Song of the Heart (Medieval Runaway Wives Book 1)

by Alexa Aston

  Madeleine was on her knees next to the lumpy bed, her fingers laced together, her head bowed. She was giving God a dressing down, with a few apologies thrown in for good measure. A single shaft of sunlight fell upon her, radiating a halo around her head. His desperate, runaway angel.

  “Oh, Sweet Christ, I cannot say any more Hail Mary’s! I’m so tired and lonely and frustrated. I want only to serve You—but I cannot stop thinking of Garrett.”

  She sighed, biting her lower lip. “I know I must never see him again, my Dear Lord, for I know marriage vows are sacred. I am so very sorry, indeed. I just want to go home now and see ma mere et mon pere. I miss them so much. I promise to go to the convent if You’ll only grant me a few days of peace with them.”

  She crossed herself once and then again. “In Your Name, oh Holy Christ, I offer these prayers. Amen.”

  Without opening her eyes, she flung herself against the tattered quilt. Once again, her sobs were silent. Somehow, Garrett felt these noiseless tears were a key connected to her past.

  He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

  She banged her fists against the bed several times and then croaked out, “Oh, Garrett, I miss you so.”

  “Then why did you run away?” he asked softly.

  Her head snapped up, her face tearstained, her eyes swollen from crying. She began to violently tremble. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head back and forth. “It can’t be.” She rose unsteadily to her feet. “I . . . I don’t want to see you,” she said stubbornly, her chin rising a notch.

  Her words crushed him but he stood straight as a Montayne would. For a long moment, he gazed at her steadily without speaking.

  She ran her tongue over her bottom lip nervously. “You must leave, Garrett,” she demanded.

  He could see her pulse fluttering wildly against her slender, white throat. He took a step toward her and she shrank back. “You take my declaration of love for you and throw it back in my face? Without a word, you forsake both me and Lyssa. Did you think she and I would simply pick up our lives where we left off?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked, spilling them down her cheeks.

  “I thought my heart could not be broken twice in this lifetime but you proved me wrong. You broke it again, Madeleine. I cannot imagine what your thoughtlessness will do to my child.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration with her growing. In agony, he told her, “You abandoned us. Just like Lynnette.”

  *

  His words were stronger than any blow Henri had ever dealt her, for Henri had only hurt her physically. Garrett’s words pierced her soul.

  She felt the waves of anger that emanated from him. His words were meant to hurt her—and they had. He compared her actions to Lynnette’s. She couldn’t let him think he was unloved. What Lynnette had done had almost destroyed his soul. In the end, Madeleine would still have to leave him, but she must let him know she loved him and trusted in him.

  She prayed God would give her the strength and courage to do what she must do.

  She stared at him, his eyes blazing, his mouth set so firmly, and her face crumpled. Oh, God, she loved him so much.

  She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his massive chest. Madeleine clutched him desperately. Finally, he placed his arms around her and held her to him. Tremors rippled through her body as she clung to him. He bent and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

  “Oh, Madeleine.” Garrett sighed and drew her even closer. He brushed his lips against her hair over and over. She closed her eyes and wished they could remain this way forever.

  He lifted her chin with a finger and met her gaze. “We must talk.”

  She nodded and swallowed hard. He led her to the single bed and sat, pulling her down next to him.

  He took her hand in his. “Where did you find the necklace you pawned?”

  Shocked at the question she’d least expected, she asked, “Necklace?”

  He reached into his purse and dangled it before her.

  “So that’s how you found me,” she muttered. Her eyes opened wide as she realized the meaning of his words. “You still believe me a thief!”

  She jerked her hand from his, her pride wounded by his words. “That’s what you mean by my ‘finding’ it. You mean where did I steal it, my lord? Well, I didn’t!” Her chin went up and she glared at him.

  “I’m not saying you stole it.”

  “It was a gift to me,” she answered reluctantly, knowing God had finally given her the way to tell her sordid tale.

  “From whom?” His eyes darkened.

