Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  And to heal people.

  Isabel wondered, as she sometimes did, what her life would have been had she arrived safely on that fateful journey she took when she was just a little girl. But her new life in St Jean de Cole was nothing short of an unexpected blessing.

  Her life was simple and uncomplicated compared to what it could have been. And even though she had to work hard, it was a blessing that she could enjoy the relative freedom she had. But it was more than that…

  She felt safe here.

  Initially, Isabel had hoped and prayed that her father would eventually come for her at the convent of Abbaye aux Dames all those years ago. He had promised to do so if something had gone awry on the journey, as it eventually had. He had said that he would come, find her and take her home, but he never had. She had been abandoned, her prayers never answered.

  And while her father hadn’t come for her, neither had the people who still plagued her dreams after all these years. People who had wanted her dead, and possibly still would, if they knew she was alive.

  Ah, but it didn’t matter now. Life was good in St Jean de Cole, where she did indeed feel safe and confident no one would find or hurt her again. She had made sure of that. Even going to the trouble of concealing her given name from everyone she met, including her adopted family.

  She lifted her head and smiled when she saw a tall, handsome young man hobbling towards her. ‘Good day to you, Ralph.’

  ‘Well met, Adela.’ He grinned as he came up to her. ‘Can I help carry your basket into the village square?’

  Isabel shook her head slowly and returned his smile, knowing as always that it was for her own protection that she had used her mother’s name instead of her own…even after all this time.

  ‘Goodness, no. What would Sibylla say if she knew that, after all our hard work, you’d now overexerted yourself on this particular day?’

  A spark of annoyance crossed his one good eye, the other still bandaged. ‘I’m getting stronger and, while I am for ever in your debt for your ministrations and your care, I’m not an invalid.’

  Isabel pulled his sleeve gently. ‘You know that I’m only teasing you.’

  Ralph rubbed his brow and sighed. ‘Forgive me, that was uncalled for, especially after everything you have done for me, but sometimes, ah, but sometimes… I’m frustrated at how slowly everything is progressing. My damned inadequacy.’

  Isabel thought back to early spring, when a few locals had found the lone injured man, unconscious in the forest. It hadn’t been easy, but together with Sibylla’s knowledge and Isabel’s care, perseverance and dogged determination, they had patiently nursed him back to health. Having suffered such a severe head injury, his memory had been patchy, only retaining scant details, such as his name and knowing that a faded purple ribbon, which he had in his possession, was of great importance to him. His face, too, had been badly scarred on one side by some weaponry or another.

  ‘Time, Ralph, and patience are what is needed. I’m hopeful that all will be well for you soon.’

  ‘I like your optimism.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘And I thank you for it, Adela. You’ve been a good friend to me. I hope to see you at the feast later.’ He nodded his farewell and walked on, leaving Isabel speechless. She dropped the basket on the ground, her finger tips grazing her cheek.

  The truth was that Isabel had revelled in the challenge and difficulty in helping heal Ralph’s injuries. Her natural obstinacy wouldn’t allow him to fade away as he very nearly had.

  He had to live.

  He had to be saved.

  Just as a young boy with friendly blue eyes had once saved her… A young boy whom she had always given thanks for at prayers, even after all these years. Isabel hoped, as she always did, that the pendant she had gifted him had brought him some measure of protection and that he had made a success of his life.

  Isabel had been glad that she in turn had been able to help save another, just like her blue-eyed saviour. Well, not save exactly, but certainly help in his recovery.

  She touched her cheek again and sighed.

  Now, if she could get her many errands done expediently and get ready in time, she would get to enjoy the feast. This was possibly shaping up to be a good day after all…

  * * *

  And, possibly, it was not!

  Isabel’s assistance had been much in demand, from helping set up in the market square to cleaning the church before Vespers. Now, after getting ready in haste, hoping she looked presentable, she was finally heading towards the market square, long after her family had gone. Oh, for goodness sake, if she didn’t hurry, she’d miss the whole thing!

  She rushed down the narrow, cobbled street, greeting and smiling at passers-by, holding on to the floral headdress and sheer veil attached loosely to her head, hoping not to lose all of the flowers she had haphazardly woven through her hair.

  Isabel finally emerged out of the shadows into the big expanse of the village square. Ah, but it looked beautiful with the sun setting beneath the hillside, casting a warm amber glow over their festivities. Sky-blue shutters opened invitingly, with vibrant coloured geraniums peppered across the windowsills and creepers with small white flowers trailed up the stone walls of the buildings enclosing the open space.

  To one side was the covered market space, which had been temporarily transformed with a long line of trestle tables groaning with the bountiful harvest of late summer. The outside stone columns holding up the large roof were festooned with garlands of bright summer blooms draped from the top to the other side of the square, creating a sublime, colourful canopy of flowers.

  It seemed her efforts had been worth it after all. The whole village was there, laughing, chatting, eating and enjoying the merriment. Soon there would be music and even a little dancing. Perhaps the estampie dance that was gaining in popularity and hadn’t—thankfully—been frowned upon by the church.

