Charlotte’s brain turned to cold slush. Kill the prey? She stared at Gautier as he struggled to his feet and crossed his impressive arms over his chest.
“You’re one fortunate woman, Charlotte. That man isn’t your typical doting old brother. Cardinal Lanteigne chose a very special man to deal with you.”
She gritted her teeth when Guilabert put his mouth against her ear. “Brother Gautier is such a peculiar man. He’s the bastard son of a nobleman, an artisan, a chevalier, as I have told you already, and a lay brother…but a very special one. He is a member of the Order of Raphael… Do you know what they do, these special champions of God? Do you know what other word is used to describe them? Assassins.”
The whispers could have come from the Devil himself for the malice they held. Charlotte angled her face away from his. He would not succeed in turning her against Gautier, no matter what lies he chose to tell. She knew him too well to believe anything he said. And Gautier had acted more honorably than any nobleman she knew. She had no use for status and birthrights.
“You don’t believe me? See the gold cross on his chest? There’s an inscription behind, Res Divina, which means ‘Service of God’. The Order of Raphael. That’s their mark. The things they do…”
Guilabert let silence fill the rest of his malevolent discourse.
She knew Gautier was some kind of enforcer for the Church, but an assassin? Her heart in her throat, she turned toward Gautier and searched his countenance for any sign that Guilabert’s words were vicious lies and found nothing but resolve. When their gazes met, he did not look away nor did he seem ashamed of what he was or had done.
As though she did not have enough to sift through, another thread added itself to the knot…if Gautier had wanted her dead, she would be. Wouldn’t she? Plenty of opportunities had presented themselves since his arrival. He could have killed her during any of their exchanges as most of them had happened with some degree of isolation. They had just spent half a day sleeping one beside the other! When it would have been easy for him to slit her throat, he had instead made love to her. It had to count for something. At least a little bit. She sighed deeply.
“I know, shocking,” Guilabert replied, mistaking her sigh for disappointment.
Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not shocked. Some folk have the strength of their convictions. It’s not something you’d understand.”
The pressure on her arm intensified despite the cape, while the blade became heavier against her throat.
“I may become a widower before long,” snarled Guilabert. He gave her a rough shake. “Perhaps a terrible accident will happen to my poor, heartbroken wife.”
Through the pain, she saw Gautier’s look of relief, as though he silently thanked her for understanding, for not judging. Charlotte put all of her affection for him into her eyes, hoping he would get her silent message.
Guilabert released her and extended his hand toward Lussier. “Give me the deed.”
The knight dug under his leather tunic and produced a wrinkled scroll of parchment, which he gave to Gautier.
“We have a chapel. We have a man of God. All we need are two young people madly in love.” Guilabert turned back to her and winked. “It’s all here.”
Disgust and horror twisted her gut, tightened her throat. Right here? Right now? Taking a step back, she stared as Gautier unrolled the parchment and scanned it quickly.
“You must be mad if you think I’ll condemn her to such living hell,” Gautier said.
A look of pure fury crossed Guilabert’s eyes. He snatched the parchment back. “Lussier, take my future bride to the chapel. I need a word in private with the good brother.”
While Guilabert grabbed Gautier by the sleeve and led him farther away, Lussier strode up to her but did so with obvious caution. He could probably remember the last time the two were alone…he had ended up on his ass. When he was still a few paces away, he pointed with his sword toward the chapel, indicating she should walk in front. Charlotte only stared. This was beyond madness—it was criminal. She was a Bourbon-Condé, for God’s sake!
“No one is going to marry me against my will,” she said flatly.
“Look at it this way,” Lussier whispered with a conspiratorial grin. “You cooperate—you live and so does your precious Brother Gautier. You don’t cooperate—he dies before your eyes. And I’ll make sure he suffers fittingly before I take his head. So you choose.”
