Rosamunda had been sad to leave Lux. But her tears were for Lucien.
Denis kept his face to the wind, his swarthy features twisted into a grim mask of determination.
Adam laid a hand on his brother’s rigid shoulder. “This was the right decision. Time is of the essence. All Hallows’ Eve is only two days hence.”
* * *
After several hours, the oarsmen were tiring visibly.
Adam and Vincent took their places.
Denis moved to Rosamunda’s side and reached his arm around her shoulders. “Lean on me, sister, we will bring each other warmth and comfort.”
She was grateful for his kindness in the midst of his grief and worry. She was feeling the loss of Adam’s heat.
Her betrothed smiled at her as he rowed. His powerful arms made the exercise look easy. She became rapt in the rhythm of his movements as he pulled the oars to his broad chest then leaned forward to gather strength again, his long legs braced in the boat. As night fell, the Bretons directed them into shore.
They camped in a wood. Exhaustion soon claimed her and she fell asleep in Adam’s strong arms, cradled in the security of his embrace.
She seemed to have just fallen asleep when Adam gently shook her awake. “It’s dawn, we must move on.”
She rubbed her eyes, gathering the blanket more tightly around her shoulders as a brisk wind buffeted her.
Denis stood on the rocky shore with the Bretons. She followed their gaze out to the choppy waves. “Not a good day to be on the water,” he grunted.
* * *
Within minutes of setting out, everyone in the boat was drenched. The Bretons advised pulling further from shore in an effort to find calmer waters. Adam feared someone might get swept overboard in the rolling swells as the oarsmen struggled to make headway. He and Vincent wedged a shivering Rosamunda between them.
The gentle drizzle that had begun on shore turned into a torrential downpour. Denis untied the cord controlling the rudder from the foot of one of the oarsmen and moved to the stern of the boat, grasping the tiller.
Suddenly, after what seemed like hours of rowing in place, land loomed before them.
Denis pointed and yelled.
Adam hoped it was the Quiberon Peninsula that the Bretons had told them protected Carnac from the sea. Once around its tip they would be in more sheltered waters.
“Quiberon?” died on his lips as an enormous swell picked up the boat and overturned it, casting them into the roiling waves.
Twist Of Fate
Letyce Revandel squinted into the pounding rain to make out the outline of Carnac Castle. Much as she longed to be dry and warm, she dreaded entering Malraux’s demesne.
Since the dwarf’s escape, the Breton had treated her cruelly, blaming her for the loss of his intended plaything. He had offered her no covering for warmth, save Paulina’s inadequate cloak.
He had disdained her attempts to placate him with sexual advances, and threatened to toss her from Le Manio if no suitable replacement was found. She cursed the day she had accompanied him on this mad excursion.
It was not her fault the dwarf had escaped. Blame instead his rapacious appetite for intercourse. However, he was not a man to be reasonable when angered. She shrank from his touch, now sensing great evil in him.
If she wanted to avoid death she would have to escape, or find a replacement for Paulina. She doubted there were many dwarfs in the vicinity. The heavy rain might provide enough cover for an escape. Malraux was far enough ahead he would not notice her absence for a few minutes.
Turning the donkey, she urged it to a trot, heedless of the danger of the animal losing its footing in the muddied terrain, and having no idea where she was headed.
* * *
Malraux did not turn when he heard Letyce flee. “With any luck the whore will fall off the donkey and break her neck. Sadly, such a fate would deprive me of the pleasure of seeing her dangle from the top of Le Manio.”
He yawned as he rode through the gate of his estate, patting his horse. “Feels good to be home, eh boy?”
A groom rushed to take the reins as he dismounted.
His steward appeared, adjusting his half-fastened doublet, shoulders hunched against the downpour.
Malraux scowled. “Roget, my traveling companion appears to have become lost. Send out a search party for her on the morrow, if the weather improves. Is everything in readiness for All Hallows’ Eve?”
