Unbidden (The Evolution Series)

by Jill Hughey

  “You could have sent a message,” David said sulkily.

  “Forgive me, Lord Hermit, but you made it clear you wanted no one to know of your secret hiding place.”

  David pursed his lips. It was true.

  Theo unclasped his cloak, and folded it neatly on the ground, followed by his cap. He removed his tunic. Underneath the fine cloth he already wore his leather brunia. He belted his scabbard onto his hips. His conversion from peacock to warrior was complete when he slid his shield on his arm. “Shall we begin?”

  “I give!” David shouted in exasperation. “What did the emperor want with Rochelle?”

  Theo smiled. “He, too, has heard the rumors. Called her in for a scolding.” At David’s wild expression, Theo quickly added. “She showed great restraint.”

  “She will lose Alda yet.”

  “Not so intent on losing it as she is on giving it up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She told the emperor she wishes to be bound by her betrothal with you. Neatly done, really. Win or lose, your betrothal stands.”

  David could hardly believe his ears. A surge of joy filled him, quickly ruined by the memory of her betrayal. “If I lose, what happens to Alda?”

  “The winner gets Alda. She says she will leave.”

  “What?”

  “She says she will leave Alda if you lose.”

  “She proposed this.”

  “Yes.”

  “She will never leave Alda.” He turned to retrieve his metal spangenhelm.

  “It appears she has chosen you over the estate.”

  “No, she is maneuvering again.” David grasped his shield, annoyed that she had been handed the opportunity to make another flanking move he wouldn’t be able to counter.

  Theo stared at him. “I do not think so, but if you truly believe that you should know that the emperor will release you from the contract if you choose.”

  David’s eyebrows lifted slowly. “Release me? Why?”

  “’No man should be saddled with a devious wife.’ His words, not mine.” He unsheathed his spata. “You would not do that to her.”

  “Would I not?” David asked testily, pulling his own spata out of the scabbard on his hip. Its edges gleamed with polished deadliness.

  Theo paused, cocking his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “If you do not marry her and make her leave her estate, she has lost everything, David. Absolutely everything.”

  David swung his blade round a few times, its familiarity and balance making it an extension of his own arm. “She should have thought of that before she hired Riculf.”

  “You are the fool if you let her go.”

  “I would be a fool to marry a faithless woman I cannot trust.”

  He and Theo began testing blades lightly, the edges sliding across one another with a metallic zing that echoed in the forest.

  “She is not faithless,” Theo argued. “I wish you could see her. She suffers. She sits in my hall, the target of malicious gossip. She does not hide, she does not make excuses. Just sits and waits.”

  The blades sang together with increasing intensity until Theo suddenly abandoned his spata for the longer lance, swinging it in a arc that nearly caught David across his leather covered chest. David backed away, defending, until he reached his own lance, and they picked up their fencing again.

  “Waits for what?” David said impatiently.

  “Waits for you, I think. Will you come to talk to her? Just a few moments to show her –“

  “No! If she suffers it is her own doing.” David jabbed his lance forward wickedly, stopping just where it would have penetrated Theo’s brunia at his abdomen.

  Theo was not deterred. “It is of your doing. She waits for you, from before dawn until late at night. You did not even tell her you no longer sleep at my house, though I finally broke down this morning when she swallowed her pride to ask about you.”

  “Damn you, Theo! If I wanted Rochelle to know where I sleep I would have told her myself.” He stalked away to fetch a skin of water.

  “Oh, forgive me,” Theo countered sarcastically, leaning on the shaft of his lance. “It is fine for me to answer your desperate queries about her every day, but heaven forbid I reveal anything of your activities to her!”

  David wiped a dribble of water from his chin with the back of his hand.

  “If her affection does not sway you, there is another reason you should marry her.”

  “What is that?” David asked flatly.

  “Your betrothed is an excellent person of business. I will never admit that in public as she is, indeed, a woman, but I have no compunction about telling you since you could soon be benefiting from her acumen.”

  David grunted.

  “Even now, as we speak, she is making money in Ribeauville.”

  “How can she be a person of business in a town 13 leagues from her home? She came with only a few clothes and a dagger, and according to you is pining away in your hall.”

  “Brought the business to her, clever girl.”

  Theo’s smiling praise did nothing to help David’s mood. Any man’s special notice of Rochelle blackened David’s day, but knowing of Theo’s prior interest in her made his words rankle all the more.

  “Would you explain yourself?”

  “Apparently when Doeg arrived at Alda to bring Rochelle here, he described the rather carnival-like atmosphere beginning to develop in town. Rochelle recognized an opportunity. Told her manager to inform the tenants that good trade might be available in Ribeauville. A small group of them arrived last evening, their little carts loaded with goods to sell or trade. They came to my house to let her know they had journeyed safely. She went outside to praise them for their speed and industriousness. She can do no wrong in their eyes.”

  “Hmph.”

  “But that is not the best part.”

  “There is more?” David asked dryly.

  “Rochelle had her manager send a few casks of new wine. Think she would sell them to an inn or one of the food vendors? No, she is selling it on the street, by the cup! Imagine the profit in that!”

