The Norman's Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  She had remained detached, resisted the sorrow of his story until that moment. His anguish and torment over his sister’s punishment in his stead and for the terrible acts he’d committed poured out of him and she held him in her arms, letting him gain some measure of comfort after all this time. Anne had never seen a man cry and this tore her apart.

  “Because of me,” he cried out. “Because I was weak and I was evil. Because of my actions and mistakes, she will suffer always. I should have died that day,” he gasped. “It would have been less painful than living with the knowledge of what I did to her and to so many others.”

  Several minutes passed and they sat without speaking. She cried silently with him for all the sins he had committed and for all that he had lost as a result. Surely God in his mercy had forgiven him? Finally he quieted and sat back against the wall. Dragging his sleeve over his face, he took another deep breath and regained control over himself.

  “So, for three years I have not seen her. I left Harbridge and even England for a short while, fighting wherever I could find someone to pay me. I would send back whatever I could through a monk or a traveler visiting the Gilbertine convents across England. I tried to die so many times that I’ve lost count of them, but it would seem that my punishment is to live with the knowledge of what I have done.”

  “And then you found Silloth?” He had found a true sanctuary there, as she had.

  “I was drifting at that time. I avoided any place I had visited with John or in my younger days. I came upon an unfair fight between some outlaws and a nobleman, although Orrick was holding his own for a while. When they took advantage of his injury, I stepped in. I did not see their third companion and ended up in worse shape than Orrick.”

  “The scar on your back is from that fight?” She remembered seeing it when he undressed the first time, after they fell into the stream, and could almost feel it now under her fingertips. It ran the length of his back.

  “Aye. Margaret had sent out a search party looking for him and they brought both of us to her. She stitched me back together and offered me a place in their household for saving Orrick.”

  “Sanctuary,” she whispered. And a place where he could do penance for his sins. Three years of penance, giving up all comforts and simply existing.

  “They asked no questions of me or about my past, which suited me well. I told them I could promise them nothing, but an honest effort for a place at their board. They agreed and you know the rest.”

  He stood and took her by the arms, lifting her onto her feet before him. “I do not expect forgiveness from you, Anne, but the fault lies within me. I did not protect Catherine in life, but with me dead, Emalie’s husband, the earl, continues as he pledged. She is cared for and hidden from John and his vindictive actions. So long as he thinks me dead, she is worthless to him. If William de Severin lives, she becomes his target once more.”

  “So William must remain dead and buried?” She understood now why he could not return with her. He nodded. “And Royce of Silloth?”

  “Must live out his life without attracting any untoward attention. He stays in that little corner of England where royalty never treads. And when I found out for certain who you were, I knew it was over. The love you brought me, the love I did not deserve, could not be. You are the daughter of a duke and I cannot offer you anything unless I take my place as the son of an ancient and noble family from Anjou. And I cannot take that place without endangering Catherine.”

  She never thought she would welcome his kiss again, but when he touched his lips to hers, she drank him in, accepting his love for one final time. Her heart knew this was their true farewell and that they would never have this again. Anne felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and knew ’twas over.

  She reached up to touch his cheek, but he turned and kissed the inside of her wrist as he had so many times before. Then, before she broke down completely, she had to ask him one more thing.

  “This was not about my barrenness?”

  “It was never about you, Isabel. ’Twas never a failure in you. ’Twas always about mine. And falling in love with you was a weakness on my part since I knew from the start that no good woman would have me once she knew about my past.”

  She nodded. “Goodbye then, Royce.”

  “Goodbye, Isabel.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Anne heard some movements in her room before she entered, but thought that her sister was simply restless in her sleep. She closed the door quietly and undressed for sleep. Finding some water in a jug, a basin and a cloth, she poured the cool water over the cloth and held it to her eyes and nose. Swollen from crying, she waited for some relief. A noise from the bed got her attention.

  Alianor lay under the covers and was faking sleep. Anne smiled at memories of this game from when they were children. She walked over quietly and dribbled some water on her, awaiting a reaction. Her sister sat up, admitting detection and defeat. ’Twas then that Anne noticed Alianor’s eyes and nose were swollen and red, too. When she would not meet her gaze, she knew the truth.

  “You listened? To all of it?” Tugging down the blanket she held revealed that she was still dressed.

  “Of course,” she said, sliding back to make room for her. “You would never tell me.”

  “It was private. You should not have eavesdropped.”

