Siege Of the Heart (15 page)

“Indeed. I am just impatient to have this business over with.”

Jerome laughed. “Well, who would not if the prize was Lady Isabel?”

10

Isabel crouched before the wooden trunk set along the wall of her room. Dresses and blankets spilled out over the edge like candle wax. Where was it? Ignoring the way her thighs burned in protest, she rifled through the chest until her hand reached the bottom. Her fingers finally closed over a linen-wrapped piece of vellum. She pulled it out and sat on the bed, tucking her legs underneath her. She pushed aside the fabric, exposing her mother’s will, delicate as an eggshell.

She read over the familiar words, her gaze tracing the curve of her mother’s hand where she had signed at the bottom of the document. The words were as she remembered. Her mother’s personal effects were hers, the land her father’s until his death. He could cede up to half of the holding but the rest was to remain in the family to be split between Julien and herself. There were no stipulations on her marital status that would affect her inheritance, so she probably could donate the lands to the church and cloister herself in a nunnery, if she had more time to put such a scheme into place. Not now, though, with the Normans underfoot. And part of her was frustrated she would not be able to marry on her terms.

When her father and brother had pestered her about marriage, parading eligible men through Ashdown and sending her to court for one miserable summer, Isabel had been happy to point out Englishwomen could not be forced to marry, thanks to laws dating back to Alfred’s time. She did not need to say her mother would have supported her decision. Her father had relented after that, and things continued as they always had, with Isabel managing her father’s household.

She had never realized how much her parents cared for each other until her mother died and her father was forced to go on alone. In the wake of her passing, he had done all he could to be respectful of her memory and the English traditions she believed in. Something Isabel was grateful for since Englishwomen had more freedom than Norman customs allowed. She thanked God her father had not been so close-minded as his countrymen, but she also knew she would not be in such a delicate position now if she had heeded his wishes to marry.

Her thoughts rushed to Kendrick and his proposal. He must have harbored feelings for her since they were playmates. Only the dramatic upheaval caused by the Norman presence in England gave him the opportunity to voice what would have otherwise been forbidden to say. Her father had his limits—he would never sanction a union between his daughter and a landless soldier, even if she wished it.

Kendrick had always been a close friend. There may have been a time growing up when she might have fancied the Englishman, but she was certain her feelings for him now were nothing more than sisterly affection. Nevertheless, Isabel momentarily indulged herself, wondering what life would be like with Kendrick at her side. She tried to imagine him kissing her, his kind, familiar face filled with passion, but it suddenly contorted into the dark planes of Alexandre’s, the hunger in his icy eyes still sharp in her memory. She ran a shaky hand over her brow.

When she and Alexandre returned to the castle, she had locked herself in her rooms. She told Matilde her head ached, which was not completely untrue, and Matilde had promised she would not be disturbed so she could rest. Matilde was as good as her word and Isabel had plenty of solitude to think about what happened yesterday as the afternoon wore on.

Was it as disastrous as it seemed, for Alexandre to kiss her? She did not realize such a simple act produced such a rush of…feeling. Yet, if the man could irritate her before such intimacies, how much more chaos would he be able to inflict on her afterward, now armed with the knowledge he affected her?

What she really wanted to know was what prompted Alexandre’s actions. At least she knew Kendrick’s feelings were honest and pure, but the Norman was different. She had sensed his interest in her before, but had wanted to think it only his concern for carrying out his orders. After what happened, she could no longer believe that to be true. Was he simply a man acting on instinct or had he felt the same need, the same desires, she had?

Isabel reminded herself he was a soldier of fortune, seeking to better his lot by fighting for William. By his admission, he was only to be her escort. What if he wanted the Dumont lands for himself? Mayhap he saw her only as a conqueror’s prize. She shook her head. Unacceptable.

With a groan, she rewrapped her mother’s will and repacked her trunk. When she finally left the sanctuary of her rooms, she sought out Matilde. She was overseeing the cleaning of the main hall. Two servants scrubbed the tables, a bucket of water between them.

“Matilde, I would speak with you if you have a moment.”

She greeted Isabel with a smile. “Certainly, my dear. How is your head?” She reached Isabel’s side and squeezed her hands.

“Oh, it is much better. Some rest soothed the pain,” Isabel lied.

“I can hardly speak with you these days.”

“I know. All my time is taken up by Alexandre.”
 

“He is just doing what he feels is right.”

“Of that I am not so sure.” She eyed Matilde. “I heard he has taken quite an interest in my past.”

“Yes, he has been most curious about you. He wanted to know if you took after your mother.”

She frowned. “He did? What did you tell him?”

“I told him you are just as spirited and beautiful.” Matilde continued, “Alexandre also wanted to know if you had many suitors and I told him—”

Isabel raised her hand, silencing the woman. She did not want to hear the details Matilde unwittingly had passed on to Alexandre, as it would only increase her anger. “Matilde, if he asks you any more questions like that, please let me know.”

Matilde grew concerned. “Was I wrong to tell him about your mother?”

Isabel sighed. She could not fault Matilde for answering the Norman’s questions. “No. But we need only to be courteous. He does not need to know everything about me. He may be able to force me to go to London, but he should respect my privacy.”

