Susan Spencer Paul

by The Bride Thief

  Isabelle nodded. “I missed my brother badly after he was gone. We have not seen much of each other these past many years. After my father’s trial, Sir Howton meant to give Senet over to my uncle, for he did not wish to succor the son of a traitor, but Sir Myles asked him to keep Senet as a servant, to labor there and earn his living.”

  “To labor?” Justin repeated with a frown. “He has not been indentured, I pray.”

  “I do not think so. Does it make a difference?”

  “I cannot like it if, after being trained for knighthood so many years, he was suddenly made into a servant. Nay, I cannot like it. It is not fitting for a young man who has started in the way of knighthood to be so taken away from it. And made into a servant, by the rood! Sir Howton should feel naught but shame for enacting such a crime.”

  “Does it matter so much?” she asked worriedly. “He need not be a knight. If he could only live here, in peace, as you promised—”

  “He will yet require proper training,” Justin insisted. “Whether he achieves knighthood is only his concern, but any man who wishes to make his own way, with some measure of respect, must be trained in war and chivalry. It is the way of things.”

  “I suppose this is the truth,” she admitted, wondering if this was the time for them to speak of the journey he meant to take. But she was curious now, having spoken of her own past, and asked him the same question that he had asked of her.

  “What was your childhood like, my lord?”

  He hesitated, so long that she thought he might not answer, but at last he began to speak, slowly and without emotion.

  “It was very hard. A matter of survival, more than anything else. My mother died when I was but a lad, almost too young to remember her. Everyone else in the household was at war with one another. My father was a violent man. A tyrant, and evil in his way. I remember most that he hated my younger sister, Candis, and blamed her for my mother’s death. From my earliest days, I knew that if I did not protect her, he would kill her.”

  Isabelle rolled over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her forearms and gazing up into his stony face.

  “Oh, Justin…”

  “My eldest brother, Alexander, was the next object of my father’s wrath, never able to please him, no matter what he did. With my other brother, Willem, it was much the same. Only the twins—Hugh and Hugo—managed to escape his wrath, and they were given free rein. You would not know it to see them now, but in their youth, Hugh and Hugo were as wild as untamed animals, and just as dangerous.” He clenched one fist at the memory. “Living in Castle Gyer was as living in a battle, every day, trying to avoid my father, trying to avoid Hugh and Hugo. Fortunately, Candis and I were not given much care or thought, beyond being fed and clothed. We learned to live in the shadows, to move silently, to listen for our father’s anger and to keep away. Days, sometimes weeks, would pass before Alexander or Willem would so much as say a word to either of us, even after my father had died and Alexander became lord. It. was harder to avoid Hugh and Hugo and their wretched plots.”

  “They were cruel to you?”

  “Not purposefully so. But they were wild, and carried their wildness with them everywhere. There were always snakes and spiders, fires and poisons and sharp objects. They were poor companions for young children, especially for Candis, who only had me to guard her. But, for all the harm and destruction they wrought at Gyer, Hugh and Hugo seemed to feel some affection for us. Once, I caught one of our tutors fondling Candis in a lewd and unseemly manner, and although she cried, he would not let her go. I tried to make him, but he was drunk and struck me a hard blow, throwing me out of his chamber. I ran for Hugh and Hugo, and they came at once, threatening the man through his chamber door until he let Candis come out.

  She was unharmed, but very frightened, and he asked forgiveness, begging us not to tell Alexander or anyone, and promised that he’d never touch her again. I do not know what Hugh and Hugo did to him, but something happened during the night, for in the morn the man was babbling with madness, screaming about a visitation he’d had. Alexander had to send him to an asylum, and a week later, or so we heard, he threw himself from a tower and died. The twins celebrated by hiding beef bones behind the tapestries in the great hall and letting all of Gyer’s hunting dogs loose in there.” He let out a breath. “What a spectacle. Alexander turned so red I thought he’d burst.”

  She didn’t smile, understanding the sadness the memory gave him. It should have been humorous—all those dogs, racing about, wreaking havoc, in such a refined setting— but she knew that he would never see it the way others might. He would only remember the fear he’d lived with every day and night during those days, even in such moments as that.

