Song of the Heart (Medieval Runaway Wives Book 1)

by Alexa Aston

  Garrett eased off her and she watched him quickly doff his clothes. As the candlelight flickered and shadows danced across his muscular frame, she sucked in her breath and gripped the bedcovers. He was perfect in every way—and gazing at her with passion and love as he returned to the bed and wrapped her in his arms. His kiss was gentle now, slow and sensual, and as his tongue mated with hers, he entered her. He began an easy rhythm which she responded to readily. No thought was required. She simply moved until they were one.

  Then she shattered again, her cry of joy muffled as his mouth hungrily claimed hers again and again. She felt the tremors running through them both.

  Madeleine finally knew love. And knew it well.

  He rolled over, bringing her with him and cradled her next to him. He kissed her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks, and her mouth, over and over. She never wanted this moment to end.

  “I love you, sweetheart,” he told her again and again, nuzzling her neck, caressing her gently. She sighed her pleasure softly in his ear.

  Finally played out, he gathered her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder. After a while his ragged breathing evened out and Madeleine realized he’d fallen asleep. How could he, she wondered, after such a glorious experience? Was this what happened between a man and a woman when they loved each other? It was the most marvelous, most divine thing she’d ever known. Their lovemaking bore no resemblance to what Henri did to her. That had been vile and degrading. She thought she’d never want physical love from a man again.

  How wrong Garrett had proven her.

  Madeleine nestled closer to him, secure in his strong arms. She had no guilt, no shame in what had happened between them. She could die happily now having experienced all his love.

  Within a few days, though, she would be up to full strength and must make her way to France. She took heart, recognizing that even once she was far from him, this one night with Garrett would sustain her for the rest of her life. Knowing complete happiness for the first time ever, Madeleine fell into a deep sleep, no dreams of Henri troubling her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Madeleine awakened to nibbles on her earlobe. She opened her eyes slowly to soft candlelight.

  Garrett leaned over her, a trace of a smile on his face. “It’s very late,” he whispered as he bent to kiss her. “Mmmm, you taste good.”

  Her heart quickened as he touched her breast, his palm running lazy circles around her nipple. He made love to her once again, more gently than before, yet still filled with passion and longing.

  As they lay entwined in each other’s arms, Madeleine savored the intimacy created between them this night.

  “We won’t be able to walk through the great hall,” he told her. “One look at the two of us and all will know what has passed between us.”

  Madeleine snuggled closer to him. “I don’t look any different, my lord.”

  “No, sweetheart,” he said, “you are wrong. Even without the candlelight, I know there is a glow about you that wasn’t present before.” His fingers idly stroked her arm. “I’m sorry I broke my promise to you.”

  “Sshh,” she quieted him, placing her fingers to his lips. “I could have stopped you.”

  He combed his fingers through her hair. “No, I fear nothing could have stopped me tonight. One look at you and all was lost. Damnation!” His tone was fierce. “I will force the bishop to make good on my petition. I must. I cannot imagine spending a lifetime in limbo without you, my love.”

  She bit her lip, holding back her tears, and once more swallowed her guilt. She, too, wondered how she could spend the rest of her days on this earth without Garrett’s touch. She felt certain she’d burn throughout eternity for her actions this night but the transgression had been worthwhile. Nothing would ever compare to these hours she’d spent in his arms.

  “So, my lord,” she asked with a trembling voice, “since we have become intimate, mayhap I should know more about you.”

  “What do you wish to know, my sweet?”

  She lay a hand on his chest. “Everything.”

  He sighed. “I was raised here at Stanbury by Edith and Ryker, a man so wicked he should have sired devils with tails and horns.”

  She gasped. “You shouldn’t speak of your father so, Garrett.”

  “Why not? He never loved me or my mother.” He grew quiet for a moment. “He did love my brother, Luke, but he died before reaching manhood.”

  She squeezed his hand, wanted to comfort him for the sorrow she heard in his voice.

