Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance)

by Anna Markland

  Dumb.

  She looked down again at the body on the rocks. Unlikely as it seemed, she felt some connection with the woman below. Could it be?

  She remounted, directing the animal along the cliff top. “Find me a path, donkey.”

  Within minutes she was praying hard as the sure footed animal picked its way down a rocky path that twisted and turned many times before she was delivered to the beach, panting and sweating despite the chill of her rain soaked clothing.

  She dismounted on shaky legs and hurried to the body lying face down on the rock, frustrated by her shoes bogging down in the wet sand.

  She strained to turn the woman over. Her face was bruised and there was a bloody gash over one eye. But there could be no mistaking the hair. Even plastered to her head, Rosamunda’s untidy locks betrayed who she was. “Rosamunda Lallement,” Letyce gasped, a flicker of hope sparking in her breast.

  A maelstrom of conflicting thoughts assailed her. She wanted to laugh in the girl’s face and ask her if she knew she was marrying a eunuch.

  She had a notion to bash her head against the rock and finish her off, then Adam de Montbryce would have no one. Serve him right.

  But there was still the problem of Malraux. No doubt he would come after her as his sacrificial offering for All Hallows’ Eve. Here was a perfect substitute, handed to her by the saints. Not a dwarf, but the dwarf’s sister, and a muette to boot.

  Her heart lurched. Pray God the woman was still alive.

  She shook her shoulders. “Wake up, wake up, Rosamunda.”

  La muette coughed, flailing her arms, but did not open her eyes.

  Letyce took hold of her hands. “Be still. You are safe now. I will take you to your sister.”

  Rosamunda peeled open one eye, frowning as she squinted. She grunted a noise. Letyce was not sure what she was trying to say, so she shoved the ends of Paulina’s cloak into Rosamunda’s hands. “See, Paulina’s cloak. We escaped from Malraux. Evil, he is. She is safe. I will take you to her.”

  Rosamunda fingered the fabric, bringing it close to her face. Another unintelligible grunt. How did this woman make her way in the world without the gift of speech? Such creatures had no place in Letyce’s world. Better she provide sport for Malraux. At least, better her than Letyce.

  She helped Rosamunda to her feet. The blond swayed against her, holding a hand to her head, but seemed to have no broken bones.

  Weighed down by wet clothing, the two exhausted women staggered like drunken serfs to the donkey. Letyce tilted her head to lick a few drops of rain from the air to soothe her parched throat. “Hold on to the saddle.”

  Rosamunda clung to the pommel, resting her head on the saddle. Letyce’s knees felt they might break as she crouched to put her shoulder under the mute’s derrière. “Climb up,” she wheezed.

  It took several attempts to get Rosamunda atop the donkey. Letyce feared the dazed woman might yet fall off as they ascended the steep path. “Hold tight,” she urged, pressing her hands atop Rosamunda’s.

  As she led the donkey up the path, it occurred to her this was a lot of effort to save a life that would be sacrificed to Malraux’s evil. As she fell to all fours at the top of the path, breathless and aching, she shook her head. This was about saving her own life, not Rosamunda’s. But she was exhausted. “I’ll have to leave you here. We will never make it together. I will come back, with Paulina.”

  The sun was high in the sky when she dragged Rosamunda from the donkey, helped her to the shelter of a rocky overhang, tucked Paulina’s cloak around her, remounted, and rode off to retrace the path to Malraux’s estate.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Adam struggled to the surface, gasping for breath. He raked his hair off his face, rubbing the salt from his eyes. Rosamunda was nowhere to be seen. Panic gripped his vitals.

  Denis popped to the surface not far away, coughing and spluttering, his thick hair covering his face.

  Adam swam over to him, feeling the tug of the current. The one thing Denis feared was deep water. He had never learned to swim. Adam threw an arm around his brother’s chest. “Don’t fight me,” he rasped. “Lean back into me.”

