“How so?” Although Edlyn had explained that there was a son, it had also been made clear that he was not to be brought up to the lady. This might help explain why.
“Lady Margaret wanted to keep him here for another year, but Lord Orrick insisted ’twas past time for the boy to be set upon learning his skills. There was an argument….” Richard’s words faded off as he seemed to be remembering the words spoken. He looked back at her and finished the tale. “As is his right, Orrick sent him away and the lady was inconsolable, Alain being the only one of her three sons to survive to this age.”
“’Tis the way of things,” she answered, knowing it for the truth it was.
“Just so, Isabel. Now the lord grants every whim and wish his lady asks. Some say it is too much laxity in a man.”
“And what say you, Richard? Is Orrick too lax with his wife?” Royce’s voice broke into the conversation, startling both her and Richard.
“Royce, I heard not your approach.” Richard’s embarrassment at being overheard was clear in his expression. He stepped away from her and looked back and forth between Royce and her. “’Tis the lord’s decision to make, of course. No one would question that.”
Ah, but he had been and Royce had heard it. Would this cause a problem for Richard?
“I fear that my hunger for knowledge has caused Richard to misspeak. I asked of personal matters and Richard sought to give me answers.”
When she looked into his eyes, it was as if they were alone. The air between them crackled with the tension and the fury emanated from his very flesh. For a moment, she thought he was going to strike out.
“You push too hard and in the wrong directions, Isabel.” The coldness of his voice belied the message in his eyes. He was angry, very angry, at her. This had little to do with the lord and lady’s son; his words warned her about asking more about his past.
“I but seek the truth.”
“You ask too much.”
It was the flash of fear and vulnerability that she witnessed in the depths of his soul that made her flinch. He was not angry at some supposed breach of etiquette. He was terrified of her seeking out his truths, asking him for more than he could give. Gone in an instant, Isabel wondered if she had seen it at all. Richard, shifting his stance between them, drew her attention and she cleared her throat of its tightness.
“Sir Richard, I fear Lady Margaret is kept waiting for me in the solar. Mayhap ’tis time for you to take me there? Unless you would be so kind?” She turned to Royce.
“I have my duties to attend to, Isabel. And Richard should carry out his.” With a curt nod at them both, Royce turned and left.
Rebuffed again by his callousness, Isabel could not speak. Richard stepped closer and offered his arm. Accepting it, she walked silently back to the keep while considering Royce’s words. The puzzling aspect of this was that she knew not why this tension existed between them. Looking up at Richard’s profile as he guided her steps, she wondered at his reaction to this.
“Do not fret, Isabel. Royce is known for his dark temperament.”
“And does he inflict it on everyone around him or are we special in some way to receive it?” A distinct sensation of being harassed by words came over her and Isabel grew frustrated at being a target. Where these feelings came from, she knew not, but they were real to her. Were they memories from her life?
Richard let out a deep, hearty laugh. “He shows us no favor by this. Indeed, everyone here has been gifted at some time by his…intensity.”
“Not temper? Surely, he shows this not to Lord Orrick.”
“I have worked with him in many situations these past three years and have rarely seen a temper flare with him. But, once on a task, he clings to it with a single-minded intensity that can border on obsession.”
So she was simply an object of his obsession to carry out his duties. Found on Orrick’s lands, she must be protected. There was nothing else between them, no matter how much she believed it so. Or how much she might want it.
Her head pounded once more and she ached for her bed and sleep. Ever the attentive host, Richard noticed her weariness.
“This has been too long a walk for you. I will escort you to your chamber and then tell Lady Margaret you are indisposed. Fear not, the lady is gracious and will not require your attendance on her if you are ill.”
All Isabel could do was nod. The pain grew worse so she let Richard take her back to the chamber, where Edlyn awaited her. Assuring her that he would go directly to Lady Margaret with an explanation of her absence, the knight left her after bowing politely.
She endured the attentions of her maid only to hasten her descent into sleep. Within minutes, she undressed, washed and settled herself in bed and then waited for the growing silence of the keep and the night to soothe her to sleep. Edlyn would return later and share the small chamber. Still, this measure of privacy and luxury was a joy, unknown to most. Only the lord and lady enjoyed such privilege, if space were available for separate chambers.
Isabel felt herself falling into sleep’s grasp when the visions came. Loud words shouted at her. Reprimands and rebukes, on and on until her head ached from them. Accusations of not fulfilling her duties, not completing the terms of an agreement. Not always in a man’s voice, the haranguing went on, the tone never changed, the target never changed.
It was her. She failed at her duties. She failed to meet her part of the bargain. She failed to…
Trying to flee from the harsh blame aimed at her, Isabel ran until she found herself once more on the beach on that bright, sunny morning. Her sister grabbed her hands and they spun around and around until they were too dizzy to stand. Their gowns twisted around their legs, they fell back onto the sand and laughed. They tried to stand and ended up rolling on the beach until their maid stopped them.
