The Warrior's Winter Bride

by Denise Lynn

  ‘If your father doesn’t convince him, then Glenforde will be led here by his greed. You are too wealthy an heiress to let slip through his grasp.’

  ‘We shall see. Besides, my choice was made many weeks ago. Do what you must to banish your ghosts, that is all I care about. Glenforde concerns me not at all.’

  ‘That’s what you say now. But you have no way of knowing what choice you will make when that moment arrives.’ He rested his forehead against hers. ‘But I pray your words prove true. And if they do, when all is said and done, we’ll have to get busy working on that child you want.’

  She knew that no matter how many times she told him her choice was made, it would only be her actions that convinced him in the end.

  ‘Conal waits for us.’ He kissed the end of her nose before standing up and offering her his hand. ‘And you wanted a visit with Marguerite.’

  * * *

  Richard pulled her closer to his side and tucked her hand beneath his arm. ‘You are freezing.’

  ‘No, actually, I am more than fine. The fresh air feels lovely.’

  Conal, walking on the path a little ahead of them, laughed. ‘Spoken like a woman who doesn’t have to be out in this...lovely...weather every day.’ He paused, turning to offer her his added assistance crossing a huge puddle. ‘See, someone could drown in that.’

  She laughed at him as Richard picked her up and handed her across the water to Conal. The man had been complaining since they’d left the warmth of the Great Hall. ‘The trees are starting to bud. Soon the buds will swell.’

  At the men’s sniggers, she bumped Richard with her hip, hastily adding, ‘Into leaves. I swear the two of you act like randy youths at times.’

  ‘That’s because we’re constantly surrounded by beautiful women.’

  Conal grunted his agreement at Richard’s claim.

  Isabella rolled her eyes. ‘You mean like the young serving maid?’

  ‘She’s not old enough to be beautiful yet.’ Richard shrugged. ‘Right now, she’s just young. A reminder of years long gone.’

  ‘So only old women can be beautiful?’

  Conal glanced over his shoulder at Richard. ‘Talk your way out of that one.’

  ‘Mature, I meant mature.’

  ‘Isn’t that simply another word for old?’ Isabella couldn’t help tease him. After what she’d put him through he needed a light-hearted moment or two.

  ‘I—uh...I meant...’

  Conal laughed. Isabella giggled, asking, ‘So, am I old and beautiful, or young?’

  Without missing a step Richard reached over, grabbed her and swung her up against his chest. Her breasts pressed against his hard muscles, nose to nose, her feet dangling. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked her feet about his thighs.

  ‘No matter how beautiful the serving maid might become, she will never be as lovely, desirable or tempting as you.’

  Conal groaned. ‘God, I wish the two of you would stop.’

  ‘He has no reason to talk.’ Isabella whispered, then added, ‘Please, let me.’

  At Richard’s nod, she said loud enough for Conal to hear, ‘You’re just jealous, Conal. But it is your own fault, you know.’

  ‘Beg pardon?’

  While Richard stopped, to let her slide down the length of his body until her feet hit the ground, she explained, ‘There is a beautiful woman who would move the moon and the stars for you if you but asked. And yet she lives alone.’

  The man waved his hand in the air as if brushing away flies. ‘You, too?’

  ‘You can’t expect her to wait for ever.’ She raised her voice more as he picked up his pace. ‘One day while you’re dawdling, someone else will sweep in and steal the prize.’

  Richard sighed. ‘And if that day comes the man will be miserable.’

  ‘Then I suggest, for his own good, he be prodded a bit more.’

  ‘Is that an order?’

  Isabella wrinkled her nose, debating. ‘Does his happiness affect Lord Dunstan’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, then, of course it’s an order.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll take it under advisement.’

  She poked him in the ribs. ‘I suggest you do a little more than that.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  They rounded the last curve on the path leading to the midwife’s cottage. Isabella stopped, holding Richard from approaching. She nodded towards Conal and Marguerite standing in the doorway. ‘Perhaps we should just let them be.’

  ‘I have some business with Father Paul.’

  ‘Then we’ll go to the church.’

  As they walked past Marguerite’s cottage, Richard briefly explained where they were going to Conal.

  Marguerite pulled Isabella aside, to ask, ‘I know it has been many weeks, but you’ve had no lingering effects from the poison in the wine?’

  ‘Ah, Conal told you.’

  ‘That’s what he was just explaining when the two of you arrived.’

  ‘No. I seem to have survived. My dignity, on the other hand...’

  Marguerite laughed at her. ‘I’m sure by now everyone has forgotten, but if not, what’s a little sharing of bodily functions amongst friends?’

  That made Isabella laugh wryly. ‘That’s what you’re going to call it? A little sharing?’

  ‘Why not? Anything else sounds too vulgar and unrefined.’

  ‘Isabella?’ Richard interrupted them and she took her leave of Marguerite, promising to return soon.

  He led her away from the cottage, stopping just outside the church door. ‘I’ll just be a minute or two. Do you want to wait in the narthex or out here?’

  ‘I’ll stay out here if you feel I’ll be safe.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m sure of it. But if anything startles you, or gives you pause, scream. You do know how, don’t you?’

