Susan Spencer Paul

by The Bride Thief

  Justin lifted his head sharply. “Undo matters?”

  Hugh nodded. “Sir Myles wants Lady Isabelle back. Indeed, he has gone to Duke Humphrey and demanded her return.”

  “Sir Myles may rot in Hell.”

  “And so he may,” Hugh agreed readily. “I believe you’ve made your feelings more than clear about that, but unless you mean to slay him and end up being tried for the crime, that doesn’t answer the problem. He wants your marriage to Lady Isabelle annulled, and has said that if she is returned to him, he will yet allow you to marry his daughter, Lady Evelyn.”

  The face Justin made told Hugh everything that he needed to know about the desirability of marrying Lady Evelyn. “Ah,” he said. “I see. Ugly, is she?”

  “Nay, she is quite beautiful. Extraordinarily beautiful.”

  Hugh looked at him curiously. “But you did not want her?”

  His gaze held upon the fire, Justin shook his head. “Not after I saw Isabelle.”

  “So it wasn’t simply to punish Sir Myles? Or Alexander and me?”

  Justin’s smile tightened with keen unpleasantness. “Oh, yes, it was that, too. I wish you could have seen the look on your face when I told you who I had taken for my bride. Not the wellborn beauty you’d so carefully chosen, but the ignoble daughter of traitors.” He laughed. “’Twas worth all the trouble you put me through in London, I vow. I only wish Alexander could have been here, so that I might have seen his horror, as well. A precious Baldwin wedded to such a one. S’truth, I would have given Talwar away to see his face.”

  “Justin,” the earl of Siere said in a calm voice, “if you’re saying that you married that delightful creature simply to make a jest of her, I am going to beat you senseless. And then I’m going to personally return Lady Isabelle to her uncle.”

  “You may beat me, or attempt to, if you like,” Justin said with equal calm. “I would verily enjoy breaking a few of your bones at just this moment. But you will not take Isabelle anywhere. Not unless you kill me, first.”

  The two men stared at each other before Hugh finally pulled away, walking back to his goblet of wine, which he picked up. “I’m relieved, brother, to know that you’re not quite such a fool as you sounded for a moment. Although how any man who saw Lady Isabelle could be, I don’t understand. She’s stunning enough, by the rood. That hair. And those eyes…” His drifting voice finished the thought. “Hardly the sort of female one would want to get rid of. Which makes me wonder why you’ve not yet made certain of your rights to her.”

  Justin stiffened. “She is my wife,” he said.

  The earl uttered a short laugh. “She is your bride. She is not yet your wife. You are singularly unable to lie, Justin, so please don’t weary yourself with trying to make excuses. I know what it is to be married to the woman you desire above all others, and separate bedchambers aren’t part of such a relationship. But heed me well. Unless you make Lady Isabelle your wife soon, Sir Myles will have every reason he needs to take her back. There is nothing that Alexander or I will be able to do to legally stop him.”

  “You must find a way,” Justin said. “I took Isabelle by force to make her my wife. I will not also force her to share my bed until she is ready to do so.”

  Hugh turned to face him. “Then you chance losing her.”

  Justin’s expression hardened. “I cannot make a woman accept me against her will. When Alicia did not wish to…wed me…I…” He was embarrassed by the pain he heard in his own voice, and fell silent.

  “You let her run, God’s feet,” Hugh finished for him, fingering his goblet consideringly. “It was not well done, I vow. Of either of you.”

  “I am not like you, Hugh. If Isabelle will come to me, it must be of her own accord.”

  “Then for all your brave words, brother, you may lose her. I’m not ashamed to admit that I bedded Rosaleen while I had the chance, before she could think long enough to say me nay. After that she was mine, just as I wanted, and no man could take her from me. If you wish to keep your Isabelle, then I advise you do the same.”

  “I’ll keep Isabelle,” Justin assured him. “Never doubt it. But if you want the matter to be legal, you must be the one to make certain of it. Unless you wish me to kill Sir Myles?”

