La Flamme (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Garreth greeted her as he dismounted. "Good morning to you, Sabine. Your mother told me that I'd find you here."

  She pulled her gown down, hoping to hide her bare feet. "Your Grace, I had no notion that you would be calling on us today."

  "Perhaps I should not have come unannounced?"

  Sabine met his eyes, determined that he was not going to make her feel insignificant. She was still angry because of his mistress's visit. "Perhaps, next time you will give us some forewarning so we can prepare a fitting welcome."

  His lips twitched in amusement. "I stand rebuked, and you are right, of course. My only excuse is that I joined Sir dander's hunting party, and since he's your neighbor, I took the opportunity to pay you a visit."

  Garreth turned to the gentleman beside him. "I do not believe you have met Sir Stephen Meredith, although he did attend our wedding."

  Stephen bowed gallantly to her. "Your Grace, I searched for you after the wedding so that I might be presented to you, but you had already retired. I am glad for the honor of meeting you today."

  She remembered well the conversation she had overheard between Sir Stephen and the other gentlemen the day of her wedding. He had been the only one loyal to Garreth, and he had also attempted to defend her. There was genuine warmth in her voice when she greeted him. "I am glad to know you, Sir Stephen."

  "I am your servant," he replied, flashing a most infectious smile. It would be hard not to be charmed by him and she liked him at once.

  Reluctantly, Sabine turned her attention to her husband. He wore dark green tight-fitting breeches, a matching doublet, and black-cuffed boots that came halfway up his thighs. She noticed the way his black hair lay against his shoulder. He was even more handsome than she remembered.

  When Garreth's gaze swept across her face, Sabine was mortified by the blush that tinted her cheeks. If only she could think of something clever to say to him.

  He stared transfixed at his family ring circling her finger. His mother had taken it off the day his father died and placed it in his hand, knowing he would do as his father had wished and marry where the king commanded.

  "My mother sends her regards and thanks you for your letters," Garreth said awkwardly.

  "Her grace has been most kind. I await the day we meet."

  Sabine became distressed when Garreth noticed her bare feet, and she cringed at the half smile that curved his lips. How childish she must seem to him compared to the beautiful Lady Meredith. She felt unattractive under the probing gaze of this sophisticated man.

  Garreth sensed Sabine's discomfort and attempted to lighten the conversation. "How are you faring?" he asked. "How do you fill your days?"

  "Mostly I take care of my brother, Richard. And I'm very well, thank you, Your Grace. I trust you are also well?"

  "Indeed I am." He was silent for a long moment, not knowing what else to say to her. Finally, he suggested that they walk toward the castle.

  With a resigned sigh, Sabine dropped her slippers on the grass with the intention of pushing her feet into them. But before the deed was accomplished, Garreth knelt to assist her, which only made her feel even more humiliated. She was grateful that Sir Stephen had tactfully turned away and appeared to be absorbed in examining something in the branches of an oak tree.

  When Sabine's slippers were firmly in place, Garreth stood, towering over her. He had almost forgotten how young she was. He certainly didn't remember her having such spirit. At their first meeting she had been a frightened child. Now there was a spark of life and a hint of defiance in her strangely beautiful amber eyes.

  When he offered her his arm, she hesitated for only a moment before she placed her hand on it. As they followed the stonewall, Stephen gallantly walked behind them, leading the horses.

  The air smelled of wood smoke, crisp and clean. In the distance they could hear the cowbells tinkling as her father's herd was driven in from the meadow for milking. When they proceeded down a worn tree-lined path, a shower of multicolored leaves fell about them, a sign that autumn had arrived.

  "Your mother was just telling me some of your accomplishments," Garreth said. "Lady Woodbridge is quite proud of the fact that you speak French as easily as you speak English."

  "That is not such an accomplishment when you consider that my mother is French and taught me from early childhood."

