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  Jeopardy

  Anna Markland

  JEOPARDY

  THE MONTBRYCE LEGACY

  ANNIVERSARY EDITION

  BOOK 10

  By

  ANNA MARKLAND

  Copyright © 2014, 2019 by Anna Markland

  COVER ART BY DAR ALBERT

  Jeopardy by Anna Markland

  Book Ten, The Montbryce Legacy, Anniversary Edition

  © 2014, 2019 Anna Markland

  www.annamarkland.com

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  For permissions contact: [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  What Readers Are Saying

  More Anna Markland

  Prisoners

  Stages

  Opposing Sides

  Latitude

  Nursery

  Laurent

  Allegiance

  Marguerite

  Playing Soule

  Tell Him I've Gone To Bed

  You Are Their Mother

  Decisions

  Getting Away

  Bayeux

  Epiphany

  Addlebrained

  I Can Protect You

  An Oath Forsworn

  Speech

  Pledging

  Passion Shared

  Travesty

  The One Man

  Baffled

  Fairy Dust

  Agony

  Token

  Glee

  Lynx

  Pyre

  To Caen

  Secret Weapon

  Lix Loves Ye

  Facing The Inevitable

  Descent Into Hell

  A Changed Man

  Queen Of The Mud Mound

  Bowshot

  Silver-Haired Angel

  Feast

  Bearing Fruit

  Epilogue

  About Anna

  What Readers Are Saying

  “This story is as satisfying as an imagined goblet of Montbryce apple brandy. I loved all the tie-in's to the previous tomes. Caedmon and Ronan were so special that it is a treasure to have them referred to with such reverence...and to revisit Robert's incarceration, even after his death, to bring his family into harmony, well it certainly would have pleased all the forebears. I loved the addition of the canine hero. I'm very greedy when it comes to this family. Ms. Markland must be getting accustomed to all the plaudits coming her way...but she is a most gifted writer and I will read whatever she publishes until these eyes fail and then look for them in Braille.” Karen W.

  Our ancestors are totally essential to our every waking moment, although most of us don't even have the faintest idea about their lives, their trials, their hardships or challenges.

  ~Annie Lennox

  For my Elaine, with love.

  More Anna Markland

  The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018-2019)

  I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen

  II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla

  III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta

  IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni

  V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina

  VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys

  VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise

  VIII Crescendo—Izzy & Farah

  IX Infidelity—Gallien & Peridotte

  X Jeopardy—Alexandre & Elayne

  The Montbryce Legacy First Edition (2011-2014)

  Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter

  Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana

  Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider

  Sinful Passions—Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan

  Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families

  The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn

  The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja

  The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith

  Novellas

  Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby

  Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine

  Banished—Sigmar & Audra

  Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne

  Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine

  The Marauder—Santiago & Valentina

  Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)

  Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret

  Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte

  Book III Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora

  Book IV Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea

  The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)

  Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt

  Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca

  Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara

  Myth & Mystery

  The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn

  Clash of the Tartans

  Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona

  Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel

  Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla

  The House of Pendray

  Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)

  Kingslayer’s Daughter—Munro & Sarah

  Highland Jewel—Garnet & Jewel

  Highland Rising—Gray & Faith

  Link to Amazon page

  Prisoners

  Montbryce Castle, Normandie, August 1136 AD

  “THE PRISONERS ARE HERE, milord Comte.”

  The crowd of villagers, men-at-arms and castle-folk gathered in the cavernous Great Hall of Montbryce gradually quieted as Steward Bonhomme awaited his master’s response.

  Alexandre de Montbryce shifted his weight in the lord’s chair, the drumming of his fingers on the elaborately carved arms the only sound in the immense chamber.

  “They are hostages, Bonhomme, not prisoners,” he said with more belligerence than he intended. His rebuke echoed off the stone columns, disappearing into the rafters.

  Seated at Alex’s right hand, his younger brother sucked in a breath, scratching his head.

  Were it possible, Alex would cede his title to Romain. Being the Comte de Montbryce, chieftain of one of the wealthiest and most powerful Norman clans with extensive holdings in England and Normandie was a responsibility he’d never wanted. But their parents would turn over in their tomb if Alex denied his heritage.

  He’d done what he could, insisting Romain share the decisions and responsibilities. His reluctant brother would become the next Comte de Montbryce. They’d argued many times over Alex’s insistence he would never marry. He could only hope the philandering Romain would settle down and wed a suitable bride before the day of Alex’s death dawned.

