He hadn’t killed her ability to love.
Picking up the gold coin, she took a deep breath and departed the chamber, closing the door softly behind her.
It was time to end it.
William didn’t stay on his feet long.
The very fast, very arrogant knight may have been a trickster, confident he could send Trenton to the ground through careful planning and swift timing, but Trenton was on to his game.
At the onset of their challenge, William had literally run circles around Trenton, trying to wear him out and make him dizzy, making him more vulnerable to the attack William was planning. He tried to confuse the man by using swift movements with his sword, leaning one way and then going the other, and through it all, Trenton simply fended off the strikes William did manage to throw at him and nothing more. He didn’t make any offensive moves. In fact, he was waiting for William to tire himself out and at the rate he was going, it wasn’t long in coming.
The moment William actually stopped all of his fancy footwork, laughing at Trenton and taunting him, Trenton pretended to strike out at him, which caught William off-guard. He very nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away, and it gave Trenton the window he needed to kick William in the back of his left knee, sending the knight to both knees. Then Trenton lashed out a big boot and shoved him over, kicking him right into the dirt. As the gathering crowd of soldiers roared with laughter, William Wellesbourne was swiftly brought down.
Trenton assumed that was the end of it, but that was his mistake. With a grin on his face, he bent over William and offered him a hand to pull him up. William pretended to accept it, but he yanked on Trenton so hard that the man nearly went down, and would have had it not been for the fact that he was simply too big for William to pull over. But William managed to get to his knees and ram Trenton from the side, sending him off-balance and onto his back.
After that, it turned into a wrestling match.
Neither one was throwing punches; they were simply trying to dominate each other. Trenton had the size and strength on William, but William was as wily as a fox. He refused to be pinned, even when Trenton shoved his face into the dirt. On and on it went, with soldiers and knights standing around, laughing, including Markus and Matthew’s captain, Ranse. They were having a good time at the expense of William, and Trenton to a certain extent, as the two of them wrestled each other like a couple of wildcats.
Eventually, Trenton ended up on top of William, with the young knight on his belly, pinned in an awkward position. At this point, Matthew had turned his granddaughters over to a trusted servant and wandered out to the bailey to see what was going on. When he saw Trenton with William shoved into the dirt, he put a hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. That was most definitely not the position William had been hoping for. When Trenton caught a glimpse of Matthew, and his expression, he twisted William’s arm behind his back even further.
“School is in session, Willie,” he said, loud enough so that Matthew could hear. “It is time for you to learn your lesson. Tell me that a de Russe is always better than a Wellesbourne. Say it!”
William howled as Trenton twisted his arm, not enough to break it, but enough to hurt. “Never!” he cried. “Tear my arms off, but I shall never say it!”
Trenton was grinning as he tightened his grip and William began to squirm. “I will tear your arm off if you do not say it.”
“I won’t! You’re a brute, Trenton de Russe. You cannot make me say it!”
Now, Trenton couldn’t stop the laughter. “You are dead wrong, little lad,” he said, twisting his arm a little more. “Say it and I shall end your pain.”
William’s face was turning red. “Never!” he said. “Do your worst, but I will not say it!”
By now, the men standing around were having a good laugh at William’s expense, including Matthew, who decided to end his son’s pain. He walked up on the pair, bending over so he could look his son in the face.
“Willie, a very big man is trying to snap your arm in two,” he said. “If I were you, I would simply say what he wants you to say and be done with it.”
William was starting to become humiliated. “I will not,” he said. “If he is going to break my arm, then he should get on with it!”
Matthew looked at Trenton, a smirk on his face. “I believe he is surrendering.”
“I am not!” William spat.
Matthew shook his head at his son’s foolishness. “Trenton, I would consider it a personal favor if you did not break his arm. I have need of him from time to time.”
In an instant, Trenton let William go and leapt to his feet, staying far enough away from William that should the man try to retaliate, he was out of arm’s length. William pushed himself out of the dirt, eyeing Trenton, but that ever-present smile flickered on his lips. Trenton could see by looking at him that there were no real hard feelings, even if Trenton had humiliated him just a bit.
“Another time, de Russe,” he said, rubbing his right arm, the one Trenton had twisted. “I will get you another time when you least expect it.”
Trenton grinned. “You are welcome to try,” he said. “But there never was a Wellesbourne that could best a de Russe, and you shall not be the first.”
William pointed at him with a rather mischievous smirk on his lips as he walked away, taking his sword from a soldier who happened to have picked it up out of the dirt. Matthew followed his son, putting a fatherly hand on his shoulder as they headed off. With the spectacle over, the crowd started to disband and Trenton headed for the knight who was holding his sword, also picked up out of the dirt. Ranse de Troyes lifted the weapon, hilt first, to Trenton.
“An excellent spectacle, my lord,” de Troyes said. “I have often wanted to do that myself to William, but the fact that I serve his father makes beating the son rather precarious.”
