Border Brides

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Border Brides Page 147

by Kathryn Le Veque


  Her brow furrowed even more. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, eagerly, as if he was preparing to swoop down upon her. She did rise from the chair, then, to put some distance between them. He was making her uncomfortable.

  “I… I am not sure…,” she stammered.

  “Please,” Cortez rose to his considerable height, watching her as she moved away from him. “I realize that all of this is unexpected and I find that I must explain myself so there will be no misunderstanding.”

  She paused several feet away to look at him, her hand on her forehead as if shoving back the headache that threatened. There wasn’t much she could say to deny him. She was feeling very resigned at the moment.

  “Very well,” she said. “Speak if you find it necessary although I am not sure there is much that either of us can say given the contents of the missive. What is done is done.”

  He nodded in concession. “Indeed it is,” he replied. “However, there is something I would make clear to you. I was present when your husband was cut down by archers. In fact, it was I who pulled him out of the line of fire once he was struck. Given the fighting going on around us and the severity of his wounds, we both knew it was of no use to attempt to save him.”

  Diamantha’s features paled and the hand came away from her head, moving to her chest as if to hold in her heart. “Why must you tell me such things?” she demanded in a hushed tone. “I do not wish to hear of it.”

  “I realize that,” he said honestly. “But you must. You must understand why you find me standing here tonight.”

  She realized she was blinking back tears but she fought them. “Speak, then. But know this conversation gives me no pleasure.”

  “Nor I,” he insisted softly. “Still, it must be said.” He paused, choosing his words carefully as he continued. “When Robert realized his time was growing short, he swore me to an oath. He spoke of his beautiful wife and daughter and how he worried for them. He made me promise that I would see to their safety and to their future, and since I lacked the courage to deny a dying man, I agreed. I promised him that I would take care of you both and although I was inclined at first to forget my pledge, in my heart I know that I cannot. Robert was my friend, my lady. He was a good man. And I would be forever guilty if I did not hold true to my promise to him and that is why you find me standing before you this night. I am here because I promised him that I would come.”

  By now, the tears were streaming down Diamantha’s cheeks. As his words sunk in, she hastily wiped at her face and sniffled delicately, struggling not to fall apart. But she found that she could not take her eyes off of the man. As he spoke those gentle words, something inside of her had changed. Her opinion of him had changed. She now saw him through different eyes, as if the man before her held some semblance of honor. He could have well forgotten a promise to a dying man and no one would have known. But he had not forgotten.

  “But why you?” she asked hoarsely. “It is not as if you were as close as brothers. You were friends, that is true, but there were men he was closer to. Why you?”

  “Because I was the only one there,” he replied quietly. “While everyone else was laying waste to the fields of Falkirk, I was near your husband when he was struck. It just happened to be me, my lady; it could have been anyone. But it was me.”

  Diamantha understood a great deal in that softly uttered explanation. But it also deepened her sense of despair. It was what Robert had wanted and she would be forced to comply with his wishes. Her bright gaze was intense.

  “How did my father become a part of this pact?” she asked. “Did you seek him out?”

  Cortez nodded slowly. “I did,” he replied. “I explained the situation to him and he was more than happy to comply.”

  So it was as she thought; or, at least, partially so. But the fact remained that she was betrothed to Cortez and there was nothing she could do about it. Resigned, she turned away from him. She realized that she found it difficult to look at him, difficult to realize that she was gazing at her next husband. She needed to acclimate herself to the idea. But there was still something else, something that had been gnawing at her since the day she had received news of her husband’s death. It was something that was difficult to think on and not look at Cortez with a great deal of resentment.

  “But you left him there,” she murmured. “You left my husband on the battlefield. You did not bring him home so that he could be properly buried.”

  Cortez knew that subject would arise and he was prepared. He had been prepared for three months. But now, gazing at the lady’s lovely profile, he resisted the urge to plead for her forgiveness.

