‘And you? Are you in love with…? Oh, forgive me. I should not have asked that. What must you think of me? No, don’t answer. I have no right to know.’
‘I shall answer you, just the same.’ Bard was well practised in The Art of the Sigh: this one came from the ‘alas’ shelf. ‘I thought I was in love, damoiselle, when we were at home and undiscovered. Now I realise that, since she’s been with my brother, my heart is moved more towards tenderness than love. I’m duty-bound to relieve her distress; even though she’s a Medwin, I bear the family no grudge, as Silas does, nor do I believe my sister to be in any mortal danger. But when Isolde places all her hopes in me, as she did in York, what can I do but help?’
Ann-Marie wiped the tear away now that it had been noticed. ‘He was to have been mine,’ she whispered. ‘If only things could return to the way they were before all this happened. If only I’d known of her distress when we met, I might have been able to show her more kindness.’
Bard stared at her. ‘Your pardon, damoiselle? You say that Silas and you…?’
‘Yes, it’s true. My father and Silas do business together, but he’d certainly withdraw his support if he thought Silas was not going to keep to his promise of marriage. It was to have been in two years, because of my being engaged on the Duchess’s affairs, but the agreement was made last year.’
‘And your father? He’s a merchant, too?’
‘Diamonds,’ she whispered, with downcast eyes. ‘We live in Antwerp. I’m the only daughter.’
Even Bard had heard of Antwerp’s diamond trade. ‘Is that what Silas trades in? He relies on your father, does he?’
‘Completely. It would be the end of him. My father must never know of this business, sir. You won’t tell him, will you? He believes Silas to be above reproach.’
‘So you still hope to marry him, damoiselle?’
Ann-Marie dabbed again with a pretty embroidered handkerchief. ‘Like you, sir, I’m beginning to have doubts after hearing of his treatment of Isolde, but I shall do as my father bids me. Poor Isolde. So brave. If she were to lose your love, the feeling of rejection might tear her apart.’
‘Yes,’ said Bard, meaning nothing of the kind. From what he’d seen as he burst unexpectedly into her bedchamber, Isolde’s impending rejection was not the issue, but her virginity. That had been intact when he’d last seen her, and very highly she had held it. If that scoundrel of a brother had changed that state of affairs, then he deserved all that was coming to him, for Isolde’s precious commodity had been the reason for the pursuit to both York and Brugge.
It could not have fallen better into place if he had orchestrated it himself, Bard mused as he pleasured the kitchen lass as soon as Ann-Marie had left. Fortune was certainly on his side here in Brugge, showing him a way to get even with Silas and also the distinct possibility of taking both Isolde and the diamond heiress without either of them being any the wiser. Meanwhile, refreshed in mind and spirit, it needed only sleep to complete his physical needs, with no one to silence about his new conquest except the maid, and that was in hand. When Pieter and Mei appeared some time later, the maid was busily plucking a goose and, when Silas and Isolde returned, Bard was fast asleep in his small room at the back of the house, replete in every sense.
Isolde had been polite to Hans Memlinc’s chattery wife but had not been assailed by her in the studio, where only Hans and his apprentices had been at work, and though she had been fascinated at the time by the processes involved, she could now concentrate on little except Bard’s unexpected appearance. Silas might think of it as an inconvenience, but to her it was a catastrophe that kept pace in her mind with how pleased she had been to see him in York, how quick to flee with him. Rarely had she missed a chance to show Silas how unwilling she was to stay here; now he would expect her to behave consistently in Bard’s presence unless, of course, he knew the secret workings of her heart on that issue also, which she could hardly doubt after his remarks about bargains and gifts.
They had sailed home through the sleek brown water that dived beneath low bridges and cut a path through tall anonymous buildings, and he had lain his hand over hers, whispering. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort it out one way or another.’
She had not asked how he knew what was on her mind but, by her silence, showed him that he had guessed correctly, and she was able to find some comfort in his earlier remark that his plans would not be changed by having Bard with them. The expected confrontation, however, was delayed by Bard’s deep sleep, which did not end until the next morning, after Silas’s departure to the Lucca Merchants’ House on Needlestreet.
