Isabeau’s spine stiffened. “I didn’t think it would.” She wouldn’t be so foolish as to throw away the one thing that had protected her thus far, just as she wasn’t so foolish as to imagine Abigail’s interest sprang from any concern for her welfare.
“Then you had best keep your distance. Take it from me. He has a habit of letting his passions get the better of him.” With that, Abigail turned on her heel to stalk down the corridor, her back as straight as a blade.
Isabeau stared after her. There was a note of possessiveness when Abigail spoke of Dominic—not the motherly sort one would expect. Apparently Dominic wasn’t the only one who couldn’t control his passions.
It reminded her of the argument Alec and Dominic had had when Abigail and Darcy first arrived. The implications of their conversation, coupled with Abigail’s warning, turned Isabeau’s stomach.
What in God’s creation had Fortin got her mixed up in?
No doubt, ‘twas Abigail rather than the wine that had prompted Alec to order her to the high table this night. Though, she could no more stop Dominic from drinking than a fish from swimming. They had only just met. She barely knew him. Why should he listen to her and not heed his own brother.
If some unholy pact did exist between Dominic and his step-mother, she would prefer not to know, much less become involved. Though, it could hardly be deemed thus when Abigail was the only interested party.
Worst still, Fortin expected her to lift her skirts and provide Dominic with cover. The unconscionable tyrant! How dare he throw her to the hounds! In this case Abigail, who made it perfectly clear she would tear her to shreds if she so much as looked at Dominic sideways.
Which she could not very well help when Fortin forced her to play his brother’s keeper.
***
“God’s breath! How could you let this happen?” Lord Agnew’s voice shook with anger as he strode for his mount, tethered under a stand of pines at the edge of the wood. “Isabeau was to be safely married by now and out of our hair.”
Barak glowered at his father’s twin bloodhounds, Ram and Talbot. “I told you to wait to tell him until after we returned to the hall.” He handed his longbow to his squire, resisting the urge to cuff both of their dull, black heads, then fell into step behind his father.
He cursed the day Nicola and Isabeau had been dropped at their door. Would that his father showed half the concern for him as he did for his cousins. He couldn’t even enjoy an hour of hunting with his father, without them plaguing him. “Had you betrothed her to one of our allies in the north as I suggested, she’d have been off our hands by now.”
“To Newbury?” His father paused with his foot in the stirrup, the craggy features of his face turned cynical. “You know very well my sister wouldn’t agree to that. The man’s too coarse for her liking. She jumped at a stranger’s offer over him.”
“Yea, and at what cost? The dowry is gone and one of our best men lost.” Not to mention the fact that he’d almost been killed, though his father showed little concern over that.
“She’ll have no choice now. I’ll have my alliance and she’ll see her daughter wed.”
“If Newbury will take her.”
“He’ll take her.” His father swung into the saddle, with a satisfied smile curving his lips. “‘Tis a valuable alliance, now that he’s fallen out of favor with the King. He needs Guilford’s support from the east to keep the Scots at bay. He dare not risk insulting me.”
‘Twas true. The Scottish King, David, won more and more English land every day, thanks to King Stephen’s inept rule. Warring with his cousin Matilda had divided the country—left it weak. Newbury needed them as much as they needed him.
And that was why, they must get Isabeau back. Still, he chafed at giving that bastard Fortin one more piece of silver. “You’ll pay Fortin’s ransom after what he did?”
“’Tis our only recourse.” His father frowned down at him. “With Beaufort to back him, Fortin is beyond our reach.”
Barak ground his teeth in vexation as he watched his father canter away with Ram and Talbot following close at his heels.
His father might be willing to bow to Fortin’s demands, but he certainly wasn’t. ‘Twas good coin they could ill afford to waste. If there was a way to get Isabeau back without paying the ransom, he’d find it.
And once he had her back, Fortin was a dead man.
***
A gentle breeze fluttered through the branches of the willows, rustling the faded pink blossoms of the rush and water-mint, sprouting at the water’s edge. Isabeau picked her way over the smooth stones of the river bottom on bare feet, shivering, wading deeper and deeper until her entire body was all but swallowed up.
When Abigail ordered her to accompany the two laundresses from the village she could hardly believe her luck. It seemed Abigail did not trust them to handle her fine garments with care. But Isabeau suspected more devious reasons. Abigail would like nothing better than for her to escape, or drown—anything to keep her away from Dominic.
No wonder Alec was so determined to protect his brother.
She didn’t blame him, but neither was she willing to be a part of his little game.
When Myrtle hustled into her bedchamber that morn to summon her to the high table for breakfast, Isabeau pleaded ill. As Fortin’s prisoner she could not refuse his summons, but he could hardly insist when she provided a viable excuse. Fortin was stubborn, but he wasn’t likely to drag her below stairs if he thought her gagging over a bucket.
But, as fate would have it, on this lovely morn, Fortin’s plague of family intrigues had won her a refreshing dip in the river.
The two maids from the village had declined to join her, scurrying off with their baskets of laundry to hang over bushes to dry. Isabeau would join them anon. In the confusion of preparing to depart for the tournament, Fortin would hardly miss her.
