Everlasting

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Upon nearing the landing, Vachel was taken aback when he espied the Scotsman sitting with his back braced against the far wall. “Why are you here?”

  Raven pushed himself to his feet with a single, graceful movement. “Desmond de Marlé took it inta his head ta force himself on your daughter.”

  Vachel’s heart went cold with dread. “Is she all right? Did he do anything to her?” Though reluctant to ask and have his suspicions confirmed, he had to know the truth. “Has the girl been…sullied?”

  “She would’ve been had I not been there ta send the rat scurrying off ta his hole,” Raven replied. “I told your wife that I’d watch till your return. Although ye’ll likely be thinking ’tis none of my concern, ye need ta watch over your family whilst that filthy toad is in the area…just ta keep them safe.”

  Vachel needed no one, especially a stranger, telling him that he had seriously erred by leaving his family alone. His frustration during the evening had risen to an intolerable degree when he had seen the very same lords who had courted Abrielle now after the scent of richer quarry. His guilt for not being there to protect her caused him to wonder if he wasn’t deserving of the situation in which he presently found himself. Even so, in the mood he was in, he found it difficult to accept the Scotsman’s counsel. “I can take care of my family well enough without your interference.”

  In response to this less-than-gracious remark by Abrielle’s parent, Raven only arched a dark brow, then bowed and took his leave of Vachel.

  Deeply ashamed by his earlier lack of caution in seeing to the welfare of his family, Vachel turned his back and stepped through the door.

  Elspeth was anxiously pacing about their chambers, awaiting his return as he stepped through the portal. Sobbing in relief, she flew into his arms. “I thought you’d never return!”

  “Tell me what happened,” Vachel urged, feeling her trembling against him, and she did so, her voice shaky, ending with these words: “I am so grateful the Scotsman was guarding our door until you returned, for there is no telling what Desmond might have done had he found us here alone.”

  “The despicable actions of that beast have clearly upset you, Elspeth, with reason, but I cannot imagine that coward Desmond being brave enough to force his way…”

  Elspeth’s ire rose. “Do you think I make too much of his assault upon my daughter?” she demanded, her eyes flashing with sudden ire. “I tell you, Vachel, that despicable man will not rest until he has violated Abrielle. Indeed, he was intent upon doing that foul deed this very evening. If not for the Scotsman’s interference, he would have ravished her.”

  “I apologize for leaving you and Abrielle alone,” Vachel replied in humble tones. “Obviously this incident would never have happened had I stayed here with you, but there’s nothing I can say or do now that will rectify that matter.” He heaved a laborious sigh. “If you don’t mind, I’ve had very little sleep since I came here, and I’m very tired at the moment. Perhaps we can continue this discussion on the morrow.”

  Seeing vivid evidence of his dispirited dejection, Elspeth took pity on him as she rubbed his arm. “Let’s not quarrel. I’m sure in time something better will come our way. We need only wait.”

  ABRIELLE LAY ON her bed, listening to the muted voices of her parents. She could not hear the words, but she understood the emotions, for she, too, experienced the bitter depths of them. Her trembling had finally eased, but she kept playing the terrible attack over and over in her mind, remembering the loathsome feel of Desmond’s hand on her innocent flesh.

  And then her feeling of grateful relief when Raven had stormed into the chamber, his face a mask of cold fury. She would be forever grateful for his timeliness in coming to her aid and forever in awe of how effortlessly he had dealt with the loathsome Desmond. But she felt something else, too, something more, and somewhere deep inside, she mistrusted her own feelings, for her gratitude felt too much like desire.

  God above, every time she saw Raven Seabern, a part of her yearned for him. What was happening to her? Were despair and distress making her mind vulnerable to her basest impulses? Why could she not see Raven and feel only simple gratitude? After all, he’d only rescued her and guarded their chambers out of duty. He’d spent the evening avoiding her except when they were forced to dance, as if she were beneath his notice now that her family circumstances had changed. He was a Scot, for heaven’s sake, looked on with suspicion by all she knew, and yet her treacherous body yearned for him, as a woman yearned for a man.

  A MONTH HAD passed since the event honoring the Saxon heroes of the Crusades had been held at Westminster Castle. Since then, Abrielle’s thoughts had returned fairly often to Raven Seabern and the troubling emotions he had awakened within her. As much as his brilliant blue eyes, leanly chiseled nose, and the charmingly wayward grin had evoked her interest, she was unable to ignore the distressing situation in which their small family presently found itself. What they were now facing would likely force her to make a decision that she would despise for the rest of her life. She couldn’t blame her stepfather for the concern he had shown for his men and his father upon his return home from the tumultuous conflicts raging in foreign lands. Willaume had been the one who had gone back on his word by not returning the funds that Vachel had so kindly permitted him to use before his death or mentioning them in a statement to be read after that event. Even now, Vachel was unwilling to condemn his parent as he offered the excuse that Willaume hadn’t been thinking too clearly before his death. Unfortunately, because the elder had failed to consider or remember the funds that Vachel had extended to him in an effort to restore his flagging wealth, the latter was now faced with ruin. Vachel’s only chance to escape impoverishment was now in Abrielle’s hands, and the decision she made would affect all of their lives, but most especially hers.

