Fatal Truths (The Anarchy Medieval Romance) Page 10

  She got up, scooted them closer together, then knelt before them, holding their hands. “The Comte has decided to change his allegiance.”

  Henry and Claricia’s confusion was plain to see. Why couldn’t she get her scattered thoughts together? “Alexandre has broken his oath to Maud.”

  Henry frowned. “Why?”

  Claricia extracted her hand from her mother’s and put both hands on her hips as she turned to look at her brother. “Because he’s angry that Maud chained us,” she declared, as if speaking to a nincompoop.

  Henry clenched his jaw. “But that’s no reason to—”

  As the squabble continued, Elayne fought for calm. “Listen, both of you. Alexandre believes Stephen is a better person to be King of the English.”

  Henry nodded. “I never met Maud, but I didn’t like being chained, and she demanded hostages. That made grandpapa angry.”

  The edges of Claricia’s mouth edged down. “What will grandpapa do now?”

  Elayne inhaled deeply. “I don’t know, but we can’t worry about that. What we do know is that Maud and Geoffrey may attack Montbryce Castle.”

  “Because we’re here?” Henry asked, his eyes wide.

  Claricia’s lip trembled. “I’m frightened, maman. Will Maud kill us if she catches us?”

  Elayne couldn’t lie, but she could make them more hopeful. She climbed back onto the bed, gathering her children to her. “Maud and Geoffrey will want this castle in revenge. Alexandre will protect his lands at all costs. Maud will never take it. We’re safe here.”

  As her frightened children clung to her, she only hoped she was right.

  Henry looked at his sister. “Don’t worry, Claricia, we have Faol. He will protect us.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A SENNIGHT LATER, serfs posted as lookouts in the outer reaches of the apple orchards raised the first alarm after espying a large force of mounted men and carts approaching in the distance. This early warning gave time for the villagers, who’d been prepared to move at a moment’s notice, to gather their belongings and herd their livestock within Montbryce’s sturdy walls.

  “Everything has gone according to plan, Bonhomme,” Alex declared from atop the battlements as the first soldiers of the unwelcome army appeared on the fringes of the meadow. “Less than a half hour.”

  Romain patted Bonhomme’s back. “Why are we not surprised, since it was your plan?”

  The Montbryce men-at-arms standing near enough to overhear voiced their heartfelt agreement. A ripple of approval ran through the ring of armed men assembled atop the walls as the word was passed.

  The Steward’s face reddened slightly. “Took a lot of practice,” was all he said.

  “That’s exactly why there was no panic,” Alex added, thankful once again for Bonhomme’s efficiency.

  “How many?” Romain asked, looking out.

  “At least two hundred,” Alex replied, “and more streaming through the orchards.”

  “We can assume it’s Geoffrey, then?”

  “Oui, though I don’t see him. I surmise they plan to set up an encampment on the edge of the orchards.”

  Shouts and sounds of mallets pounding pegs into the ground echoed across the meadow as the enemy soldiers in the far off field labored to erect tents and pavilions. Alex and Romain watched for more than an hour until a thick bank of fog rolled in, obscuring their view.

  “Merde,” Romain exclaimed. “It’s going to be impossible to tell how many they are.”

  Alex shared his brother’s frustration. “Judging by the number of tents, he’s planning to stay a while. We could attack, but I can’t send the men into a trap. He might have hundreds more than we’ve seen so far. Some reports claim he and Maud have raised an army of thousands, others dispute that.”

  Bonhomme cleared his throat. “Mes seigneurs, perhaps we should say some words of reassurance.”

  Alex turned to look down into the bailey, where a crowd of serfs, peasants, servants, and soldiers had gathered, worry and uncertainty writ plain on every face.

  “Indeed. Thank you, Bonhomme.”

  It was important to allay the fears of his people, who might face months of being cooped up in the castle while Geoffrey and Maud laid siege. Though all knew the reason for the presence of Geoffrey’s army, some might not approve of his actions and dissension could eventually cause problems of discontent.