Trenton laughed softly as he took his sword from the man. He didn’t really know him, but he’d seen him around the castle in the time he’d been there. His was a new face at Wellesbourne, at least to Trenton.
“We have not yet met formally, but your praise is appreciated and appropriate, so I can tell that you are a man of taste,” he said, watching de Troyes grin. “In case you have not yet been told, I am Trenton de Russe.”
“Trenton de Russe, Earl of Westbury,” Markus put in. He was standing a few feet away. “Westbury’s father is the Duke of Warminster.”
Trenton waved him off. “I do not go by Westbury,” he said. “De Russe is my preference.”
Ranse dipped his head respectfully. “Ransom de Troyes, my lord,” he said. “I have heard stories of you from your time here at Wellesbourne Castle. I have heard that there wasn’t a man here who could best you, and I see that rumor holds true with young William.”
Trenton snorted. “As you have heard the threats, Willie intends to do all he can to dispel that rumor,” he said. “If you see him sneaking up behind me with a hammer, I hope you will warn me.”
Ranse laughed. “Indeed I will, my lord,” he said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I fear I have been away from my duties long enough.”
With that, he headed back to the gatehouse. Trenton held up his sword, seeing if it suffered any damage during his bout with William, as he spoke to Markus.
“He seemed amiable enough,” he said.
Markus nodded. “We both came to Wellesbourne at nearly the same time,” he said. “I was unfortunate enough to be sent to Stretford whilst Ranse remained here. He is an excellent knight, having fostered and trained at Canterbury.”
“De Lohr?”
“Aye.”
“He is a good man.”
Trenton was about to say more when he caught sight of Lysabel standing several feet away. She was politely waiting for him to end his conversation without interrupting, and he immediately excused himself from Markus and made his way over to her.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked pleasantly.
But Lysabel did
n’t smile in return, nor did her manner reflect any warmness. In fact, she answered him rather coolly.
“Long enough to see you beat my brother into the ground,” she said. “He has deserved that for a long time.”
Trenton sensed her mood but he wasn’t sure why. “He will forget whatever humiliation there was in an hour,” he said. “He will be back at me tomorrow, challenging me again, I am sure.”
“Mayhap.”
There was a pause and Trenton was increasingly aware of the somber mood she was in but he didn’t want to ask outright what her trouble was. If she wanted him to know what the matter was, she would tell him. Or, so he assumed. He continued on as if nothing was amiss.
“Where are your daughters?” he asked. “I expected them to overpower your father and take their ponies back. I cannot imagine they would let those little animals rest so easily.”
Lysabel looked at him. “Since my father had charge of them, I am sure they are well, wherever they are.” Then, she extended her closed fist to him. “Here.”
Trenton couldn’t see what it was that she had folded up in her palm, so he extended his open palm and she deposited a dull gold coin into it. He looked at her in surprise.
“What is this for?” he asked.
“The ponies.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I am paying you for them.”
He was greatly confused by now. “But why?”
Lysabel didn’t hesitate. “Because I am sure your wife would not like you to spend money on children that are not your own,” she said. “Mayhap it is better if you return to London now, Trenton. There is no reason for you to remain here.”
Wife.
Trenton felt as if he’d been punched in the gut; all of the air got sucked out of him. By God, she knew! Someone had told her that which he should have told her himself and he could see by the expression on her face that she was furious with him. Nay… not simply furious.
Hateful.
His first reaction was to fall to her feet and plead forgiveness, but he fought it. If there was any hope in salvaging this, and he prayed there was, then he needed to remain calm and rational. He had to say everything he needed to say before she walked out of his life forever.
He had a lot of explaining to do.
“May we go into the garden and speak of this?” he asked.
Lysabel shook her head, taking a step away from him. “Are you married?”
“It seems to me that you already know the answer to that question.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“I am.”
She sighed sharply, rocked by the truth from his mouth. “Then there is nothing to speak of,” she said evenly. “Last night, you spoke of kindness and caring, and you led me to believe that you wanted to court me. But I have since discovered that to be untruthful. There is nothing more to say, Trenton. Thank you for what you did for me when you removed Benoit, but your task is finished now. You may leave.”
His heart sank. She was stiff and unyielding, unwilling to even extend him the slightest courtesy, but he didn’t blame her. He didn’t deserve it. He should have told her the truth last night at the very least, but his selfishness had prevented it. Something foolish and giddy that had caused him to withhold information because he didn’t want to spoil that lovely relationship they had been building. He had wanted to live in a fantasy world and he had.
But now, it was going to cost him.
“I am sorry I did not tell you,” he said, hoping she would listen to him before she walked away. “I have no excuse other than I did not want to tell you. What I told you last night was not a lie, Lysabel. You are the most perfect creature I have ever seen, and I wanted to be close to that perfection. And what we shared, just the two of us, was beyond compare. I wanted to know something I’d never known before – the laughter, the witty repartee, the expression on your face when you look at me that makes my belly quivery like a giddy squire. I have never known that with anyone and I suppose I wanted to live in that world with you, where only the two of us and your children exist. It is such a beautiful world and I did not want to lose it.”