Pulling them to their feet, she shouted at them to stop their foolishness. Her face, always kind, changed into something monstrous and scary. Her hands became claws, clutching and tearing Isabel’s skin as she tried to pull away. Then Isabel saw the dagger ripping her gown and felt its burning path through skin and down into her core. Struggling against the attack, she pulled herself away and tried to run.
The first blow broke her leg. She screamed at the anguish that cut through her as the club snapped the bone and threw her to the ground. Staying meant death and she was not ready to die. Pushing herself up, she dragged her body along until she could use a sturdy bush to stand.
They laughed at her efforts. So many of them. Her hair had come loose in the chase and she pushed it out of her face so she could see their attack coming. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she faced her death. Then the scene froze and a different voice came to her.
“I will always be there for you.”
“And I for you,” she answered as always. ’Twas the pledge of two sisters. The words of promise spoken over joined hands by two who had shared the same womb, the same birth.
They were twins.
Isabel came awake in an instant. Covered with sweat and with her chest heaving raggedly, she tried to remember the dream, or rather the memories. Her stomach rolled and bile threatened as the visions faded and her tears fell. Isabel despaired of ever seeing her sister again. Remembering her only as a child helped not, for she did not resemble the dark-haired girl in the dreams.
Tugging away the blankets that covered her, Isabel climbed out of bed. A moment of fear engulfed her as she felt the spasms in her leg and thought it broken again. Waiting for them to subside, she sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the tears from her eyes.
How could she continue in this way? Would her life ever be her own again? Her thoughts jumbled and she felt brainsick from it. Would she never sleep in peace again? Standing now, she straightened her sleeping gown and tried to replace the covers on the bed in some semblance of order. Edlyn had not returned yet, so Isabel knew that no more than an hour had passed.
She then walked over to the small window that was covered with
wooden shutters and pushed them open. Peering out into the night, she could hear the sounds of the ocean on the other side of the keep’s wall.
With its place high on a sea cliff, Silloth Keep commanded a strategic place at the opening of the Solway Firth. With one side facing the sea and three sides guarded by hill and wall, it was also formidable against attack. Edlyn had told her that on a clear night, the lights from fires on the Scottish side of the firth could be seen.
Watching the fog moving across the courtyard, Isabel wondered how she could survive in this purgatory. When no answer came to her, she tugged the shutters closed and climbed back into her bed, hoping that a less fitful night awaited her.
The expression on the guard’s face told him that the young soldier had considered refusing his order to open the gate. The hesitation lasted only a moment after William strode into the light of the torches that were set in the wall next to the barred doors. The standing orders were that none left the keep after the gate was closed and barred, but since he’d been the one to issue those orders, the soldier must have realized that to gainsay would be useless.
William waited until the gate had been secured and then walked through the village and down the path that would lead to his cottage. Hoping to burn out some of his frustration, he jogged a part of the way. Every time his thoughts turned back to the sight of her, he knew that putting some distance between them was the best of ideas.
Seeing her at the table with Margaret and Orrick and their other guests renewed his belief that she was born to the high table. Then he witnessed her growing paler until she closed her eyes and he thought she’d fainted. Lady Margaret recognized her distress just in time, for he was about to leave his place, hidden from Isabel’s sight by the crowd, to take her to her chambers.
What would she think if she knew that he had watched her as much as he could since turning over her custody to the lord and lady? William admitted to himself that he’d created errands and duties that kept him close to her in the past five days. After telling himself that ridding himself of her presence would repair the damage she had done, he added that to the long list of lies he’d told to himself and others since he had found her that night two months ago.
When he had followed Isabel and Richard too closely, his blood had boiled at their light and teasing tones. He found his hands fisted and even discovered one on the hilt of his sword. This physical reaction to her had to stop. He was losing more of his control with each day, and soon there would be so little left as to not signify.
He forced his feet to walk out of Silloth Keep every night for fear of following her to her chambers and kissing her the way he wanted to. He closed his eyes and looked away when he saw her talking to another man, especially Richard, since women seemed to find both his manners and his appearance pleasing.
She was temptation incarnate to him and he thought more than once that he would have to leave Silloth, to leave the people who had accepted him and the place that had given him sanctuary in his time of need. If she did not remember her life and return to it, he would not be responsible when the time came and the facade broke, freeing the monster he knew truly lived in his soul…the one who would not be denied anything, anyone he wanted. The fiend without conscience, without a soul, who had destroyed innocents in his quest for power and wealth.
Once in his cottage, with his gear stowed and his preparations for night completed, he reached for his protection, the only thing that seemed to still hold sway over his emotions and over the evil that he knew still lived within him. William carefully opened the top two letters from the reverend mother and took a deep breath to ready himself for the pain that always came with reliving the life he had damned his sister to with his actions.
Hours later, after burning several costly candles, his soul was still not at peace. The pain that usually cleansed him was fading and he feared its power would be replaced by something else, something he’d avoided for just over three years, something that would alter his life in an unpredictable way.
