by Alexa Aston
“But would you choose to marry her once you arrived? Give her a home?” Stollers asked. “What of your feelings for the lady? You seemed . . . upset . . . when you found out she was not betrothed to me.”
“I’ll admit I was taken in by her looks and charm, but Lady Beatrice has lied to me repeatedly. I wouldn’t choose a deceitful wife if I were so inclined to marry. Besides, I’m a second son with no fine home to offer her. You have that and a title. Why would any woman choose me over you?” Raynor shrugged. “Women want stability and protection. Both can be had if they marry a man such as you. As mistress of Brookhaven, Lady Beatrice would have instant wealth and respect. I can provide neither of those to her.”
Raynor pressed on. “Release me so that I may journey home, my lord, and meet my family obligations. I’ll go alone. Lady Beatrice is welcome to stay and become your wife if you choose.”
The words tasted like dust in his mouth, but he saw Stollers contemplate them carefully.
“You’ll remain here for now, Le Roux. Mayhap after I wed the lady, I will grant you your freedom.” Stollers turned abruptly and hurried away. Two soldiers stepped from the shadows and accompanied him.
Despair flooded Raynor. How could he keep that monster away from Beatrice when he was imprisoned—and no one knew where he was?
*
A knock sounded on the door, gentler than the harsh rap that had come only an hour before. Beatrice took in a large breath and expelled it slowly as she walked to answer it.
She opened the door and found a smiling Edwin Stollers, dressed in a rich burgundy color. The young nobleman looked confident and in a very good mood.
“Greetings, my lord.”
“And the same to you. I hope you received enough rest, my lady.”
“Thank you, I did. Yesterday proved a long day for me with too much excitement. I’ve lived a quiet life in the country and I’m not used to so much activity.”
She joined him in the corridor and he offered her his arm. Beatrice reluctantly took it, not wanting to touch any part of him.
“Life in a large castle does not appeal to you?” he asked, leading her away from the bedchamber.
She knew his question tested her, so she thoughtfully replied, “I couldn’t say. I only know what I’ve experienced at the manor house with my mother and grandfather. The three of us and a single servant lived together since my father and grandmother passed on long ago.”
Beatrice suddenly realized they’d turned in the opposite direction of the staircase and tamped down her rising panic.
“Where are we going, my lord? I thought we were to go to the great hall to break our fast.”
“We do go to break our fast,” Stollers said smoothly. “I simply wanted a more private setting in which to do so.”
“But Sir Raynor will be waiting for me,” she said, worried what Raynor would do if she didn’t appear soon.
“Sir Raynor can wait a bit longer. Come.” He placed his hand over hers and guided her to the solar at the end of the hallway.
Leading her inside it, Beatrice saw a serving wench remove a final item from a tray she held. Food and drink sat on the table for them.
“Anything else, my lord?” the girl asked.
“No. Leave us.”
His sharp tone caused the servant to hurry from the room. Once the door closed behind her, Beatrice felt isolated and frightened.
“Have a seat.” Edwin indicated the bench beside the table.
Beatrice did as he requested. She had no appetite, but she and Raynor would be traveling for most of the day. She needed to try to eat something.
“May I offer you some cheese?”
“Please.”
As he cut her a few slices from the round, she pulled off a small piece of bread from the loaf and chewed on it. He laid the cheese in front of her and then poured cups of ale for them. She drank some but found it hard to swallow. Stollers had taken a seat beside her, much too close for comfort. His thigh brushed along hers. Beatrice wanted to scoot away, but his leg rested on the folds of her skirt, pinning her next to him.
“I asked you here for a special reason, Lady Beatrice. That’s why I wanted time alone with you.”
She nervously tore at the bread in her hands.
“You know I sent Lady Minnith away yesterday.”
Beatrice’s temper flared at the mention of his rude behavior to the young noblewoman.
“I believe you disapproved of my actions?”
“’Tis not for me to judge you, my lord,” she said meekly.
“Please, call me Edwin.”
