“My lord, the lady is awake,” Fatin said, bowing before him.
“You were ordered to stay with her, Fatin. Why did you come and not send a servant?” Luc’s face turned red, but Christian did not care at this moment. “I do not want her left alone,” he explained to both of them.
“She is not alone. The old priest is with her. I thought to give them some measure of privacy. My lord.” The latter was added more in disdain than in respect. He heard it in her voice.
“Why did the priest visit her? I said no visitors until she was out of bed. Pray, tell me not that she has left her bed.”
He was already several paces on his way when she called to him.
“Your lady stays in bed, but asked for the priest herself. I summoned him before I came to you. As to the reason for his visit—who can say why those of your faith feel such a need to seek out their counsel?”
She would only share those controversial and almost heretical thoughts with Luc and him, for Fatin had a clear understanding of the danger of the words she spoke. And she had to be upset to do so. Christian stopped and faced Fatin and Luc, who trailed closely behind him.
“Your pardon, Fatin. I am overwrought in my concern over Emalie and did not mean to insult you.” Fatin nodded, accepting his apology. “I am glad you were here for her, especially when she has no one else she counts as a friend.”
Luc looked suitably impressed with his repentance and smiled. “I understand your concern, my friend. When someone you love is in danger—”
“Love?” he interrupted. “She is my wife. It is appropriate to be concerned for her welfare.”
Certainly he had some tender feelings for Emalie, but he would not consider himself in love with her. Their marriage was an arrangement of two people who suited each other well and got along passably well. He respected her, he even liked her and, God knows, he lusted for her. But love? He shook his head at the two of them, denying the emotion that would simply complicate matters more. No, not love.
He entered the keep and made use of the back stairs, scaring at least two laundry women who carried bundles much too slowly for his pace. Reaching the top floor, he walked to their chambers. He leaned his ear against the door and heard hushed voices within. Waiting as long as his impatience would bear, Christian knocked on the door after just another minute. He also did not wait to be invited inside, choosing to open the door.
The old priest, with hand extended over his wife’s bowed head, was praying quietly. Christian stood by the door and watched. He saw the tears on Emalie’s cheeks and wanted to interrupt, but seeing the concern on the priest’s face, he delayed. Father Elwood finished and lifted Emalie’s chin to look at her directly. With a whispered word, he released her and stood.
“Ah, my lord. You are here already.”
“I did not want the countess to be disturbed, Father.”
Christian walked closer and examined Emalie more closely.
“Sometimes, my lord, tears are good for the soul.” The priest gathered up his stole and crucifix and prepared to leave. “My lady, I will keep you in my prayers. Come to Mass as soon as you are able.”
Emalie nodded in reply. Christian went to her and sat on the bed. “Are you well?”
“I am tired still, in spite of the hours I slept, my lord. But otherwise I am well.”
He lifted her chin as the priest had and used a linen cloth left nearby to dry her tears. “Are you hungry or thirsty?”
“Nay, my lord.”
“I have asked that you use my name, Emalie.”
“I was not certain of your feelings, my lord.”
“Now that I know the truth?”
She looked at him in fear. He had not seen that expression in such a long time and he hated it. Ever so slightly, she moved away from him in the bed. Subtle, but he noticed it nonetheless.
He stood and walked a few paces from her. Turning to face her, he asked the questions that he had answered in his own mind already in the dark of the night.
“Are we married in truth, Emalie?”
She frowned before answering. “Aye, my lord.”
“Is there any reason why we could not marry as the king directed?”
“None to my knowledge.”
“And we have consummated our vows?”
The blush that spread upward from the fullness of her breasts onto her neck and then up into her cheeks pleased him somehow. “Many times, Christian.”
She chose now to use his name? Memories of those many times flowed over him. She had given herself to him. She was his.
“And did you make any promises to the father of your child?”
Her face lost all its color and her breath hitched as she tried to speak. “What are these questions about, my lord?”
“I simply seek to determine if we are of one mind concerning our vows and our marriage.”
A shaky nod was all the response she gave, then she spoke. “I made no promises.”
He nodded, satisfied that she told the truth. Her words echoed of Durwyn’s in not knowing of any betrothal. If her father had made one, he had done it without her knowledge or his best friend’s. Strange that. Durwyn stood as Emalie’s godfather and guardian in her father’s absence and he felt certain that Gaspar would have told him anything important to his daughter’s care. A betrothal was such a thing.
And betrothals were usually witnessed by as many family and friends as the wedding itself, for the Church and the courts had held that the betrothal could be considered the joining and only a consummation was needed to seal the contract.
Gaspar discussed all aspects of his estates with Emalie. Why would he deliberately not speak of something this significant? It made no sense to him. But, until John took the first step, he was wasting time and strength worrying over this.
“Why did you need to see your priest?” He was curious about that. To his knowledge, Emalie saw the priest only at Mass, and he’d heard comments that she never sought his advice.
