The Maiden And The Warrior
“I am most anxious that my work today has not been in vain,” he explained. A faraway look came to his eye that was chilling. “I have been waiting a long time for this day, and have come far to see it through. Defeating du Berg is only the beginning. I will take everything of his as my own.”
Though unsaid, the implication that she was to be counted among his booty made Alayna stiffen her spine. She certainly had no quarrel with the man desiring revenge against Edgar du Berg. No doubt Edgar was deserving of it. But to include her was not fair.
“I do not understand,” she said. “What does any of that have to do with me?”
“Are you unaware of your position, or merely think me daft?”
He was growing irate again, and the thought of his wrath directed at her nearly made her retreat. But Alayna was not without a temper of her own, and it rose now in her defense. “I have not called you daft. I only wish to leave.”
“And go to Henry and plead your rights as widow of this burh? No doubt you are much put out by the loss of your husband. It would be advantageous for you if you could manage to win back what you have lost.”
“I have no intentions of doing anything of the sort!” she objected. “I want nothing to do with this place. And make no mistake, my lord, I do not mourn any of my losses, least of all my husband!” With everything she had endured at Edgar’s hands, this suggestion stung most. “I hated him, perhaps more than you did, de Montregnier. He tricked me into coming here and forced marriage upon me.”
An insolent look lifted his brow in vague interest. “Trickery was du Berg’s specialty. How is it you were duped?”
Taking a deep breath, Alayna steadied herself. She would have to explain it. “He sent a message telling my mother that he was a cousin of my father’s and inviting us for a visit. My mother was anxious to get me away from court, for the intrigue and debauchery there troubled her, so she accepted. My father is dead these six years, you see, so she did not suspect Edgar’s claim to be a relation was a lie. Once here, he set a trap with that vile creature who has the audacity to call himself a bishop, claiming my reputation had been compromised.” She drew a breath, noting that he had the grace not to look bored with her explanation. “My choices were marriage or the stake.”
“Now, is that not a bit dramatic?” he asked.
“Yes, I thought so, but the suggestion was bandied about just the same. You know, they can burn an adulteress. Edgar would have done it.”
“Why did your family not intervene?”
“I was forbidden to write to my mother. She never knew.”
His eyes narrowed to slits of black. “And what was the late Lord of Gastonbury’s motivation for this great scheme?”
“My lands, you dolt!” she snapped, then immediately regretted it. This man was not someone to goad. He was not, however, perturbed by her insult; he didn’t flinch. She continued in a calmer vein. “He sought me out because I was an heiress.”
“A terrible tale,” de Montregnier tsked insincerely, “but quite irrelevant, even if it is true. You will remain. At least until I can see what is to be done.”
“You cannot do this!”
He smiled with audacious smugness, spreading his hands out before him. “Demoiselle, I have just killed your husband and defeated his army. I assure you I can do anything I wish.”
When she opened her mouth to protest again, he held up his hand, forbidding her entreaty even before it was made. “My lady, I have allowed you much freedom in expressing your displeasure. But I warn you not to try me.” Again that superior grin appeared. “I have had a difficult day.”
A slow burn of rage claimed her, banishing her previous fear and propelling her headlong into open rebellion. “You have no right—”
“But I do, lady, for all of Edgar’s possessions revert to me.”
“I am not a possession!”
“A modern opinion, but not one shared by our law,” he drawled, watching her reaction through hooded eyes. “You were Edgar’s property, and now you are mine. And since you will be here, where I can watch you, you can spread no mischief for me.”
Alayna was speechless. So there it was. He thought her some kind of threat to him, to his hard-won prize. Hastening to reassure him, she said, “There is nothing I want here. I give you my word that I will do nothing to interfere with you.”
The twitch of his eyes warned her of his displeasure and of a depth of rage she dared not tap. “I have no use for a woman’s promises. They are not worth the breath required to speak them.”
Her mouth worked in mute indignation as she struggled to find her argument. Then, a thought struck her suddenly, and she relaxed, returning his bitter smile.
“You have no need to worry. I am not Edgar’s widow!”
