Love Hate & Betrayal

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Love Hate & Betrayal Page 24

by Linda Sole


  ‘God forgive me!’

  Beatrice crossed herself and then sank to her knees before the crucifix on her wall. She bent her head in prayer, seeking to calm the rage that had built in her heart against Melloria’s husband.

  When she rose some time later, she sat down at her board and began to write another letter to the earl. She might have misjudged him. If he were away from home it might be that he had not seen her letter. If he did not answer her she would write again and again until someone investigated her suspicions that Nicholas Malvern had stolen her sister’s child. She would not give up until the truth was revealed, whatever that truth might be.

  *

  Nicholas finished binding the man’s arm. He was a carpenter and the cut inflicted by his chisel was not deep but the wound had been neglected and had become infected before he was called. He had applied a poultice of maggots to eat out the poisoned flesh. They had done their work and were consigned to the fire before he rebound the clean wound with salves and clean linen.

  ‘Next time, do not neglect yourself,’ he warned severely. ‘A few days longer and there would have been nothing I could do for you but call a priest.’

  The man shivered and looked shamed-faced. Nicholas knew that he was afraid of him. He was feared by many of those he cured, because in their ignorance they did not understand his methods and thought his cures the work of the Devil. Only their fear of death was stronger.

  A wry smile touched his face as he rode back to his house. Sometimes now, he wondered if he had in truth invoked the Devil when he chose to abandon his principles for Anne’s sake. Was the laughter he heard more often now real or only in his mind?

  Of late he had been tortured by the fear that Mother Beatrice would bring destruction on their heads. Had she recognised Iolanthe as her sister’s child? She might suspect it but she could not know for certain.

  He had been debating with himself for weeks: should he visit the abbey on pretext of asking how the nuns were – or should he stay away?

  If he spoke to her it might put his tortured mind at rest, and yet it might arouse her suspicions further.

  *

  Nicholas finished writing in his journal, describing the wound and its treatment. He had made his decision. Several weeks had passed since the Abbess had visited him. Nothing had happened. No one had come looking for the child. He should put it from his mind, because it was too much of a risk to visit the abbey.

  His thoughts moved to Anne. There was now and then a speculative expression in her eyes, as if she too had something that puzzled or worried her. Yet when he questioned her, she merely shook her head.

  ‘What should be wrong, Nicholas?

  ‘Nothing as far as I am concerned. Does something ail you? Is there anything you need?’

  ‘I am content with what I have…’ For a moment she hesitated and he saw something in his eyes that told him she was holding back.’

  ‘Are you sure that nothing bothers you?’

  Anne’s eyes held his. ‘You will think me foolish, husband – but sometimes in the night and at times in the day – I hear a child sobbing as if she would break her heart. When I go to Iolanthe she is sleeping peacefully or playing. I do not understand why this child should call to me.’

  Nicholas felt a cold trickle down his spine, and somewhere nearby the laughter echoed loud and clear. His mouth was dry and his mind sought frantically for an answer but before he could find one, Anne laughed.

  ‘Of course you think me foolish but you will not say. It is merely a mother’s anxiety for her child. You will not scold me, Nicholas. I know I am foolish.’

  ‘You could never be foolish, Anne.’

  He should have told her. Nicholas knew it was his chance to tell her the truth but he was afraid. If he confessed everything she would leave him, and that he could not bear.

  Shutting his books decisively, Nicholas went in search of his wife and daughter. It was a bright spring day and he found them in the meadow behind the house picking mushrooms. Iolanthe had been rolling in the long grass and Anne was smiling to see her child play.

  Anne looked happy. Not anxious, angry or distressed, just content. It was simply his guilty conscience that plagued him.

  He turned his head as Cedric came up to him, raising his fine brows. ‘You have a message for me?

  ‘A young lad has cut his leg with a scythe through to the bone. He is faint from loss of blood and his father begs for your help.’

