride back to Stanbury tonight. You may come with me now or follow later. ‘Tis up to you.”

  Ashby glanced behind him to where Hannah stood a distance away, tapping her foot impatiently. “I might need just one night of rest before I continue on, Garrett. Too much travel at one time has never suited me.”

  Garrett shook his head. “You and your women, Ash.”

  Ashby shrugged. “What can I say?

  Madeleine looked up as Elspeth came into the tent. Madeleine felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, so great was her longing to see Garrett again, despite her determination to keep from that very act.

  “How’s the little love?” Elspeth motioned down to Evan, who was curled around Madeleine.

  “Good, for once. If we could keep him asleep at all times, some might mistake him for an angel.”

  Elspeth chuckled and bent to lift Evan. She placed him on a pallet of straw and then reached a hand down to Madeleine. Madeleine winced as her injured knee reminded her of the viciousness of her husband. Hating that she had to depend on others, she leaned heavily on Elspeth to get to her feet. She bit her lip, trying to ignore her knee’s constant throbbing.

  “I’m here ta spell ye,” Elspeth told her. “Ye haven’t had a bite ta eat nor a chance ta rest.” Elspeth waved her hand in front of her. “Don’t push me off, child. Ye know I’m right. Now go and get some food in yer belly. I’ll sit with Gwenith and the tyke.”

  Madeleine nodded and exited the tent. A slight breeze greeted her. She brushed her hair back from her face and moved slowly toward the campfire, wobbly on her stiff legs.

  This time of day had turned out to be her favorite since she’d joined Farley’s group. The day’s performances were done, and the troupe’s spirits were light-hearted.

  There was food to be had, tales to be told, songs to be sung. The after-show celebrations all made Madeleine feel a part of a family, something she’d sorely missed.

  Edgar pushed a plate into her hands. “Go fill it up, Madeleine, and then perhaps ye’ll tell us a story?” he asked hopefully, his bushy white eyebrows raised in expectation. Edgar was old enough to be her grandfather, but he was very flirtatious with her.

  “If I can think of one, Edgar, I shall,” she promised.

  “O’ course ye can, Madeleine. Ye’ll never run out o’ tales,” he cackled.

  Madeleine caught a whiff of mutton and freshly baked bread at the same time, and her mouth watered in response. Soon her plate was loaded and she inhaled the meal, finding she was much hungrier than she’d thought possible.

  The mutton was tender, and she cleared her plate quickly. Edgar took it from her and refilled it despite her protests.

  “I know ye can do justice to it, Madeleine,” he said and handed her a second helping with a wink.

  Madeleine patted his hand in thanks, and Edgar blushed till his bald pate glowed beet red. Those present laughed loudly. Madeleine realized then how much she had come to love her new life performing for the crowds, being with those who were richly blessed with love and laughter in their lives, feeling a part of a gathering. It brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked rapidly several times before they built up and spilled down her cheeks. She quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  “Are ye through now, Madeleine?” Osbert asked, an expectant look on his face. “Edgar says ye’ll tell us a tale when ye’ve had yer fill.”

  Edgar poked Osbert in the ribs. “I said she might tell us a tale, you oaf. Only if she wants, o’ course.”

  The cries rose then, as several begged her to entertain them with a story.

  “Come on, Madeleine, sing us but one song,” said Osbert.

  “Yes, indeed,” added Ruth. “Ye’ve a much better voice than York,” she proclaimed, casting a sideways glance at the troubadour.

  York clutched his heart. “Crushed again,” he said mockingly. “Will no one but God Almighty ever recognize my talents?”

  Several grumbled at York’s antics, but even more tried to persuade her to stay a bit longer. Madeleine felt she couldn’t let them down, and before she knew it, an hour had passed.

  “I must return to Gwenith,” she finally told those gathered around her.

  There were some good-natured grumbles, but all understood why she retired early. As she began her way back to the tent, Royce fell into step with her.

  “You tell a fine tale, Madeleine,” he praised.

  “Thank you, Royce. Your compliment is much appreciated.”

  They walked along in companionable silence. This was the Royce she had come to trust, she thought. She enjoyed being around him. She opened her mouth to tell him so and was shocked when he swung her into his arms and kissed her.

  He held her close to him and surprised her by quickly pushing his tongue into her open mouth. He stroked her own tongue with his as he caressed her back with his large hands. Pushing her palms against his chest, Madeleine broke away from him.