Isabel looked around the room and froze. “Enough of that. He is coming over here.” Alexandre had just come in from the bailey. His gaze immediately sought out Isabel, and he strode toward them.

Isabel winked at Matilde and raised her voice, pretending not to see Alexandre advancing. “That simply will not do,” she berated her in French. “We must go back and clean all of the tapestries.”

“All of them? Uh, yes, my lady.”

“I shall come with you this time, to make sure it is done properly.”

Matilde nodded in feigned shame, finally catching on to Isabel’s scheme.

Alexandre cleared his throat. “Pardon, but I would ask how you are recovering, Lady Isabel. Better, I hope?”

Isabel did not have to pretend to be startled. Her body was drawn as tightly as a bowstring, and the rumble of his voice beside her was enough to jangle her calm. “Alexandre, I did not see you there. Yes, I have recovered. And how has the afternoon found you?” she asked, unwilling to look him in the eyes.

He stood much too close to her. “
Très bien
, thank you, my lady. I would like it very much if you would walk with me before supper. Perhaps the fresh air—”

“I am afraid I must decline the offer,” she said more harshly than she had intended. She saw the humor in his eyes. He knew she did not want to be near him. Curse the man! In a more controlled voice she said, “I have just been informed of a most pressing household matter I must take care of.”

“These household matters do seem to require much of your attention.” Alexandre’s gaze was a challenge, but she decided she did not care.

“If you will excuse us?”

“If I must. I look forward to seeing you tonight,” he said with a short bow.

Isabel inclined her head and led Matilde out of the main hall. Once they were well away from him, Isabel heaved a sigh of relief and sank against the wall of the corridor. “Well, that got rid of him for a few more hours.”

“He is doing you a great courtesy, giving you all this attention.”

Isabel did not appreciate the reproach in Matilde’s voice. “Is that what you think? No, he only wants to keep me under his watchful eye. He wants me too afraid to pass beyond the castle walls.”

“But my dear, in truth, he has been most understanding.”

“Understanding? How can you say such a thing? He understands naught. About the castle, about the way things are run, about…”

“You?” The old woman chuckled. “Yes, my dear, he understands you too well.”

Isabel froze. “Then he should know better than to follow me around like a dog. He is driving me mad. Asking questions… All the time, questions! I simply cannot put up with him anymore.”

“If you will only go with him to London and get this whole business over with—”

“Go to London? No!”

Matilde’s mouth flapped open. “But you must…”

“Matilde, do you not see? Once I am in London, William will marry me off to one of his men. I am to have no choice in the matter, and certainly no future,” Isabel said.

“You always knew you would marry someday. Women, much younger than you, get married all the time.”

“My father gave me the gift of choice, so I could marry for love. And now that he is gone…”

“My dear, my dear,” Matilde said soothingly as she gave Isabel a hug. “This William, mayhap he will surprise you. You are worrying yourself unnecessarily. And your father will put it all to rights when he returns, that I’m sure of.”

Isabel pulled away from her and shook her head. “That is just it, Matilde.” The concern in the older woman’s face twisted her gut. She could not lie to her any longer. “He is not coming home.”

“Nay, my lady, you are just upset. You will see.”

“No, Matilde. How I wish that were the truth. Julien sent a messenger here with the tidings. Father died of a fever after being injured in the fight at Stamford Bridge.”

Isabel held Matilde’s hands as the old woman’s eyes closed in pain and watched as Matilde waged a war with her emotions and won. “Your father,” she said roughly, “was a good man, and he will see to you from heaven. Everything will turn out for the best. You have to trust in that.”

Isabel forced herself to smile, a strange sensation. “Mayhap you are right. But you cannot blame me for putting it off for as long as possible, can you?”

“Certainly not. But Alexandre will have to be told eventually, and, if he finds out for himself, he will be furious.”

“I do not care.”

“I am not so sure…”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just the way the pair of you have been sparring… I thought…”

“Thought what?” Isabel prompted, not liking where Matilde’s thoughts were likely taking her.

“I simply think you care more than you say.”

“Do not be ridiculous. He is everything I hate in a man. Pompous, arrogant, insufferable.”

“As you say.”

* * * *

“Going out, my lady?”

Alexandre’s voice accosted her as soon as she entered the main hall the next morning.

She wanted to ignore him, but courtesy demanded she acknowledge the knight. Even when her heartbeat thrummed in her chest as his gaze skirted over her figure before it came to rest on her face.

She had to remind herself he could be a powerful ally, especially now when she could not count on her father. Nor had she forgotten how he and his men contributed to their victory against the Welsh. When she went to William to confront him about her future, mayhap Alexandre would vouch for her and profess his confidence in her capabilities. It was possible, she supposed, but only that. Alexandre was still a man, and, further, William was his liege lord. She could never compete with that.

Isabel walked over to the Norman, his eyes still trained on her. “As you see.” The stable master had told her Hardwin could be ridden again. She had dressed with greater care than usual, selecting a simply cut riding gown made of deep blue lamb’s wool. Over it, she wore a fur-lined mantle, with her mother’s brooches on each shoulder.

“Then I should be happy to accompany you.”

She waved him off. “Please, do not trouble yourself. Captain Thomas has already agreed to join me.”