  She pushed him towards the door. ‘Go.’

  Once he disappeared inside, she pulled her mantle tighter about her, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur and strolled the muddy grounds in front of the church. Spying the small cemetery, she opened the gate and took a seat on a bench.

  The headstones in front of her were those of Dunstan’s wife and daughter. Isabella shivered. Of course they would be. At times their ghosts hung over Richard like a black cloud, so why wouldn’t she choose a spot directly in front of them. As if she needed a reminder of the mental anguish she’d needlessly caused him a short time ago.

  She leaned forward to read the carved words. The one for his wife simply said Agnes of Dunstan and the date of her death. But the one for his daughter read: Lisette, Beloved daughter of R. Dunstan.

  Isabella frowned. Something was off with these inscriptions. His daughter was beloved, but his wife wasn’t? And why wasn’t Lisette the daughter of R. and A. Dunstan?

  She reached out to touch the girl’s stone, wishing it would give her an answer, but the sound of approaching footsteps made her pull her hand back.

  Richard sat down beside her.

  ‘That was quick.’

  He nodded and took her hand.

  When he threaded his fingers through hers and held on tightly, she silently cursed herself. Why had she come into the cemetery without thinking? He’d told her he’d only be a minute, she should have known that he’d find her here.

  ‘We can go.’

  He relaxed his hold. ‘No.’ He reached beneath his mantle and pulled out a leather scroll. ‘Here, this is for you to keep.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We don’t know what’s going to happen when your father arrives. He or your brother could run a sword through me without warning.’

  ‘No! Richard, they wouldn’t do that. I won’t let them.’

  ‘If I
was your father, I would make certain you weren’t anywhere near.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s all right. Who knows, I could some day die in my sleep. But either way, you need to know what is yours.’ He tapped the scroll. ‘This is our marriage contract. Keep it close.’

  She slid it beneath her cloak, intending to secure it behind the girdle wrapped low on her waist.

  ‘No. Read it first.’

  She opened the end and pulled out three rolled-up sheaves of parchment. The first page was just the who, what, when and where of the ceremony, which she shuffled to the back after a quick glance.

  The next page was a list of what he would gain from marrying her. It was brief. And contained one line—simply her. No dowry, no exchange of gold, land or any other material wealth. Just her as his wife. She wasn’t too certain this agreement would be considered binding with such an exclusion.

  The last page was a list of what she gained from marrying him. It, too, was brief. And contained one line—Dunstan Isle and all of its wealth, warehouses, ships, buildings and land.

  ‘Richard!’ She pushed the pages into his hands. ‘No.’ Flustered, horrified by what he’d done and greatly awestruck, she said, ‘Fix this. You will fix this. The minute my father arrives, you will fix this.’

  ‘Everything here is mine. Nothing is entailed to the crown. I am free to do with it as I please.’

  ‘No. You will fix this. If not for me, then for any children we might have.’ She tapped the pages he still held. ‘This makes me responsible for Dunstan. I cannot hold all of this safe. I cannot offer the ships protection once they set sail. If anything were to happen to you, I could lose everything you and your father and his father worked so hard to build. I could leave our children with nothing, not even a place to live.’

  When he didn’t say anything, she repeated, ‘You will fix this. Why on earth did you do such a thing?’

  ‘These were drawn up before I left Dunstan set on kidnapping you. At the time I thought it fair. You would give me the opportunity to avenge my wife and daughter, and in return, I would give you all.’

  Isabella was dumbfounded and, for one of the few times in her life, utterly speechless.

  ‘Even now, I still think it a fair exchange. Isabella, you have given much to Dunstan and its people.’

  ‘I cleaned your keep. That is all. Even that act was more for selfish reasons than anything else.’

  ‘Your selfish act made the men remember they were supposed to be civilised and not barbaric animals, made the women more willing to return to the keep.’

  ‘I cannot speak for the men, but the women came to work and were useful.’

  ‘Useful? Is that what you call climbing around on ladders and doing work more fit for men?’

  ‘I had no men to use. So we managed on our own.’

  ‘And whose fault was that?’

  ‘Yours.’ She paused, then admitted, ‘And mine.’

  He patted her hand. ‘I willingly share the blame in that. But trust that if need be, Conal and Matthew would keep you safe. You would lose nothing. They will fight for you, Isabella, the men will follow your orders. For the most part, they are good men. A little rough around the edges, but good men.’

  ‘No. You and my father can decide this. Even he would not be so greedy as to permit you to give it all away.’

  ‘Again, it is mine to give.’

  She wasn’t going to keep arguing this with him. He could do that with her sire, because she wasn’t about to step into what was rightfully her father’s place in this negotiation.

  ‘Tell me, is this the same type of agreement you signed with Agnes?’

  ‘No.’ He looked down at her. ‘We are sitting here before all that remains of the woman. Is there anything you wish to know?’

  She turned her face away. There were many things she wished to know, but hadn’t he had enough this day?

  ‘I would rather get all of this behind us now.’