Charlotte wanted to kick the smug smirk off his face. A wave of anger burned through her heart, leaving a bitter tang in her throat. Swallowing back the array of retorts, Charlotte pulled the cape tighter around her and stomped to the chapel. There, she looked over the broken wall at Guilabert and Gautier, the pair standing very close together and arguing fiercely. At one time, the knight put his hand on the other’s shoulder and patted it. Gautier shook it off and stormed toward the chapel.
Behind her, Lussier tut-tutted. “Temper, temper.”
Soon, Gautier cleared the debris and stood beside the toppled altar. His face looked pale but composed. A grinning Guilabert walked over to Charlotte and snaked his arm over her shoulders.
“Your childhood dream is coming true, Charlotte. I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting for so long. Your parents would be so happy.”
His arm about her triggered a mental image of Gautier doing the same, although his presence did not elicit the disgust she now felt. The grotesque similarity made her gag.
“Take that off me,” she growled under her breath.
He only laughed and squeezed her tighter. “I can hardly wait to share my bed with you. I’ve learned quite a few things during my stay in the Holy Land.”
Charlotte shoved him back, very satisfied to see him windmill his arms to keep his balance, but her bravado cost her as Lussier struck her behind the legs. She cried out and collapsed on her knees. Her calves burned.
Gautier rushed forward and stood barely a pace away, his fists blocks of pink stone.
“Remember what I told you, bastard,” Guilabert said.
Blanching dreadfully, Gautier muttered a curse and retreated.
Though Lussier chuckled as he pulled Charlotte back to her feet, he did take a step away from her. All the while, Guilabert watched with the intensity of a bird of prey and his hazel eyes narrowed with what Charlotte could only call envy. He licked his lips and motioned for Gautier to return to his place.
The next few moments could have been a dream to Charlotte. Gautier spoke in his man-of-God voice, the Latin words clear and strong, and even if intellectually she understood, she was too dazed to grasp the finer points of them. She knew what went on, there was no doubt about it. She was being married to Guilabert de Lissi—a man for whom she had once felt more than affection—a man with whom she had shared her first intimate encounter. A lad her parents had hoped would marry their daughter. A man she now loathed enough to kill in his sleep.
“I do,” Guilabert said beside her.
Charlotte’s attention snapped back to her surroundings. The knight looked at her with a defiant countenance. Her throat closed of its own accord. A liquid drumbeat rushed in her ears. She was afraid to faint in a dead heap. Charlotte looked about at the once beautiful chapel, the round window behind Gautier, which gave the illusion of having a halo of foliage. Sounds of leaves dripping from rain, of birds, of small animals deep in the woods reached her acutely. Smells also overloaded her senses. She turned to look at Guilabert again, desperately wanting to see the boy she once knew. He was gone. Standing in his place was a man as sordid as he was beautiful.
“Think of poor Brother Gautier,” Lussier whispered from behind her.
She whirled around, wanting to lash out at him but fear for Gautier stayed her hand. Turning back to face the broken altar, she held herself very straight. They could force her into marriage but they would not cow her. Charlotte could not help but glance at Gautier. He looked so fierce in his anger, so much the vengeful angel after whom his order was called. Yet, hi
s countenance softened when he lowered his gaze to her.
“I do,” she said.
Gautier looked down at the ground separating them and closed his eyes.
“Good girl,” Guilabert said before stepping over and planting a kiss on her lips. As soon as she drew back, he straightened. “There’ll come a time when you won’t want to avoid me. You’ll see.”
“What now?” she heard her voice ask. She felt so numb. A shiver shook her.
“Back to Montmorency to settle some tiny affairs.” He said the word “affairs” with so much delight she wanted to slap him.
“You mean surrender my fortune to you.”
He slapped her. Hard. Charlotte reeled back and struck her heel against a piece of broken altar. She sprawled on her backside.
“Don’t think I’ll tolerate that mouth of yours, for I won’t,” Guilabert said as he slid his sword back in its sheath.
A few paces behind him, Gautier seethed, his fists trembling at his sides. She stood and dusted her cape. “Taste it while you can. That fountain will dry up fast.”
