The Dumont Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Emalie Montgomerie was the perfect wife for a man like him—suitably titled, wealthy and of marriageable age. All the things that had made her the perfect target for John’s plans. For now, he had her, controlled her and her wealth and lands. And he would continue to do so at Richard’s command until the truth was known.

  Controlled as long as they both kept secret their delay of the consummation of their vows. Her request had canceled his need to explain his physical difficulties and had saved him an incredible amount of embarrassment. But it had also given her a true reason for repudiation in spite of Eleanor’s demand that there be none. Mayhap his temporary difficulty was not the blessing he called it?

  Another thought troubled him. If his wife was involved with John’s attempts to wrest control of England from Richard, he had just provided her with an escape from this union. What would Richard say to that? However, had he the need to extricate himself from this union, he could do so now in good faith. He would be able to swear on his honor that he had not consummated the marriage.

  It was a possibility, although a narrow one, that he would need this later, and bloody sheets could be explained and the physician appointed to treat him by the king could attest to his physical limitations. Not that he would want that known, of course, since it would put a doubt on his ability to produce an heir for his estates and titles. But it was good to have an escape route planned when one went into battle.

  And he felt as though this was the battle of his life, even more important than his daily struggles to stay alive while in prison, for the life he had saved was nothing without his honor. And fulfilling this task set before him would regain his honor.

  Christian stood and stretched once more before snuffing out the candles left burning around his chamber. Of necessity he would leave his door closed this night, since anyone passing could glance in and see that he did not sleep with his bride. Taking a few deep breaths in and forcing them out, he tried to let go of the tension in his body. In the next few weeks, he would eat and sleep and train with the knights to regain his strength and his form. And when he was once again himself, he would discover his wife’s secrets and decide whether or not to take her to his bed and claim her for himself…a wife in fact, not only in name.

  Dropping his robe to the floor, he climbed into his bed and lay on his side, awaiting sleep. It came, in his physically exhausted state, quickly.

  Chapter Seven

  Emalie knelt in the chapel and thanked the Lord she had survived her wedding night. She knew, of course, that simply making it through that particular night and its peculiar change of events was no guarantee of future safety, but she would take this reprieve and make the best of it.

  The morning had found her chamber filled with those who wanted to witness the priest bless the couple and who wanted to see the proof of her lost innocence. The mark on the sheet was suitably sized and apparently satisfied those who saw it. If Alyce or Sir Walter were surprised to see it, they gave no sign. Her husband had scrambled from the bed, gifted her with a kiss on her cheek and then disappeared into his chambers. As her women surrounded and took care of her, Emalie remained lost in her own thoughts. Soon, she found herself in the hall breaking her fast with her husband. The morning continued to move around her at some surreal pace and when Christian announced his plans for the day, she had asked to accompany him.

  “My lord, I would join you and show you my…your lands.” She rose as he did, intent on being the one to guide him through the keep and village.

  “Nay, my lady. Please consider this a day of rest. Sir Walter and Fitzhugh will be more than adequate for my needs.” He lifted her hand to his lips and lightly touched it. “I am certain that riding would be somewhat uncomfortable for you.”

  The nervous laughter and the deeper chuckling from the men spread through those watching and listening and told her that word of the bloody sheets had been shared and their marriage was believed consummated. She was safe, but at what cost?

  He stepped back and turned away from her, motioning to the two men nearest to follow him. Anger and pride straightened her spine and she took a step toward his retreating figure.

  “My lord? I would ask your leave to ride along with you. I assure you, I will not hold up your progress.”

  Christian stopped and turned back to her. Although the smile never left his face, she saw the intensity in his eyes and knew she had overstepped herself. Her body’s first reaction was to back away from him as he approached.

  “The queen has gone as she told us she would and I am familiar with the uproar that comes with both the arrival and departure of one of the royal family. I am certain that there is much to do here to reclaim the household as our own. See to that, my lady.”

  He nodded at her, his gaze never leaving hers. The challenge was clear in his voice and his stare. Without thought, she began to reply and was stopped by his whispered warning.

  “Acquiesce in this, Emalie,” he said in an undertone so that no one could hear his words but she. “Do not force me to embarrass you before those you call yours.”

  Blinking at his words, Emalie’s breath held at his threat. What would he reveal to her people? She could not take the chance.

  “The morning’s weather looks promising, my lord,” she said, loud enough for her words to carry through the hall. “I am pleased that you can take advantage of such a day to see Greystone at its best.” Then, lowering her head, she eased into a deep curtsy before him.

  “Fare thee well, my lady,” he said as he turned and walked away from her.

  She rose from her curtsy and found that her legs shook. Once Christian was gone from the hall, she sought the quiet of the chapel. And she had spent a good hour in prayer before her maid sought her out.

  “Milady, he means to hear grievances later today.”