She gazed at him with haunted eyes and the tightness in his gut told him that he had gone too far. Mayhap he did really wish to intrude between penitent and confessor. Her hand glided over the bedcovers and when they reached the edge, her fingers entwined in the border of the sheets. ’Twas a nervous reaction of hers that he had seen before.
“I wished it gone.”
“It?” He moved closer, for her voice was now a whisper.
“The child within,” she said as she placed her hands on her rounded belly. “I wished it dead.”
“Oh, Emalie,” he whispered as he sat next to her. John’s evil was spreading. He did not judge her. He simply felt her sorrow and pain.
“When I left the hall, I was tormented with fears over the prince’s visit. The thought came to me that if there was no babe, there would be no threat from him.”
She was crying now, tears streaming where he thought none would be left. He turned and embraced her as she sobbed. He thought her words were done, but she forced herself to say them.
“I was on the stairs when I wished, when I prayed, for the child’s death to save me from whatever John plans.”
“Emalie, this is not your fault. Be at peace.” He rubbed her back as she cried more.
“Do you not understand, Christian? I prayed for a child’s death. An innocent babe. And all so that I would not have to admit to the truth and to my mistakes.”
“You take too much on yourself. You can not be responsible for the destruction that John causes.”
“Another thing you do not understand,” she whispered hoarsely. “Because of my weakness, John ravaged another of my people last night. Because I could not protect her, she will…she will…” She cried too hard to speak now. He held her and wished down the wrath of God on the prince. And he felt not a moment’s remorse or guilt over the torments he prayed for to befall the evil incarnate that was John Plantagenet.
He did not try to argue with her, for he truly feared for both her and the babe if this continued. Chri
stian waited for her tears to end. He felt her growing still in his arms and soon the sobs had subsided. He believed her almost asleep when she spoke again.
“I did not know until I wished it ill that I wanted the child, Christian. All these months I have tried to ignore it and tried not to accept it, but yesterday, as I lay here bleeding, I knew in my heart and in my soul that I love this child. Regardless of its start or the reason it exists, it is mine. Only mine.”
Her use of the words of claiming that he used so frequently struck something within him. For even as he knew how deeply the words meant to him, he knew it meant the same to her about the child. And he recognized in that moment that any fight for Emalie was also a fight for the child. He could no longer ignore the babe, either, if he planned to oppose John’s plan.
Christian leaned forward and let his hand rest on her belly. She did not move away, but he heard her hold her breath. Soon he felt movement under his hand and he sat in amazement as the babe made its presence known to him for the first time. Overwhelmed, he looked at her. A tentative smile lit her face. He bent down and kissed her lips.
“As you are and shall be only mine,” he whispered, sealing her and her child’s fate with his own.
Chapter Twenty
He only managed to keep word of it from her due to her illness. In being restricted to her bed and then her chamber, Christian controlled her visitors and the news they carried to Emalie. Of course, she did not know that. He would not permit anyone else to invade the solace he’d created for her.
The opening sally came in the form of visitors from the Bishop of Lincoln. An entourage of clerics arrived quietly one night just before the gates were to close. ’Twas only the next morning, after they consulted with Father Elwood, that they relayed their mission to him. A complaint had been registered with the bishop and the ecclesiastical court about the validity of his and Emalie’s marriage. No specific details of the case could be shared with him, but these priests were there to ascertain the facts about their union.
Christian almost laughed in their faces, until he realized that this was a matter of life and death. These priests probably had no idea that they were being manipulated by the devil’s own and would most likely be horrified to learn the truth. They only carried out the orders given to them by the bishop, who was currently the prince’s pawn.
They did however need his permission to question any of his people and he granted it. Better to cooperate at this point and discover John’s plan. He arranged to have Luc be his representative to witness all the questioning. If the priests thought this outside the bounds of his rights, they did not protest. He smiled grimly as the priests produced a list of those they would question. He was not surprised.
The only request he refused was theirs to speak to Emalie. He used her recent illness as the excuse, but he would not destroy the sense of security around her that was helping her recuperation. He simply reminded them that as her husband, he spoke for her in all things. They nodded, accepting his rights as a sage practice, for they knew that women lied or did not have the power to think logically as men did. He later thanked God for the self-induced separation in which these priests lived and their lack of exposure to the real world and the women who lived in it.
They questioned servants, soldiers, farmers and villagers—anyone on the list was “invited” to speak with them. Christian did not have them warned in advance and found, as Luc had once told him, they were closemouthed and protective of their lady. To a one, they praised her goodness and gave no other information to their questioners.
Only once, Luc told him later, did one of the priests become tired of the onslaught of praise and demand an answer to an ignored question. The woman, one of the whores of the village, simply looked at the priests and began to sob. Completely exasperated by this womanly display, the priest ordered her to leave. Tempted to laugh, he remembered his own experiences in dealing with Emalie’s people and was grateful that they were on his side this time.