  “It was not by choice, I assure you,” he responded quietly. “I explained the circumstances to your husband’s father at the time we delivered the news of Robert’s passing. I assumed he had told you.”

  Her head came up again and he was struck by the anguish in those beautiful dual-colored eyes. “I was told that the circumstances for bringing him home were impossible,” her voice was soft and hoarse. “Beyond that, I was not given the courtesy to know the details.”

  Cortez sighed softly, wondering if he should tell her the truth. As he gazed into her distressed features, he found himself telling her, whether or not it was a wise idea. He felt a good deal of pity for the woman.

  “It had been raining for weeks, my lady,” he spoke softly, deeply. “The ground surrounding Falkirk was a marsh. It was thick, black mud we found ourselves fighting in. A massive storm hit just as we were beginning our siege. Robert was struck in the midst of a horrible storm. As I tried to help him, Edward was making a final charge against the Scots and I was forced to leave him to answer the call of the charge.”

  She looked at him, not comprehending what he was saying. He exhaled sharply, running his fingers through his short black hair.

  “My lady, I cannot think of a way to delicately phrase what I must tell you so I will simply be truthful,” he fixed her in the eye. “I was not able to return to the place where I left Robert until the next morning. By then, the rains had stopped and the ground had begun to dry. There were literally hundreds of bodies that had been caught in the horrific mud. When the ground dried, it dried over and around them. There were many we could not recover simply because they were buried in the muck. Your husband was one of them.”

  She had no outward reaction other than to stare at him. It took several seconds for his words to sink deep. When they did, Cortez watched the magnificent eyes fill with tears and spill over. Like a waterfall, they coursed down her cheeks.

  “Then you left him buried in the muck with the others,” she whispered.

  “There was no way to find him.”

  “But surely you remembered where you left him?”

  He eyed her, nodding after a long pause. “I remembered.”

  “Did you at least return?” she wiped at her cheeks furiously, smearing tears. “Did you at least try to find him or did you simply discard him as one would a pile of rubbish?”

  Cortez kept his cool in what could be interpreted as an accusation. He knew she was distraught. “I returned to the area where I left him,” he said patiently. “The mud had partially dried over the entire area. There were no bodies.”

  “Then you assumed he was under the mud?”

  “There was nowhere else he could be.”

  She sniffled, wiping at her eyes as she contemplated his words. But there was something brewing in the brilliant green-brown depths, something he could plainly see. She took a deep breath, laboring for composure, when she met his gaze again.

  “Was my husband dead when you left him to return to the battle?” she asked.

  He stared at her. That was a question he had not expected. He did not want to lie to her but he wondered what manner of grief he was opening himself up for with his honest reply. “Nay, lady, he was not,” he whispered. “He was still alive.”

  Her eyes flickered, growing intense. “Then it is possible he did not die at all.�
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  He shook his head. “There was no way for the man to survive the wound,” he was beginning to lose his calm demeanor. Even on the best of days, he was not a normally patient man. “Even if he had crawled away, he would not have made it very far and we covered that entire area with men. Someone would have found him.”

  She shook her head, hard. “Nay,” she said firmly. “Robert was a strong man. It is possible that he simply crawled away to hide. Perhaps he survived somehow and even now is waiting for someone to come and find him. ’Tis possible that….”

  “Nay, Lady Edlington,” Cortez reached out and grabbed her arms, gently but firmly. She seemed to be losing grip with the reality of the situation. “You will understand me when I say that there was no way for the man to survive.”

  She took exception to his hands on her arms. Startled by his touch, she struggled to pull away.

  “But…!”

  “Listen to me,” he cut her off with a shake, their struggles increasing as she fought to pull away. “There was no way for Robert to survive. He had a great sucking chest wound that was oozing blood and innards. You could see his lungs inflating through the hole and the arrow had penetrated so far into his torso that it nearly cut his spine in half. He could not feel his legs, my lady. There was no way for the man to move much less crawl away. Trust me when I say he did not survive.”

