She was being so courageous, so strong, yet he knew her heart must be aching and full of pain, as his had been when he learned of his parents’ death. Regardless of the others, he took hold of her cool, quivering hand and brought it to his lips. Very gently and tenderly did he kiss it.
Then he bowed and left her.
Panting and perspiring, Connor set down the half-filled bucket of water and wiped his brow. He flexed his left hand and raised his arm again, this time without lifting the bucket.
“My shoulder is definitely getting better,” he said to Demetrius. “Today, perhaps I can even take you on something more than a walk, eh, my friend?”
Glancing at the wall surrounding the courtyard of Montclair, he slowly expelled his breath. “Something to pass the time.”
Four days had passed since the death of the earl of Montclair, and five since he had had an opportunity to be alone with Allis. Those days had seemed unbearably long, yet he thought it best to wait for her to come to him, because that was what she wanted.
On the third day, he had joined in the solemn funeral mass and witnessed the temporary interment of the earl beside his late wife. It had been painful watching Allis and her family as they stood through the whole of the rite, only kneeling to receive the host. Isabelle’s face was puffy from crying, her eyes red-rimmed, and she leaned upon Auberan as if she would swoon without him.
As befitting a young noble, Edmond was stoic. Despite his lack of expression, though, his whole body trembled with suppressed emotion, and once he surreptitiously wiped his eyes.
Allis stood as motionless as a marble statue. Wearing a severely plain black gown and equally severe white scarf and barbette, she looked like a nun who had been serving a heavy penance. He doubted she had slept or eaten much since her father had died, and it was very likely that what vitality she had went to comforting Edmond and Isabelle.
The baron still had not returned. The main estate of the earl of L’Ouisseaux was over a hundred miles away, and it would take time for a messenger to reach there.
Not that he was in any rush to have the man return, although the necessary secrecy weighed upon him like a blot upon his character.
“Well, let me try this one more time, Demetrius, and then I shall stop,” he muttered as he bent down to pick up the bucket again. “Enough is enough.”
The hem of a woman’s black gown came into view. He quickly straightened and found himself face to face with Allis. He quickly and carefully drew on his shirt, surreptitiously studying her.
The strain in her pale, weary face and the dark circles beneath her eyes smote him. She had already endured so much and had so many obligations. Surely she deserved an end to pain. He yearned for something—anything—he could do to ease her sorrow, but all he could offer was his compassion. “How are you faring, my lady?”
“Everyone has been kind, Lord Oswald especially. Very kind and very sympathetic, very willing to do things for me.”
He caught the edge that crept into her voice as the sadness in her eyes gave way to annoyance. “But you don’t want pity or condescension or people taking charge over you, not even now—or perhaps especially not now?” he suggested.
She thrust her hands into her long cuffs and began to pace as if she couldn’t bear to keep still. “I do not want to be treated like a child. I know my father is dead. I know what needs to be done. I would have sent for the baron eventually, given the situation between the baron and my family, but Lord Oswald took it upon himself to do so immediately. It will probably be worse when Rennick gets here. I hope his horse throws a shoe every mile of the journey back!”
She sounded so angry at the last, he didn’t know what to say. At least she felt free enough to speak her mind to him, and was no longer trying to hide or subdue her feelings. It would be better for her to let them out, or like a festering infection, they would do more damage over time.
She stopped and as she regarded him, seemed to shrink. “I shouldn’t be saying such things. I must be a sinful woman. My father is dead, and right now, all I feel is anger.”
He ached to hold her, to feel her head resting against his shoulder, but he could not forget the sentries on the walls above. “My mother said once that when someone dies suddenly, you mourn them afterward. When they die slowly, you have already mourned them by the time God takes them into heaven. Your mourning time is past, and it is no wonder to me that you feel as you do.”
Her eyes softened as her pale cheeks bloomed with pink. “It was like I was holding my breath all the time, Connor,” she confessed softly. “As if I could never loosen the bindings that seemed wrapped about me, of duty and responsibilities, and that if I did, I would break apart like a broken jar.
“Well, that isn’t quite true,” she said, shaking her head and giving him a tremulous smile. “When I was with you, I felt free. Since that first night in the garden, you have made me feel happier than I have been in a long, long time. You brought joy and hope back into my life.” She put her hand lightly on his arm. “It was as if I started to breathe again when I met you.”
In all his life, he had never been so thrilled as he was by her simple, heartfelt words. Despite the soldiers on the wall walk who might see, he could not resist the impulse to gather her into his arms. She stood stiffly for a moment, then slowly relaxed and laid her head on his chest.
He longed for the privilege of always holding her secure in his arms, protecting her from any hurt or harm. And how he longed to kiss her—not with passion and desire now, but with tender affection. He yearned to press his mouth gently upon her cheek as a sign of his devotion.
How long they stood thus, he didn’t know, but he appreciated every moment, if this was all he could do to ease her pain.
At last she drew back, gently extricating herself from his embrace. Clasping her hands in front of her, she raised her shining eyes to regard him steadily. “My brother is the earl of Montclair and head of the family now.”