  “Stubborn lad,” Hugh said wearily. “Nay, I do not want you felling noblemen to keep your good lady. And, as Alexander and I are the ones who decided to meddle in your life, I suppose ‘tis only fair that we do what we can to lend you aid.”

  “Now we are at last in complete agreement.”

  “You needn’t beat me over the head about it. I’ve spent the past month sleeping, eating and breathing guilt. Rosaleen’s made certain of it.”

  “I must thank her, then,” Justin said impassively. “Now that we have an understanding regarding Robert’s ‘important matters,’ I will tell you that Isabelle and I will leave on the morrow. I have been away from Talwar too long, already, and Chris must get back to Briarstone, as well.”

  “I’ll do what I can regarding Sir Myles and the duke—” Hugh began.

  “Nay, you do what you must,” Justin corrected bluntly.

  “Aye, aye, whatever I must, whatever Alexander must. Don’t worry o’er the matter. Only tell me what you want me to say to Sir Myles. He wants to know what you intend.”

  Justin smiled again, baring his teeth this time. “Tell him that I intend to have everything from him that is rightfully Isabelle’s and her brother’s, everything that belonged to their parents, save the lands and titles, for Isabelle must be content with what I can give her in that regard, and Senet must make his own way when the time comes. Tell him that I will have Senet beneath my care before another fortnight has passed, and that he will not interfere in my collecting the boy from Sir Howton, unless he wishes to play quintain for my next bout of jousting practice.”

  “Justin, Justin,” the earl said chidingly. “Such violence.”

  Placing his hands on the back of a chair, Justin leaned forward slightly, his eyes intent on his brother’s face. “Tell Sir Myles that he will not try to contact Isabelle for any reason. I shall keep her well and busy, and if he misses the use of her particular skills, he may bethink himself that I am the one who will rightfully enjoy the benefit of them, i’ faith, of all that Isabelle has to offer. Tell him that I wish him luck in finding a suitable husband for his lovely daughter, Lady Evelyn.”

  The earl made a tsking sound. “’Tis clear that you do not even know what you want with the girl, whether she will be your wife or your revenge.”

  “For now, she is both.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Justin. You will only bring misery down upon your own head. Leave revenge aside. Forgive Alex and me for loving you well enough to meddle where we should not, and forgive Sir Myles for being a greedy fool. If you want happiness for yourself and your good lady, heed me.”

  “You are my brother, Hugh, and for that I owe you love. You are the earl of Siere, and for that I owe you respect. But you are not my liege, and I do not owe you my obedience. Isabelle and I will be happy because I will make it so. As for the other…you need not fear. I’ve no desire to make a feast of revenge. Not a feast, nay. Only a delicacy, which I will enjoy until the moment it begins to make me weary.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Justin.”

  The sound of his name as he left his brother’s working chamber stopped him midstride, and he turned to find Isabelle standing against the wall near the open door, her hands and body pressed against the smooth mortar as if it were her only support. Her face was pale, and her eyes were filled with fear.

  “How long have you been there?” he demanded, turning toward her with more forcefulness than he knew. “How much did you hear?”

  The words were harsh, angry, and he wondered, the moment he heard them coming out of his mouth, what he could mean by speaking them. It was obvious that she was afraid, standing there as if she’d committed some horrible crime, when she could have so easily run away and never told hi
m that she had been there.

  She had stayed to face him, he thought with sudden remorse. She had stayed.

  “Will I be made to return to my uncle?” she whispered. “And Senet?”

  “Nay,” he said, shame making him unable to reach out to her as he wished, to be tender and kind after speaking to her so harshly. “I will not let him take you back. Senet will come to us, just as I promised.”

  “You want me because I can make you rich?” she asked, her widened eyes steadfastly held on his.

  “Nay,” he said again, knowing very well that she had good cause not to believe him.

  “For revenge?”

  His heart began to beat loudly in his ears and he thought, Aye, this is what it will be with us. She must learn to trust me or we will never be content together.

