by Ida Curtis
He took a sip of wine and said, “The men Jerome caught a glimpse of the other day when you climbed to the fortress may be part of the band. It seems unlikely they will attempt to rob a troop of soldiers, but we must be careful. It is a problem for smaller groups, and the men I was talking to were sharing their experiences.”
As he spoke, Chetwynd leaned back on his elbow and stared at the fire. He still hadn’t worked out how much he needed to tell Isabel to prepare her for their arrival at court. He turned to look at Isabel. She had settled beside him, and her fragrance, which he was beginning to recognize, filled his senses. In the great hall she had held her own, and he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. When she danced, she had stood out from the rest. Even as she concentrated on following the intricate steps, her moves were graceful, and each time she managed a difficult part of the dance, her face lit up.
Sitting close together, Chetwynd had a good view of the thin, white scar on her forehead. They had been different people all those years ago when she had called him an angel.
Noticing that he was staring at her scar, Isabel broke the lengthening silence between them. “Emma told me you stayed and watched her mother stitch my wound. Why did you do that?”
“I was afraid you might wake up and be frightened. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if you did, but since you called me an angel, I thought my presence might calm you.” He smiled at the idea.
“That was a kind thing to do.”
“Why don’t you cover the scar? You could do so easily. Emma’s mother remarked on that as she sewed you up.”
Isabel didn’t want to tell Chetwynd that the sight in a mirror reminded her of the hero who rescued her. After the scar had discouraged her first betrothed, an old man she had no wish to marry, it became a badge of pride, or maybe of good fortune.
Instead she replied, “It’s nothing to hide. I’m not ashamed of it.”
Chetwynd reached out his hand to remove her veil and was disappointed to find that the curls he wished to touch were bound in place. Ever since he saw her sleeping on the ground, he had longed to bury his fingers in her hair.
“Your tresses are tightly bound. Is that comfortable?” he asked.
“Not anymore. I didn’t notice the pull earlier, but I do now.”
“Why don’t you take the scarf off?” he suggested.
“I’m not sure I can. Marianna did it up.”
“I’ll help you.”
Before she could say a word, Chetwynd moved to kneel behind her. He worked slowly so he wouldn’t pull her hair. Isabel closed her eyes and sighed with relief as the tightly held locks were set free. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable the arrangement had become until the pressure was gone.
After Chetwynd had removed the scarf, he ran his fingers through her curls, spreading them around her shoulders. He leaned close to smell her hair and suspected it had been washed with lemons.
Isabel closed her eyes as Chetwynd began to massage her neck, sending tingles through her body. “You seem a little tense,” he said.
When Isabel laughed in reply, he moved his hands to her shoulders, using his strong fingers in a gentle pattern to knead her tight muscles.
“The summer you were injured, I understood Emma’s mother to say that you were betrothed and soon to be married. I was surprised when Justin told me the marriage never took place, and later you told me old men think the worst. Exactly what happened?”
Without thinking about it, Isabel bent her head to one side, allowing her face to touch the strong hand on her right shoulder.
“When Count Frederick arrived, my scar was still new, a red mark above my eye. He questioned me about it. I told him soldiers had attacked me, and when he jumped to the conclusion that more had happened than actually did, I didn’t correct him. My father and grandmother were furious at me when he broke off the match.”
“It’s no wonder they were angry. Why didn’t you tell the count the truth?”
“I wasn’t sorry he broke off the match. Frederick was an old man, and I had no desire to marry him. He already had four children and two grandchildren.”
To Isabel’s regret, Chetwynd stopped massaging her shoulders. She had been mentally willing him to move his hands around to the front where her breasts were yearning for his touch. Instead he moved to sit in front of her so he could see her eyes.
“You must have been very willful, even then,” he said. “I imagine your father had his hands full trying to arrange another match.”
Isabel straightened up at his words, and her eyes blazed. He laughed at the swift change. “Are you going to deny you’re willful?”
She couldn’t help resenting the fact that he wasn’t more understanding of her situation. Did he think she should have been happy to marry an old man?
“I have a question for you, my lord. If you think I’m willful, why did you agree to my grandmother’s proposal?”
“It’s rather complicated,” he warned. “I hope you’ll be able to understand.”
“I’m not addled. Why don’t you try me?”
He sighed, realizing they were getting off to a bad start. Best to just state the truth, he decided.
“Justin knew I would be passing by Narbonne on my way home from the Spanish March. He was instrumental in getting me the assignment.” He didn’t explain that he had needed to get away from court. “Your brother described you as restless and unhappy. He said you had hinted many times that you wished to leave Narbonne.”
Expecting to hear about Queen Judith, Isabel was puzzled to be learning instead of the part played by Justin. Although she knew her brother had been aware of her desire to leave Narbonne, Chetwynd had given no clue that Justin had requested he bring her to Aachen.
“Did Justin ask you to bring me to court? That first night at Narbonne when I asked you to take me along on your journey, you refused.”
