If Love Dares Enough (12 page)

The man was plainly nervous to be the bearer of the next piece of information. He’d obviously drawn the short straw.

“The—Saxons,” Pascal stammered.

“Which Saxons,” Renouf asked, his voice dripping ice.

“Your lady wife,
milord
—and her—family—and those cursed dogs.”

“I don’t care about the bloody hounds,” Renouf spat with fury. By now he’d retrieved his horse and mounted. “And Torod’s is the hand behind this escape? I think not. The man has the brains of a flea.”

“I don’t know,
milord
, but we can’t find him anywhere.”

Renouf snorted. “Likely dead, killed by the Montbryce brothers. Who else would have the temerity to invade my home and kidnap my wife?”

Pascal had remounted and now rode alongside his master. “Their steward did come to speak with Torod.”

Renouf was startled. “From where?”

“I think their manor at East Preston.”

“The derelict?”

“They’re reopening it.”

Renouf picked up the pace. “What of the madwoman, and the old man?”

The youth swallowed hard. “All gone,
milord
.”

“And no one saw them go? How could they have fled? Did they take horses?”

“Only one mount is missing. Torod’s.”

“So whoever killed him took his horse. But how did the others escape? And where did they go? Our first stop will be East Preston.” He urged his horse to a gallop

***

Théobald Cormant was feeling pleased with himself. He’d so far managed to trap two dozen pigeons which had been sent off to Normandie with Lord Antoine, and the rat poison he and his brother Barat had set under the careful supervision of the rat catcher, Jubert, was paying off handsomely, rigid rodent bodies turning up everywhere.

“But here comes a rat of a different order,” he mused as he watched a Norman he assumed to be Renouf de Maubadon riding into view.
Milord
Antoine had warned them to expect this despicable brute.

“
Milord
?” he oozed in his best steward voice as Renouf reined in his horse. “May I be of assistance? I’m Théobald Cormant, steward of East Preston.”

“Where are Antoine and Hugh de Montbryce?” Renouf demanded.

“May I enquire who you are,
mon seigneur
?”

Renouf’s ire was evident on his red face. “I am Sir Renouf de Maubadon, of Melton Manor.”

Théo kept his voice even. “
Mes seigneurs
are probably in Normandie. They left several days ago. With large castles to administer there they have appointed my brother and me as seneschals here, to oversee the manors granted by King William, including yours.”

Renouf bristled at the reminder.

“Are you the steward who came to my manor two days since?”

Théo was enjoying the game. “Melton?
Non
,
milord
, that was my brother Barat.”

Renouf’s voice had risen to a shout. “And with whom did he speak?”

“I know not,
milord
, and he isn’t here today. He’s gone to Kingston Gorse for more rat poison. We have a significant rodent problem here. Is something amiss?”

Renouf looked perplexed. Théo bided his time.

“I will return, steward Cormant,” Renouf spluttered as he and his man rode away.

Théo watched them go. “And I’ll be waiting,
raton.”

***

When Renouf rode into the courtyard of Melton Manor a short time later, Barat Cormant was waiting, leaning casually against the wall of the well.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Renouf demanded to know.

“I’m steward Barat Cormant—”

“But you’re supposed to be at Kingston Gorse!”

“I was,
milord
, and I thought to call in here on my way back to East Preston. I spoke with your man, Torod, the other day. Did he not tell you?”

Barat struggled to hide his amusement as he watched a furious Renouf almost fall off his horse when his foot caught in the stirrup as he dismounted, flinging the reins to the man accompanying him. Barat decided to keep talking. “I’ve been trying to find him here today, but he seems to have disappeared. No one knows where he is. However, now you’re here we can go over the accounts—”

“There will be no accounting done this day, I can promise you, Cormant,” Renouf retorted angrily, shaking his fist.

“I see,
milord
. Of course. This is a bad time? Perhaps on the morrow?”

Renouf waved him off, cursing as he strode into the manor house.

Barat remounted and rode away with a shrug and a grin. Compared to his father’s former masters, Guillaume and Arnulf de Valtesse, dealing with this man would be child’s play.

Devona could see her mother was exhausted, but she had so many things she wanted to say to her. Recriminations whirled in her head. On the other hand, she wanted to throw her arms around her parent and welcome her back to life.

“Devona,” Lady Wilona began, taking her daughter’s hand.

Devona pressed her mother’s hand to her lips. “Hush. You need to sleep. A meal is to be served in the Great Hall later. Till then, rest. You’ve had a difficult day!”

A tear trickled down Wilona’s cheek. “I’ve been such a coward.”

Devona kissed her forehead and wiped away the tear. “You’re back with us now. That’s all that matters. And you saved us from Torod.”

Wilona’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh God. I killed a man. I’ll burn in hell.”

Devona shook her head. “You did it to save us. God won’t punish you for that. You were defending your children.”

Her mother nodded and Devona tucked the bed coverings around her as her mother’s eyelids closed.

“Sleep peacefully,” she whispered, then tiptoed to the door of the adjoining chamber. Aediva and Bemia were curled up together on the same bed, still awake. She sat on the edge and stroked Aediva’s hair.

“Are we safe now?” Bemia asked.

“Yes,” Devona gasped, choking as it came to her she hadn’t breathed properly for many hours during the escape. Now the idea that they might all be free of Renouf’s cruelty hit her full force and she had to thrust her knuckles to her mouth to prevent a strangled cry.

Aediva reached up and put her hand on Devona’s face. “It’s all right to cry, Devona. It’s your bravery that has kept us all alive. Come, rest here with us.”

