Forbidden Lady

‘Owain is not a serf,’ Melissa said, and her eyes flashed with fire as she was aware of his scorn. ‘He is his own man but chooses to give his affinity to me.’

Rob knew that he was right to distrust her, for plainly she was as haughty and proud as she was beautiful. ‘To you, lady?’ he asked, raising his brows. ‘It is more usual for a man to offer his affinity to a nobleman for his good lordship.’

‘Owain was my mother’s kinsman,’ Melissa said. ‘When she died in childbed, he gave his loyalty to me. He asks for nothing more than a roof over his head and the food he eats.’

‘And wears your father’s livery no doubt?’ Rob said, mocking her in the hope of some reaction. She did not fail him, her eyes sparking as she raised a hand to strike him a blow. He was too quick for her, seizing her wrist and holding it in an iron grip. Against the fairness of her skin, his was dark toned and bronzed by the sun of France.

‘Let me go, you devil!’ Melissa blazed at him, feeling angry now. He hated her for what had been done to him, and perhaps he had the right—but his scorn pricked her and her anxiety for Owain had brought her close to tears.

‘Let you go?’ Rob asked, wild thoughts of revenge in his mind. He could take her now, ride off with her to his home and teach her what it felt like to know despair, and yet her beauty moved him and he smiled oddly. ‘No, no, lady, let us not come to blows. I shall take you up with me since your horse has been lost. If your ladies wait here my men will arrive at any moment and they may follow us to the Abbey, bringing your horses if they can be found nearby. If your faithful kinsman still lives we shall take him there for the monks to nurse. If he is slain my men will bury him and a candle shall be lit in the house of our Lord and the priest paid to say a mass for his soul.’

‘You are kind, sir,’ Melissa said, her manner proud and reserved, for she had seen the mockery in his eyes. ‘I do not know why, because you have been served ill by my family.’

‘The cruellest blow of all was yours, Melissa,’ he told her. ‘Yet I shall not take foul advantage for it would not set well with my honour.’

Melissa stared at him for a moment and the look in her eyes gave him pause for thought. It was almost as if she were accusing him of something, though he could not imagine what—she was the one who had betrayed him.

‘I will help you because my father was once, long ago, your father’s friend,’ Rob said. As young men, Rob’s father had pledged his affinity to Lord Whitbread, as many did to the most powerful lord in their district. But they had quarrelled years ago, and of late the divide had grown wider because they were now on opposite sides.

After King Edward died and the throne fell to Richard, Duke of Gloucester, Sir Oswald Melford had changed his allegiance to another powerful lord. The rumours that King Richard III had ordered the murders of King Edward’s sons in the Tower of London had caused Sir Oswald, like many more freemen of England, to become disaffected. Lord Whitbread remained loyal to King Richard, but Sir Oswald had sent his son to the Earl of Richmond.

‘Why does my father hate yours?’ Melissa asked. ‘What is between them that…’ she choked back the words and shook her head. If she once faltered, if she gave way to the emotions swirling inside her she would weep—but she must not.

‘An old quarrel, I do not know. We waste time, lady,’ Rob said, a note of impatience in his voice. ‘Come, I am in a hurry. I must return home in all haste for my father is ill, but I shall see you safe to the Abbey before I continue my journey.’

Without more ado, he brought his horse forward, swept her up upon its back and leaped up behind her. Even as the great horse began to move ahead, his retainers were pouring into the sunlit clearing.

‘Follow to the Abbey and bring the women with you,’ Rob cried to his squire and urged his mount into the forest. He turned his attention back to the lady he was holding lightly against his chest, clamping down on his senses though her perfume was a bittersweet memory that hurt him still. ‘How far did you travel after your kinsman was struck down?’

‘It cannot be far for they pursued us and soon fell upon us,’ Melissa said as they moved on to the track that wound between the trees. After a few moments she pointed to a figure that lay sprawled upon the ground just ahead of them. ‘See! There lies my faithful Owain…’ As Rob drew his horse to a standstill once more, she slipped from its back without assistance and ran to where her servant lay. A little cry escaped her as she saw that his eyelids fluttered when she touched him. ‘I think he lives. The saints be praised, he is not dead!’

