‘Yes …’
His tone was so cold, his manner distant. He was still angry with her. She raised her head, holding the tears inside.
The wind from the sea was cool. It whipped about Marietta, blowing her cloak and her hair. She shivered, but it was not so much the wind but her thoughts that had turned her blood to ice water.
Marietta’s stomach turned as she felt his fingers grip her arm. He pushed her towards the water and she stumbled, almost falling. Sailors had got out of the rowing boat and were waiting to take their passengers on board.
‘You are tired,’ Anton said, and bent to sweep her up into his arms. He waded through the shallow water to where the boat waited.
Marietta’s tears were very close. The softer note in his voice had almost broken her, and it was taking all her strength to keep from weeping.
A sailor helped her into the boat. She murmured her thanks, staring back at the beach. The light was strengthening with every stroke of the oars but still there was no sign of pursuit. Claudette’s potion had worked well.
Marietta climbed the rope ladder to the deck of the ship, Anton’s presence behind her giving her the strength to pull herself up. For a moment she stood facing the shore, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes, her cloak hugging her body. She felt so cold, so lonely and afraid.
‘You must go below,’ Anton told her. ‘You are exhausted. Rest, and we shall talk later.’
Marietta inclined her head. As she moved away from him she saw Miguel watching her. For a moment his eyes held some smouldering emotion, and she knew that she had made him angry by insisting on waiting for Anton. She shivered, feeling cold, lonely and lost.
Left alone in her cabin, Marietta lay on the hard cot, listening to the sound of the water lapping about the ship. The light from the small porthole was dim, and it seemed cold and dark, almost like a prison cell. Her skin was prickling with goosebumps. She might soon find herself incarcerated in the King of England’s prison.
Marietta closed her eyes, forcing herself to rest. She was exhausted after the long ride, for she had hardly dared to sleep at the castle lest she was attacked. Her eyes flickered and closed as she drifted into a restless slumber, tossing and turning and crying out in her dream.
Though she did not know it, her cheeks were wet with tears.
‘I thought you might miss the tide,’ Miguel said as the ship weighed anchor.
‘It was as well you waited until the last moment, for had we missed the tide I should have been hard pressed to protect the Comtesse until I could find another ship.’
‘She would insist on waiting with Sandro! I tried to force her to come with me but she is proud and wilful.’ Miguel’s gaze narrowed. ‘You should be careful of her, Anton. A woman like that is dangerous.’
‘Surely you do not believe these stories of witchcraft and murder? Proud and wilful she may be, but the rest is false.’
‘There is no smoke without fire.’
‘They are but foolish tales. Believe me, Marietta is no more a murderer than she is a witch. The murderer remains at Montcrief.’
‘You did not kill him?’
‘He lay in a drugged sleep. Had he been awake I should have found satisfaction in making him confess his guilt—but I had a more important mission.’
‘You found what you wanted?’
‘Yes.’ Anton was thoughtful. ‘Excuse me. I have something to do below. We shall talk more of this later.’
He walked away, descending the iron ladder to the cabins below. Apart from the incident in the stables, and Marietta’s foolish decision to wait for him, everything had gone almost too well. Anton would have preferred a reckoning with the Bastard of Rouen, for he suspected that the man’s rage would know no bounds when he woke and discovered what had happened.
He hesitated outside Marietta’s cabin. She had suffered badly on her last voyage to England, but there had been a terrible storm that night. This day there were good winds, but no huge waves to toss the ship from side to side. Almost reluctantly, he opened the door and went into the cabin. He hesitated as he saw that she was sleeping.
Her arm was thrown out, her hair spread on the pillows, but she was not peaceful. She was dreaming and it seemed her dream disturbed her.
‘Forgive me … I love you.’ Marietta cried, and moved restlessly. ‘Please do not hate me … I love you …’
Anton frowned. Who was it that she called to in her dreams? Did she have a lover? Was she dreaming like this because she was guilty of some crime? His heart rejected the idea, though his mind told him that women could be faithless. He had believed that he loved Isabella but she had not returned his love. If the letter he had received were true, his wife had betrayed him with another man: the child she had carried when she died would not have had his blood. She had come to his bed that night so that he would not guess the truth. If Isabella could be so false, how could he trust any woman again?
Anton approached the bed. Marietta looked so beautiful. Something inside him reached out to her, despite his resolve not to let her into his heart. He wanted to take her into his arms, to hold her close and kiss away her fears. The temptation to touch her was strong, but he resisted. He should let her sleep, because once they reached England he must take her to London. Anton wished that he could save her the ordeal of facing the King’s justice, but he had no choice in the matter. He had been ordered to bring her before the King and must obey. Only if she were cleared of this crime would she be free of the shadow that would otherwise follow her wherever she went.
As he stood staring down at Marietta, her eyes opened.
‘What is it? Have we been followed?’ She pushed herself up against the hard pillows, her eyes wide with fear.
‘We are at sea. You are quite safe now.’
‘Are you still angry because I disobeyed you?’ Marietta’s voice caught with emotion. ‘I know you must think me foolish, but I could not leave while you were in danger for my sake.’