  He and his siblings were very different in temperament despite sharing a strong resemblance.

  Hands fisted at his sides, Bonhomme reddened, visibly embarrassed by the unusual criticism from his master. He bowed again. “Your pardon, milord.”

  Alex wished he could take back the harsh words. The Montbryces were known as a noble and honorable family who treated their serfs and servants well. Successi
ve Bonhommes had served them for four generations. But his resentment refused to release him. “Fetch them,” he commanded.

  He turned to Romain as Bonhomme left the hall, the heavy oaken doors closing with an ominous thud. “Montbryce Castle will not serve as a prison as long as I am comte.”

  “I understand, Alex. However, was it necessary to embarrass Bonhomme in front of others?”

  Alex stared up at the banners wafting in the rafters, many of which had hung there since his grandmother had plied her needle.

  The aroma of smoked ham served earlier at the midday luncheon still hung in the air, though the tables and benches had been cleared away and the stone floor swept.

  He wished he’d been there, nigh on three score and ten years ago, when his great grandfather had entertained Duke William of Normandie a few months before his resounding victory at Hastings. It was in this historic place that the future Conqueror had appointed Alex’s grandfather to supervise the preparation of the fleet that would sail to England.

  Alex had known no other home but this impressive castle, deserving of its reputation as one of the finest in Normandie. He loved every time-worn stone and was adamant it would not be used as a prison in furtherance of the political ambitions of a would-be queen.

  Though Romain was right about his harsh words to Bonhomme, the thought of unjustly depriving anyone of their freedom, especially a child, knotted Alex’s gut. Every son and daughter of the recently deceased Robert de Montbryce understood and shared Alex’s turmoil. Many years ago, against all odds, their father had survived a cruel solitary confinement at the hands of the Duke of Normandie. Alex had come into the world during his father’s captivity.

  He dragged his thoughts back from the memories of his early years with a father struggling to recover from his ordeal—a man he feared and barely knew. “I’ll speak to Bonhomme later. He’ll understand. Remind me, what are the hostages’ names?”

  Romain rolled his eyes. “Henry and Claricia.”

  Both doors to the hall creaked open. Bonhomme ushered in the hostages, grandchildren of King David of Scotland. They’d been handed over to Comte Geoffrey of Anjou and his wife Maud as a token of good faith to guarantee Scottish support. Maud had requested they be kept at Montbryce.

  Alex had known they were children, but hadn’t expected a boy and a girl so alike in appearance they could be twins.

  A murmur of delight rippled through the hall at the sight of the fair-haired enfants, but it ceased gradually as the clink and drag of chains echoed off the stone floor. Alex had been led to believe the hostages were at least fifteen years of age. Henry and Claricia Dunkeld couldn’t be more than seven or eight. They’d been chained together, wrists manacled, ankles shackled.

  Anger surged up his throat. He leapt to his feet. “Why in the name of all the saints are they in irons? Remove their bonds at once.”

  Murmurs of agreement with his fury rippled through the crowd of onlookers.

  A soldier wearing the devise of Comte Geoffrey shuffled forward, a large key in hand. Alex struggled to control the urge to strangle him with his bare hands as the chains clunked to the floor and the man gathered them up. “How long have these children been manacled?”

  “Since they arrived in this land, milord,” a loud female voice replied.

  Caught off guard by the undisguised resentment in the speaker’s words, he glanced up sharply and for the first time noticed the young woman who now gripped the hand of each twin. Wisps of flame-red hair escaped a checkered shawl of brown and grey covering her head. Freckles dotted her nose. High cheekbones and a proud chin added nobility to a woman in servant’s garb. Her fresh beauty stunned him. He’d never journeyed to Scotland, but easily conjured a vision of her galloping across wild moorlands on a white horse, her hair a ribbon of red whipped by the wind.

  She stared at him defiantly for long moments, rendering him speechless, though he doubted she would reach his shoulder if they stood side by side—an inexplicably appealing notion.

  At her nod, the royal infants made their bow and curtsey to Alex. It was a commendable effort considering their age and condition, though the woman kept hold of their hands, providing an anchor. They flushed at the barely discernible smile she bestowed when they glanced up for her approval.