  “Fire and smoke! Are you telling me my future wife — possible future wife — is selling wine in public?”

  “Not her personally. That boy from the estate, Samuel I think is his name, is selling it for her.” Theo’s smile faded. “Rochelle herself does not leave my home.”

  “Nor should she. It sounds as if your town has become Sodom,” David said darkly.

  “It is not that bad. And you should not make light of her vigil, David.”

  “It does not sound like much of a vigil.”

  “You do not know anything about it. In any case, she wishes me to tell you something.”

  “Are we going to train at all today?”

  Theo narrowed his hazel eyes. “Very well then, I will not bother you with her message.” He sheathed the lance on his back and pulled out his semi-spata.

  David did likewise and they swayed in front of each other for moment, before David finally straightened. “Just tell me so I can put it out of my mind.”

  His friend stood up to meet his eyes seriously. “She is sorry.”

  David spat in the dirt.

  “And she asks that, no matter what you decide, you give her a chance to speak with you.”

  “About what?”

  “The weather,” Theo answered, his patience at an end. “Honestly, man, you are as thick as the leather on that brunia you are wearing.”

  “The last thing I need is to talk to her.”

  “Yes, anyone can see how dangerous words could be to a well-armored figure such as you.”

  David wiped the sweat from his brow. “You know the danger of wrong thoughts, Theo. Despite dressing like a milksop, you are a warrior, just as I am.” David poked his forefinger into his own temple. “You know preparation of the mind is just as important as the training we are doing here. Riculf and The Black are not here to lose. I can beat them both, Theo.
I know I can! But not if I am distracted by a country girl’s betrayal or my own lust, or even softer feelings for her.”

  Theo scratched the top of his head. “You do still care for her?”

  “God’s teeth, man!” David erupted. “Have you not heard one word I just said? I do not wish to speak of it, or even think about it.”

  “I heard, I heard. It is just that she suffers cruelly. She is not eating and can hardly be sleeping. Even just a message I could carry back to her would be – oof!” David’s fist connected with Theo’s stomach.

  “I have no message to send right now. Rochelle is exactly where she should be: safe in your house. I am exactly where I should be: training for a tournament I have to win. What happens to her if I lose, Theo? Do you think Riculf or The Black will show the patience or restraint I have? Are you certain Louis will be able to prevent a marriage to one of them? My best service to her is to win so there is no question of who has the rights to Alda and her. I must win!” David’s last word came as a shout. Both horses’ heads came up, looking earnestly for signs of danger.

  Theo studied David for a moment, then stepped forward to clap him on the shoulder, all impatience gone. “You are right, of course. Victory is necessary. Losing Alda will crush her, though I think she frets more about losing you. Just do not let your anger take root too deeply, my friend.” He took a deep breath then punched David in the stomach in return. “So, we train!” he shouted, and the fight was on.

  Despite his determination to avoid distractions of the heart, David couldn’t stop his wandering mind that evening as he stood by his conical tent wiping his tired body with a wet cloth. He welcomed the approaching chill of evening against his nakedness. An autumn mist had begun to settle in the clearing, colored slightly pink by the setting sun. Tomorrow would be a day of rest and preparation. He would sharpen his weapons, polish his shield, and repair his armor as needed.

  Tonight, though, he would consider everything Theo had said to him, and try to meld it with what he knew of Rochelle. He had suppressed thoughts of her for three days and nights. Theo’s description of her meeting with Louis broke through every hardened barrier he’d raised.

  She’d asked for their betrothal to stand. Win or lose. With or without Alda.

  It was astonishing. There was no other word for the request. It might also be humbling if he could get past doubting her sincerity, and the humiliatingly public knowledge of her betrayal.

  The combination of incredulity and embarrassment were almost enough to make him want to see her. But his caution hadn’t completely dissolved. Since the day he’d met her in Aix, she’d been angling to avoid marriage. Her mind never stopped working, that much he knew, and he suspected she had another plan, though he couldn’t decipher it.

  She’d placed herself in a supremely vulnerable position today. According to Theo, she’d done it in order to preserve their betrothal. He’d considered it from every angle. No matter how he looked at it, her future rested in his hands. Win or lose.

  He stirred up the fire against the cold night air as he carefully sorted through his memories of Rochelle expressing affection or regret. Just two days after she’d sent Gilbert to find Riculf, she’d said “I have done a foolish thing, David.” Rochelle sinking to the ground when he’d said Riculf’s name. Her desperation at the river on his last afternoon at Alda. And the night of Marta’s labor. “You have burdens of your own, tasks set before you by those you should be able to trust.”

  “What if I hurt you, or disappoint you?” she had questioned, knowing she’d already done just that.

  “Then I would have to forgive you, if you asked.” He had said the words easily, never dreaming how pertinent the inquiry had been.

  “I do not deserve you,” she’d replied.

  Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t. If he forced himself to let go of his resentment, he knew that she honestly regretted her decision to hire Riculf. She’d named the new gelding Regret, and if that wasn’t heartfelt contrition he didn’t know what was.

  The real crux of the matter was whether he could trust her in the future. If he wed Rochelle, he wanted their marriage to realize the potential he foresaw. He wanted to know that expressions of love were motivated by emotion, not manipulation. He wanted a wife who would stand at his shoulder, loyal and firm, no matter what.