“He didn’t ask me to bring you, but I hoped to please him by doing so. If you really want to know why I refused your request, you had looked perfectly content swimming in the pond. Not at all like the unhappy maiden Justin described. Then in the great hall you boldly asked me to take you along on our journey. I found your request forward and my refusal was instinctive. I guess you could say I rebelled at your impertinence.”
Isabel sat even straighter. “Let me see if I understand. You intended to take me to Justin, but because I brought up the subject first, you were offended by my—what—forward request and impertinent manner?”
The sarcasm in her voice tested his patience. “Just calm down. There was more to it than that.”
Chetwynd hesitated to bring up the fact that his view of her was colored by the fact that she had just come from frolicking with her lover in the pond. When Justin had mentioned Isabel, Chetwynd had been eager to see her again. In his mind she was still the innocent he had rescued. But he had been unprepared for the grownup, sensual creature he had seen in the pond.
Waiting for Chetwynd to continue, Isabel watched him through narrowed eyes. Impatient, she stood up and began to pace the small room. “All right. I’ll assume my request offended your delicate sensibilities. You being such an innocent,” she said, thinking about his affair with the queen. “So you allowed me to believe you weren’t going to take me along. Even though you hoped to do just that.”
As Isabel paced the room, her loose hair swaying behind her, Chetwynd found himself losing track of what he had hoped to accomplish. He had never imagined a woman could be so desirable and provoking at the same time.
“Why did you agree to my grandmother’s suggestion that we marry? All you had to do was tell her that Justin wished me to join him in Aachen.”
She stopped abruptly and turned to stare down at him. “Wait, let me guess. Would it have anything to do with your desire to have a wife in order to create a cover for your love affair with the queen?”
Chetwynd jumped to his feet. When Isabel saw the fierce expression on his face, she was torn between being happy to g
et a reaction from him and afraid she had gone too far. Determined not to back down, she stared at him, waiting for a reply.
“I was afraid you might have heard some tales. I did wish to deflect gossip, but not cover a love affair. There is no love affair,” he said hoarsely as he stared into her eyes, willing her to believe him.
“If that’s true, why didn’t you just tell me that? Instead you acted as though I had offended you in some way,” she whispered.
Chetwynd looked away for a few minutes; then he turned back and said, “I saw you at the pond. I knew you were no longer the innocent maid Justin hoped to join him. You were a beautiful water nymph, and I wanted to join you. The problem was you were awaiting a lover, and it wasn’t me.”
Isabel was amazed at his assumption. “I wasn’t awaiting a lover.”
“There is no need to lie. I saw the way you moved in the water. No innocent maid moves that way.”
Embarrassed by what she had been doing when he came upon her, Isabel wondered how she could make him understand. “I was just imagining a lover. I saw Emma and her husband once. I’ve never been with anyone,” she said, watching his puzzled expression. “I would not lie about that, my lord.”
Chetwynd shook his head, trying to adjust his thoughts. Had he been mistaken about her from the very beginning? “Are you saying you’ve never had a lover?”
“Yes,” she whispered, hoping that was about to change.
Surprise was the emotion Isabel now saw on his face. “But you’re twenty years old,” he said.
His tone of voice made it clear he thought she was abnormal. “I know how old I am. I’m also unmarried and haven’t been with a man.”
He believed her, but her words changed everything. “I’d better go,” he mumbled. His body was still hard for want of her, but there was nothing he could do about it now but escape.
Isabel grabbed his arm. “You can’t run away now. You already did that at the pond, remember? What is it? Are you disappointed that I haven’t been with anyone?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that it changes things.”
“Just tell me this. Are you afraid if you stay and take me to bed, you’ll make our marriage real?”
Chetwynd looked away from her eyes and the hurt he saw there. “I told you I didn’t want a real marriage. But I’m thinking of you, too, Isabel. As a maid it will be easier to obtain an annulment, and your chances of making an excellent match will be better. I don’t wish to compromise you.”
“Aren’t you the noble one,” she scoffed.
“It’s late, Isabel. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I need to think this through, and it’s hard to do that just now.”
Isabel moved in front of the door. “Because you still want to take me to bed,” she said. “You’re disappointed to learn I’m a maid.”
“Of course not. I’ve explained that it changes things.”
Isabel had never felt so angry. She moved out of the way. “You’re right, you should go.” As he reached for the door, she added, “I’ll see if I can arrange it so I’m not a maid next time you feel the urge to bed me.”
Chetwynd stopped, turned to glare at her in disbelief, then rolled his eyes and laughed. “To think I believed I could control you.”
His laughter died as quickly as it had erupted. “If you so much as look at anyone in a seductive manner, I’ll tie you up and you’ll ride in a litter for the rest of the journey. Don’t think for a moment I won’t.”
When Chetwynd closed the door behind him, Isabel sank to her knees. Why did she have to say that? Because Chetwynd was able to reduce her to an idiot, she decided. Physically exhausted from the range of emotions she had experienced, she curled up on the pillows on the floor. Too tired even to weep, she soon gave up and fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS HER JOURNEY TOWARD AACHEN AND the court of King Louis continued, Isabel settled into the routine of the caravan. Everyone was up at first light, personal matters were quickly attended to, and the horses were packed for travel. If they had stopped for the night at a monastery or a manor house with a chapel, they would attend worship before starting out. Since hearing reports of bandits attacking caravans, Chetwynd sought the protected shelter of a monastery or manor whenever possible. If none was available, they camped under the stars, and guards were posted throughout the night.