  His words came out forcefully and brutally, trying to snap some sense into her. Diamantha’s struggles came to a halt and she stared at him, horrified, as the last few words came spilling from his lips.

  Cortez regretted the words before they even left his mouth. From the way Diamantha was staring at him, he knew it had been a mistake to tell her but his determination to make her understand that her husband could not have survived had put a noose around his common sense and severed it. Split, his tactless words had slipped through the gap. So he stared at Diamantha, wondering what damage he had just created.

  “I am sorry,” he whispered when he realized what he had done. “I was attempting… my lady, you must not hold out false hope that Robert survived. There was no way he could have. I am sorry to have explained it to you so harshly. I am sorry if I upset you.”

  Diamantha was in shock. Beyond tears, her mind muddled with distress, she had no other course of action than to pull from his grip, gently but firmly. Then she turned her back on him. She found that she could no longer look at the man.

  “I release you from your promise,” she murmured, moving away from him in a rather staggering gait. “I understand you made the promise to marry me because you had no other choice. It was unfair of Robert to ask it of you. I therefore release you from your promise to take care of me and Sophie.”

  Cortez watched her as she came to an unsteady halt next to the lancet window that overlooked the Dorset countryside to the south. Big gray clouds were blowing in from the sea and he could smell rain upon the wind. But his attention was riveted to the small woman with the miraculous brown hair and brilliant two-toned eyes. She was a truly ravishing creature; he’d always thought so. She was as unique and beautiful as her unusual name, Dee-a-MON-tha. He felt rather disappointed with her statement but knew why she said it. He had offended her. His disappointment grew.

  “Although I understand that you are attempting to be gracious, please understand that I gave my word,” he said quietly. “I cannot go back on my word nor would I. I made your husband a promise that I intend to fulfill.”

  “But I do not want to marry you.”

  “What you want is of no matter. I promised Robert that I would take care of you and your father has consented.”

  “I will not go.”

  “You have no choice.”

  She turned to look at him. Cortez watched her carefully, studying her expression, wondering how she was going to react. He’d hoped to take her back to Sherborne Castle this day but knew, in reality, that it was probably an unrealistic hope. Especially now. As he watched, she silently moved away from the window, walked past him, and left the solar. With a heavy sigh, he followed. Something told him not to let her out of his sight.

  It was a hunch too late.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was dawn on the second day of Cortez’s visit to Corfe Castle. He had originally come to collect his bride; now it had turned into a standoff. When Diamantha had left the solar yesterday afternoon, she had retreated to her bower and locked the door. Nothing anyone could do or say could coerce or convince her to open it.

  Cortez had been up all night trying to determine the best course of action. As the sun rose in the eastern sky, Cortez found himself wandering the grounds of the mighty castle. His men were camped in the lower bailey, a massive thing that was well removed from the upper bailey and keep. The lower bailey was separated from the upper by an enormous gatehouse and drawbridge, cut into the steep hillside upon which Corfe resided.

  The day dawned lovely and clear in spite of the rain that had fallen during the night. There was no chill in the air, even at this early hour, and it promised to be a brilliant day. Cortez stood in the upper bailey facing west, gazing out over the rolling green hills of Dorset and contemplating his next move. He truly could not fathom the woman’s resistance. Any well-bred lady would have been thrilled at the opportunity for another husband willing to marry her, especially given that she had already been married and had a young child. Cortez simply didn’t understand the reluctance.

  Or perhaps it was that he was simply over-eager. Cortez had distantly known Lady Edlington for years, as she had been a friend of his wife’s. The most prevalent memory of her was that she was clearly the most beautiful woman in the county, if not the whole of England. She had pale skin, pink cheeks, shiny reddish-brown hair and the most amazing eyes he had ever seen. Robert Edlington had been mad for the woman, proud and honored to have been her husband. When Rob had been dying of the nasty chest wound and had asked Cortez to take care of his wife, all Cortez could think of was the woman of unearthly beauty. When he saw her for the first time in several years the night before, he was struck not only by the fact that she had gotten more beautiful, but by her delicious body outlined in the dark blue damask. He hadn’t remembered that part. Everything he saw pleased him immensely.

