Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03

Home > Other > Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 > Page 10
Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 Page 10

by The Promise Keeper


  Persuaded, Michel nodded, “Then let us not keep the people in suspense any longer to have their speculations confirmed. Send word to the noble families that the time has come to settle the question of who will rule Calei in the wake of Barnabas’ passing. We will assemble in the great hall of the castle tomorrow at noon. Raulf will not appreciate our taking over the king’s home for our purposes, but nor will he prevent the nobles from gathering to discuss the very matter he wants resolved as quickly as anyone. Prepare the men. Though we all hope for a peaceful transition of power, my heart tells me there will be blood shed before the matter of the succession is settled.”

  “If you seek my opinion, my prince, your heart speaks truly. It will not matter to Raulf how just is your claim to your grandfather’s throne. The baron already considers himself king and will not surrender either the kingship of Calei or the Lady Elena without a fight.” It was Gabriel who spoke out and the others quickly added their assenting voices to his.

  Michel replied, “If it is my blood Raulf seeks, I am in the mood to accommodate him. It is only the blood of the innocent I am reluctant to shed and I have a feeling the baron is no innocent.”

  “What will you do about Lady Elena in the interim?” Paul asked.

  Michel turned to Timothy. “I cannot leave her here in the forest. Will your family take her in and see to her protection until the matter of the kingship is resolved one way or the other?”

  “I should be honored to render you this service, my prince, as I previously assured my friend, Barnabas,” Timothy replied with a slight bow, and then added with a knowing smile curving his lips and laughter lurking in his expression, “but I think the lady will resist any plan that takes her from your side.”

  Amused concurrence with Timothy’s conclusion was echoed in the laughter of those surrounding him. Michel greeted their amusement at his expense with a resigned shrug and an answering smile, “Undoubtedly, but I can hardly wield a sword with the maid seated on the saddle in front of me.” Fresh laughter erupted at the picture he painted, and he added on a sigh, “I will speak with Elena and attempt to convince her I am not abandoning her to a fate worse than death.” When his companions’ amusement died down, his voice took on a new seriousness when he turned in Amele’s direction, “If things go ill for me, my friend, you will act as the maid’s guardian in my stead. If she wishes to leave Calei, take her to my grandmother. I have a feeling the two will discover they have much in common.”

  Amele held his glance for long moments as if seeking some sign of a purpose Michel had not shared with the others, then apparently satisfied by what he read in Michel’s expression, nodded his assent. “As you command, my prince.”

  “We will leave in the morning with enough show of force that the baron will think twice about challenging us before the meeting has been called. As we planned, the remaining men will surround the city and engage only upon my order, if and when, a peaceful transition of power eludes us.”

  Elena sought the privacy of her tent as soon as they returned to the camp after paying her final respects to her Uncle Barnabas. She hadn’t realized the true extent of the terror she’d lived under these last long months of her uncle’s illness until she was forced to confront Raulf face to face. When he made his bold announcement that her uncle had left her in his care, her heart had lodged in her throat. Along with her heart was a solid knot of horror that had made it impossible for her to draw a breath.

  She stood now in the center of her tent staring down at her hands clasped together in front of her, unable to do anything to still their uncontrollable trembling. Her thoughts were busy reminding her of the narrowness of her escape. If she hadn’t been kidnapped from her bed… if Prince Michel had not been her savior that fateful morning, she would even now be dreading the prospect of marriage to Raulf and all that such a commitment implied.

  For a moment, while their company gathered in the castle hall, surrounded by the heads of the noble families of Calei, she feared, despite his repeated promises to the contrary, that her rescuer would abandon her to the baron’s mercy. The recollection of that awful moment settled harshly on her unsteady shoulders. She thought she must be suffering from some sort of delayed reaction to the reprieve she was granted.

  Her hands were shaking so badly her entire being was trembling. She tried to raise one of them to her face to brush the stinging tears from her eyes and found herself unable to do so. Instead she wrapped her arms around her stomach as much to still their trembling as in an instinctive gesture of protection and the next moment found herself doubled over in her effort to stifle the deep, rending sobs that threatened to overcome her.

  That was how Michel came upon her, almost on her knees struggling to reconcile a mixture of dazed fear that her reprieve from Raulf’s grip would be short-lived and a desperate hope that it was real, that she would be granted lasting freedom from the jaws of the beast who readied himself to feed on her tender flesh. The sound of her name pierced her dazed thoughts and she swung around at the echo of her savior’s familiar voice coming from the entrance of her tent.

  Their glances met. She saw him take in her pitiful state and immediately his incredible eyes filled with understanding and compassion. Ashamed of her weakness, yet unable to prevent herself from acting on it, she closed the distance between them on trembling legs and flung herself against his chest. His strong arms closed around her and drew her close against his heart until she abandoned her shaky attempts to regain control of her unsteady limbs and simply clung to his strength. Here was safety. Here was warmth. Here was everything she’d dreamt of in the blackest nights of her despair.