Lysabel was looking away from him. She knew she should walk away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Like Trenton, she had wanted to live in a fantasy world where no one else existed. She’d caught a glimpse of it and she wanted it very badly. But there was so much grief in her heart at the moment that she hardly knew where to begin.
“That does not excuse what you have done,” she said. “You have made me a party to stealing another woman’s husband and that is shameful. You used sweet words and lies to coerce me and I shall never forgive you for it. You made me believe that I was special.”
“You are,” he insisted softly, feeling desperate when he had no right to. “You are more special and wonderful than anything I have ever known. If an explanation will do any good, then I shall gladly give you one. My father forced me to marry Adela six years ago and since that time, she has lived in Penleigh House without me. I have been home only twice. She hates the sight of me and I hate the sight of her, and I forget that I am even married. I hate that I am. It is a marriage in name only, so when I realized I felt something for you, it was so very easy to forget that I have a wife. I wish I did not; God in heaven, I wish that more than anything on earth and I am so very sorry that I pulled you into that deception. But I am not sorry for what I feel for you.”
Tears were in Lysabel’s eyes, trickling down her cheeks as she quickly wiped them away. “You should have told me.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. But I couldn’t, and the more time passed, the harder it became to be truthful.”
Lysabel sighed heavily, finally turning to look at him and seeing how anxious he appeared. She’d never seen that expression on his face before, the consummately controlled knight. It was enough to cause her to believe that he was truly repentant, but it still wasn’t good enough, because she had a volley of ammunition to fire at him. What was blooming between them was about to be destroyed for good.
“It does not matter,” she finally said. “Nothing matters any longer. You see, I have a secret of my own. I have not been truthful with you, either. The night you came to Stretford and killed Benoit was the night I conceived his child under brutal circumstances. I should have told you of it last night, when we became close, but I didn’t. Like you, I wanted to share something I’d never known before, so in that sense, I am as guilty as you are. We have both lied to one another. Go back to London and forget you ever knew me, Trenton. It will be better for us both that way.”
He stared at her, his features pale and slack. “Oh… Lys,” he finally sighed. “I am so sorry.”
“So am I.”
“But it does not change my feelings.”
She looked at him, sharply. “Do you not understand?” she snapped. “This is Benoit’s child.”
“I understand.”
She was starting to become frustrated. “You are married, and I am pregnant with a dead man’s child. Those are two things that cannot be overcome, no matter how much you pretend otherwise. You should be furious at me.”
“Yet, I am not.”
“Are you mad?”
Trenton remained cool. “Not at all,” he said. “But I want you to tell me something.”
“What?”
“Look at me and tell me how you have felt about me since we left each other this morning. Forget about this moment in time and the anguish you feel; tell me what you felt for me as I was making love to you.”
Her frustrated movements came to a halt as she met his gaze, that murky gray color that was like looking into the eye of a storm. There was a tempest raging in those orbs, and as much as she tried to look away, she couldn’t.
“Why?” she finally asked, tears welling again. “What good will that do?”
Trenton reached out and took her hand, even as she tried to pull away. He placed the gold coin in her right palm a
nd folded her fingers over it, giving her back her money.
“Please tell me,” he whispered. “If they are to be the last words I ever hear from you, then make them something to remember. Please.”
Her lower lip began to tremble and she finally tore her gaze away, blinking rapidly to try and dispel the tears. But it was a losing battle.
“I do not want to speak of this,” she said. “It will only bring us both pain.”
He sighed sharply. “I want to explain something to you about me, since all truths are between us,” he said. “I have been married three times. As you know, my first wife died in childbirth. She was a sweet girl and I loved her, but like a fool, I never told her. My second wife was murdered before we ever had the chance to develop feelings for one another, and my third wife… you already know the situation with her. I never believed I was careless with women, but it seems that way. One cannot deny one’s own record. Therefore, I will tell you this – I knew early on that I was attracted to you and, at this moment, I wholly adore you. I am certain that it is turning in to love, and if it is, I swear I would not keep from telling you every day. The reality is that I am married to a woman who hates me, a woman I never see. The reality is that she does not have my heart – except for my first wife, no one ever has. I do not give it readily or easily but, at this moment, I could give you my heart and soul and everything else, and I would not regret one moment of it. Lysabel, for the first time in my life, I know I could be happy. Married or not, I will love you for the rest of your life and never be sorry.”
Lysabel closed her eyes tightly, her hand at her throat as if she were in physical pain. In truth, she was; she’d never heard such beautiful and tragic words in her entire life. The problem was that she believed him.
She believed every word.
“Words of such beauty,” she said. “I have waited my entire life to hear such words. But they are empty.”
Dark Moon (The de Russe Legacy Book 6) Page 16
