by Ida Curtis
Both Isabel and Lady Winifred watched for a sign from Chetwynd. When he nodded, Lady Winifred continued, “After you receive Lord Theodoric’s approval, I will speak to the parish priest. Father Ivo can perform the marriage ceremony tomorrow evening, and you can be off on your journey the next day.”
It seemed everything was settled. Lady Winifred stood up to indicate the meeting was concluded. “I’m sure you are eager to be off to your bed, Lord Chetwynd. You must be tired after your long journey. I wish some private words with my granddaughter.”
Without another word, a solemn Lord Chetwynd moved from one to the other in a formal manner, taking each of their hands in turn and bowing his head. When the door closed behind him, Isabel gave a long sigh and sank back onto her seat.
“What have I agreed to?” she said with a moan.
Lady Winifred’s eyes narrowed and her voice was hard. “You’ve already sabotaged too many chances to wed, Isabel. Do not dare throw this one away after all I’ve done to promote it. If this marriage doesn’t come off, I swear I’ll support your father and you’ll be off to a nunnery before you can blink an eye.”
Stiffening her spine, Isabel met her grandmother’s stubborn expression with one of her own. “I understand what you’re saying, Gran-mere. But don’t forget, as far as Lord Chetwynd is concerned, this is a short-term arrangement.”
“Don’t be a goose, Isabel. You’re an attractive woman, and attractive women have no trouble tempting men into bed. You can persuade Lord Chetwynd to forget his reservations about the match. It shouldn’t be a hardship for you, as he is an attractive man. Once you become heavy with his child, he will want to stay married for the sake of an heir.”
Isabel stood up to give her words more authority. “I have no intention of trapping Lord Chetwynd. We will be living together as brother and sister. I won’t be bearing his child.”
“You are naive, my dear,” Lady Winifred replied, shaking her head. “You will change your mind once you discover the advantages of having a husband who has the ear of the king. You will be welcomed at court, plus you will have a manor of your own to manage as you please.”
As far as her grandmother was concerned, there was no higher goal in life for a woman than overseeing her own manor. Her fear that Isabel might replace her in that role at Narbonne was no doubt the main reason she wanted her granddaughter settled elsewhere, whether it be with Lord Chetwynd or in a monastery.
Isabel refused to leave without a final word on the subject. “I will not trap him,” she repeated, and made a hasty retreat before her grandmother could reply.
Once in her bedchamber, doubts stole any satisfaction Isabel might have achieved by having the last word. She tossed and turned in her narrow bed, repeating the last sentence to her grandmother over and over in her mind. Long into the night, she kept replaying her conversations with both Chetwynd and her grandmother, examining each carefully. She tested the motives of all parties, including herself, and questioned what she had done.
For eight years, she had dreamed of being rescued by the golden-haired warrior. But she was a grown woman now, and Emma was right, it was well past the time when she should have put that dream away. Lord Chetwynd was not the champion she imagined, and he was definitely not here to rescue her. She would have to do that herself.
It was almost dawn before Isabel finally fell into a restless sleep. When her handmaid, Marianna, shook her shoulder a short time later, Isabel awoke with renewed determination. She had been given a chance to leave Narbonne, and she would make the most of it.
Isabel and her grandmother walked to the chapel in silence, as though neither wished to return to the disagreement that lay between them. Chetwynd planned to speak to Lord Theodoric after the service. Isabel wondered if nightmares of Lady Winifred’s scheming might not have caused him to flee the manor.
When Isabel spotted him entering the chapel, she couldn’t help feeling relieved. This morning his stony expression made her smile a little, as she saw it as a sign of resolve to go through with their plan.
Wishing to hear the news of his interview with her father in a secluded spot away from curious stares, Isabel turned to her grandmother and said, “Tell Lord Chetwynd to come to me at the pond after he has spoken to Father.”
“What pond? What are you talking about, Isabel?” her grandmother asked impatiently.
“Don’t worry, he’ll know what I mean,” she assured Lady Winifred, and hurried on ahead of her into the chapel.