Beatrice lifted the cup to her lips, trying to hide her disgust.
“I didn’t think we would suit,” he continued, his finger lazily circling the rim of his pewter cup.
“The matter is between you, Lady Minnith, and her father,” she said as she set her own cup down.
His hand shot out. Strong fingers locked around her wrist. “The minute I saw you—when I thought you were my bride—I knew I was blessed with a woman of great beauty and poise.”
“But I was not your intended,” she pointed out.
“Yet, I wanted you to be.” His thumb stroked the tender underside of her wrist, bringing a wave of nausea to her. “Sweet Beatrice, I was smitten from the moment I saw you. I could have no other. Only you. That’s why I ridded myself of Lady Minnith. My heart told me I had to be free to wed you.”
“My lord—”
“Edwin,” he uttered, his fingers tightening on her wrist.
“Edwin.” She found the word foul on her tongue but kept an even tone so she wouldn’t betray her feelings. “I am no one. I would bring you no dowry, for I am penniless.” She waved her free hand about, emphasizing her point.
He grew still, an odd look upon his face. His eyes focused on her left hand.
The one which wore the ruby wedding ring.
She hadn’t taken it off since Raynor had slipped it onto her finger last night.
“Not quite penniless,” he noted. “That’s a fine ring you wear. I haven’t seen it on your hand before.”
Beatrice thought quickly. “This ring belonged to my mother. I wear it every now and then to feel closer to her.” She swallowed. “I told you that Mother taught me to play the lute. When I returned to my bedchamber last night, I was happy from the compliments I received after I played for your people. I took the ring out and put it on. Somehow, I feel my mother’s spirit with me when I wear it.”
He nodded in approval. She was glad he seemed satisfied with her response.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I will take you with only your lute and ruby ring as dowry, but I will have you as my wife, Beatrice. As a woman alone in the world, you lack protection. Sir Raynor pointed that out to me. He said women long for security and protection. He even told me since I had a great estate and a title, it would be what you would desire.”
She started in surprise. “Raynor said that? When did you speak of this?” she demanded.
“Just a bit ago.”
Cold fear formed in the pit of her belly. “I thought you left to attend mass,” she said. Her voice shook, betraying her terror.
He wrapped both his hands around one of hers. “Nay. I decided a conversation with Le Roux would be a better use of my time.”
Her thoughts raced. Had he seen Raynor leaving her room?
Where was Raynor now?
“The knight in question pointed out to me that as a second son, he had no home to give you. No wealth to shower upon you.” Stollers gave her a triumphant smile. “I have both and I place them at your feet.”
Her brows knit together. “I am most flattered, my lord.”
“Edwin.”
“Edwin,” she choked out. “But . . . might I speak with Sir Raynor?”
His eyes narrowed. “You seek his approval to marry me?”
Beatrice was speechless. Her mind went blank. Fear began to swallow her.
“So quiet, little mouse?” he tea
sed. “It seems so unlike you. Here, have more ale.”
He released the grip on her hand and refilled the pewter cup. She downed it, her mind spinning.
“You may visit Le Roux later. Once I have my answer.”
“Answer?” she asked weakly, knowing exactly what he meant.
“To my offer of marriage,” he said evenly. “In fact, I’ll accompany you to the dungeon. Together, we can share our good news with him.”
Fear now paralyzed her. She wanted to flee the room, but her limbs felt heavy. “Raynor is in . . . your dungeon?”
“He is. I wanted to make sure he held no undue influence over you. You alone need to make your decision to wed me. Without his input.”
A firm rap sounded at the door.
“Come!” Stollers called out impatiently.
Shem, the steward who had witnessed her marriage vows, entered. If he was surprised to see her alone in the solar with the master of Brookhaven, he hid it well.
“My lord, a rider has arrived from Ashcroft. He says he has a missive for Sir Raynor. I can’t seem to locate him.”
“Bring this messenger to me at once.”
“Very good, my lord.” The steward exited the solar.