  There was sharpness in Sabine's tone, and Garreth wondered at the reason for it. He stopped, holding her away from him and inspecting her closely. She was a slender child, and there was a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The most remarkable thing about her was her extraordinary topaz eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt. In truth, she hadn't crossed his mind until Stephen reminded him that the Woodbridge estate bordered Sir Clander's land.

  Garreth was staring at her so intently that she looked away. "You haven't had much dealing with children, have you, Your Grace?"

  He looked stunned. "I... no, I haven't. Do you consider yourself a child?"

  "It matters but little what I consider myself because you think of me as a child. But I shan't be young forever." She frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, I am considered by most to be a young lady now that I am your .. . your . .. wife."

  "I see."

  Sabine could tell that he was uncomfortable with her. She gazed out at the pastureland without seeing it. "If it had been within my power, I would not have married you, Your Grace. But no one asked me what I wanted." She turned back to him. "I was told that if I didn't marry you our families might one day be on opposing sides in a conflict."

  He stared at her in amazement. "I cannot imagine being your adversary, Sabine. Like you, I had little to say in the matter of our marriage. Perhaps, in time, when we come to know each other, we will deal admirably together."

  She wanted to ask him about Lady Meredith, but she knew that would not be proper. "If you were free to marry where you chose, who would now be your wife?" she asked instead.

  He laughed, knowing better than to step into that old female trap. With a courtly manner he bowed before her. "Perhaps I would still have chosen you."

  She didn't think he would, but it was gallant of him to say so.

  "Regrettably," Garreth went on, "I must leave for London at once. But first I would ask a boon of you."

  "I will grant you what I can."

  "Since I am your legal husband, could you not call me Garreth?"

  "Yes, if that is your wish, Garreth."

  "Much better." He turned to look at the imposing castle that appeared to be rising out of the mist. "It's lovely here. I am sure you will miss it when you leave."

  "Yes, I shall. I am extremely close to my family. My mother does not often feel well, and my brother is so spirited that he quickly tires her, so I spend most of my day with him."

  "That's very admirable of you. Was your childhood a happy one?"

  "Exceedingly happy." Mischief danced in her eyes. "It still is."

  Garreth laughed heartily. Taking her small hand in his, he stared once more at the Balmarough ring. "Now, lady wife, I fear I must leave you."

  To her surprise, she felt a sharp pang of disappointment. "The day grows late. I suppose you must hurry or you will lose the light. Unless," she added hopefully, "you and Sir Stephen would like to bide the night with my family."

  "I fear that we cannot. By morning we'll be halfway to London."

  She wondered if he was rushing to see Lady Meredith.

  Garreth had been watching Sabine out of the corner of his eye. There was pain etched on her face with each step she took, though she tried to hide it. He had the strongest urge to lift her in his arms and carry her so that he might ease her suffering, but he knew she would not welcome his assistance.

  "Your leg troubles you, Sabine?"

  "Tis of little consequence."

  Garreth had discovered two things about his wife today: She didn't complain, and she was no one's fool.

  "I wonder if you would allow me to send the king's physician to exa
mine you? William Harvey is of some renown. It was he who first discovered that blood circulates through the whole body. I daresay that he can help you."

  "It would not be wise to bring the king's physician to Woodbridge," Sabine said hurriedly. "Papa would never welcome him. Even if he did agree to our marriage, he still distrusts his majesty, and 1 don't believe he trusts you either."

  "Do you trust me, Sabine?"

  She considered his question seriously, and thought of his mistress. "I don't know you very well."

  Her honesty was refreshing, and he realized it sprang from her youth. Unfortunately, as she grew older she would learn to hide her feelings and dance around the truth. "Perhaps William Harvey can examine your leg when you move to Wolfeton Keep. Tis a pity to wait so long, though."

  By now they had reached the castle and Stephen joined them.

  "I have brought you a surprise, Sabine," Garreth said. "You will find it in your room. I hope it pleases you."

  Her eyes were shining. "I am fond of surprises, Your Grace—Garreth. What is it?"

