“Then what troubles you?” She was growing more uneasy. His manner, this unfamiliar patience as he explained his situation, lent the feeling of a trap closing in.
“Anything that even minimally jeopardizes the barony is of serious concern for me,” he answered.
“But you said you have no fear you will be usurped,” Alayna protested.
“I have survived long on the lesson of never underestimating the threat of my enemy and to always be prepared for the worst.”
“What has this to do with me?” Alayna asked warily.
Lucien crossed to a table to pour himself a cup of wine. He downed it in one gulp before drawing a breath to explain. “As I said, I have everything that matters in my possession. I have the castle, the villeins and vassals. But most of all, my Lady Gastonbury—” he paused meaningfully “—I have you.”
A stab of fear made itself felt in her stomach. “What do you mean?”
“You are Edgar’s bereaved wife. My suit would be greatly strengthened by an alliance between us.”
His words fell like weights upon her, his voice seeming to come to her from very far away. Alliance? Her mind raced. He could not mean…
Unaware, or uncaring, of her reaction, he continued. “Therefore I have decided on a swift and simple solution to the problem. We will be joined in marriage on the morrow, and thus any claim to Edgar’s properties will revert to me. With such a coalition, no other will stand a chance to wrest the barony from me.”
“Are you quite out of your mind?” Alayna blurted, finding her voice at last. “That is a most ridiculous proposition. If I thought for a moment you were serious—”
“I assure you, madam, I am serious.”
“Pray tell me what advantage such a match brings you?”
“Aside from the obvious joy of being wed to a gracious lady such as yourself?” he chided, the dark humor dancing dangerously in his eyes. “It should be clear that you are very valuable, indeed. Since Edgar had no issue, you as his widow would have inherited his properties.”
Realizing what he was saying, she spoke softly, absently, as if to herself. “So I am the true heiress of Edgar’s properties? How is it that it never occurred to me before?”
Lucien’s brows drew down. “Because it would be absurd. You would have to defeat me in battle to enforce it, and I very much doubt you could.” A cold smile crept over his face. “Unless you wish to challenge me handto-hand to decide the matter.”
Missing his meaning, she snapped, “Not likely.” At his broadened smile, she colored as she realized he was alluding to an intimate sort of encounter. “You are mad to suggest it!”
“So you have told me.”
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head in denial. ‘I’ll not agree.” Her lip curled in contempt. “Perhaps you have not been paying attention, de Montregnier. I despise you, I loathe the very thought of you, and live for the day when I can finally be free of your odious presence. To be joined with you as your wife would be the most horrible fate I could imagine.”
“I have no illusions about your feelings,” he said, and shrugged. “They simply are not important. The future of one of the largest shires in England is at stake. Marriage is for profit, despite any silly woman’s ideas you no doubt entertain. Or perhaps not, for your first marriage promised great reward, did it not?”
“I told you, ’twas not my choice to marry Edgar. I was as opposed to him as I am to you,” Alayna answered.
“’Tis of no matter. This is a game of serious consequence, and I intend to win. As your protectorate, I make the choice of your marriage, and so I choose myself. You can do nothing but obey.”
“I will not,” Alayna exclaimed, “I will never speak my vows! I will rebuke you at the altar! I will—”
Lucien was surprised at how much her resistance angered him. He had spoken truthfully. He had had no illusions that she would be well-disposed to the idea, yet he felt a welling of unwanted irritation in the face of her vehement refusal.
He spoke softly, enunciating each word. “You will obey.”
“Nothing—nothing!—could make me agree. I would sooner be wed to a jackal!” she yelled.
The bite of her words brought an unexpected rush of something unpleasant, something suspiciously close to pain, that made him vicious. “You will obey. There is too much at stake here. You will agree or I will beat you myself and hold you in the dungeon,” he roared. His rage was ruling him, something he had promised himself he would not allow to happen.
“Beat me then, you vicious lout!” she cried bravely, but his threat had put a fear in her, he could see it in her wary expression. Damn her, with that hurt look. He felt a pang of conscience, which only served to annoy him further.
To her credit, she was not daunted by his bullying tactics. With that annoying tilt of her chin, she uttered, “I’ll never marry you.”
She was maddening! Lucien stepped forward and took hold of her arm, pulling her to him with a hard yank.
“Aye, demoiselle, the morn will see you my wife,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “And with our union, there will be none who can protest me as rightful Lord of Gastonbury.” With a small shove, he released her. “See that you are ready when the time comes.”
Alayna whirled and ran out of the room, leaving the portal open behind her. Lucien watched her flee, raking his hand through his hair in exasperation. What the hell had he done?
His head snapped up as Agravar stepped into the room.
“Well, is she agreed?”
Lord, Lucien groaned inwardly, how had Agravar missed overhearing that debacle? Surely their voices had reached clear down to the great hall.
“Did you speak to her gently? Did you explain the situation?”
“I acted like an ass!” Lucien shouted. Again the hand swept through his hair. “Why does that woman drive me to such distraction? I vow when I get within eyesight, my very mind deserts me. All she has to do is tilt that chin up and look at me with that contemptuous defiance she wears so well and all my good intentions are lost.”