  Reaching out, she pressed her fingers gently over his fisted hand, rubbing to take his tension away.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, echoing the sympathy he’d earlier offered her.

  He gazed at her, and when he spoke, his voice was more even, shorn of its sadness. “It was not forever thus. A few years later, Hugh and Hugo stole some travelers as they journeyed through Gyer, and locked them away as prisoners in the castle before Alexander could find out. One of them, by fortunate incidence, was Lady Lillis, the daughter of my brother’s greatest enemy, Jaward of Wellewyn. Alexander decided to keep her and her nurse, Edyth, who had been traveling with her, and later he and Lillis were married.”

  “Lady Rosaleen warned me that I was not the only bride to be stolen by a Baldwin,” Isabelle said.

  Justin grinned. “It does seem to have become a family tradition,” he admitted. “But a happy one. Lillis and Edyth changed everything for Candis and me, and for everyone at Castle Gyer. They were our salvation, and loved and cared for us tenderly. We were safe then.”

  “May God be praised,” she murmured.

  His fist uncurled, and he caught her hand, holding it “And Alexander and Lillis have been content and happy in their marriage. Just as I hope that we shall be, Isabelle. I should be ashamed at having stolen you, but I am not. In truth, I become gladder of it every day.”

  “I, also,” she said. “Although I cannot think why you went to so much trouble, when any woman would have gladly gone away with you, if you had but asked.”

  His gaze grew intent, and he pushed her to her back, leaning over and searching her eyes. “Would you have, Isabelle? If I had come to your chamber in the dark of night and said, ‘Lady, I am seeking a wife. Will you come away with me and be my bride?’ would you have come?”

  “I would have wanted to.”

  “But would you?”

  She had to think on the answer before she could reply, honestly, “I would have been afraid, I suppose, to go with a man I hardly knew. I was afraid of you until we reached the monastery. But in my heart, I would have longed to say yes.” With a hand about his neck, she persuaded him closer, and kissed him. “I am glad you did not ask me, and saved me from being very foolish.”

  The answer pleased him, for he slid his hands beneath her, bringing their bodies together, and said, “I shall remember that in future, my good lady wife, whenever you are being difficult.”

  “You will steal me again, my lord?”

  “Oh, aye, beloved. Again and again and again.”

  But it wouldn’t be necessary, she thought now, as she moved to press one hand against the sun-warmed windowpane. Just as it hadn’t been necessary that night. She had given him, and would give him, anything he asked for, anything he desired. She loved him, and would never be able to deny him.

  A movement in the distant hills caught her attention, something tall and dark, although the thickness of the glass pane made it difficult to tell exactly what. It was moving resolutely toward Talwar at a steady pace. Was it a man on horseback? she wondered, her heart lurching. Could it be Justin, returning already? Another figure appeared beside it. Men on horseback, she was certain. And another figure, and another.

  “It must be Justin,” she murmured with growing excitement. But
the next moment it seemed as if an entire wave of figures flooded over the hill. Hundreds of men on horseback. And all of them heading for Talwar.

  Isabelle stood paralyzed, staring at the relentlessly approaching army, unable to comprehend who they were, or why they had come. The size and scope of them was frightening. Overwhelming. It seemed as if Talwar would be swallowed up by a never-ending sea of men.

  “’My lady!” The chamber door banged open, and one of the men Sir Christian had sent to guard Talwar in Justin’s absence stood there, gasping. “Sir Alexander Baldwin, the lord of Gyer, is approaching. It looks as if he’s brought his whole army, God save us!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sir Alexander Baldwin was just as imposing in person as Isabelle had always thought he would be, the kind of man whose inherent nobility was a thing that was seen, as well as known. He was a handsome man, tall and dark-haired; like Justin, but with eyes the color of new green leaves, rather than the dark, earthy brown that his younger brother possessed. He didn’t have the same width of shoulders or the great muscle that Justin did, but for all that, he gave the impression of strength and danger. The way he stared down his long, aquiline nose at Isabelle made her knees shake beneath her skirts.