  “Luke died of the fever. I prayed for God to take me instead, but He had other ideas.” He paused. “Luke was good at everything. He could fell a deer better and faster than anyone at Stanbury. He would have been a terrific soldier had he lived to maturity, so natural was he at swordplay and in the saddle. I worshipped him, followed him around like a pup, drove him nearly insane.”

  Garrett seemed miles away so Madeleine left him to his memories. Finally, he spoke again. “Ryker was eventually poisoned by one of his women. He always had several mistresses. Never tried to hide anything from my mother. Marva was afraid Ryker was ready to replace her and so the bitch poisoned him. Told him in front of all present in the great hall just after he’d taken a few bites. He lived long enough to run his sword through her before he collapsed and died. All as my mother and I watched.”

  Madeleine shivered.

  “Sorry, my love. I should speak of more pleasant things.”

  They lay in the dark as he told her of his estate, his house in London, and of the horses he bred that many nobles bought from him. Then he began to speak of wine. “My family owns estates in Bordeaux, which is in the south of France. The weather is pleasant and we grow grapes that produce Merlots and Sauvignons. I’d never taken much interest in them before, although Ryker made sure I learned about wine and spoke rudimentary French.”

  A sudden chill froze Madeleine’s heart. Somehow, she knew what he was going to say. Her father had only rarely mentioned the absentee English landowner of the vineyards their family tended and always referred to it as Stanbridge land. Madeleine guessed that Garrett’s family surname was Stanbridge—and that he was her father’s employer.

  “I traveled to Chateau Branais, near the Garonne River, only last year for the first time. I spent time there with the man and his son who manage the estate for me. They’ve done so for years and they do an excellent job. Why,” and she could hear amazement in his voice as he put it together, “their name was Bouchard, just as yours is.”

  “Papa told me that it’s a common name in France,” she replied quickly. “Much as Baker is in England.”

  He seemed excited. She could feel it in the sleek muscles that rested next to her. “But the wife, I can’t remember her name, she bore a resemblance to you,” he exclaimed. “Madeleine, I might have stumbled across some of your distant relatives!”

  She was thankful that it was the dead of night and the light of the candle had long flickered out. If he could have seen her face, he would see her unraveling as he spoke.

  Madeleine tried to keep her voice calm. “That could certainly be a possibility.” Thoughts of home coupled with her nagging fear of Henri discovering her here at Stanbury brought a deep uneasiness to the pit of her stomach.

  “We will visit these Bouchards when we marry, sweetheart. I would love to show you France. It’s a beautiful place.”

  But not as beautiful as England, her heart cried out. “Mayhap,” she said, pretending to stifle a yawn.

  “Oh, my love, I’ve droned on and bored you.”

  “No, I’m not bored, just a bit tired.”

  He kissed her brow. “I must take you to your own bed. Here, let me help you dress.”

  Garrett replaced her tunics, chatting lightly as he did, and then dressing himself. “I’m to have a visitor from France at the end of this week, coincidentally.”

  The overwhelming sense of dread crashed full force upon her. Tamping down her alarm, she inquired, “Someone com
es to conduct business with you?”

  “Yes. An odd, rather cranky fellow named Henri de Picassaret. He wants to negotiate a land deal. De Picassaret would award me a portion of his champagne vineyards in northern France, close to Reims.”

  A low roar sounded in her ears and the pit of her stomach turned to ice. Her hands began shaking so she started fussing with the folds of her tunic to hide her distress.

  “What does this Frenchman want in return?” she forced out, relieved that she sounded so natural.

  “That my ships would carry his own wines to certain ports I frequent, in particular the Hanseatic ports and the Low Countries.” Garrett snorted. “We had quite a falling out in London, April last. To be honest, I thought the old man had gone half-mad. But Ash saw him at Lord Ancil’s this week and brought a letter to me from de Picassaret. The writing was fluid and intelligent and the arrangement he proposes is far sweeter than what he offered before.” Garrett shrugged. “I suppose whatever troubled him then has now been resolved. I am at least willing to meet with him again and see if this is a business venture that I wish to pursue.”