  "Uh ... if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" He softly touched her cheek and her eyes widened at his gentleness. "My mother is often lonely. It will be most pleasant for her when you move to Wolfeton Keep so you can be a companion to her."

  Sabine quickly looked up at him, wondering if he had intended to insult her by suggesting he only wanted her as a companion to his mother. There was controlled anger in her words. "It is always important to meet with the approval of one's mother-in-law."

  Garreth looked bewildered, trying to think what he had said to displease her. "You have no cause for worry. I believe my mother will be enchanted with you." He raised her hand to his lips. "Farewell, until we meet again." Then he pushed his booted foot into the stirrup and mounted his horse.

  Stephen bowed to her. "I hope to see you again soon. Your Grace."

  "I would like that, Sir Stephen. You will always find a welcome at Woodbridge."

  She watched them ride away, wondering why she suddenly felt lonely. With a deep intake of breath, she moved up the steps, pausing often to rest her aching leg.

  When she reached her bedchamber, she found that a neatly folded length of red velvet lay across her bed. Eagerly, she lifted the fabric and gasped. It was a floor-length cape, completely lined with ermine. Sabine flung it around her shoulders and moved before a mirror. She buried her face in the silky fur that almost felt alive as it softly caressed her skin. She had never possessed anything half so fine. She picked up the note that had fallen to the floor and read the bold script.

  For my duchess. Let this serve as a twofold gift—to keep you warm and remind you of me.

  How kind of Garreth to think of her, she thought. It was a gift she would treasure always.

  She had no way of knowing that the words she cherished had not been written by her husband, nor had he chosen the gift.

  Garreth and Stephen had been riding for over an hour when they reached the Duck and Fox Inn.

  "My throat's dry. I could use a tankard of ale," Stephen said.

  "Very well," Garreth agreed. "I could use one myself. It was damned hard talking to Sabine today. What do you say to one so young?"

  Stephen laughed. "The first time you've met a female who didn't swoon at your feet and she's your wife. Could this mean that you're losing your way with the ladies?"

  Garreth scowled as he dismounted and handed his reins to an attendant. "I find nothing humorous in the situation. Sabine is too young to be a wife. Most probably she still plays with toys. Besides, she liked you better than me."

  Stephen laughed. "I don't think so, Garreth."

  They entered the inn and found a table near the hearth. After the landlord had served them, Garreth took a sip of his ale and leaned back thoughtfully. "She has spirit—the kind I would wish for in a little sister, if I had one. I don't know that it's a quality I want in a wife, however." He looked at his friend inquiringly. "What is your impression of her?"

  Stephen hid a smile behind his tankard. Garreth was more taken with his new bride than he wanted to admit. "I believe that she is the loveliest little girl I have ever seen. I could look into those golden eyes for hours."

  "She's in pain," Garreth said in a troubled voice.

  "I saw that. 'Tis a pity."

  Garreth slammed his tankard down so forcefully that ale splashed onto the table. "Damn the forces that control my life! Sabine is too young to even understand what goes on between a man and woman. When a beautiful lady catches my eye, I feel damn guilty for what I am imagining. Being a husband does not set well with me."

  Stephen leaned against the high-back bench, unconcerned by Garreth's outburst. "Whatever troubles you, I'm sure you'll overcome it." He took a sip of ale. "I noticed you were struggling to make conversation with Sabine today. Why don't you just treat her the way you would any other woman?"

  "She's not a woman. I can't imagine ever . . . well, you know what I mean. I will never be able to be a husband to her because I'll always see her as a child."

  "I saw something in her eyes today that you obviously missed. She likes you, and I'd say more as a woman than a child."

  "Damn!"

  Humor danced in Stephen's eyes. "So you said several times. But don't worry, by now she is probably wearing the gift you brought her and thinking of you fondly for your thoughtfulness."

  "I doubt it—she still doesn't trust me." Garreth leaned forward. "I must remember to thank your sister for selecting Sabine's gift. What was it?"

