The Dumont Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “Have we met, sir?” Christian decided it was time to interrupt.

  “We have not, my lord,” the man answered without taking his gaze off Emalie. “But I know Emalie.”

  Christian bristled at his familiarity and at using her name and not her title. A pain began in the pit of his stomach and grew as he noticed John’s glee over both Emalie’s and his discomfort.

  “How so?” He looked at Alyce and nodded to her. Emalie appeared close to fainting and he was afraid to think of the reason.

  “DeSeverin’s family and the Montgomeries come from the same part of Anjou. William has known Emalie since they were children,” John answered for the man.

  Seeing how pale she was, Christian knew he needed to get her away from the prince. “My lady? I see you have once more overworked yourself. Please retire until later.” Emalie blinked several times and then focused on his face. He smiled at her, hoping to reassure her and called to Alyce. “Alyce, see the countess to her chambers and let no one disturb her.”

  Alyce moved close to Emalie and supported her steps away. Walter followed close, making certain no one interfered.

  Christian invited John to the table, but the prince watched until Emalie was out of the room. He exchanged some curious glances with DeSeverin before the two took their seats. Although he had Fitzhugh serve his best wine, Christian tasted it not due to worrying over Emalie’s reaction to John and William.

  “When is the babe due?” John asked after he had drunk some of the wine and torn off a chunk of bread.

  “The midwife says the spring. But being the countess’s first birth, she says it’s difficult to tell.”

  “The spring? I think not,” John offered, raising his voice louder.

  “Pardon me?” Christian looked at John.

  “What think you, William? I think the countess looks to be further along than that. Do you agree that she will not make it past Candlemas Day?”

  William grunted and raised his cup in a mock salute.

  A part of Christian knew exactly what this was, but he refused to fall into their game without knowing the rules and the prize. Well, he could guess the prize— Emalie and the titles and lands she brought to her husband.

  Before he could go any further, Luc approached his chair. Bowing to the prince, Luc leaned in and whispered. The words struck fear in his heart, but he knew that he could not allow these vultures the satisfaction of knowing how they had terrorized Emalie.

  “My lord,” he said to John, “there is a problem I must deal with. My steward will see to your needs until dinner.”

  He gave John no chance to stop him, for he stood and followed Luc through the kitchens to the back stairs and up to their chambers. Without knocking, he entered and found her on their bed, her face bloodless and her breathing labored.

  “The midwife?”

  “I sent for her immediately, my lord. And for Timothy.” Alyce hovered close to her mistress.

  And all he could do was sit by her bed and wait. He did so and, as he waited, he took one of her frigid hands in his and rubbed it. She would not meet his gaze, but she mumbled something under her breath over and over. Her words were too faint to hear.

  Soon the door opened and Enyd of the village entered. He thought to argue about leaving, since he was the husband and there was not a place on Emalie’s body he had not seen or touched. But this was not the time to stake his claim. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her in the care of the women.

  Dinner was a solemn meal, for in spite of John’s bids to goad him, Christian remained calm. He recognized John’s maneuvers—he had used them many times in battle himself.

  Distract.

  Disarm.

  Destroy.

  With no word on Emalie’s condition, he chose to ignore many deliberate attempts to question and insult both his and Emalie’s honor. Although this was neither the time nor place, he knew it would come. Finally, as soon as was reasonable, considering John’s royal status, he excused himself and went upstairs to await news.

  The door opened as he put his hand on the latch and Alyce invited him inside. Emalie was awake, but looked pale and frightened. Enyd stopped him with instructions.

  “She is to rest as much as possible, my lord.”

  “Of course.”

  “Timothy has made some concoctions for her to drink to strengthen her and the babe. Make certain—” she glared at both Alyce and him “—that she follows his directions.”

  “Will she…?”

  Her stern expression stopped his questions.

  “She had some contractions today and a spotting of blood. With some precautions, all should be well.”

  He nodded and she took her leave. Alyce left also and he was alone with his wife.

  “Do you have need of anything? A drink? Some food?”

  She shook her head. Christian saw her eyes fill with tears and he sat down beside her on the bed, opening his arms to her. Without hesitation, she leaned into his embrace. She sobbed, murmuring words of sorrow and pleading for his forgiveness.

  “Emalie. Emalie, please, you must calm yourself. Please.”

  He held her and rocked her until she finally stopped crying and fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms. ’Twas some time past that before he could slip out and lay her down on the bed.

  Never had he seen her like this, not even in the face of his fury had she lost her control. Although he knew that the pregnancy was part of her overreaction, he also suspected that the truth of her pregnancy was the other part. A truth she still would not share with him, but with the prince’s arrival and her reaction to him and his crony, one that became very clear. One that he truly did not want to face right now.

  A soft knock at the door caught his attention. It opened a crack and Luc peered inside. Waving him in with a gesture to keep quiet, he waited to hear the reason for this intrusion. Since Luc knew of Emalie’s condition, he knew his friend would interrupt him for only something of importance.