  “You heard what I told my brother,” he said, taking a step nearer to her, “and you know what I told you in Cambridge. I want us to make a good life together, to have children and happiness.”

  Her breath came out in a loud rush; she visibly swallowed, and the small color that had been in her face drained away, until she was as pale as the early dawn.

  “Then I will go with you now and become your wife.”

  He was aware of the sudden silence in Hugh’s working chamber, and reached out to firmly close the door, not caring what his brother thought of being so ceremonially shut inside.

  “Isabelle.” Justin reached a hand toward her, palm up, supplicating. “Will you come with me to the gardens?”

  “Nay,” she whispered, her voice thin and fearful. “Take me to your chamber, please, and make me your wife before it is too late.”

  He took hold of her trembling hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing her fingers lingeringly against his lips in an effort to soothe her. “Do not tempt me beyond reason, I pray.” One hand stroked gently over her covered hair, down to her shoulder. “I dream of you saying these words to me when we are at Talwar, and because you desire to be my wife in every way. But not out of fear, Isabelle. Never out of fear.”

  She searched his eyes. “Speak the truth to me, my lord. I beg it. Do you mean to set me aside, once you have satisfied your revenge upon my uncle? Because if you do—” she grabbed his sleeve when, in shock, he pulled away “—let me at least stay at your estate and be your steward. If you would only bring Senet to me and keep us safe from Sir Myles, I will do anything that you ask. I will make you wealthy. Only do not send us back to my uncle.”

  He had thought that nothing, and no one, could hurt him as badly as Alicia Sherringham had once done. But he’d been wrong. Pushing free of her, Justin staggered back against the opposite wall and stared at Isabelle as if she’d just stuck a dagger in his belly.

  “You think I will not take you to my bed because I mean to set you aside?” he asked. He was tempted, when she nodded, to drag her off to the nearest chamber and demonstrate how fully wrong she was. But why should she think otherwise, when all the world, it seemed, agreed that he was a crazed fool not to have made his claim upon her certain? Isabelle had been betrayed before, by her uncle, who had lied when he said that he would care for her and Senet and then done naught but make them as slaves. And her uncle had been a blood relative, while Justin was nothing better than a stranger.

  Revenge. Justin hadn’t cared about it, hadn’t really thought about it until Hugh mentioned the word. Then his brother’s reaction and his own anger had spurred him on, causing him to make more of the matter than it was. He wanted only to be left in peace, with no more invasions made upon his life and privacy. If he couldn’t make his family, and Sir Myles and the royals, understand that now, then he and Isabelle would never be left to themselves.

  But how could he make her understand that? He had taken her by force, had wed her by force. With her own ears she had heard him foolishly taunting his brother about revenge. He wanted Isabelle to trust him, but she had no good reason to do so.

  “We are wed, and I will never set you aside,” he heard himself saying, though his mind seemed divorced from the words. He was trying to see himself through her eyes, trying to see whether he was as some terrible, violent stranger to her, someone to be feared and appeased, rather than a man who craved her love and trust. “If you are not satisfied with my word, which I give you in honor, then I will take you to my bedchamber now and do as you have asked. I will make you my wife. If you wish to wait until we achieve Talwar, then we will wait. The choice must be yours, Isabelle, for I will not live the rest of my days bearing the guilt of having taken you against your will.”

  She said nothing, but wrapped her hands together tightly and pressed them against her stomach. Her eyes, he saw, were filled with dread, and his heart softened.

  “Are you very afraid of what takes place in the marriage bed?” he asked gently.

  Flushing deeply, she nodded, and whispered, “But I fear my uncle more.”

  He was across the space that parted them and had her in his arms before he even realized he was moving. “Isabelle,” he murmured, holding her tight against himself, feeling her hands clutch at the tunic he wore. “Have I not given you my vow that he will never have you again? We will go to Talwar and make our life there. It is very beautiful, and you will come to love it as much as I.” He kissed her hair, her cheek, where he tasted a salty tear. “And when you are no longer afraid,” he murmured, taking her face in his hands and kissing her mouth, “we will be man and wife, and no one save God will be able to part us.”