Lucien gave a long sigh. “What nonsense is this now? I am in no mood for your games. Now, will you pledge fealty to me, or will it be the dungeons?”
“You would not dare!”
“You do not know what I would dare, demoiselle,” he threatened. He stood before her, legs spread, arms crossed before him with easy arrogance. He seemed to loom gigantic, impossibly immense and threatening. “And let me further warn you that I am not tolerant of the female sport of coyness and pointless intrigue. If you have something of import to say to me, speak it outright. My patience, what little I have for your sex, is wearing thin.”
“The marriage contract is invalid,” she stated, “for there was no consummation.”
His brows shot up. “What lie is this? You say Edgar did not take you?”
Blushing deeply, Alayna forced herself to meet his incredulous stare. “That is what I said.”
“I do not believe you,” he challenged.
“’Tis true,” she countered stubbornly.
Lucien raked a hand through his tousled hair. “Who knows of this?” he demanded, “Were not the linens displayed?”
“There was no time. Indeed, all assumed the marriage fulfilled, if they gave it any thought in the midst of being besieged.”
“I returned to Gastonbury for one purpose only—to possess all which belonged to Edgar du Berg as payment for his crimes against my family. I intend to do just that. You were his beloved wife, so too shall you belong to me.”
“But I told you, I am not the lady of the castle.”
He gave no answer, but made a swift move toward her. She cringed, thinking he meant to strike her. Instead, his hand shot out and long, steellike fingers closed around her wrist.
“Wh—?” she began, but the objection was cut off by the hard jerk he gave, bringing her full against him. Stunned, she stared up at him, his face only inches from hers. For some strange reason, her gaze fastened on the clean, pale line marring his cheek, just under the eye. Unable to move, she was dimly aware of some distant part of herself urging her to protest this rough treatment. “Let go,” she said softly, but it was without conviction.
His eyes flitted over her face for a moment before he turned away and pulled her behind without a word.
“Let go!” she said, this time more emphatically, when she saw which direction he was headed. Dragging her up the stairs, he was bringing her to the corridor that led only to the master’s bedchamber.
My God, she thought with alarm, the knave meant to bed her!
Chapter Three
Lucien had no such intentions.
Hauling her along behind him, he went directly to Edgar’s chamber. His chamber now. He knew the way well. He had played in this castle in his youth. His mother and he had come here every year when his father’s service was due to his overlord.
It was here that he had made the tragic discovery, all that time ago.
Such an innocent mistake, his was. He had heard his mother’s laughter, an unaccustomed sound to his young ears, and had been unable to resist. She had always been so cool, so removed, so indifferent to him. Yet he had adored her, thinking her the most beautiful of women and he had hungered for her love.
That was why he had been drawn to the laughter. It was so rare to hear it. Curiosity it had been. Deadly curiosity.
If not for that curiosity, his father would be alive. He himself would not have spent eleven years in hell. It was a guilt he had lived with for a long time. All because of curiosity and a spurned son’s longing for a mother who was nothing but a spiteful and vain betrayer. It had taught him a painful, valuable lesson about life, and about women. That knowledge he had accepted, nay, embraced, as one of the truths that ruled his life: trust nothing which comes from a woman.
Flinging open the portal, he swept Alayna inside the chamber with him and slammed the door shut.
It did not look much different than it had that night. There was the glut of furnishings, the heavy tapestries, the lavish pile of furs on the bed…the bed, the same one in which he had seen them, entwined in a way that had shocked and embarassed him. A strange feeling constricted in his chest, but he pushed the rush of memory aside.
“Now, Lady Gastonbury,” he said tightly, “you tell me Edgar, who is well-known in these parts for his taking of other men’s wives, sadly neglected his own on the eve of their wedding? Is it possible that you did not suit? I doubt it, for though your tongue is waspish, your form is pretty enough. Pray tell, lady, how is it Edgar forgot you?”
“Hardly forgotten,” Alayna snapped bitterly. “I am quite certain Edgar had every intention of taking advantage.”
“Taking advantage? You were not wed?”
