by Phoebe Conn
“Of course, a most sympathetic man he is, too. Father Bernard is his name,” Marcela explained calmly.
Although she could scarcely think for the violent pounding of her heart, Celiese hoped only that the good priest had a back door to his chapel, or would offer sanctuary so she could escape the hangman’s noose or the executioner’s blade that she was certain Hrolf would swing himself. Sitting down upon the edge of the bed, she removed her right slipper, as if it were ill fitting, in hopes of gaining a moment or two more to devise some plan. Clearly Marcela had no idea of what was to happen, but as she glanced around the pretty bedroom she saw no way to escape the guard, for other than the door to the hall at which he stood, there was no exit.
Thinking she had perhaps brought the wrong pair, Marcela knelt down to help Celiese with her slippers. “These seem to be perfect for you; Gisela has many but these were new and she said you might have them.”
“Is this room near hers? If so, I would like to speak to her, to thank her for her generosity.” Celiese smiled warmly, as if she were making only a small request. She had no idea what sort of relationship the princess had with her Danish husband, but she prayed it was a good one. If Gisela would take her side, then surely Hrolf would not execute her without further thought. Perhaps she would pay a ransom herself rather than let her countrywoman be put to death so unjustly.
Puzzled, Marcela shook her head. “No, Gisela’s room is in the other wing, but I am certain you will see her later; when you speak with the duke she will probably be there. Now come, we must hurry.” Taking Celiese’s elbow, she helped her from the bed and escorted her to the door.
Jaret tried to appear bored, but he had found the lovely young woman’s slender body too erotic a sight to be ignored. Now he could hardly recall what his orders had been, but with a forced calm he took her arm and led her down the flight of stairs closest to the chapel. There was no sign of the priest, but he escorted his prisoner to the front pew and thinking she would like to be alone with her prayers went back to the door to stand guard.
Celiese clasped her hands tightly in her lap, trying only not to scream hysterically, but if the priest did not arrive in the next few seconds she would lose the thin grip she still had upon her composure. Just as a shriek formed in her throat, the brown-robed priest slid into the pew beside her. His features were hidden by the shadows cast by his hood, but she cared little what his appearance might be as she begged him to help her.
“Father Bernard, I have been told you are a good man, and I trust you are a fair one as well.” Giving him no opportunity to respond, she continued in a frantic whisper. The guard did not seem to understand French, but she wanted to take no chances on his overhearing her remarks.
“Perhaps you have heard my name, I am Lady Celiese d’Loganville and I was raised on an estate not far from Rouen. When the Danes overran our home my father was murdered and I was taken prisoner and spent more than five years in the home of a villain every bit as despicable as the man who now calls himself Robert and resides here as the duke.”
She hesitated no more than a moment, and then plunged on with her tale, revealing the love she had felt for Mylan from the moment they met. Swiftly she recounted their adventures, ending with the voyage that had brought her again to the shores of France.
“I was a fool to challenge Hrolf so openly, I know that now, but my home means everything to me. He means to kill me in only a few moments time, I am certain he does, but is there not some way you can help me to escape him? If only you will help me leave this accursed house, I can make my way out of Rouen and go to Yvetot where I can join my mother at the convent of Saint Valery. I will stay there forever if I must, but I will not die like this, not when all I wished to accomplish is still left undone. Please say you will help me, for you are my only hope.”
As she reached out to take his hands, the man moved toward her, his hood slipping back upon his shoulders as he turned. She saw only the bright gleam of the candles glow upon his golden curls and the menacing shine of his amber gaze, and she knew Mylan had betrayed her trust again, and this time most cruelly. All hope of saving herself gone, she could not catch her breath, and with a small-strangled sigh she fainted in a languid heap, falling into his outstretched arms.
Chapter 23
Having learned only a few words of French, Mylan had no grasp of the meaning of Celiese’s long frantic speech; he was completely bewildered when she collapsed in his arms. He sat for a moment, simply holding her tenderly in his embrace while he attempted to decide what was the most logical course of action. Realizing he could accomplish nothing until he revived her, he promptly turned his attention to that task first. When gentle coaxing had no effect he picked her up in his arms, carried her back to the sacristy, and laid her upon the priest’s small red velvet couch. He lit two more candles from the small one that had been burning upon the chest containing the vestments, and stood looking down at the unconscious beauty with a bemused stare.
It had been a week since he had last seen her, the longest seven days of his life, and as his perceptive gaze swept her delicate features he was surprised by the change in her appearance. She had been slender, but now she was thin, her high cheekbones clearly evident beneath her translucent skin. Her long, thick lashes seemed too heavy for her fragile eyelids to support, and he knelt down to brush her pale lips with a light kiss, hoping she would awaken and be pleased to see him this time, but she did not stir, forcing him to find a more effective method.
After a brief search, he found a flagon of wine he was certain had not been blessed for use in the Mass that was soon to be said, and he poured a small amount into a cup for her. Kneeling by her side, he propped her head upon his arm, brought the stimulating drink to her lips, and forced her to take several sips. “There, now open your eyes, you have nothing to fear from me.” Rising to his feet again, he placed the cup upon the chest, pulled the monk’s robe off over his head, and replaced it upon the peg where it belonged.
