“What words, Emalie? What did he say?”
“Forgive me.”
The room was quiet as they both pondered what she had shared. She had not remembered William’s words until just then.
“As I said, William was different than before. He was driven. He was unrelenting in his quest for my hand, as though John had some power over him. If he seemed to stumble in his efforts, a word or two from John pushed him forward.”
“Everyone has their price, Emalie. Perhaps John had discovered William’s and paid it?” He paused and then asked another question. “Did they leave then?”
“I do not know. The next thing I remember is Alyce shaking me awake and discovering the bloody sheet beneath me.”
He drank all his wine in one gulp and put the cup down on the table next to his bed. Christian looked unnerved by her words. She knew that memories of that night haunted her still.
“They stayed away until Eleanor arrived, and then William claimed carnal knowledge of me and offered to wed me.”
“He said nothing of the betrothal contract that he presents now?”
“Nothing. He confessed that his desire for me overtook his senses and that he regretted his rash actions and was willing to marry me since I was now dishonored. Eleanor was not impressed and threw them both out while she investigated for herself.”
“I feel certain that your people were as closemouthed about you then as they are now.”
She smiled as she thought of the bravery demonstrated on her behalf in the face of John’s rage. It was not something pretty to behold then, but now she could appreciate what they had done.
“No one betrayed me. No one could remember seeing or hearing John and William within the keep or in the village the night they claimed to be here. No bloody sheets could be produced. And Eleanor drew the line at having me subjected to a physician’s or midwife’s exam as John demanded. When I did not cry out about being wronged, there was no way to prove their claim.”
Emalie made her way back to the chair and sat down. “Richard was released and came to England briefly before going on to Aquitaine and Anjou. I think Eleanor spoke to him then, for she believed that only a quick marriage could save me and my people, if their plan was to be a success. You arrived here but a few weeks later.” She looked up at him and smiled sadly. “You know the rest.”
Before he could speak, she added what she had most wanted and most feared telling him. Her lack of disclosure had forced him into the position he was in now and she would not allow him to make this decision without knowing her truth.
“I know that your actions were for other reasons, but I think I began to fall in love with you when you asked me to sit court with you. I knew I was in love with you when you took me to Lemsley for Fayth’s wedding and wooed me with your words and touches.” She stood and walked to the door that now separated their rooms. “And I will love you always because of the honorable man you are, Christian. No matter what turns our lives take after this day, my heart will be only yours.”
She left without another word and her spirit felt lighter somehow for the confession she’d made to him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He drank himself into a stupor that lasted two days after hearing her truth. He had asked her to speak it, but, fool that he was, he had no idea it would strike so hard at the very core of his soul. And his inability to support her in her time of need ate at his gut. Wine made it all go away.
Now she was gone.
Christian had made her traveling arrangements himself, although she would not know it. He assigned Sir Walter to accompany her to the convent and to stay there until the proceedings began. He gave no promise to attend and the unanswered questions in the man’s gaze as he was given his instructions bothered him.
He had no answers for any of them. He drowned any semblance of rational thought until she was gone and then continued drinking to erase the almost unimaginable pain. So torturous was it, he could not even bear to examine the reasons for it too closely. He withdrew into his chambers and let spirits soothe him for now. He did not eat. He did not sleep. Christian simply existed.
Ignoring most of them was easy. Geoffrey’s pleas could be blocked. Fitzhugh’s questions were unnecessary, since the man could make his own decisions. Luc was the worst one. He said nothing. He stood in the doorway and stared at him as though he were a stranger. Staying in his room, he avoided the rest of them.
Then, on the third or mayhap fourth morning after her departure, Luc brought word that Emalie had arrived safely and was now within the convent walls. They must have watered the wine they brought him, for questions began to insidiously make their way into his thoughts.
Had the journey been comfortable? Could she tolerate the rolling of the wagon on this trip? Did they treat her with the respect due her position as the Countess of Harbridge or was she treated as all penitent women within their walls? Did they allow her to walk in the wind as she needed to when worrying?
Christian stood in the place where she always looked out over Greystone before he even knew that he had left his chambers. He ignored the winds and the rains that poured over him as he stood by the wall. He turned his face into the worst of it and allowed the forces of nature to rage around him as he raged inside.
He wanted her back. He wanted her as his wife.
He would fight for her.
But could he? Christian lifted his face to the sky and roared out his pain and frustration at not being able to understand the feelings that tormented him. The winds that usually calmed him did not do so this night. Instead, he felt more out of control than ever before.
In that prison cell many months before, he had prayed to the Almighty for an escape. He had begged for any way out of his dishonor. He had pleaded for a way to save his life and his brother’s. And the result was this bargain with the devil, which now threatened him and Geoffrey yet more. And now another was involved and in danger of losing life and soul to the evil that surrounded them.