  Denis obeyed. Adam scanned the water frantically, looking for any sign of Rosamunda. There was none. If he let go of Denis to dive down and look for her, his brother might drown. But he had to try. “I have to let you go.” He took a deep breath. “A moment only.” He eased his arm away from Denis. “Kick like hell.”

  He dove beneath the surface, searching the clear water for any sign of his beloved. Only when his lungs were ready to burst did he resurface. Denis was still afloat, but his drawn face betrayed his belief he was about to die. “Rosamunda?”

  Adam shook his head, again clamping his arm around his brother. “Current—too strong.”

  He kicked out for the shore which did not appear to be far away. Exhaustion numbed his limbs as he dragged Denis with him. It occurred to him swimming would be easier without his sword, but he determined not to discard it if possible.

  Once in shallow water, they crawled to the beach on hands and knees, coughing up sea water, then collapsed on the sand, breathing hard.

  Denis rolled to sit up, his knees bent. “Merci, mon frère for my life. That was a close call. I have to learn to swim.”

  Adam too sat up, his head in his hands. “The current was strong. You may not have made it anyway. It probably carried Rosamunda further down the coast. We must search for her.”

  Denis came to his feet. “But Paulina.”

  Adam looked up sharply into the green eyes of the brother he loved. Denis feared for Paulina as Adam feared for Rosamunda. Time was of the essence. If they spent time searching for Rosamunda, they might be too late to save Paulina from Malraux’s evil intent.

  If they abandoned Rosamunda, she would likely die, cast up on some lonely shore if she had not drowned already.

  And where was Vincent Lallement?

  As if conjured by the thought, Vincent staggered from the water and collapsed next to Adam, looking up at the sky, his chest heaving.

  Adam shoved his shoulder. “Turn over before you choke, Vincent.”

  Vincent rolled over onto his side. “Where is my sister?”

  Denis studied his feet. “We don’t know.”

  Vincent sat up abruptly. “You mean she drowned?”

  Denis shook his head. “We don’t know.”

  Vincent lunged at Denis, grabbing the front of his cloak. “It’s your fault, insisting we come by sea.”

  Denis made no effort to fend him off, but Adam wrenched him away. “I am as desolate about Rosamunda as you are, but it is not Denis’ fault. We were aware of the dangers. Now we must decide the next step. We have no horse, and no idea where we are.”

  Vincent relented, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, looking out to sea. “The second problem might be remedied if that’s our crew struggling to shore yonder.”

  Adam’s heart lifted. The men were Bretons who might be familiar with the area. He and Vincent strode out to help the sailors to shore.

  As the men recovered their breath, Adam pondered their next move. He itched to strike out on foot to find Rosamunda, but night would draw in soon, and everyone was already shivering in wet clothing. “We must get dry before we do anything else. Scavenge for driftwood and kindling. Call out Rosamunda’s name as you go. She may be nearby.”

  He turned to the older Breton. “Do you know the area?”

  “I do, milord.”

  “Is there adequate shelter in the trees?”

  The man rubbed the stubble of his dark beard. “There is, but if memory serves, there’s a cave around the cliff.”

  “Is the tide coming in or going out?”

  “Going out, milord.”

  “Very well. We’ll search for the cave and build a fire there.”

  As the other men set off in search of wood, Denis remained with Adam, his face a mask of pain. “It is my fault we are in this situation. Now we have
both lost the women we love. Can you forgive me?”