Guilabert grinned one of his lopsided grins. “I expect as much vigor in our bed. What do you say we consummate our union at the mansion? I’ve always wanted to see your chambers.”
Bile rose up violently. She gagged. Together in the same bed.
As her ears buzzed with renewed intensity, her whole body tingled with panic.
Guilabert’s lustful gaze stabbed through her numb brain, blazed a path to her soul, which shrunk in horror. Someone said something. She did not hear the words, only an uninterrupted buzz like an insect hovering nearby. Panic filled her mind with horrid images of things he would do to her, things he would want her to do to him. Energy tingled along her arms and back. Abject fear. She couldn’t go through with it. She thought she would be able to. She had been wrong.
Swifter than she thought her legs capable, she leaped over the crumbled wall and ran for her horse. She had crossed half the distance before something struck her in the back of the head. Stars fizzed around her field of vision.
As Charlotte tumbled to the ground and rolled onto her back, she heard Gautier’s voice raised in a roar. Then everything went black.
* * * * *
Gautier checked again to make sure she looked as comfortable as a woman could be lying across a saddle. Her feet and wrists were bound under the beast’s belly as he had seen the Saracens do to their prisoners. So, the knight had picked up a few pointers from the enemy. Gautier stifled a curse.
When had his world begun to unravel? How had he allowed himself to be manipulated so easily? He looked heavenward for guidance but found none. God was deafening in His silence. Gautier felt in each of his bones what he did was wrong. What choice did he have? Guilabert had told him unless he cooperated fully, he would do to her what had been done to female pilgrims back at the crusade. The horrific images would not fade from Gautier’s mind. The things those women had endured… He would not abide his Charlotte to suffer this way.
His Charlotte.
When had the baroness become “his Charlotte”? He sighed then checked back on her again. She looked so uncomfortable. Lussier caught him looking at the unconscious woman and tugged on the reins of her horse so the beast would slew and rub its flank against prickly branches, which tugged at the woman’s clothes.
Vicious little swine. If he had a chance, Gautier would make him pay for this. Dearly.
His own hands had been bound in front of him and though the knots were clumsy and he could have undone them within moments, he genuinely feared Guilabert’s threat. His heart constricted at what awaited her. But she was strong. She would survive. Despair dimmed his spirit, dulled his senses. If only he had seen through the lies from the start.
Had he not though? The knight’s motives had bothered him the very first time they had met. Was it some sense of misplaced pride that had allowed him to overlook the unease plaguing him? Pride or blind faith. Either way, it had cost this woman her freedom. Her overseer’s words came back to him. “You should listen to your soul when it’s telling you something.” It was screaming now, only too late. He should have listened much sooner.
As they rounded a bend in the narrow path, he heard muffled sounds coming from behind and knew she was waking. A quick glance back revealed Charlotte trying to raise her head to look around. The lack of proper blood flow flushed her face. The knight would hopefully not keep her thus until they reached Montmorency. What an entrance they would make. Gautier doubted Guilabert was this foolish. Her people would rebel if they saw the baroness treated this way. No, Gautier thought, Guilabert would stop for a short break near the estate so he could untie her and let her ride with some dignity.
And this was when Gautier would strike.
“Guilabert!” Charlotte yelled from behind him.
Gautier shook his head at her, tried to pass his message of patience through his gaze alone but she would have none of it. She thrashed and bucked so much Lussier had to wrestle her horse back, which fretted and tugged against its tethers. A long string of curses heralded Guilabert as he backtracked and passed Gautier. The countenance alone would have cowed anyone—however Gautier doubted its effect on the headstrong woman. Her spirit may be heroic, but right now, with his budding plan taking shape, her attitude only compounded their dire situation. And the dangers.
Surreptitiously, Gautier slipped the rope off but held it, pretending it still bound his wrists. Guilabert handed Gautier’s reins over to Lussier, who now had to control his own mount plus two others.