  At first, Emalie was not sure who Alyce spoke of. Then the reality sank into her consciousness. Her new husband, the Earl of Harbridge, would supplant her in this important duty. Hearing the complaints of her people and dispensing justice was something that Emalie had done since her father’s death. Desperation filled her at the thought of someone other than a Montgomerie carrying out the lord of the manor’s duties.

  “Did you hear me, milady? He is planning to…”

  Emalie understood completely and clearly, probably even more so than her faithful servant. Christian was moving to consolidate his position now that he was Earl of Harbridge.

  “He has the right,” she whispered.

  She had known this moment would come; sooner or later she would have married and her husband would have taken control of her estates—this was really no surprise to her. The only unexpected part was that it happened so quickly.

  The only way to stop him would be to repudiate their vows, but that was simply not a possibility. Eleanor had found this man for a reason and Emalie was not prepared to risk her people’s lives to avoid giving up her control.

  “But milady, ’tis your right to hear complaints.” Alyce’s brows shifted into a frown, most likely waiting for Emalie to react more strongly to this encroachment on her rule over Greystone castle and village.

  “No longer, Alyce. No longer. Now ’tis my husband’s right.”

  The older woman clamped her lips shut as though trying not to reply. Shaking her head, Alyce nodded and stepped back after deciding not to argue this any longer. Her servant turned and left the chapel without another word.

  It was a good thing, too, since Emalie could feel her own emotions raging within her and she did not think she could answer more questions. Bitterness at her fate and the loss of her father pulsed through her, making her stomach churn and her eyes sting with tears. A sense of loss pervaded her spirit—her parents gone and now she would watch as her power was eroded bit by bit by this man brought by Eleanor.

  Looking up at the altar, she wondered if the Almighty was there, as the priests taught. And if He was there, was he listening to her prayers? Prayers sent daily begging for protecti
on, for understanding and especially for acceptance of her new circumstances. Some requests, it would seem, had been heard, others ignored.

  Her hardest task was yet to come and Emalie realized she needed to yield to her new husband’s attempts to become the Earl of Harbridge before her people. Those who lived and worked at Greystone must come first, as her parents had taught her. As a noblewoman and as a Montgomerie, she had responsibilities to carry out and this marriage was the first step of many. If Christian was to protect her and her people, he needed to be accepted by them and seen by those who threatened the safety and well-being of Greystone as a competent warrior who would not be defeated.

  Emalie bowed her head in respect and then walked out of the quiet stone room where she often sought comfort and a respite from her duties when they overwhelmed her. As Christian had said, a visit from royalty, especially a protracted one, caused many problems for a household and she needed to right things within Greystone’s keep and village. For now she would give her attention fully to that task and try to put her other worries from her mind.

  Emalie had been correct—the usually unsettled weather in this area had cooperated with his desire to tour the village and surrounding properties of Greystone Castle. The sun had become an ally and broken through the clouds enough to make the day warm and dry. Unfortunately, his body betrayed him once more.

  Christian looked at his escort with envy—Walter was a robust man, filled with life and endurance. Without meaning to, Christian rubbed his hand down his chest and felt the bones now so close beneath his skin. He would need to live on his reputation as a tournament champion and warrior until he regained his strength and form. God willing, with food and training, he would feel more himself quickly.

  It was only midmorn and he was exhausted. Walter had led him through the village and toward some of the outlying properties first. They’d visited several larger farms, all belonging to the Montgomerie family, and now his. Well-fed children ran from the houses to greet him as he was introduced to the tenants and to some of his new vassals. Herds of cattle and sheep grazed in pastures, fattening for the kill. The fields were filled with abundance, crops of all kinds that would fill their larder through the winter and feed the people.

  As Fitzhugh opened the records at each stop to show him the harvest and planting and the costs of each farm, he was struck again with the abilities of his new wife. Apparently not contented with letting her steward and castellan work without guidance after her father’s death, Emalie had stepped in and made many decisions about the running of her estates, decisions that seemed both well thought out and successful. A wife fit for a nobleman with many estates.

  But at what cost? How had her properties escaped John’s pillaging? Why did Richard suspect her? He felt as though he was working in the dark without clues or information to guide his efforts. His attention was drawn to the sound of someone clearing their throat.

  “Aye, Sir Walter?” He acknowledged the man with a nod.

  “Would you care to take a short rest, my lord? The heat grows stronger now,” Walter asked in a gruff voice.

  Christian rubbed the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and nodded. Given an excuse, he would take it, for he was not far from falling from the mount he rode. The small group of men directed their horses off the road and into a copse of trees. Dismounting, each man took out a skin of wine or ale and refreshed himself. Looking through the trees, Christian walked into the shadows to relieve himself.

  The sound of rushing water gained his attention and, when done with personal tasks, he followed it until he found a fast-running stream. Kneeling beside it, he scooped water with his hands and splashed his face, head and neck. Then he drank of the water and let it cool his throat.