  “Villagers of Montbryce, I applaud the brave manner in which you arrived here, with your livestock.”

  A goat bleated. Snickers of amusement drifted up from the crowd.

  “I laud the servants of this castle, men and women, who have made room here for those who’ve been displaced. Some of you may be living in close quarters, but you won’t be out in the cold.”

  Murmurs of agreement.

  “Your ever faithful Steward has made sure we have plenty of food, wood and water and there will be enough to last a long time if everyone takes their fair share.”

  Nods, grunts, a few smiles now.

  “However, I do not anticipate that we will be cooped up like this long. You are well aware of the army we garrison here. Montbryce is protected by the best trained and bravest soldiers in all of Normandie.”

  It had been so since the terrible time of his parents’ kidnapping.

  “Capitaine Brodeur has prepared an armory fit for a King’s army. The day will come when Geoffrey of Anjou will sorely regret tangling with us.”

  Loud cheers.

  “Nothing good ever came from Anjou,” someone shouted.

  “What was King Henry thinking, marrying off his girl to an Angevin?” another yelled.

  Alex was glad of the determination he now saw on their faces, but he held up his hand. The crowd quieted.

  “It’s true Normans and Angevins have long been enemies, and Geoffrey is laying siege to this castle for one reason only. He wants to rule Normandie, just as he thirsts to rule England.

  “But I believe Stephen of Blois, grandson of our great Conqueror, is a better man and a better King, and I will protect this castle and the people in it against those who would challenge his rule. Go now, and have confidence in these soldiers.”

  “And in our Comte,” a voice declared.

  “Long live Comte Alexandre,” many shouted as they dispersed.

  Romain slapped him on the back as he let out a long, slow breath. “Well done, mon frère, best speech you ever made.”

  Alex laughed. “It’s the only speech I’ve ever made.”

  ~~~

  ELAYNE, HENRY AND FAOL stood in the shadows just inside the doors to the Keep, out of sight but not out of earshot of Alexandre’s voice.

  Pride swelled in her heart. Henry turned around and beamed at her. “He’ll not allow this castle to fall,” her son declared. Faol barked his agreement.

  Elayne had to believe it was true. If they fell into Maud’s hands, they would be exposed as imposters. Alexandre’s castle was their sanctuary.

  She took deep breaths, trying to calm her nervous heart. A troubling thought had occurred. If Alexandre took her to wife, he would never be expected to give them up to Maud, and she would have to accept that. They would be safe—forever.

  But did he want marriage? Or was he content to have her as his mistress, now he knew she was of noble birth? Was there a reason he’d never married? He desired her, of that she was certain, but a Norman nobleman wouldn’t want to be saddled with another man’s children, though it was evident he cared for Henry and Claricia.

  If she broached the subject, he might think she was only concerned for her children’s future, which was true, but how to convince him she loved him?

  ~~~

  ALEX HEARD FAOL’S BARK. The dog wasn’t far away, which meant Henry was close by, and probably his mother. His body warmed at the possibility she’d heard him address the crowd.

  He had no doubt that if Elayne was already his Comtesse, she’d have been up there on the battlements with him, encouraging her people.


  It was a lightning bolt. What was he waiting for? Why hadn’t he asked her to be his wife? It was the surest way to make sure she stayed out of Maud’s clutches. And she was a widow, the children fatherless.

  He caught sight of Elayne and Henry entering the bailey. Henry waved.

  He hesitated. She might think he was asking simply to save her and the children, or because she’d refused to become his mistress, when the truth was he craved her every minute of every day.

  Did she feel the same?

  His body was on fire for her, but he thirsted also for the peace she brought to his soul. He saw himself in a completely different light when he was with her. He was the Alexandre his parents believed him to be. Alexandre the Great.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE FOG CLUNG TO THE MEADOW for a sennight, muffling sounds and rendering it impossible to ascertain the numbers of enemy troops camped on their lands.