  “His Highness wants to speak with you. Now.”

  “Can it not wait? I do not wish to leave her alone.”

  “If I thought it could, I would never have come here. Chris, he ordered me to tell you he wishes to discuss personal matters with you and it must be now. It sounded so much like a threat, I knew I must tell you.”

  Christian slid off the bed, careful not to wake her now that she had calmed.

  “Where?”

  “As sacrilegious as it sounds, he requests your presence in the chapel.” The disdain was clear in his friend’s voice.

  “Will you stay here?” He would not leave her alone.

  “Fatin waits without and will stay at your lady’s side. I will stand guard until your return. No one with harmful intent will enter here.”

  “My thanks, Luc.”

  He walked out into the hall and waited for Fatin to enter the chamber and Luc to take his place in front of the door. Content that Emalie would not be disturbed, he walked quickly through the keep, out into the yard and into the stone chapel.

  The prince waited for him at the altar. Luc was right—it felt like sacrilege to meet this man in this holy place. Motioning him forward, Christian waited for his attack. John did not mince words.

  “I have wanted Greystone, nay, all of Harbridge’s properties, for some time. And until my brother and mother interfered, I would have had it, and the countess, as planned.”

  John paused and turned to face him. “I will offer you the same proposal I offered DeSeverin.”

  Although rage at the prince’s audacity filled him, he knew that his survival—and Emalie’s—depended on him keeping his temper in check. “And that was?”

  “You may hold the title and manage the lands, but I control it all and the wealth that comes from it. Oh, and of course, the fair Countess Emalie is mine whenever I choose to avail myself of her most plentiful charms.”

  John knew not how close to death he was at that moment. And unwisely, he chose to continue. “William a
nd I had so little time to train her, but I am certain a man of your sophistication has taught her much during these months. I am tempted, I must confess, upon seeing her lush breasts, not to wait for her to drop the whelp before having her.”

  Christian’s vision blurred as fury coursed in his veins. A quick death was not good enough; he would draw it out as long as possible. He fought off the drive to kill and focused on how Emalie would survive this bastard with no one there to protect her. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “I fear I must decline Your Highness’s generous offer.”

  “Decline? You do not understand your situation here, Dumont. I am offering my friendship to you.”

  “I am Richard’s man.”

  “So am I. I have spent the past few months showing my love for my brother and gaining his forgiveness for all sorts of imagined transgressions while he was so unfortunately imprisoned abroad.”

  Christian prayed that God would strike the man dead for sinning so grievously in his house, but it did not happen.

  “Did I mention that he has made me his heir to receive all of England upon his death? I should think that you would want to count among those who supported me and not among my enemies.”

  “I thank you again for your kind offer, but again I must decline.” Christian could stomach no more of this. He turned to leave.

  “Did you know that the old earl betrothed the fair Emalie to my friend William before his untimely death?”

  Christian stopped walking and waited for the rest of it. “And William, as anxious as he was to wed a woman of such charms, anticipated their vows. Who could blame him? With a woman who has as much to offer as she does, what man could resist her pleas to take her? I’m certain that neither you nor I could.”

  He pictured his hands around the prince’s neck, choking the breath and life from him. It was the only thing that kept him from doing it in reality.

  “Now a child exists and William has betrothal documents and wants to press his suit to regain Emalie and his child.”

  “Why would you give me this opportunity?”

  “Because, Dumont, I observed you and realized quickly that you are better for this than DeSeverin. Unlike him, you have an ability to make these lands successful and thereby valuable to me.” He heard John’s steps approaching from behind him.

  “So, do I support his suit or do I lose the documents to prove his claim?” He placed his hand on Christian’s shoulder. “I leave in the morning and would have your answer on it before I go.”

  Christian nodded.

  “You do have one other choice in this, Dumont. If you wish, I will see to a quiet annulment and you can simply leave all of this behind. You leave with your honor intact and able to enter into a true marriage when you locate an appropriate bride.”

  He started to pull away and John just laughed. “Son of Guillaume Dumont, think well on this, for if you back the wrong Plantagenet, you could end up in the ground with those others who made that mistake.”

  John passed him and laughed on his way out of the chapel as though his words carried some humor. The urge to scream and kill and vomit came upon him, but he knew from experience that he must regain control of himself or everything and everyone he cared about were in danger.

  Since his determination had not changed during the dark hours that he spent at Emalie’s bedside, he saw no reason to confront John with his decision. The prince would know that no word was an answer, too.

  John’s own words had made the decision clear to him. John told him that if he acquiesced in this he would be free to seek a true marriage.

  A true marriage.

  He had made a true marriage with Emalie the night they had first joined as one. The pledges made months before were confirmed in the physical act that made them man and wife. He had claimed her as his own that night so that no annulment could undo what was now real before God and man. And more importantly, in making his decision, what was real to him.

