“Who are these people, Melisende?”
“Regulars. I know them all.” She glanced around. “But I don’t see Tom. He’s usually here.” She frowned. “Mayhap he was delayed.”
“So ’tis safe?”
“Aye. They are waiting for the boats to arrive. The carts are to transport the casks of wine and brandy back to the village. And from there to all parts of Norfolk. ’Tis hard but profitable work for these men. They’re amply rewarded for their risk.”
“A great risk indeed. They’ll be easy targets if the excise men discover them.”
“Aye. But the local men do not follow the usual paths. They travel across the marshes on ancient tracks that avoid the treacherous mud that would swallow a man whole. And besides, the road by which the excise men would approach is well guarded.”
They walked towards the man holding the lanthorn. The other men clustered around him, all peering out to the distant horizon.
“Any word?” asked Melisende.
“Only word is that strangers have been seen heading to port.” The man’s face was grim in the strange light.
“Strangers?” She shrugged. “Might be anyone.”
The man turned and spat out the root he was chewing. “Might be. Might not be.”
But Melisende knew. She had a gut feeling and glanced at Galien whose face reflected her fears. “But you came anyway?”
“I have men who’ll give us warning if needs be.” His gaze remained steadily on the black sea. “And who’s that with you?”
“A priest. He needs passage on a returning boat.”
He glanced at Galien, his eyes dark but penetrating dots in the creased and weathered skin. She reached inside her cloak and withdrew a bag and gave it to him. He weighed it in his hand, judging its worth. She held her breath. He pocketed the coin and she exhaled.
“You have another bag of coin for the captain?”
“Aye,” Melisende answered, her heart in her mouth. “There is no problem?”
“If there is sufficient coin, there is never a problem.”
She returned to Galien. “Now all we have to do is wait.”
The man looked around and lit the lanthorn, placing his back against the wind. The men shuffled closer, their movements quickening at sight of the light. All eyes were strained on an answering signal out to sea. There was none. The man snuffed out the light and they waited for an interminable amount of time before repeating the exercise. This time there was an answering flash at sea and slowly, the shape of two boats could be seen, lighter than the dark sea, moving towards them.
“Mel—my lady!”
Melisende turned to find Tom standing breathless before her. He pulled off his hat. “My lady.” And turned to Galien and nodded.
She reached out to him, for his eyes looked scared. “What is it?”
“My lady, the Abbess sends word to Father Galien. The King’s men have been and gone. She says they did not find what they were looking for and wishes you God’s speed.”
Galien exchange a glance with Melisende. “And they are all well? No-one was hurt?”
The man looked uncomfortable. “The Lady Abbess told me not to say.”
“Tell me. I will not betray your words.”
“There was a fight and injuries resulted.” Melisende gasped. “But not many and the Abbess was untouched. ’Tis under control and not so bad as you imagine. Ada is looking after them well.”
She turned to Galien.“I must go to them.”
Galien reached out and took Melisende’s arm, holding her tight. “No! You heard Tom. They are managing and Ada is capable. You’ve taught her well. She will deal with this.”
“She is still young.”
“As young as you were, no doubt, when you first started working at the hospital. Listen to me, Melisende. There will always be reasons to return. Always. You have to put our love first.”
She stepped back as the first of the two row boats surged in on a wave. “I am putting our love first, Galien. I can’t bear the thought of your love for me turning into frustration, anger and eventually hate, as you realize you’ve traded your dreams for the dull domesticity of a wife and children. You’d hate that life. And ’tis a home for which I crave. We want different things, you and I.”
He shook his head, determinedly and turned to greet the captain who’d jumped out of the boat and accepted the money from Galien.
“’Tis for two,” Galien said firmly.
“Aye, then,” said the captain, “we leave in minutes. ’Tis not safe. Last night we saw men heading to the beach. ’Twas not excise men though.”
A shiver ran through Melisende. They must have been the men seeking Galien. ’Twas even more imperative that he go. She had to do something to make him see, to make him escape the danger that lurked on shore.
While men moved briskly back and forward, loading their goods onto the waiting carts and boats, Galien held out his hand for Melisende who stood transfixed, unable to believe what she was about to do.
There was a muffled shout as a second boat was pulled to shore to offload its cargo.
“Melisende,” Galien called as loud as he could above the noise of the men and the surf, but she took a step backwards. He came after her. “The captain says it’s now or never. Come.” He grasped her hand.
But she pulled back. “You go, Galien. I cannot.”
He took hold of both her hands and his expression was fierce. “I’ll stay, then. For I won’t leave you.”
“You must go.” Desperation rose, clawing at her chest, her throat, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to utter the lies. “I don’t want you here, Galien. Don’t you see? I don’t want you!” The shrillness in her last words tore into her soul, just as she could see it ripped into Galien’s heart.