  Nicholas sighed as he turned away from the scene that had so delighted him. ‘I shall go at once. I may have to amputate but if there is a chance I shall try to save the leg…’

  THIRTY

  ‘Why have you been avoiding me?’ Rhoda asked as she met the man that she had been determined to speak to alone since his arrival. ‘Do you hate me, Kerrin?’

  ‘Would you blame me if I said yes?’ Kerrin’s gaze burned down at her, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘You cheated me with false promises and then you married a man for his position and his wealth. Would you expect me to love you still?’

  Rhoda moved towards him. She had found him in the chapel where she came to pray in the evenings. It was dark for there was no light except the moon shining in at a high window. Shadows fell between the arches and columns of stone, making pools of darkness where they could not be seen by anyone coming in from outside. The priest would not come for another hour to take the mass and they were quite alone.

  ‘Why did you come here if not to see me?’ she asked, her voice breathy with excitement. His words meant nothing. She had seen the way his eyes were always on her and she knew he wanted her, perhaps he loved her still. ‘Tell me you came because you knew that I pray here alone at this hour…tell me you still love me, Kerrin.’

  ‘And if I did?’ He reached out, his fingers gripping her so painfully that she almost cried out. His face was fierce with wanting, the longing in his eyes, blazing at her with such passion that she almost fainted. ‘You are wed to a noble lord. He would kill me as soon as look at me. Why do you tempt me, Rhoda? Your husband should send you home. It is not safe here. We could be attacked any day and you could be raped and killed.’

  ‘Would you care if I died?’

  ‘Of course I should care.’ Kerrin dragged her close, his mouth fastening on hers with a moan of frustrated need. His kiss was punishing, commanding, making her melt into him as she felt something she had not realised was missing stir to life inside her. ‘You are in my blood, in my flesh and my soul. I dream of you every night. I cannot rest for thinking of you in his arms. Sometimes I want to kill him and you…’

  ‘Oh my love,’ she breathed, letting her head rest against his shoulder as his mouth released hers and he drew apart from her. ‘I beg you to forgive me for what I did. I was such a fool. I did not realise what I lost until it was too late. I have regretted sending you away. I was blinded by Robert’s wealth. After you had gone I wished that I had come with you.’

  Kerrin stared down at her lovely face, his eyes boring into her as if he tried to read her mind. ‘If I could believe you I would risk anything…do anything to have you. We could go away, live abroad. I could take service with a foreign lord…’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Rhoda said, smiling up at him. ‘It is what I want more than anything in the world, Kerrin. But not yet…not until his child is born. If I took the babe Robert would pursue us to the ends of the earth. You do not know him…what he is capable of…’

  ‘I know he hates and suspects me,’ Kerrin said. ‘I serve Montroy when I had already given my word to your husband. Devereaux thinks me faithless. He has no reason to trust me, yet he hath greater reason to hate Montroy and does nothing against him.’

  ‘He bides his time,’ Rhoda said. ‘The prince made him promise that he would not force a quarrel on Montroy until this rebellion was settled. When the struggle is over he will kill him.’

  ‘And will you leave when the child is born?’ Kerrin demanded. ‘Will you come away with me?’

 
‘Yes…but I fear Montroy. I have seen such hatred in his eyes when he looks at me. I fear that he may take his revenge out on my husband and me. He has said such things to me. He frightens me. If we ran away, he might kill me…he might kill you too.’

  Kerrin looked down at her, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful. He had heard that note in her voice before and he knew her too well.

  ‘What are you asking of me, Rhoda?’

  ‘I want Montroy dead,’ she said and her face was hard, her eyes cold. ‘He murdered my father. I had no choice but to give my promise to marry the earl because he would have sent me to a convent. Had I known you were nearby I should not have given it, but when you came to me that morning it was too late.’

  Kerrin’s gaze became angry. ‘You want me to kill Montroy, don’t you? Your husband refuses and so you ask it of me – it is your price for leaving Devereaux, isn’t it?’

