Defeated.
It was several long, painful moments before she dared speak.
“Why do you ask such a thing?” she murmured.
“I can easily discover the answer to my question myself, so I am asking you to tell me the truth.”
“And how would you discover it?”
“Do you truly think you can hide your condition beneath a thin drying towel and a shift?”
That brought her pause. Every emotion, every horror and every fragment of despair rippled across her face as she tried to form the words that would give him a suitable answer.
She was trapped and she knew it.
“It is not as it sounds,” she finally said.
“What is not as it sounds?”
She looked away from him completely, so he could not see her face, but he could see her shoulders heaving as she silently wept. There was a long pause before she replied.
“He… he told me he loved me,” she whispered. “I believed him. He said he would return for me, but he did not.”
It was confirmation as far as Maxton was concerned and he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He felt sick. Moving in her direction, he spoke softly.
“Tell me all of it,” he said softly. “Please.”
She was looking at the wall. “I cannot speak of it,” she whispered. “To speak of it makes it real, and I do not want this to be real.”
Maxton sighed faintly, lowering himself to the nearest chair. He was so despondent he found it difficult to stand. It was as if all of the energy had drained right out of him.
“It is real whether or not you speak of it,” he said. “Please tell me what happened.”
She sat there and struggled. Maxton could see that she was wiping her face. When she finally began to speak, he could hardly hear her.
“He said he loved me,” she repeated. “We knew each other at Okehampton. I thought we would marry someday, or at least I thought so before I was sent to St. Blitha. Last summer, he finally found me at St. Blitha and he told me he loved me. He said he would return for me, but he never did.”
Maxton could see how ashamed she was. “And he left you with child?”
She wiped at her face, struggling for the last vestiges of her dignity. “I did not want to admit it,” she said. “I have pretended nothing is wrong.”
“Did he force himself upon you? Did he rape you?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But he seduced me and I did not resist as much as I should have. He told me he loved me and he wanted to demonstrate that love. I was so happy to see him that I believed him.”
“And he lied to you.”
Sobs caught in her throat as she nodded. “I will end up in The Chaos for this,” she said, finally turning to look at him. “I shall end up in The Chaos and so will the child. It will be dead before it ever has a chance to live. I will have killed it!”
Her voice was lifting in panic. Sighing heavily, Maxton stood up from the chair and made his way over to her.
“You will not end up in The Chaos,” he murmured. “Stand up.”
Andressa looked up at him, terror in her eyes. But as she gazed at him, the trust they’d established took hold. She had no one else in the world to turn to, but she had Maxton. He’d proven that.
Slowly, she obeyed him, clutching the damp drying towel around her body. The moment she rose to her feet, Maxton pushed the towel out of the way so that he could get a look at her torso. When the damp shift concealed too much, he put his hands onto her swollen belly to feel it for himself.
It was a bold move, and an intimate one. He heard her gasp, but she didn’t pull away. The moment his hands collided with her rounded belly, Andressa burst into quiet tears, turning her head away as he ran his fingers over the perfectly rounded bump. If there had been any question about the trust between the two of them before, his intimate action sealed their complete trust.
Now, it was set in stone.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “When did this happen?”
She put her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. “Last summer.”
“Then you should be delivering this child in the next month or two.”
That only made her weep harder, as if she had no answer for him. “Did you truly not know you were with child, Andressa?” Maxton asked. “Did you truly think that the swelling of your belly meant something else?”
She lifted her slender shoulders. “I was praying it was not true,” she whispered. “I was praying it was all a great mistake. If I ignored it, I hoped it would go away. I… I worked very hard, hoping the seed would die, but it did not. Then, when the child began to move…”
“He moves?”
She nodded. “It moves quite a lot, especially when I am trying to sleep.”
He couldn’t help but notice she addressed the child as “it”. Not he, or she, but “it”. Beneath his hands, her belly was warm and firm. Not huge, but definitely rounded, about the size of a large melon and easily concealed by the loose clothing she wore. He removed his hands and pulled the damp drying towel tightly around her, covering her up.
Now, Maxton had a dilemma. A massive one. William Marshal wanted Andressa to return to St. Blitha, but if Maxton had been uncertain before, now he was doubly so. He couldn’t send a pregnant woman back there and a wild sense of protection swept him. This wasn’t even his child, but it didn’t seem to matter. Andressa was vulnerable and needed protecting. Wasn’t that what he was sworn to do, as a knight? God, he’d spent so much time killing men on command, or fighting other men’s battles – right or wrong – that the chivalry had left him long ago.
But now, it was back.
It didn’t matter that some foolish knight had seduced Andressa and left her with his child to deal with. Nay, that didn’t matter in the least. Maxton was the last one to judge when it came to sinning.
He told me he loved me…
It was one more horrific situation for this poor woman to deal with.