  But she wanted nothing to do with him. He had been widowed three years and she had been widowed three months. She’d not yet come to terms with what he was already accustomed to. He knew he should give her time but he also knew he was unwilling to wait. He wanted her now and he wanted to return to Sherborne. He knew that once she came to know him, she would no longer be resistant, but they could not come to know each other if she locked herself away.

  He grunted with frustration, shifting on his big legs, when he caught a glimpse of something beside him. Looking to his left, he noticed a very small girl standing next to him. She was an astonishingly beautiful child, gazing up at him with bright blue eyes and long honey-colored hair. It took Cortez a moment to realize he was gazing into Rob Edlington’s face. The little girl was his spitting image. Slightly startled, not to mention curious, Cortez smiled faintly.

  “Greetings,” he said.

  The little girl gazed innocently up at him. “Greetings,” she repeated.

  “Who are you?”

  “Sophie Amalia Teodora Edlington,” she spit out the long name with a charming lisp in her speech. “Who are you?”

  Cortez’s smile grew. “My name is Cortez.” He looked around to see if there was a nurse around. Seeing no one, he peered at her. “Are you alone?”

  She nodded, holding up a poppet made of rags. “This is Rosie.”

  Cortez pretended to greet the doll. “My lady,” he refocused on Sophie. “Did you come outside by yourself?”

  Sophie cuddled the doll. “Aye.”

  “Where is your nurse?”

  She shrugged disinterestedly. “I have a pony,” she announced. “Would you like to see him?”

  Cortez gazed down at her, feeling his heart warm to the child. She was absolu
tely adorable. “Mayhap later. You should go back inside where it is safe.”

  She reached out and took his hand, tugging. He couldn’t help but follow as she began to pull him across the small upper bailey.

  “My pony’s name is General,” she told him as they headed for the gatehouse that led into the lower bailey. “He came from France. My grandfather bought him for me.”

  The ground sloped sharply towards the rocky and uneven path of the gatehouse. More than once Sophie nearly slipped but managed to keep her footing with Cortez’s substantial help. Cortez followed her, or was rather pulled, to the gatehouse where several Edlington soldiers were stationed. They watched curiously as little Lady Sophie pulled the large figure of Cortez de Bretagne through the gatehouse and onto the drawbridge that covered the gap between the upper and lower baileys. One of the soldiers came forward as the pair passed through.

  “Is there a problem, my lord?” he asked, his gaze moving between them.

  Cortez lifted his free hand helplessly as Sophie tugged. “I fear I’ve been abducted.”

  “Shall I send for her mother?”

  Cortez looked at the man, an inkling of an idea coming to him. The more he thought on it, the more he settled on the thought. “Aye,” he said slowly. “Send for her mother. Tell her that de Bretagne and her daughter are in the lower bailey and await her.”

  The soldier nodded swiftly and went on the run. Meanwhile, Sophie had pulled him down into the lower bailey where one hundred of the king’s troops were housed, men that served de Bretagne. The stables were lodged against the eastern wall and Sophie took Cortez in that direction. He passed his men along the way, smiling wanly at the collection of confused and amused faces. It was a rather comical sight but no one would dare laugh. Their large and powerful liege was being led around by a toddler, and going quite willingly. As Cortez followed Sophie through a muddy patch, he was joined by a senior sergeant.

  “Am I to assume you are being taken against your will, my lord?” Sergeant Peter Merlin was an older man with a calm, wise manner about him and had served de Bretagne for four years. He nodded his head in Sophie’s direction. “The young lady has you well in hand.”

 

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