“What now?” Guilabert hollered. The tic at his eye had returned. He tugged on the reins of his horse and pulled alongside Charlotte’s head. Bending down, he yanked her hair out of her face.
“I need to…you know. I need to go,” she replied in undertones.
“God, woman, you’re already more trouble than I thought. That’s saying a lot,” he snapped. Straightening, he drew in a long breath. “Go with her,” he said to Lussier.
A grin of delight appeared on the stout man’s face. He nodded and slid off his mount, dropping the extra reins he held. After untying her, he pulled on her hose and she slid down, teetering on her feet. “Give me a moment,” she said, shaking her hands to get some blood flow back.
Lussier would have none of it though and propelled her deeper inside the woods. She offered him a glacial stare but complied. Gautier’s heartbeat quickened when Lussier checked back on Guilabert but the knight was looking somewhere else. There was no mistaking that look. Lust.
“You trust that man with your wife?” Gautier asked in what he hoped would pass for a casual tone.
Guilabert only shrugged. “Her flower has been picked a while back, bastard. What difference does it make if I’m back again as second…or third?” He gave him a pointed look.
Rage welded Gautier’s jaws together. He meant to reply but a strangled shout drifted in toward them.
“I swear…” The knight cursed, dropping from his horse and rushing into the woods.
Sliding down but keeping his hands together between the ropes, Gautier sprinted after him and easily caught up with the knight as he cleared a thick copse of evergreen. Guilabert stopped dead in his tracks. Gautier collided with him then stepped aside to look over his shoulder.
“Holy Mother of God,” the knight murmured, shaking his head.
A cringing Lussier sat against the base of a tree with a dagger protruding from his chest. A crimson stain spread quickly down his front. He looked down at himself with more shock than pain. When he looked up, his mouth twisted in a sneer. “My own dagger… That way,” he whispered, pointing with his hand.
“That bitch!”
Guilabert turned on Gautier, slid his sword out of its sheath and leveled it. “Help me find her quickly or by God, it’ll take her weeks to die.”
The demented glint in the man’s eyes convinced Gautier the knight had gone over the brink. He nodded. “Untie me then.”
“You don’t need y
our hands to run,” Guilabert replied before taking off in the direction Lussier had given.
Moments after the knight had disappeared, Gautier followed for a few steps, slowed then stopped completely. Turning around, he spotted Lussier trying to press his hand around the blade to stop the bleeding. It was planted deep but too high up on his broad chest to do any true damage.
The knight stopped struggling when Gautier approached. “Let me help with that,” he said, crouching.
“Shouldn’t we leave it there for now?” Lussier shook his head weakly.
“I’ve seen these sorts of wounds before. You’re going to bleed inside.”
Lying could come so easily sometimes.
Gautier seized the handle slick with blood and gave a sharp pull. It came out with a wet sound.
The wounded man shook with relief. He nodded. “You’ve done this before.”
Gautier nodded as he stabbed the dagger in the dirt beside his foot. Then, quick as a cat, he seized the man in a powerful headlock. A twist was all it took. Through the fabric of his habit, he felt more than heard the muffled, sickening crunch.
“And this as well,” he said through his teeth.
The lifeless body was still sliding toward the moist earth that Gautier was already out of the small clearing and charging after Guilabert. If he hurt her, there would be no solace in Gautier’s life as long as the knight drew breath.
Feared fuelled his mad dash into the forest. The roar of his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Leaping over a fallen tree, Gautier let the rope slide from his wrist but kept it in a fist in case he needed it. Branches slapped him, rocks and roots made him jump and skip and sidestep. He knew he was gaining on the knight, burdened by bits of clanking armor.
Still, he had to find her first. The consequences of not doing so flashed in ghastly colors. His throat constricted with fear. After everything she had gone through, hearing of her brother’s fate, being harassed for months then married against her will…because of him. Gautier gritted his teeth. Even as strong as she was, she would be no match for the demented knight. In addition, he had a sword. She had only rage.
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