Isolde was in the little plot of ground in conference with the gardener and his lad, discussing the height of a rose arbour along one side. Trelliswork tunnels, they told her, were high fashion here in Flanders. Bard’s patience with this garden talk was limited and, taking Isolde by the elbow, he eased her away at the first sign of an agreement.
She frowned. ‘Bard, I’ve not finished here. You go in; I’ll join you in a moment or two.’
But Bard’s misgivings had come alive again by daylight and needed instant clarification. He kept hold of her elbow. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I’ve not travelled all this way to wait upon the gardener’s time. This way, if you please.’ He seated her where Ann-Marie had yesterday come down off her high horse to feed him pieces of chicken and where his dishevellment could best be appreciated in the balmy warmth of a secluded corner. It had worked a treat. But Isolde was no AnnMarie. His tricks were already well known to her, and, now that his brother had had her at close quarters, it would not be so easy to regain ground. But how close was close?
For Isolde, his attempts at charm had ceased to have any effect except irritation, and the inevitable comparisons between this shallow-minded young rake and his elder brother were present at every word and turn of head. How could she ever have been attracted to him?
He tried the tender approach, taking one of her hands in both of his. ‘Well, chérie? We can speak freely now we’re alone. You’ve had an ordeal,’ he said, softly. ‘Can you tell me about it?’
She stifled a sigh, knowing how he watched for every sign. ‘There’s nothing much to tell,’ she said.
‘Eh?’ He breathed a laugh. ‘You were together on a boat for days, and now here with him, and there’s nothing to tell? Come on, love. You don’t have to hide it from me. How long was it before he…?’
She removed her hand in some irritation. ‘It was not like that. And anyway, you’ve no right to be asking me such questions.’
‘I thought I had,’ he said. ‘Did he make you sleep with him?’
Technically, the answer was yes. ‘I slept with Cecily,’ she said. ‘Ask her.’
‘So you’re—?’
‘Bard, your brother has not harmed me in any way. He behaved like a gentleman.’ She stopped short of ‘the perfect’. ‘If I appear to be upset by your appearance here, it’s because I was sure you had a hand in the plan to abduct me and revenge Felicia, and my anger has stayed with me. I felt betrayed.’
Bard leaned towards her and captured her hand once more. ‘Sweetheart, I was so relieved to find you safe here. I’d have walked it to reach you. I couldn’t bear to think of you weeping, deserted…’
She had not wept. ‘How did you find out what happened?’
‘In York? Well, Silas obviously intended me to know, once I reached his house. He told me how to get there. It’s a huge place on Coney Street, just by the wharf. But his servants just laughed: thought it was a huge jest, you know, brothers, and all that. They said he’d been to York the previous week, then he was off to Flanders.’
‘What about Scarborough?’
‘They didn’t mention Scarborough. Perhaps that was a change of plan.’
‘So then what?’
‘Well, I tied the horses you’d borrowed from Fryde outside the Merchant Adventurers Hall after curfew, then I stayed overnight at Silas’s house. And the next morning I went down the whar
f to ask if Silas was due; the dockers at the Queen’s Crane said exactly what his servants had said, that he’d been. They didn’t expect to see him for weeks. I was furious, I can tell you. The bastard! Anyway, I found a cargo ship that was due to set sail down to Hull and then to Flanders and, as it happened, we had a fair wind but, oh, Isolde!’ He clutched at his stomach and groaned. ‘Never again! Next time I’ll learn to walk on water.’
‘You saw nothing of Master Fryde in York?’
‘Not a thing. Did Silas send him a message, do you know?’
‘Not that I know of. But he’s sent one to my father.’
‘Eh?’ Bard frowned. That was not good news. It placed him in the direct firing line. ‘He’s told your father? He wants a ransom? Greedy bastard!’
‘No!’ Isolde said sharply. ‘He’s told my father that he’ll keep me as long as Felicia’s a prisoner, and let him know that I’m safe. I don’t believe he’s interested in a ransom, and anyway the only thing the La Vallons would be interested in would be the return of your sister, wouldn’t it? And my father’s not known for changing his mind. Quite the contrary.’
‘Not even for his daughter’s safety?’
‘My safety’s not the issue. But I don’t know. I think I shall have to sit it out here in Brugge for a while.’