  “We mustn’t, Royce,” she sputtered, left breathless by the kiss. Her thoughts were whirling, realizing how different his kiss was from the one she’d received earlier from Garrett. Garrett’s had spoken of hidden mysteries and promises to be fulfilled. Royce’s seemed rough and cheap in comparison.

  “Why not, Madeleine? I am a man. You are a woman. I am attracted to you, and I know you are to me by how you responded to my kiss. What’s wrong for two people to show how they care for one another?”

  Madeleine wrapped her arms tightly around her body. Her head was swimming. “Because I’m married,” she finally managed.

  “Married?” he said in wonder. He cocked his head to one side and squinted, deep in thought. Finally, he met her gaze. “I don’t care, Madeleine. I love you,” he said desperately. “We’ll run away if that’s what you want. We can go across England into Wales, for all I care. We’ll change our names. I’ll do anything to be with you.”

  For a few seconds, Madeleine was tempted. To become a new person, to leave her myriad of problems behind. The idea held promise.

  But it was wrong. She was married to Henri, for better or for worse, and most of it had been worse. She would stay wed till she died. No, she must return to France and enter a convent. It was the honorable thing to do. God expected it of her. She refused to let the Almighty down.

  Suddenly, Garrett’s image came into her mind, and she pondered his kiss, too. It had been a very different kind of kiss, full of sweetness and promise. No, if she had been given a choice to run from her problems, she would have fled with the enigmatic nobleman who seemed constantly in her thoughts. But she was a married woman, and the only running must be to God’s open arms.

  She shook off the picture of Garrett that danced in her head. She had to fight the attraction she felt for the moody lord of Stanbury. It would cause untold sorrows.

  She must be strong. She had handled far worse to this point. She would handle this, too.

  She looked at Royce then, wondering how she could crush the hope his eyes held. She could not bear to hurt him after all his kindness toward her. Maybe she could let him down gently. Her lies would ease him, and she promised her Dear Lord she’d do ten “Our Fathers” for what she said now.

  “Royce, your kiss was very nice indeed, and I would be a liar if I said I did not enjoy it. But I have much on my mind now. I have a husband I’ve left, Gwenith to nurse, Evan to watch after. I can’t leave now. Can you understand this?”

  “No, Madeleine, I can’t. I want you.” He grabbed her elbows roughly and jerked her close to him, their eyes locking. Her heart raced with fear. Her eyes darted wildly about. Royce seemed to sense her alarm and slowly relaxed his grip. Instead, he folded his arms about her gently and gave her a reassuring hug.

  “You ask too much of me”.” He sighed. “I know you have a heavy burden
on your heart, but once Gwenith’s better, we will talk of this again.”

  She hadn’t the heart to tell him she would be long gone by that time, so she simply nodded.

  “Goodnight, Royce,” she said and walked alone the remaining way to the tent.

  Gwenith had had a fairly good night, and Madeleine had spent a pleasant morning with her friend. She’d left Gwenith napping while she went to perform in the first show of the day.

  Madeleine eagerly scanned the crowd but did not catch sight of Garrett. She did see Ashby, though, Hannah by his side. He waved gaily to her, even as his eye wandered when a pretty girl passed in front of him. Like a bee flying from flower to flower, she thought.

  When the play was completed, she was surprised when he made his way over to her.

  “A lovely performance, Madeleine.” He smiled slyly at her. “I may call you Madeleine?” he asked impishly.

  “Better than Lady Montayne, I suppose,” she quipped.

  He laughed heartily at her words. “Oh, I will enjoy having you around, Madeleine.”

  “What mean you, Sir Ashby?”

  “Oh, I hope I haven’t let the cat from the bag.” He rolled his eyes and began whistling.

  “My lord?” she asked, narrowing her gaze at him.

  He threw his hands in the air. “I give up, dear lady. I could never stand for a woman to look at me in anger.” He sighed. “Your Mister Farley has agreed to have the mummers and the faire move to Stanbury next.”

  Madeleine frowned. “But that’s not correct, my lord. We are to leave in two day’s time for Summerville. There we will spend at least two weeks and celebrate the summer solstice.”

  Ashby flicked a ladybug from his shoulder. “Not anymore, Madeleine. Garrett has arranged for you to bypass that stop. His home, Stanbury, is where you’ll spend the next few weeks.”

  “But . . . but . . .”

  “No buts, dear Madeleine. You’ll be nearby to entertain us for many pleasant hours.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “Until we meet again.”

  Madeleine yanked her hand free and whirled, needing to find Farley. Surely he would not confirm such gibberish.