  Adam clenched his jaw, his gut filled with a dread that Rosamunda might not survive a cold wet night alone somewhere. He refused to believe she had drowned. He offered Denis his hand. “There is nothing to forgive, brother. Come, help me locate the cave.”

  ~~~

  Malraux de Carnac was warming his backside by the hearty fire, when a servant came to him with a surprising message. He had lost patience with Roget’s inefficiency and had spent most of the day working on the scaffolding that would be used to haul the chosen virgin to the top of Le Manio. It was heavy work lifting sturdy wooden poles in chilly temperatures. It had numbed him to the bone and filled his fingers with irritating splinters.

  On the morrow he would either have to select a girl from the village, or go in search of Letyce, who surely could not have gone far on a donkey.

  Now a woman had turned up at his door, seeking entry. His mouth fell open when a bedraggled Letyce was shown into the Hall. Despite her rain soaked state, his shaft stood to attention. Something about the woman fired his blood.

  She did not avert her eyes. In fact her demeanour was bold. “You seem surprised to see me,” she said cockily.

  Malraux stroked his beard. “You were not anxious for my company when we parted.”

  She sidled up to him, thrusting her breasts provocatively. “You were being cruel. It was not my fault the dwarf escaped.”

  He brushed his thumbs over her rigid nipples, then squeezed hard. “But someone had to be punished.”

  She gasped, throwing back her head, but then she flounced away, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “That someone isn’t me. I have a better idea.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “The dwarf’s sister.”

  He arched his brows. “The mute?”

  She rolled her eyes suggestively. “The same.”

  Malraux scoffed. “And where might she be?”

  Letyce’s expression hardened. “I know where she is, but before I deliver her to you, I want your oath I will not be harmed, and a guarantee you will see me safely back to England.”

  Malraux laughed. “And how can you be sure I will keep such an oath?”

  Letyce smiled seductively. “You are many things, not many of them good, but you are not a man to forswear an oath.”

  He chuckled inwardly. For all her flighty ways, Letyce knew him. “Very well, take me to her.”

  ~~~

  Uncontrollable shivering racked Rosamunda. She thought she heard men’s voices calling her name, but had no will to rise from beneath the rock under which she seemed to be wedged. They would not hear her grunted pleas for help.

  As her wits slowly returned she recalled being suddenly plunged into the cold, swirling water that had quickly swept her away.

  But now she was on land, wrapped in what appeared to be Paulina’s cloak. A woman had helped her. Was it her sister?

  Red hair. The woman had red hair. Paulina’s hair was dark. The only person of her acquaintance with red hair was Letyce Revandel.

  The memory filled her with dread. It was Letyce who had helped her. Why? Letyce hated her. There was no good intent here. The hore had likely gone off to seek help, but who would she bring?

  Malraux de Carnac.

  Rosamunda dug her fingers into the rough surface of the rock, trying to ease out from its shelter. Sharp pebbles dug into her back. She managed to sit up. Pain sliced into her eye. She touched her forehead and her hand came away bloodied. The landscape tilted as she squinted into the gathering darkness.

  She did not see Letyce until the woman was upon her. She crawled away, but came up against the legs of a man standing beside her.

  “In a hurry to go somewhere?” a familiar voice oozed.

  Rosamunda scrambled away, but Malraux picked her up, though not without some effort. “You’re wet, and that’s a nasty gash you have. We’ll take care of it once we get to my demesne.”

  He threw aside the cloak tucked around her. “One less wet garment. I’ll keep you warm.”

  Rosamunda struggled against him, but he held firm and she was too weak to persist. She wept as the memory of being held safe against Adam’s chest swept over her.

  Malraux put her over his shoulder as he mounted, then settled her on his lap. “You should be grateful to Letyce. She saved your life. I am grateful.”

  She felt his hard maleness beneath her as they rode. Icy dread numbed her body. Malraux was not an honourable man. Before he took her life, would he take from Rosamunda what she longed to give to Adam?

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The village outside the walls of Carnac was seemingly quiet as night fell, but Malraux was sure a hundred pairs of eyes followed their progress, everyone anxious to learn if he had chosen his virgin of Le Manio.

  They had ridden by way of the famed rock and he was satisfied all was in readiness—the scaffolding, the platform and the windlass with its pulley and rope.

  He had hoped to put a fright into the mute, but she had passed out, and it was Letyce who shivered uncomfortably.

  For effect, he reined to a halt outside the cottage of a village elder. “Brébeuf!” he shouted.

  The door creaked open and an elderly man appeared. “Milord?”

  “Tell the rabble they can rest easy. I have my virgin here safe in my arms. Make the bonfires and other celebrations ready. We want to ensure this is the best All Hallows’ Eve Carnac has ever seen.”