  She stiffened when he kissed her more deeply, but she did not pull away, or protest when he touched her with his tongue. He had not kissed her so intimately since the night at the monastary, and when she opened herself to him, he made a murmur of pleasure before reverently taking the sweetness that she offered. A moment passed as she continued to hold herself rigid and tense, and then, as he strove to please her, she gave a tiny “Oh” and, with a sigh, put her arms about his neck.

  He lifted his head, drawing in air. “Is it all right, Isabelle?”

  “Oh,” she said again, dazed. “Aye.”

  Much encouraged, he kissed her again, briefly. “It does not frighten you?”

  Her reply was to pull his head down to hers again, but his lips had barely touched hers when the door to the chamber opened.

  “Ahem,” said the earl of Siere. “Forgive me, I pray, but I fear I have an unbending rule about not allowing such intimate public displays in the castle halls.”

  Smiling at Isabelle, who smiled back, Justin asked, “Except between yourself and Rosaleen, Hugh?”

  “Aye,” Sir Hugh admitted readily. “Just so. But I am lord here, and thus have certain rights. May I suggest,” he added cheerfully, “that you children retire to one of your bedchambers to further explore this sudden interest in each other’s well-being?”

  “I think,” Justin said, “that my wife wishes to walk in the gardens.” Releasing her, stepping back only a small distance, he took her hand and kissed it. “Do you, my lady?”

  “Aye, my lord, I should like it very much.”

  Walking with their heads together, talking and laughing with intimate pleasure, they left the earl of Siere standing alone.

  “Gray hairs,” he said, watching them go. “That’s what I’m getting out of all this. Naught but gray hairs. I hope Alexander’s satisfied. They’re even more trying than Robert.” Which reminded him that he needed the help of his capable steward, so that he might write responses to the missives that still lay in his working chamber, yet unanswered.

  Chapter Eight

  She fell in love with Talwar the moment she set eyes on it. The main dwelling was a small, square keep with a half-timbered manor house added to one side. A short distance away, but within the walled grass bailey, sat several smaller buildings, all seeming to be in good repair. Surrounding the estate was a tall, variously angled wall with four towers that were flying flags bearing what Isabelle thought must be Justin’s coat of arms. Before this lay several acres of crops, neatly laid out
and obviously well cared for, while beyond was a wide, slow-moving river and a thickly wooded forest.

  “Briarstone is beyond the trees some few miles,” Justin said as he rode beside Isabelle. “There is a road through the forest, although you cannot see it from here.”

  “Oh, my lord, it is beautiful. Just as you said it would be.”

  The words clearly pleased him. “It is small and simple, but a comfortable home. I hope that you will find it thus.”

  “I promise that I will,” she assured him. If Sir Christian hadn’t been with them, she would have dared to say more, to tell him what it meant to her, after the confusing, difficult years following her parents’ deaths, to at last have a home of her own again. “It is more than I ever dreamed of having. Thank you, my lord.”

  “Look,” Sir Christian said. “Your students are preparing to greet their new lady in the proper manner.”

  “Kayne will have had my missive two days past,” Justin remarked, lifting himself up in his saddle to see better. “We shall see how well he has remembered his lessons.”

  “Kayne is the eldest?” Isabelle asked as they prodded their horses forward. He had told her about the boys who were in his care. They were all from Briarstone, Sir Christian’s estate, which had been founded many years before by Sir Christian’s brother with the aid of a variety of criminals and whores, all of whom had agreed to labor there without wages in the hope of a better life. These boys were the sons of some of those prostitutes, and Justin had agreed to train them for knighthood. It was a small way in which he could repay Christian for his help and friendship over the past many years, for, as Justin had told Isabelle, “If it had not been for Chris, I would never have had Talwar, for he was the one who helped me to win and rebuild it.”

  “Kayne is the eldest and most capable,” he replied now. “I have set him over the others, and he has the charge of them, indeed of all of Talwar, when I am not here.”