  Her sobs flooded his chest. She was so occupied with her tears, she was barely aware of Michel half-tugging, half-carrying her back to the center of the tent.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She whispered her broken apologies against the side of his neck, her lips brushing his ear.

  Michel was not immune to her softness pressed up against him, but he understood what she needed now was his comfort and reassurance, not his lust. “Did I mistake your wishes then? Did you prefer to remain in the city?” He teased and was relieved when Elena let out a little, soggy laugh against his chest.

  She raised her damp glance to his and shook her head, thinking to explain her piteous condition. “No, it’s just I didn’t realize how frightened I was of what would have happened to me if you hadn’t saved me. Before you came I had concocted all of these foolish, half-formed plans to escape Raulf’s reach by fleeing the city and seeking out a hiding place in the mountains. When I was kidnapped, even though I was terrified, part of me was grateful to my abductors for making it easy for me to leave the city. When I fell off the back of the horse, I was convinced that if I could only escape my bonds and avoid being captured again by my kidnappers, I would have a chance.” Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she tacked on with a self-deprecating smile, “As if it was a simple matter for me to survive alone and find shelter in the mountains even though I possess no useful knowledge or skills pertaining to such things.”

  “You planned to leave the safety of the city?” Michel echoed stunned by his young ward’s confession. All he could think about was the disastrous consequences of his twin’s flight away from their ancestral home in advance of the Norman invasion of Saxony, and Melissa had been very well-trained in the skills required to survive on her own in the wild. Michel’s heart clenched when he thought of Elena at the hands of the madman who very nearly killed his twin. The young innocent he held in his arms would have been no less than a lamb led to slaughter beneath his vicious assault. “Have you any comprehension of what you risked if you were able to execute such a ridiculous plan?”

  Elena was oddly comforted by Michel’s blatant disapproval. Willing to acknowledge the foolishness of her desperate plan to escape Raulf’s reach, she braved Michel’s blazing blue eyes and responded in a soft voice, “I am certain you are correct and I had no real understanding of the risks I would have con
fronted outside the city’s gates. I thought it likely I would die trying to escape, but death was preferable to the alternative awaiting me at Raulf’s hands. My greater fear was that the holy church would consider my flight into the mountains an act of suicide and I would be condemned to hell for all eternity because I passed from this life with the stain of a mortal sin on my soul.”

  Michel couldn’t get past his astonishment at the realization of the true depths of Elena’s innocence. He hadn’t realized such purity still existed in this world. At the same time he was trying to recover from the casual way she spoke of her own death. Didn’t she comprehend that there were worse fates than freezing to death in the mountains?

  “Elena…” he decided it was his duty to set her straight, but his voice trailed off when she simply stared at him with a knowing expression in her soft brown eyes that belied his conclusion of her naivety.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but you are a man and therefore could never truly comprehend what it is like to be alone and defenseless in the world and at the mercy of someone like the baron.”

  Michel swallowed his instinctive denial when he realized she spoke the truth. How could he truly enter into her feelings about the bleak future she faced subject to Raulf’s power? What did he know of being truly defenseless against an opponent of far greater strength? For a man, for a soldier, death, or being so gravely injured as to render him useless, were the most feared outcomes on the battlefield. For a woman, particularly a young innocent like Elena who could not even raise a sword in her own defense, there were greater fears to be confronted than death.

  Hadn’t Melissa tried to make him understand the very same point? He’d thought his twin was simply overdramatizing things, the way she was wont to do, but seeing the remembered terror in Elena’s eyes he acknowledged he’d never fully understood the reasons prompting Melissa’s desperate gamble to elude capture by the invading Norman army. Yet this young maid entered into his twin’s feelings as he, the one closest to her, had been unable to. Despite his revelation Michel recognized it would not serve his current purpose to agree with Elena’s point.

  “Elena, you are not to worry about such things. I want your word you will never do anything so foolish as to attempt to flee into the mountains on your own.”

  She evaded giving him her promise by pointing out, “Your grandmother escaped into the mountains. She knew what the king’s enemies would do to her. She recognized her only hope to save her life and that of the child she carried was to take her chances in the wilderness.”

  In a gesture of pure male frustration, Michel thrust a swift hand through his hair and immediately pointed out the flaw in her logic, “My grandmother did not flee into the mountains alone. Amele and a company of soldiers accompanied her. In time, others joined them. She was never alone.”

  Elena nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but just when Michel felt the hard knot of tension begin to dissolve in his chest, she added obstinately, “But I would wager if there was no one to accompany her she would have fled into the mountains alone in order to protect the child she carried…your mother.”

  Michel was willing to bet his grandmother would have done exactly that but didn’t think such an admission would gain him the promise he sought. “You are no longer faced with the prospect of being forced to flee on your own. Baron Timothy’s family will see to your care until…” Michel swore softly and let his voice trail off at the stunned expression that came over her face. He hadn’t meant to deliver the news of the arrangements he’d made for her protection while he was occupied fighting for a kingship quite so casually. When Elena tried to pull away from his restraining embrace, he shifted his grip to her arms as much to shake some sense into her, as to prevent her flight.