He nodded. Being more concerned with Allis’s sorrow, he had not considered all the ramifications of the earl’s death, but this was certainly one of them.
“As such, he has the right to confirm or deny the decisions of our father. There has been nothing officially signed or sealed regarding my betrothal to the baron.”
Her simple words, spoken plainly and with firmness of purpose, sent his mind reeling.
Suddenly, that vista of heaven on earth with Allis by his side sprang back to life. If there was no formal legal document, Edmond could easily break any verbal betrothal between Allis and the baron. “Does this mean what I hope it does?”
“While Edmond admires the baron,” she said, her smile blooming, “he admires and likes a certain Crusader more.”
If the heavens had parted and angels appeared to offer him a place with St. Michael himself, he would have happily refused. Heaven on earth was almost in his grasp. “How soon can the betrothal with DeFrouchette be broken?”
“I see no reason it cannot be done as soon as he returns.” She took hold of his hand and caressed his fingers, increasing the tension in his body that made him long to pull her into his arms. “I’m sure Edmond will agree, and I am willing to risk the gossip.”
Another impediment arose in his mind, threatening to blight his hope again. “Edmond is a minor child. He will have to have a guardian. King Richard is a greedy man, Allis, and many men would pay him well to have the right to oversee Montclair, I suspect the baron most of all.”
“I know. That is why I have already decided who should be Edmond’s guardian. As soon as it can be arranged, Edmond and I must travel to London to speak with the king about it. Thank heavens Richard is actually in England, so that we can petition him ourselves.”
“Who would you ask to have made Edmond’s guardian?”
She ran her fingertips along his arm, the sensation delightful and incredibly arousing. “I would like to suggest you, but I think it best if we ask Lord Oswald. He is well known and well regarded.”
Even in his joy, the past came again to haunt Connor. “And he has no quarrel with the king.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “He is also older and presumably wiser.”
“There is that, I suppose.”
“I am glad you are not older, or wiser. I like you just as you are, Sir Connor of Llanstephan with the barbarous hair. Besides, Lord Oswald likes you, too, so he will surely not disagree with Edmond’s choice of husband for me.”
Connor brought her hands to his lips. “Edmond’s choice, is it?”
She twisted her hands so that she held his firmly, her grasp both a confirmation and a promise. “The night my father died, he said I should marry a man who gives me laughter.” Her voice dropped so that it was as subtle and sultry as the surreptitious caress she gave his hand. “You give me laughter, Connor, and so much more. I would have you with me always. I want nothing so much as to be your wife.”
“Allis,” he whispered, pulling her close. “Nothing would give me greater joy.”
She glanced upward at the surrounding walls, reminding him that they were not alone. “As much as I would like to stay, I am afraid I have been too long as it is. I had best get back, or Isabelle will make herself ill with crying. Coming so soon after Percival’s death, when she was just beginning to recover from that shock, this has been an even worse blow.”
“Thank God she has you. Thank God they both do.”
She looked at her feet and shrugged her shoulders. “Words seem so…useless…at such a time.”
“It is your presence alone that they most need, my lady.” His hand itched to take hers but, cautious once more, he restrained the impulse. Instead, he looked off into the distance and remembered. “I don’t know what I could have said or done to be of any help if I had been at home when my parents died, but it is to my everlasting regret that I was not.” Her eyes misted and he spoke gently, wanting to do more for her now, if he could. “Is there is anything I can do to help, Allis, anything at all?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.”
Her incredible, unconquerable spirit amazed him anew. Allis, weak? Allis, vulnerable? Not for long. How could he not love such a woman?
“It’s one reason I’ve come, and the explanation I gave Lord Oswald for speaking to you. I want you to keep training Edmond. He needs to be doing something.”
“It would be my great pleasure, my lady,” he answered sincerely.
“I thought you would agree. Thank you.” Her soft eyes glistened. “For everything.”
“I think I am up to riding today. If you will allow us, perhaps we can leave the castle for a little while? The day is fair, and I assure you we will not go far.”
“I see no reason to refuse. Now, if you will excuse me, I really should go, even if I do not want to.”
She smiled another, wonderful smile before she hurried away, her black gown swishing over the grass.
Blissfully dumbfounded, he watched her go. “Did you hear that, Demetrius?” he muttered.
Then he laughed softly so that no one would hear, pure joy and merriment and delight thrilling through him. He would gladly spend the rest of his life giving Allis laughter, and anything else it was in his power to bestow.
Allis ran into the buttery, closed the door, made certain that she was indeed alone, then leaned back against the cool wall and put her hands over her face. What had she just done?
She had made it absolutely clear that she wanted Connor, and not Rennick—to Connor, not just herself. She had brazenly told him she wanted to be his wife.
Beneath her hands, she smiled with delight, and would have laughed aloud if the buttery didn’t echo. She hadn’t intended to tell him that then, or so bluntly, but when she had seen his surprise and his delight, she did not regret it.
No one on this earth cherished her as he did. She believed that to the depths of her heart, for she had seen it in his eyes, felt his tender and genuine concern when he had embraced her.
Let people say what they would about him, and about her. She didn’t care. She wanted to marry Connor of Llanstephan. Edmond would gladly give his approval and Rennick…
Rennick would make trouble.