  Desmond de Marlé had approached Vachel and asked for Abrielle’s hand in marriage, and now she stood in her stepfather’s private solar, facing the two people she loved above all else, knowing they loved her and grieved for her decision, but they let her have her peace while she paced and thought.

  Desmond had offered a sizable stipend to be paid for Abrielle’s hand upon the execution of the agreement, plus guarantees in writing that upon his death she would inherit most of what he owned except for another stipend to her stepfather and to Desmond’s nephew. Although Desmond had been Weldon’s half brother and had barely known his lordship, he had been Weldon’s only heir. That fact had served to make Desmond an immensely wealthy man upon his lordship’s death, so rich that he could now afford to be generous if it meant he’d be getting what he had been yearning for since first espying Abrielle in the company of her parents at Weldon’s keep. Abrielle couldn’t help wondering why, if there was a nephew in the family, he had not inherited anything from Weldon, who had been a generous man.

  Little had Desmond realized when he had offered to buy his bride just how close Vachel was to ruin. As it stood now, all the latter had to do to replenish his coffers was to accept Desmond’s request for Abrielle’s hand in marriage. Unfortunately, the squire’s proposition failed to assuage the rapidly mounting qualms of all three members of the family, perhaps Vachel most of all, because the girl would be giving up all hope of marrying someone she loved in order to save the family for which he was responsible. He could not be the one to take her future from her.

  Elspeth’s elegant brows gathered in fretting concern as she watched her husband pacing about. “Vachel, I know we are desperate…” she began, but the look on his face forestalled her frantic pleading. She instead approached her husband and rested a gentle hand upon his arm, caressing it unconsciously. Although she was aware that he could be obstinate at times, she had little doubt that she had made the right choice when she had accepted his proposal of marriage. As far as his tendency to make decisions contrary to her preferences and wishes, it had recently dawned on her that she preferred to be challenged by one of his manly disposition and intellect rather than to be
bored to the marrow of her bones by another who might have readily complied with her smallest request. Although Berwin had considered her advice when she had offered it, he had not always followed it, as he had proven the day of his death. She had to believe there was some way out of their predicament without laying it all upon her daughter’s shoulders. To burden a young woman with the likes of Desmond de Marlé as her husband seemed a cruel blow indeed.

  Straightening to his full height, Vachel thrust out his meticulously bearded chin in vexation. Normally his amber eyes glowed with a mesmerizing radiance of their own, but at the moment they seemed as cold and lifeless as stone as he stared across the room. He could rally no hope for the future, knowing that his family faced nothing but bleakness unless he accepted Desmond’s offer.

  Elspeth knelt on the rush-covered floor beside her husband’s chair and folded her hands in her lap as she looked up into his frowning face. “Vachel, if you would please consider Desmond’s reputation, you would know that he isn’t a suitable husband for Abrielle.”

  “By all that’s holy, woman, what kind of a monster do you think me?” he demanded, distraught at the idea that she would think he would barter off her daughter to provide for their family. “I could never live with myself if I were to force Abrielle into such a union. That decision is entirely hers to accept or to reject, but please consider that Desmond now has all the wealth and lands that once belonged to Weldon, enough to guarantee that his offspring will never lack for riches and position. That’s more than I can say for that small league of suitors who’ve been wont to offer themselves since all at court learned of my low standing with the king. I’ve seen starving hounds drool less over a meaty bone than the besotted buffoons who slaver in lusting eagerness after your daughter. But then, you witnessed that very thing yourself before we were married, so I needn’t try to describe the zeal her admirers have been wont to evidence.”

  “Vachel, I understand how troubled you are by our dilemma,” Elspeth said in a quiet voice. No less distressed than he, she sought to find some ray of hope in a painfully dark future. “Do you know of anything else we can do to alter our present unfortunate state?”

  His laughter was brief and harsh. “I fear without the occurrence of some miracle, my dear, there is no hope.” Noticing the pooling of tears in his wife’s eyes, he heaved a sigh, quickly lamenting his callousness. “I fully understand Abrielle’s aversion to Desmond,” he stated. “’Tis no less than my own. Nevertheless, what he has recently offered appears to be our only hope. Although I will try to find a suitor more acceptable to all of us, I fear there is none who has as much wealth as Desmond now has. I truly wish we had some other choice.”

  Her mother’s sudden sob of despair wrenched Abrielle’s heart, and she turned aside in an effort to hide the rush of tears that quickly gathered in her own eyes. They streamed down her cheeks, forcing her to wipe them away surreptitiously. As much as she disdained Desmond, she could see no option open to her now but to accept his proposal of marriage. It was either that or see her loved ones suffer. Even so, if Desmond wanted her so much, then he would have to be willing to extend far more generous terms than he had thus far offered. If she were going to be miserable, then she would have to be generously compensated for having to endure that repugnant wretchedness.

  And after all, with no dowry, there was no guarantee that she could even find a worthy man to love her. And she shuddered at the thought that, without Vachel’s knights and the protection they offered, perhaps a man wouldn’t even feel the need to take her to wife.

