Song of the Heart (Medieval Runaway Wives Book 1)

by Alexa Aston

  “Then answer my question. I want to know who the woman is who has made such a difference in my granddaughter’s life.” She smiled wistfully. “To see Lyssa behaving as a child her age should warms these old bones.”

  “You’re not old, Mother.”

  She sighed. “Sometimes, I feel very old, Garrett. But Lyssa keeps me young. It was nothing short of a miracle to see her sing with such abandon. Freely giving of herself with a joy that seemed immeasurable.”

  He smiled. “It was delightful to behold. It has been far too long since I have witnessed her acting as a child should.”

  Edith studied him carefully. “Lyssa said that Madeleine was your friend. What does that mean?”

  He shook his head. “I wish I could tell you, Mother. Madeleine is a member of the mummer’s troupe. She serves as one of their troubadours.”

  Her eyes widened. “A woman who is a troubadour? Why, that is unheard of.”

  “She is the first I have come across to perform in that role. You must come and hear her play and sing. I swear, it is as if the heavens have opened up and the very angels are using her as their vessel.”

  “Why, Garrett, you are almost waxing poetic. It is very unlike you. Why does Lyssa call this woman your friend? I cannot imagine any man being friends with a woman, much less a stranger. One from a mummers’ troupe.”

  He thought a moment. “I have spent time in Madeleine’s company, both with Lyssa and on my own. Madeleine is unlike any woman of my acquaintance. Mother. She can be quite reserved and yet, at times, I have seen her become lively and cheerful. Mostly, I have witnessed this when Lyssa is present. Though Madeleine has no children of her own, she is drawn to them and they to her.”

  Garrett pushed his hands through his hair, frustration building within him. “She is quite the puzzle to me. She can be abrasive when addressing me yet I am intrigued by her every word. I haven’t felt so alive in many years. I have challenged her. Argued with her. Laughed with her.” He sighed. “And I have watched her with Lyssa and seen the changes she has made in my daughter’s life.”

  His mother placed a hand on his arm. “I know you have been lonely for years, Garrett. Ever since Lynnette left. I am torn between my concern for your involvement with this woman and yet I want to support any relationship that not only brings happiness to Lyssa—but to you.”

  “It’s not what you think. I have no true relationship with Madeleine,” he assured Edith. “We are little more than acquaintances.”

  “Yet I see in your eyes that you wish it could be much more.”

  With a few words, his mother had cut to the heart of the matter. He did want more from Madeleine, more than she could give him. Yet he was willing to take whatever crumbs he could from her, hoping that might be enough to soothe his soul.

  “I plan to enjoy the little time I will spend in her company while the mummers remain at Stanbury,” he said brusquely. “Madeleine has already woven a spell about Lyssa and is drawing her out. If that’s all that occurs before the troupe leaves, I will be more than satisfied.”

  He rose, wishing to be alone. “I must speak to Ash,” he said, using his friend as an excuse to leave the great hall.

  As Garrett retreated, he thought of how Madeleine had also bewitched him—and wondered if he would muster the courage to let her go when the time came.

  *

  Madeleine stayed busy the rest of the day. There was much to be done since the faire opened in two days’ time. It would be in operation for almost a week and then culminate with the summer solstice. Not much emphasis was placed upon this day in France but in England, particularly for the people she now resided with, this event seemed to have special significance.

  “Think, Maddie, ’tis the longest day of the year,” Gwenith told her. “Some think it a night of eerie superstitions but Mama always told me ’twas a night for passion to run wild.” Gwenith’s eyes sparkled for a moment. “Anything can happen during solstice.” She sighed and then looked a bit sheepish. “Most anything, I suppose. At least that’s when Evan’s papa swept me off me feet with but one kiss. Oh, he was a rascal, that man.”

  Madeleine smiled at her friend. Today, Gwenith had a bit of color in her cheeks and she was sitting up talking animatedly. Evan had been in and out and Gwenith finally felt well enough to pay him some attention. Her cough still sounded ferocious but it appeared less often, though the dark circles still remained under her eyes.