Roget flinched. “Not quite everything, milord.”
Malraux braced his legs, hands on hips. “At least assure me the scaffolding has been erected.”
“Most of it,” Roget stammered.
Only a day left to complete preparations. Heads would roll if everything was not ready in time. “Forget the search party for the woman. Too much to do. We will need all hands.”
Roget bowed low.
* * *
Letyce screamed when the donkey shied, almost throwing her off. Trembling, she dismounted, trying to calm the braying beast. As the first gray light of dawn streaked the sky, her knees buckled as she gingerly peered over the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea.
Another few moments and she would have been dashed to pieces on the rocks below. The pounding surf drew her gaze as her belly twisted beneath her ribs.
Her eyes fixed on an object on one of the rocks. It looked like a person. Indeed, it was a person—a woman. Perhaps from a shipwreck.
Indecision plagued her. Let the woman fend for herself. Letyce feared injury clambering down to aid her. If she was badly hurt, there was no way to bring her up from the shore.
The donkey stopped braying and turned one soulful eye to her.
Letyce glanced about, looking for a path to the beach. “You want me to rescue her, don’t you, dumb beast?”
Now she was talking to a donkey. Madness wasn’t far behind. But one of her words stuck in her head.
Dumb.
She looked down again at the body on the rocks. Unlikely as it seemed, she felt a connection with the woman below.
She remounted, directing the animal along the cliff top. “Find me a path, donkey.”
She was soon praying hard as the sure-footed animal picked its way down a rocky path that twisted and turned many times before she was delivered to the beach, panting and sweating despite the chill of her rain-soaked clothing.
She dismounted on shaky legs and hurried to the body lying face down on the rock, frustrated by her shoes bogging down in the wet sand.
She strained to turn the woman over. Her face was bruised and there was a bloody gash over one eye. But there could be no mistaking the hair. Even plastered to her head, Rosamunda’s untidy locks betrayed who she was. “The mute,” Letyce gasped, a flicker of hope sparking in her breast.
A maelstrom of conflicting thoughts assailed her. She wanted to laugh in the girl’s face and ask her if she knew she was marrying a eunuch.
She had a notion to bash her head against the rock and finish her off, then Adam de Montbryce would have no one. Serve him right.
But there was still the problem of Malraux. No doubt he would come after her as his sacrificial offering for All Hallows’ Eve. Here was a perfect substitute, handed to her by the saints. Not a dwarf, but the dwarf’s sister, and a muette to boot.
Her heart lurched. Pray God the woman was still alive.
She shook her shoulders. “Wake up, wake up, Rosamunda.”
La muette coughed, flailing her arms, but did not open her eyes.
Letyce took hold of her hands. “Be still. You are safe now. I will take you to your sister.”
Rosamunda opened one eye, frowning as she grunted. Letyce was not sure what she was trying to say, so she shoved the ends of Paulina’s cloak into Rosamunda’s hands. “See, Paulina’s cloak. We escaped from Malraux. He’s evil. She is safe. I will take you to her.”
Rosamunda fingered the fabric, bringing it close to her face. Another unintelligible grunt. How did this woman survive without the gift of spee
ch? Such creatures had no place in Letyce’s world. Better she provide sport for Malraux. At least, better her than Letyce.
She helped Rosamunda to her feet. The blond swayed against her, holding a hand to her head, but seemed to have no broken bones.
Weighed down by wet clothing, the two exhausted women staggered like drunken serfs to the donkey. Letyce tilted her head to lick a few drops of rain from the air to soothe her parched throat. “Hold on to the saddle.”
Rosamunda clung to the pommel, resting her head on the saddle.
Letyce strained to put her shoulder under the mute’s derrière. “Climb up,” she wheezed.
It took several attempts to get Rosamunda atop the donkey. Letyce feared the dazed woman might yet fall off as they ascended the steep path. “Hold tight,” she urged, pressing her hands atop Rosamunda’s.