Rob dismounted and went to her side. He saw at once that although the man had received a blow to his head that ought by rights to have slain him, he clung stubbornly to life. Turning him over to look at his face, Rob knew at once that this was the man who had saved him and carried him back to his home, departing the next day before he was well enough to thank him.

‘This man is your kinsman?’

‘Yes, his name is Owain Davies.’

‘I am glad to tell you that God has seen fit to spare him, lady,’ Rob said, bending down to examine the wound. ‘He lives yet, though for how long I know not. We shall carry him with us to the Abbey.’ He was glad that he had not given way to his baser nature because this man needed his help, and he owed him his life.

Some of his men had followed hard upon their heels and he summoned them to his side, giving orders that a sling was to be fashioned so that the man might be carried between two of the baggage horses—just as Owain had carried him home that night. He stood up, taking hold of Melissa’s arm, tearing her from her weeping examination of her faithful kinsman. For some reason her tears made him angry. She wept for Owain Davies, but she had cried none for him!

‘Come, lady. I have no time for this. I must see you to the Abbey and be on my way.’

Melissa looked at him. ‘I owe you my life and that of my ladies,’ she admitted. ‘Since you are in haste to be on your way, I must not detain you. Perhaps if you were to give us horses and the escort of three of your men it would suffice?’ She felt that she could hardly bear to be near him and know that he despised and hated her.

‘Perhaps,’ Rob said. It would be convenient for he was impatient to continue his journey, and yet something held him. He knew he could not rest easy in his mind if he abandoned her to his men. ‘But it is not my way to desert a lady in trouble. I shall see you safe to the Abbey for those robbers are not the only danger a lady of your standing might face. You were foolish to venture out without at least ten of Lord Whitbread’s men to protect you.’

‘We do not live in the days of poor mad King Henry,’ Melissa said, becoming proud and haughty once more, though she knew he spoke truly. ‘My father has told me that the kingdom was indeed lawless in those days, but it is not thus now.’

If she believed that then she was indeed a fool! King Edward had managed to subdue some of the lawless nobles for a while but they had too much power and would never be brought into line while they were allowed to continue the custom of livery and all that that implied. Many of the earls and barons had set up a court to rival that of the King himself with hundreds of followers through various affinities, and were likely to take the law into their own hands. Only strong rule would break their power, which had grown so strong during King Henry VI’s reign.

Rob was tempted to tell her that England was once more on the brink of war. Yet it was best to keep a still tongue whilst nothing was absolutely certain. Henry Tudor had promised to bring an army to these shores soon, but until he actually arrived it might be unwise to speak of these things—especially to the daughter of a man who was the King’s stalwart and his enemy.

‘I shall not argue with you, lady. Come, your kinsman is being attended. We shall ride on.’ He held out his hand to her, his manner imperious, brooking no refusal.

For a moment she hesitated, but then gave him her hand and once again he threw her up on the great warhorse. She said nothing as he mounted behind her, though he felt her body stiffen when he put his arms about her.

‘You have no need to fear me, lady,’ he whispered, as her warmth and the delicious scent of her roused forbidden feelings in his loins. ‘I swear by all that I hold sacrosanct that I shall not harm you. There may come a time when I shall take revenge on you and yours—but it is not yet. I do not prey on vulnerable women.’

‘I do not fear you,’ she replied, and yet she knew it was a lie. To be with him like this would bring back the sleepless nights and the terrible pain she had endured for months.

‘I have always admired your courage,’ he said.

Melissa relaxed slightly against the hardness of his chest. For this little time, she would let herself believe that the bad things that stood between them had never been. She would let herself remember a young man who smiled at her with love in his eyes and the sweetness of his kisses. For a few short weeks, while her father was absent from the castle, they had met in secret, wandering through the woods hand in hand or riding together on his horse as now. Once he had taken her to a fair, buying her sweetmeats and ribbons from the peddlers…so few memories, but each one precious. If only her father had not forbidden the marriage…if only she had run away with him before it was too late! She held back the sob, which rose to her lips, because she must not give way to the overwhelming longing, the desire to tell Rob the truth…but would he even care or believe her? After seeing scorn and anger in his eyes, she thought that it would only shame her to confess her love.