  She met him outside in the inner bailey—after having spent one full, terrified minute in her working chamber, trying to decide whether she ought to instead find some place to hide—with the belated realization, after he’d already ridden through the gates, that she wasn’t properly attired to greet a personage of the lord of Gyer’s eminence. He was one of the most powerful, and certainly one of the wealthiest, barons in England, and probably not used to being greeted by a woman whose hair wasn’t properly arranged or covered, and who was wearing nothing better than the plainest working clothes.

  He left the bulk of his massive army outside the gates and, accompanied only by two other men on horseback, rode to where Isabelle stood.

  “My lord, Sir Alexander,” she began, bending into a deep curtsy. “I welcome you to—”

  “Where is my brother, Sir Justin Baldwin?”

  The curt demand stunned Isabelle, so that she did no more than gape at him until he added, “Speak, woman!”

  “He’s…he’s not here,” she managed, swallowing down the fear she heard in her voice. “We did not know that you were coming to Talwar, my lord.”

  The expression on the Lord of Gyer’s face grew so forbidding that Isabelle nearly turned about and took flight.

  Sir Alexander’s horse pranced daintily beneath his commanding grip as he brought the massive steed nearer. “Where has he gone?”

  His tone was accusatory, fully condemning, and Isabelle instinctively raised a hand to her throat.

  “Into Wales, my lord. To Sir Howton’s estate.”

  The lord of Gyer’s jaw tightened for the briefest of moments, hardly enough warning for the explosion of curses that followed. By the time he was done, Isabelle felt as if she’d been scorched by Hell’s own fires.

  “And you, I suppose,” he said with tight anger, fixing her with that disturbing green-eyed gaze, “are the woman he stole. Isabelle Gaillard?”

  Isabelle cleared her throat. “Isabelle Baldwin,” she corrected.

  The lord of Gyer made the same sort of breathy huffing sound that an angry bull might. The only thing he lacked to make the picture complete, Isabelle thought, was a puff of dust coming out of his nostrils.

  “We shall see,” he stated.

  He dismounted and handed the reins of his steed to one of his men. “Wait for me here,” he instructed, then said to the other, “Tell Sir Alain to set camp outside the walls. We will bide at Talwar this night.” To Isabelle he said, “Come. We will speak inside,” and strode past her into the dwelling, without waiting for an invitation. Isabelle, feeling as if she were a naughty child, followed.

  Gytha, Meg and Odelyn were lined up beyond the door, already bowing as the lord of Gyer walked in.

  “Thank you,” he said in reply to their murmured welcomes, then, as if he were their master, added, “Bring wine to the working chamber. I will speak with Lady Isabelle there.”

  The three women lifted their heads as the man walked away, meeting Isabelle’s wide-eyed gaze with open sympathy.

  Isabelle leaned toward Gytha as she followed Sir Alexander, whispering quickly, “The best wine.”

  Gytha nodded, and Isabelle, steeling herself, walked into the chamber.

  Sir Alexander closed the door behind her.

  “There is no need for us to exchange false courtesies, Lady Isabelle,” he said without delay. “I will tell you plainly that I am displeased with my brother’s choice in a wife, especially when I had already approved another, far more suitable, bride for him. You are the daughter of a traitor, and I will never be able to forget that. Howbeit, I cannot force my brother to set you aside if he does not wish to do so. You, however, might be persuaded to leave him, if given the appropriate incentive. Am I right in this?”

  Bewildered, Isabelle shook her head. “What can you mean, my lord?”

  “I mean, Isabelle Gaillard, that I don’t believe my brother took you against your will. I mean that I believe you tempted him away from his rightful betrothed, Lady Evelyn, and schemed to wed a Baldwin in order to gain whatever power and wealth such a union might bring you. But you have not done so wisely, my lady, for you have not counted on me. I can make your life exceedingly unpleasant if you refuse to meet me in this matter of obtaining an annulment and setting my brother free. I am willing to be more than generous, of course. You will be provided with a small estate that you will own outright, and there will be a suitable allowance for both your brother and yourself that will continue for the remainder of your lives.”

  “What?” she sputtered in disbelief. “Surely you can’t… Surely you don’t mean what you say.”