  She could see doubt mingled with love in his eyes. Did he think she was some merchant’s bought woman? A married man’s mistress?

  Madeleine shook her head adamantly. Mayhap it wasn’t wise to tell Garrett about Henri in his present mood, not without knowing where his thoughts were headed.

  “That I will not say. But have no doubts, the necklace was mine to sell. Why all these questions?”

  “Because I had this necklace made especially for my wife. Lynnette wore it always. I’m sure she had it on when she left Stanbury.”

  “No,” Madeleine gasped. “It couldn’t be.”

  “I’m afraid so.” He lifted the clasp. “This alone would be enough to convince me. See, the lion engraved here with a sword in his paw. My banner is exactly the same. The stones, too, are identical to the color I had made up. There’s no doubt this is my wife’s necklace.”

  Madeleine stood. She had to face the inevitable. He would learn of Henri now. In her heart she knew that her love for Garrett demanded she tell the truth.

  “I know where the piece was purchased for me. That may be the first clue in Lynnette’s disappearance.” She stood quickly, determined to put an end to her charade. “Come, Garrett. I know Ebony must be nearby. We go to The Open Locket. I don’t know exactly where the shop is located, though I do remember a heart-shaped locket graces the doorway. This should be enough for us to find it.”

  *

  Garrett took Madeleine’s hand and threaded his way through the crowd, moving down the street to where Ebony awaited. The weak sunshine threatened to break through the cloud cover at any moment. He tossed a coin to the lad that had kept watch of his horse and then placed Madeleine in the saddle. She stroked Ebony’s mane fondly. Garrett climbed behind her and she tensed as he put his arm about her waist.

  “No, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. “Please. Do not reject me.”

  She turned and met his eyes. “Oh, Garrett. How can you forgive me? There’s still so much you don’t know.”

  He brushed his lips gently across her mouth, blocking out the world for a short moment.

  As they made their way across London, he asked, “How’s your mother doing?”

  She flushed a deep pink. “So Coster told, did he? I didn’t think he’d stay quiet forever but I gave him more credit than I should have. He broke much too fast.”

  She looked up at him with sudden concern. “You weren’t too hard on him, I hope. He really is a decent sort.”

  “I will deal with Coster when we return to Stanbury. By the way, where’s my horse?”

  She gave him a sheepish glance. “Sold,” she squeaked out. “I asked for a poor nag, Garrett. Not one up to your usual standards. The brooch I left was worth far more than the horse.”

  “Where does your jewelry come from, Madeleine? I thought I’d confiscated it all.”

  “Oh, really?” she replied frostily, but she refused to answer him when he pressed her.

  They rode Ebony in silence after that, stopping thrice to ask directions. Eventually, they located the shop. The balding jeweler there was delighted to see customers.

  “No one’s buying or selling these days with the typhus around,” he confided to them. “I’m glad to have your company. Come, tell me what I may show you. Perhaps a ring for the lovely maid?”

  Garrett said, “We’d like to inquire about a
necklace purchased here some time ago.”

  “About two and a half years,” Madeleine added.

  The shopkeeper frowned. “That’s a long time to remember a certain piece.”

  “Here,” Garrett said, placing the necklace on the counter.

  The man smiled immediately, his yellowed teeth glowing as much as his eyes. “Of course. The lion clasp. I remember how unusual I thought it was at the time.” He picked up the necklace and studied it carefully. “Yes,” he confirmed, “I know this piece.”

  “Do you have any knowledge of who might have come in to sell it? A man? A woman?” Garrett glanced at Madeleine as he asked, “Or do you remember who bought it?”

  She flinched at his words. “I don’t remember who purchased it my lord but I do recall the seller.” The jeweler fingered the clasp as he spoke. “I thought it strange that one such as he would have access to a piece so fine and unusual but he said he was selling it for his mistress who was in great need.”

  “Can you describe him?” Garrett pressed.