He let go of her hands and stumbled back from her, the water surging up around his legs.
“Go!” She called out but the words were swept away. She turned away, unable to witness the pain in his eyes, and not wanting him to see the tears in hers. She waited long moments before turning to watch the boat move away to the larger boat anchored off shore. He had his back to her and didn’t turn around.
A wave broke over Melisende’s ankles, soaking the hem of her cloak. Then another wave and then another were between her and Galien, and then he was swallowed into the darkness.
She staggered back. She’d run through the arguments in her head all night and all day. They wanted opposite things—her, the peace and stability of a home in which she could study, could learn, could be herself. And he? He had his own dreams to follow which had nothing to do with security. It was madness to leave the safety of the priory. She looked inland to where the priory lay, waiting for her.
It was as if life was held in the balance. The balance was heavily weighted in favour of returning to the priory. But what of other things? What of her newly awakened body, what of her heart that ached with a throbbing hurt when Galien had finally released his hand from hers? What of that?
Doubt ebbed and flowed within her, like the waves which surged around her ankles. If she wanted stability so much, then why, as Galien had asked, did she risk so much in joining with the smugglers? Was it because deep down, it wasn’t safety that she wanted, but excitement?
Galien was the unknown, he was life—passion and feeling—everything she’d always believed she didn’t want. But the truth was that she’d been pushing the boundaries of her freedom with her hospital work and with the smuggling, believing she did it solely for the good of others. She wanted to help people, of course she did, but she now recognized the restless spirit and thirst for adventure that was her true nature—a nature she hadn’t been able to accept before forced into it by the prospect of life without the man she loved. She no more wanted a cloistered life than Galien.
So what was she going to do?
She turned to watch the second boat push back into the surf and knew she had no choice. The decision had been made for her.
Ch
apter 13
Galien gripped the rough, weathered wood of the boat’s gunwhale, and look out to the black horizon. Always before he’d known his destination. But now he felt nothing but emptiness ahead of him.
He’d done what he’d set out to do, all those months before, but he was leaving England feeling the reverse. He’d left things undone. He’d left a part of himself there. And there was nothing he could do about it. He loved Melisende but he had no right to demand that she come with him. She was searching for something as he was also, and she’d said she’d found it at Blakesmere Priory. He had no right to rob her of her sense of belonging, of the only place she called home.
But… he looked up to the vast sky, studded with stars, and closed his eyes against their brightness, feeling his eyes smart. But… the thought of life without her was unimaginable. His next step was to report to the King of France, to continue the work he’d begun so many years before, after his family’s murder. But for all the justness of his cause, he felt the energy had been lanced and there was nothing but emptiness within. How the hell was he going to survive without her?
The boat surged gently on the rolling seas. He felt a jolt as the second boat knocked into the side of the bigger boat. The men spoke in quiet undertones as they moved around the deck, lashing the smaller boats into position. He could almost hear his name being called, as if from far away. He shook his head. He was going mad now, haunted by her sweet voice.
Then he felt the touch of a hand on his arm. He stilled. It was no rough grip of a seaman. He spun round. The clouds scudded past, revealing a lopsided moon that made her blonde hair and the whites of her eyes shine. She was ethereal, a figment of his desperate imagination. Her hood had fallen, pushed away by the incessant wind, her hair whipped around her face, as if she were some valkyrie. But her eyes held his with a passion he recognized.
He groaned and reached out for her, pulling her to him, his lips finding hers in an instant. And they weren’t the lips of a phantom, they were real, warm and moving against his with a passion equal to his. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, her lips once more and then simply held her against him, allowing his senses to make her real to him.
“Melisende, Melisende, Melisende,” he murmured into her hair. “Can it be you?” He pulled away from her and held her head between his hands, searching her face. She gave a long, low laugh.
“If ’tis not, you must have just kissed a sailor.”
He laughed and rested his forehead against hers, twisting to watch the oars as they began to pound in unison into the white-flecked ocean. “We are under way now, Melisende. There is no going back. I will make a home for us.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t want a home. I want to be with you. With you, wherever that may be. I would not have you tamed.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m only sure of one thing.” Her finger was hesitant, darted softly from his lips, cheeks, brow, as if she, too, was making sure he was real. “That when you left me, you took everything that made sense with you. I was left with nothing after you’d gone.”
“But Blakesmere, the Abbess, what of them?”
She glanced down as a shadow of sorrow passed over her features. “I love them, I’ll miss them, but it’s you I can’t live without.”
He brought her into his arms and held her tight against his body. Only then did he feel her shiver, and become aware of the wet of her cloak seeping into his clothes.
“Come, let’s go to the forecastle, we’ll have some shelter from the wind there.”