“Of course we were, but I told you it was trickery.”
“One only has to consider Edgar’s wealth to think perhaps you found your marriage advantageous, at least on some accounts.”
She shrugged, doing a bad job of trying to appear unperturbed. “If it suits you to think me the eager bride, then I cannot dissuade you of the notion.”
“Aye, I do indeed find it hard to believe Edgar did not avail himself of your…charms at his first opportunity.”
“He passed out from the wine before he could…” Her face flooded with color. A pretty effect, Lucien thought sourly, meant to dissuade him from inquiring further. Oh, yes, his mother had been an excellent tutor on the cunning ways of women. This one would find her wiles wasted on him.
“What you are telling me is completely unbelievable.”
“Do you think I care what you believe?” she flung. “You stand there and insist on what you want to be true, as if you can command it to be so because you say it. Well, you cannot command this, no matter how much it displeases you. I was not Edgar’s wife! I am no part of this place and I demand that you release me at once.”
Lucien regarded her coldly for a moment, trying to decide if she was lying. Her demands he ignored.
He went to the bed, standing between her and it so she could not see how his hand trembled as he lifted the covering of furs, throwing them aside as if scalded and forcing himself to look at the linen.
There were no signs of virginal stains there. When he turned back to her, his face was once again unreadable.
“’Tis most humorous to me that this bed, which has witnessed the taking of so many woman, goes unused on the night its master is to take the one woman to whom he has a right.”
She was watching him carefully, not able to keep the faint gleam of victory from her eyes. She was waiting for him to concede. He was all at once struck by how incredibly beautiful she was. He had noticed before, of course. Even among the crowd in the bailey, she had shone like a jewel amongst cinders. Her eyes were a strange green, as deep and mysterious as the pine forests he had seen in the Northlands. They were almost luminescent, fringed with thick dark lashes and delicately arched brows. There was something about the shape of those eyes that made her look innocent and sensual at the same time. Her skin was flawless, smooth and the color of cream with a blush. Around the oval of her face, her hair was mussed, but the soft luster of sable was not subdued. Her mouth was pursed in anger now, but it was lovely despite her expression, full and lush, the kind that turned a man’s thoughts away from the business at hand and prompted other, less worthy thoughts.
Suddenly he thought of how odd it was for him to be noticing all of this, and he scowled. “I am not troubled by the lack of proof of your virtue,” he said softly, deliberately. “For all I know you were not a maiden on that night.” He ignored her deep flush of rage. He was certain, of course, that she was indeed still a virgin. She was too obviously embarrassed by the whole matter to be lying on that account. “It makes no difference to me what these linens show, for I say you are the widow of my defeated enemy, and your disposition is mine.”
Aghast at his words, Alayna snapped back at him, “How dare you, when you know the truth! I will tell the king’s man about this, and others will back me, for there is no proof on those linens to credit your false claim.”
Ignoring her, he drew a short dagger from his belt. She shrank away with a small cry. Good Lord, she thought he meant to threaten her with it! Deliberately he held the blade up as if to show it to her, then grasped the naked steel with his other hand and drew it across his palm. He did not flinch at the sting as the cut opened, welling up blood in a vivid crimson line. The wound was nothing. As she watched, horrified and stunned, he reached for the bedclothes and grasped them in his fist.
He waited for the moment of comprehension. With a cry she leaped forward, snatching the cloth from his hand. Lucien released it, letting her see the bright red stain.
“Learn this, lady, for it will serve you well. I have waited upon my vengeance and planned carefully for it. No one, least of all a woman, will thwart me.”
“You are an evil liar,” she whispered vehemently.
“Perhaps. I have been called worse,” Lucien replied. “Take care not to aggravate me, for I have no wish to punish you. Simply mind your place, and we will get along sufficiently.”
She curled her lips in a derisive sneer. “You are more despicable than Edgar. If you think you will hold me here in disgrace and—”
“Be at ease,” he drawled. “I intend no such thing. Your reputation will be safeguarded, for I have no nefarious intentions.” A wicked impulse made him add, “Unless you so wish it.”