  "Betty said it was a cape befitting a queen. When you get the accounting, you'll think you bought the Crown Jewels."

  "That would be your idea," Garreth said dryly.

  "It was. I told my sister not to consider the cost, and she didn't." Stephen drained his ale. "By the way, you wrote your little wife a charming sentiment."

  "I suppose that was your idea also."

  "Of course." Then Stephen became serious. "I pity the little duchess, Garreth. Be kind to her."

  "Perhaps you should have married her," Garreth said sourly.

  "The king didn't ask it of me. Of course I don't hold the power and rank of your family. But mark this well, Garreth, Sabine Blackthorn will one day make you proud to be her husband. Even though she's young, she has pride and conducts herself with honor and dignity. Those are rare qualities and you should cherish them in her."

  "This conversation begins to weary me," Garreth said, coming to his feet. "If we are going to make London, we had best be away."

  6

  Sabine was bent over her father's desk while his steward explained to her about keeping household accounts. Her mother had begun to train her more diligently in the management of a large household as she prepared to become mistress of Wolfeton Keep.

  Thea, her old nursemaid, appeared at the door. "No more lessons today. Her ladyship's asking for you."

  Sabine closed the ledger gratefully and stood. On her way out of the room she stopped at the window to look at the gathering clouds. "It looks as if it'll storm before nightfall."

  Thea nodded while peering over Sabine's shoulder. "Aye, that it will."

  They had just stepped into the entry when the storm hit. A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows and one flew open, blowing out the candles and casting them into darkness. Servants rushed about, latching windows and relighting candles.

  "Tis an ill omen," Thea said. "Something bad is going to happen."

  Sabine shivered, not knowing why. She, too, had been feeling restless and uneasy all day, and now that night was approaching, the feeling only intensified.

  At that moment, her mother's personal maid came rushing down the stairs, her face red as she gasped to catch her breath. "Everything's astir, Your Grace. Her ladyship is giving birth! I was sent to find your father."

  Sabine hurried toward the stairs. "I must go to her at once."

  "No!" Thea said emphatically, planting her body in Sabine's path. "Even though you're married, you ha
ve no place in a birthing chamber."

  Sabine looked stricken, and Thea spoke to her soothingly. "You must think of what's best for your mother. This is no time for her ladyship to be worrying about you. Wait in your room, and I'll come to you as soon as the baby is born."

  Reluctantly, Sabine went upstairs, where she settled Richard for the night and then went to her own bedchamber. She tried to concentrate on her needlework, but it was useless, so she set it aside. She turned her head to the window, watching rain patter against the glass, and prayed that this baby would live.

  It was not yet midnight when Thea entered the room, sorrowfully shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Sabine, the baby died. Her ladyship's asked to see you."

  "No, Thea! How will she endure this loss?"

  "Tis a tragedy. I don't believe she'll have any more children—this birth was hard on her. Go to her and give what comfort you can."

  Sabine hurried down the corridor and into her mother's bedchamber. Lady Woodbridge was pale and her damp hair clung to her face. When she looked at Sabine, her eyes were dull and so sad. She reached for her daughter's hand. "Do not look so distraught, dearest. It was not meant that the child should live."

  Sabine dropped to her knees, pressing her lips to her mother's hand. There were no words she could utter that would bring comfort. "Please rest now, Maman. I shall stay beside you tonight."

  Her mother managed a weak smile. "You have always been so dear to me, Sabine. Promise that you will take care of Richard."

  Sabine exchanged a puzzled glance with her father, who stood at the foot of the bed, looking miserable. "But you will care for Richard yourself, Maman. Tell her, Papa."

  "Do not speak thus, Ryanne, lest you bring it about," Lord Woodbridge said harshly.

  "But if anything should happen—it will not—but if it should, Sabine, you will give Richard the love that I would have given him?"

  Sabine could see that her mother needed her assurance. "I promise, Maman."