“Our signal.” He stepped away and whistled in a different way in answer. The man at the top waved again and then continued walking along the battlements.
She thought that the moment between them was over even as he wrapped her in his embrace again. “I suppose that your ardent wooing is over?” Her body now thrummed with a new need for him.
“If it is ardent wooing you want,” he said, kissing her lightly, “’tis ardent wooing you will get.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her away from the water. “There is a place farther up near the cliff that is suitable.”
“Suitable for what?” The tips of her breasts tightened at his words.
“Wooing,” he said as he dipped his head to enter the small alcove in the cliff.
He stood her before him and unhooked his belt. Leaning over to shrug off his mail, he pulled his hauberk and tunic off as well. Standing before her in only his hose and boots, she tried not to stare too much at the proof of his intentions. He followed her focus down and then smiled at her with the wicked smile she’d seen only once or twice before. The one that made her hungry for what he promised.
“Ardently,” he said as he took her in his arms.
It was not too much later that Isabel decided she could like ardent wooing.
Chapter Twenty
Once allowed to run free, he discovered that his love and his need for her was almost unmanageable. They had been reprimanded by the lady of the keep for their behavior, but when she burst out laughing at their explanation for Isabel’s wet, sandy and disheveled condition upon their return one afternoon, the message was lost. He did restrain himself more in front of others, but on those occasions when he arranged to get Isabel alone and in some place conducive to his aim, he wooed her ardently.
Nevertheless, deep inside him lived a kernel of fear that this happy ending would never be his. Mayhap it was caused by his guilt or his fear over his past catching up with him. Mayhap it was simply nervousness over the chance to marry the woman he loved. Whatever the cause, it was there, and no amount of praying it would go away or ordering it to cease helped to make it disappear.
August’s heat gave way to September’s cooling and the keep and those living there finished the harvests of the farmlands under Orrick’s control and continued the preparations for the coming winter. Wood was cut and stored, thatched roofs were repaired or replaced, animals to be slaughtered and salted were chosen and fatted.
William spent his days carrying out the duties entrusted to him by Orrick and spent his evenings with Isabel. Occasionally he managed to sneak into her chambers to await her return. A few times, he lured her out to the cottage in the forest. Most times he simply enjoyed whatever moments they shared.
If she remembered anything more of her life, she never said so. He would see her eyes glaze over as though she was watching her thoughts, but she denied any new knowledge whenever he asked her about it. After years of punishing himself for the sins he’d committed, William allowed himself to start anew. When Lord Orrick summoned him that early September morn, he had no inkling that his world was about to crash down around him.
“My lord, you called me?” William entered the solar after knocking, as was his habit. Orrick and Margaret were both present and neither one looked pleased with meeting him.
“This came from Brother Ralph. Since it concerns you, we thought you should handle it.”
William took the parchment from Orrick and unrolled it. He dreaded the news it would bring and, as he read each line, his worst fears were made real. There was a woman waiting at the abbey to ask about her missing sister. He closed his eyes and cursed the Almighty for this cruel trick.
“William, have you told her who you are yet?”
He whirled around at hearing his true name spoken. Lady Margaret stood next to him, watching him closely. How could she have known? For how long had she, had they, known?
“I am Royce.”
“William de Severin, we met once. Many years ago, when you served as page to Henri FitzEmpress. Some of the other boys teased you and chased you into an alley.”
He could not believe his ears. The incident had happened so many years before and so many important things superseded it that he had quite forgotten it. A lady, one of King Henry’s many mistresses, had saved him from serious injury with her appearance. A boy at the time, he had never paid attention to who it was.
Lady Margaret walked over and sat next to her husband again. William looked from one to the other. They knew. They knew him and they knew what he had done.
“I did not know you at first. You had changed so much since then. But I noticed the birthmark on your hand and remembered seeing it on that bloodied boy in the alley at Chinon.”
“Why?” Why had they never let on that they knew who he was?
“Quite simply, because you saved my lord Orrick’s life.”
William was stunned. Unable to focus his thoughts or to speak all the questions within him, he sat down hard on a bench near them. Holding his head in his hands, he felt as though he were standing in a quagmire with nothing firm to hold on to. Taking a deep breath, he realized he must face the man whose trust he had betrayed.
“My lord,” he said, standing once more before Orrick, “I have repaid your support with betrayal and lies. I cannot remain here, I know, but you should know how much the sanctuary provided has meant to me.”
Orrick rose and took him by the shoulders. If the lord saw fit to beat him where they stood, William would not fight back. ’Twas the least of the punishments he deserved.
“I have not asked you to leave. There is much to do before winter and I would have the service you swore to me. I am not willing to release you.”
“You and my lord can sort out what service you owe and what oaths were sworn at another time. At this moment, the important thing is whether or not this woman awaiting some answer of Orrick of Silloth is truly looking for Isabel or someone else.” Margaret pushed the men apart and picked up the scroll that he had dropped. “I ask you again, William. Have you told her who you are?”