  “Where did you meet Evan’s father?” Madeleine asked, curious.

  Evan burst into the tent. “Are ye going to read to Mama again?”

  Color swept up Gwenith’s cheeks as Evan leaped into her lap.

  Madeleine laughed and met Gwenith’s gaze. “You’re just in time.” Keeping her voice low and soothing, she started the book she’d been entertaining them with the past few nights.

  Evan nuzzled his mother’s cheek and sat close to her as Madeleine finished up.

  “That ’twas nice, Maddie, dear. Thank ye.” Gwenith stroked Evan’s hair, a contented look upon her face.

  Evan suddenly sat up. “Mama! I made a new friend today.”

  “Ye did? What’s his name?” Gwenith asked eagerly.

  “It’s not a he, Mama. It’s a she. She’s five.” He held up five fingers on his hand. “She likes to run and she’s gonna see me in the show.”

  “That’s nice, my sweet.”

  “She’s friends with Maddie, too. Maddie told us a story about a castle and a fairy princess. And there was a mean witch and a . . .” He paused and frowned. “What’s he called again, Maddie?”

  “A warlock, Evan. That’s a man who’s a witch.”

  “That’s right, Mama, a warlock.” He shivered. “’Twas a very scary man he was but the hero saved them all.”

  Evan stood, ready to go again, but not before he imparted one more piece of information. “Maddie has a friend, too. He’s Lyssa’s papa, and she called him me lord. I thought lords were very scary, like warlocks, but Lyssa’s papa was nice.”

  Evan kissed his mother’s cheek. “I’m gonna see if Osbert needs me help, Mama. I’ll be back.”

  “Don’t be gone too long, Son. ’Tis almost time ye were abed.”

  Gwenith waited till Evan was out of earshot before turning to Madeleine. “So ye’ve a friend who’s a lord?”

  Madeleine blushed, which made Gwenith chuckle. “Tell me all, dearest, and no holding back.”

  She was reluctant to share the entire story with Gwenith. Early on, she had revealed to Gwenith that she was married but hadn’t provided any details as to why she was not keeping company with her husband.

  “You remember when you found me on the docks, Gwenith?”

  “Aye.”

  Madeleine filled Gwenith in on her encounters with Garrett, leaving out their kiss, of course. That was something she’d keep to warm herself when the nightmares got bad.

  “The earl’s daughter is a precious little angel. She and Evan got along so well. It was good to see Evan have a companion near his own age.”

  “And ye, too, Maddie?”

  Madeleine flushed as Gwenith gave her a knowing smile. “Ye keep people at arm’s length, Maddie. Oh, not Evan and me, but I’ve thought ye needed more than us.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve become my family, Gwenith. You, Evan, the troupe. You’ve all taken me in and been so kind. Don’t go seeing things where they aren’t,” she gently scolded.

  “It’s already there, Maddie,” Gwenith softly said. “There’s something between ye and this lord. Oh, stop shaking yer head at me, girl. I know ye.”

  She reached over and took Madeleine’s hand. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on ye that ye’re no commoner, Maddie Bouchard, or whatever yer name is. I don’t know what ye’re running from or why, but I do know I love ye like me own flesh.”

  Gwenith leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Madeleine’s neck. “I want ye to be happy.”

  She let go and fell back into her pillows. “Don’t l
ive life with regrets, Maddie. Don’t look back. Look ahead.”

  But what could she look forward to? She longed to return to France and leave her burdens behind, but if she did, she feared what would happen to Gwenith and Evan if her friend didn’t fully recover.

  Yet, more than anything, she longed to see Garrett again. To spar with him. To see that gentle smile he withheld from the world. To feel his mouth on hers.

  Her head ached. Maybe some air would do her good. She bent and kissed Gwenith’s cheek and brushed the hair back from her friend’s brow. It frightened her how Gwenith had wasted away in just a few short weeks. Though she still bloomed with optimism, her cheeks were sunken, her eyes dull, and her flesh seemed to hang on her bones. Madeleine blinked back the tears just as Evan came in. He kissed his mother goodnight and allowed Madeleine to tuck him in.

