The Maiden and Her Knight (24 page)

Traveling by lesser roads, they would head south for the coast and drop hints that they intended to take their quarrel with the baron to the king. After laying a false trail, they would sail to the Welsh coast and land in one of the isolated bays, and go to Connor's home. She hoped that a brother's love would overcome whatever animosity Caradoc felt toward Connor and then, if Connor's brother was anything like her beloved, Rennick would find himself facing not just one dangerous opponent, but two.

If Caradoc refused to help, they would live however they could. At least they would be together, and they would be free.

She took one last look around her chamber, her heart sorrowing for the home they must leave behind, before she went to the door and listened.

All was silent. “Come along now,” she whispered, herding Edmond and Isabelle out into the corridor.

Hurrying down the stone steps and into the hall, they made little noise. The soldiers sleeping in the hall were not disturbed, and although the dogs awoke, they raised no cry. These were friends, after all, not enemies.

As they passed by, she imagined the uproar when they were found to be gone. Rennick would rage and send out patrols searching for them. He would question the servants close, but none of them knew anything. Surely he would realize the reticent lady of Montclair was quite capable of planning an escape on her own.

Nevertheless, as they continued into the dim kitchen, a pang of sorrow and regret struck hard. She might be putting her people in danger, and it was possible that her brother might never see his inheritance again.

The cooking fire was banked, and more dogs slumbered by its lingering warmth. Although the cooks were the first to rise, she paused a moment at the storeroom to snatch a loaf of bread and some apples before sneaking into the courtyard behind her brother and sister. The night was clear, the stars twinkling in the heavens unobscured by clouds, and over Montclair hung the silver orb of the moon to light their way.

And to shine down into the courtyard. “Stay in the shadows of the walls,” she whispered, pointing at the sentries. Although their watch was over the outer walls to the area beyond the castle, figures surreptitiously moving about the courtyard would be cause for them to raise an alarm.

Mercifully, it was but a short way to the stables and they reached them without being seen.

As they crept inside, she inhaled the scent of hay, horse and leather. For a moment, it was like being back
in the hut with Connor, and a reminder of the joy of that afternoon.

The eyes of a cat, there to keep the mice under control, gleamed in the darkness before it slowly padded away. Disturbed, the horses made some sounds, but again, not enough to wake the stable boys or grooms slumbering in the loft above.

She led her brother and sister to the pile of old beams. Moving as quickly and silently as they could, she and Isabelle and Edmond shifted them until they could see the small opening, barely big enough for Isabelle to squeeze through.

“Go to Connor,” she whispered. “If there is trouble—if I am not there by the time you see the first light of dawn—go without me.”

Isabelle looked about to protest again and Allis turned to Edmond. “As the earl of Montclair, you must see that she does.”

His expression was enigmatic as he nodded his agreement.

She was asking so much of him! She silently vowed that one day, she would see him in the great hall of Montclair, enthroned on the dais as the earl, with all his land, rights and privileges restored. “I shall see you in a little while.”

Sniffling, Isabelle nodded and crawled through the small space. Without a word or backward glance, Edmond did the same.

It was enough that he had agreed to come with them, she thought while she struggled with the heavy saddles. She truly didn't know what she would have done if he had refused.

She tied the pouch to her saddle, then led the three horses into the courtyard. The noise of their hooves
was loud in the silence, and they would be easily seen in the moonlight, but there was nothing else to be done, so she boldly—and swiftly—walked toward the gate.

“My lady?” one of the two guards asked as he moved to block the entrance. It was Bob, and he was clearly puzzled, as well he might be.

“Yes, it is I.”

“Where are you going?” the other queried, and she realized it was Harry. “It's night.”

“I know that.” She drew herself up and spoke in her most imperious manner. “I am the lady of Montclair, so what I do or when is none of your concern. Now let me pass.”

Exchanging uncertain looks, they were about to step aside when the sight of something behind her made them hesitate.