‘It was foolish, but I am no longer angry. If I spoke harshly it was for your sake, Marietta. Alone, I should have had little trouble finding a ship, but with you … some captains might have refused to take you. I am certain the first thing the Bastard will do would be to send out messengers offering a reward for your capture.’
‘I did not mean to cause you so much trouble. If I had stayed inside Lady Claire’s home in the first place I should not have been captured. It was foolish to walk alone, but I thought I must be safe at the house.’
‘And so you should have been. That was my fault. I should have guarded you better. It was perhaps a little foolish of you to go out alone in the circumstances, but I am not angry.’
Marietta swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood up. She gazed into his face uncertainly. ‘Are you not? I did not expect that you would come for me.’
‘You should have known I would. His Majesty ordered me to bring you to court. I was merely following orders.’
‘Oh … I see …’ Her voice trailed away. ‘I thought when you came … but that was foolish. You came for the ring, of course.’
‘Do not look like that!’ Anton said hoarsely. His need at that moment was so great that he hardly knew what he did as he reached out to take her in his arms. ‘I would have searched for you if it took me the rest of my life.’ He groaned as he held her pressed to his chest, burying his face in her hair. Why did she always smell so sweet? ‘I swore that I would never let another woman near, but you have bewitched me.’
‘No!’ Marietta pushed away from him. ‘Do not say such things. I have used no spells to bind you to me, Anton.’
‘I did not mean with witchcraft.’ Anton bent his head and kissed her. At first his lips gently brushed hers, and then the kiss intensified, becoming demanding, drawing a response from her. Her body arched into his, her arms about his neck, her fingers moving at the nape. ‘Only the magic that binds a man’s senses and makes him want a woman so much that it is agony to deny that need.’
&nb
sp; ‘Anton …’ Marietta breathed. Her eyes opened wider as she sensed his desire. Her body throbbed with need, but she was afraid to believe. ‘Do you truly want me? You want to lie with me?’
‘Yes, more than you will ever know.’ He drew away from her, his mouth loose and soft with aching desire. ‘You are tearing me apart, Marietta. I must take you to the King, but I will do everything in my power to persuade him that you are innocent of all the crimes laid at your door. I would not have you die. You must know I would give my own life to save yours.’
‘No, I should not want that …’
‘I will do everything I can. I give you my word.’
‘You can do no more.’ Marietta touched his face with her fingertips. Her body seemed to dissolve with wanting and need, moisture trickling between her thighs. Her lips parted on a soft sigh. ‘Do not torture yourself for my sake. If you are with me I shall not flinch. I am innocent. Please believe me. I would never have harmed my husband, though I did not love him.’
‘Did you have a lover?’
‘No …’ Marietta faltered. Her eyes met his steadfastly. ‘There was once someone I loved, but he did not notice me.’
‘And now?’
‘There is only you. You saved my life. I am grateful.’
‘I do not want gratitude …’ Anton moved away from her, turning his back. Her words had broken the spell that bound him. ‘I have things to do. If you need my cure for seasickness come to me …’
‘Anton …’
Marietta watched as he left the cabin. Why had she not told him that he was the only man she had ever loved? He had kissed her, told her he desired her—what more could she ask?
She shook her head, for the answer was foolish. Anton desired her. He might make her his mistress if the King did not have her condemned as a murderess, but love was merely a dream.
Chapter Six
Marietta slept for some hours before going on deck. It was close to nightfall when the shores of England came into view, and a cool wind had blown up. She thought there might soon be a storm and was glad that it had not struck while they were still in mid-sea.
Anton’s remedy for seasickness had not been needed this time. He had not returned to the cabin, and she would not allow herself to go in search of him. However, he came up to her now, as the ship anchored a short distance from the English beach.
‘You look much better, Comtesse Montcrief.’
‘Please … my name is Marietta. You called me by my name last night. I would rather you used it always, at least when we are alone.’
‘As you wish. We shall go ashore as soon as the boats are launched. This evening we shall stay at the nearest inn. I know of a decent one where we may safely lodge for the night. In the morning we shall leave for London. We shall be two days on the road and will spend at least one other night at an inn, perhaps more.’
‘Thank you for telling me, my lord.’
‘If I am to call you Marietta, you must use my name in return.’ He smiled at her ruefully. ‘Do not fear me, lady. I mean you no harm, believe me.’
‘I have always felt safe with you—even though I did not tell you my name at the start. I was afraid you might think me guilty of murder. I think at first you did?’
‘I was not sure,’ Anton admitted. His gaze was intense, seeming to search her very soul, ‘When I found you on the road I took your part, as I would that of any lady who was being attacked. I have tried to keep an open mind, but now I believe it was the Bastard who murdered your husband. He took the ring the Comte always wore, and must have done so as he lay dying. If it was not there when you were called to your husband’s bedside only he could have taken it—and so the finger of suspicion points at him.’
‘I am certain that you are right. My husband feared that his bastard might try to kill him and steal all that should belong to my son. For that reason he took precautions meant to protect us. The Bastard of Rouen needs my signature to release my husband’s gold from its guardians. He thought that once I was his wife he could force me—or perhaps he would not have needed my agreement then, for a husband’s will takes precedence.’