  She left the tent. The camp was settling down for the night. A few mummers still gathered around the dying fire, talking and joking, but most people were ready for a good night’s sleep. She continued toward the open area, which would soon be covered with wares and crowds of people interested in buying and selling their goods. It was a different kind of life—but one she’d come to appreciate. The people might not have two coins to rub together but they were rich in all that mattered. They had an honesty about them and a love for what they did. Madeleine realized that these past few months had been among the happiest in her life.

  Thankfully, those around her had dispelled the horrors of Henri for a time, which had helped her soul begin to heal. She listened to the crickets’ soft music, longing for the nights she and her father sat together outside and listened to their chirping. She glanced up to the star-filled night, at peace for the moment.

  “Madeleine.”

  The peace instantly shattered. She turned and saw a frowning Royce approaching her. He did not seem to be in good spirits and she sought to dispel his sour mood with humor.

  “Good evening to you, Royce. Aren’t you in a black mood? If I didn’t know better, I’d think—”

  “Enough, Madeleine,” he said angrily.

  His tone immediately put her on guard. She had heard it too many times from Henri.

  “What’s wrong, Royce?” she asked carefully.

  “I thought you were married.” He spit the words out at her. His blue eyes, usually so merry, were now as cold as ice as he looked at her with suspicion.

  Her stomach roiled, a queasy feeling settling in it. “I am. I told you so.”

  “Have you told Lord Montayne?” His eyes narrowed as he studied her.

  “Why would I bother to tell our lord host of my marital status?” she tossed back.

  “Why, indeed? I would have thought that unnecessary. Until I saw you together this afternoon.”

  Madeleine quickly thought back and realized Royce must have seen them walking with Lyssa.

  “Yes, I was with Lord Montayne earlier today. He asked that I show him and his daughter around. I was happy to comply.”

  “You seemed awfully cozy.”

  “Royce, please. I was merely doing the earl a favor. I love children so, and his daughter is a very sweet girl. In fact, she and Evan have become fast friends.”

  “I saw how he looked at you.”

  She stammered, “Wh-what do you mean?”

  He took her by her arm, his fingers like steel pressed against her tender flesh. “I know what a man wants when he looks at a woman like that, Madeleine, and it’s not a tour of the faire grounds.”

  “Royce, let go,” she said quietly. “You’re hurting me.”

  He jerked her close to him. She was so near she could see the stubble along his chin and her stomach churned. Usually, she could swallow the nausea until Henri was through beating her. This time, Madeleine didn’t know if she could now. She was out of practice—and so very afraid. The thought that she had no control of this situation made her hysteria rise. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs as dread filled her. She couldn’t form a coherent thought. All she wanted was to be free of this man. To run and hide. To find sanctuary.

  His other hand went around her nape, his fingers tightening. Terror seized her, holding her in place as much as his strong hands. As Royce’s eyes bored into her, something snapped within her.

  Why was she so afraid?

  This man was not her husband. He held no power over her. No man did. Within seconds, her fear morphed into fury. She might have taken the abuse in the past because it was at the hands of her husband. This time, it was different.

  She was different.

  Madeleine determined she would never allow herself to be bullied by a man ever again. Though she knew that physically she was no match for Royce, she could scream to the bloody heavens if she had to in order to bring help. Causing trouble for Farley and Elspeth was the last thing she wanted to do, however, seeing as how they had been so good to her. She would make an effort to reason with Royce.

  If it failed, only then would she act, hoping the consequences of her actions wouldn’t reflect poorly on the owners of the troupe.

  “Royce, please,” she said calmly. “You must release me now. I insist.”

  “Is this how the mighty lord looked at you, Madeleine? Did he want you as much as I do? Would you do for him and deny me?” he sneered.

  “Take your hands from her,” a voice commanded from the dark.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Take your hands from her.”

