There were so many things to see, so much to sample and enjoy, that she didn’t know where to look or what she should do first. Isabel had never really been exposed to anything like these festivities before—a wonderfully vibrant cacophony, a delight for the senses. There were long lines of trestle tables with meats, cheeses, plump berries, sweet breads and pastry from local villages, as well as kegs of ale and crisp cider from the north and sweet, fruity Aquitaine wine from the south.
Music blared, revellers danced in one area while troupes of troubadours with jongleurs and even death-defying fire-eaters were staged in another. The atmosphere of this colourful festival marked it as so different from anything she had ever seen before. Certainly different from anything in St Jean de Cole. The rowdy crowd was so congenial, welcoming and friendly that Isabel flitted from one place to another with a huge grin on her face as Will tried to keep up with her.
‘Isn’t this marvellous?’
‘It is certainly something,’ Will said wryly, crossing his arms over his broad chest as she bit her lip, choosing to ignore his lack of enthusiasm.
Jollity indeed!
‘Ah, mademoiselle, sample this here wine from the most superior vineyard in all the Kingdom of Aquitaine.’ A man pressed a cup into her hand of the ruby-coloured nectar with a wonderfully delicious scent. She took a big gulp and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Oh, and it was! It tasted of a deep, rich platter of summer berries and grapes.
‘Mmm, messere, this is indeed very fine.’
‘Well then have some more, cherie, have some more.’ The man sloshed more of the vintage into her cup.
Will stepped forward and muttered in her ear, ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’
She waved her hand, as if she were swatting an annoying fly. ‘Nonsense, Will. Where is your sense of fun?’
‘I left it back in England.’ He paid the vendor and started to guide Isabel away by her elbow. ‘Now come along.’
‘Don’t be such a miser.’ She twisted around as someone else shoved slivers of more delicious delicacies of local saucisson and ale in front of her.
‘Oh, Will, have some of this…oh, my goodness, the ale is divine.’
‘Thank you, but, no. I need my wits about me.’
Isabel tilted her head and studied him. ‘Oh, but who would need their wits at a time like this and in such a place as this?’
She continued to sample the fine food and delicious wine, hoping that it would somehow fill the emptiness she felt even in a place such as this. An emptiness that was far from being satisfied. The truth was that she hoped this diversion would somehow dull the ache that she still felt regarding the mother whom she longed to see, her father and brothers’ deaths, and her return to England and all that entailed. This was a much-needed balm for all of her troubles, or rather, she hoped it was.
Ah, but enough. She wanted to shake these thoughts out of her head.
She slipped her hand through Will’s bent arm and leant towards him. ‘Come, let’s drink and be merry, for we may not get another chance.’
He raised a brow. ‘That sounds ominous.’
‘You may hold on to those wits of yours, but I for one, intend to enjoy myself.’ She raised a finger and wagged it in the air. ‘And I must say that it would be far more gratifying if I were not doing it on my own.’
She turned to face Will, saw that he was struggling not to smile and her breath caught. The man’s face and jaw were such sharp planes that she itched to run her raised finger across the smooth angular surface to see if she would cut herself. And now he was looking at her so peculiarly, with those deep, deep blue eyes that she felt strangely warm.
Oh…oh, dear. Isabel had a sudden urge to lean up and press a kiss on those gorgeous lips of his.
She exhaled, moving away, and grabbed another cup of wine. What was the matter with her? She swallowed a big gulp. What was she thinking? She looked down at the cup and swirled the red liquid around. Could it be that she had drunk too much wine? Possibly, she thought, as she drained the rest too quickly, making her cough.
Will smiled softened as he gently patted her back ‘You see. This is why I need my wits about me.’
‘Of course, to play escort and nursemaid,’ she said between coughing. ‘To an unruly woman, like me? I pity you.’
‘I don’t need your pity, my lady.’
‘Well, then, you should pity me, Just Will. I’m a hopeless case.’
‘No, you’re a little inebriated, that’s all.’
‘That’s all?’ She raised a brow and looked at him. ‘Not a good thing for a supposed lady like me?’
‘You not a lady tonight, remember?’ he whispered beside her.
She shrugged, taking another sip.
Oh, she remembered, and that was why she was having such inappropriate thoughts about kissing William Geraint. Living as Adela, the miller’s daughter, she had never had any notions of kissing anyone before, except for the few times when a few young men had dared to steal kisses off her. It had never been this way around, but then again, she had never drunk this much ale and wine before, had she? Oh, God, but her head hurt just thinking about all of this.
‘You’re right, I’m just Plain Isabel tonight after all.’
‘Precisely, and there’s nothing wrong with it as long as you’re prepared for a hell of an ache in your head tomorrow.’
She threw him a sideways glance and saw he was enjoying this. ‘We weren’t going to talk about tomorrow, remember?’
‘A thousand pardons.’ He chuckled softly, shaking his head as they walked along. ‘And, Isabel?’
‘Yes?’
He smiled in that knowing way of his that made her stomach flutter. ‘There’s nothing plain about you.’
