The Du Lac Devil: Book 2 of The Du Lac Chronicles

by Mary Yarde

  Merton could not believe what he was hearing and for a moment he was rendered speechless. How could Alden speak to him in such a way, after everything he had sacrificed?

  “Such words coming from Budic do not surprise me, but coming from you…” He looked at Alden, shaking his head as he did so. He had been unable to hide the hurt in his words, and he knew Alden had heard his pain because something shifted in Alden’s eyes too. Guilt. Sorrow. Suffering. It was like looking at the polished metal of a knight’s armour. What he saw in Alden’s face, he knew was reflected in his own.

  “Merton, I didn’t mean…” Alden reached out to him and placed his hand on his arm, but Merton shrugged him away. It was too late for apologies. Alden had just betrayed him in the deepest and the most grievous way.

  “You do not need me here for this, my Lords,” his voice broke as he bowed mockingly. “Let me know when you have decided what I should and shouldn’t do.”

  “Merton,” Alden tried again, but Merton was already on his way out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a deafening thud.

  “I’ll go after him,” Josephine said.

  23

  He needed to fight someone. He didn’t care who. After everything he had done, after all those years of sacrifice, this is how Alden repaid him.

  “Merton, please,” Josephine’s voice echoed down the corridor as she ran to catch up with him. He did not slow his pace. They had said all they needed to say to each other years ago.

  “Merton,” she grabbed hold of his arm and stepped in front of him.

  He took her hand in his and forcefully threw her fingers away from him. “Don’t you dare touch me again,” he growled at her.

  “Do not presume to walk away from me. I am the Queen,” she lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “Not until your coronation, your Majesty,” he bowed mockingly at her. “You bloody fool, what the hell were you thinking marrying him?”

  She slapped him hard across the face, so hard that her hand stung afterwards. “Unlike some, he offered me marriage after he had used my body for his own pleasures. And he was better in bed than someone I could mention,” she added with a touch of malice.

  “He won’t make you happy,” Merton stated, his voice shaking with rage.

  She raised her hand and slapped him again. He let her. He welcomed the pain. He needed it. And it was, after all, more than he deserved after the way he had treated her.

  “The only person who could ever make me happy decided after he had sampled the goods, that he didn’t want me.” She grabbed hold of his tunic when he began to turn away from her. “Was I really so awful in bed that you had to run away?”

  “Is that what you think I did? Do you honestly believe that I would run from you because you didn’t satisfy me between the sheets?” Merton asked.

  “I don’t know what to think. I thought you loved me. I thought we had a future. I would never have taken you into my bed, into my body, if I thought for one moment that you would cast me aside afterwards,” she spat the words at him, the anger in her eyes matching his.

  “Well, you have certainly made your bed now. I just hope you can produce a male heir. He will not be happy if you cannot.” He broke free of her grasp and walked away.

  “I will give him sons,” she said, catching up with him. “I will fill up this castle with children.”

  “Good for you,” Merton countered back as he made his way down the stairs, Josephine close on his heels.

  “You are just jealous,” she stated.

  Noise was coming from the Great Hall, the breaking of the fast was a long, drawn-out affair, and would last until midday for some. A few noblemen were stood outside the Hall, conversing in small groups, although all stopped to stare as Merton stormed down the stairs, with Josephine not far behind him.

  “Would you leave me be, woman,” Merton hissed between his teeth. Some of the nobles were tittering behind their hands as they watched him and Josephine. This would make the tongues wag; that was for sure. He had to fight the urge not to smash their gloatingly gossiping faces in.

  “Not until you let me explain.”

  “Explain what?” he exploded, turning around so quickly to face her that she stumbled into him. He caught her with his hands and helped her to regain her balance. As soon as she had righted herself, he let her go and stepped away from her.

  “Everything,” she whispered. She looked around her, at the nobles who were watching them with undisguised interest. “Everything,” she said again. “But not here.”

  He regarded her for a long moment. “Do you like being the topic of conversation?” he asked, tilting his head towards the men who were sneaking as close as they dared to listen to the conversation between the King’s brother and his former plaything.

  “No more than you do,” she said back. “But like you, I have long since stopped caring what others think of me and besides-”

  “One day they will bow to you,” Merton’s voice was condescending.

  “You are such an ass.”

  “My Lady does swear, not that you were ever much of a lady.”

  “And who’s fault was that?” she queried angrily. Grabbing the sleeve of his tunic she dragged him along the corridor and out of earshot of those who would listen. “You made me what I am.”

  “Am I supposed to feel sorry?”

  “No. You are supposed to listen to me.”

  “In the mood I am in? No. I suggest you choose another time to reprimand me.” He stormed off outside and into the rain.

  She wasn’t going to give up. Merton concluded as he made his way to the stables. Damn her. Even his men knew to leave him alone when the black rage was upon him, but not her. She always had pushed the boundaries between them. When he slipped into the shadows, she had been there to pull him back and vice-versa. But what they had was over. She should know better than to pursue him.