“I am sorry, my lord,” Andressa suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between them. “I am so very sorry for my failings and my weakness. It would seem that all you have known from me since the moment we met are failings and weakness, but I assure you, I was not always like this. Once, I was a strong, noble woman. I was excellent in my studies. I had many friends. Believe it or not, I was pretty once, too. Or, so I am told. But you have discovered me at my lowest and, for that, I am very sorry. I wish you knew me before… before all of this.”
He looked at her. “You are beautiful,” he said as if she were mad to believe otherwise. “As for discovering you at your lowest, I am in no position to condemn you. My sins far outweigh your own.”
She looked at him in astonishment. “Then… then you are not… you do not think I am a horrible, failing creature for what I have done?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I am going to tell you something, Andressa,” he said pointedly. “I, too, have indulged in pleasures of the flesh outside of marriage, so if that is a sin, then I have sinned many times over. You are not alone.”
One might have thought it to be a tasteless confession, but to Andressa, it was possibly the best thing he could have said. When he could have turned his nose up at her, he proudly told her that she wasn’t alone in her failings. Not every man would have done that.
“Then… you are not disgusted?” She was still incredulous.
“Nay,” he said. “We all have our moments of weakness. You are not to blame.”
Andressa could hardly believe his reaction. For something she’d been trying to ignore, to pretend wasn’t real, his attitude made her feel like there was hope… hope for her, hope for everything. Hope that, perhaps, this wasn’t the end for her, after all.
“You are very understanding,” she said. “Most anyone would judge my actions harshly.”
He snorted softly. “As I said, I have sinned in such a way many times over, with many women who were not my wife.”
“Then you
are not married, my lord?”
He shook his head. “Stop addressing me formally,” he said. “It seems ridiculous under these circumstances. You will call me Maxton. Or Max. Call me what you wish, Andressa. I will answer. But to answer your question, I am not married.”
“But why not?”
“Who would have me?”
She blinked, as if the question was ridiculous. “Any woman would be very fortunate to have you as a husband,” she said. “You are a skilled, kind, and generous knight, and surely you have much to offer any woman. Has someone been foolish enough to deny your suit? Is that it?”
He looked at her, a flicker of a smile on his lips. “I’ve not been brave enough or stupid enough to actually pursue a woman,” he said. “But your words are appreciated. I am not sure if they are true, but they are appreciated.”
Andressa eyed him. “You have told me of things from your past, things you are not proud of,” she said. “Will… will you tell me where you come from, my lo… I mean, Sir Maxton? You know much about me, but I know very little about you.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I do. Will you please tell me?”
He thought on that. It seemed an odd subject shift, from the subject of her illicit pregnancy to speaking of his background. But the truth was that he was glad to be off the subject of the child, at least for the moment. Perhaps speaking of himself might distract her enough to cause her to relax.
“If you call me Sir Maxton again, I am going to pinch you,” he said, watching a timid smile spread across her face. He couldn’t help but grin in return, a light moment in the midst of a heady situation. “It is simply Maxton, or Max. As for my background, you already know I am from Devon. Though my family name is de Long, we are known for our castle of Loxbeare Cross. An ancestor of mine built it one hundred and fifty years ago, and simply used it to refer to his family instead of our family name. That is what we are known as – Loxbeare.”
Andressa understood. “So you are Maxton de Long of Loxbeare Cross,” she clarified, watching him nod. “I have heard of men using the names of their homes as identification. One such family that comes to mind is Pembury. There was a Lady Pembury, a friend of my patroness, Lady de Courtney, and she was from the town of Pembury. But her family name was Culpepper.”
Maxton nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “And I have two younger brothers and a younger sister, all three of whom I’ve not seen in almost twenty years.”
“Why not?”
Maxton lifted his shoulders, averting his gaze. “I left home at a young age,” he said. “My father, Magnus, and I do not get on well. Magnus wanted me to remain at Loxbeare Cross, as his heir, and be his shadow. He did not want me to leave, but I… I wanted to see the world. I wanted to find my own way in life and do what I wanted to do, and not what my father told me to do. My father is quite overbearing.”
“Did your brothers and sister remain with him, then?”
Maxton turned away from her at that point, returning to the chair he’d been sitting in as he settled into a conversation that, under normal circumstances, was uncomfortable for him.
“My brother, Emmett, is more like my father,” he said. “He is content to remain at home and rule with my father, while my brother, Jasper, has devoted his life to the church. The last I heard, he had taken his vows as a Benedictine priest somewhere in York. And my little sister, Lucy… I do not know what has become of her. She and I were quite close and when I left, she was around eight years of age. That would be at least twenty or more years ago. She was a light in my world. I miss her.”
Cracks in his façade were starting to show, emotions from the usually emotionless man. Andressa sensed that. “Surely you can write to your father and discover what has become of her?” she asked. “Mayhap she is married now, with many children to call you uncle.”
Maxton thought back to the little girl with the red curls, and how much she had wept when he’d left home. “I have written to my father,” he said quietly. “I never receive a reply.”
