Her Dark and Dangerous Lord

by Anne Herries

  ‘Have I made you angry?’

  He shook his head, an odd smile on his lips. ‘You fill my house with the scent of lavender and then ask if I am angry. I do not know how to answer you. The perfume of lavender brings happy memories, but grief and bitterness taint them. If I am angry it is not with you, but with a world that is oft cruel and unfair.’

  ‘Yes, life is cruel,’ Anne replied, a frown creasing her smooth brow. ‘Do you think it is God that makes it so or do we hurt each other…is it our nature to be cruel?’

  ‘You have an inquiring mind,’ Stefan said and laughed. ‘It is not my way to ponder such things, Anne. I accept and deal with life as it comes. If you wish to discuss the meaning of life, you must ask Ali to debate with you. He will be happy to talk of these things for hours. I am a man of action and I do what I have to do.’

  ‘That is why you became a mercenary,’ Anne said, for he had revealed more than he knew. ‘You were cheated of what was yours and had nothing. The only thing you knew how to do was fight.’

  ‘Perhaps…’ His expression was harsh, because he fought the memories that might have softened him, made him vulnerable. ‘I shall not prevent you making my house a home if it is your pleasure, but do not forget that you will leave here as soon as you remember who you are and whence you came.’

  Stefan turned and walked from the room. She probed too deeply, disturbing him with memories he could not fight, touching places inside his mind that had been forgotten these many years. She was beautiful, and the more he saw her, the more he understood that her beauty was not just of face and figure. She was a lady such as his mother had been, gentle, compassionate, spirited and loving. Women like that were not intended to be taken lightly and discarded, as he would a mistress. They worked their way into a man’s heart, stealing his soul and making him soft and destroying him. Stefan had known only whores and women who cheated or betrayed. A gentle, loving woman was a new experience, something he must avoid at all costs lest she made him weak!

  The sooner they discovered who Anne really was and returned her to her family, the better!

  Anne wore a thin wool cloak over her gown as they rode. When the horse was brought out she had been terrified, imagining that she was meant to ride it alone. It was a great, black, highly bred Arab and Anne had known that she would never be able to control it. However, she had soon realised that she was meant to ride pillion behind Lord de Montfort.

  ‘I was not sure if you could ride,’ Stefan said and gave her his hand to help her on to the saddle, mounting immediately in front of her. ‘Besides, I think it best if you ride with me for the moment. You have not long risen from your sick bed and I would not have you grow faint and fall. You may hold on to me if you wish.’

  Anne held on to his belt, but did not put her arms about his waist. Three armed men accompanied them; two she thought must be French and a third was English. The Lord de Montfort seemed to have surrounded himself with odd characters, for each of the men had some mark or disfigurement. One had lost two fingers of his left hand, another had a split in his nose and the third could not speak properly, but made signs with his hands that the others appeared to understand.

  ‘Eric lost his tongue when he was captured by the Caliph’s guards,’ Stefan told her. ‘He would not betray the whereabouts of his comrades and so they took his tongue. Had it not been for Ali’s devotion, he would surely have died.’

  Anne said nothing. It sent icy waves down her spine when he spoke of such unspeakable acts, but she saw the way his men looked at him and knew that whatever else Stefan de Montfort might have done, he inspired devotion in his followers. Surely that meant he was not as cruel or unfeeling as he would have her believe?

  The town was one of the old medieval-walled type and the centre was teeming with people who had come in from miles around to visit the fair. The marketplace was crammed with stalls selling all kinds of merchandise, and the air smelled of spices and meat cooking slowly on a spit. Anne felt a surge of excitement, feeling that she had been to fairs like this before. Something about the noise and the bustle seemed so familiar that she could see figures moving in her mind, faces of people she ought to know. The feeling was a good one, but tinged with sadness because she could not remember the people she had gone with to the fair.

  Stefan gave her his hand, helping her to dismount. Eric took the reins of the horses and two of Stefan’s men followed close behind as they walked into the square.