  Garrett was surprised at how steady his voice remained despite the anger thundering through his body. The thought of any man touching Madeleine against her will sickened him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting to tear the bastard from Madeleine and slam him to the ground.

  The couple turned in his direction. Garrett could see the fear and alarm written across Madeleine’s face. He now recognized the man as the one called Royce who’d whisked Madeleine away from him at the other faire. He’d been jealous of the mummer at the time, but he was furious at the man now.

  Garrett took another step toward them. Royce still clasped Madeleine’s arm in a tight grip, one that would surely leave bruises on the morrow. He sized up his adversary. His chest was broad and thick and his arms were well-muscled. The moonlight caught the ice-blue eyes that stared daggers at him.

  “Unhand the lady now,” Garrett demanded.

  Royce thrust Madeleine from him, releasing his death grip. She immediately began rubbing her arm, tears glinting against the moonlight.

  “Are you all right, Madeleine?” Garrett asked softly.

  “Yes, my lord”,” she replied, no louder than a whisper.

  “I refuse to ask your Mr. Farley to vacate the premises because of the actions of one individual,” he told Royce. “However, you are to leave and never return to Stanbury. I will not tolerate the abuse of women in any manner.”

  Royce balled his hands into fists, ready to attack. “I have never abused a woman in my life.” He made to charge Garrett but Madeleine jumped in front of him.

  “Royce, are you mad? Have you forgotten the law? Reason has fled you for I know you’d never assault a nobleman. ’Twould be death to do so!”

  Royce froze at her words.

  Garrett clenched his hands into fists as Madeleine turned and threw out her hand.

  “No, please, my lord. This was simply a misunderstanding, more my fault than Royce’s.”

  What? Her fault? Anger coiled in Garrett’s gut. Had Madeleine led this man to think he could have his way with her then changed her mind? He had no patience for cock teasers.

  She stood very still but he caught the slight tremble in her voice and body.

  “I beg you to reconsider, my lord. Royce is an integral part of several of our plays. It would be impossible for Farley to replace him now and would affect many in our troupe, not to mention the many who’ve come to Stanbury to sell their wares. Please, my lord. Do not be hasty in your decision.”

  Garrett raked a hand through his hair. He’d like nothing better t
han to punish Royce with his fists and banish him from Stanbury. Yet he needed Farley’s troupe to stay. He couldn’t risk losing Madeleine.

  He inclined his head to her. “As you wish, Madeleine.” He turned to Royce. “If I hear of or witness another scene like the one I came across this evening, there will be no forgiveness a second time. Leave Madeleine well alone—and stay far from sight—else I’ll banish you from Stanbury. Be gone!”

  Royce stood eyeing Garrett for a long moment, a surly expression upon his face. Finally, he turned and trudged off in the direction of the tents.

  Garrett took a step toward Madeleine. Her trembling grew more visible now. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, glistening in the bright moonlight. He held out his arms. He didn’t know if she moved to him or he to meet her but, suddenly, she was there, enfolded within his embrace.

  He ached for her as silent sobs racked her slender body, her thin shoulders shaking. He held her tenderly, murmuring soothing words to her, stroking her silken hair over and over. Eventually, her sobs ended and the shudders subsided—but she remained in his arms. He made no move to kiss her, choosing to comfort her instead.

  He realized it didn’t matter. Although he had fantasized about kissing her again, he was content now to simply hold her. After witnessing the scene with Royce as he held her against her will, Garrett did not want to take the chance of scaring her away.

  Besides, he liked the feel of her next to him. True, he’d rather be running his fingers through her long hair, stroking her breasts with his hands and tongue but, for now, this proved enough.

  “My lord?” Her voice was hesitant. She eased away from him slightly and met his gaze.

  “Yes, Madeleine?”

  “I . . . I want to thank you. You see . . . well, Royce has never behaved thus. I . . .” She couldn’t go on.

  “I understand, Madeleine.” He drew her to him again for a brief moment but he knew he must let her go. Reluctantly, he dropped his arms and took a step back.

  “May I accompany you to your tent?”