They rode in silence for some time, covering a distance of no more than five leagues when the forbidding shadow of the great Abbey fell across their path. It was a thirteenth-century building with arches, narrow windows, little bigger than arrow slits, and a massive undercroft, built to house both monks and nuns in separate quarters. At the huge gates of iron-studded oak, Rob dismounted and lifted Melissa down, placing her gently on her feet before turning to tug at the rope, which rang the bell above the arch.

Moments later, a nun came to answer the summons, and looked out through a little peephole in the gate. Melissa gave her name and the nun recognised it, beginning to draw back the huge bolts that kept the gate secure to admit her.

‘I must leave you now.’ Rob made his bow to Melissa. His expression was cold and hard, his manner reserved. ‘If I were you, lady. I should send word to your home. It would be folly to attempt the return without an escort.’

‘Yes, perhaps…’ Melissa raised her head, then, her expression a little hesitant. ‘Thank you, sir. You have done more than I could have expected.’

‘I did what any decent man would do for any lady in distress, no more and no less.’

Melissa inclined her head, regretting the coldness between them. Once he had smiled at her, his bold eyes challenging her but with warmth…with love. He had loved her once, she knew, but she had killed his love—and her brother had humbled his pride, making him cold and bitter. How could she expect more from him? She raised her eyes to his, her own pride making her seem haughty, though inside she was weeping for what had been lost and would not come again.

Rob left her as she was admitted to the Abbey, remounting and riding on even as his men brought in her kinsman. He had wasted precious hours and must ride all the harder if he were to reach his home in time.

Melissa lingered a moment to watch the knight ride away. She knew that he had saved her from a fate worse than death for the men who had attacked her would hardly have been satisfied to take her purse. Yet to leave secretly, without an escort, had been her only chance of escaping her father’s tyranny.

Lord Whitbread had been visiting someone of importance and she had been informed that he might bring a guest with him when he came home. She knew that he was thinking of finding a husband for her and she believed that his guest might be the man he was considering giving her to in marriage.

However, the letter from her aunt telling her that she was unwell had made up her mind. She had seized it as her excuse and taken the chance to escape the domination of her father.

Lord Whitbread had never been kind to his daughter. Melissa’s mother had died in childbed and for some reason Lord Whitbread had chosen never to marry again. He had acknowledged Harold his bastard son as his heir. Harold might be a great brute of a man, coarse and strong with the manners of an oaf, but he was clever in his own way and had found favour with his father.

Melissa did not know why her half brother should be so favoured by their father, while she, his legitimate child, was scorned. She knew that he hated her and she feared him, though his habit of cuffing her about the head had ceased since her fifteenth birthday. He had suddenly realised that she was a beautiful young woman, and that her beauty might be an asset. In the time since then Melissa had lived in dread of the marriage he would make for her. She knew that he would not take her feelings into account and that she would be sold for position or power.

Sometimes she wished that she was not an heiress, for then she might have been allowed to live in obscurity and peace. However, her mother’s father had been the Earl of Somersham and his lands had been left in trust for her when he died earlier that year because he had no other heir. Melissa had begged to be allowed to retire to her lands, but her father had refused her. Until she married she was under his domain, and he meant to use her beauty and wealth to his advantage.

Melissa was sure that had he been able to snatch her lands from her—her father would have done so without compunction. However, the earl had made King Richard the steward of her fortune, and her death would have brought no gain to her father with the estate then becoming the property of the Crown. Even now, her father would have to gain the consent of the King to her marriage. Melissa was praying that if her aunt recovered her health, which she prayed she would, she might petition His Majesty to allow her to retire to the Abbey. She was recalled to the present, as she became aware that the nun was speaking.

‘It is good that you have come, my lady,’ the nun was saying. ‘Mother Abbess has asked for you many times.’

‘I would have come before if I could,’ Melissa said, and glanced at the men who were bringing Owain in. ‘But we were attacked and my kinsman has been injured. Will you tend him, sister? Forgive me, I do not know your name?’