Behind the sheet of leather and wooden shelter, he took off his cloak and draped it around her and drew her into his arms, sheltering her from the weather. He felt as if was holding the most precious thing on earth.
Melisende felt strangely at peace in his arms. Now the decision was made, she knew it was the right one, despite the raging seas and the fact she had no idea if she’d ever see her home, her sisters and the woman who’d been a mother to her, again.
In his arms, she was sheltered from everything. She knew no matter where he took her, roaming the world, or finding a home, she had her home with him. Slowly they slipped into an uneasy sleep, awoken only by the rolling of the boat on the lively swell of the sea. The shape of the flat coast of Holland lay before them. They rose and walked to the deck where they could watch the port grow larger.
He lifted her face to his. “You look sad, Melisende. Tell me, you do not regret your decision already?”
She shook her head. “Nay, I just wish I could have spoken one last time to the Abbess, made her understand.”
Galien patted the pocket in his cloak. “Ah, but I nearly forgot, Lady Anne gave me a package to open once I was safely out of England.”
“Really? Where is it?”
He reached in his leathern bag and drew out a package. “She asked me to take this to France. She wanted me to open it in sight of the coast. Something sentimental no doubt, about her homeland.”
Melisende frowned. “Sentimental? The Abbess? I never knew her to be sentimental about anything. I wonder what it can be?”
He smiled and kissed her. “Only one way to find out.” He broke the seal, scanned it and then passed it to her to read. “It’s for you.”
My dearest Melisende,
If you are reading this then you’ll have made your decision. And I believe it to be a good one.
I sensed from your first meeting with Sir Galien, your attraction to each other. He is a good man, from a good family. His only fault is his fierce passion for everything, and everyone, he holds dear. But it is this fault which I know will ensure that he cares for you always. I pray to God he finds peace with you and can turn away from the bitterness of revenge.
You have a home with me at Blakesmere, always. But I believe you will live a fuller life, one that will serve God better. My dear, whatever life brings to you, face it with the same courage and compassion you always have.
Send word where you are and I will send your books to you. Your work here will be carried on, but your books and knowledge will go with you and I have no doubt that you will do good in the world with it. With Sir Galien by your side.
God bless you.
Your loving aunt…
“She knew…” Melisende folded the parchment carefully as she tried to hold back the tears. “She knew I’d come with you and she said nothing to stop me.”
“As I said, she’s a wise woman. She knows you and she knows me… knows that I’ll care for you now and for always.” He captured both her hands in his and brought them to his lips. “Will you marry me, Melisende? Will you be my wife and be with me, by my side, whatever happens?”
She swallowed down the huge lump that had appeared from nowhere and nodded. “I love you, heart and soul, and I will be your wife.”
“Then we are married. We will have the marriage blessed in France as soon as we’ve landed.”
He dipped his head to hers and kissed her briefly. He started to move away but she thrust her fingers through his hair, and pressed her lips to his. As they kissed she could feel the deck pitch and roll beneath her feet, could feel the keen wind on her face, and she knew their future lay before them, unknown and unknowable. But so long as he stood beside her, she could face anything, and she wanted nothing more.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Melisende’s story. You can read Angelique’s story in Awakening his Lady (excerpt follows).
The fourth book in the Norfolk Knights series is a full-length novel—Defending his Lady—which begins the stories of the de Vere siblings with Rufus de Vere:
A warrior without a heart. A gypsy without a name. A marriage which will ruin them all.
You can read an excerpt of Defending his Lady on my website.
Reviews are always welcome—they help me, and they help prospective readers to decide if they’d enjoy the book.
For news on forthcoming books or to sign up to my newsletter, please check out my website—http://www.sa
skiaknight.com.
Happy reading!
Saskia
Also by Saskia Knight
—Norfolk Knights—
Novellas
Claiming his Lady (Book 1)
Seducing his Lady (Book 2)
Awakening his Lady (Book 3)
(excerpt follows)
Full-Length Books
Defending his Lady (Book 4)
Awakening his Lady
Excerpt
“Stop, Angel.” He turned her to face him and brought his hand to her chin and lifted it. “Stop. Look at me.”
Slowly she opened her eyes, keeping her gaze lowered to his mouth—the softness of his lips was separated by a firm, uncompromising line. She frowned. That sternness was new. Her gaze lifted to his cheeks, roughened with stubble. He must have been riding long hours, not to have shaved. She touched his face, she couldn’t help herself.
“The texture of your skin, your hair, it’s different, it’s changed.” Her fingertips scraped against the stubble, tracing a path that took her back to his lips.
“Nine years brings changes to a man.”
“And to a woman.”
His head moved under her hand. “No. Not to you.”
Seducing His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 2) Page 8