It was obvious Lord Oswald liked Connor, and Lord Oswald was more important and powerful than Rennick DeFrouchette. If they had Lord Oswald’s support at court, Rennick wouldn’t dare to complain, at least not publicly. Perhaps they could even do something about the taxes on Connor’s family’s estate.
Her worried expression disappeared, replaced with a broad smile. With Lord Oswald’s friendship and Connor by her side, loving her as she loved him, they would surely triumph over any obstacle Rennick DeFrouchette tried to put in their way.
Chapter 17
After the noon meal, Connor waited expectantly as one of the grooms sent from the castle saddled Demetrius for him. The man could have been Attila’s Saxon twin, for he was nearly as tall and equally silent. He was different, however, in that he was sandy-haired and relatively clean.
Since this morning, Connor had felt light, joyful—as if he could race the wind itself around the mountains of Wales.
Demetrius tossed his head and stamped his feet, obviously anxious to go. “A gallop it shall be, my friend,” he said, “if Edmond can keep up.”
“I shall!” the lad cried, and Connor looked over his shoulder to see Edmond coming toward him, leading Firebrand.
His heart soared when he saw Allis behind him with a fine-looking mare saddled for riding. No one had said anything to him about Allis accompanying them, which was probably a good thing. Otherwise, he would have been grinning like a gargoyle all through the noon meal, although they should not show any overt affection until the betrothal between Allis and the baron was broken. Hiding their feelings was going to be even more difficult now, but it would be the wisest thing to do.
Then his happiness diminished, for behind her came Isabelle and Sir Auberan, and their horses. Auberan’s black stallion pranced about like a high-strung dancer, despite being weighted down with fancy trappings of scarlet and gold. Auberan obviously believed the more the better when it came to accouterments.
“Allis asked to come along,” Edmond explained when he reached him. “And then Isabelle and Sir Auberan.”
Allis made a little frown and surreptitious shrug. He understood. After the way she had inadvertently insulted Sir Auberan, she didn’t feel she could refuse his request.
“The ladies may need protection. It is no secret that several dishonorable men have come back from the Crusades and turned brigand,” Auberan declared.
Allis didn’t want her guest to be insulted, so for her sake, he would restrain himself. “I can still use my right hand if the need arises,” he said genially, patting the sword hanging on his left. “Fortunately, I understand the Montclair lands are very safe.”
“Indeed they are,” Allis confirmed, looking as if she was reconsidering the necessity of keeping Auberan’s good opinion.
“May we go now?” Edmond demanded, fairly dancing with suppressed impatience.
Ignoring the lad, Auberan sauntered closer and ran his insolent gaze over Connor. “I’m very curious to see how Sir Connor is going to ride with a damaged shoulder.”
“You know how, don’t you?” he asked Edmond.
Edmond grinned. “With his knees mostly, of course. A good knight with a good horse doesn’t need to hold his reins.”
Not surprisingly, Auberan appeared a bit peeved. “How are you going to mount?”
“More of a problem there, I grant you,” Connor agreed. “If you will give me a hand,” he said to the groom, “we can be on our way.”
The groom laced his fingers together. Connor placed his boot on his hands, and then carefully mounted Demetrius, who didn’t move. He was, as he had told Edmond, steady as a rock. “I’m sorry I can’t assist the ladies.”
The groom went to help Allis, and Auberan hurried toward Isabelle. “Allow me, my lady.”
She did, and Edmond mounted Firebrand while
Auberan clambered on his horse’s back.
Allis brought her mare beside Connor. “Shall we?”
“With pleasure, my lady,” he replied, giving her a warm smile, simply happy to have her company as they led the others out of Montclair.
They rode through the village beyond the castle, and several people called out their sympathies on the death of the earl to Allis and her siblings. She paused in her progress and bent down to speak to the villagers who didn’t hesitate to approach. Clearly touched by their words, she answered sincerely and with familiarity, knowing them all by name. The villagers also offered their sympathies to Edmond and Isabelle, but with more reserve.
As they rode out of the village, Edmond took the lead, riding several yards ahead as if he were the standard bearer of an army. Isabelle and Auberan stayed nearly as far behind, leaving them as alone as it was possible to be under such circumstances.
The air was warm for spring, with only a hint of wind, and the sun shone as if blessing their outing.
“I hope both your sister and brother noticed how the villagers spoke with you, and you to them. You are a fine example of what a noble should be,” Connor said, breaking their companionable silence.
“I try.”
“And succeed.”
She flushed with pleasure in a way that delighted him. He enjoyed giving her the praise she was due, especially when her reactions told him that was rarely done.
“An overlord can be treated with respect while he lives and holds power over people’s lives,” he continued. “It is how his death is received that shows how he was truly regarded. Obviously your tenants thought highly of your father, too.”
“Yes, they did,” she replied, giving him a smile tinged with sadness and regret that made him realize anew how grieved she had been by her father’s death. “He was an excellent overlord, until my mother died. In fact, when I look back, he began to change when he first realized how serious her final illness was.” She sighed. “I think my father has been slowly dying of a broken heart for six years.”
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