Agravar frowned, concern creasing his brow. “She did consent?”
“’Tis no matter, the deed will be done as planned. This union is too vital to be stayed by a girl’s hurt pride. The important thing is that I keep what I have won.”
Lucien’s casual reply was belied by his restless pacing. Finally, in frustration, he slammed his fist into a washstand, splintering the wood.
“Did that help?” Agravar commented wryly. Lucien cast him a forbidding look. “Perhaps you should rethink this, Lucien. Whoever this other man is who claims Gastonbury may not pose any serious threat at all. You might not need the widow.”
Lucien shook his head with determination. “Nay. We do not know for certain who has appealed to Henry, but it is in all likelihood Garrick. His suit may be judged to have merit, for he did indeed hold Edgar’s trust and friendship. If he can find some way to discredit me, I am done. I did not come this far to lose now. I will do what I must.”
“Consider what you are committing yourself to,” Agravar warned gently.
“She will reconcile herself to the situation,” Lucien growled. “I will marry the little hellcat and pay the price for it, too! God help me if I win Gastonbury at such a cost.”
To Lucien’s utter amazement, Agravar seemed to be suppressing a smile, and doing a bad job of it at that. “It is ironic that Pelly’s mission to deliver Alayna’s missive to her mother brings us news of another claiming your spoils. Otherwise, we would have had no warning. The lady already brings you luck, friend.”
Lucien scowled, knowing that he was being needled. “She has been a thorn in my side since we arrived.”
“Then why did you insist on keeping her here?”
“Because I knew that she might prove useful, you dolt! Now stop badgering me, I have had enough of it from my previous guest!”
To Lucien’s great annoyance, Agravar roared with laughter. “All right, old friend, I’ll be off.”
The Viking made for the door, then paused. “What did she say at getting the message returned? Strange, I thought the news would have eased her.” At Lucien’s look, Agravar shook his head in disbelief. “Do not say that you neglected to tell her!”
“I was distracted,” Lucien said irritably.
“Distracted?” Agravar said. “I should say. Had you but mentioned the letter from Veronica, your lady may well have been much softened toward you.”
“It does not matter.”
“Strange you would forget.”
“This chit tries me as no other,” Lucien complained.
Again the oversize warrior laughed, tossing back his blond head with a hearty bellow. “She bests you in this brief time in a way my father could not in eleven years. For all of his brutal treatment, he could never break you.
Yet, this girl has you tangled up. You had better take care—once wed, there is no telling what she can do.”
Lucien’s miserable mood must have shown on his face. Agravar sobered, offering, “Let me take the missive to your bride, and put her mind to rest on that matter. It may go easier for her on the morrow knowing its contents. Unless you do not wish for her to see it. Do you fear her mother?”
Glaring at his friend for a moment, Lucien was about to make some scathing comment, then thought better of it. “Nay, I will give it to her myself. There is little her dame can do, for by the time she arrives, her precious daughter will be wedded and bedded.”
He brushed past his friend, too annoyed to notice his self-satisfied grin. Stalking through the corridors like a demon, he came to Alayna’s door and pounded boldly. It galled him to have to wait, hard put to restrain himself from flinging the damnable thing open.
When Alayna answered, eyes red and swollen from her angry tears, and saw Lucien standing there, she almost slammed the portal shut again. Quickly he held out a slip of parchment to her.
“Pelly brought this for you,” he said simply, and turned on his heel.
Confused, Alayna held the scroll and stared at the broad back of her enemy as he stomped away. Her mind flew over several suitable retorts, but she did not have the energy to vent them. With a resigned sigh, she opened the letter.
She glanced over the words, then stopped and reread the message more slowly. Their astonishing meaning flooded through her in a wave of exhilaration.
Her mother. It was from her mother!
She looked up, thinking momentarily to follow Lucien, but stopped. He was gone.
It was incredible. He had sent her letter, after all. And now she knew that her mother was set to accompany the king’s justiciar when he traveled to Gastonbury, for Henry had forbidden her to come until the matter was settled legally. Veronica assured Alayna, in her inimical style, she would deal with the matter of her daughter’s “detainment” as soon as she arrived.
But the missive read that Henry’s man was set to arrive in June—two months’ time! Far too long to wait. The morning would see her wed to de Montregnier!
Yet, somehow, that thought did not raise her hackles as it had only moments ago. He had sent Pelly to London with her message. Why did that simple fact make so much difference?
Just when she was prepared to condemn him for the most hateful, unfeeling man in Christendom, he did something like this. Showing…what? Did it mean he did have some consideration for her feelings? That flew in the face of virtually all other facts. Still, there was that time in the armory. He had been so different then. Vulnerable. Perhaps he did have a feeling side after all. And maybe he was not so immune to her as he would have her think.
Then again, it was much more likely that it served some purpose of his to have her believe so. He was cunning enough to know that the hope of her mother’s intervention would give him the leverage he needed to gain her cooperation.
Fingering the crisp texture of the parchment, Alayna smiled to herself. De Montregnier thought himself invincible. But he had no idea of the position of influence her family held. Veronica was a wealthy and powerful widow, fierce as a lioness when it came to her daughter.