The soldiers filled the benches of the small chapel where Father Ivo performed the morning service. He had been both the parish priest and Isabel’s tutor for as long as she could remember. As she knelt with bowed head, she thought of his painstaking method of teaching her to read. He pointed out the Latin words in his large, engraved Bible, showing her the verses she heard repeatedly in the chapel.
Her eagerness to learn surprised and delighted the old priest. As a reward for her hard work studying the Bible, he introduced her to the tales of Ovid. The poet had written about the triumphs, tragedies, and tomfoolery of the Greek gods and goddesses. It was with Ovid’s stories that Isabel used to entertain Emma.
Father Ivo had suggested she join a religious community, but to be a teacher, not a nun. Perhaps it was her romantic fantasy of being rescued that had made her hesitate, as she would have enjoyed sharing her knowledge. She felt closer to Father Ivo than to her father or grandmother, and wondered what he would think of Lord Chetwynd and their plan to marry.
At the end of Mass, Isabel and her family preceded the other worshipers out of the chapel. She caught sight of Emma seated in the back row. After exchanging a tentative nod with Lord Chetwynd, who walked beside her father, Isabel waited for Emma. Isabel linked arms with her friend and pulled her away from the crowd.
“Let’s walk to the pond, Emma. I need to talk to you.”
Emma, looking older with her plaits hidden under a head covering, cradled her baby in her arms. Isabel could tell it was all Emma could do to keep silent, but she waited until they had advanced along the path before she spoke.
“I saw the fair-haired soldier walking with your father. Is he the one you saw at the pond?”
“Yes. Did he look familiar to you?”
“No, should he?”
“You mean he doesn’t look like an angel?”
Emma stopped in her tracks and twirled around, but Lord Chetwynd was out of sight. “Are you saying it’s him?”
“Shush. Not so loud, Emma. Your voice could wake the dead.” But Isabel giggled at the startled expression on her friend’s face.
“Oh Isabel, he’s a well-built man, but I doubt I would have recognized him as your angel. The hair is similar, I suppose, but this man has a hard, proud face. He moved with an arrogant grace that I don’t remember, and he fills out his clothes. Your angel was slight of build. This man looks more like the devil than an angel.”
“My, you did take notice of him.”
“It was hard not to. I’m sure you noticed the same things,” Emma replied with a sly smile.
Isabel grinned, amazed at how lighthearted talking with her friend made her feel. “It might interest you to learn, Emma, that the man you just described in such detail is about to ask my father for permission to marry me.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open, and Isabel had to drag her along to keep her moving. “I seldom see you speechless, Emma. Let’s hurry to the pond where we can talk in private.”
Neither one said another word as they hurried along the narrow path through the woods. Their fast pace woke the baby, who had slept soundly through Mass. As they sat at the water’s edge to cool their feet in the pond, Emma wrestled her clothing open to nurse her crying babe.
Once the babe was suckling contentedly, Emma turned her full attention to Isabel. “Now tell me everything. Leave nothing out,” she demanded.
Isabel started at the beginning, describing how she had returned to the pond and found the footprint. She couldn’t help gloating. “
You see, Emma, I wasn’t imagining his presence.”
Then she explained how surprised she had been to find him at the high table in the great hall. As she told Emma how she had impulsively asked him to escort her to Aachen, she wondered again at her boldness.
Finally, Isabel related how Lady Winifred had taken over, first suggesting they walk in the garden, then joining them. Her grandmother had suggested a marriage of convenience, and after much discussion Lord Chetwynd had agreed.
Emma’s eyes sparkled as she absorbed every word of Isabel’s story. Her friend had always enjoyed a good tale. When Isabel was through, Emma pointed out what she considered the problem with the plan.
“And you plan to live as sister and brother with that tempting man?”
“Yes, that’s one of the terms of the marriage.”
Emma raised her eyebrows in her most skeptical manner. “I doubt it will work out that way, Isabel. You are both mature and well-made, and you are going to be traveling as man and wife. Besides, why would you want to deprive yourself?”