  Isabel smiled as she caught a glimpse of Ralph sitting with Heloise and her many other admirers. She sighed and bit her lip. Really, though, it was hardly Heloise’s fault that she attracted the attention she did.

  Ralph caught her gaze, and returned her smile as he got up to limp towards her.

  ‘Well, it seems you have finally arrived,’ he said as he reached her side.

  ‘It seems I finally have,’ she chuckled. ‘Although you make it sound as though I chose to be this late.’

  ‘Adela, I’m fully aware of your contribution to this feast, unlike some who merely just attend.’

  ‘Ah, but some of us live to work while others are born to…to…’

  ‘Be idle?’ he concluded, raising his brow. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re finally here.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  Isabel scanned the area, taking in the happy convivial mood, when something—or rather someone—caught her interest. It was not just that the man who stood in the shadows in the corner of the square was a stranger. No, it was also the way the man was staring at her sister. Where had he come from and what did he want here in St Jean de Cole?

  ‘Ralph, do you know who that man is over there?’

  He turned around and narrowed his eyes. ‘No idea. He’s probably a reveller who has heard how good the feasts are here. Come, let’s go and sit with Heloise and the others.’

  ‘You go on. I’ll be there in a moment.’

  Isabel moved towards the covered area, grabbing a juicy red apple on the way, but all the while keeping a close eye on the stranger. There was something about him that was oddly familiar, yet she knew she had never laid eyes on him before. She watched with curiosity as the old bald man he was speaking to presented him to her parents. Her interest getting the better of her, Isabel meandered close, but remained inconspicuous, wondering what on earth the handsome yet exceptionally sullen man wanted.

  Whatever had been said must have been of some
significance as her parents looked somewhat anxious. Even more astonishing, Heloise had been hastily fetched to their side.

  How strange that Isabel had not been called to join with their discussion, but then, whatever it was might not actually concern her. The stranger spoke to Heloise, who lifted her fingers to her lips in shock, but seemed delighted at whatever had been said.

  Ah…another suitor. That explained everything.

  Isabel smiled, shaking her head at her silly worries, and was about to move away when she noticed something that almost made her stumble and fall.

  The stranger was still in discussion with Heloise and her family and had pulled out a leather cord from under his clothing. A leather cord that had a diamond lozenge-shaped silver and ruby pendant dangling at the end of it.

  She recognised it immediately.

  It was the same pendant that she had given to the young boy who had saved her life twelve years ago. The same pendant that she had a duplicate of, but never wore in St Jean de Cole for fear of exposure. It was her family’s heirloom, which meant, of course, that the stranger, the man who was at that moment talking to her family, might possibly be William Geraint. Unless, of course, he was an enemy? Someone who had taken the pendant from William?

  No, it had to be him…no one else knew she was still alive nor that she could possibly live here.

  She had to be cautious…

  It could be that her father had finally wanted her back or that he was intent on sending Isabel to her betrothed again, as he had planned all those years ago.

  When she had been sent at such a tender age to live with her betrothed and his family, she had not expected to marry the man until she was older. Well, she was certainly old enough now. And the one man who could possibly find her after all this time was here—if it really was him. Either way, she had no idea whether he was friend or foe.

  Her instinct was to find out if the stranger was William Geraint and welcome him here, since she could never forget what he had done for her. But no, that was not a good idea.

  Isabel watched with incredulity as she realised that the man must have assumed that Heloise was in fact her. It was frustrating that even when people were sent specifically in search of her, she was still overlooked. William Geraint, or whoever the stranger was, really wasn’t to know, but was Isabel so inconsequential, so invisible, just as she had been as a child to her real family, to her real father?

  Well, just because her father suddenly wanted her found to resume her duties after twelve long years, it didn’t mean she had to go back, did it?

  No…

  She certainly did not want to give up her precious freedom, but, more importantly, she dreaded having to face the dangers from her past. A past that she hoped would never find her.

  Yet it, apparently, had.

  Isabel could not leave the feast yet as her early departure might be remarked upon. No, she had to behave in her usual, customary manner and not give rise to any suspicion and pray that this stranger would leave once he was satisfied that she was not here. The stranger who was possibly William Geraint…

  The boy who had once saved her life.

  * * *

  Will pinched the bridge of his nose and expelled a breath in frustration.

  Not again.

  He seemed to have reached another impasse. There was something wrong here, just as there had been at every place the trail had led to, where every other young woman had tried to convince him that they were indeed the lost lady.

  Just like this woman before him.

  He didn’t know what it was, but something about Heloise Meunier didn’t feel genuine.

  Damn!

  He had been so hopeful that in this little village he would finally find Lady Isabel de Clancey after months of searching, but again he had hit a wall. A very beautiful and attractive wall…but a wall, nevertheless. And yet he was obliged to find out for certain.

  ‘Forgive me, but if you are the Lady Isabel, why do you not remember anything that happened when I rescued you?’