  Smoke swirled into the mist, one immediately indiscernible from the other. Ash and vapor floating into the darkness, impossible to grasp, disappearing into the night. He knew the two different particles were there. Could treachery and trust coexist as easily?

  Perhaps some questions could not be answered, or some answers could not be known so much as felt.

  He rolled away from the fire, still undecided. After the tournament he would talk to her. After the tournament he would decide.

  The ground was hard and cold. He wished for a real bed and a good meal. He would return to Theo’s home late tomorrow. The house was closer to the tournament field, and sleep in a warm bed would be good for his body. He was ready for the battle ahead and ready for this contest to be over. Other decisions would come after.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rochelle sat by the fire in Theo’s hall Thursday night, alone except for her mother. The unwilling Damsels had been herded to bed at least an hour before by their chaperones and mothers. Even Theo had retired, obviously exhausted from his dual responsibilities as lord of the town and David’s training partner. Before leaving her and Marian for the night, Theo had offered her the first ray of hope since Sunday.

  “If I were David,” he had said quietly before parting with them, “I would want to spend tonight in town, in a warm bed. Not that I know anything in particular, mind you. Pure speculation.”

  Rochelle resolved to sit here all night if necessary. It was important to her to speak with David before the tournament. While it might be too late to mend her relationship with him, she would at least have him know, before he had won or lost Alda, how she really felt, that her regrets began and ended with him and were not tied to his control of the only home she’d ever known.

  Marian broke the silence. “I know what ye did and it is a piss-poor way to start a marriage.”

  Rochelle blinked at her for a minute. Her mother had been a silent pillar next to her for the entire week, neither prying nor defending, just there. Rochelle had been thankful for her detached support, but a few words of comfort would have been welcome. Comfort did not appear to be foremost in Marian’s mind.

  “Did Gilbert tell you, or have you learned it through the rumors like everyone else?”

  “Of course Gilbert told me, that very morning. He has worked for me longer than ye, girlie.”

  “And you let him go?”

  Marian stared at her, exasperated. “I wanted to summon a priest for ye the day David first came to Alda, but ye said ‘Nay’. Theo and I cooked up a plan to save him from this foul tournament, and yer response was a mite more than insulting. Ye seem dead set on plowing your life right into the depths, and every time I guide ye, ye just till it harder.”

  Rochelle felt tears prick behind her eyes. “I know, Mother.” Desperate for any manner of comfort, she knelt in front of the chair, putting her head in her mother’s lap. “I was stupid and childish. I lashed out in anger because of something I heard him say and I hate myself for it. For the first time in my life, I have made a mistake I cannot fix, or at least make amends for.”

  Marian brushed short fingers over Rochelle’s cheek. “If ye are honest with him, perhaps ye can begin again.”

  “I have been trying to tell him, almost since the day I sent Gilbert away. At first I lacked courage, and then, when Riculf arrived, I guess he figured it out himself. Now he will not listen to me. He refuses to even be in the same town with me.” She sighed. “What if he will not forgive me? What if he does not want me any more?”

  “I doubt ye need worry on that. Time can heal many things, even betrayal. And I think he will want to forgive ye.”

&nbs
p; “I do not think I deserve him any more.”

  “Theo says ye were very brave with the emperor. Do not now set yerself down too low. Ye made a mistake, but ye are still a good girl and worthy of him. Do not forget that.”

  Rochelle could only nod against her mother’s legs, overwhelmed by the unexpected words of kindness after weeks of lonely self-recrimination and days of blatant derision by everyone except Theo. Mother and daughter sat for a long time in silence, Rochelle’s mind reviewing for the millionth time exactly what she would say to David if she ever got the chance.

  She knew when Magnus lifted his head to give a tiny yip that David had come. She rose shakily from the floor, her well-rehearsed side of the conversation gone from her head, replaced by a nervous buzzing. She turned to see him filling the kitchen doorway, broad and forbidding in the feeble light of the hall. Marian gave her hand an encouraging squeeze before she trundled up the stairs to the sleeping chamber.

  His dark eyes were shadowed, the line of his lips impassive. He scratched Magnus’s head absently. In spite of his relaxed demeanor, something unholy radiated off of him, and, if possible, he appeared physically bigger than he’d been just a few days ago. The conversation she must have with him suddenly felt like the most daunting task she’d ever assigned herself, but she knew she could not back away from him. Not now.

  Unfortunately, her voice failed her, so she indicated a chair with her hand.

  His eyes narrowed at her peremptory gesture.

  She dropped her hand and swallowed the lump in her throat before walking to him, the scuffing of her feet echoing in the hall. He stared down at her with no particular acknowledgement. His brown eyes betrayed neither fondness nor anger, or even interest.

  “I wish to speak to you,” she pleaded. “It can be in this doorway or in those chairs or at the kitchen table or in the stable or anywhere you choose. I have been waiting in this hall for five days to talk to you and I will do so or I will run mad. Tonight.” Her voice quaked with pent up emotion by the end. She did not even try to hide the quivering of her bottom lip.