  “He loves you.” When she turned away to replace the cloth, Alianor grabbed her hand. “He loves you, Anne. Do you love him?”

  She nodded because she could not say the words.

  “What do you plan to do now?”

  “I think I should stay here.”

  “Here? As in here at this convent?” She nodded again and her sister burst out laughing.

  “You, a nun? I think not! You could not obey mindlessly whatever they tell you to do.”

  “I am old and wiser now. I have learned…” She could think of nothing to say.

  “Older and wiser, my arse! You will be thrown out within two months of settling in.” Alianor pulled her into a hug. “Do not do this. Think, think about what your life would be like here.”

  “It would be peaceful. It would be challenging. And people would not die because of me.”

  “Ah. Father’s war has you worried, then?”

  Anne smacked her on the leg. “Alianor, you are so irreverent. You should not speak of war so lightly. People will die if I come back with you.”

  “But most of them will be the worthless Lancastrians. ’Twould be a service to the world to rid England of a few more of them.”

  “Alianor!”

  “’Tis true! But back to your problems. Other than losing a few…you know, why can you not take your place with us?”

  “There is nothing for me. Father could not arrange another marriage since I am barren. ’Tis an impediment to a true marriage. Should I sit at home with mother and embroider the rest of my life?”

  “And here? You would do what?”

  “Anything that needs doing. Sew, clean, cook. Care for the sick.”

  Alianor flinched with each word. “It will not work.”

  “I have no choice. I cannot return with you.”

  “Anne, I cannot lose you. Not now.”

  Anne gathered her sister close and embraced her. “Fear not—I will always be there for you.”

  Anne slid back and removed her headpiece. Loosening her braids, she knew her sister still had something to say.

  “He meets with Sister Genevieve before prime tomorrow. Something about a package to pick up and some supplies for Lady Margaret.”

  “And you think what? That I should go to him and beg him to keep me?” Anne slid off the bed and threw the cloth at the basin, splashing water everywhere. “He is not ready to love.”

  Alianor rubbed her forehead and grunted. “Not ready to love? Did you hear anything he said tonight?”

  “He kept the truth from me. Not only about you, but also about himself. He did not trust me with his past.” That was the w
orst part for her. He said he loved her, but he did not trust in it.

  “It takes some time for men to speak of their love and to learn to put their trust in a woman. It took Guy months and some drastic action on my part before he could admit to loving me.”

  “Alianor, what did you do?”

  Her sister sat with an angelic expression as she outlined her attack on Guy’s heart. “First, I threw out his leman.” At her gasp, she explained further. “Ours was an arranged marriage, Anne. I did not expect love from him immediately, but I did expect him to give up his mistress or, at the least, not flaunt her to me.”

  “But, Alianor, ’tis a husband’s right.”

  Anne received a hand in the face, waving off her words. “Mother already gave me that lecture and I did not like it then or now. I had fallen a bit in love with him and did not want to share him. So, after I rid the castle of Madeleine, I took him prisoner in our chambers until he admitted he loved me.”

  “Are you certain he did not say the words just to escape you?” She could not believe her sister’s actions. But, thinking back on her as a child, mayhap this was not so surprising.

  Alianor thought about her question before answering and a strange look came into her eyes. She shook her head. “Nay. He did not just say the words to escape me. He gave himself to me that day.”

  The poignancy of her answer touched Anne.

  She wanted that. That confidence in the love someone held for her. ’Twas not meant to be hers, she feared.

  “You accuse him of not trusting you with his past,” she said. “Can you trust him with your future?”

  Anne could not answer. She walked to the other cot and lay down. Pulling the covers up to her shoulders, she thought about all that had been said and thought and felt. Surely the answer was in there somewhere?

  William took the packages from Sister Genevieve and promised her safe delivery to Lady Margaret. He ran into Isabel, damn it, Anne, as he left the prioress’s room. She looked well rested and content. Good. Hopefully his words had given her some measure of release from the unnecessary guilt she carried.

  “My lady,” he said, moving aside. “I did not see you there.”

  “I have been waiting for you, Royce.”

  He looked toward the gate and saw the traveling party of the Countess of Hexham leaving. Isabel, Anne, stood before him. “Are you not returning with your sister?”

  “Nay,” she answered, shaking her head.

  “Are you staying here at the convent, then?” He could not picture her being happy here, but it was not his place to judge her plans.