  His expression remained impassive. “Are you with child, then? That makes the matter a little more difficult, but not impossible. I shall provide for the child, as well.”

  Oh, her temper, Isabelle thought remorsefully, even as the fury within her began to build. Her unfortunate, wretched temper. She very nearly told him that he could take himself off to Hades, but with an effort, she recalled that there were better ways to handle such men. She’d learned that well enough during all her financial dealings with the obstinate, insulting creatures, of whom he had been the worst.

  “I am not with child,” she replied, striving to unclench her fisted hands. “And I will not leave my husband. You insult both of us with such false accusations and unholy offers.”

  A gleam of unexpected appreciation filled the lord of Gyer’s eyes. “You mean to make the best bargain possible,” he said. “I can admire such a quality in a woman. Very well. I shall provide you with a household of well-trained servants, also with a sufficient number of field and livestock laborers.” He thought a moment longer, adding, “And fifty head of fine cattle from my own herds. You must be responsible for all other livestock.”

  “I don’t want livestock,” she told him furiously. “I don’t want any of it! I am no foul conspirator, such as you believe. Your brother stole me of his own determination. I had naught to do with it!”

  The lord of Gyer sighed. “Very well. I shall provide a full complement of livestock, including fowl. I’ll even supply a stock of fish, if you arrange to have a suitable pond dug.”

  “Are you deaf?” she demanded. “Can you not hear me when I say that I want nothing from you?”

  “God’s feet, but you’re a demanding wench,” he replied. “I’ll go so far as to start your stable with six fine horses, but that is all. If you do not accept the bargain now as final, I will withdraw it and find another, much less pleasant way of removing you from my brother’s house. This is no idle threat, my lady. I have the means to get rid of you, and I will use those means if I must. Do you agree to accept my offer in exchange for annulling your marriage to Justin?”

  A strange sensation gripped Isabelle, a dizzying f
eeling, as if rage were pumping through her veins, rather than blood, rushing and throbbing and swelling, so that she began to wonder if her buzzing head was about to explode. She cast about her working chamber for something to throw at the man. Something that would smash his thick skull in.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  Her skirts whirled as she stopped her search to face him; her chest heaved with the effort to speak, and her voice, when she did speak, sounded foreign, as hot and evil as if she were breathing demon fire at Sir Alexander, rather than making words. The words themselves came out in spurts, between harsh, shaking breaths.

  “I wouldn’t—agree to anything—that you proposed— for all the riches on earth! Not even—for all the Italian silk—in the Fair Helen’s hold!” Breathing hard, she gave him a moment to comprehend her words. “Not that you— could offer me that—unless your exalted means—include raising ships from the depths of the oceans!”

  Sir Alexander blinked at her as Isabelle stood across the room, striving to calm herself. A knock fell on the door, and Gytha entered bearing a tray with a wine decanter and two goblets. Observing the tension, the older woman quickly put the tray on the working table and left. The moment the door closed, Sir Alexander spoke.

  “How did you know of the Fair Helen? It cannot be that your uncle discussed his financial undertakings with you.”

  She laughed scornfully, her voice fully controlled now. “And to think that I once felt sorry for you because you refused to take my advice on that final venture. I told you the Fair Helen wasn’t seaworthy for another journey so soon. I told you she needed repairs. But nay, you’d not pay heed. You believed that drunken lout you’d hired to inspect the ship, rather than me, with whom you’d already completed three successful undertakings!” She threw the last sentence at him angrily, remembering just how upset she’d been when she received his missive saying that he was going ahead with the journey, with or without Sir Myles’s financial participation.

  “But I’m glad now that you ignored my warnings. You’re a haughty, unfeeling, miserable, wretched cur, and I can scarce believe you’re even related to Justin, who has never failed to be all that is good and kind, even when he was in the midst of stealing me!” She stalked closer, lifting on her toes to shout into his face. “And despite being stolen and persuaded into such an unusual marriage, the only thing I regret about being wed to Justin is that I must now also be related to you!” This last word she punctuated with a one-fingered poke at his muscle-hardened chest, which, she realized belatedly, hurt her a good deal more than it did him.