  The groom saw him and quickly went to fetch Yrre’s horse.

  “I took the liberty of cleaning the tack for you, my Lord.” The groom informed him, a smile on his face.

  “Thank you. It certainly needed it,” Merton just about managed to say as Josephine came to stand beside him.

  “You are leaving,” she observed. “Running away when things become difficult. You don’t change, do you?”

  “Go away,” he gritted out. “For the love of God, go away.”

  “I want my horse,” she raised her voice, and another groom waved his hand indicating that he had heard her.

  “You are not coming with me,” Merton stated, turning to look at her. “So you can get that idea out of your head.” Dear Lord, they sounded like children. How many times had he said that to her while they were growing up?

  “I can go where I want. It is my kingdom, after all.”

  “I can see you have the makings of a bitch of a queen,” Merton replied, his voice harsh and critical.

  “Better a bitch than a demon,” she returned in the same tone that he had just used on her.

  The grooms brought their horses out to them. Without another word, Merton grabbed the reins and mounted swiftly, kicking the horse into a brisk trot as he rode out the castle gates.

  He could hear Josephine’s horse following behind him, and he felt his anger grow even more. Did she not know what a risk she was taking? He needed to be alone so he could calm down. He circled his horse so that he faced her.

  “Do you really want to do this?” he asked her, raising his voice so he could be heard through the rain that was falling from the heavens above.

  In answer, she wiped the rain from her face and raised her chin higher.

  “You are not wearing a cloak,” he pointed out and again he had the strange sensation of being a child — Josephine at his heels, following him wherever he went, with no regard for anything but her want, her need, to be as close as possible to him at all times. To begin with, her attention had been disconcerting. He wasn’t used to other children wanting to be in his company. He kn
ew the noblemen who frequented his father’s court warned their offspring to stay away from him. He was a bad sort. Wild. But Josephine had no one to warn her away. And he had been so starved of company that he had welcomed the attention that she gave him.

  He never set out to hurt her. He had certainly never meant to sleep with her. But, he had feared for her future. Merton had thought he was doing her a favour when he suggested Marcus as a possible husband for her to Budic, long before that fateful night. Marcus was kind, a little dim maybe, but he would never hurt her. She was safe with him. The same couldn’t be said for Budic. He couldn’t protect her from him.

  “Nor are you,” she challenged back, unafraid of the anger she saw in Merton’s eyes. “Would you like to wait here, while I go back to the castle and retrieve them? Or shall we forget about the rain and for once in our lives speak honestly to each other?”

  God, this woman. He had forgotten how annoyingly persistent she could be. “You want us to be honest with each other? Have we not hurt each other enough?”

  “Hurt?” Josephine scoffed. “You have no idea what that word means. I hoped this day would come. I prayed that one day I would see you again so that I could tell you-”

  “You have nothing to say that I would want to hear,” Merton interrupted her. “What we had ended a long time ago. It is finished, Josephine. It is over. Forget it and move on.”

  “I loved you. Does that not count for anything?”

  Merton closed his eyes very briefly at her confession and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go over old ground. “Go home, Josephine,” he said wearily. “Go home to Budic.” He turned his horse and cantered away.

  Josephine watched him leave, her heart breaking yet again. Merton was a wound. A painful wound that would never heal. She had loved him since she was a child and the truth was she would love him forever. She glanced behind her and looked at the formidable walls of the castle she had grown up in. As a child, she had thought those walls were a prison and yet fate had decided that she would become mistress here. Her life would forever be bound in the stonework of Benwick. She looked to where Merton was, his silhouette becoming smaller. And she realised that she would give everything up…everything…for the one man who was always running away from her.

  But, this time, he was going to listen. This time, she would make him. “Come on girl,” she whispered to her horse. “Let’s show him what we can do.”

  Merton slowed his horse down to a steady trot. He could hear the pounding of hooves behind him. She had never been one to give up when she set her mind to something. As a child, he had adored her for that, however, as an adult, it annoyed the hell out of him.

  He allowed Yrre’s horse to slow down to a walk, and he waited for her to catch up. It was best to let her have her say and then maybe she would leave him alone once and for all.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked as she rode towards him.

  “Budic needs your help.”

  “You married my brother,” he said in disbelief as he halted his horse and dismounted. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

  “Don’t pretend you care who I marry,” Josephine said as she too, got off her horse.

  “He will not make you happy. He will make your life a living hell.”

  “He will make me a queen. I will be someone worthy. Someone important. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be mocked and to be condemned and to be the person that everyone walks away from? I loved you. I loved you with every fibre of my being. I have never loved anyone the way I loved you.”

  Merton sighed in annoyance and looked away. He didn’t want to hear this. He couldn’t. He wished she would just leave him alone. He didn’t want to fight with her about the past, and he didn’t want to tell her that he did understand. He knew exactly what it was like to watch the world turn its back on you.

  “Last night Philippe told me that he seeks the throne.”

  “Philippe is nothing. He is no one,” Merton stated. “I heard you, and he, were lovers.”