  All he could do now was wait for John’s response and decide what to do when it came. He would like to have all the facts to base his judgments on, but with Emalie in this precarious condition, he could not risk it.

  He doubted not that John would move quickly; he may have begun his plans while offering friendship. Shaking his head, Christian knew that John had most likely set up contingencies for both possibilities.

  Without Emalie’s help, he could not fight John. He was not sure that he could fight him even with her help, for what if John possessed what he claimed to have?

  The most disturbing part of this now was John’s insinuation that he, too, had been involved physically with his wife. He could not imagine Emalie with John, or William either, if he admitted it to himself. Was he simply deluding himself in this?

  He glanced over at her as she slept. How many times had he done this since their trip to Lemsley? He found that he enjoyed sitting at her side or lying next to her in the bed and watching as she slept. He shook his head at the absurdity of it.

  What man would be content to sit like this?

  She sighed then, drawing his attention to her face. The fire’s light played softly on her features. The swelling of her eyes was less now, but her breathing was still ragged and not smooth. How long until she calmed?

  He thought back again to the night in Lemsley when he made her his own. And even back to the night when it had almost happened. There was a sense of innocence about her sexually that was a part of her. She had not been exposed to the type of debasement that relations with John would have brought about in someone. She did not fake the wonderment as he brought her to the edge of pleasure and beyond.

  If she was more uninhibited with him now during their bed play, there was still a basic freshness to her. No, he shook his head again, John’s depravity had not touched her.

  That did not, however, mean that the child was not his. It was always a possibility that John fathered the child, stealing that task from his willing crony DeSeverin. There was most likely no way to tell to a certainty unless the child was born with some telltale marking or coloring that was clearly from one man and not the other.

  Christian stood and rubbed his eyes. Dawn would be accomplished soon and this endless night would end. But, he feared, the darkness would be with them for much longer.

  Distract.

  Disarm.

  Destroy.

  John had distracted him with his sudden appearance.

  John sought to disarm him with the offer that would allow him to remain as lord of Greystone but at a completely unacceptable price.

  Christian wondered when John would try to destroy him and how he would wield the weapons he held— Emalie’s fear and participation, DeSeverin’s complicity and his own fear of falling into the same trap that had killed his father.

  The pain in his gut intensified with each passing hour. Well, he thought as he decided to try to sleep, the game was underway.

  God help them all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Her eyes did not want to open. They hurt and felt swollen and would not cooperate with her efforts to wake. Her head pounded and the rest of her body ached as she tried to move.

  “Here now, my lady. Let me help you.”

  “Fatin?”

  “Aye, my lady. Alyce runs some errands and will return anon. I am here to watch over you.”

  Emalie opened her eyes now and looked around the room. The sunlight streaming in through the window told her it was full day. The night and morning had passed without her knowledge. Glancing at the table next to the bed, she saw several bottles and goblets laid out in an order she knew Timothy would have done.

  “Oui, madam,” Fatin said, reaching for the one closest to her. “I have instructions to follow under ‘pain of death,’ your husband declared.”

  Emalie pushed herself up to sit. “I would not want you put to death on my account, Fatin. I promise to obey you in this.”

  Emalie held her breath and drank the brew down in one long s
wallow. She had some idea of what ingredients Timothy would use and knew their bitter taste was difficult to conceal. Fatin offered her some wine to wash the taste from her mouth.

  “My husband?”

  “He goes about his duties and left word he wishes to know when you wake.”

  “The prince?”

  Fatin’s mouth looked as if she had tasted spoiled meat. With disgust evident in her voice, she answered, “The prince and his entourage left early this morn. And none too soon for me.”

  Emalie needed to ask. “Was anyone…hurt?”

  Fatin hesitated as though she did not want to answer. “Aye, my lady. One of the village girls, but not greatly. Enyd said all would be well.”

  She had failed once again. Because of her own fears, another of her people suffered. If she had only kept her wits about her and made arrangements with one of the village harlots who did not mind John’s particular tastes. That usually placated him during his stay and kept the innocent safe. She would have Alyce find out more for her.

  “Fatin, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “My lady?”

  “Before you send word to my husband, would you bring Father Elwood here for me?”

  “You would see the old priest before your husband?” Fatin asked.

  “Please.”

  Fatin nodded and walked to the door.

  “Your husband also said that the person who allowed you out of your bed would be put to death. Do not risk my life while I find your priest for you.”

  Emalie nodded in agreement and watched as Fatin left. She must do this before she lost her courage, for yesterday she had given in to evil. Leaning back against her pillows, she waited.

  A short while later, a knock at the door came and Fatin opened it after a few moments’ delay. The priest who had served her family’s spiritual needs for many years followed behind. Once Fatin had checked on her, she left the chamber to inform her husband, giving her the privacy she needed.

  His frown caught Luc’s attention and they both watched Fatin approach the stables. Luc had other things on his mind and the lustful grin on his face made no secret of them. Christian, however, was concerned because Fatin was supposed to be tending Emalie while Alyce was gone.