Celiese opened her eyes slowly, uncertain what to expect from Mylan now. He was dressed in the most splendid of apparel, looking very much like the favorite of the duke that he had become. His bliaud, or tunic, was a deep blue wool with embroidered borders of silver silk at the neck, sleeves, and hem, girded by a jeweled belt. He wore dark blue chausses, gartered with silken ribbons woven of the same precious thread that decorated his tunic. His black leather boots were new, as well. The fit of his clothing was superb; it had obviously been tailored for his sleek build rather than being merely borrowed. It was only his blond hair and light eyes that made him look less than the French nobleman he appeared to be at first glance.
She found her tongue at last. “I suppose I should be flattered you have bothered to dress in so handsome a fashion, but perhaps it is not simply for my benefit that you have done so.”
Confused by her remark, since it seemed to hold more of an insult than a compliment, Mylan pushed her feet to one side and sat down beside her. “I did not mean to startle you so badly by wearing Father Bernard’s cloak, but it afforded me an opportunity to speak with you before you see Robert, and I did not want you to go to him without being warned of what he will ask. I am certain you understand why I do not trust you to give him a reasonable answer on your own.”
Sitting up so she might face him squarely, she allowed herself to take a cautious breath before she dared hope the answer to her question might make a difference in her fate. “He means to kill me at dawn, doesn’t he?” she whispered softly, terrified that the duke had such a ghastly plan.
Mylan frowned, surprised by her question, and yet he would not lie to save her from a prospect that clearly had her badly frightened. “This has been a very long week, and a most tiring one, but you are safe for the moment. This day will not be your last unless you behave as foolishly as you did when last you saw the duke.”
Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she responded bitterly, “At least I have never turned my back on my friends.” Friend was too
soft a word, but she would not call him lover, for it implied too little, nor could she say husband, for the term implied far too much. There was no word to describe their relationship, but she knew when she had needed his help most desperately he had failed her in every way possible.
Disgusted by her misplaced anger, Mylan began to swear, then caught himself. “Is that what you think I did, turned my back on you? You are an even greater fool than I thought then, for the only reason you are alive today is because of me!”
Rising to his feet, he began to pace the small room with the seething power of a caged beast. His steps were even now; after much practice he no longer had to make a conscious effort to walk without limping and his stride was graceful and sure. Unable to contain his fiery temper, he released it in a torrent of frustration. “I obviously wasted my time, too. You have so little sense I should simply make you take the punishment you deserve.”
He was tempted just to walk out on her, simply to leave her on her own to face whatever Hrolf’s whims might be, but when he turned to give her a murderous glance her expression was so innocent, so devoid of guile that he was suddenly ashamed of himself for being so cross with her. She had provoked his anger with her insult, but now knowing she had misunderstood his motives so completely he sat down again by her feet to explain his actions in so calm a tone she could not fail to comprehend what his true feelings had been.
“I was more shocked than Hrolf, than Robert.” He corrected himself quickly, trying to remember to use the man’s Christian name. “I was appalled by the outrageous manner in which you chose to insult him when I had warned you repeatedly that we had to behave with the utmost discretion. You blurted out your grievances as if he would be powerless to retaliate.”
Lifting her chin, Celiese returned his accusing stare with a steady glance. “I know that was lunacy, but we seemed to be making no progress whatsoever in our true reason for coming here, and I had had more than enough of that hateful man’s company.”
Taken aback by that burst of unexpected anger, Mylan asked softly, “And my company as well?”
For a moment she could not find her voice to respond; a painful knot filled her throat and she had a difficult time forcing it away. “I have had very little of your company since we arrived here, for you seemed to prefer Hrolf’s to mine.”
He sighed sadly, beginning to feel his cause was truly hopeless. “Well, as usual, you were wrong.” Exasperated that she did not seem to see the justification for the most obvious of his actions, he had to force himself to continue.
“What choice did I have when Robert struck you? Had I jumped him at least ten of his men would have come running to join the fight, and I would have been thrown in the cell next to yours, and neither of us would have had anyone to help us regain our freedom. At least that is what would have happened if I had been lucky enough to survive what would surely have been a most brutal beating, if not a ready sword thrust through my back. If you think I wanted to see you lying in the dirt or dragged off to the tower you are mistaken, but I have to consider my actions fully before I take them, since you continually fail to see the consequences of yours until it is too late to undo them.”
When she did not interrupt, but instead sat staring at him wide-eyed, he was encouraged to go on. “So, rather than commit suicide by attacking Robert, I waited until his temper had cooled and proposed the most reasonable solution to the problem he faced with you.”
“Oh, I see, I am regarded as no more than a temporary problem that must be solved in the most efficient manner?” Her temper flared anew at that remark. “And just what was this wonderful solution you proposed?”
Mylan clenched his fists, staying the temptation to use Robert’s method of silencing her himself. “Have you learned nothing in this past week? I had hoped you’d spent your time thinking about what a terrible mistake you’d made in revealing your identity and resolved to control your willfulness, which could easily cost both of us our lives.”