She sputtered a moment or two, unable to give voice to the rage that choked her. God’s teeth, she was magnificent! Finally she shouted, “I will see you pay for this. You are a liar and a brute, a cad of the first rank, a fiendish—”
“And you are a mere woman with nothing else but to accept that you have been bested. Why not concede gracefully? I have assured you I intend you no harm. Take heart, my fiery vixen, for I promise when the matter of the barony is settled with the king, we will see then what there is to be done with you. But until that time, you are far too valuable a player in the game to set free.”
“I shall make you regret this,” she promised hotly.
He laughed, a cold, sharp sound. Unable to resist, he pushed her a bit further. “’Tis regrettable to me that you insist on this senseless opposition.” He took a step closer, lifting his unwounded hand to touch an errant lock curling gently at her ear. It was thick, the color of chestnut burnished to a high sheen and incredibly silky. He let the strand sift through his fingers.
Standing frozen, like an animal caught in a snare, she stared back at him with wide eyes. Her gaze flitted to his hand entwined in her hair, so close to her cheek. He had meant only a jest, a simple maneuver to intimidate her, but suddenly there was between them an enigmatic tension. She felt it, too—he could see it in her startled expression, in the stiff posture. And she was as taken aback by it as he was himself. He pressed on. “There is more worth in an alliance between us. Methinks it would bring much greater reward than this sparring.”
Green eyes slid back to him. They seemed to glow with a light of their own, looking as clear and bright as a tiger’s. She smacked his hand away. “You must be mad!” she snapped.
He genuinely laughed then, surprising her and even himself, for he was a man who did not laugh often.
She stepped away, anxious to put some distance between them. “That is something which will never be, for the choice to be enemies was yours. However, I will oblige you on that regard, and so I vow I will do my best not to disappoint. I shall be a worthy adversary.”
With that, she whirled, presenting her back to him in an angry dismissal. Lucien couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting down to notice the shapely curve of her hips.
“I know you mean every word of your promise to vex me. I have no concern about these threats, for I am hard-pressed to imagine any damage you would be able to inflict.” He thought for a moment. “Still, many a woman has sewed trouble for a man for whom she harbored ill.”
“And well do I know the selfish destruction of men!” she flung over her shoulder.
He smiled tightly. “You show yourself to be a credit to womankind, with your threats and foolish pouts. Do your best, demoiselle, for I am eager to meet your contest. But let me, in all fairness, issue a warning of my own. Know that there is little I will tolerate from you without punishment.”
Alayna turned to face him again, her eyes narrowed to bits of emerald ice.
He cut off her brewing tirade. “As long as you behave rightly, I will not trouble you. You are quite safe from me, I assure you. Your beauty would taunt a saint, but I know too well the poison a fair face can hide. Beauty, my dear lady, is a lie to rob a man of his senses, make him weak. You’ll not have that power over me.”
They glared at each other, and to Alayna’s credit, she held her counsel, lifting her chin in a mute arrogance—a gesture meant to annoy him, he was sure.
She was tempting. But he had not come back from the dead to tangle with a slip of a girl. Satisfied with her silence, he gave her a glowering nod of approval. He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him with a deafening thud.
Alayna was left alone, breathless with overwhelming rage. This man—this Lucien de Montregnier—was incredibly obnoxious! So smug, so sure of himself. So certain he had won.
Well, he had, that much was true. And there was nothing she could do about it. Which was all the more infuriating. As she ruminated, Alayna paced within the confines of the chamber.
She kept looking at the bed linens. Of course, she wouldn’t tell anyone about de Montregnier’s deception—who would believe her? De Montregnier had been the only one to see the unstained cloth. Now there was nothing to prove her story. Angrily she ripped the coverings from the bed. She would have liked to burn them, but that would not have served her purpose any better.
At least he had promised he would not molest her, unless she was willing, he had said. Imagine the gall! Did he think her some lusty chit who fell at a man’s feet simply because he was attractive? Did he think she would swoon at the bawdy suggestions he had made, fainthearted and hopeful for his favor? If he did, he was a fool! He was a swaggering, conceited bully as far as she was concerned, and she would find a way to thwart him!