Although the routine itself became familiar, the countryside they traveled through was always changing, and it continued to delight Isabel. In one lush meadow, blanketed with late-blooming flowers, she observed small green birds flitting from bloom to bloom. When she declared her pleasure at the sight, she discovered Ingram shared her interest in spotting birds. From that day on, he began pointing them out to her and identifying ones she didn’t recognize.
Before long, Jerome noticed their pastime and joined in. Although his sharp young eyes were effective in spotting birds, his loud enthusiasm often scared them away before Isabel or Ingram could spot them. After it had happened a few times, Ingram accused him of making up the sightings, and Jerome’s guilty expression led Isabel to believe it might be true.
While Isabel was forging friendships with the two men, Chetwynd remained a distant figure. At first the evenings were awkward, as she waited for some sign that Chetwynd might approach her. He was always polite to her, and even attentive when others were watching. But since he never spoke to her in private, Isabel suspected he intended to keep his distance and ignore the scene that had taken place the last time they were alone together.
Although Isabel considered approaching him, each time she thought about it, she found an excuse to back down. She still felt embarrassed about her outburst that had ended their confrontation. But she also remembered his harsh response and couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She was still struggling with the fact that he had assumed she’d had a lover. If he hadn’t happened upon her at the pond, matters might have progressed differently. Instead they started off badly, and she wasn’t sure things would ever improve between them.
Marianna was clearly puzzled by the situation, but she was protective of her mistress, and tried her best to shield Isabel from the gossip that continued about their marriage.
There was one incident during this time that strained the uneasy truce between Isabel and Chetwynd, and it revealed just how close to the surface their feelings toward each other lay. The caravan had been crossing a rugged mountain when it occurred. The trail was steep, and the terrain posed a challenge for Isabel. Ingram and Jerome stayed close, giving advice and watching to see that she navigated the climb safely.
When the danger of the steep climb was past, the two men relaxed their vigil. The caravan had started downhill, and Isabel was absorbed in the view of the valley below when her horse stumbled. Surprised by the sudden shift, Isabel tried to grab hold of her saddle, but she was too late to avoid falling. The path was narrow and before she knew what was happening, Isabel was rolling downhill, bouncing over rough ground. Instinctively she protected her head with her arms and cape, and her rolling came to a sudden stop when she collided with a tree in her path.
Aware that the downgrade was deceptively easier than the ascent, Chetwynd had been looking back at the long line behind him when it happened. He was horrified at the sight of Isabel losing her balance. Her fall brought her closer to where he was, and he jumped from his horse. Scrambling down the steep grade, Chetwynd reached her seconds after the tree stopped her from rolling farther.
Isabel was dazed by how quickly the accident had happened, but her heavy clothing had protected her from serious harm. Before she could untangle herself from the cape wrapped tightly around her, Chetwynd was kneeling over her.
“Stay still,” he ordered, pushing her onto her back when she tried to sit up. He loosened her clothing and gently ran his hands down each arm. By the time he started to do the same to her legs, Isabel had recovered enough to be affected by his intimate probing. Her face had warmed and her limbs were tingling. From her position on her ba
ck, she could see that there were many curious eyes trained upon them from above.
“I’m fine,” she said, wiggling to avoid the hands that had the power to do surprising things to her body.
Since the night in Arles, Isabel had done her best to forget how her body responded to his touch. Now she was afraid that he might perceive the effect he was having on her. No doubt her reaction would confirm his conviction that she was a wanton woman.
“Stay still,” Chetwynd said as she tried to move away from his hands. He knew his voice sounded cold, but he was too worried to care. “I need to make sure nothing is broken. You could be unaware of a serious injury.”
Isabel lay back, holding her body rigid and staring at the sky. She did her best to ignore his hands as they traveled over her ribs and up under her breasts. They were playing havoc with her nerves as they kneaded each new area.
“Does that hurt?” he asked as he gently pushed on her stomach.
“No, I’m fine, truly,” she said, trying not to weep. Although her heartbeat was racing and she felt dizzy, she suspected these symptoms had little to do with her fall.
“Is my horse injured?” she asked between clenched teeth, afraid to move until he gave her permission.
Relieved when he found no broken bones, Chetwynd relaxed. “Your horse is fine. He’s standing where you fell and is waiting patiently for you.”
Chetwynd extended a hand to help her to her feet. Isabel wished she could avoid his hand, but she recognized that she needed his help on the uneven ground. Before she could thank him for his help, Ingram had reached them and Chetwynd turned away from her.
“She’s uninjured,” he said sharply to Ingram. “Help her back to her horse, and this time keep a better watch on her.” Chetwynd moved away abruptly.
Embarrassed by the tears that filled her eyes at his departure, Isabel prayed they wouldn’t trickle down her face. She could tell Ingram was only pretending not to notice that she was upset.