Her sister’s compassion and understanding was her undoing, and Devona sobbed. The three girls curled up together on the big bed and cried out the pain and loss of five long years, until exhaustion carried them into sleep.

***

After he and Antoine had paid their respects to their parents’ tombs in the crypt, Hugh went to rest in his own chamber, but the thought of Devona under the same roof kept him on edge. He wanted to go to her, to hold her and kiss away the years of pain and torment, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. Although her husband was a monster, she was still married to him. She didn’t belong to Hugh.

His heart was heavy as he looked to the future. Now he’d rescued these Saxons, what was he to do with them? They were suspect foreigners in his country. He would have to act as their protector. He wanted to be so much more as far as Devona was concerned, but the idea of an adulterous relationship and his fear of his own latent aggression combined to weigh heavily on him.

He could leave them at Montbryce, under the protection of the Bonhommes, but then they would be virtual prisoners. He could take them to Domfort, where they might enjoy a freer life with him as their champion, but then Devona would be an ever present temptation. Censure might fall upon them too from the Church once the Bishop learned Devona was married—to a Norman no less.

He wandered into Antoine’s chamber to discuss it with him, though he intended to say nothing about his fears that passion might arouse violence in him.

Antoine’s face showed his surprise. “I can’t imagine why you would want to leave them here at Montbryce. It seems to me that the ultimate solution is to get rid of Renouf.”

Hugh slumped onto the edge of Antoine’s bed. “I agree, but we can’t murder the man.”

Antoine sat beside his brother. “You’re right. But perhaps if we watch him, we’ll discover where he goes in Normandie and why.”

“What good will that do?”

“My gut tells me Renouf has something to hide. If we can discover what it is—”

Hugh felt a flicker of optimism as his brother continued. “—I’ll try out one of the birds we brought from East Preston with a message. Next time Renouf leaves, we’ll have him followed. Devona said he goes four times a year, so we’ve a while to wait yet. He’s probably back from his latest journey now, ranting and raving. I expect a message from the Cormants soon.”

“What do you think he’ll do about losing Devona?” Hugh asked.

Antoine shrugged. “He may have his suspicions, but there’s no proof we were involved, until it becomes known she’s in our castle. He may complain to his local bishop, or he may try to petition the King, or he may go to Ram.”

Hugh leapt to his feet. “
Dieu!
I hope not. I don’t want to involve Ram and Mabelle. This is my problem.”

Antoine came to his feet as well and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hugh, we knew when we embarked on this course of action there might be consequences. We’ll face them as a family. Ram will understand why we did what we did. The important thing is you love Devona, don’t you?”

Hugh exhaled loudly. “
Oui
,
mon frère
, I love her.”

Antoine smiled. “That’s all there is to say then.”

If only it were that simple!

***

When the Saxon women, Boden and Brigantia in tow, entered the Great Hall for the evening meal, Hugh could see they’d all been weeping. He and Antoine stood to greet them. The ladies seemed nonplussed and not sure where to sit. Their arrival had caused something of a stir among the assembled populace of the castle.

“Come, sit here with us,” Antoine indicated.

“My Lord Antoine,” Devona replied, “It isn’t our place to sit at the head table with you and your brother. We should be seated lower. Your people will be offended. We’re Saxons, and—” She was glancing around nervously as she spoke.

Hugh wanted to reassure them, but protocol demanded he defer to Antoine, the older brother. He need not have worried.

“Lady Devona, my brother Hugh and I will be offended if you don’t sit with us. You’re guests here, and will be treated as such.”

It elated Hugh when he saw the anxiety leave Devona’s face for a moment as she smiled and took her place next to him, but she frowned again when she saw how nervous her mother was.

“Lord Antoine,” Lady Wilona stammered, “I haven’t sat at table for many a long year—I—”

Antoine held out his hand. “Lady Wilona, I insist you take your place by my side.”

Wilona bowed to Antoine and sat beside him. Aediva sat on his left side and Bemia sat on Hugh’s left side. The dogs lumbered off to investigate the other people in the Hall, Boden hobbling on three legs, and instantly made friends.

Hugh’s heart was full. As the meal progressed he felt he was sitting with his family. He longed to press his thigh against Devona’s and was elated when she moved slightly along the bench so they were touching. Her heat surged through his body.

“This is the first meal I’ve enjoyed for five long years,” Devona sighed as she licked the succulent juices of
La Cuisinière’s
roasted chicken from her lips.

Hugh made some mundane remark about the quality of
La Cuisinière’s
food as the subtle aroma of lavender tickled his nostrils, but what he was wondering was if Devona would taste of lavender if he applied his tongue to the task of licking her lips. Blood rushed straight to his groin and he felt his face redden as she glanced from his face to his thighs, as if reading his thoughts.

She smiled and said, “Lord Hugh, my family and I can’t thank you enough for our rescue. I know things may become difficult for you as a consequence.”

He wanted to tell her that all would be well, that she would be his and no one would ever come between them, that he would succour her family, that he would love her passionately every day of their lives together, that he would cherish her—but all that came out of his mouth was, “Possibly.”

He clenched his fists below the table and wanted to bang his head on the wooden surface. He could tell she was perplexed by his answer. “What I mean is—
oui
, there may be repercussions, but the important thing is that you’re all safe, for the moment.”

He groaned inwardly at his own ineptitude when fear flashed in Devona’s jade green eyes. “For the moment?” she murmured.

Hugh swallowed hard, praying this time he would say the right thing. “You’re all safe, Devona. I won’t allow Renouf to hold sway over any of you ever again. Antoine has a plan to investigate his activities in Normandie when he comes here. It may be the key to his undoing.”