Then Rennick DeFrouchette's voice echoed through the courtyard, loud and mocking. “Where are you going, my lady of Montclair?”

C
aught. Caught like a criminal at the gate of her own home. Caught by Rennick, the man she hated. Caught, perhaps never to be with Connor again. Never to feel the bliss of his embrace and the warmth of his love.

As despair settled over her, she slowly turned and saw Rennick marching toward her, a torch in his hand that he must have taken from one of the sconces in the hall. It illuminated his rage, and his sword dangling from his belt slapped against his thigh. He wore a cloak, but no tunic, just a shirt, breeches and boots, as if he had dressed in haste.

A swift glance at the wall walk showed the watchmen moving about, kindling torches and rushing to see what was afoot in the courtyard below.

Please, God
, she prayed as Rennick bore down on her.
Let Isabelle and Edmond see and take flight. Do not let them wait or try to rescue me.

“I asked you a question, my lady. Where do you think you're going?” Rennick repeated as he came to a halt in front of her.

She must be as courageous as Connor and as strong as her father had been in the prime of his life. “Obviously, I am going out of Montclair.”

“At this time of night, and with three horses? I think not.”

The door to the hall opened and more soldiers, as well as servants, came out, curious to see what was going on.

Let them look. She didn't care. All that mattered was buying time for the others to get away. “I don't particularly care
what
you think. I can do as I wish. I am not a prisoner here, am I?”

“Ah, Lady Allis, you are indeed a spirited creature, like a pretty bird,” Lord Oswald remarked as he sauntered toward them. He, too, had obviously dressed speedily, for his long indigo tunic was not fully laced. He had on his cloak, and like Rennick, a sword belt and scabbard. His tone changed, to one cold and unfriendly. “A bird who needs her wings clipped.”

She didn't hide the scornful curl of her lip as she looked at the man who had betrayed her trust. “My lord, this is just another lovers' quarrel, so I suggest you retire before you get a chill. The night air is dangerous for one of your age and girth.”

Oswald's eyes flickered in the torchlight and his expression soured. “My lady, have a care—”

“No!
You
have a care, my lord. As I am still the lady
of Montclair, you would be wise to let me leave.”

A dumbfounded Auberan joined the small crowd. “What's amiss?”

Rennick ignored him. “Why do you have three horses, my lady? And perhaps it has escaped your notice, but it is the middle of the night.”

“Since I am not yet your wife, I do not have to answer your questions or explain myself to you—or Lord Oswald, either.”

“Yes, you do, for the king has made me your guardian.” He came close, smiling cruelly. “You cannot escape the law, Allis. Not you, or your brother or sister. So where are they, eh? It would be better for you, and for them, if you tell me quickly and do not try my patience further.”

He was right; she was bound to him by her father's will. But she would say nothing.

Lord Oswald's lips turned slowly up into a smile even more cruel than Rennick's as he looked past her. “Calm yourself, Baron. Here they are.”

Agony drowned her as she turned.

Their eyes wide with fear, Edmond and Isabelle stood just outside the gates, Rennick's soldiers behind them. Rennick must have ordered some of his own men to watch the gate, lest she try to run away.

She had left this too late, seen the truth too late, changed her mind too late, had faith in Connor too late. What remaining hope she had disappeared like the morning mist in sunlight, leaving only dark despair, as Edmond and Isabelle were marched into the courtyard.

She took a step toward them, but Rennick grabbed her and pulled her back. Although his grip tightened on her arm, he could have wrenched it off before she would give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain.

“Sir Connor has already departed, my lady,” Oswald announced. “He rode off before nightfall. Indeed, he was most impatient to be gone. Perhaps he decided you were not worth the trouble, after all.”

She straightened her shoulders and raised her brow haughtily, every inch proclaiming her unbeaten and unconquered.

“Traitor” was all she said, but never had she infused a single word with such scornful derision.

Oswald's fat hand struck her cheek with a slap that resounded through the yard and sent her staggering back. She tasted blood, hot and coppery, as she struggled to regain her balance.