Still, doubts assailed him in his weakened state, while the storm pounded him. What kind of man would claim a woman who was someone else’s promised wife and who carried someone else’s child within her? Where was the honor in that?
A man who loved a woman would.
A man who loved his wife would do anything to protect her.
A man who loved his wife would go to any efforts to keep her as his own.
Christian reeled and fell back against the slippery wall. It was difficult to breathe and even harder to accept what he thought he was discovering. He pushed his hair out of his face and drew in a ragged breath.
Only mine. He said the words as he claimed her body and her soul as his own without ever realizing that he was giving his own in return.
Only mine. He never knew that he was not only claiming her and marking her as he said the words, he was pledging himself to her in the same moment.
Only mine. She was and would be again.
In that moment, Christian realized the pain he suffered was not caused by the love he had for Emalie. It was caused by his refusal to recognize and accept it. Now, as he accepted the burden this love placed on him, all was clear.
He would find a way to reclaim her. Or he would make one. He would try to serve his honor, but Emalie was the most important person in his life and he would do whatever it took to bring her home.
The frigid rain penetrated the many layers of clothing he wore and he shivered as the icy cold reached his skin. He turned to leave, for he had arrangements to make and plans to discuss. He needed to examine his enemies’ plan and determine his own strategy. He, too, knew the value of distract, disarm and destroy. And he would show his enemies, their enemies, that the Earl of Harbridge would fight for what was his.
With a final battle cry that echoed over the battlements and into the night, Christian felt the exhilaration of a coming battle.
Not content to wait for the dawn, he summoned servants and Fitzhugh to his chambers and made his wishes k
nown. Sensing his urgency, they complied without question, but with many glances shared between them. Dressed once more as earl and knowing what he wanted, he assembled his most trusted retainers, and Emalie’s, in the solar and went to work.
With the clerk intensely copying down his instructions, he prepared many messages to those who he knew could help their cause. In a few cases, he chose to give the message directly to one of his men, not trusting the words to parchment. Servants and soldiers were dispatched with coin to Lincoln to make ready accommodations for the earl and his party.
Since possession in some cases guaranteed success, Christian sought to reinforce the defenses of Greystone against attack or siege. Calling up more knights from among his vassals, he informed them of the claims made against him and the countess and that DeSeverin would have to take the keep by force if he wanted it.
Le Comte de Langier and Earl of Harbridge would not acquiesce. Buoyed by their support and knowing that John rarely attacked where he could be seen, he readied himself for the bigger battle by studying the documents and learning more about his wife’s father and the old earl’s precipitous and well-timed death.
A week and a day after Emalie’s departure from Greystone, Christian and his party left for Lincoln.
It took less than an hour to reach the convent on the outskirts of Lincoln from the lodgings chosen for him by Walter. Although many settlements of that type were built next to or near the cathedral or church of the town, this one was farther into the countryside. It had many fields and much farmland that provided food for the community and crops for bartering and selling to supply the convent’s other needs.
He rode alone, save Luc, who insisted on accompanying him. As Luc said, a lone man attacked in the night would bring no notice and could conveniently, for some, settle the question before the bishop’s court. Accepting his friend’s wisdom, they rode together.
He was not certain if he would be able to speak to Emalie, but he needed to talk with her before the proceedings began on the morrow. She had the right to know what they were up against. He had spent days discussing and arguing and always searching for something they could use to win. So far, although his intent was strong, their case was not. Even the clerics assigned by the bishop to him for the proceedings could give him no hope since the betrothal contract stood as clear proof.
He also wanted to make certain that Emalie knew of his love for her. The last time they had spoken, he had been shocked by her proclamation and could not think of what to say. Of course, he had not realized the depth of his own feelings then.
’Twas full dark when they arrived and, as expected, the gates were closed against the night and visitors. After much loud knocking and then banging, a man answered their calls through a small window in the gate and firmly told them to return in the morning. Arguing did nothing to convince the gatekeeper to bring the reverend mother forward, so Christian used simple greed to accomplish what words could not. After some coins exchanged hands, with the promise of more to come, the man shuffled off to the main building.
A few minutes later, a group of nuns opened the gates and guided him and Luc inside to the office of the reverend mother. She was an old woman, with hands gnarled by many years of hard work, but her face was lit with the glow of inner kindness. Christian hoped she would allow him to speak to Emalie.
“Sit, my lord,” she said as they entered the large room. “I would offer you refreshments, but the hour is late and the kitchens are closed.”
He sat before her and Luc stood at his back.
“The countess is…?” He needed to know how she fared here.
“Well, my lord. She was given into our care and we take that assignment by the bishop very seriously. The lady has spent most of her time here resting or in prayer.”
“She has been ill,” he explained. His words would not come smoothly. Worry over her was wreaking havoc within him and with his intention to be calm.
“Her maid explained the lady’s difficulties and our healer has seen to her needs.”