  Brébeuf brightened considerably, eyeing Letyce, then the girl in Malraux’s arms. “I’ll see to it, milord.”

  “Peasants are so predictable,” Malraux observed as they made their way into the courtyard of his home.

  Roget rushed out to meet them, taking Rosamunda from Malraux, who dismounted then regained his prize. “Follow me, demoiselle Revandel. You will watch over my virgin and make sure she survives until the morrow’s festivities. Otherwise I shall be forced to choose someone else.”

  Letyce stumbled from her horse. “But you gave me your oath.”

  He laughed. “An oath is only good if both sides keep to the bargain. You promised me Rosamunda Lallement as my virgin of Le Manio. You had best pray she fulfills her role.”

  ~~~

  The cave had proven to be a godsend. It had a natural chimney and the castaways built a hearty fire that one or other of the Bretons kept going all night. Its heat permeated the rocks, drying the clothing arrayed on them.

  “Not completely dry,” Adam declared, tossing Denis’ doublet at him, “but wearable.”

  Denis sniffed the garment with distaste as he shrugged it on. “Stinks of smoke.”

  He pulled a strand of hair in front of his nose, flinging it back in dismay. “In fact I reek of it.”

  He had not slept, and was aware Adam had not either. All Hallows’ Eve had dawned, grey and damp.

  Denis felt the need to make amends. “Anxious as I am to get to Carnac’s estate as soon as possible, I agree with you we should search for Rosamunda.”

  Adam’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “The old Breton says there is another cove around the headland. Perhaps if we search there? He knows the way to Carnac. That will save time.”

  Denis stretched. “I’m hungry. The hares the Breton lad snared last night were tasty, but I could have eaten more.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “You and your appetite!”

  They doused the fire and set off in the wake of the sailor, picking their way over craggy rocks and tide pools. Denis spied a tiny crab in one, but it snapped its pincers on him when he pulled it out. “Merde,” he exclaimed, sucking his finger. “I should have skewered it with my sword.”

  “Then what?” Vincent mocked. “Eat it raw?”

  Denis screwed up his nose, deciding it might be better to remain silent and ignore the rumblings in his belly.

  They reached the neighbouring cove. Denis went down on one knee in the sand beside a rocky outcropping. “Someone has been here recently. The tide has not
yet obliterated their footprints.”

  Adam hovered over him. “Small feet, a woman. Non! Two women. See! The imprints are different. They lead to the path.”

  Excited, they followed the trail up the path. Close by a rocky overhang, the tracks became confused. Denis walked further on, studying the terrain. “Horses. One ridden by a man judging from the new footprints.”

  Vincent picked up something from the ground. “It’s a child’s cloak.”

  Denis hurried back to him and grabbed the garment, his heart in his throat. “This is Paulina’s. I gave it to her at East Preston.”

  He turned it inside out. “There’s a special pocket—for Topaz.”

  His voice cracked and Adam lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “If we follow the tracks we will find our ladies. I feel in my heart Rosamunda was here.”

  Denis blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Pray we are in time.”

  ~~~

  It was early afternoon when Adam, Denis, Vincent and the Bretons flopped to their bellies to peer over a rise at Carnac’s demesne and the village below it. Men tossed bits of wood onto already large piles. People moved about busily. Laughter and happy chatter drifted on the air.

  “Seems like any other village preparing for All Hallows’ Eve,” Vincent observed.

  The old Breton shook his head. “Carnac is like any other village, except on All Hallows’ Eve. People come from the surrounding villages and countryside. The lord of the demesne must have chosen a sacrificial virgin; else the villagers would not be so happy. They live in fear of his choice each year.”

  Adam turned to face him. “Where is this rock he supposedly throws women down from?”

  The man pointed. “Two miles from here, beyond the field of smaller rocks you see in the distance. No supposing about it, milord. I’ve seen it myself. It turns the young men into a pack of salivating wolves waiting below for the maiden to drop. Except wolves hunt together. Here they come to blows trying to be the one to save her.”

  Denis gritted his teeth. “And the one who does gets to claim her as his wife?”