As she led the donkey up the path, it occurred to her this was a lot of effort to save a life that would be sacrificed to Malraux’s evil. She fell to all fours at the top of the path, breathless and aching. This was about saving her own life, but she was exhausted. “I’ll have to leave you here. We will never make it together. I will come back, with Paulina.”
She dragged Rosamunda from the donkey, helped her to the shelter of a rocky overhang, tucked Paulina’s cloak around her, remounted, and rode off to retrace the path to Malraux’s estate.
Evil Intent
Adam broke the surface, gasping for breath. He raked his hair off his face, rubbing the salt from his eyes. Rosamunda was nowhere to be seen. Panic gripped his vitals.
Denis popped to the surface not far away, coughing and spluttering, his thick hair covering his face.
Adam swam over to him, feeling the tug of the current. The one thing Denis feared was deep water. He had never learned to swim. Adam threw an arm around his brother’s chest. “Don’t struggle,” he rasped. “Lean back into me.”
Denis obeyed.
Adam scanned the water frantically, looking for any sign of Rosamunda. There was none. If he let go of Denis to dive down and look for her, his brother might drown. But he had to try. “I have to let you go.” He took a deep breath. “A moment only.” He eased his arm away from Denis. “Kick like hell.”
He dove beneath the surface, searching the clear water for any sign of his beloved. Only when his lungs were ready to burst did he resurface. Denis was still afloat, but his drawn face betrayed his belief he was about to die. “Rosamunda?”
Adam shook his head, again clamping his arm around his brother. “Current—too strong.”
He kicked out for the shore, which did not appear to be far away. Exhaustion numbed his limbs as he dragged Denis with him. It occurred to him swimming would be easier without his sword, but he determined not to discard it if possible.
Once in shallow water, they crawled to the beach on hands and knees, coughing up sea water, then collapsed on the sand, breathing hard.
Denis rolled to sit up, his knees bent. “Merci, mon frère for my life. That was a close call. I have to learn to swim.”
Adam too sat up, his head in his hands. “The current was strong. You may not have made it anyway. It probably carried Rosamunda further down the coast. We must search for her.”
Denis came to his feet. “But Paulina.”
Adam looked up sharply into the green eyes of the brother he loved. Denis feared for Paulina as Adam feared for Rosamunda. Time was of the essence. If they spent time searching for Rosamunda, they might be too late to save Paulina from Malraux’s evil intent.
If they abandoned Rosamunda, she would likely die, cast up on some lonely shore, if she hadn’t drowned already.
And where was Vincent Lallement?
As if conjured by the thought, Vincent staggered from the water and collapsed next to Adam, looking up at the sky, his chest heaving.
Adam shoved his shoulder. “Turn over before you choke.”
Vincent heeded the warning. “Where is my sister?”
Denis studied his feet. “We don’t know.”
Vincent sat up abruptly. “You mean she drowned?”
Denis shook his head. “We don’t know.”
Vincent lunged at Denis, grabbing the front of his tunic. “It’s your fault, insisting we come by sea.”
Denis made no effort to fend him off, but Adam wrenched him away. “I am as desolate about Rosamunda as you are, but it is not Denis’ fault. We were aware of the dangers. Now we must decide the next step. We have no horse, and no idea where we are.”
Vincent relented, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, looking out to sea. “The second problem might be remedied if that’s our crew struggling to shore yonder.”
Adam’s heart lifted. The men were Bretons who might be familiar with the area. He and Vincent strode out to help the sailors.
As the men recovered their breath, Adam pondered their next move. He itched to strike out on foot to find Rosamunda, but night would draw in soon, and everyone was already shivering in wet clothing. “We must get dry before we do anything else. Scavenge for driftwood and kindling. Call out Rosamunda’s name as you go. She may be nearby.”
He turned to the older Breton. “Do you know the area?”
“I do, milord.”
“Is there adequate shelter in the trees?”