“I would see her now, Reverend Mother.”
“I fear that all inside these walls have retired for the night.” She stood as though to dismiss him. “Come again in the morning and we will talk.”
He stood as well, rising to his full height. “I would see her now.” Luc whispered words of warning behind him.
“Do you seek to intimidate me, my lord? Here, in God’s house?”
“Aye, Reverend Mother. If that’s what I must do to see my wife, then so be it.”
She smiled at him without guile as though she enjoyed this exchange of threats. “Many others, men both larger and more powerful than you, have challenged me and left without success.”
He let out his breath. He would have to take another tack.
“Reverend Mother, please allow me to speak to Emalie.”
“Now you try pleading when threats do not work?”
“I will try whatever is necessary to see her,” he admitted. “I must speak to her.”
“You will see her on the morrow, my lord. Can your words not wait until then?”
“Nay, Reverend Mother. She needs to hear my words this night. She needs to know the mistakes I have made. She needs to know—”
“Of your love?” She smiled as he stared at her. “Aye, my lord, I can hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes.” She sat back down behind the table and rang a small bell that rested on the corner of it. The door opened a minute later and a younger nun entered.
“Please tell Lady Emalie that she has another visitor, if she would care to join us here.”
“I will go to her, Reverend Mother.”
“Nay, my lord. You will stay here. Men are not permitted in our other buildings.” She nodded at the other woman, who left without a word.
“Another visitor, Reverend Mother?” Luc asked from behind him.
“Aye, sir knight. The countess would not meet him. Sir William was much put out by her refusal.”
He looked at Luc. Both of them were wondering the same thing—what brought William here? What did he want to tell Emalie? He had gathered much information about DeSeverin in the past week and now felt as though he knew his opponent better. Not the one in charge, but more the weapon of those who planned his destruction.
They sat in silence as they waited for Emalie. Looking around the room, Christian’s gaze was caught by the many costly books that the reverend mother kept on large shelves.
“The late Earl of Harbridge was most generous to us, my lord. He gifted us with many of the volumes you see there.”
“Emalie’s father?”
“Aye, my lord. We are nearly neighbors, you know. Part of the convent’s lands extend northeast and almost to your lower borders.” She paused and looked past him. “Ah, here she is, my lord. My lady, come in.”
Christian stood and turned to see her. Standing in the doorway, with her cloak still around her, he could see only her face. Her eyes were haunted once more and he knew he had caused it. He could not break from her gaze, even as the reverend mother left the room. He thought that Luc exchanged greetings with Emalie on his way out, but all he saw, all he heard was her. And then they were alone.
Emalie had thought herself prepared to see him, but she was not. Although he eschewed the wearing of fine garments during their days at Greystone, he was dressed now in every way as the nobleman he was. His finest shirt, his embossed long tunic, his newly tanned leather belt and the thick gold chains he wore around his neck all proclaimed his title and wealth.
At this moment, she did not know which was worse—finding him gone when the proceedings began on the morrow, or his appearance here now to tell of his leaving. When he sent no word to her after they spoke, and when he did not greet the escort sent to bring her here, she knew of his decision. He would leave, return to Poitou and his lands there and avoid this fight.
Her legs weakened and shook. He must have seen her shake, for he held her up and guided her to the chair wher
e he had been sitting. Arranging the long folds of her cloak over her legs, she untied the hood and let it drop to her shoulders.
She could not say a word to him. Where could she begin? It is so good of you, my lord, to see me on your way home. My lord, how nice of you to tell me of your leaving. Now I will not have to wonder through the night.
He crouched down next to the chair and waited until she met his gaze. “How do you fare, my lady?” His voice shook as he spoke.
“I am well, my lord. The sisters here take good care of me. I have adequate food and drink, my lodgings are modest but comfortable, and I have the company of kind women.” And my heart is broken and my spirit is crushed, she thought.
“The babe within?” He raised his hand as though to touch her belly then drew it back.
“I have had no more bleeding or pains, my lord. Thank you for asking.”
If she could get through this polite conversation, she could make it back to her room before the grief of his disavowal hit her. She had tried to prepare for the hurt she knew she would feel, but she was not ready for the all-encompassing despair she felt creeping into her soul.
“Emalie, I have thought on your words since you left.” He paused and stood, walking several steps away from her.
She clutched her hands together tightly as she fought to hold on to her control. Hearing his explanation would destroy her, and the urge grew inside to simply flee the room and not hear it. But she was a Montgomerie, born and raised to the duties she carried, and she would not run.
“I told you of my battle to regain my honor.”
“I am familiar with the burdens and rewards of honor, my lord. I have grown up with nothing else.”
“The true question I faced was what man of honor could claim another man’s promised wife and the child she bears. When the haze of too much wine finally cleared, I realized the answer.”
The Dumont Bride Page 21