“You can't do that to my sister!” Edmond cried as he broke away from the men holding him and ran toward them.

Rennick took hold of her again and tugged her back, and she collided hard with his chest.

“Shut up, boy,” Oswald thundered, stepping between them. “You will all do as you're told.”

Edmond skittered to a halt. “I won't! I'm the earl!”

As she struggled in Rennick's grasp, Oswald moved with surprising speed. He grabbed Edmond by his tunic and lifted him up, until they were nose to nose, Edmond gasping for breath.

“What arrogant pride did those parents of yours breed in you all, eh?” Oswald snarled. “Your sisters do not know their place, and you, boy, had better learn when to keep quiet!”

“Take your hands off him, you…you Judas!” Allis shouted, twisting and turning and trying to get free.

“Judas, am I? So accuses Jezebel,” Oswald jeered. “The whore dares to upbraid me? At least when I make a plan, it
works
.”

He let go and Edmond fell to the ground. Still gasping for breath, he rubbed his throat. She watched, full of rage and hate, despairing and helpless, as Isabelle ran to him and put her arms around him.

While Isabelle helped him stand, Allis's gaze darted to the servants and Montclair soldiers, silently pleading with them to help. They muttered among themselves, upset and uncertain, and Merva started to cry, but they did nothing.

Were they all traitors, too?

Then, as she glared at them, dark anger on her brow, she realized with guilt and dismay why they did not come to their aid. It was the example she had set for them. For too long, she had only observed what was happening between her father and the baron, and rather than make trouble, she had stayed silent. She had even acquiesced to the baron's plans, agreeing to the betrothal, rather than fighting him by going to the court and the king. If they did nothing now, it was because that was what she had taught them.

“Connor's gone, just like you wanted,” Rennick growled in her ear as he turned her to face him. One hand still clamped around her, he cupped her chin with the other, squeezing hard and forcing her to look at his loathsome face. “Gone for good. But I'll find him. By God, I swear it. I'll track him down like the cur he is, and I'll kill him.”

“The day he dies will be your last, Rennick,” she vowed in a low, determined voice. “Kill him, and I will kill you, even if I am drawn and quartered for it.”

His eyes flared with burning anger as he let go of her chin. “You are both mad, the pair of you.”

She smiled, for her love made her strong, and not afraid of his rage, or his lust. He could do what he
willed with her body, but he could never destroy what she felt for Connor. “We love each other, which is something you will never understand, and for that, I pity you, Rennick.”

“I don't need your pity anymore than I need your love,” he snarled. “And have a care how you speak, my fine lady, for your brother's and sister's sake.”

“It is for their sake that I do. I was silent too long, and let you work your way into our household. I should have spoken long ago and told my father—nay, anyone who would listen—what a despicable varlet you are.”

Rennick raised his hand as if to strike and she stiffened, awaiting the blow and the taste of blood, when Oswald's voice cut through the air. “Enough! Inside. Now!”

“Take the young earl and his sister to the hall to await my orders,” Rennick commanded his men as he began to drag her there. “Auberan, I leave you in charge.”

She fought him every step, across the courtyard, through the hall and up the stairs to the solar, but it was no use. He held her too tight, and although he didn't strike her, it was only because he needed both hands to hold her.

Once in the solar, he hauled her in front of the table while Oswald closed and bolted the door. Then, as she stood before the trestle table, Oswald took the seat behind the table as if he stood in judgment over her. Rennick went to stand at his right hand, the place of a lackey waiting to serve his master.

She was lost. Those marshaled here against her had too much power—but she would not simply submit. Her pride and her honor and her love demanded otherwise.

“That was a very foolish thing to do, Allis,” Oswald began.

“
Lady
Allis.” She curled her lip as she looked at Rennick. “So, you cannot even be evil by yourself. You must latch onto someone more wretchedly clever, like the leech you are.”

“My dear, you really are too hard on him. He does care for you in his own way, and many women would be grateful for that.”

“I'm not.”