  “Oh, nay. Lady Margaret and Sister Genevieve pointed out that I would not be happy here.” She leaned in and whispered, “They said I had too much of my sister in me to ever hope to take orders.”

  He thought he must have had too much of Connor’s brew again, for nothing was as he thought it would be. Isabel, damn it, Anne, was cheerful and pleasant to him.

  “Then where will you go?”

  “Silloth. Margaret and Orrick have offered me a place at their board.”

  He reeled back at her words. She was coming to Silloth? He shook his head. How could he live there and live without her? This was more than he could deal with. He would have to leave. How could he watch her and not be able to love her?

  “They have suggested that I consider marriage to Hugh or to Richard, but I know that no good man will have me since I cannot give him children. All I have to do is find a man who is not good.”

  With so many disjointed thoughts going through his mind, it took him some moments to figure out her teasing way of asking him to marry her. Could it be true? Could they do this?

  “You trusted me with your past last night and my love for you is still here, Royce. Can I trust you with my future?”

  “Isabel, damn it, Anne,” he said.

  “Isabel is fine. It is my name now.”

  “Is this truly what you want to do? Please, tease me not for I could not bear to lose you again.”

  She stepped closer and answered him. “In all seriousness, I cannot openly return to my family. The war which cost my eldest brother his life will be revived to gain vengeance in my name and I stand to lose too many. So my death gives them a chance at life, much as yours did for your sister. I can trust her people to keep my secret.”

  He nodded, understanding her choice as she had his.

  “And returning to Silloth?”

  “Margaret and Orrick did make that offer to me, a place there with or without you. However, Margaret and Alianor both suggested ways to be certain that I would return there as your wife.”

  “Will you be my wife? Be mine always, come what may?”

  “I will, Royce. Come what may.”

  Epilogue

  Silloth-on-Solway, England

  October, 1198

  He dragged her off the horse and kissed her breathless. Until, that was, his men began to cheer and whistle at his actions. He tugged her hand and took her away from the building site. She went with him to the edge of the stream and behind some trees.

  “I have missed you, wife,” he said, in the possessive growl that made her blood run hot.

  “I have missed you, husband.” She returned his kiss and resisted the urge to undress him further. He was working in only his breeches and boots with his chest bare and his hair pulled back revealing the strong chin she loved to kiss.

  “If you continue to look at me with that hunger in your eyes, I will never get this house built in time for winter.” He kissed her once more and then took her hand. “Come, walk with me.”

  Anne told him of her journey with Lady Margaret and of the package she’d retrieved for him. She took it out of the saddlebag and handed it to him. He looked at her and she waved him off for a few private moments of reading about his sister Catherine’s progress. William had shown her the other letters on their return to Silloth and he shared each new one with her as they arrived. To receive this one so closely to the last one could mean something good or bad.

  His expression was one of disbelief when he returned to her side. “Have you read this yet?”

  “No. I would never read it before you.”

  “The reverend mother’s news is incredible. ’Twould seem that the Earl of Harbridge’s younger brother is to inherit his lands in Poitou and he has chosen Catherine as his bride.”

  “Pardon?” She could not believe these developments. Well, since the news she had for him was of the unbelievable kind, mayhap she should not be so quick to judge.

  “The letter says that in spite of many obstacles and the initial objections of the earl, Geoffrey and Catherine marry in three weeks, on their return from Poitou.

  “Married,” he said with a smile. “Mayhap the Fates have decided to be kind to the de Severins after all?”

  “I am pleased with my de Severin,” she whispered.

  He folded up the parchment and handed it to her carefully.

  “There is more news, Royce.”

  “More news? Share it with me.”

  How did she say this to him? “I spoke to Wenda today about my tiredness and lack of appetite.”

  “For food,” he added with a seductive smile that had caused this.

  “For food. ’Twould seem that your ardent wooing has had some results.”

  “I am tiring you out with too much of it?”

  “Nay. Aye,” she said, smiling at him. “It appears that I am not barren after all.” She waited for it to make sense to him.

  His roar drew the other workers to them, even as he took her in his arms and spun her around. She laughed and laughed until he stopped and held her close.

  “I told you it was no fault of yours.”

  “You are correct as usual, husband.” William kissed her over and over and then she heard him whisper.

  “Come what may.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7846-6

  THE NORMAN’S BRIDE

  Copyright © 2004 by Theresa S. Brisbin

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