Then, two days and nights after they arrived, they departed.
He did not fool himself into believing this would end it. John was exploring his resistance and would make another offer soon. He was so sure of it that he was at the gate when the next attack came. This one was a frontal assault and not one he could misdirect or assuage with misinformation.
A priest rode with a contingent of soldiers. Once more, they were from the Bishop of Lincoln, but this time they did not ask, they demanded. The papers they carried demanded that he answer the Church’s court regarding his unlawful marriage to the Countess of Harbridge. The papers demanded that he present himself to be questioned at the court and, worse yet, that Emalie be brought before the court to answer for her actions.
The words that struck fear in him were the last two sentences written.
The Most Holy Bishop has, in his wisdom, decided that the Lady Emalie Montgomerie, now called Dumont, should surrender herself into the bishop’s custody in anticipation of the outcome of these proceedings. Representatives of His Grace and escorts from the Convent of Our Blessed Lady here in Lincoln will present themselves at Greystone in three days’ time to carry out this order.
He was sickened at the thought of turning Emalie over into the bishop’s custody, for he knew not if this meant she was safe or if she would be accessible to John and William. The order before him gave him no choice.
The messenger handed him a smaller packet before leaving and Christian peeled off the unremarkable wax seal and opened it. John’s last best offer. As his stomach churned, he read the note, an invitation to go home, honor intact. John promised to placate Richard with whatever explanation was necessary to make this go smoothly. All Christian had to do was give up all claim to the lands, titles, riches and person of the Countess of Harbridge.
Before he could read the accompanying documents, Luc approached the dais.
“She comes now, my lord.”
Christian saw Emalie walking slowly into the hall and toward where he sat. “Take this all away, Luc. She can not know of this yet.” He gathered the parchments together, rolled them as necessary and handed everything to Luc.
He stood, reached into his pocket and handed Luc a key. “Put this in Emalie’s herbal room. She is not well enough to work there yet. And lock it with this.”
Luc efficiently took everything from him and left before Emalie was halfway through the hall. Her progress to him, slowed by well-wishers, was pleasing. Her health was returning and there had been no additional episodes of bleeding or labor pains. He knew that the risk to her, when she discovered what he hid, was great. He needed to find a way to explain the situation to her without alarming her.
“Who were the messages from?” she asked as he helped her up to the table. She sat down and Alyce placed a blanket over her legs.
“Messages?”
“From our chambers I saw the riders enter, but they left too quickly.”
Not a moment too soon by his score. He smiled at her, feeling the weight of every lie he spoke. “Nothing to be concerned with, Emalie. Nothing to distract you from your first meal in the hall with us.”
She looked around at the table and nodded to each person. He could read the enjoyment on her face and wanted it to last forever. He would give anything to make it so.
At his signal, the servants began serving the meal. All of her favorites had been prepared and the company was lively with talk and teasing and good food and wine. Soon, too soon, he noticed her tiring and suggested she retire. After arguing but with little fight, Luc escorted Emalie to her room. Christian promised to join her soon.
He went to the herbal to study the documents; he needed to see how John’s man defended his claim. Risking much, he decided to have Father Elwood examine them for his own assessment. Taking the copies of the betrothal contract and Gaspar’s will with him, he sought and found the priest in his room, near the chapel. The minutes of discussion turned into hours and the good father could offer no assistance in disputing Willia
m’s claim. Christian would have continued, but he realized that Emalie would be waiting for him.
He walked back to the herbal to store the papers. Emalie sat at her table, with John’s letter in hand. Opened.
“It would appear that this is not the first offer from John on this matter.” Her voice was flat, shocked most likely at the contents of the letter.
“’Tis not. His first offer was presented in person during his visit.”
“Was it different from this?”
Her quiet demeanor surprised him. She was pale, from the excitement and exercise of the dinner and from this news, but she looked almost calm.
“Emalie, I do not want to upset you with this.”
“There is so little time in which to upset me, my lord. The bishop’s escort will be here in just three days.” She handed him both John’s letter and the bishop’s decree. “How long have you known?” She stared into the lantern on the table and did not meet his gaze.
“Let us go to our chambers. I would feel better discussing this in that privacy and where you will be more comfortable.”
She rose and allowed him to escort her back to their chambers. He brought all the documents. He was not happy that she had discovered it this way, but he would be grateful for her counsel. When they reached it, he closed the door behind them. Then he wasted no time.
“John summoned me even while you lay senseless and ill here the night of his visit. He offered me the chance to take DeSeverin’s place in his arrangements to have you and the wealth of Harbridge.”
“Have me?” she asked.
“Aye. I would be husband and earl here and manage the estates. You would be wife and countess. John would take whatever wealth he desired and he would have you whenever he desired.”
Emalie shuddered so deeply that he ran to her side. He reached for a cup of wine and forced her to sip some.
The Dumont Bride Page 19