Bard’s voice softened. ‘Perhaps we could both sit it out here, chérie. It’s as good as York any day.’ He leaned towards her, caressing her cheek with a travelling finger that found a quick route down her neck and into the edge of her chemise. It was caught and held off, but Bard was undeterred. ‘There’s a lot of exploring to be done,’ he whispered, ‘and as long as he believes we’re behaving ourselves, we could stay here in his little palace while he’s out on his business trips. Housekeepers, eh? What d’ye think of that? If he’s intent on keeping you here, I could be his assistant gaoler. I’d make a very sympathetic gaoler, Isolde.’ His other hand sneaked round the back to hold her neck and chin in his direction and, as her eyes flickered and watched his, he believed he was winning back some of the ground he had lost. ‘So,’ he teased, ‘what was all that I saw when I arrived yesterday, my lass? Getting ready to seduce him, were you?’
Slowly but forcibly, his hand was prised away from her neck and held by the wrist. ‘No, Bard,’ Isolde said. ‘As a matter of fact, I was thanking your brother for the gift of a dog lead, nothing more. Does that answer your question?’ Her eyes were wide open now, holding nothing of the languorous invitation he had been so sure of, and, although she was not even perturbed enough to move out of his half-embrace, neither was she anywhere near ready to give anything away.
Bard was not easily deterred, for this was one of the most enjoyable parts of the hunt: the pursuit of the prey. There were times, though, when persuasion had to take a more positive line, for if he did not take control of the situation as a matter of some urgency, it was obvious that his treacherous brother would. He had already seen the signs. Laughing, he allowed her to keep hold of his wrist, now lying over her shoulder, as this kept her prisoner, too. His other hand closed over her breast and so captured her within a circle from which she could hardly escape without an undignified struggle.
Undignified or not, Isolde was prepared to indulge herself, if need be, and although Bard was strong, her attempts to be free of him were meant to be taken seriously. ‘Get off!’ she snapped, twisting away.
A voice, unmistakably Silas’s, came from nowhere. ‘She doesn’t like it, lad. I tried it myself, but she won’t have it at any price.’
Relieved, but very irate, Isolde propelled herself sideways and somewhat off-balance into Silas’s arms. Not prepared to explain, she would have quickly disengaged herself to head off towards the house, but he caught her around the waist and held her firmly against him, her face beneath his chin. Before she could guess his intention, his mouth was warmly over hers in a kiss of greeting that was clearly meant to impress Bard as much as her.
She had been starved for days with only the memory of her nights in his cabin to feed on. Pretence was beyond her, the need for it way out of range, and the kiss she returned could not have failed in its message of desperate hunger, a plea to him to relieve her yearning.
Silas was prepared for anger and some resistance, but hardly for this. Nevertheless, her response reassured him that the line he was about to take with Bard was just as acceptable to her, even allowing for her unpredictability, and his soundless message breathed upon her lips. ‘Say nothing’, was the only insurance he had time for.
Holding her to his side, Silas regarded his brother’s displeasure with faint surprise. ‘I could have told you,’ he said, ‘but you were asleep. I didn’t think to wake you with the information, though I suppose I should have. You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, lad…’ he motioned to Bard to sit again and shared the bench opposite with Isolde ‘…and already you’ve had the kitchen lass, halfway there with one of the duchess’s ladies, and now an attempt upon my woman. I have to hand it to you, you don’t waste time, do you? Even after a voyage in a cog, you’re going a fair way to beating my father’s record, I’d say.’
By this time Bard’s pallor was quickly being replaced by a mottled flush and an Adam’s apple that yo-yoed alarmingly, turning his first words into a croak. ‘How the hell did you know that?’
‘What…about the maid?’ Silas leaned towards him, frowning. ‘How do I know what’s going on in my own house?’ he said, incredulously. ‘Wake up, lad, for pity’s sake. How the hell d’ye think I know? Did you believe I’d let you have the run of this place whilst my back was turned? You, of all people?’
‘You’ve…you’ve not dismissed her, have you?’
‘Of course I’ve dismissed her. I’ll not have your brat carried around my home for nine months. I hire my servants to work, not to breed,’ Silas said harshly.
