The Overlord's Bride

by Margaret Moore

  “You told the earl?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “That Montross is within his rights.”

  “What reason does Montross have to hire such men?”

  “To protect himself from me, apparently.”

  Elizabeth sat up so abruptly, the baby kicked in protest. She winced.

  Raymond sat up, too. “What is it?”

  “The babe kicked, that’s all,” she explained before going on to the important thing. “Protection from you? You are not threatening him!”

  “So I told the earl. And the earl is not a fool, Elizabeth. Indeed, I don’t think he trusts any of his vassals completely—which is wise, really. He will keep close watch on Montross, and me, too, in all likelihood.”

  “You?”

  “Yes,” Raymond whispered as a smile grew on his face and he drew her back down to nestle beside him. “I have made excellent alliances with my clever marriage, you see, and he might wonder about my loyalty.”

  “But you are loyal and—”

  “Yes, my love, and so he shall discover as time goes on. However,” he murmured as he traced her lips with his fingertip, “I am weary of talking about the earl and Montross.”

  “As you wish, Raymond,” she agreed, toying with a lock of his hair. “It has been a long day, so no doubt you wish to sleep.”

  “Yes, I do.” His eyes gleamed with seductive mischief. “But not right away.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Four months later, on a cool October day, Rual glanced at the purse full of coins in Fane Montross’s hand. “The babe will come within the fortnight, the village midwife says.”

  Fane had come alone to meet his spy, as he always did. It was easy enough for one lone man who knew it well to venture onto Raymond’s land. “You are certain?”

  “I was there,” Rual assured him. “I heard her with my own ears. Kirkheathe has sent for a midwife from Chesney to tend to her.”

  “Good.”

  “I don’t understand you,” Rual muttered as she put out her hand for the payment. “Why wait till now to have your vengeance?”

  “Perhaps for the same reason you are still here.”

  “You expect to be paid?” Rual scoffed.

  Fane Montross’s smile was as cold as the wind that blew down from the north. “Because I want him to suffer. I could wait until his brat is about to be born, to let him love his bride even better than he did my sister. Then, when he has lost his beloved wife, he will understand something of the anguish I felt when he murdered Allicia.”

  Rual shifted uncomfortably, as if his plan seemed more cold-blooded than she had expected, or as if she was having second thoughts. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing that you need trouble yourself with,” he said with another smile.

  “If you’re planning to attack Donhallow, I want to be well away before you do.”

  “I understand, and I will ensure that you are.”

  “Good. Now give me my money. I may be missed if I’m not back soon.” She took a step toward him. He backed away and put the purse behind his back.

  “What excuse did you give for coming into the woods today?”

  She pointed at the basket on the ground nearby. “I’ve been gathering roots to make a poultice for my lady’s aching back.”

  “Excellent. You always struck me as a clever woman, Rual.”

  “Clever enough to know when to keep my mouth shut,” she said, obviously intending to reassure him as to her ability to keep silent about their conspiracy.

  “Tell me, does Lady Kirkheathe ever speak of me?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a mention of my name?”

  “Never to me.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t, and I don’t want to. All I want is my money.”

  He held out the purse. “Far be it from me to keep a woman waiting,” he said with a smile.

  Rual cautiously reached out to take it. Before she could, Fane grabbed her wrist with his other hand and let the purse drop as he drew his dagger.

  Wild-eyed and panting frantically, Rual struggled to escape his grip.

  His jaw clenched, Fane pulled her inexorably closer. “You see, Rual, you don’t have to worry about anything any more.”

  Then, his teeth bared like a rat, he thrust the dagger into her side.

  Staring with disbelief, her eyes already going glassy, Rual’s breath left her body in a long gasp and she began to slip slowly down to the ground, her body’s weight tugging on his hand.

  “I must draw him out at last, you see,” he explained as she lay dying. “When he rides out to attack me, that is when I shall strike.”

  He let go of her hand and she fell the rest of the way with a thud. Dead or dying, he didn’t care.

  First he retrieved his purse. Then, as he had planned, he did what was necessary to make it look as if she had been beaten, raped and murdered.

  “Are you alone, my lord?”

  At the sound of his wife’s voice, Raymond smiled and raised his eyes from the supply lists he was studying. The harvest had been an excellent one, and they should easily have enough food and money to get them through the winter.

  Indeed, it had been one of the best summers of his life, if not the best of all. There had been no more word of additional mercenaries arriving at Montross’s castle, so Raymond had cause to hope he had realized the error of his ways—and that he would do well to leave Raymond alone.

  Best of all, though, was the presence of Elizabeth in his life. It was as if she had brought sunshine and music, joy and ease, and released him from the dungeon in which he had imprisoned himself.

  She opened the door farther and walked into the room, swaying with the weight and bulk of her unborn child as if she were on the rocking deck of a ship.

  As he studied her pale face, his eyes narrowed. “What is it?” he demanded, rising quickly. “Are you ill? Or is it time?”

  “Neither,” she replied, easing herself into a chair. “I am worried.”