  Sometimes she wondered how he so easily read her thoughts. She leaned her head against his arm. ‘These grave markers, they are odd to me.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Richard, if I ask you something about your wife, will you answer me honestly?’

  ‘Isabella, you know that if you ask me something, I will tell you the truth. So, if you ask me something, you’d better be ready to hear the answer.’

  Was she ready? Probably not, but to put it all behind them, it had to be asked. ‘Did you love her?’

  ‘Yes. With all my heart.’

  She closed her eyes. He’d warned her not to ask unless she was ready to hear the answer. But she’d gone ahead and asked anyway. So she had no one to blame for this sudden pain in her stomach, or her inability to swallow past the growing lump in her throat but herself.

  He draped his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side. ‘Until I learned that love is just a myth, a tale devised by troubadours to lure the foolish into believing their stories.’

  ‘What happened to make you think that?’

  ‘She never belonged to me. She belonged to another, but I didn’t know that until it was too late. Her father didn’t deem the other man worthy of his daughter. His need for fast gold didn’t permit him time to consider his daughter’s wants or desires.’

  ‘Most people don’t get the opportunity to choose their spouses.’ She laughed softly at the irony of her statement. She had been given the chance and she’d let it slip through her fingers, only to end up being forced into a marriage she hadn’t wanted and now did.

  ‘No, they don’t. But unbeknownst to me, she’d already chosen her lover, months before she ended up in a marriage bed with me.’ He nodded towards Lisette’s stone. ‘She wasn’t my daughter.’

  Shock froze her tongue for a minute. This was unheard of. Granted, her own father was a bastard, but his sire had been the king. For a woman to give birth to another man’s child while that man still lived was more than adultery, it condemned not just the mother, but also the child to an unimaginable life. She’d heard stories of families setting the child aside—literally setting the newborn in the cold to die. ‘And yet she bears your name.’

  ‘What else should I have done? She was an innocent child. Nothing of what her mother had done could be placed at her feet. And by the time she was born, I wanted someone to love, someone to cherish.’

  He looked down at her. ‘Don’t for one moment think I don’t understand your need, Isabella. I do.’

  ‘And Agnes?’

  ‘Oh, she lied well at first. She was gentle, loving, kind and attentive to my face.’

  ‘So, how did you find out it was lie?’

  ‘Something seemed off, just a little wrong. Nothing major, an odd look, a distracted kiss, a small flinch at my touch, so I started watching and intercepted one of the monthly missives she’d supposedly written to her father.’

  ‘It wasn’t to her father, was it?’

  ‘No. It was to her lover, telling him all about his child that she carried, how horrible it was to be in my presence, how sickened it made her whenever I so much as touched her and supplying him with enough information about Dunstan that he could have led an attack and succeeded in taking over my keep.’

  How any woman could stoop so low was beyond her understanding. ‘Oh, Richard, I am so sorry.’

  ‘Yes, well, not as sorry as I.’

  She was beginning to understand why he placed no faith in love. ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘Just what one would expect. She cried, swore it was over, promised to be a better wife. I was young and foolish enough to believe her.’

  ‘And you gave her another chance?’ Isabella could hardly imagine him doing so.

  ‘Of course. Until right before Lisette was born and a missive from her lover found its way
to my office at the warehouse.’

  Isabella cringed.

  ‘They had never stopped writing to each other. They made jokes about how gullible I was and how easy it was to lie to me. Worse, she had been sending him gold.’

  ‘Your gold.’

  ‘She had none of her own. He was saving it up to buy a ship and hire men to come kill me, so the two of them could marry and live on Dunstan as the lord and lady.’

  ‘Oh, my.’

  ‘That was nothing. When I confronted her, she turned into a shrew, spewing her hatred for me, my men, my keep. Everything I held dear became a target for her hate.’

  ‘And Lisette?’

  ‘It was worse for her, because I loved her so. Sometimes it would get so bad that I’d take the baby and we’d sleep aboard one of the ships.’

  ‘And yet you flog yourself for not being here when Agnes was murdered. Why?’

  ‘Because I refused to petition for a divorce based on a false claim of kinship, she remained my wife. It was my duty to keep her safe, no matter what.’

  Isabella wanted to pull him into her arms and soothe the furrows from his brow. She took his hand and stood up. ‘It’s turning cold. Come, let’s go back to the keep.’

  He rose and stared at the gravestones. ‘Do you know what the real horror is in all of this?’

  The things that had been done to him weren’t enough to be considered horrible? She leaned against his chest. ‘No. Tell me.’

  ‘The man she claimed to love and who claimed to love her, the man who was Lisette’s true father, is the same man who killed them both.’

  Isabella’s knees buckled. From somewhere outside of her body, she watched as she slowly slipped to the ground at his feet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A demon chased her. One with claws and glowing eyes. Blood dripped from his jagged teeth. He lunged at her.

  ‘No!’ Isabella awoke from the nightmare.

  ‘Shhh. It’s all right.’ Gentle hands pulled her back down on to the bed.

  She curled into the warmth of his chest, asking, ‘How did we get here?’

  Richard laughed softly. ‘You do realise that you aren’t that heavy, don’t you?’