  ‘It was all such a trying experience. I must have blocked it out,’ Heloise said, sniffing and placing her hand over her forehead.

  ‘I would have thought it was a little more “harrowing” than “trying”,’ he said, narrowing his gaze. ‘Surely you remember something?’

  ‘My memory is not so good and, as you say, it had been such a harrowing experience!’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said in a flat voice.

  ‘All I remember was your kindness, messere, in taking me to Abbaye aux Dames and that, after a few years, I came to the local priory here and from there to the family who looked after me—the Meuniers.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘But I have always known that you’d come back for me, messere. I have always known that I was special,’ Heloise said, fluttering her eyelashes. ‘That I would lead a life different to the one that was thrust upon me.’

  Hell’s teeth!

  No. This girl could not be the little girl Will remembered. She was another pretender, just like the others.

  He shook his head absently. God, but he was tired after the long journey in search of Lady Isabel, which was frankly going nowhere. This commission, which he hadn’t particularly wanted, but was nevertheless drawn to, was beginning to take its toll after many long months in the summer heat. He had continually examined the reason why he had eventually agreed to take it on, because it certainly wasn’t just the silver.

  No, it was more than that. It was a way to appease his conscience about a scared little girl whom he had been forced to leave at a monastery many years ago, when he was just a boy. He had often thought about her in the intervening years, hoping that she had somehow survived against the odds.

  The search had been arduous, but he’d also had to endure the ignominy of being followed from La Rochelle—in all likelihood by Rolleston’s men.

  Damn their impudence but, whoever they were, Will had made sure that he lost them.

  It wasn’t like Will to admit defeat, but he had to concede the lost heiress might possibly have eluded him. He had visited the Abbaye aux Dames, the convent that Father Clement had said he would take the young girl to, but they hadn’t kept any record of the girl and his aimless search for her had continued with only false leads.

  This, apparently, was another.

  The mother was still talking. ‘Yes, cherie, very special. That’s why we took you…well, both of you,’ she said, nodding her head.

  Will lifted his head. ‘What did you just say, madame?’

  ‘Well, that we…we took both girls.’

  That got his attention. ‘Both, you say?’

  ‘Yes, both Heloise and… Adela.’

  Adela? Adela was the name of Lady Isabel de Clancey’s mother.

  Interesting…

  ‘And exactly where could I find Adela? Is…is your other daughter here tonight?’ he said impassively, not betraying his curiosity.

  ‘I believe so, although my eyesight is extremely poor. Heloise, have you seen your sister?’

  ‘No, and I’m not sure I understand your interest in my sister, messere.’

  ‘Quite.’ Will darted his gaze back to the busy square, which was now crowded with many more people. He turned and inclined his head. ‘I bid you a good evening and I hope we can continue this discourse on the morrow.’

  ‘I look forward to it, messere,’ the girl said and inclined her head in return, but Will had already walked away.

  Well, now… Adela?

  Could it be her…? Could it be Lady Isabel de Clancey?

  He knew it was wishful thinking on his part—he wanted to be done with this commission so he could get back to his solitary life—but this seemed more than just a coincidence.

  He shuffled along, nodding and smiling at the villagers who returned his greetings reservedly.
Will stopped next to a young girl leaning against the edge of the stone column, clapping along to the music that had started to play. She turned and gave him a pensive smile.

  ‘Apologies, little one, but have you seen Adela? Only her mother doesn’t know if she has arrived at the feast and wouldn’t want her to miss it.’

  ‘Oh, yes, she’s arrived.’ She giggled. ‘Adela is there dancing.’

  Will swung around in the direction the little girl had pointed.

  ‘My thanks, little maid.’

  He walked towards the group assembled in the dance and watched on the sideline of the area, surveying each young woman who passed him.

  He hoped that this time he’d found her. That one of the women among the dancers was her…

  Will edged closer and closer to them before an opening for him was made. He was ushered to join them, since they were a man short for the estampie dance. Good. Now he could interact with each of the dozen or so young women and find out if ‘Adela’ really was, in fact… Lady Isabel de Clancey.

  * * *

  Good grief!

  It was an unmitigated disaster to have remained at the feast. Isabel should have left the moment she had laid eyes on the stranger and now he was dancing the estampie with them. She hoped that if she kept her head low and avoided making eye contact with him, he would move on somewhere else. But every time she caught his gaze, he was looking at her in a shockingly open manner, scrutinising everything. She felt her cheeks getting warm.

  Isabel tried to diffuse the tension in her body and act nonchalantly, even nodding at him with civility, but she was all too aware of him: his height, his broad shoulders, his powerful presence and raw masculinity. There was something about him that sent a frisson of awareness through her.

  She circled around him, noticing that his demeanour and physical bearing of a honed and skilled warrior seemed at odds with the fluid, graceful moves of the group dance. She pushed down her apprehension as she moved next to him again. The best thing to do was to continue the dance without giving a hint of whom she was and then to slip away afterwards.