  “About the baby?”

  She shook her head. “No, you worry about that enough for both of us,” she said with a wry smile that quickly gave way to her former seriousness. “It is Rual. She hasn’t come back yet, and the sun is setting.”

  Raymond glanced out the window and realized she was right. “Where did she go?”

  “To the woods. As you know, my back has been a little sore, and she said she could make a salve to ease it. She wanted to go to the wood to find some roots. The day was fine, and I had no need of her, so I said she could go.”

  “By herself?”

  “I suggested she take a guard with her, but she was most indignant. She said she would not go far, and that she knows these woods better than anyone, so she would be perfectly safe.” Her brows knit with dread. “She went just after the noon. I thought she would be back long ago. Then I told myself she must have met a friend in the village and fell to talking. Then several friends.

  “But now, with the sun going down, I fear she has come to some harm. I should have insisted she take a soldier, or at least one of the other servants.”

  Raymond came around the table and knelt before her, looking lovingly into her eyes. “She may have lost track of time in the village, or it could be that she’s had a fall or some such thing in the wood. I’ll send some men out searching for her. Do you know which way she went?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. I didn’t even ask.”

  “Don’t upset yourself,” he cautioned. “We’ll find her.”

  “I hope so!”

  “As she said, she has gone into the woods often before,” he reminded Elizabeth gently.

  “She’s never been late before. It will soon be time for the evening meal. I should have told you before now.”

  “She is a grown woman, not a child,” he replied. “I will send out some men now. I’m sure she’ll either return on her own, or they’ll find
her before dark.”

  Elizabeth put both hands on the arm of the chair and heaved herself to her feet. “I hope you’re right, my love.”

  He put his hands lightly upon her shoulders and gazed intently into her eyes. “Rest, or you will make yourself ill with worry.”

  “I’ll try, my love, I’ll try.”

  “I’ll take you to our room.”

  “I can manage that,” she said with a hint of her usual fire. “You find Rual.”

  They did not find Rual before the sun set. Elizabeth spent a nearly sleepless night worrying about her, while Raymond didn’t sleep at all, as concerned about his fretting wife as he was about the missing maidservant.

  Lying on the bed nestled in his arms, Elizabeth finally nodded off near dawn. When he was sure she was asleep, Raymond rose to lead the search anew.

  Cadmus nudged the dead woman’s body with his nose. He had led them to this spot, and to this terrible discovery.

  Seated upon his horse near the ruined hut, Raymond cursed softly, then called his dog to him.

  This was not what he wanted to find. He wanted to discover Rual at a friend’s house in the village or at worst, with a broken leg or some other injury that had prevented her from returning to the castle, forcing her to spend the night in the woods. To be sure, that would have been bad enough, given the autumn chill, but this was much, much worse.

  He cursed silently. He had truly let down his guard, grown slack in his duty and in the patrols of his land. It was no wonder they had been caught unawares.

  That Rual, or any woman, should have to pay the price for his negligence…

  “Stay, Cadmus,” he ordered quietly as he dismounted and joined the group of soldiers who broke ranks and gathered round Rual.

  She lay on her back, her face battered, her clothing torn so her bare breasts were exposed, her legs splayed apart. Telltale signs of a man’s presence were smeared on her legs. A covered basket lay on its side nearby.

  It was a horrible way for a woman to die, cruel and barbarous, robbing her of dignity as well as life.

  He didn’t want to have to tell Elizabeth about this.

  Raymond removed his cloak and covered the body, then his gaze swept over the men. “There is no need to speak of rape when we return,” he said. “Let Rual have some dignity in death, at least for now.”

  His men glanced at one another uncertainly.

  “The whole truth must be known when we catch the lout who did this and he is tried for it, but I would spare my wife for a little while.”

  He walked around the body, then knelt in the mud on Rual’s left side and examined her bloody bodice. In a moment, he found a rip in the cloth.

  She had been stabbed, a mortal wound beneath her ribs struck by a right-handed man, likely when he was finished with her, leaving no witness to speak against him.

  He sighed heavily. “Put the body on my horse.”

  A subdued Hale quietly detailed some men to do that necessary task. They picked up the corpse and carried it to Castor.

  Castor shivered and his nostrils flared with the scent of death, yet he allowed the men to lay Rual’s body across the saddle.

  Meanwhile, Raymond began to examine the ground where her body had been. It had rained yesterday morning, and it looked as if the mud had been too churned up by hooves to say how many horses had been there, or how many men. Perhaps it was more than one. A roving band of brigands.

  Or battle-hardened mercenaries trespassing on his land.

  “Hale!”

  “My lord?”

  “Your best hunter.”

  “Derrick!” the serjeant barked, and a young man hurried toward them.

  “How many men?”

  Derrick regarded the ground intently, then shrugged. “Hard to say.”

  “Go farther afield and when you have a number, tell me.”

  The man bowed his head. “Aye, my lord.”

  “Don’t go alone.”

  “Here, you, Martin and Rob,” Hale called out to two soldiers, “go with Derrick and keep your eyes open.”