‘I do not know how French law stands, but in England your fortune would pass to your husband’s care. However, if your husband made you trustee for his son, your signature will be needed until Charles is of age. Without it, Rouen will find it difficult to persuade the goldsmiths to give up what is in their charge. They could be called to account by your son when he reaches his maturity; they will not lightly part with gold trusted to their charge.’
Marietta nodded her agreement. ‘Then that is the reason I am still alive. I refused to marry him, clung to my bed and pleaded sickness. I know my ruse made him very angry, but it gave me more time. Claudette promised to help me.’ She glanced back across the water towards France. ‘I pray that he does not take too harsh a vengeance on her.’
‘We left her bound and gagged. She need only plead that she was overcome.’
Marietta nodded. She remembered Claudette’s mad plan to be married in her dress. Perhaps she had thought better of it. She hoped so, for she would not be in Claudette’s shoes when the Bastard of Rouen discovered the trick.
‘You scheming witch! I swear I’ll beat you to a pulp! How dare you trick me so?’
The Bastard towered over Claudette, his eyes bulging. His neck was red with rage. He struck her a heavy blow across the face, sending her staggering back.
‘I am your wife.’ Claudette cried defiantly. Her eyes were very bright but she would not weep for mercy. ‘Beat me if you wish. It makes no difference. You have married me, and only my death can free you—for the church will not let you put me aside in favour of that witch.’
‘Damn you!’ The Bastard threatened her with his fist. ‘I’ll see you in your grave before I’ll let you ruin all my plans.’
‘Will you kill your own son?’ Claudette asked, facing him proudly. She placed her hands on her belly. ‘My son will be a legitimate child, and heir to all you have stolen from your fa—’ She got no further for the Bastard rushed at her, seizing her about the throat. She struggled, putting up her hands to try and force him back, but he was too strong for her. Her eyes widened in horror as his grip tightened and she knew that he meant to strangle her. Her mouth moved in a plea for forgiveness but no sound came, only a sighing breath. It was her last.
The Bastard let her lifeless body fall to the ground. He stared down at her for a moment and then laughed, lifting her with the toe of his boot and kicking her aside.
‘So end any that seek to defy me,’ he told the silent, watchful servants. ‘Steward, have my things packed and tell fifty of my men to be ready. We leave for England within the hour. They will have taken her back with them. This time I shall go after her myself, and she will follow that whore to hell!’
Marietta looked about the inn bedroom. It was sparsely furnished, but clean, and would serve her well, the bed softer than that on board the ship. She imagined it was more comfortable than the cell that might soon be her resting place—but she would not think of that! If her life was forfeit, so be it.
Kneeling, Marietta closed her eyes and prayed. Anton had promised to help her as much as he could, but the King’s word was law. She knew that Anton felt something for her, but was it merely the kind of passion that men often felt for an attractive woman? If he loved her he would surely help her to run away instead of taking her to the King? He had said little on their journey to the inn, seeming lost in his thoughts. Had she done something to anger him again?
Her thoughts went round and round in circles. God must know that she was innocent—but would He spare her? She had just risen to her feet once more when someone knocked at her door. Having asked that she might be served supper in her room, she thought it must be a servant.
‘The door is not locked.’ She turned as it opened and Anton entered. ‘Oh … I thought you were a servant with my supper.’
‘Forgive me. I came to ask if you would sup with me instead?
’
‘I am tired. I shall do better alone.’
‘Are you angry with me, Marietta?’ His gaze was intent on her face. ‘I should not blame you if you were—but I must do my duty.’
‘Why should I be angry? I thought I had angered you once more. You said little on the way here.’
‘I have much on my mind. Perhaps we could talk at supper?’
‘If I asked you, would you let me go back to Claire’s house? Would you let me take my son and go away—perhaps to Italy?’
‘Do you think it is easy for me to escort you to the King, knowing that he could condemn you to a terrible death?’
‘I do not know.’ She watched his eyes take fire. ‘If it distresses you why will you not help me to run away somewhere I am not known?’
‘This is what I wished to talk to you about.’ Anton’s gaze was intent on her face. ‘If Henry clears you of both crimes you will be free of the stain of murder and able to live as a woman of your standing should. Your son will be entitled to make a claim for his inheritance—which means I shall do it with your blessing and in your name, so that you are his guardian.’
‘You would do that for us?’
‘Yes, of course. If you run away again it will confirm your guilt in the eyes of the world.’ Anton’s voice was soft, caressing. ‘You would never feel safe, Marietta. You would spend your life looking over your shoulder, afraid that someone would recognise you.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ she said. ‘But supposing the King does not find in my favour?’
‘This is what we must discuss. Believe me, if judgement goes against you I shall not just stand by and watch you hang. Come down now and we shall make plans.’
‘Very well. If you wish it I shall come down.’
‘I do wish it. I believe we need to talk in private.’
‘We are private here.’
‘If I stayed here too long I should think of other things rather than talking.’ Anton smiled at her, but the flame in his eyes told her that he wanted her. ‘I do not think you are aware that the scent you wear arouses a man’s senses.’
A Wayward Woman Page 35