  “Oh, easily, my lord. The man had only one eye. Wore a patch over the other. He had sandy red hair and a reddish beard. I remember him quite well.”

  Garrett grew pale at the description. He gripped the counter for support.

  “Garrett?” Madeleine took hold of his forearm. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “Thank you.” He placed a coin on the tabletop for the jeweler then turned and led them outside.

  The afternoon sun had dipped below the surrounding buildings, leaving them in the cool shadows of the October day.

  “I know this man,” he told Madeleine. “He used to be my head stableman. A lazy, shiftless drunk. Because his wife was quite ill and they had several children, I reluctantly kept him on but I demoted him.” He snarled. “I cannot wait to get my hands upon him.”

  They had only taken a few steps when a man stepped from a narrow alley. “Gimme yer jewels!” he barked.

  Madeleine stammered, “But I have none.”

  “Nay,” the thief said. “I just seen ye leave Thomas’ place. Ye’re bound to have some bauble.”

  The thief pulled a knife from nowhere. With a quick motion, he sliced Garrett’s upper thigh. A bright, crimson line appeared and Garrett gasped in pain and outrage.

  “You have chosen the wrong man to tangle with, my friend.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Garrett slammed his fist into the nose of their attacker, making the thief’s head snap back. Crimson blood spurted from the man’s nose, giving Garrett a small sense of satisfaction.

  The bandit’s eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on the knife as he lunged.

  Garrett feinted to his left, then delivered a series of powerful blows to the robber’s midsection. He crumpled, collapsing into a heap at their feet.

  Garrett calmly turned to Madeleine, whose face was white with fear. He pulled her to him. “Are you all right?”

  She stammered, “Y-yes. But we must see to you.”

  Following the direction of her gaze, he stared at the blood flowing down his leg. The pain hit him, sharp and throbbing.

  She reached for the hem of her tunic and tore a wide strip from the bottom, tying it tightly around his leg.

  “Let us hurry, my lord. We must see to your wound at once.”

  He sighed. “I do wish you’d quit my lording me, Madeleine. Garrett—or my love—would do wonders for my health.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get up on Ebony, my dearest Garrett, before I inflict more damage to you myself.” She smiled at him sweetly.

  “Now that’s much better,” he said a bit woozily as he gave her a lazy smile.

  With her help, he was able to mount Ebony, then he reached and lifted her in front of him.

  The light had faded fast and the streets emptied quickly as they made their way to his London residence. He refused to take her back to the room she had been letting.

  “We’ll send for your things tomorrow, love. But for now, you’ll return with me. I wouldn’t want to chance your safety.”

  *

  Three-quarters of an hour later, they reached their destination. Garrett’s home was small by Stanbury standards but Madeleine was impressed with it all the same.

  She slid off Ebony as a lanky groom appeared. “Had a mishap, my lord?”

  “Just a little fracas, John.” Garrett eased off the horse with a grimace and handed the reins to his servant. Madeleine quickly took his arm and helped him to the house.

  A tiny housekeeper, who barely came to Madeleine’s chest, greeted them.

  “Hello, Maude,” Garrett called out weakly. “This is Madeleine. She’s even feistier than you.”

  Calmly, as though Garrett came in bloody on a daily basis, the servant said, “We’ll need to dress your wound, my lord, and then get you something to eat.”

  Madeleine watched Maude take charge of Garrett, fussing over him as she led him upstairs to his bed, making sure his gashed leg was propped up with pillows.

  “Madeleine can attend my injury, Maude. Just bring me a tender chicken with your famous sauce and I’ll be fine in no time.”

  “Chickens are the very thing I need,” Madeleine proclaimed.

  She and Maude went off in search of chickens and Madeleine asked the servant for wine, as well.

  Soon, she returned to Garrett with a tray. He grinned lazily at her.

  “I need to undress you, my lord,” she told him. “I must see to your wound.”

  He grinned at her. “Will you see to others things, too?”