  Garrett continued speaking but Madeleine heard no more. Panic welled inside her like a pot boiling over. Henri, here, this very week.

  If he found her here, he’d kill her. He’d kill Garrett—and anyone who’d had knowledge of her.

  She must escape.

  Madeleine composed herself. She could give nothing away. She must protect Garrett at all costs. Involuntarily, she shivered.

  “Are you chilled, love?” He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back. “Let us get you to your bed.”

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hall to her chamber, placing her in the bed and pulling the bedclothes over her.

  “Sleep well, my love,” he said, his voice a soft caress before he padded quietly out the door.

  But Madeleine knew sleep would elude her the rest of this night.

  *

  What had Garrett done with her jewels?

  He was the last one with her clothes and she was positive he’d found the precious stones and hidden them away. The day after her fall, she’d spotted her freshly washed tunics neatly placed across a chair—no jewels concealed in them any longer. Instinct told her that Garrett must be behind them vanishing without a trace but he’d made no mention of them. Since she had been in no physical position at that time to bargain or demand anything, her decision to remain quiet about the gems’ disappearance had seemed wise. Now, so much time had gone by she didn’t know how to approach him, especially with all the tenderness he’d shown her. She also didn’t want him forewarned in any way of her planned attempt to flee Stanbury.

  Thank the Sweet Lord that Elspeth left Madeleine’s bundle of things when the troupe had moved on weeks ago. Annie had brought it to her and Madeleine checked it immediately when she was alone. Several valuable pieces were still in those garments. With those—and the brooch Lady Sanvale had gifted her with—she could get to a port and sail for France and Chateau Branais.

  Madeleine pondered where to travel. She was afraid to go the way of Sussex, in part because she might feel the need to stop and see Evan. Garrett would think of that and follow her, preventing her from leaving England by that route.

  She’d go to London. The stories trickling out from there spoke of a raging typhus that consumed the city. Garrett’s reeve, Stephen, who went to London on business for him sometimes, had returned the last time with horrible tales. He’d regaled the great hall one night with talk of the many bodies he’d seen stacked in the streets awaiting burial. The reeve’s lurid descriptions sickened Madeleine. She’d asked Coster to take her to her room instead of listening to all the gruesome details.

  What better place for her to run? Garrett would never think she’d be foolish enough to go to a city facing such an outbreak. Hopefully, she’d be able to get a ship bound for France as quickly as possible now that she was more familiar with the waterfront area and there was no Bertrand to prevent her from doing so.

  If she succumbed to this disease, so much the better. Death seemed a welcomed blessing compared to Henri finding her. That would be a living hell on earth, one she didn’t think she could survive again, not since she’d known Garrett’s love and compassion.

  Madeleine busied herself the next few days with the necessary preparations to make her way from Stanbury to London. It was hard to keep a serene appearance but she’d become skilled in her playacting and could hide her true mood. She thanked the Virgin daily for the business that kept Garrett away from Stanbury for several days, unsure she could have hidden her anxiety from him.

  While keeping up her lessons with Lyssa and spending time with Edith, Madeleine found a purse in which to place the coins she’d collected from the guests who’d rewarded her for her storytelling. The one thing she regretted was that she’d need to take one of Garrett’s horses. Walking to London was well beyond her endurance. Her injuries had healed remarkably, though, thanks to the immediate attention they’d received but it would be impossible to make it the many miles to London by foot. She decided to leave one of her pieces of jewelry in exchange for the horse she must take. Perhaps the brooch from Lady Sanvale would do. Garrett had told her he was fond of the dowager countess.

  Her biggest problem was how to get the animal outside the walls without drawing attention. To that end, she went exploring and after a diligent hunt, located Stanbury’s sally port. As before, the door was practically hidden by vegetation. She would use the sally port for her escape.