  “Although we are still on Harbridge lands, it is probably not a good idea to stray alone from the road into the woods.” Walter stood but a few yards away.

  “Outlaws? Here?” Christian wiped his mouth and face with his hands and turned to face Walter.

  “Lawlessness still reigns the edges of Harbridge, my lord. My lady’s father was not completely successful in that regard.”

  Christian stood and faced Walter. “And tell me of the late Earl of Harbridge. What kind of man was he?”

  “A fair man, my lord. One who considered his properties and the people who served him as his responsibilities.”

  “Unlike many?” Christian probed.

  “England has become a dangerous place since Richard was captured. Many lords turned a blind eye to all that happened around them and the common people suffered.”

  “Why has it become such a place?”

  Walter stuttered at first then explained. “The infighting of the Plantagenets has hurt all those who serve them, from villeins to lords. Surely I tell you nothing that you do not already know?”

  Of course he knew this, but Christian wanted to determine what this man so integral to the running of the estate believed. The Plantagenet games emanated from his own country and he knew well of John’s land-grabbing efforts over the last several years. Since Richard cared little for the dreary, cold land of England, he had looked away from John’s antics. It was only during Richard’s imprisonment, when John began using England’s resources to pay Richard’s enemies, that Eleanor began exercising more control. Or trying to.

  Christian began walking back toward the road as they talked. “And why did Montgomerie never make suitable arrangements for his daughter? Especially with so much danger surrounding them?”

  “He did, my lord,” Walter answered quickly then he paused. “But that was no concern of mine.”

  “One would think that as castellan, everything that affects this demesne is your concern.”

  “I still think you should ask the lady about that, my lord.”

  Christian heard the insolence in Walter’s reply and looked back at the man. Walter would not meet his gaze. Obviously torn between his former lord and the new one, the castellan chose discretion. Deciding it was best to find out how far the man would go to protect his lady, Christian asked, “If I ordered you to tell me what you seek to hide, would you, Sir Walter?”

  The older man rose to his full height and did not attempt to hide his disdain. “Nay, my lord. I will protect my lady at all times.”

  “But she does not need protection from me.” Irritation entered his voice and he did not try to lessen it. Let the man hear his anger.

  “So you say, my lord.”

  Silence grew between them. Christian faced Sir Walter and crossed his arms over his chest. Even in fit form, he could not match the man’s height or bulk. But power was in his hand.

  “I could have you removed from your post, even from Greystone itself. What say you now?”

  Walter squinted as the sun’s rays broke through the branches above them. He took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

  “Aye, my lord, you could do that and more, if you chose to. But I still say that you should ask the lady these questions and not me.”

  A measure of pride glinted in the man’s eyes as he stood his ground against these inquiries into his lady’s history. Christian weighed this against any possible efforts to force disclosure and knew he had lost the challenge. He turned and walked the distance to his horse. Mounting, he called out to the men. “We ride on now.”

  With a flurry of activity, the small contingent of guards mounted and moved onto the road. Fitzhugh and then Walter took their places in the lead and the group moved down the road to their next destination. Although he knew the guards were confused, he said not a word to them or to Fitzhugh, who glanced surreptitiously in his direction and Walter’s.

  There was more to the Lady Emalie and her availability for marriage. Had there been someone else before him? Another betrothed? And what had occurred to stop that marriage? Unfortunately, there was no one else within Greystone he could ask, for he feared they would all be just as protective of Emalie. And he would have disclosed more about his mission than he should.


  Realizing that retreat was at some times a strategic move, he decided to observe more and question less until he was more secure in his position. He would begin his new approach this afternoon while he held manor court…or he would if he survived long enough to return to the castle.

  Chapter Eight

  He was limping badly by the time he entered the hall. Slowing his pace did not help, nor did holding himself erect and imagining the humiliation of having to pick himself up from the floor. It was sheer determination that moved his feet forward to the table on the raised dais. And it was pure stubbornness that he would not permit himself to call a halt to the proceedings and find his bed.

  He must be seen as hearty and able to defend what was his. Scavengers could smell weakness and he would not bring them to Greystone. A lord not able to carry out his responsibilities did not deserve to have them. And his honor, already assaulted and trampled upon, would not allow him to surrender in this.

  Christian dragged his weakened body up the several steps and sat down hard on the large chair at the center of the table. Lucky for him, a large pillow cushioned his descent and did not cause him further harm on landing. An efficient servant handed him a goblet of wine which he drank in one long swallow. A platter of cheeses, cold meats and bread followed, but he could not decide if he was more tired than hungry and so he sat for a few minutes just trying to stay upright.

  Some villagers gathered in the hall in anticipation of his hearing of grievances. Christian fought to appear awake, but the effort simply added to his exhaustion. Fitzhugh’s approach forced him to turn.

  “My lord, would you prefer that we cancel today’s proceedings?”