  The two men joined Derrick, who studied the ground a moment, then led them away along the path.

  “A bad business this, my lord,” Hale noted in a whisper. “Ain’t had nothing like this in years.”

  “No, thank God,” Raymond muttered.

  Then he spotted something shining in the mud. He leaned over and picked up a silver coin.

  It couldn’t be Rual’s. Even if she had silver, she would hardly carry it into the woods with her.

  Maybe in her struggle, Rual had torn off her attacker’s purse and spilled the contents. Gathering them up, one might have been missed.

  In her struggle.

  That was what seemed odd.

  He looked at the ground again, particularly the indentation where her body had lain. The ground around it bore many footprints.

  None of them were smeared as if she had twisted and fought.

  There were no deep ruts from her kicking ankles.

  He could remember no bruises on her arms where she would have been held.

  Had she been stabbed first? If so, why beat her head so badly? That wound in her side would have nearly killed her at once, and certainly left her without the strength to defend herself.

  If she was not fighting, would she have torn off a purse?

  Or was this something else entirely?

  Perhaps she had come here to meet someone. A lover? He had never noticed Rual paying special attention to any man, or a man to her, which did not mean that she was celibate. Maybe this was yet another sign of his lack of supervision of his people.

  Or did the coin indicate something else? Maybe she had been selling something she had carried there in the basket. It could be she had stolen something from the hall to sell.

  He strode to the basket, picked it up and pulled away the cover. Inside were some dirt-covered roots. These must be the roots she needed to make the salve for Elizabeth. Perhaps he was wrong to be so suspicious.

  Or it could be that looking for roots had been an excuse to come here.

  God’s wounds, a woman had betrayed him once…

  He stood absolutely still and recalled all he could of Rual.

  What did he know of her? Almost nothing, save that she had been in Donhallow ten years and rarely smiled. She had always kept her distance with him, but so had everyone, except Elizabeth. He could hardly consider that unusual.

  No, there was nothing he could say against Rual, except that she had unwisely come into the woods alone and somehow, a silver coin had been near her body.

  Derrick and the other soldiers appeared, trotting down the road. Derrick reached Raymond first. Panting, he bent over, his hands on his knees.

  “Only one, my lord,” he gasped, looking up at Raymond. “One horse.”

  “One?” Raymond repeated.

  “Aye, my lord. Sure as I live, just one. Lots of marks, but all from the same horse.”

  “Where was he from?”

  “My lord?”

  “From what direction?” Raymond growled impatiently.

  “Sir Fane Montross’s estate.”

  So, the varlet came from Montross’s land. Raymond was not surprised.

  Who on Montross’s land would have silver coins?

  The answer came to him instantly. Montross.

  He had often heard Fane say that one death could accomplish more than an armed attack. How better to terrify the people of Donhallow without risking the earl’s wrath or his own men?

  Maybe this was intended to be a warning, or a sign of more terror to come.

  But there was no proof, beyond his own belief that Montross was capable of such villainy. This would not be nearly enough to satisfy a justice of the king’s court, or the earl.

  Nevertheless, Raymond silently vowed, whoever had done this, for whatever reason, he would be found.

  And he would pay.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elizabeth awoke and found her
self alone.

  Judging by the light shining in through the narrow window, Raymond must have already gone to continue the search.

  She should never have allowed Rual to go alone. She should have insisted she take a guard.

  Surely there was no great danger, Elizabeth thought, trying to reassure herself. Likely it would be as Raymond had said: Rual had fallen and injured herself so that she could not get back. The night had not been so terribly cold.

  She heard the castle gates swing open and quickly slipped her soft shoes over her bare feet. Easing herself up, she put her feet on the floor, then padded toward the window as quickly as she could. She had to lean forward much farther now to see below into the courtyard.

  A body lay over Raymond’s horse. He and his equally grim men stood nearby.

  “Dear God!” she gasped as she clutched the sill. “Rual.” She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands.

  This should not have happened. Even alone, Rual should have been safe on their land.

  Elizabeth wept quietly, until she heard the door open and Raymond’s footsteps hurriedly cross the room. He put his arm about her.

  “Elizabeth,” he crooned huskily as he helped her stand, “it cannot be good for you to kneel on this cold stone floor.”

  “That is Rual on your horse, isn’t it?” she asked through her tears, her anxious gaze searching his face for confirmation as he led her to the bed. She sat heavily.

  Nodding, he just as anxiously studied her as he sat beside her.

  “How did it happen?”

  “She was attacked.”

  “Attacked?” Elizabeth murmured incredulously. She regarded Raymond with grim certainty. “She was raped, too, wasn’t she?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you about that until I had to,” he confessed.

  “Raymond, I was in a convent, not heaven. Some of the girls were sent there because they had been raped, and though they had not been at fault, they were exiled there to prevent a scandal. So I know very well such things happen. How far from the castle was she?”

  “At the ruined hut near the river.”

  “But that is not far,” Elizabeth protested as if that somehow made Rual’s death impossible—as she wished it did.