  ‘How can you accuse me of such a thing?’ Rhoda stroked his arm, feeling the hardness of toned muscles. He shrugged off her hand, his mouth set hard. ‘I know that we should never be safe while he lives…besides, if you love me you would do this for me. Do you love me, Kerrin – do you love me enough?’

  ‘Witch!’ Kerrin’s pupils were like black ice. ‘How do you propose I kill him? He would never accept a challenge from me.’ He glared down at her in anger. ‘I was knighted by the King at the earl’s request. I owe him some loyalty…’

  ‘If your loyalty to Montroy means more than I…’ Rhoda turned away but he seized her by the arms, swinging her back to face him. ‘Is it so much to ask?’

  ‘What guarantee have I that you will keep your promise?’

  ‘I promise on my life, Kerrin. If you do this for me…may God strike me down if I betray you.’

  Kerrin hesitated, then drew her close. He bent his head, kissing her so fiercely that when he let her go she almost fell.

  ‘I must wait my chance. It will be murder for he would never meet me in combat – but I will do it for you.’

  Rhoda’s smile was dizzying. She touched his cheek, running her finger over his mouth seductively. ‘If you do this for me I shall leave Robert as soon as the child is born. He will have his son and we shall go far away where no one knows us and I shall be your wife.’

  His fingers dug into her upper arms, making her wince. ‘If I do this and you betray me I shall not wait for God to strike you down.’

  ‘I vow I shall keep my promise. You are the only one I care for, Kerrin. I swear it.’

  ‘You must ask Devereaux to let you go back to Craigmoor. Tell your husband that you are tired of being cooped up in this place and you want to feel comfortable at home to have your child. If he cares for you at all he will let you go.’

  ‘Yes, he will,’ Rhoda smiled up at him confidently. ‘If he thinks his child may be in danger he will let me go.’ Robert had not come to her bed for a week. He had spoken of her returning to Craigmoor but she had resisted. Now she would agree the next time he asked. ‘Robert cares for his unborn son if not for me.’

  Kerrin looked at her, suspicion mixing with the need and longing in his eyes. ‘Remember, Rhoda – you will be mine for the rest of your life.’

  ‘It is what I want,’ she whispered and reached up to kiss him. ‘Now you must go for sometimes Robert comes here to find me. If he saw us together he might have you killed. We must keep our secret until the time is right. I cannot meet you again or Robert might become suspicious.’

  ‘I shall not try to see you again, but when your child is born I shall come for you.’

  ‘You will kill Montroy? I have your promise?’

  ‘You have my word. I must wait my time but there are some months before the babe is born. Before you are brought to bed of the child, Montroy will be in his grave.’

  ‘Then I am satisfied,’ she said. ‘Go now, my love, for I must be at my devotions when Robert comes…’

  *

  Robert saw the man leaving the chapel and his suspicions burned deeply. Rhoda went every evening to pray alone before mass. She told him it was because she prayed for her babe to be safely born and that it should be a son. He had wanted to believe her, but seeing the knight he despised leaving the chapel raised grave doubts in his mind. Torn between challenging the knight and risking the prince’s wrath and confronting his wife, he hesitated and then strode into the chapel.

  Rhoda was in her usual place, her head bent as she prayed. She looked so devout, so innocent as she knelt, eyes closed, hands clasped together that once again he could not decide whether or not she was the faithful wife she claimed or a wicked deceiver.

  After a moment or two she stood up and turned to face him, a smile of welcome on her lips. She walked to meet him, her body graceful even though the signs of her childbearing had begun to be obvious. Her head was covered by a simple wimple that gave her the appearance of modesty, but in the bedchamber she showed her true nature. She was wanton and he could not trust her. In that moment Robert made up his mind. Rhoda must return to Craigmoor to await the birth of his child. He had been a fool to allow her to rule him through his base desire. She was beautiful and even now he wanted to lie with her, but he would remove temptation. His son was what mattered and she would be safer at his home.

  ‘Have you come to pray, my lord?’ she asked in such a sweet, modest tone that he was wracked by indecision once more.