  “I heard you were the devil,” she challenged back.

  “So it is true, then.” Merton pulled the reins over his horse’s head and began to walk away.

  “I care for Philippe…I don’t want to see him die. But he must be stopped. He says he has a powerful…I don’t know what you would call it…” she stopped speaking as she searched for the words and she was obviously very annoyed with herself for not being able to find it. “You know…a thingamajig …someone with lots of money who loans it to others.”

  “An argentārius?”

  “Yes, an argentārius.” Josephine snapped, and Merton had to fight the urge not to smile. When she was younger, she would talk so fast that sometimes her words would come out muddled, or she would forget the word she was searching for. But he had known her well, and he had always somehow instinctively known what a thingamajig was. Strange that he still did.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. An outsider that is all I know.”

  “Wessex?”

  “I asked him if it was Wessex, he denied it. Philippe told me to talk to you. He wants you on side. I don’t know why he would want you; he must be mad. He is mad, obviously. He says he would make a better king, and he would be a better ally to Alden.”

  “He probably would make a better king. That doesn’t mean he has a right to the throne,” Merton said, a touch of arrogance in his voice.

  “Do you think I don’t know that? You are so conceited aren’t you? I don’t even know what I saw in you.”

  “Well, that makes two of us. What does Budic want me to do? I am assuming you know, being as you are now his wife.”

  “He wants you to play along with Philippe. Pretend to be on his side.”

  Merton laughed and suddenly everything clicked into place. “I bet he does. Oh my days…that man. Does he think I cannot see through him?”

  “What are you talking about?” Josephine queried, frowning.

  “If I do what he asks, he will execute me for treason alongside Philippe. Alden will then, maybe, if he thinks I am still worth the effort, try and avenge my death and Budic will kill him too. The scheming bastard. And you married him?” he shook his head, still laughing. “You idiot, you absolute idiot. How could you fall for it, for him and his lies?”

  “He told me he loves me,” she challenged back, but she felt sick to her stomach by Merton’s words because she knew, deep down, that he was right. It was all about games and power to Budic…it always had been. Yesterday he had buried his wife and played the part of the grieving husband very well. But today his eyes were dry, and he married her.

  “He loves you?” Merton laughed again. The idea was so ludicrous he could not help himself.

  “Am I so not worthy to be loved, that the thought that someone could, makes you laugh?” Josephine said, the colour in her cheeks rising as she felt her temper slipping.

  Merton’s laughter stopped abruptly. “No. I do not think you are unworthy of love. But he doesn’t love you. Budic doesn’t love anyone. He is incapable of such a feeling. He is a cold, cruel, man.”

  “So are you,” Josephine accused and Merton fell silent. “At least he married me,” she could not help but challenge, throwing the words at him like daggers.

  “At least I was always honest with you,” Merton said softly.

  “You were never honest with me.” Josephine stopped walking. Merton stopped also and turned to look at her. “You knew I loved you. You knew I wanted us to marry more than anything. “Not yet,” you used to tell me. “When we are both older,” you said. You made me dream of you. You made me believe we had a future. I was pregnant,” she was shouting now. “You gave me to another man when I was carrying your child.”

  Merton dropped the reins of his horse and took a step towards her. “No,” he stated, with absolute certainty in his voice. “No, you weren’t. I took precautions.”

  “Precautions? Don’
t make me laugh. You were so drunk you didn’t know what you were doing. It was a girl, by the way, if you are interested,” Josephine said. “She was the prettiest little thing. Always smiling. She had your grey eyes and my blonde hair. She was the child I used to dream of. She was perfect, absolutely perfect. I called her Brianna, after your mother.” She looked into his face, but all she could see was anger reflected back at her. “I thought you would have approved of that, but looking at you now, I very much doubt you would have cared.”

  “No,” Merton said again, taking another menacing step towards her. “Stop lying to me.”

  “I am not lying,” she moved closer to him, not at all intimidated by the anger in his eyes because for once she had the truth on her side and as much as Merton may want to, he could not run away from the facts this time. “You know I am not lying. When have I ever lied to you?”

  “Where is she then, this daughter of mine? Take me to her.”

  “The best I can do is take you to her grave.” There were no tears in her eyes as she spoke, because tears would not bring her daughter back and besides she wanted to punish him, she wanted to break his heart as thoroughly as he had broken hers and she was determined that her eyes would stay dry while she destroyed him with the truth. “She is dead. A fever took her from me when she was two. We could have been a family, Merton. She might still be alive if you had been honourable enough to marry me. We would have had a good life. I would have made you happy. I know I would. I hate you.” Josephine moved closer still until there was hardly any space between them. “I hate you so much. I blame you for her death. She would not have died if you had just taken responsibility like any decent man would have done.”

  Merton shook his head and then moved away from her. He raised his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. This was too much, too much. She had to be lying. It could not possibly be true. It must not be true. He could not stand it if it were true.

  “Do you have nothing to say? Come on, Merton. You always have something to say. So let me hear it. Let me hear your excuses.”