  Madeleine decided to engage Coster’s help with this part of her plan. Though married and true to his wife, the man was batty over her and a bit simple. Though she’d never traded on her looks, this time, an exception must be made.

  Later that day, she waylaid Coster in the outer bailey. “How are you today, my fine gallant?”

  He broke out in a huge grin at her friendly greeting. “I’m having a fine day, Madeleine.”

  She cast her eyes down and shuffled glumly. “I wish I could say the same.”

  “Something’s wrong, Madeleine?”

  She raised her head, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Coster, I’m so upset. It’s my mother. Oh, but you wouldn’t understand.” She turned to walk away, knowing he’d scurry after her, which he did.

  “What’s wrong with your mum?”

  “I’m very worried about her. She’s all alone, down Sussex way. She must be terribly anxious that I haven’t returned home by now.” Madeleine paused, trying to gauge his reaction. He did appear concerned, so she continued. “I would be home already if I’d stayed with Farley’s troupe since they always disband for the winter. She must be frantic, what with her only child missing.”

  Coster scratched his head. “How can I help you? Say the word and I’ll make it happen, Madeleine.” The servant stretched to his full height, his chest ready to burst with pride in coming to her aid.

  “I would like to borrow one of Lord Montayne’s mounts and ride to see her.” She batted her lashes for good measure and placed a hand on his arm. “Do you think you could help me?”

  Worry filled his eyes. “Have you asked the earl’s permission?”

  “No,” she said quietly.

  Coster shook his head. “It’s not a good idea. There’s danger on the road—robbers and thieves and mongrels—just waiting to eat up a pretty morsel like you.”

  “Oh, Coster,” she cried, “I must go! I love my mother more than anyone in this world. I need to see her.” Madeleine let her tears flow freely.

  He patted her on the back. “There, now, Coster will help you. Tell me what needs to be done and ’twill get done.”

  Madeleine had learned that Henri would arrive midmorning the next day, shortly after Garrett himself would return. If she could leave after the castle bedded down tonight, more than likely she would not be missed until she was asked to entertain tomorrow night. That would be more than enough of a head start.

  She told him where
to tie the horse and placed in his palm the brooch that Lady Sanvale had given to her. “I am trusting you to hold this for me, Coster, for safekeeping. Only if it becomes absolutely necessary are you to tell Lord Montayne I borrowed his horse and you’re not to tell him where I’ve gone, for I don’t wish to worry him.”

  Patting his arm, she said, “Of course, I plan to return to Stanbury and bring his horse back safely, but in the event something should go wrong, you may give him the brooch as payment.”

  Madeleine could tell even the unworldly Coster was none too sure of this plan but she believed he would carry it through for her.

  “Be thinking of what tale you’d like to hear when I return. I will tell it especially in your honor.”

  He seemed to like this idea a good deal. “Do you suppose it could be a song instead?”

  Madeleine laughed. “Whatever you ask for, Coster. If it’s a song you want, I’ll be thinking it up on the road between here and Sussex.”

  Coster smiled broadly. “Make it a song then, Madeleine. A very good one.”

  *

  Henri de Picassaret arrived shortly before the midday meal. Garrett had arrived from the south only minutes before. He’d wanted to see Madeleine briefly but de Picassaret was not a man to be kept waiting. He hurried outside to greet the French nobleman and did his best to hide his shock as de Picassaret dismounted. The comte faced him and Garrett took in how the man had declined since their last meeting. The Frenchman had lost a good bit a weight. His eyes sank so far into his skull that he looked like a walking corpse.

  Knowing his duty as a host, however, Garrett greeted him warmly. “Comte de Picassaret, I welcome you to Stanbury.”

  Henri nodded his head curtly in return. “We have much to discuss, Lord Montayne.”

  Garrett agreed. “First, though, let us dine. We’ll have the entire afternoon in which to conduct our business. Cook has planned an elegant meal for tonight in your honor and I’ll provide special entertainment for you afterward.”

  “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, my lord,” Henri said as he followed Garrett into the keep.