  It crossed Anne’s mind that they were being guarded. She wondered why that was necessary. No one was taking much notice of them. Everyone was too busy looking at the merchants’ wares and enjoying themselves in the sunshine. She saw children chasing each other, shouting and throwing sticks as they competed to see who could throw the furthest. One small lad took her attention. He had such a beautiful face and there was something about him that tugged at her heartstrings. Why did she feel as if she wanted to pick him up and hug him? Who did he remind her of?

  Stefan led the way to where the silk merchants had their wares laid out on wooden stands. Anne followed just behind, feeling a flicker of excitement. She saw the beautiful material and her eye fell on a dark green silk that had a shimmer to it and seemed to catch the light.

  ‘That is lovely,’ she said, fingering the cloth at the edges. ‘And good quality I think, but it will be expensive.’

  Stefan spoke to the merchant in rapid French. He nodded and the man beamed at Anne, obviously pleased with whatever had been said.

  ‘Choose another cloth,’ Stefan said. ‘You will need more than one gown, Anne. I think this dark blue would suit you…or the paler green?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘I have the gowns that were found at the chateau.’

  ‘You are too beautiful to wear black,’ Stefan said. ‘We shall take these three. What else do you need?’ He looked down at her feet. ‘Shoes, of course. Those slippers are Sulina’s and not suitable for outdoor wear. And you will need lace or braid to trim the gowns. Choose what you wish for while you have the chance, and do not count the cost. I am in the mood to indulge you—take advantage of it.’

  Anne realised that he would not be pleased if she protested at the cost of all these things. She chose lace and beads, a gold braid that would look striking on the blue gown and two pairs of shoes. She did not dare to think of the cost, but she saw no money change hands. The merchants seemed to know the Lord de Montfort and were eager to please him.

  ‘Everything you have chosen will be sent to the chateau,’ Stefan told her when she had finished looking at the merchants’ wares. ‘Come, we shall eat and drink at the inn before we return. It may be months before we visit Cherbourg again.’

  Anne felt that might be a good thing, for if he were always this extravagant it would cost him a fortune. She knew he had ordered other items from the merchants, and supposed the cloth was for himself or others of his household. Obviously, he was taking the opportunity to stock up on supplies they needed. She knew that a list of more mundane things they required had already been sent to merchants in the town and would be delivered in due time.

  The inn was busy, but the landlord recognised Lord de Montfort and showed them into his best parlour where only one other lady and gentleman were seated eating their meal. They seemed to have finished for they stood up, the gentleman stopping to speak a few words with Stefan before they left. The woman sent a fleeting smile at Anne, but did not speak.

  ‘Did you know those people?’ Anne asked as they took their seats at a table near the window.

  ‘The Chevalier Charles Renard and his sister are our nearest neighbours at the chateau. I have been asked to dine at their home before now, but I declined for I did not wish for visitors. However, I asked if he would call one morning and bring Maria with him. You might like a little company of your own kind, Anne. It will be lonely for you otherwise.’

  ‘That was thoughtful of you,’ Anne said. ‘Did you tell them who I was?’

  ‘I told him t
hat you were a kinswoman come to live with me for a while. If the truth were known, there would be gossip. I would not have your reputation sullied, lady. If your memory returns, you will not thank me if it is generally thought that you are my mistress. And now that you have been seen there will be gossip. I am known, but I do not often shop at the fair, nor do I generally have female company—at least not a lady of your class.’

  ‘You are considerate for my good name, sir,’ Anne replied. She glanced out of the window. Her eye fell on a young man with dark auburn hair. He was talking earnestly to one of the grooms, who was shaking his head. As the Chevalier and his sister emerged from the inn into the yard, the young man approached them and began to ask questions. They also shook their heads. The young man looked disappointed. He glanced towards the inn, seeming undecided, and then turned away, walking towards a group of men and women and beginning to question them.

