Did Fortin realize what risk he put her in?
She had seen what jealousy wrought between the ladies-in-waiting at her Uncle’s hall.
‘Twas not a pretty sight.
Women could be single-minded, if not vicious, in the competition for love, especially the pampered kind, as Fortin’s stepmother clearly was.
She spoke with the silky confidence of one accustomed to being obeyed.
‘Twas easy to see why.
She was a beautiful woman, with shiny brown hair arranged to perfection in a regal coil atop her head, full lips forever puckered as though expecting a lover’s kiss. Her voice never rose in excitement, though one got the impression she was keenly attuned to everything discussed at the table, cunningly storing it for use at a later time.
Abigail was a force to be reckoned with—not the sort to cross.
Isabeau breathed a grateful sigh of relief when the meal ended and she was free to seek her bed. So much rich fare and the heat of Fortin’s censure had left her spent. All she wished for was to crawl beneath the furs and close her eyes.
She was not aware Abigail trailed after her, until she caught up with her at the top of the stairs. “I admire your fortitude,” Abigail said, falling into step beside her down the hall. “Not many women weather captivity so well.”
“Life is always changing for better or worse.” Isabeau repeated Maddie’s words as firmly as they had been delivered to her. “One must bend or be broken.”
“But you,” Abigail said, positioning herself before Isabeau so that she had no choice but to halt her steps.
“Have managed uncommonly well.”
“I’ve survived and will continue to do so.”
“You’re very sure of yourself for a maid so young.” ‘Twas hardly a compliment, coming from Abigail’s thinly stretched lips.
“Tis not arrogance, only the knowledge that I can do nothing else.”
Abigail’s eyes glittered in the torch-lit corridor.
Isabeau almost took a step back,
then
caught herself. It would not do to show fear. A predator like Abigail smelled blood and went for the kill as soon as your back was turned.
“If you think Dominic will help you, you’re wrong.”
Isabeau blinked, but managed to keep her features neutral despite the candor of Abigail’s attack. “You’re right. I’ve yet to meet kin as loyal as them, excepting my own of course.”
“Then why do you persist in throwing yourself at his feet?” Abigail curled her lip in distain, her voice holding a sharp edge. “Your virtue won’t buy your freedom.”
Isabeau’s spine stiffened. “I didn’t think it would.” She wouldn’t be so foolish as to throw away the one thing that had protected her thus far, just as she wasn’t so foolish as to imagine Abigail’s interest sprang from any concern for her welfare.
“Then you had best keep your distance. Take it from me. He has a habit of letting his passions get the better of him.” With that, Abigail turned on her heel to stalk down the corridor, her back as straight as a blade.
Isabeau stared after her. There was a note of possessiveness when Abigail spoke of Dominic—not the motherly sort one would expect. Apparently Dominic wasn’t the only one who couldn’t control his passions.
It reminded her of the argument Alec and Dominic had had when Abigail and Darcy first arrived. The implications of their conversation, coupled with Abigail’s warning, turned Isabeau’s stomach.
What in God’s creation had Fortin got her mixed up in?
No doubt, ‘twas Abigail rather than the wine that had prompted Alec to order her to the high table this night. Though, she could no more stop Dominic from drinking than a fish from swimming. They had only just met. She barely knew him. Why should he listen to her and not heed his own brother.
If some unholy pact did exist between Dominic and his step-mother, she would prefer not to know, much less become involved. Though, it could hardly be deemed thus when Abigail was the only interested party.
Worst still, Fortin expected her to lift her skirts and provide Dominic with cover. The unconscionable tyrant! How dare he throw her to the hounds! In this case Abigail, who made it perfectly clear she would tear her to shreds if she so much as looked at Dominic sideways.
Which she could not very well help when Fortin forced her to play his brother’s keeper.
***
“God’s breath!
How could you let this happen?” Lord Agnew’s voice shook with anger as he strode for his mount, tethered under a stand of pines at the edge of the wood. “Isabeau was to be safely married by now and out of our hair.”
Barak glowered at his father’s twin bloodhounds, Ram and Talbot. “I told you to wait to tell him until after we returned to the hall.” He handed his longbow to his squire, resisting the urge to cuff both of their dull, black heads, then fell into step behind his father.
He cursed the day Nicola and Isabeau had been dropped at their door. Would that his father showed half the concern for him as he did for his cousins. He couldn’t even enjoy an hour of hunting with his father, without them plaguing him. “Had you betrothed her to one of our allies in the north as I suggested, she’d have been off our hands by now.”
“To Newbury?”
His father paused with his foot in the stirrup, the craggy features of his face turned cynical. “You know very well my sister wouldn’t agree to that. The man’s too coarse for her liking. She jumped at a stranger’s offer over him.”
“Yea, and at what cost? The dowry is gone and one of our best men lost.” Not to mention the fact that he’d almost been killed, though his father showed little concern over that.