De Montregnier wished for a political alliance and so he should have it. But only for a time. It could all be undone quickly enough when her mother arrived. Two months. Not so long a time, really.
It would be an in-name-only arrangement, easy to annul—de Montregnier hated her almost as much as she did him. Let him think he had won. It would make her ultimate victory that much more sweet.
Chapter Ten
The morn of Alayna’s second wedding day dawned clear and bright. She woke early and lingered in her room until a page came to tell her the ceremony was set for late afternoon.
Eurice was strangely tight-lipped about the whole matter as she helped Alayna dress in a simply cut gown of rich cream and wound her thick tresses in a knot so the veil could be affixed. Throughout this ritual, Alayna sat calmly, hoarding her secret hope of freedom and vindication like a shroud of comfort.
The chapel had been restored to its former purpose and Lucien waited for her beside the priest, some nameless friar who had broken ranks with the angry bishop. One glance at her groom, scowling his deepest frown and looking as if it were he who was being forced into this, and Alayna felt a surge of fear threaten to break her peace. But she dutifully spoke her vows in a voice that was clear and strong with a confidence she did not feel.
When they were pronounced man and wife, her new husband bestowed only the briefest of kisses upon her cheek, but the warmth of his lips touching her for even that fleeting moment sent a tremor through her body. Then, without preamble, he stalked off, leaving her standing awkwardly until Will came to her and offered his arm.
“Congratulations,” he said tightly. Alayna tried to smile back, but the effort failed. Seeing she had been abandoned by her groom, Will led her into the hall where people stood about and stared at her, all seeming to be as dismayed by this sudden turn of events as she was herself. He stiffly excused himself, leaving her alone.
Damn de Montregnier, she fumed silently, directing a glare at him where he stood, busy with his knights and pointedly ignoring her. His rudeness should not amaze her, but it inevitably did. Did he not notice her standing alone with curious eyes crawling over her in hungry speculation?
It was going to be a long two months.
Off in a corner, a young servant girl stood, her gaze trained unwaveringly on Alayna. She did not flinch when Alayna noticed her, nor did she change the malevolent look in her dark eyes.
Crossing to where Eurice stood waiting for her, Alayna asked, “Who is that girl?”
“Which one?”
“Over…” Alayna paused, looking about the hall. The girl was gone.
“She was just there a moment ago. She glared at me with a terrible hatred. I never saw her before. I wonder who she was.”
Eurice looked uncomfortable. “If you see her again, tell Lord Lucien. There would be some here who would be jealous of your good fortune and wish you harm.”
Alayna almost choked. “Good fortune?”
“You are feeling sorry for yourself again.”
“And have I no right to?” Alayna exclaimed.
“Alayna, I know you dislike him, but he has not been unkind to you.”
“Even though he insults me and orders me about like a servant.”
Eurice chuckled, patting Alayna’s arm in a light reprimand. “It seems you have done your share of insulting.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I only say that his worst crime has been to be disagreeable.”
“And forcing me to marry him, what of that?”
Eurice nodded. “Aye, but how different is it than if the marriage were arranged by your father? Looking to gain from the union is no crime. If it were, all husbands would be dangling from the gibbet.”
“Not a bad idea, that,” Alayna muttered.
With a wave of her hand, Eurice surrendered, retreating into the kitchens.
Alayna puzzled over Eurice’s defense of Lucien. Without the f
amiliar comfort of her nurse, she felt more alienated than ever.
“May I offer my congratulations?” a voice said, making her start. She looked up to find Agravar standing before her, offering a slight bow.
“Oh, you surprised me.”
“You look lost in thought,” he commented.
Alayna no longer dreaded the imposing man. She sighed, “Congratulations are reserved for happy events, sir. Your good wishes make me feel the hypocrite.”
He gave her a long look. “I know this marriage was not to your liking, but you will find Lucien an honorable husband.”
“I can hardly imagine why he would be honorable to me as a husband when he had not been so thus far.”
“You must understand that Lucien has waited a long time for his vengeance,” Agravar explained, leading her to the head table and taking the seat next to hers, “and I suppose his methods seem rather extreme. But believe me, if you knew what he had to endure, you would not think so badly of him.”
“I just wish that it all had nothing to do with me,” Alayna lamented. She gave him a thoughtful look. “How is it you and Lucien came to be friends? You are not alike at all.”
“The circumstances of our friendship were rather unique. But suffice to say we found that we had some things in common and in many ways, my lady, we are alike. I know he seems harsh, prideful and even stubborn at times, but Lucien has strength of character I very much admire. He survived conditions that would have reduced other men, perhaps even myself, to mindless shells.”
“What was it that so tried him?” she asked. She watched Agravar hesitate, then smile.
“Lucien’s tale is his to tell.”
Though his words put her off, his tone was gentle enough not to dissuade her. “In the armory, he confessed he was taken by Edgar’s men and sent away. How is it he is able to return, and with wealth enough to fund such a well-trained army?”
Rising, Agravar gave her a winning grin. She thought at first he was not going to answer her, but then he leaned down toward her and said softly, “He killed my father and stole his treasure.”
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