  ‘What would you like to eat?’ Stefan asked and she turned from the window. ‘The woman says there is soup, roast pork and cabbage with plums or a pigeon pie.’

  ‘Oh, I should like some soup and bread, please,’ Anne said. ‘I am not truly hungry.’ It was odd, but her stomach was full of butterflies and she was aware of a feeling of sadness. She glanced back through the window, but the young man who had obviously been searching for something had gone. She could see that he was riding away. She did not know why that should upset her.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Stefan asked.

  ‘No…at least I do not know,’ Anne replied. ‘I was watching someone from the window. There was something familiar…I felt that I should know him.’

  ‘You felt that you should know him, but you could not remember his name?’

  ‘It was his manner that attracted my attention,’ Anne confessed. ‘He seemed so urgent, so…distressed.’ She sighed. ‘If I knew him I would surely have recognised him at once and I did not.’

  ‘What did he look like? Did you catch more than a glance?’

  ‘He had dark auburn hair and was a tall, strong-looking man. He spoke to the Chevalier and his sister for a moment as well as others. I turned away and he had gone.’

  ‘I shall make inquiries,’ Stefan promised. ‘If he was looking for someone—’ He stopped, shook his head. ‘It would be wrong of me to raise your hopes, Anne. It is unlikely that he was looking for you, but I shall send someone to discover who the young man was and what he sought.’

  ‘I do not think he could have been looking for me,’ Anne said. ‘And yet I did think he seemed familiar.’ She looked out of the window once more, her expression so wistful that Stefan was aware of a feeling of jealous anger in the pit of his stomach.

  Who was this young man that had brought such a look to her face? Had she been lying to him all along? Did she know her name and where she came from—and had she recognised the man? He could not help the suspicions taking root in his mind, even though common sense told him they were ridiculous. He had plucked her from the sea half-dead, but his previous experience with women had taught him that too often they would lie and scheme to get what they wanted. The lady Madeline had wanted him dead, though he did not know what he had done to arouse her hatred. Anne seemed innocent and as lovely inside as she was beautiful, but was she lying to him? He could see no reason why she should, and the feeling of anger cooled as she turned and smiled at him. Surely she was as innocent as she seemed? And yet he might be a fool to trust her.

  Stefan did not give her an answering smile. His thoughts were confused, because he did not understand why he had felt such jealousy. If Anne had a lover somewhere, she would return to him when her memory came back. Now that he was calmer, he knew that he owed it to her to try to find the young man she had seen from the window of the inn. He had always intended that she should go back to her family and friends—so why did he have this ache inside when he thought about what the man might mean to her?

  She was young and beautiful, a lady of good family. It was likely that she would be betrothed to someone—a young man who would love her enough to go on searching for her weeks after she was lost?

  Anne seemed content to live at his chateau. She had begun to turn it from a rambling, neglected house into a home. He had begun to enjoy the thought of seeing her at his table, the pleasure of talking to her and seeing her smile. The place would seem empty when she left, but once she remembered the people she loved she would want to go. He would tell her to go back to her family, because he could not love her.

  It was best that she left as soon as possible. Something about the man she had seen outside the inn had seemed familiar to her. If by some sheer chance the man was looking for her, he would know things that would bring back the home and life she had lost. Anyone who had her welfare at heart must want that for her…and he did feel something for her. Stefan studied her profile as her eyes were drawn back to the window. Something was haunting her. She sensed that she ought to have known the man, was regretting a chance lost. Smothering the urge to sweep her up and take her back to the chateau, away from all contact with anyone that might claim her, Stefan forced himself to remain calm and dispassionate. She was not for him. He could not give her the life she deserved.

  ‘If it is possible, we shall discover his name and my men will make a search for him. We shall find him, and if he looks for you we shall bring him to you, Anne.’

  She turned back to him, shaking her head. ‘I do not think I truly knew him, for I would have remembered. It must just have been that he seemed so urgent.’ Anne smiled. ‘We shall forget it. I have had a day I shall remember, sir. I thank you for spending so much money on my new clothes. I do not think I have ever been so indulged before.’