The man rubbed the stubble of his dark beard. “There is, but if memory serves, there’s a cave around the cliff.”
“Is the tide coming in or going out?”
“Going out, milord.”
“Very well. We’ll search for the cave and build a fire there.”
As the other men set off in search of wood, Denis remained with Adam, his face a mask of pain. “It is my fault we are in this situation. Now we have both lost the women we love. Can you forgive me?”
Adam clenched his jaw, his gut filled with a dread that Rosamunda might not survive a cold, wet night alone. Refusing to believe she had drowned, he offered Denis his hand. “There is nothing to forgive. Come, help me locate the cave.”
* * *
Malraux de Carnac was warming his backside by the hearty fire, when a servant came to him with a surprising message. He had lost patience with Roget’s inefficiency and spent hours working on the scaffolding that would be used to haul the chosen virgin to the top of Le Manio. It was heavy work, lifting sturdy wooden poles in chilly temperatures. It had numbed him to the bone and filled his fingers with irritating splinters.
He would either have to select a girl from the village, or go in search of Letyce, who surely could not have gone far on a donkey.
Now, a woman had turned up at his door, seeking entry. He resisted the urge to smirk when a bedraggled Letyce was shown into the hall. Despite her rain-soaked state, his shaft stood to attention. The memory of their trysts fired his blood.
She did not avert her eyes. In fact, her demeanor was bold. “You seem surprised to see me,” she said cockily.
Malraux stroked his beard. “You were not anxious for my company when we parted.”
She sidled up to him, thrusting her breasts provocatively. “You were being cruel. It was not my fault the dwarf escaped.”
He brushed his thumbs over her rigid nipples, then squeezed hard. “But someone had to be punished.”
She gasped, throwing back her head, but then she flounced away, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “That someone isn’t me. I have a better idea.”
“And what would that be?”
“The dwarf’s sister.”
He arched his brows. “The mute?”
She rolled her eyes suggestively. “The same.”
Malraux scoffed. “And where might she be?”
Letyce’s expression hardened. “I know where she is, but before I deliver her to you, I want your oath I will not be harmed, and a guarantee you will see me safely back to England.”
Malraux laughed. “And how can you be sure I will keep such an oath?”
Letyce smiled seductively. “You are many things, most of them evil, but you are not a
man to forswear an oath.”
He chuckled inwardly. For all her whoring ways, Letyce knew him. “Very well, take me to her.”
* * *
Uncontrollable shivering racked Rosamunda. She thought she heard men’s voices calling her name, but had no will to rise from beneath the rock under which she seemed to be wedged. They would not hear her grunted pleas for help.
As her wits slowly returned she recalled being suddenly plunged into the cold, swirling water that had quickly swept her away.
But now she was on land, wrapped in what appeared to be Paulina’s cloak. A woman had helped her.
Red hair. The woman had red hair. Paulina’s hair was dark. The only person of her acquaintance with red hair was Letyce Revandel.
The memory filled her with dread. It was Letyce who had helped her. Letyce hated her. There was no good intent here. The hore had likely gone off to seek help, but who would she bring?
Malraux de Carnac.
Rosamunda dug her fingers into the rough surface of the rock, trying to ease out from its shelter. Sharp pebbles dug into her back, but she succeeded in sitting up. Pain sliced into her eye. She touched her forehead and her hand came away bloodied. The landscape tilted as she squinted into the misty gloom.
She did not see Letyce until the woman was upon her. She crawled away, but came up against the legs of a man standing beside her.
“In a hurry to go somewhere?” a familiar voice oozed.
There was no escape. Malraux picked her up, though not without some effort. “You’re wet, and that’s a nasty gash you have. We’ll take care of it once we get to my demesne.”
He threw aside the cloak tucked around her. “One less wet garment. I’ll keep you warm.”
Rosamunda struggled against him, but he held firm and she was too weak to persist. She wept as the memory of being held safe against Adam’s chest swept over her.
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