“Oh,” Andressa said as if sorry she had even suggested such a thing. “Is your father angry with you for leaving Loxbeare Cross, then?”
Maxton considered that question. “Angry? Aye,” he said. “But mostly disappointed. He did not want me to see the world and seek my own way in life. He wanted me to take after him, to be exactly like him. I could not do it. I had to follow my own path.”
“But you do not regret doing such a thing?”
“Never,” he said resolutely. “But I am sure my father has caught wind of my unsavory reputation as an Executioner Knight, among other things. Most everyone in England has. I am sure that is why he does not answer my missives. He is ashamed of me.”
Andressa was silent for a moment as she turned for the stool next to the hearth, lowering herself down to it. “You are still his son,” she said. “He has not stopped loving you.”
“I would not be too sure.”
“Mayhap you should go home and find out for yourself. At least, you would know for certain.”
Had anyone else made that suggestion, he would have scoffed, but coming from Andressa, he couldn’t seem to refute her. Her tone was gentle, her words reasonable. She had a great sense of wisdom about her, something he’d seen from the start. Therefore, he simply nodded his head.
“Mayhap,” he replied quietly. “But not today. Mayhap someday. In any case, now you know something of me. I am unspectacular.”
“You are fascinating,” she countered. “You are a man of great experience and I am sure your father will realize that someday. He raised a son who is not a follower, but a leader. Even I can see that.”
Maxton looked at her. Everything out of her mouth about him sounded like praise. He was quite unused to that, but it didn’t sound forced. In fact, he heard great respect in her tone when she spoke of him, and to him, and it was something that made him feel strong and alive. Perhaps that was why he was so attracted to her; unknowingly, she fed something in him that needed to be fed, filling a hole he never knew he had.
She made him feel like a man in ways he couldn’t begin to comprehend.
But that brought him around to the reason why they were in this room and why Andressa was even here. He couldn’t send her back to St. Blitha, not now. They would have to figure out how to stop the assassin nuns without her because, surely, he wasn’t about to put her and the life she carried into harm’s way again. He didn’t relish telling William of the latest development, but it had to be done.
There had to be another way.
“I am sure there are many who would disagree with you, but I thank you for the confidence,” he said, rising wearily to his feet. “Now, if you are finished interrogating me, I have duties to attend to. You may remain here and rest for the time being. Have you eaten yet?”
There was a lightness to his mood that hadn’t been there before, an undercurrent of humor that was appealing. Andressa liked it. But to his question, she shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Truthfully, the bath was so wonderful, I have not missed it.”
He waved her off. “You must eat,” he said firmly. “I shall ensure food is sent up to you immediately. God only knows how the child you carry has been starved, so you must eat well if only for the child’s sake.”
He started to turn away but she stopped him. “Maxton?” she said, using his name for the first time and watching him turn to her immediately. “You have not mentioned… what I told you about King John… did you discuss this with William Marshal?”
It was exactly what he didn’t want to discuss with her, but looking into her anxious face, he reckoned that she had a right to know what was going on. It wouldn’t be fair to keep it from her since she was involved in it, as much as he was.
“I have,” he said. “We have been honest with each other from the start, so I will be honest with you now. The Marshal wants you to return to St. Blitha and keep an eye on the situation. If something unusual happens, then he wants yo
u to tell us.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t seem distress by that directive. “But he is going to tell the king not to come to St. Blitha, is he not?”
Maxton shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “The king is not to know. Andressa, you must understand something – we knew of this threat to the king. We knew because last year, I was offered money to do what your Mother Abbess has been instructed to do. I refused and was jailed for it. We suspected that more assassins would be sent to complete the task, but we never dreamed the assassins would be killer nuns. When you told us of this happening, you unknowingly solved a mystery we had been trying to figure out. You, my little friend, have been the key to all of this. You have helped save your king.”
He watched her eyes widen at the news. “The Holy Father asked you to kill the king?” she gasped.
Maxton nodded. “I spent a long time at the Lateran Palace, at the Holy Father’s invitation, and was offered the task,” he said. “When I refused, he imprisoned me and simply gave the task to the nuns who, from what you have told me, have done this kind of work before.”
She nodded solemnly. “Aye,” she said. “They have. And they show no remorse for it.”
“That is why I do not want you to go back,” he said. When she looked at him with surprise, he continued. “I did not want you to go back before I knew you were with child, but now… now, you cannot possibly go back into that den of demons. That is no place for you or your child.”
The last time he had suggested she not return to St. Blitha, she’d become panicky and ran from him. But this time, she didn’t run. She could sense his concern, and she was flattered, but it didn’t change facts.
“I have no choice,” she said. “I told you that others have tried to flee the Mother Abbess and she has found them and brought them back. The woman will find me no matter where I go and, frankly, I do not have the means to go anywhere. It is not as if I can return home.”
Nunnery Brides Page 85