  The future seemed shrouded in uncertainty, but Alex became more and more sure Elayne was his destiny.

  He requested her presence in his solar one afternoon, determined to leave there a betrothed man. As he waited he cast his mind back to the day he’d planned to ask her to be his mistress. That had been nerve-wracking. This was torture. If she said no—

  But why would she?

  She tapped lightly on the open door and he bade her enter. Her smile warmed his heart and hardened his body. “You sent for me, my lord?”

  He took her hand. “Please, call me Alex. I am not your lord—”

  She cast him a brief glance that gave him hope.

  “—though I would like to be.”

  She studied the floor, scattering his fledgling hopes like sparrows startled out of their nest by the hawk.

  Still holding her hand, he sat in his favorite chair and pulled her onto his lap, forcing her rigid back to mold to his chest. He kissed her neck. She was a widow, a woman who had lain with a man, borne his children. There was no point pretending she was a coy virgin and he an untried youth. He pushed his hips up gently so his arousal pressed into her derrière. “Don’t fight me, Elayne. You can feel what you do to me. I’m on fire for you.”

  She relaxed a little. “Men are easily aroused by a woman’s body. I understand that. It’s different for us.”

  It became even clearer to him then what kind of marriage she’d had, but the aroma of her arousal filled his nostrils. She wanted him. He traced a fingertip over the back of her hand. “Are you not attracted to me?”

  She tried to get off his lap, but he held firm. “I will not be like your first husband, Elayne. I will love and cherish you and do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  She stared at him. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

  He laughed at his own ineptness. “Oui, I got ahead of myself. I planned to give you a flowery speech, but I am so anxious to make you my wife, I blurted it out.”

  He nuzzled her warm neck. “Please say yes.”

  “But what about Henry and Claricia?”

  “I will love them as my own children. I already do, you know that.”

  “But what will your people think—marrying a Scot?”

  “Everyone at Montbryce thinks the world of you and your children. They recognise a good Comtesse when they see one. They’ve witnessed your courage.”

  He took her hand. “Why are you hesitating? You know I love you. Will you consent to be my wife, oui or non?”

  ~~~

  ALEX’S UNMISTAKABLY HARD MALENESS pressed against her bottom sent rivers of longing flowing through her veins. Marriage to a man she loved, a man she craved. It was too good to be true. She trailed her fingertips over the back of his hand—strong, male, so different from her own. How good it would feel to have those fingers touching intimate places that had never known the sweet caress of a lover.

  But doubt insinuated itself into her thoughts. “You’re not asking me to marry you simply because you think it’s the only way to save us from Maud?”

  “You know that’s not true. You’re the one who is going to save me—from myself. I need you.”

  “But Claricia and Henry will never take their rightful place—”

  Her own empty words echoed in her head. How foolish to think King Dabíd would ever bestow upon her children the recognition they merited. In the Scottish court they would always be bastards, objects of ridicule and gossip. Alexandre would give them love, a place of honor, though they’d never be his heirs. “I am a fool,” she murmured.

  He pulled her closer. “A fool because you’re going to say yes?”

  Though he jested with her, she heard the edge of doubt in his voice.

  She cupped his beloved face in her hands. “I will be your wife, Alexandre de Montbryce, and that makes me a very wise woman.”

  He let out a long slow breath, smiled then kissed her lips, coaxing them apart with his tongue. He tasted of the sweet wine he’d imbibed at luncheon and his warm skin smelled clean, wholesome. She ran her fingers through his silky hair, imbued with a sense of peace she hadn’t felt for many a year.

  He nibbled her bottom lip, grinning as she teased him with her tongue. “There is only one problem,” he whispered.

  A shiver of apprehension skittered up her spine. “Problem?”

  “We cannot marry—”

  Fear turned her thighs to lead weights as she struggled to get off his lap. He held firm. “Listen. You’re like an angry cat. Let me finish. We cannot marry until Laurent returns.”

  She sagged into him, instantly regretting her misunderstanding. “Of course, both brothers must be here, and your sisters.”

  He groaned. “But it might be months before we can get everybody to Montbryce safely.”

  Wanting Alexandre and not being able to have him would be intolerable, especially in a castle crammed to the rafters with people and animals. Perhaps there was a solution.

  “In the Scottish Isles they have an ancient tradition of handfasting. The bride and groom pledge to each other before God as man and wife. Originally, it gave the man the opportunity to determine if the woman suited or not, and if after a year he didn’t think so, he was allowed to end the contract. We could handfast until we can marry.”

  He smiled, sending tiny winged creatures fluttering in her womb. “So, if we handfast, you’re my wife and I can make you mine?”

  She nodded, afraid if she spoke she might sob with happiness.

  He tapped his chin. “Seems to me my mother told me she and my father did much the same thing shortly after they first met.”

  He came to his feet abruptly, and strode towards the door, her hand firmly gripped in his.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the chapel.”