‘I am Sister Cecile,’ the nun told her. ‘The monks will tend to your servant as in this order we are not allowed to care for men, only women, unless given special dispensation by the Bishop—but your kinsman may be admitted and taken to the infirmary. However, the rest of your men must stay outside the gates.’

‘They are the men of…a gallant knight who came to my rescue,’ Melissa said. ‘They will depart once they have done their duty—but I do not intend to leave just yet. How is the Abbess? It is some weeks since I had her letter, but I was not able to make the journey here until now.’

‘A little better this morning,’ Sister Cecile told her with a smile. She waited until Melissa’s women and the men carrying the injured Owain were inside the gates before addressing them. ‘You must take him to the infirmary and leave by that gate. The monks will attend you, good sirs.’

Rob’s men inclined their heads and went off in the direction of the outbuilding she had indicated. Cecile led the way towards the building used by the nuns. A high wall and another heavy gate separated the living quarters of the nuns and the monks, though the chapel was used by both for worship.

‘I thank God that He has spared her,’ Melissa said as Sister Cecile led the way. ‘I feared that I might be too late as she said that she had been gravely ill.’

‘Indeed, when you were sent for we thought she might not last the night,’ Sister Cecile said. ‘But come, lady. I shall take you to her quarters. Your women will be cared for by my sisters and you may see them later.’

Melissa turned to her women, telling them that she would see them in a little while, and then followed Sister Cecile inside the living quarters provided for the Sisters of Mercy. Although it was a warm day in June, Melissa shivered as she went inside the stone building. It had only tiny windows and the sun was shut out by the thickness of the walls. Even wearing her cloak over her silk tunic and surcote, she still felt chilled. Glancing at Sister Cecile, she saw that the nun did not seem to notice the cold, and realised that she was accustomed to the discomfort.

For a moment Melissa was discouraged. Did she truly wish to devote her life to God? Once she had thought that happiness, love and children were her future—but now she knew that all that was at an end. Melissa realised that she had secretly hoped to meet Rob again and that he would declare his love for her and beg her to ride off with him—and she would have gone. His coldness, the scorn in his eyes combined to tell her that he no longer loved her. It was foolish to dream though, because even if he had spirited her away, Lord Whitbread would have taken retribution. Melissa could not live with so many deaths on her conscience, knowing that it had been no idle threat.

The nun had stopped outside a closed door. She knocked and waited for a moment, then looked inside. Putting a finger to her lips, she beckoned Melissa to enter.

‘Are you sleeping, Mother?’ she said softly.

The Abbess opened her eyes, looking at Sister Cecile for a moment and then her gaze transferred to Melissa. Her lips moved and her hands fluttered as if she were in some distress.

‘Melissa, my child,’ she said. ‘I was not sure that your father would let you come.’

‘I could not stay away from you when I knew you were ill,’ Melissa said. ‘My dearest aunt. I have seen you all too seldom these past years, but you are often in my thoughts.’

‘My child…’ The Abbess held out her hand as Melissa approached. ‘I do not know how long I may be spared to this life and I wished to see you once more before I die.’

‘Please do not speak of dying, Aunt.’

‘If my time has come I must accept it,’ the Abbess said. ‘When I entered this place I put away worldly things, but I have loved you from afar, Melissa. I wished to tell you something…’ She glanced at the nun still standing near the door. ‘Thank you, Sister Cecile. You may leave us.’

‘Yes, Mother. You will ring when I am needed?’

‘Of course.’ The Abbess waited until the door closed behind Cecile and then reached beneath her pillow, taking out a paper sealed with wax. She put it into Melissa’s hands. ‘No, do not read it yet, child. It tells you a secret that I vowed never to reveal in life. When I am gone you may read it and take what action you will, but until then promise me that you will abide by my wishes in this matter.’

‘Yes, dearest aunt,’ Melissa said, taking the letter and placing it in the leather pouch that she wore attached to a braided belt at her waist. ‘I shall remember and respect your wish.’