Still overwhelmed to find out that they had known him, William could not answer. He could not tell Isabel about his past, his sins and his weaknesses. She would think him the monster he was if she discovered the lives he had ruined in his arrogant quest for wealth and power.
“I cannot, lady. If you know me, then you know she would revile me more than I already hate myself.”
“Tell her, William. If you love her, tell her and let her decide. Trust her and the love you share enough to give her the truth.”
“You cannot know the extent of my wickedness if you think that she will continue to love me when she hears of my sins.”
William watched as Margaret and Orrick exchanged a long and meaningful glance. Then they looked at him. “She could,” the lady said as she clasped Orrick’s hand in hers. “Seek her out before you leave to speak with this woman.”
William nodded, but the words of agreement stuck in his throat. He feared losing Isabel more than anything now that he’d had the chance to begin anew. His defenses were gone and, if he needed to barricade himself from those outside and go back to living the existence that she had banished, he could not.
He bowed and left the solar. For once he would disregard the advice of both lord and lady and first determine the identity of the woman waiting at the abbey. For all he knew, this woman could have been part of the plot to kill Isabel and he would be placing her in danger if he revealed anything about her.
The ride to Abbeytown would give him time enough to try to pull his concentration and the shattering pieces of his life back together. By the time he arrived there he would surely have figured out a way to survive the terrible reckoning he could feel approaching.
Brother Ralph greeted him warmly and showed him to the prior’s chambers. He would say nothing of his letter or of the woman as they walked through the courtyard and into the building that housed the prior, the clerks and the other lay br
others who assisted in the running of the abbey. Soon he was asked to wait and then left alone. Steeling himself for whatever came, he tried to calm down and regain his composure.
The door was opened in a few minutes and Brother Ralph escorted in a lady with her two attendants. He stood and bowed to her as they were introduced.
“Lady Alianor of Hexham, this is—” Before Ralph could finish, the lady interrupted.
“Lord Orrick? My thanks for coming to meet with me.”
Brother Ralph stammered and stuttered in that way that many monks had when confronted with a woman of great vigor. Queen Eleanor had that effect as well.
“Actually, my lady, I am Royce of Silloth, Lord Orrick’s man in this matter. How may I be of assistance to you?”
Brother Ralph excused himself as quickly as possible and the door slammed behind him. Rather than being insulted, the lady laughed and sought a chair a few paces away. “I seem to have that effect on some men. Although my husband urges me to temper my behavior, he has learned to live with it.” Soft laughter came from her two companions who stood a respectful distance away.
“Your husband, my lady?” William had paid no attention to the political alliances and intrigues since leaving John’s court and could not recollect who she might be related or married to.
“I have the honor of being wife to Guy, the Earl of Hexham, sir.” He recognized the name. A powerful man from a powerful and well-connected family.
“What help can I offer the Countess of Hexham?”
She paused and looked at the two women with her. Without a word, they curtsied before her and started to leave the room. One opened the door and nodded to her. “Still there?”
“What is it, my lady?”
“A man following us. I thought he was sent by my husband, but we know him not.”
“A thief, perchance?” William walked to the door and peered out over the woman’s head. “Where?”
He looked in the direction where the woman nodded and caught only a glimpse of the man in question. Too well dressed for a thief, he thought.
“No matter. My lord husband has sent along enough guards to protect the entire kingdom from an invading army.”
She waved the women off and then sat back down. As soon as they were alone, she caught his glance and held it. His heart almost stopped as he realized that she looked at him with Isabel’s eyes. The same shape and color, the resemblance was unmistakable. Not willing to give up information yet, he bowed his head and waited for her to speak.
“Pray, be seated, Sir Royce. Your journey was a swift one and there is wine or ale if you need refreshment.”
“I have made this ride countless times, my lady. I am well.” He did sit so that she could not see his legs shake.
“I am here on a private matter and have been told that I can trust Orrick as a man of discretion. Does this go for his man, also?”
“It does, my lady. I will keep in confidence, except to him, anything you share with me.” And most likely keep it from him, as well, William thought. “If this is a private matter, is your husband aware of your visit here?” He needed to find out how many were involved in this.
“I would not be here without his support. He knows every detail of my undertaking.” She smiled at his insolence in asking such a question.
“And your undertaking is…?”
“I seek my sister.”
“She is missing?” he asked, holding his breath for the answer he knew was coming.
“Actually she is dead, sir.” She was watching him, assessing his reaction to her strange words. He frowned and laughed.
“Is this some kind of a sham, my lady? Why do you seek your sister if she is dead? Should you not look in the place she is buried if you wish to offer prayers for her soul?” He could feel the sweat beading on his lip and trickling down his back. Could this really be Isabel’s sister? Had she been involved in the attack?