Not looking where she was going, she almost slammed into a large trunk. The place was teeming with them, oversize leather-bound chests of thick oak. And all of these riches now belonged to de Montregnier. His castle, his chambers, his food, his lands, his furnishings. He had won himself a great prize. Everything, including her, it seemed, belonged to him.
This fueled her anger. How she despised him, with his high-handed arrogance!
She almost tripped again, this time over a thickly embroidered tunic. Edgar’s. She flashed on the memory of the other night in this very room when he had struggled out of it, casting it aside carelessly in his eagerness for her. The recollection brought a shudder. He had gotten down to his leggings before he had succumbed to the effects of his overindulgence.
It occurred to her that this, too, belonged to de Montregnier. Edgar’s penchant for expensive clothing was worth no small sum in itself. All part of de Montregnier’s booty. Alayna smiled at the thought of the dark warrior in Edgar’s fancy garb. She hardly thought de Montregnier would favor the colorful and elaborately embellished garments. Good, it pleased her that this, at least, would be wasted.
Still he could sell them and fetch a goodly amount. No doubt de Montregnier would prove to be as greedy as his predecessor. The poor folk of the shire would certainly fare no better with the new lord than they had with the old.
It was then the idea struck her. A terrible, awful, wonderful, enticing idea that she told herself at once she could not possibly dare.
Could she? Immediately, and against all good sense, she knew she could. She knew she would.
Alayna flung open a trunk. She hastily lifted a few pieces and looked them over. Oh, yes, this was a delightful idea!
So he does not wish to be cheated of one thing of Gastonbury’s? Well, my Lord Conqueror, she thought, a pleased smile stretching her lips, I will cheat you at least out of these splendid clothes, and anything else that I can think of.
Chapter Four
It was much later when Alayna entered the infirmary, her mind filled with plans for the trunks stuffed with Edgar’s clothing, which now resided in her chamber. Her good mood did not last long.
Many of the men who had suffered serious injury in battle were now succumbing to the inevitability of their wounds. The place held the specter of death like a thick, pervasive stench. She moved about from one bedside to the next, feeling a numb horror at the sight of the dying, her high spirits now gone.
Eurice came to her side. “You look ill, Alayna.”
Alayna sighed. “Not ill. I have been manipulated by Edgar and am now harassed by de Montregnier. Yet I stand here and see this carnage and realize that my problems are trivial compared to all of this death.”
Eurice looked to the fallen men lying on their pallets. “Men make war, Alayna. ’Tis their way. They took their oaths to serve the Baron of Gastonbury, as their fathers did before them to all of the barons through the years, some good, some bad.”
“Edgar was a wicked, evil man.” Alayna shivered. “And I fear his successor is not much better.”
Eurice raised her brow. “He seems fitting. Everyone is speaking of him, and not much bad. There is hope he might prove worthy. He gave a free and fair choice to enter into service, one he did not have to give.”
“He gave nothing,” Alayna snapped. “That speech was simply a pretty package for his ultimate insinuation into the barony. De Montregnier knows if he has the support of the vassals, Henry is unlikely to depose him. For the sake of peace and to preserve his own seat of power, the king will approve of the man who has the loyalty of the people. Tell me, did anyone decline his gracious invitation?”
Eurice shook her head. “Nary a one.”
“Of course, who would? Why these poor folk would follow the devil incarnate after Edgar.”
Eurice made a sign of the cross against the mention of the Dark One. Alayna smiled at her nurse’s superstition.
“Eurice, I have found several trunks in Edgar’s room. They contain an array of finery such as you have never seen. The extravagance is sinful, and it put me in mind of the need we saw in the village.”
“Those poor wretches—” Eurice nodded “—what have they to do with Edgar’s clothes?”
“He laid waste the countryside to fill his stores with food and wine, this castle with riches, those trunks with expensive garments and God knows what other extravagances. We must right that. Taking this treasure and redistributing it to the common folk might give some meaning to all that has befallen to me.”