‘So what d’ye think those other two were doing, then? What d’ye call ‘em…Pieter and Mei?’ Bard asked, petulantly.
‘Watching to see what you got up to, lad.’
‘No…they were—’
‘No, they weren’t. How do you think I know about Paulus Matteus’s daughter coming here?’ Silas felt Isolde flinch and signalled to her with a quick press of his fingertips on her waist. ‘And who came with her, how long she stayed, where you talked? And did you really think she’d keep quiet about it, anyway? Did you?’
‘She told you? When? I don’t believe it.’
‘Then don’t. She told her father. Her father’s a friend of mine. Has been for years. I saw him this morning. The poor lass was so full of you she couldn’t help herself, but you could at least have given her the facts straight instead of a bowl of codswallop. He’ll not let you marry his daughter, you know, if you can’t stick to the truth. He’s a canny merchant, is Paulus. One of the best. And he knows a diamond from a lump of—’ He glanced at Isolde, restraining himself.
‘Marry her? Is that what she said?’
‘Well, the word cropped up somewhere, and I’m damned sure I didn’t suggest it.’
Isolde could not keep quiet any longer. ‘What was this bowl of codswallop? Do I not have a right to know, since it probably concerns me?’
Silas was quick with the denial before Bard could begin to dissemble. ‘No, sweetheart. It concerns me. Bard believes—do you not, brother?—that he can get even with me for stealing you from under his nose by taking the woman who pretended to him that she and I have an agreement to marry.’
‘She said it was so. In two years, she said.’
‘She would. She takes her rejection hard, but I can’t help that. You have it from me that it is not so, so you’re running down the wrong track, lad. Now, I could have told her father this morning about her silly claims, but it would have upset him and got her into hot water, so I didn’t. Besides which, he seems to think that the handsome young brother of his friend Silas Mariner who made such an impression on his daughter is like a new toy that he can’t deny her, and I’m certainly not goin
g to thwart that, if that’s what she’s after. It’ll be something of a relief,’ he muttered, giving Isolde a gentle squeeze.
‘And that would be convenient, brother, wouldn’t it?’ said Bard, adopting some sarcasm of his own. ‘I came here to rescue Isolde, and you pair me off with one of your rejects. Well, that’s very neat.’
‘Rescue Isolde from what, exactly?’
‘From you.’
‘And does she look as if she wants to be rescued from me?’
‘You abducted her, man! You cannot take a woman like that.’
‘Her father took our sister; I’ve taken his daughter. That makes her mine as long as he has Felicia. Isolde is my woman, like it or not.’
Bard glared from one to the other, then accusingly at Isolde, and, though she knew exactly what was passing through his mind, she also knew that, in Silas’s presence, he dared not speak it. ‘Are you warning me off, Silas?’
Silas leaned back, half-dropping his eyelids. ‘Well done, lad,’ he said. ‘You’re beginning to get the message at last. So, while you’re in respective mode, understand this. If the idea of having a diamond merchant for a father-in-law appeals to you, you’d best begin to stick to one woman at a time, because Paulus Matteus is an indulgent but jealous father. Perhaps now is the time to weigh up the pros and cons before you get in any deeper. Oh, and by the way, apparently Ann-Marie believes you’ve almost seduced her already, but she doesn’t take too happily to rejection. Gets offended rather quickly. You can stay here for the time being, though.’ He did not add as long as you behave yourself, but it was clearly implicit in the offer and Bard was not so incensed that he felt bound to reject it, or even to ask for modifications.
It gave Isolde little pleasure to be wrangled over by two brothers, or even to be claimed by the one she wanted as if she were a piece of prestigious merchandise. She would prefer to have been wooed. Silas’s use of the term ‘lady’ and ‘woman’ appeared to depend on the circumstances and, whilst the latter had overtones of possession and was therefore, in a way, exciting, she would have liked him to say that she was his lady, conveniently forgetting, of course, that she had recently denied it. Even so, Silas’s uncompromising declaration of ownership removed in one fell swoop any need for her to find an excuse to stay, though, had she thought about it more rationally, she would have seen how immaterial were her wishes on that point. In a sense, that little crisis was over, for now Bard would leave her alone.
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