“You aren’t to utter a single word,” Edwin commanded. “I wouldn’t want a careless word from you to inflict any . . . pain . . . on Le Roux.”
The threat hung in the air. Beatrice felt faint. She gripped the bench with both hands, willing herself not to black out.
The nobleman rose and began pacing the solar. He left her to her thoughts till Shem arrived again, this time bringing the man from Ashcroft with him.
She recognized the soldier from seeing him at meals in the great hall, but she couldn’t remember his name in the fog clouding her brain.
He stepped forward and saw her. “Lady Beatrice. ’Tis a pleasure to see you again.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgement.
“I came across Timothy and Bobbit on the road as they returned to Ashcroft and I made my way here. They were full of praise for your songs that made the journey north most pleasant.”
Beatrice smiled and nodded again. She hoped the man would stop addressing her. She didn’t want to do anything to endanger Raynor.
The soldier turned to Stollers. “My lord, I have a missive for Sir Raynor Le Roux from his brother, Lord Peter. He’s to read it at once and return to Ashcroft in haste.”
Stollers reached for the parchment. “I’ll see that he receives it. Sir Raynor is in the forest hunting with some of my men at the moment. They seek a boar in order to provide meat for my wedding feast.” He looked across to Beatrice and gave her a fond smile. “The lady and I will wed tomorrow.”
The rider broke out in a wide smile. “Then congratulations are in order, my lord. I hope you have a long and happy union.” He handed over the scroll.
“See that you stop in the kitchen and receive some refreshment before you leave,” Stollers said, his manner and tone friendly. “And have Cook give you some meat and bread to see you on your return trip.”
“Thank you, my lord.” He bowed and looked to her again. “I hope you find every happiness at Brookhaven, my lady.”
Beatrice beamed at him as if she were the happiest woman in all of England.
The Ashcroft man excused himself and vacated the solar.
“You did well,” Stollers said. He took a seat across from her and broke the seal on the missive. Unrolling the parchment, he said, “Let’s see what message is so important.”
He squinted and began to read. Beatrice watched him scan the page before him, then he roared in laughter.
Stollers lifted his eyes to hers. “It seems Lord Peter Le Roux has renounced his claim upon Ashcroft. The nobleman has left to enter a monastery. And the title of baron and all the land that comes with it now belong to his younger brother—Sir Raynor Le Roux.”
Chapter 24
Raynor was now Baron of Ashcroft?
Beatrice wanted to shout to the heavens. Raynor would be the perfect lord for the estate. He cared for its people and had a fine eye for detail. The land would thrive under his leadership.
And she would be Baroness of Ashcroft and could continue the work she’d started when she briefly resided there. She would be able to renew the friendships she’s started and form new ones. They would raise their family within the castle’s walls. Why, she might start riding again now that her fear of horses had dissipated. She visualized lifting a small child and seating him atop a pony, leading him around the paddock as Raynor cheered the boy on.
But none of this could come to pass if they didn’t escape Brookhaven. Beatrice might have the help of the trio present at her wedding to aid her getaway, but how were they to free her husband? It might be best to leave Raynor behind and go for help.
But where would she ride?
Though they’d passed many places close to Brookhaven, she drew a blank. And if she didn’t flee soon, she feared finding herself standing before Father Bernard again, with Edwin Stollers as the designated bridegroom. Beatrice could predict his erupting anger when she refused to speak any vows. ’Twould be even worse when she revealed to him that she was already a married woman—and that the marriage had been consummated under his roof.
Without a doubt, Stollers would see Raynor dead upon hearing that news. Beatrice could imagine the arrogant nobleman rushing down to the dungeons and killing her husband.
A life without Raynor would be no life at all. Beatrice needed him by her side as much as she needed the very air she took in.
A knock startled her from her thoughts.
“Come.” Stollers pushed aside the scroll in front of him.
Once again, Shem entered the solar. His gaze avoided her as he looked to his master.
“The messenger from Ashcroft is being cared for in the kitchen. Have you need of me for anything else, my lord?”