  Exasperated, she pushed him back onto the pillows and unwound the strip of cloth from his leg. Both his pants and hose were soaked with blood, which had begun to clot. She removed his boots, followed by his clothing.

  She cleaned the deep slice first with water then warned him, “This will sting,” before pouring wine over the gash. He sucked in air loudly through clenched teeth as the wine touched his skin.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Taking care of you the best I know how,” she replied tartly. “I’ll either save you or kill you in the process. We’ll just have to await the outcome.”

  “You’re worse than facing a herd of bloody Scots,” he muttered. “It’s not even a scratch.”

  She ignored him as he rambled on, rubbing the whites of eggs across the wound to provide a soothing balm. As she brought the skin close together, she chanted, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Mary. The wound was red, the cut deep, the flesh be sore, but there will be no more blood or pain until the Blessed Virgin bears a child again.”

  Binding it with a clean cloth, she leaned back and surveyed her work.

  He smiled. “Never have I had such a lovely nurse.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss upon her knuckles.

  She looked him in eyes. “Oh, no, my lord, you aren’t to move a muscle.” She removed her hand from his and folded them both primly in her lap.

  “Mayhap you are right,” he said.

  “Of course, I’m right,” she retorted. “You must get some rest now.”

  “Will you stay with me? Please.”

  She gave in, allowing him to bring her down next to him. He placed an arm about her and drew her close until her head lay on his chest. “Now I am at peace,” he told her. He kissed the top of her head.

  They stayed that way for some minutes, then Garrett whispered, “I want you.”

  Immediately, she felt the familiar stirring inside her. She wanted his touch and yet couldn’t give in to the temptation. It would only make it harder to leave him. But her heart argued with her mind to seize the moment. There would be no others. Soon Garrett and England would be far behind, and she would only have these memories to sustain her for the rest of her life.

  She glanced up at him, and his lips moved to hers. She responded to his kiss, cradling his face in her hands. He needed no further encouragement.

  “No regrets,�
� she whispered into his mouth.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said, holding him close to her.

  Some time later, when they were spent, he fell asleep.

  Madeleine slipped quietly from the bed and dressed. She found Maude humming in the kitchen, the chicken plucked, boiled, and ready to be consumed.

  “Oh, my lady, how is the master? Well rested now, is he?”

  “He’s asleep, Maude. He’ll need broth from the chicken, too. We don’t want him to get a fever.” She hesitated a moment. “And, please, call me Madeleine. I am no lady.”

  Maude sized her up shrewdly. “You’re every inch a lady, my dear. Can’t hide that. Can’t hide how taken the master is with you, either.”

  Her cheeks heated with the servant’s words and she shook her head.

  “Don’t be silly, my lady. My master has been most unhappy nearly all his life. Don’t think I’ll judge you simply because you’ve brought a little sunshine into his life.” She eyed Madeleine speculatively. “Does he know you’re a lady?”

  Madeleine laughed, taken aback at her astuteness. “No, Maude. He thinks me a thief.”

  “And he still loves you, nonetheless? I’d reckon the only thing you’ve stolen is his heart.” Maude patted Madeleine’s shoulder. “Come, dear. Let’s get the master a meal in his belly and then he can have all the sleep he wants.”

  *

  Garrett awoke the next morning with a parched throat and a dull ache in his leg. His head was clear, though, with none of the throbbing pain to which he had become accustomed. It was too bad, in a way, for then he could have asked Madeleine to sing to him. Her voice had a way of soothing the pains in his head. He would have enjoyed being her audience of one.

  He spotted her dozing in a chair next to his bed. She’d probably been there all night. He reached over and gently took her hand, feeling its warmth. She stirred slightly but did not awaken.

  He gazed at her lovingly, wanting to know every inch of her. All his anger from the previous day was spent. He still wondered how she’d come into possession of Lynnette’s necklace but she would tell him in her own time. For now, he needed to return to Stanbury as soon as possible and confront Barth. Only when he learned the truth about Lynnette could he start a new life with Madeleine.