“She’ll have no choice now. I’ll have my alliance and she’ll see her daughter wed.”
“If Newbury will take her.”
“He’ll take her.” His father swung into the saddle, with a satisfied smile curving his lips. “‘Tis a valuable alliance, now that he’s fallen out of favor with the King. He needs Guilford’s support from the east to keep the Scots at bay. He dare not risk insulting me.”
‘Twas true. The Scottish King, David, won more and more English land every day, thanks to King Stephen’s inept rule. Warring with his cousin Matilda had divided the country—left it weak. Newbury needed them as much as they needed him.
And that was why, they must get Isabeau back. Still, he chafed at giving that bastard Fortin one more piece of silver. “You’ll pay Fortin’s ransom after what he did?”
“’Tis our only recourse.”
His father frowned down at him. “With Beaufort to back him, Fortin is beyond our reach.”
Barak ground his teeth in vexation as he watched his father canter away with Ram and Talbot following close at his heels.
His father might be willing to bow to Fortin’s demands, but he certainly wasn’t. ‘Twas good coin they could ill afford to waste. If there was a way to get Isabeau back without paying the ransom, he’d find it.
And once he had her back, Fortin was a dead man.
***
A gentle breeze fluttered through the branches of the willows, rustling the faded pink blossoms of the rush and water-mint, sprouting at the water’s edge. Isabeau picked her way over the smooth stones of the river bottom on bare feet, shivering, wading deeper and deeper until her entire body was all but swallowed up.
When Abigail ordered her to accompany the two laundresses from the village she could hardly believe her luck. It seemed Abigail did not trust them to handle her fine garments with care. But Isabeau suspected more devious reasons. Abigail would like nothing better than for her to escape, or drown—anything to keep her away from Dominic.
No wonder Alec was so determined to protect his brother.
She didn’t blame him, but neither was she willing to be a part of his little game.
When Myrtle hustled into her bedchamber that morn to summon her to the high table for breakfast, Isabeau pleaded ill. As Fortin’s prisoner she could not refuse his summons, but he could hardly insist when she provided a viable excuse. Fortin was stubborn, but he wasn’t likely to drag her below stairs if he thought her gagging over a bucket.
But, as fate would have it, on this lovely morn, Fortin’s plague of family intrigues had won her a refreshing dip in the river.
The two maids from the village had declined to join her, scurrying off with their baskets of laundry to hang over bushes to dry. Isabeau would join them anon. In the confusion of preparing to depart for the tournament, Fortin would hardly miss her.
Isabeau scrubbed from top to bottom, lathering herself with the bar of mint-scented soap she’d smuggled in her sleeve,
then
tossed it up onto the grassy bank for safekeeping.
The water chilled her flesh, threatening to turn her limbs numb, but no matter, she welcomed the delicious tingle it brought to her skin. The freedom of enjoying a solitary swim made her smile as she floated on the current under the warmth of the morning sun.
If only she could have used this opportunity to escape.
But ‘twas not possible to steal a horse with the courtyard bustling with Fortin’s men as they prepared to depart for the tourney.
And, without a mount, she was not likely to get far. Being lost with a reliable steed for warmth and companionship that could out run trouble was one thing, alone on foot quite another.
If she’d learned anything from Fortin, ‘twas to have a good plan in place.
When she rolled back over onto her stomach, Isabeau discovered she had drifted further than she ought. Rather than fight against the current to return to where her clothes lay bundled under the willow, she paddled to shore.
The sound of men’s voices gave her pause as she neared a stand of alders at the water’s edge. She huddled down between two slippery rocks skirted with feathery willow moss and held her breath.
“What makes you think he’ll accept your challenge?” A rough voice inquired.
“He’s badly in need of coin. Why else would he risk taking her in the first place?”
Her heart gave a leap. She knew that voice as well as her own.
‘Twas her cousin, Barak.
She opened her mouth to call his name, then remembered her state of undress and clamped it hastily shut.
Rot!
If only she hadn’t drifted so far from her clothes.
‘Twould be madness to reveal herself to Barak stark naked.
He’d surely ravish her on the spot.
Or mayhap not.
He could not marry her to Newbury unless her virtue was intact.
Still, she dared not take the chance. Even if she did trust him, which she did not, modesty forbade her from leaping out of the cattails stark naked before a party of men.
Newbury.
In the excitement of possible rescue and the elation of cheating Fortin out of the ransom, she had almost forgotten about him. But, mayhap she worried for naught. Her parents had already opposed the match. Surely they would do so again.
A tickle on her arm made her look down. A huge water spider was crawling up her arm.
A scream welled up in her throat.
The beginning leaked out, passing through her closed lips in a small squeak. But, she managed to squelch the rest.
“What was that?” Barak said.
“I didn’t hear anything,” one of his henchman said.
“Talbot’s a mite windy today,” the other one said.
Isabeau held her breath, watching the spider, cringing at the feel of its legs on her skin.