  ~~~

  THE MEAGRE LIGHT in the chapel came from two flickering candles on the altar. Alex and Elayne remained motionless in silence for several minutes, their heads bowed, kneeling on the plush red cushions of the prie-dieus.

  “I feel I’m in the throes of a mystical experience,” he whispered. “I’m aware of the gulf between us, but none of that matters at this moment.”

  Though his parents had pledged to each other in a chapel far away from the one in which he now knelt, Alex was filled with a satisfying sense of the past repeating itself. He squeezed Elayne’s hand. “Look at me.”

  A bolt of desire rocked him as she turned, her green eyes full of love and longing. A faint trace of incense tickled his nostrils. He smiled. “I am yours forever, Elayne. I’ve never known such feelings as I feel for you. I pledge myself to you.”

  “Forever, Alexandre, I’ll be yours forever. I give you my pledge,” she echoed, her voice shaking.

  They stared at each other for long minutes. He squeezed her hand again. “It’s a man’s right to kiss his bride,” he murmured, suddenly feeling shy and uncertain.

  He leaned to kiss her on the lips and her mouth parted. She raised her hand to touch his face and he placed his hand over hers. It was a moment of deep contentment unlike any he had
known before as their tongues mated.

  They broke apart and he helped her rise from the prie-dieu. “Come to my chamber,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing her hand to his arousal. “I have a wedding gift for you.”

  Her lips parted. He lowered his head to swipe his tongue over one of the nipples pushing against the fabric of her bliaut, savoring the sharp intake of breath as she pressed his head to her breast.

  But his hopes were dashed when she pulled away, shaking her head. “I want nothing more than to hasten to your chamber, but my children will worry if I don’t escort them to the evening meal.”

  He breathed again when she said, “I will come tonight, when they are asleep.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE SERVANT WHO’D BROUGHT and lit the dozen extra beeswax candles left Alex’s chamber with an expression on his face that indicated he thought his Master had lost his wits.

  Alex had never paid much attention to the furnishings of his bedchamber, but now he cast a careful eye over everything. He’d ordered the candles to make the room brighter. A hearty fire roared in the grate. After an intensive search, a lone bottle of mead had been unearthed in some dim cellar and now sat on a small table beside two goblets.

  This was his wedding night, but his bride was being denied the traditional celebrations. It was up to him to make sure she didn’t feel the lack.

  He debated whether to remove his clothing, but Elayne would have to walk the hallways fully dressed. He would have the opportunity to undress her—slowly—and he liked the notion of her removing his clothing.

  The garments would remain on his person for the time being, though his leggings were becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the pleasurable erection that anticipation had brought on. He’d already discarded his doublet in the Great Hall during the evening meal.

  He chuckled, recalling the look of stupefaction on Romain’s face at the unusual behavior, but it had become stiflingly hot in the Hall waiting for the interminable meal to be over while watching his wife eat with servants.