Intrigued, she leaned forward. “But he knew I was here in France and had men out searching for me, Mylan; I heard Jaret and the other man who took me to the tower say so.”
Surprised she knew so much, after a moment’s hesitation, he shared the information he had. “Robert guards his lands jealously, but you’ve seen for yourself that what peasants remain to work the farms are desperately poor. Perhaps it was no more than one man passing the word of your arrival to another, giving him hope their lot would improve; then that man told someone else from the next village and so on until the news reached Robert’s ears. By then we had left your home to come here, but the peasants knew only that the beautiful Lady d’Loganville had been there to remind them of far better times and then had vanished. I had no idea men were searching for you until Robert told me after you’d been so foolish as to reveal your identity yourself. By then it was too late to work on anything more clever than a plan to save your life.”
“I am grateful you were able to do so,” she replied. Her head ached with a painful throb, and she still felt dreadful, weak and sick to her stomach. Perhaps it was only fright, but she had not thought herself as such a coward. “I am sorry to be so spiteful, but I’m afraid I’m going to be ill. I should not have drunk that wine.”
Alarmed, Mylan leaned forward to take her hands in his. Her skin was cool to his touch, but he could do no more than rub her fingers lightly to provide warmth. “Celiese, listen to me, this is no time to give in to such weakness. You must do as I say while Robert is of a mind to let me handle your defiance myself. I have no idea what ghastly alternative may occur to him tomorrow, but I’ll not risk any delay now that the advantage is mine.”
“Is this no more than a game to you, with the advantage belonging to Hrolf’s side or to yours?” she asked softly, fearing her fate meant little to him other than the challenge avoiding it seemed to present.
“Ours!” he corrected her sharply. “I have done little this week but work to persuade Robert that despite occasional fits of uncontrollable temper you are usually the most reasonable of young women. Now you must behave that way for both our sakes!”
His bright golden eyes shone with a demanding gleam, but after a truly miserably week, she was well aware his request was not a frivolous one. “Do you understand so little? I would never do anything to harm you.” She seemed to continually anger him, and she had not meant to do so when Hrolf was her enemy, not him.
Taking advantage of her more sensible tone, Mylan hastened to enlist her support for his plan. “All right then, now listen carefully while I explain what we must do.” Taking a deep breath, he hoped he could be concise as well as persuasive. “The time I have not spent with Robert this last week I have been with Father Bernard, for the only way I can remain here in France is to swear my allegiance to King Charles and to accept your religion as my own.”
“What?” Celiese gasped sharply, astonished he would even consider making such enormous sacrifices.
“Just be still and listen as I asked,” he cautioned sternly. Hoping she would be silent for another moment or two at least, he continued, “I managed to satisfy the good priest that my conversion to Christianity is a sincere one. I was baptized yesterday and have taken the name Michael, since it is a Christian name and closest to my own. Now we are going to be married again, in a Catholic ceremony this time, so that there will be no question as to whether or not you are truly my wife.”
“You would do all this for me?” Celiese was near tears; she was so touched by his gesture. It was so completely unexpected and so dear she was deeply moved, and yet she did not dare hope his actions had been motivated by love alone.
With a rueful smile, he warned her again to be still. “You have not heard all of this yet, Celiese. Robert needs men he can trust to be loyal to him in order to make his claim to the portion of French soil he has been given a lasting one. That I have a French bride as he does is all the better, for it ties his new rule to the old in a way even the most ignorant peasant can understand.
He will give me land to call my own in return for my promise to remain here and serve him loyally. Naturally, I asked for the estate of the d’Loganvilles, your home.”
When he paused to judge her reaction, Celiese could barely speak. Color flooded her cheeks. “My land will be yours, is that what you’re saying? That no matter what I do, my home will always belong to a Dane? If not to Raktor, or to Hrolf, it will belong to you?”
Insulted she would group him with such ruthless men, Mylan got to his feet and moved away. “I convinced Robert that you would do nothing to undermine his rule in this province, that you would be as loyal to him as I am willing to be. After we are married he wishes to speak with you. What you say to him will be your choice, but I can do no more than warn you in the strongest terms possible that what you are truly choosing is to live as my wife or to cease to live at all.”
“Why are you bothering to marry me? You will have my land whether or not I am alive, so what is the difference?” The advantage was indeed his as he had said, but she could see no reason for him to marry her when he already had everything he wanted without the unnecessary aggravation of taking her as his wife.
Mylan was ready to shout the vilest of insults when he recalled where they were and had no choice but to lower his voice and speak calmly. “I am bothering to marry you, Celiese, if that is the way you wish to look at it, because it will save your life. When you are usually so bright, why does my reason escape your comprehension so completely?”
He raked his fingers through his curls in a vain attempt to control his temper rather than turning her over his knee and spanking her as he would a naughty child. That was all she was, he realized with a start, a beautiful, headstrong child. “You are no more than seventeen, Celiese; you need a responsible adult to care for you, and I am willing to do it. Just be grateful for it.”