“He follows her whene’er he can.”
Orrick watched from a place high atop the keep as Royce trailed many paces behind Isabel. From here on the roof, he could see at least a league in all directions on a clear, sunny day. His courtyard he could see on any day. Now he stood and waited for his ladywife to make her thoughts known on this situation.
“And she hungers for any mention or sight of him, but will not say his name.”
“Hungers? Then this will pass as other passions do?” Orrick turned to his Margaret. “He has had other women.”
“He has not had her.”
Orrick was surprised by this. Anyone with half a brain and a pair of eyes could see the fire between Royce and Isabel. Surely his commander had… “You think not? Is that the problem, then?”
Margaret walked to his side, but would not look over the short wall that formed the edge of the towering keep. A fear from childhood kept her from enjoying the perspective he gained from these heights.
“There is more than one problem here, husband. They belong together.”
“And that’s a problem, Margaret? I see none, then, between them.” He was goading her plain and simple, he knew, but he was losing his patience with the man he’d come to trust and this unknown woman who was upsetting Royce’s life. He smiled when his wife whispered something under her breath, something foreign about men.
“He does not see her for the soul mate she is to him. He sees only the threat.” She was gritting her teeth now.
“Most women are threats to men in one way or another, my dear.” Orrick was pleased when she began to swear at him in French. The signs of her temper being riled were pleasing to him, for when full of life and emotions, Margaret intoxicated him. These months without Alain had saddened her deeply and it pleased him to see her take an interest in something or in someone finally, even if it presented difficulties in managing.
When her words involved slicing off certain male body parts, he grabbed for her and pulled her into his arms. She was startled but did not resist his embrace or his fervent kisses.
“If you do that, my love, think of the hours and hours of pleasure you would deny us.”
When she opened her mouth to argue, he kissed her deeply, his tongue tasting her as he plundered her lips. He felt her surrender to him and pulled her closer to stand between his legs so that she could feel the effect she had on him, even after their years together. Their passion, each for the other, once inflamed those many years ago had not waned at all.
Before he lost the capability to speak, he remembered their subject. With his hands on her shoulders, he leaned her away from him. “And what of him to her?”
Margaret took several breaths before answering. Ah, he thought with a strong sense of manly pride, he had not lost the ability to stir his wife’s feelings.
“She would be more to him, but she cannot until she knows her past.” Margaret released his hauberk and stepped farther from his grasp. “And she shows no sign of remembering it.”
“None? She remembers nothing?” Orrick had never seen anything like this before, in spite of Wenda being familiar with the condition.
“Daily life, she remembers. How to make candles and soap, how to tend the garden and which herbs do what, she remembers. But whose daughter or sister or wife she is, she does not.”
He was going to ask about her methods when she stopped him with a look. “I have taken her into the village and we have watched many of our people in their duties. I have exposed her to names and to the many responsibilities of a lady and she knows much, but knows little.”
“And now? What do you plan now?”
“It depends on you, my lord husband.”
He knew he was in trouble now. She never called him that unless she was dragging him into some scheme of hers. “Go on,” he said, waiting for her to disclose the details to him.
“If her memory does not return, she has two choices. She could marry.” Margaret paused and the glint in
her eyes warned him in advance that he would object to this coming portion of her plan. “If you or I would claim her as a distant cousin, a suitable husband could be found for her. Probably right within your own knights.”
“You would have me count a complete stranger as my own? For what purpose other than subterfuge and deceit?”
“Because Royce needs her. She is the burst of life he has been running from during these years in service to you.” Margaret’s brows tilted and her eyes gazed into his with a soft look that promised much. “Or she would make Richard or even Hugh a good wife.”
He burst out laughing as he realized her real plan. Richard and Hugh were simply distractions.
“So Royce is your true target of all these machinations, then? But you mentioned two choices. What was the other?”
Margaret smoothed her gown down and rearranged her headpiece. “She could enter the convent.”
Orrick laughed out loud again and earned another disgruntled look from his ladywife. “And tell me, fair Margaret, which convent would you suggest she enter?” He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot.
“Fine. Fine!” she shouted. “You can see my plan, but I will say it anyway. I think that she could enter the Gilbertine Abbey outside Carlisle. She could live as a lay sister until she knows if she is clear of conscience to take vows or not.”
Where her sister was abbess. ’Twould give Margaret another reason to spend more time away from him and he would not give her that. Better to seek a husband for the lady than to put her away in a convent. He did have several suitable men to suggest, men high in his regard whom he could gift with land when they married.
“I think we should consider suitable husbands for the lady and wait until her memory returns before forcing any decision on her part.”
She looked as though she would fight him on this, but he stopped her with a pointed finger. “You will yield to me on this, Margaret. ’Tis my decision as lord.”
Margaret capitulated to his power and nodded her head. “I accept your decision, my lord husband.” She took a few steps toward the stairwell and turned to him before entering it. “My solar is empty now, my lord, if you would like to join me there?”
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