  Alex had a peculiar urge to bask in the glow of her smile, but it quickly disappeared when she looked back at him. Though he understood it, he was strangely distressed by the hatred evident in her gaze. She was nursemaid to hostages and thus deprived of freedom. Geoffrey had cruelly ordered her small charges manacled for some ridiculous reason. She was far from her homeland, and probably not by choice. She was a servant—yet hadn’t offered even a perfunctory curtsey.

  Alex had long ago accepted he was destined to live a solitary life. He’d always been the odd one out in the family. He and his father had never been close. Robert de Montbryce’s forced absence at Alex’s birth seemed to form an invisible wall between them. It had taken years for Robert to regain his strength. Their mother had worried that her husband might never be the man he was before his imprisonment. As a child, Alex learned to be wary of his father’s sudden changes of mood, but he never understood why his sire felt guilty about the time they’d lost.

  Now Robert de Montbryce’s body lay alongside his beloved Dorianne in the castle’s crypt. The intrigues surrounding the struggle for the throne following King Henry’s death in December had been too much for his health, already weakened by a racking cough.

  Resentful of the constant tutelage when his father was alive, Alex was grateful now for the knowledge and guidance passed on to him. Though he and his brothers disagreed about who should now sit on the throne of the English, he always assured them of his intention to emulate the three generations of his ancestors who had fulfilled the job with honor and dignity.

  But he had refused to bow to the insistence he marry, and now it was too late. At a score and twelve years of age, he had become resigned to his bachelor life.

  He had remained celibate throughout the half year of intrigue and conflict that had swept Normandie as King Stephen and Empress Maud vied for the throne of England after King Henry’s death.

  Celibacy hadn’t been a hardship. Now, astonishingly, a discourteous servant in drab clothing, albeit a stunningly beautiful redhead, had caused his body to respond in a way he’d not experienced in many a year.

  Without much effort, a servant had taken control of this gathering that should have seen her quaking with fear.

  He stepped down from the dais, glad he’d worn a long tunic. By rights he should reprimand the woman for her insubordination, but the defiance in her green eyes gave him pause. Perhaps in Scotland a nursemaid was given more leeway.

  He nodded to Henry Dunkeld. The lad was, after all, a possible heir to the Scottish throne. “Welcome to you, Henry, and to your sister. I am Comte Alexandre de Montbryce.”

  He turned to Romain, now standing at his side. “I present my brother, Romain de Montbryce.”

  “Mes seigneurs,” Henry murmured, his eyes fixed on the stone floor. Claricia gazed from Alex to Romain and back, tears welling, her free hand twisted in the fabric of her dress.

  He was confident the nursemaid would not be fluent in his language, though her initial outburst had been in Norman French. Nervous the children might catch what he was saying, he shielded his mouth with his hand as he turned to Romain. “For an infant to be taken from her home and her parents and brought as a hostage in chains to a faraway land is intolerable. No wonder the nursemaid is angry.”

  Romain stroked his chin, a bemused look on his face. “Angry, but beautiful.”

  Alex glared, irrational jealousy seething in his gut. Though they were sometimes mistaken for twins, women were drawn to Romain’s cheerfulness and charm. “Not with a foreign hostage, brother.”

  Romain winked, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. “Pity, but I’ll heed your wishes.”

  He and his brother were tall and must seem like giant
s looming over these two infants. Alex hunkered down next to Claricia, which only increased the turmoil at his groin. “Demoiselle, please introduce your nursemaid.”

  The child stared at him, her chin quivering, leading him to think perhaps she didn’t speak his language. He stood, concerned his attempt at closeness had intimidated her.

  The nursemaid bent to whisper something to the child in a language he supposed was Gaelic. The shawl slipped off her head, revealing a glorious cascade of thick, red hair. His breath caught in his throat.

  The woman quickly replaced the shawl, her blush the first chink in the armored mantle of composure.

  Alex licked his dry lips, wishing he could apply his tongue to the nipples that pouted against the thin fabric of her bliaut as she raised her arms to secure the shawl. He wasn’t sure what had happened. All he could think of was taking her to his bed.

  Claricia murmured, “Mon seigneur, I present my nursemaid—” She looked imploringly at the woman holding her hand.

  The nursemaid stepped forward. “My name is Elayne, milord de Montbryce.”

  She spoke again in flawless Norman French. Alex stared open-mouthed, the sultry disdain in her voice echoing to his core.