Isabel laughed, realizing she should have predicted her friend’s response. “Emma, Lord Chetwynd is not Derek. Your husband can’t keep his hands off you, but Lord Chetwynd does not feel the same about me.”
Remembering the details of her conversation with Chetwynd, Isabel’s amusement disappeared. “There is one thing I forgot to tell you, Emma. Lord Chetwynd is in love with someone else. A woman he is not free to marry. Living together as brother and sister is what he wants. I have no intention of tempting him into my bed, as my grandmother has suggested I do.”
“Oh Isabel, what a muddle,” Emma remarked. “I don’t see how you can not . . . well, you know . . . be tempted just a little. I suspect your grandmother knows exactly what she is doing, putting the two of you together in this way.”
“Yes, you’re right. She admitted she hopes things will work out between us. But Lord Chetwynd is marrying me because he can’t marry the woman he loves. He spoke of it in the past tense, but who knows. No doubt he hopes to use our marriage to disguise their meetings.”
“Good lord, Isabel, your story is not supposed to end like this. He is your champion.”
“No, Emma, my champion was a fantasy, just as you have told me all these years. Lord Chetwynd is nothing like the gentle soldier I imagined. Most of the time he seems full of anger. When I first asked him to take me to Aachen, he refused and acted offended that I’d asked. There is nothing warm or gentle about him. Even you noticed how stony he appears.”
Emma frowned and moved her babe to the other breast. “Lord Chetwynd may have good reason for his anger. Life is not kind to everyone, Isabel, as you know. I’m betting you’ll be able to warm him up.”
“You sound like my grandmother, Emma. And don’t shake your head like that. I know how you think.”
“I’m not saying you should trap him. But I think there’s a strong possibility that things may work out between you. I agree with Lady Winifred.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“Nor I. Imagine agreeing with your grandmother.” Emma wrinkled up her nose at the idea. “But even if the marriage is annulled, at least you will have joined Justin and escaped from Lady Winifred.”
“Yes, that’s a definite advantage. She threatened to send me to a nunnery if I sabotaged yet another match.”
“The witch!”
Isabel giggled. “Lady Winifred doesn’t know the whole story. Not that I think Lord Chetwynd being in love with someone else would change my grandmother’s mind. She will have me wed.”
The baby had stopped nursing, and Isabel lifted the child away from Emma. Together they sang a lullaby Emma’s mother had taught them, and the babe slept cradled in Isabel’s arms.
“I’m going to miss you, Emma. Perhaps I’m a bit mad to wish to leave a place where I have such a good friend.”
“No, Isabel, you’re not mad. I’ll miss you, and I’ll miss the stories you tell me. There will be a hole in my life. But if you don’t go to Aachen, you’ll be sent to a nunnery. Either way you’d leave Narbonne.”
Emma leaned back on her elbows and stared at the sky. There was a dreamy expression on her face as she made a prediction. “I believe you’re destined for a great adventure, Isabel. I hope you will come back and tell me about it one day. What a tale you’ll have to tell then.”
Feeling a tug of sadness, Isabel looked down at the babe to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You have been blessed, Emma. If I find something half as wonderful as this sweet babe, and your appealing husband, I will be lucky.”
“I know you will have good fortune, Isabel. I’ll be there when you exchange your vows, but I’d best leave now before Lord Chetwynd arrives.” Emma leaned over to kiss Isabel’s cheek and held her in a long hug until the babe who was crushed between them began to complain.
After Emma’s departure, Isabel moved to lie in the shade of a tree. She wondered how much longer it would be before Lord Chetwynd appeared. Now that she had talked to Emma, she was eager to have things settled.
The warm morning sun made Isabel sleepy. Since she’d had little rest during the night, it was hard to keep her eyes open.
Lord Chetwynd didn’t see Lady Isabel when he entered the secluded glade. It occurred to him that she might have changed her mind about the proposed match. As he remembered his first sight of her swimming in the pond, he didn’t know whether he felt relieved or disappointed. One thing he knew for sure: Her grandmother would not be pleased if Isabel had changed her mind.