Stollers rose. “Aye, find Father Bernard. I need him at once.”
The steward’s eyes flicked briefly to Beatrice and back to Stollers. Beatrice held her breath.
“He’s not here, my lord.” Shem did not elaborate.
An annoyed look crossed Stollers’ face. “Where the Devil did he go?” he demanded.
Shem shrugged. “Father Bernard left after the funeral mass for your father and grandfather because the bishop sent for him. The priest should return in three or four days’ time.”
Beatrice knew Shem lied—to protect her.
“Why wasn’t I informed of this unexpected trip?”
Shem had the grace to look puzzled. “Sir Henry never asked for the priest to do so, my lord. Father Bernard is required to meet with the bishop twice a year. He was past due on their appointment but put it off since Sir Henry was in such poor health. He wanted to be here to conduct his funeral mass.” Shem swallowed and continued. “And your wedding, my lord. Father wished to be present to preside at your vows. Of course, that will not happen now with Lady Minnith gone.”
“But I have a new bride that has replaced her.” Stollers glanced over at her. “Lady Beatrice has agreed to marry me. We’ll wed immediately once Father Bernard returns. Notify the guard at the gatehouse that the priest is to be brought to me upon his return, whether it’s day or night.”
“I see.” Shem grew thoughtful. “Then we should make full preparations.” He acknowledged Beatrice for the first time. “Mayhap my lady would like to meet with Cook to help plan your wedding feast? And I know the castle seamstress would be more than happy to discuss a bridal gown with you.”
Shem held out a hand as if to usher her to the door. “If you’ll follow me, my lady, I can take you—”
“No,” Stollers interrupted. “That’s not necessary. Cook can do as she pleases. She knows of my favorite dishes. Whatever she decides for the feast will suit me well.”
“But Lady Beatrice—”
“She will like what I like and eat what’s put in front of her. You’re dismissed.”
The stew
ard inclined his head. “Very well, my lord.” He glanced to Beatrice and gave her a brief nod, an apologetic look in his eyes as he departed.
Beatrice felt trapped. Would Edwin not even let her out of his sight until Father Bernard supposedly returned from his visit with the bishop? And what if Edwin learned of Shem’s deception in the meantime from someone else?
She rose from the bench, conscious of the blue garter about her leg. She moved toward the door to see if Stollers would stop her from returning to her room. Beatrice reached for the door handle.
Before she could turn it, she was jerked back. Strong arms encircled her, pinning her own to her side.
“You aren’t going anywhere, my lady,” Stollers whispered into her ear. “Though the marriage vows may have to wait a few days, I plan to have you in my bed. Now. Your bare flesh against mine.”
His thumb and forefinger grazed her nipple and then pinched it, twisting it painfully. Beatrice gasped in shock and outrage. She squirmed, trying to escape his hold on her.
Stollers chuckled as she struggled against him. He drew his tongue along the nape of her neck. “I can’t wait to bite into your tender flesh, Beatrice.” He squeezed one of her breasts. “I think I’ll start with this plump one.”
She drew her foot up as she had practiced with Raynor and slammed her heel down onto his foot as hard as she could. Stollers yelped like a puppy that had been kicked and released her.
She needed to incapacitate him. She swung around and punched him hard in his throat. Immediately, his hands went up and clutched it as he choked.
Stollers turned a murderous eye upon her. “Bitch,” he spit out.
Her foot had already drawn back and sailed toward him. She realized that he knew what was coming but couldn’t act fast enough to prevent contact. Beatrice kicked his groin with everything she had. Stollers cried out pitifully and doubled over. It still wasn’t enough. The bastard would be determined to chase her down once he recovered. Using what her husband had taught her to do, she slammed into his nose with her forehead. Blood spurted as he cursed at her. He bent again, one hand cradling his broken nose and the other his bruised manhood.
Beatrice shoved the nobleman away. As he fell back, he struck his head against the corner of the table. He collapsed on the floor and didn’t move.