Oswald leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his broad stomach. “What were you going to do, take to the road and live a gypsy life? You and your brother the young earl, and your sister, too?”

“You have no right to question me.”

“I do,” Rennick reminded her, glaring. “As your guardian, I have every right to question you, and to punish you for this, too.”

“Punish me for what, Rennick? What have I done? Nothing except lead three horses to the gate to meet my brother and sister to go riding. Other than that, what evidence have you of anything else?”

“You would go riding in the dead of night, with baggage tied to your saddle?”

“We planned to be riding all day.”

Rennick strode around the table and raised his hand again. Instinctively, she shrank away, then wished she had not when she saw the flash of pleasure in his eyes.

“There is no need to beat her—yet. Like any creature of spirit, she continues to fight the bit,” Oswald said. Rennick lowered his hand, like the trained dog she now knew him to be.

“However, Allis,” Oswald continued, “it is time to
surrender. Be grateful your betrothed doesn't draw a sword and kill you. I certainly wouldn't accuse him of murder if he did. You have utterly disgraced him with your misbehavior.”

She glared at them, all vestige of demure lady gone, consumed by rage. “You would chastise me like a child?”

“Would you rather we denounce you for a whore?” Rennick demanded.

“I love another man, and it is he I want to marry. That does not make me a whore.”

“All this talk of love,” Oswald scoffed. “We are the nobles of Norman England, Allis. We do not marry for love. Whatever fairy stories your parents fed you—along with tales of honor and chivalry—forget them. They are not reality. Reality is marriage for gain and power. Has your lover not gone just as he was ordered? Has he stayed to fight for you? No. He has run off like a thief in the night.”

“He did so because I asked him to.”

Oswald raised his heavy brows. “So why were you going after him? Really, my dear Allis, you lie even more poorly than Rennick.

“Here is the way of things. Because you have dared to choose another man who is not your betrothed, because you have given another man your body, Rennick could kill you, and not a nobleman in England would speak against him. They have sisters and daughters to dispose of, and marriage for anything but alliances and gain will not sit well with them.”

“Then let him kill me if he dares, the coward!” she cried, quaking with rage at the injustice of a world ruled by men.

Oswald shook his head. “He will never kill you, Al
lis. You make so much of love, you should be pleased that Rennick dotes on you like a besotted boy. Indeed, I have long considered his affection for you a great weakness on his part, but you see, my dear, he simply cannot let you go. Nor should he, now. I told you, his coming marriage into the family of Montclair has already garnered more respect than anything else he has ever done.”

Allis swiveled on her heel to glare at Rennick. “Do you hear how he speaks of you, this
friend
of yours? Where is the respect you crave by marrying me?”

Rennick's face reddened as his gaze darted to Oswald as if he half agreed with her—but in the next instant, he had her pressed painfully against the wall, his furious, impassioned face inches from hers. “I am going to have you, Allis, one way or another. Only then will my blood cool! Then I will be free of this spell you have cast over me. Afterward, when I am no longer enthralled by you, you will be nothing more to me than a well-born brood mare, the mother of my sons.”

His lips took hers, cruel, domineering, in what was lustful possession, while his hands roughly pawed her body.

Fear and loathing gave her strength. She splayed her hands on his chest and shoved him back. He stood staring at her, but with a different look on his face from any she had ever seen before, as if he were suddenly lost and alone. Vulnerable.

She seized the moment. “We both want the same thing, Rennick—freedom. Let us go. You will have Montclair, and you will forget me.”

That moment of vulnerability might have been a trick of the light, so quickly was it replaced by the fa
miliar cold-blooded deliberation in his cold blue eyes. “No.”

“I will not marry you,” she declared. “I will refuse to take your hand, or say the vows, or wear your ring. I will spit in your face instead.”

“You seem to forget we hold your bold brother and charming sister, too,” Oswald observed.

The fiery blood throbbing through her chilled at those words, and cold spears of terror stabbed her. Here was
her
vulnerability, made of flesh and blood.