‘I promised that I would never reveal the secret,’ the Abbess said, and her eyes held an expression of distress. ‘But I have feared for you, Melissa. I know…’ She drew in a sucking breath. ‘I must not reveal what I know while I live for I gave my sacred promise. Yet I would not have you at the mercy of that…’ She shook her head and fell back against the pillows, closing her eyes.

‘Aunt!’ Melissa cried, frightened that it was her aunt’s last moment, but after a few seconds the Abbess opened her eyes once more. ‘I love you, Aunt Beatrice.’

‘I am Mother Abbess,’ her aunt reminded her gently. ‘I am not allowed to care for you as I would wish—but I think God will forgive my final sin.’

Melissa looked at her, feeling bewildered and uncertain. If her aunt had guarded her secret for so long it must be important—and yet it seemed to concern her.

‘Is there something I may fetch for you?’ she asked. ‘Some water perhaps?’

‘Sister Cecile will return soon,’ the Abbess said. ‘She will give me my medicine which needs to be measured carefully. Though it heals, it also kills, as do many of the herbs we use in our cures. You have travelled a long way and should rest. Leave me now and we shall meet again tomorrow.’

‘I wish that I could do something for you,’ Melissa said, her throat catching with emotion. ‘But I shall leave you to rest, dearest aunt.’ She turned away from the bed. As she opened the door, she discovered Sister Cecile about to knock. ‘I believe that Mother Abbess wishes to rest,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you would show me to my cell and then return to her?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sister Cecile said, glancing past her at her superior. ‘She seems to be resting now. I shall return and tend her later.’

Melissa nodded, following the nun from the room. She had not mentioned her mother, nor yet her wish to remain at the Abbey, to her aunt, and she was not sure why. Perhaps she had not wished to distress the sick woman at such a time, and yet she knew that she must do so unless she wished to return to her father’s house. Only the sanctuary of the Abbey could save her from the fate he was planning for her.

Reaching his home, Rob lost no time in entering the house. David, his father’s faithful steward, a man of advanced years, grey in his beard but honest and generous of nature, came hurriedly to greet him and the look in his eyes told him that he was too late.

‘My father?’

‘He died two days ago, Rob,’ David said. ‘Forgive me. I would have sent for you sooner, but he would have it that nothing was wrong.’

Rob felt an overwhelming surge of grief. ‘I should have been here! I should have been with him!’

‘He bid me give you his blessing,’ David said. ‘He told me that he was proud of you because he knew that you would choose the right path in life—and he asked your pardon.’

‘My pardon—for what?’

David’s eyes went to the scar on his face. ‘He blamed himself for what was done to you, because of the quarrel between him and Lord Whitbread.’

‘I have told him that it was none of his doing,’ Rob said. ‘What kind of a man would do this over a piece of land?’

‘I do not believe it was just the land,’ David said. ‘It began long ago, when they were both young…’

Rob frowned, his gaze narrowing. ‘What is this? I have heard nothing of it before. I believed it was that woodland Whitbread coveted?’

‘That came later,’ David said. ‘Do not ask me to tell you what was the source of their anger because I do not know but I believe it may have been a woman.’

‘My mother?’

David shook his head. ‘I can tell you no more. Will you go up and see your father now, Rob? Megan has cared for him, but we waited to bury him until you returned.’

‘You did as you ought,’ Rob said. ‘I shall go up to him now.’

He was thoughtful as he walked up the stairs. What was this quarrel that had led to such hatred between his father and Lord Whitbread? If his father had lived he might have told him. Rob had been young and foolish when he fell in love with the beautiful girl he had seen walking in the meadows by her home. For some weeks he had gone every day to meet her, and their courtship had been sweet—but he had been blinded by his passion and her beauty, for Melissa was obviously as cold and proud as her father.

He would put her from his mind…but what of his heart?

This was no time to be thinking of such things! Rob was angry at himself. He must keep a vigil by his father this night and in the morning Sir Oswald would be laid to rest with all the honour due to the honest, decent man he had been.

Melissa was thoughtful as she walked in the Abbey gardens that evening before it grew dark. It was peaceful here, with the birds singing from the branches of ancient apple trees and a scent of lavender on the air. She had requested another interview with her aunt, but had been told that the Abbess was sleeping.