  Approaching her parents, Abrielle managed a tremulous smile as she claimed her stepfather’s attention. In an effort to hide the fact that her hopes for happiness and a worthy future with a man whom she loved seemed to be dying beneath the grievous weight of the situation in which they presently found themselves, she tried to speak with some semblance of enthusiasm. “The choice is mine to make, and I will do what I must to help,” she stated, hating the quavering weakness that hindered her voice. “I cannot…will not allow our family to live in poverty…”

  “No!” Elspeth cried, thoroughly distraught by her daughter’s words. “We’ll find another way! Please…oh, please…no!”

  “I’ve decided there is nothing else that can be done,” Abrielle replied, steeling herself against her mother’s desperate pleading. Upon facing Vachel, whose dejected appearance evidenced a serious lack of relief, she quickly laid out her intentions. She had no real idea how Weldon had actually met his death, whether it had truly been an accident as had been supposed or if it had been carried out by design by the very one who had stood to inherit his wealth. Nevertheless, the premise seemed fairly simple to her that if Desmond wanted her so much, then he would likely be willing to pay a sizable sum…perhaps even a goodly portion of what had once belonged to her betrothed in order to get her. “Considering the vast riches that Weldon once had, I urge you to demand far more than Desmond may be willing to offer. I care naught for the fact that he may have been kin to Weldon. He isn’t deserving of anything that once belonged to his lordship.”

  “And if Desmond complies with all of your demands, what then?” Vachel asked, fully agreeing with her on all counts. Even so, the idea of such a dastardly man reaping so fine a bride left him feeling more than a little nauseous. Unfortunately, at the moment there seemed to be no other way for the family to survive.

  “Then I shall wed the man,” Abrielle replied with a serious lack of enthusiasm.

  Elspeth moaned in despair as she clasped a handkerchief over her mouth and stared at her daughter with a profusion of tears welling in her eyes.

  Vachel could not ignore his wife’s deepening dismay and was led to question Abrielle again as to the extent of her commitment to make such a sacrifice. “Your marriage to Desmond may be more horrible than you can imagine. I’ve been hearing rumors that have led me to believe that the man has been rather despicable to the serfs he recently inherited from Weldon. Once you exchange vows with him, you’ll no longer be able to dismiss him from your life. He will become a part of you…your spouse. You’ll have to conform to his way of life, his wishes, his demands, and with all seriousness, I must warn you that it may be more than you can imagine or will be able to tolerate in the future.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, the matter is already settled,” Abrielle replied, steeling herself against the fears he had evoked. “Desmond wants me for his wife, and that is what he shall have…for a sizable price. If I’m going to marry him, then it will be for no less than what I demand, so refrain from giving him the idea that he can haggle for my hand. When the price is sufficiently generous and you’re nearing the end of your negotiations, then you must seek my approval before the terms can be finalized, but you must not allow him to know that you intend to discuss them with me. As far as Desmond is concerned, I will have had nothing to do with the negotiations and it will be a matter that you will personally be deciding.”

  “Very wise,” Vachel replied, pursing his lips and nodding his head in approval. Clearly Abrielle had benefited from being so close to her late father, who’d permitted her to listen as he conducted his business affairs. “Very wise indeed. You will be absolved of all blame should he begin to resent the price he paid for you.”

  On any other occasion Abrielle would have smiled in pleasure at her stepfather’s praise, but she feared the bargain they would be making with Desmond was equivalent to forming an agreement with the devil himself, and the idea of that frightened her. “I may very well regret it all once the vows have been exchanged,” she admitted, trying to subdue a shiver at the thought of allowing the loathsome man to touch her, much less be intimate with her. “And if you could spare a few prayers for me, you might begin to offer them now lest I be tempted to run away and hide.”

  Although Vachel knew his wife was deeply distressed over what Abrielle was planning, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the girl’s willingness to sacrifice her own happiness for the family’s welfare
. Although his men had been disposed to risk their lives to fight alongside him in numerous conflicts, the like of which even now seemed to still be raging on that same foreign soil, they had always nurtured the hope that they would all survive and be the better for it. This thing that Abrielle was willing to do to save him from impoverishment was tantamount to tying herself forever to a hateful fiend whose first and subsequent thoughts were entirely for his own gratification.

  He knew what Abrielle had directed him to do was not to Elspeth’s liking, and yet, with Abrielle’s willingness to sacrifice her own happiness for them, he couldn’t help but feel as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his chest. As anxious as he had been to find some viable escape from his poverty, her proposal was to him as refreshing as a breath of fresh air to a smothering man.

  Vachel reached out and threaded his lean fingers through his wife’s as he peered at her. He tried to find some reason to be hopeful about the union. “Marrying Desmond de Marlé should make Abrielle a very rich woman,” he stated in a subdued tone. Receiving no encouraging response, he tried again. “Should Desmond expire, she’ll be able to choose another to meet her own admirable standards. It wouldn’t surprise me if a lofty title would be in the offing should she so desire it. Considering how wealthy she will likely be, she’ll be able to dictate her future as few women have ever done. She’ll want for nothing.”