Isabeau scrubbed from top to bottom, lathering herself with the bar of mint-scented soap she’d smuggled in her sleeve, then tossed it up onto the grassy bank for safekeeping.
The water chilled her flesh, threatening to turn her limbs numb, but no matter, she welcomed the delicious tingle it brought to her skin. The freedom of enjoying a solitary swim made her smile as she floated on the current under the warmth of the morning sun.
If only she could have used this opportunity to escape. But ‘twas not possible to steal a horse with the courtyard bustling with Fortin’s men as they prepared to depart for the tourney. And, without a mount, she was not likely to get far. Being lost with a reliable steed for warmth and companionship that could out run trouble was one thing, alone on foot quite another.
If she’d learned anything from Fortin, ‘twas to have a good plan in place.
When she rolled back over onto her stomach, Isabeau discovered she had drifted further than she ought. Rather than fight against the current to return to where her clothes lay bundled under the willow, she paddled to shore.
The sound of men’s voices gave her pause as she neared a stand of alders at the water’s edge. She huddled down between two slippery rocks skirted with feathery willow moss and held her breath.
“What makes you think he’ll accept your challenge?” A rough voice inquired.
“He’s badly in need of coin. Why else would he risk taking her in the first place?”
Her heart gave a leap. She knew that voice as well as her own. ‘Twas her cousin, Barak. She opened her mouth to call his name, then remembered her state of undress and clamped it hastily shut.
Rot!
If only she hadn’t drifted so far from her clothes.
‘Twould be madness to reveal herself to Barak stark naked.
He’d surely ravish her on the spot.
Or mayhap not.
He could not marry her to Newbury unless her virtue was intact.
Still, she dared not take the chance. Even if she did trust him, which she did not, modesty forbade her from leaping out of the cattails stark naked before a p
arty of men.
Newbury.
In the excitement of possible rescue and the elation of cheating Fortin out of the ransom, she had almost forgotten about him. But, mayhap she worried for naught. Her parents had already opposed the match. Surely they would do so again.
A tickle on her arm made her look down. A huge water spider was crawling up her arm.
A scream welled up in her throat.
The beginning leaked out, passing through her closed lips in a small squeak. But, she managed to squelch the rest.
“What was that?” Barak said.
“I didn’t hear anything,” one of his henchman said.
“Talbot’s a mite windy today,” the other one said.
Isabeau held her breath, watching the spider, cringing at the feel of its legs on her skin.
At the sound of hooves she plunged down in the water slapping the spider off.
She came up shivering with revulsion.
She peeped out between the trunks of the alders to watch them pass.
Barak rode abreast of Talbot and Ram—the monster twins, as Maddie so aptly named them, since their minds were as unbalanced as the sharp features of their face. Their attention, much like the half score of men who accompanied them, appeared trained on Highburn, but they did not turn that way, instead they continued on toward Langley’s lands.
As they moved away, Isabeau began to pick her way over the pebbled surface of the shore below the sloping bank. If she could just reach her clothes in time to hale them, all was not lost. She might cheat Fortin out of his ransom yet.
By the time she snatched up her chemise at the base of the willow they were still insight. She jerked her blue kirtle over her head in all haste. But when she raised her arms to wave, they had picked up speed and were already cantering away.
Rot!
There was no hope of them hearing her now.
She lowered her arms, squeezing her hands into fists, her entire body gone rigid with vexation. If Barak knew how close he had come to rescuing her without so much as a coin, he would have been just as distraught.
Or would he?
A note of relish accompanied his voice when he spoke of challenging Fortin. What was he up to?
Barak was not in the habit of upholding family honor unless there was something in it for him. Nor did he fight fair. ‘Twas likely he would land her in more trouble than she was already in.
But how could she stop him?
Attempting to reach Langley’s on foot would prove fruitless, as Fortin’s party had yet to depart and would only overtake her on the way. ‘Twould be wiser to join the two maids from the village ere she was missed. But, teetering on the edge of freedom as she was, she could not make her feet move in the direction of the keep.
Instead, she paced under the willow by the river’s edge, combing her fingers through her damp hair.
If only Lord Guilford had come rather than Barak. Her joy would be complete. Nicola must have received her message by now. Why had she not sent the ransom? Had Lord Guilford forbid it? Nay he would not. He was the truest and kindest of men.
The heavy thud of hooves turned her around.
Fortin galloped toward her across the meadow, his erect carriage and the width of his shoulders identifying him a furlong away.
A thrill ran through her at the sight of him.
Her heart raced in time with the destrier’s feet.
She hastened to slip on her shoes, then waited with an air of unconcern.
He pulled Mercury to a halt before her, looking less than pleased. “‘Twill be a great blessing when you’re off my hands. We’re ready to depart for the tournament, and you, my lady, are holding us up.” His gaze roved over her slowly, from her damp hair to where the breeze fluttered the hem of her kirtle.
She lifted one brow. “Did your stepmother find our scrubbing lacking?”
His eyes narrowed. “’Tis I who scoured the bushes searching for you.”