  ‘I came to find you, Rhoda,’ his voice grated harshly on his own ear. ‘I have come to a decision. I shall send some of my men to escort you to Craigmoor. We move on in the morning and there will be more fighting now that it is spring. You will be safer at home.’

  ‘But your cousin does not like me…’ Her mouth drooped in a sulky pout. ‘I shall not feel safe with Andrew of Exeter in charge of the castle.’

  ‘I shall send Jonathan with you. He will relieve Philip of his post and he may bring his men to join us here, as I know he would wish. My friend will care for you in my stead. I believe you trust and like Sir Jonathan – is that not so, Rhoda?’

  ‘Sir Jonathan is a true friend to you, and I believe to me,’ Rhoda smiled and touched his arm. ‘If Sir Jonathan remains and your cousin takes his place here with you I am content – though I shall miss you, my husband. I shall pray for your safe return every day.’

  ‘Will you, Rhoda?’ Robert studied her face. Was she honest or a clever deceiver? He cursed the day he had taken her from her father. Perhaps if he had not married, if he had continued his search for Melloria he might be at peace. Melloria’s face haunted his dreams. It seemed to him that she cried to him for help as she lay dying and he woke crying her name. It was the reason he had ceased to visit Rhoda’s bed. He was torn by guilt. His lusts had betrayed him. It would have been better had he sent Rhoda to the convent. ‘I believe I wronged you when I stole you from your father.’

  ‘No! If you had not I should have been the wife of Montroy and I would rather die than lie with that monster. I hate him.’

  ‘You reproach me because I have not avenged you?’ Robert nodded. Perhaps his lack of action was the reason Melloria’s spirit called to him in his dreams. He had done nothing to avenge her death and his conscience smote him.

  ‘I would rest easier if I knew that Montroy was dead.’

  ‘I shall kill him,’ Robert vowed but it was not her eager face he

  saw looking at him with eyes that accused. ‘I promise you that when the time is right I shall see him beg for mercy at my feet.’

  THIRTY ONE

  Anne was cleaning Nicolas’s study. She allowed no one else to touch his things and was very careful never to move or disturb his writings. Running her fingers over the smooth velum of his current journal, she smiled. Nicholas was such a studious man. She liked that about him. His gentleness pleased her, though his harsh looks and the tone he used to his servants at times was misleading. Had she not experienced his tenderness she might have thought him very different to the man she knew him to be. There was at times a haunted look in his eyes…and a sinist
er shadow that seemed to hover. Foolish, foolish, foolish. Her imagination was wild and not to be trusted.

  Feeling curious, Anne was tempted to look inside the journal. Nicholas had been angry when she looked at the book of secrets, but surely he would not mind her reading his journal? He often talked to her of his work and she was interested in his writings.

  The first page had a detailed drawing of what she realised was a body cut open as she would gut a fish, laid back so that all the insides were revealed. The drawing had notes all around it some of them written in Latin, which she recognised but could not read in Nicholas’s spidery writing.

  Turning the page, she discovered a recipe that he had made up for the Abbess of Saint Innocent, who had come to the house asking for a cure for her sick nuns. Staring down at the page, Anne had a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck.

  Mother Abbess…from the convent of Saint Innocent…

  Why did that make her feel cold all over? Anne shivered and closed the journal. She felt frightened but did not know why or what had disturbed her. Nicholas treated many sick people. He had treated members of the church before this so why should that name arouse these strange feelings in Anne?

  It was as if a black cloud had gathered at her shoulder, threatening to destroy her and everything she cared for. She hurried from the room and rushed to the kitchen, where Iolanthe played with the wooden doll that she had dressed for her. Griszelda sat by the fire watching the child benevolently. Everything was as it should be. There was no need to be frightened. Yet the fear remained.

  ‘Is something wrong, mistress?’ Griszelda asked.

  ‘No, nothing is wrong. All is as it should be.’

  Anne tried not to question the darkness in her mind. Nicholas told her that she ought not to try too hard to remember her past life…that it would come back to her when she was ready.

 

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