  ‘You deserve much more,’ Stefan said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He was seeing her dressed in the emerald green gown, her hair adorned with a cap of gold and precious stones. He could see her as she smiled up at him, her lips parted for his kiss…and later as they lay side by side in the great bed she presently slept in alone.

  He wanted her. Stefan admitted the truth to himself. His body burned for her and it was the reason for his restlessness of late. He acquitted her of being false, because there was too much honesty in her eyes. Life had led him to mistrust others, but she reminded him of the one woman who had shown him love—his mother. He had forgotten that women such as the late Lady de Montfort existed. He had accepted that women wanted him only for the pleasure he could give them or the gold he paid them. Love was something he had dismissed as being a myth, but now he was remembering that sometimes love could be true and sincere.

  If no one claimed her he could take her for his own—as his mistress or his bride. Stefan acknowledged that he would not want to lose her once she was his, so perhaps marriage was the only way. Yet he was not worthy of her. He knew it and a part of him rejected the idea of marriage and children. He had vowed to be revenged for his father’s death and his brother’s murder. How could he set that aside in favour of taking a bride?

  The answer was that he could not—nor could he take a bride with fresh blood on his hands. To murder his enemy and then go to her bed would be an abomination in the sight of God and man. Anne was too far beyond him and he was a fool to let the shine of her eyes or the softness of her lips make him weak, even though his body clamoured for her.

  If he needed a woman that badly he should send for a whore and take what he wanted coldly and without emotion. Love ensnared a man, binding him with invisible chains. He could not allow himself to be enticed into that honeyed trap. Love had no place in his life!

  ‘Your husband will buy everything your heart desires,’ he said harshly. ‘Here is our food. Eat what you want, Anne. We shall leave for home as soon as you have taken your fill.’

  ‘But what of you?’ Anne asked. ‘I thought you were hungry?’

  ‘I have something to do,’ Stefan replied. He took a thick chop from the dish and bit into it. He turned away from her. ‘I shall be only a few minutes. There is someone I must see…’

/>   Anne stared after him as he left the table. He was such a strange man sometimes, his moods changing like the wind. All the morning he had been kind, indulging her like a loving father…or lover…but now he was angry again.

  What had she done to make him angry? Anne had no idea. She did not know where he was going or why, but she knew that she felt a sense of loss every time he withdrew from her.

  Stefan helped her to mount the huge black horse. Anne was not as frightened as before, because she knew now that he was an expert horseman, and she held on to his belt as they set out at a good pace. She suspected that Lord de Montfort was anxious to return to the chateau, though she was not certain why he was in such a hurry. His manner had changed so abruptly at the inn and he had hardly spoken to her since he returned after she had finished her meal.

  She suspected that he was angry with her. Was it because she could not remember who she was? Did he grow tired of having to look after her? He had been so kind about the matter of providing the material for her gowns, but now he was like a silent stranger. She found his silence hurtful, as if he were deliberately shutting her out.

  They had been riding for some time when Anne first suspected that someone was following them. She had heard noises once or twice, like the clinking of a harness and a horse snorting, and she saw from the look on the faces of their men about her that they too had heard something. Suddenly, she caught sight of several men riding hard down the road ahead of them; looking back, she saw others coming up swiftly from the rear.

  ‘We are being followed,’ she cried and Stefan turned his head to glance at her face.

  ‘I know. I have been aware for some time. Put your arms about me, Anne. I must ride faster to avoid them. You see the woods to your right? We shall go through them. Hold on tight, otherwise you might fall.’

  Anne obeyed, holding on tightly as he suddenly wheeled his horse to the right. His men followed instantly and she knew that they had expected something like this might happen. She heard shouting from the riders behind them, and then a cracking sound. It was loud and she tightened her hold about Stefan’s waist. Could that sound have been arquebus fire? Had someone shot at them from one of those terrible weapons that were the Devil’s invention?