Turning to leave, he spotted Isabel asleep under the tree. Although he and his men were used to sleeping on the ground, he was surprised that Lady Isabel would find it comfortable. But then, the woman had been surprising him ever since he’d met her.
Rather than wake Isabel, he sat beside her and stared ahead at the mirror-like surface of the water. The still pond had a calming effect, and his shoulders began to relax, releasing the tension that had built during his talk with Lord Theodoric.
Their interview had gone more smoothly than he had expected. Although a little taken aback at the suddenness of the proposal, Isabel’s father seemed pleased to discover his daughter had a suitor, and he offered a generous dowry. Chetwynd was able to accept the amount by telling himself he would turn it over to Justin as soon as they reached Aachen.
Isabel’s father had jumped to the conclusion that Chetwynd and Justin had discussed the possibility of such a match, and Chetwynd did not contradict him. Although Justin had talked of wanting Isabel near him, he was likely to be extremely displeased with the marriage. Chetwynd didn’t have his friend’s skill in dealing with people, but he told himself he had done the best he could, trying to ignore his own selfish reasons for the match.
His initial guilt at deceiving Isabel’s father disappeared when Lord Theodoric began praising him for his willingness to wed Lady Isabel. Chetwynd wasn’t sure whether Lord Theodoric believed Isabel’s reputation had been compromised because of the number of suitors she had discouraged, or whether he had some idea of her involvement with a local lover. Whichever the case, Chetwynd thought Theodoric displayed a definite lack of loyalty to his daughter.
After meeting Lady Winifred and Lord Theodoric, Chetwynd could understand Isabel’s desire to leave Narbonne. He turned to where she was still sleeping. She lay on her side with one arm tucked under her head, appearing both innocent and sensual. Chetwynd grinned, imagining her as a mythical water nymph that had floated ashore and was resting after a long swim.
Isabel’s bare feet poked out from the hem of her gown, and he saw they were a good size. As were her hips, he noticed as his eyes traveled up her body. Her long tresses spread out on the ground around her, and there were leaves and twigs caught in her dark curls. Although his fingers itched to untangle a few, he didn’t wish to wake her. Instead he slowly lay down facing her, making sure there was a good distance between them. He became aware of her breasts rising and falling with her breathing.
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As he admired her natural beauty, he wondered if there was a chance this match could work as they had planned. It was clear there would be temptations, and he knew he would have to be careful. His plans, as well as her own, depended upon them remaining free of emotional entanglements, and his history in such matters was not promising.
WHEN ISABEL OPENED HER EYES SLIGHTLY, SQUINTING AT the light, she saw her future husband stretched out beside her. At first she thought he was asleep, but she quickly realized his eyes were focused on her breasts. Heat filled her body as she wondered what to do.
Suspecting that Lord Chetwynd would not want her to catch him staring at her breasts, Isabel closed her eyes and moved a little, as though she were just waking up. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell Chetwynd was quick to sit up. The light changed, and she was in his shadow. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring ahead at the water.
Isabel struggled to sit up. Feeling stiff from lying on the ground, she stretched her limbs to ease them. As casually as she could manage, she acknowledged Chetwynd’s presence. “Have you been here long, my lord?”
“No. I just arrived,” he said. “You must have been very tired to sleep on the hard ground. Perhaps you did not sleep well last night?”
Isabel laughed softly at his suggestion and was rewarded when a slight smile appeared on Chetwynd’s usually solemn face. It was pleasant to experience a simple exchange of understanding without the need for words.
“Did all go well in your meeting with my father?”
“Yes. Lord Theodoric thought the match must have been arranged, or at least suggested, by Justin. You should know I let him believe his assumption was true. It was easier than thinking up another reason for the sudden decision. He wants to talk to you, but he seemed well satisfied with the match.”
“Yes, I can imagine he would be.”
Her terse reply indicated that she knew her father’s feelings on the matter. Chetwynd couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her previous suitors, especially as her many charms were obvious.