Isabel swallowed uncomfortably, feeling a little off kilter as if the very air she breathed had stilled altogether. Lifting her head, she gazed wistfully into the fathomless blue of his eyes, before Will gave himself a little shake and looked away. Oh, God, how mortifying. Here he was being nice and all she could do was notice him in a totally unseemly way.
She had hoped that this night might provide a respite from constantly reassessing her situation, but now she had this unbecoming awareness of her very tall, very attractive escort with eyes she wanted to drown in.
She shouldn’t be noticing Will in this way. She shouldn’t notice how the taut muscles of his arms and chest filled the linen tunic and the way the dark brown braes shaped the bulging muscles on his legs and she definitely shouldn’t notice how large and looming he was, or the warmth where he touched her lightly on her elbow.
Oh, God, there must be something wrong with her. She glanced into the cup she was clutching, knowing she must have drunk too much and then looked back up again, swaying slightly as she met his quizzical eyes, pondering how she should diffuse this situation.
But really there was no need, not when she could embarrass herself further with a sudden onslaught of uncontrollable hiccups. Oh, but if the earth could just swallow her up at this very moment.
* * *
The woman was drunk!
Isabel de Clancey was Will’s responsibility and it was his fault that she had consumed as much wine as she had. Of course, her uncertainty about her changed circumstances explained her rather erratic mood swings, as well as the necessity for the imposed enjoyment of this night—the chance of which Isabel believed she’d not have again.
There was something sad about that belief—there was something sad about Isabel de Clancey’s outlook on life altogether. He might have a feeling of uneasiness about a woman of Isabel’s standing being in such a crowded, raucous and, not to mention, visible place, but Will didn’t have the heart to deny her this night. He could understand this need for release—he could understand it far too well…
It was more than that, though. Will could not help but be
drawn to her—she was warm and endearing, possessing a quiet, determined strength which was as admirable as it was attractive. He had to admit that he liked her company, her quick wit, her open manner and lack of artifice. She had no idea of her appeal or of her allure, which for a world-weary man, used to the contrivances at court, was both surprising and beguiling.
But when he looked into those wistful and expressive eyes of hers, he saw something else there. An awareness of him and even a little desire, judging by the way her gaze kept dropping to his lips.
God! That would not be the sort of release that would help her situation.
It was certainly the wine that had put those amorous notions into her head. It was just as well that he had chosen to have his wits about him because it really wouldn’t do to court that kind of trouble, however appealing Isabel might be. He really didn’t need to add more complications to his already complicated life.
Will watched her from the corner of his eye as she tried to cover her mouth with her hand while continuing to hiccup and something inside him shifted. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he shook his head absently. It really was difficult trying to be detached yet deferential, with their boundaries clearly defined. In fact, it was damned impossible.
The hiccupping became louder the more Isabel tried to stop. Her face was now infused with a particularly interesting shade of pink.
‘Can I be of service, Isabel? Would you like me to fetch something that could help remedy your…ah, problem?’
‘No, thank you,’ she retorted between another fit of hiccups, as though nothing was wrong. ‘I’m…hic…absolutely…hic…fine.’
‘Try holding your breath while pinching your nose,’ he said from the side of his mouth. ‘That was always my mother’s advice.’
She looked as though she were torn between attempting his suggestion or pretending that everything was well, but eventually she relented and stood there doing as he advised.
‘It’s not working,’ she said as she held on to her nose while sucking in a gulp of air a few times.
He grinned. ‘Try again.’
She looked sceptical, but attempted it again. ‘This isn’t your…hic…idea of fun, perchance?’
He swallowed down the laughter bubbling inside and held out his hands, open palmed. ‘On my honour, it is not.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ She hiccupped. ‘Because I’d hate to…hic…look even more ridiculous…hic…than I already do.’
His eyes fell on jugs of local spring water on a trestle table they were passing. He poured some into a cup and pressed it into her hand.
Isabel nodded her thanks and took a couple of sips as they continued to amble along aimlessly.
They had by now drifted towards the outer edge of the area—the liveliest by far, with a different type of energy emanating from the dancing couples and rowdy music. On one side it petered out into the darkness of the woods, where the couples could stray if they were bent on more lascivious pursuits.
Isabel turned abruptly to face him. ‘Dance…hic…with me, Will?’
‘What? No, this is not the same as anything you’re used to.’
The jig was as unsuitably unrefined as it was frenetic.
‘Good, now come.’ She grabbed his hand. ‘This jumping around and flinging your partner about may be just what is…hic…required to get rid these horrid hiccups. And that’s what my mother would have advised.’
‘Isabel, this really is not a good idea.’
But it was too late. She had already pulled him into the middle, trying to drag him along to the jig while clutching his hand.
Well, now he had two choices. He could either keep pace with her or let go of her hand and watch another man claim her. Will chose the former, but knew instantly that this was a bad idea. He could feel it in his bones.