  “Elena, listen to me.” She was frantically fighting his restraint and staring up at him as if he’d just pronounced her death sentence. When she kicked him in the shins in an attempt to free herself, he drew her close against him and wrapped one leg around both of hers and held her slapping hands in one of his own larger ones. She continued to struggle against his constraint but without effect until finally accepting she had no hope of prevailing against his greater strength she resorted to a woman’s weapon. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her white face, even as she continued to shake her head in denial and mewling sounds escaped between her clenched lips.

  “Elena,” She shook her head against his gentle call. He thought if she had the use of her hands they would be covering her ears to block out the sound of his voice. “Elena, I have not forgotten my promise to your uncle to see to your protection and stand as your guardian, but I cannot allow you to accompany me into a battle for control of the city.”

  At his reasonable explanation she stopped struggling and lifted her crushed eyes to his face. “I don’t understand. Why would there be a battle for control of the city? You are the rightful heir to the kingship.”

  His lips curved at her naïve presumption his right to ascend the throne would be enough to convince Raulf and the other contenders to simply relinquish their plans, likely years in the making, to follow in her uncle’s stead. “Not everyone will be swayed by my right of ascension.”

  “You speak of Raulf,” she concluded bitterly.

  “Not only Raulf, but yes, he is likely to be the most obvious threat.”

  “Why can’t I stay here?”

  Michel smiled at her whispered cajolery. “What kind of guardian would I be if I did not make proper provision for your safety? Do you have a particular objection to Baron Timothy? Do you fear for your safety while under the care of his family?”

  For a moment, he could see she considered lying and telling him she did fear being placed under Baron Timothy’s care, but then she quickly reasoned out that even if he believed her lie, he would only find another family to take her in. Eventually she sighed defeated and leaned her head against his chest. “No.”

  Michel realized what the admission cost her, and was surprised when she surrendered their contest so easily. If he had been attempting to convince his twin of the justness of his position, Melissa would still be threatening him with her dagger and claiming she was as skilled as any soldier in the ways of combat so there was no reason she shouldn’t accompany him into battle. In fact, she would be highly insulted by his plan to leave her behind. He did not intend to risk sharing any of his twin’s outrageous opinions with his young ward, however. He certainly did not wish to plant the idea in her head that she could learn to wield a weapon and ride by his side into armed conflict. The picture of the gentle maid he held doing exactly that was enough to coax a grin to his lips.

  “Why are you smiling? Are you so happy then at the thought of being rid of me?” Elena asked in a desolate voice, catching sight of his amusement when she lifted her head from his chest at his extended silence.

  Michel’s grin widened and he bent to brush his lips across hers. “No.”

  Seemingly resigned to her fate, she asked, “How long do I have to stay with Baron Timothy’s family?”

  “Until the throne is secure,” he promised her.

  “And then I can come back to live in the castle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you live there too?”

  Michel kept his inward sigh at her question to himself. The living arrangements had obvious pitfalls, not the least of which, he could hardly continue to allow a young, unmarried, and unrelated maid to live under his roof indefinitely, but he thought now was not the time to bring up any additional complications. One hurdle at a time. “Yes, I will live there.”

  “All right.”

  His eyes lit with amusement at her reluctant agreement, as if the maid believed she actually had a say in the matter.

  “Michel?”

  “Yes?” he lowered his voice to match her hesitant whisper.

  “May I call you Michel?”

  Hadn’t she just done so? His grin widened. “Yes.”

  “Will you promise me you won’t die
and leave me alone again?”

  Michel wasn’t certain how to respond to her ridiculous request, but understanding the fear prompting it, he didn’t think this was the time to mention he’d made provisions for her future in the event of just such a contingency. Instead, he reached up to brush a stray silken strand away from her face, watched her face flood with telling color at his gentle touch, and seeing it, understanding what prompted its cause, dropped his gaze to her parted lips. He suddenly realized that this was likely the only opportunity they would have to exchange a private farewell. If things did not proceed as planned on the morrow, it was likely he would never see her again. Though he was reasonably confident of the success of his plans, he imagined Raulf and the others were equally confident of their own strategies they had in place in anticipation of the coming confrontation.

  “Elena,” he began in a serious tone, but she immediately stopped the flow of half-formed words from his lips when she raised her fingertips to them.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded in a suddenly agonized whisper.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t say goodbye. I cannot bear it. Are you certain I cannot accompany you? I am a very good rider. I will promise to stay out of your way.”

  Michel kissed the fingers pressed against his lips and shook his head in a gesture of gentle denial. “You know that is impossible.”

  “It’s not fair,” she complained softly, burrowing closer against his chest.

 

‹ Prev