“Pray forgive me, Sir Royce. I should begin at the beginning so that you understand about my search.” She stood and he began to rise until she waved him back into his seat. “My sister is the eldest daughter of Charles, Duke of Richmond. I am his second daughter, but Anne and I are separated by only minutes.”
“Twins?” he whispered. He tried to keep his expression one of polite interest, but had no idea if he was succeeding or not.
“Yes, twins, although not identical. She is dark in coloring and I am fair, however we share the same shade of eyes.”
’Twas at that moment he realized that he finally knew her name—Anne. But would she ever be anyone other than Isabel to him?
“As befits the daughters of a duke, we were betrothed to the sons of great families to cement alliances and to smooth over some old disagreements. Anne was married to the nephew of the Duke of Lancaster and I, as you already know, to Hexham’s heir. My husband has recently ascended to this title and inheritance with the unexpected death of his father.”
“My condolences on his passing,” he said politely. “And your sister passed away, also?”
She turned and stared at him. She seemed to be deciding how much and how to say what was on her mind. “She did not pass away as you say, sir. She was murdered, plain and simple.”
He shifted on his chair at her accusations. “And your proof of this accusation?”
She looked at him and he noticed the tears in her eyes. Lady Alianor sat down and wiped her eyes before continuing. “I have no proof, sir, other than in here.” She touched her chest over her heart. “I would know if she were dead. I would know.”
He ached to reach out to her, but he dared not. In her pain, he could hear the echo of Isabel’s words and her grief. “Where is she buried? Did you help prepare her for burial?”
“Oh, nay. Her husband’s family took care of that before we were even given the news.”
“Her husband was so grief stricken, then? He had the burial quickly?” William probed this sore spot.
“The only good thing that cur of a husband did was die with her.”
“I apologize, my lady. I am confused. Her husband is dead, too?”
She was talking about Isabel.
Merde.
“I ask your pardon, Sir Royce. I am making a muddle of this. My father was told that both Anne and her husband Edward were attacked by brigands on their way back from a pilgrimage to the cathedral in Carlisle. Only his body could be recovered from the attack and was buried quickly because of its condition.”
“It seems very clear to me, my lady, that your sister and her husband are dead. Yet, you do not believe this?”
“Anne and I shared many things as children. One of the things I treasure the most is the special bond between us that tells me when something is wrong with her and the same with her.”
“I have heard of such things. And this bond tells you what?” He asked in spite of knowing exactly what she already knew—her sister was alive.
“Sir Royce, I would know if my sister were dead. I would have felt her death. And I feel only her distress. She cannot be dead.” She twisted her hands in her lap.
He waited for her to calm before speaking. In his mind he could hear Isabel, Anne, telling him of hearing her sister’s voice guiding her out of the marshes the night of the attack and urging her to go on. He wanted to scoff at the outrageous notion that two people could be connected in this way, but there seemed to be something between them.
“What, other than these feelings, makes you think that something other than the reason given you caused her death?”
“I was distraught when I received the news. I have not seen my sister since just after our marriages were held five years ago.”
“So long?” With the families mentioned spread out over England, it would not be unusual for visits to be limited. But with two sisters as close as these were, not seeing her in that long would have been alarming.
“Her marriage was to repair a breach in trust between Lancaster and my father. They are not friends, but with Anne’s marri
age, they are not enemies. My father and Edward’s father and uncle would have been pleased to never lay eyes on each other again. Anne,” she said sadly, “was caught between them.”
William stood and walked to where the prior had set out wine and ale. He poured two cups and handed one to Lady Alianor. She sat and sipped it slowly. He waited again as she collected her thoughts. He fought within himself against the urge to ease her pain by telling her the truth—that Anne was alive.
“What was there that made you suspicious about her death? And, I did not ask you, when did this happen?”
“This would have taken place in early June. We were told that Edward and Anne had traveled to the cathedral to pray for a child. Although I have been blessed twice with sons, Anne has not been so blessed.” She held out a hand to him. “Sir? Are you well?”
He did not feel well at all for the bile churned in his gut at her words. This was the basis of Isabel’s husband’s hatred and the reason for his plan to kill her. She had failed to give him the heirs required of such marriages. William swallowed and took a mouthful of ale to keep from throwing up.
Isabel’s tearful plea the night she followed him in the storm repeated in his thoughts. What failure on my part caused a hatred so deep that he would kill me over it? Trapped in an unfruitful marriage with no way out was a good enough reason, it would seem.
“Do not worry over me, my lady. I have been suffering a sour stomach for a few days.” Probably the guilt stirring his insides.
“I journeyed to the cathedral myself as a penance for my part in this. While there, I spoke to some of the monks who told me that Edward’s party did not head south toward Lancaster as we’d been told, but that they traveled instead in this direction.”
He did not forget the first part of her statement, but focused on the second. “What was their destination? Where do—where did they reside?”
“Edward received a keep in Allonby. They were retiring there to pray for God’s mercy and to make all attempts to fulfill the terms of their marriage contract. That is not far from Silloth?”
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