They skipped together around the circle of people, alternating and criss-crossing between each dancer until they came back around to face each other, clapping and twirling. Will placed his hands either side of Isabel’s small waist and lifted her in the air before setting her back down in front of him, trying to disregard the soft curves he could feel through the layers of clothing. God, he must not allow his mind to wander into dangerous waters like this.
He gave her a friendly smile, instead ‘Any better?’
‘I think so,’ she said, relieved, but then proceeded to hiccup again. ‘Oh, dear…hic… I spoke too soon.’
The dance repeated again and they were separated once more. Will would wager that it had become even more crowded than moments before and it was now more difficult keeping an eye on the woman. He caught glimpses of Isabel, but his vision was constantly blocked by groups of the dancers who had splintered off from the main circle.
Damn. He darted his gaze in every direction, but couldn’t see her. This was very strange.
The hairs on the back of his arm rose as he sensed that there was something not right here. He could feel it in his marrow. Will turned his head in every direction, hoping he could locate Isabel. But, no, she was no longer part of the dance. In fact, Will couldn’t see her at all.
Hell’s teeth!
He marched towards the outer edge of the area, near the woods, and nodded at a man standing by watching and cheering the dancing, his heart hammering in his chest.
‘Did you see a young woman, this height—’ he motioned with his hand ‘—with a cream-coloured veil, green woollen dress and carrying a leather satchel across her front?’
‘Possibly, friend, and possibly not.’ The man shrugged as Will clenched his teeth.
He held out a silver coin. ‘You better make sure you do know, friend, so which is it?’
The man shrugged, grabbing the coin. ‘She left with two men.’
‘Where did they go?’ he hissed through his teeth.
‘Through the woods, there.’ The man indicated to one side. ‘Mind your woman better next time. There are many wolves in these here parts.’
That, he knew…
Will broke out into a run, his senses heightened with the possibility of imminent danger. God, but he should have trusted his senses about being in a place like this. Hadn’t he, himself, been followed several times during his search for the lady? But why now, when he had found her? Probably so the obsequious rat, Rolleston, didn’t have to pay his due.
Will would have to think further about that later. All that mattered was finding Isabel and making sure she was unharmed. Anger coursed through him as he drew his sword from its scabbard. This would not have happened had he been more vigilant, more careful. This was his fault.
He prowled through the woods stealthily, looking in every direction, when he suddenly heard a high-pitched scream.
Isabel!
Will raced towards the direction the scream came from before coming to a halt and crouching low, spying three figures in the darkness. One of the men was tying Isabel’s hands together while the other was trying to gag her. Will assessed the area quickly, making sure the assailants had no other accomplices, before pouncing on one of them, catching the man off guard. Almost casually he delivered a swift punch, knocking him to the ground.
He flicked a quick glance at Isabel. ‘Are you unharmed?’
‘Yes, and I’m so happy to see you.’ She winced. ‘Watch out, Will!’ she cried as the man he had brought down was back on his feet and was about attack him with a knife from behind. The other one was still holding tightly on to Isabel.
With just a few deft moves, Will had unarmed and rendered his opponent unconscious with a sharp jab and devastating blow, while Isabel and the other attacker gawped at his skills. The man’s hold must have slackened momentarily, as Isabel swung her elbows back to hit him directly in the stomach to aid her escape. But that just emboldened the bastard to yank her back by her hair.
Will turned his attention, his gaze fixed
only on the man holding on to Isabel.
‘Let her go now and I might allow you to hold on to your life.’
The man snarled. ‘See, this is what we’re going to do—you’re going turn around and go, while I take this wench to people who want her more than you.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Will said, pointing his sword at the man, the tip close to his face. ‘I am going to count to ten and you will let her go.’
The man grunted from behind Isabel, pulling her closer.
‘Five, then… One, two…’ Will moved forward, pushing the assailant back slowly, while assessing the uneven surface of the ground ‘…three, four…you’re running out of time.’
‘Wait.’ The man blustered, but it was too late. Will had astutely manoeuvred the man to where the path suddenly dipped low. Before the assailant knew what had happened, Will had spun around and was just there, by his side, the tip of the blade pressed against his neck.
‘Five,’ Will’s voice rumbled in his ear. ‘I told you to let her go. Now!’
The man complied, dropping his dagger to the ground and holding his arms up, but just as Will turned his head towards Isabel, the man lunged. This time, Isabel stumbled forward and swung her satchel, hitting him hard across the head. He toppled over with a thud as Isabel took a few steps back and sank to the ground.
‘My thanks,’ Will panted as he dropped to his knee, looking at her with concern. So much for an uneventful and tedious journey.
‘And mine,’ she whispered lifting her head. ‘You’ll be happy to know that I no longer have the hiccups.’
‘Well, that’s a mercy.’ The corners of his lips twitched. ‘Are you hurt, my lady?’
‘I’m fine, but allow me one moment before I get to my feet.’
‘No need,’ he said, gently, as he lifted her in his arms.
‘I’m glad you came for me, Will.’
‘Always… I hope you’ll now readily believe that I won’t let anything happen to you.’
Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 54