Her lips twitched at the thought of him lifting the corners of the bed-linens with the tip of his sword. She shrugged. “The river looked so lovely I decided to take a swim.”
“And what if someone had come across you so ill-disposed?” His voice held a harsh edge. “What would you have done then?”
This was so near the truth her cheeks flamed. “Hide, I suppose.”
“Hide? With that hair, shining under the sun like a king’s ransom in gold.” He shook his head. “God’s teeth, Isabeau! By the time your family come for you, I’ll be as drunk as Dominic.”
Little did he know her family had come. Not the family member she wished for, but one did not complain when one was being held against ones will. “If guarding my virtue is such a great hardship,” she said, slashing him a brazen smile, “Let me go.”
He scowled. “Come.” He reached down a hand. “Dominic’s chomping at the bit to be gone.”
“Must you lock me away ere you leave?” she taunted, accepting his hand. “Don’t you trust me to be here when you return?”
“Nay, I do not.” He hauled her up onto the saddle in front of him. “That’s why you’re coming with me.”
Her heart thumped hard against her breast, though in truth there was no place she’d rather be than at the tournament to view the result of Barak’s challenge and know her fate. “Why?”
“’Twill calm Dominic to know you’re there.”
She turned in the saddle to regard him, but discovered his lips so close she quickly did an about face. “What makes you think I wish to help you?”
“‘Tis my brother who needs your help, not me.”
“Yea, but in helping him, I also help you.”
“You hung on his every word last eventide. Is your heart so fickle to change in the length of one day?”
His sharp rebuff took her aback. Against her earlier better judgment she swung round to face him once again. “You bade me attend him. ‘Twas not my wish!”
“Yea, and you readily rose to the challenge.”
She could not believe what she was hearing. ‘Twas almost as though he was jealous. “Dominic is a good man.” She turned away again, expelling a small huff of air. “I thought it only right to return his kindness.” She felt his body stiffen behind her. “Besides, as your prisoner, ‘tis not as though I could refuse.”
“Nay, you could not,” he said so close his breathe tickled her ear.
A shiver raced down her neck. “What makes you think I’m so fool-hardy as to risk your stepmother’s wrath again?”
“Is that why you pleaded ill this morn? Because you were afraid?”
“Nay!”
“Or is it me you’re afraid of?”
She wriggled away, intent on leaping from Mercury’s back.
He tightened his arm around her waist.
And a good thing, ‘twas a long way down as she discovered after a quick glance toward the ground. She sat still after that.
“Don’t lie to me, Cherie, as anyone can see you’re as fit and ready for a fight as you always were.”
Her hackles rose. “You’re calling me disagreeable? Let me remind you, who’s holding who against their will.”
He chuckled next to her ear, sending shivers rippling over his skin. “Look at it this way, if you don’t help Dominic, you’ll be helping Abigail. Is that what you want?”
He was right of course. It seemed she was trapped. “Very well. I’ll do it for Dominic,” she said in a conciliatory tone, as though she was doing him a favor, at the same time hating to let him think he was winning. But whatever happened, she must attend the tournament. There was no disputing that. “I shall have to change.”
“I bade Myrtle lay out your clothes.” The confidence behind his words dispelled the belief that she had any choice in the matter.
It made her wonder why she’d imagined a softening in him toward her of late, or any jealously on his part for that matter. Mayhap she wanted it to be so. Despite his deception, she understood why he should want compensation for what her fa
mily did to him.
She didn’t blame him, but only wished it had never happened in the first place.
But there was no sense in hoping for what could have been.
Whatever Barak was up to, was certain to drive a greater rift between them.
If Fortin did not hate her now, he soon would again.
Chapter Ten
Barak’s yellow mantle floated behind him like the tail of a hawk as he strode toward his blue domed tent.
Alec stood with Dominic at the entrance of his own tent, his gaze marking Barak’s progress with a mixture of suspicion and regret. Though why he should regret handing over the Lady Isabeau and finally gaining the ransom that was due him, he did not know.
He had desired many women—had many women. Why then was it so bloody difficult to give this one up?
Mayhap ‘twas the frustration of knowing he had kept his passions under tight rein for naught.
Barak had not raised the issue of her virtue once. It seemed the blood coursing through her veins was enough to secure a prosperous match. Any man who married her would gain protection under Agnew’s steel fist.
“You don’t have to do this,” Dominic said. “Let me fight in your stead.”
Alec resisted the urge to laugh. After two hours on the field, smeared in blood and dirt, his breath labored, Dominic was obviously spent. Yet, as usual his courage outweighed his good sense. “Tis a kind offer, but I can fight my own battles.” Alec swept aside the flap of the tent to duck inside, where William hustled about readying his lance and shield.
“Barak may have pledged to pay twice the ransom if you win,” Dominic said, following close on his heels. “But can you trust him to produce such a treasure?”
“Agnew will put up half and Newbury has pledged to put up the rest.”
“Newbury…‘tis a familiar name.”
“His younger brother held Highburn before their family fell out of favor with the King.”
“So, Agnew hopes to strengthen his position in the North through an alliance of marriage.”
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