wcEND.rtf (28 page)

The cortege continued on its way to the graveyard led by the priest carrying a wooden cross. Rupert, Hunter, and Détra followed the coffin, then the neighboring lords and friends, Hawkhaven's knights, men-at-arms, and servants, and finally the villagers and their lit candles.

The usual laments and wails from the widow and family were oddly absent. Rupert, Lord's Reginald only kin, walked in abject silence. The priest made the sign of the cross over the burial spot, sprinkled it with holy water then dug a shallow trench in the shape of a cross. As they prayed, a couple of villagers dug on the spot marked by the priest and Lord Reginald's coffin was lowered to his final resting place. The lit candles were placed around the grave and later a tombstone would be added.

People started to move back to the great hall where food and drink would be served for the guests and in the bailey for the villagers. Hunter lifted his head and caught sight of Rupert speaking with that despicable character, Toothless, who years earlier had insulted his mother's name and paid for the affront with the loss of his front teeth. As if sensing his gaze, Rupert lifted his eyes to him. The hatred and resentment in Rupert's glare were so intense it seemed to form a wall between the two men.

Hunter never understood why Rupert detested him so. Hunter had been the one forced to live under the shadow of Rupert's privileged status as the lord's son. And even now, in the end, Rupert had won. His father had died without acknowledging Hunter.

As if reading his mind, a de
ri
sive grin curled Rupert's lips.

Hunter had to fight the bitter resentment forming inside. He would not allow Rupert and his father's cowardice to nullify all he had accomplished on his own. He was no longer a poor, needy village boy. He was a man who had carved a niche for himself, garnered admiration and gratitude from knights and lords alike who fought alongside him, even the king himself, who awarded him Windermere Castle. He was lord of his own lands and he was wedded to the beautiful woman of his heart.

Apart from his father's name, Rupert had naught over him.

Turning his back on Rupert, Hunter led his lady wife back to the castle.

It was time they went back home.

******************

RUPERT FOLLOWED HUNTER'S RETREAT WITH SUCH HAtred he was sure his heart would turn to stone if he did not sway his gaze away.

"I wager you will be g
l
ad to see him gone," Edmund, called Toothless, the perennial squire, hissed through the gap of his front teeth.

"I should think you shall shed no tears either." When Hunter had knocked out Edmund's front teeth those many years ago, he might have taken what little wit the man had possessed. Still, Edmund had served Rupert well and blindly. A trait much preferred to wit when one was involved in secretive matters as Rupert was.

"He should not have been here at your father's funeral," Edmund said. "I understand not why you allowed it, my lord."

"I had my reasons." He did it for Détra. So he could be with her under Hunter's nose. It had not happened the
way he had planned, though. She had avoided him like the plague, mayhap fearing her husband's ire. One more reason for Rupert's foul mood. As if the death of his father was not enough.

"Look at him." Edmund spit through the gap of his teeth. "Strutting about as if he belongs in our midst. Were it not for his witch mother the bastard would never have left the village where he belonged."

Staring at Edmund from the
c
orners of his eyes, Rupert wondered whether the lackwit suspected who might be the bastard's father. Rupert had never voiced out loud his fear that his father could have sired Hunter, and when Lord Reginald had chosen to remain silent even as he brought Hunter up to live in his castle, Rupert had done the same. He had wondered, however, and feared that one day Hunter would be acknowledged and steal his inheritance.

That was why Rupert had returned home from the castle where he was fostering at the time Hunter came to live here. He had wanted to give Hunter no chance to worm himself into his father's grace. He grinned, pleased with himself, for he had done exactly that. Lord Reginald had died carrying his secret to his grave.

Still, wanting to make sure Edmund knew naught of his thoughts, Rupert asked, "What is your meaning, Edmund?"

"Black magic, of course, my lord. How else would Hunter be so fortunate in his endeavors?"

"Black magic?" Rupert asked, wondering if Toothless had gone insane.

"It is believed Hunter's mother made a pact with Satan." Edmund lowered his voice at the last word as if fearing the Prince of Darkness himself would hear him. "And that Hunter is the devil's spawn himself."

That
Rupert could well believe.

Nodding knowingly, Edmund continued, "It is clear the power of his chalice derives from malevolent influences."

"What chalice?"

'
The one he so jealously guarded his entire life. It was given to him by his mother days before she delivered her soul to the devil at the hour of her death. That was the day he came to be at
H
awkhaven Castle. Coincidence? I think not."

A chalice with magical powers. Could it be? For the first time Rupert took Edmund's babbling into consideration.

"Have you seen it?"

Edmund jumped. "The devil?"

"Nay, you idiot, the chalice."

"Aye, once. A very valuable-looking piece with sapphire stones a village's witch could never be in possession of by legitimate means."

Edmund's story gave Rupert pause. There was a certain truth in the fact that fortune had always smiled upon Hunter. Since the day the bastard had set foot in Hawkhaven he had excelled, even without any prior skills with swords or horses. He had absorbed knowledge like a sponge, with ease impossible for such a basebo
r
n youth. And after gaining his gold spurs he had earned the king's gratitude by saving the man's life. And as a reward, he had wedded Détra.

Could it be true? Could the chalice be the source of Hunter's good fortune? The exhilarating thought took hold. Outwitting Hunter had been a difficult challenge Rupert had faced his entire life, but stealing the man's power in the form of a chalice should be child's p
l
ay.

Oh, he would enjoy seeing the proud Hunter lose everything he had so undeservedly obtained.

"Why have you never mentioned this to me before?" Rupert asked. Had he
known earlier he could have ab
sconded with the chalice years ago, thus avoiding all the problems he faced now.

"I guess I forgot."

Forgot.
Rupert sighed. That would be just like Edmund. Should he truly put stock in such an idiot's words?

And yet the fact Rupert had never heard or even glimpsed the chalice would not necessarily mean it did not exist. Surely knowing how invaluable the chalice was, Hunter would not broadcast its existence to the world.

But there would be one other person who would know if it truly existed. Détra.

******************

WITH HUNTER DOWN IN THE STABLES MAKING THE last preparations for departure and Maude just about finished packing their belongings, Isabel paced the floor, wondering what she should do about Hunter.

She'd known him for a very short time but she'd never felt so close, never cared so much, never lusted so madly for a man before. If there were any way she could be with Hunter without having to steal his wife's body and life she would do it without a second thought. But was there another way? And how would she find that out?

She was reaching for straws here. There was no other way but return Détra to her body as soon as possible. Yet the thought she'd be returning a woman who couldn't or wouldn't even want to love Hunter like he deserved to be love
d
—
l
ike Isabel would love him had she the chanc
e
— drove Isabel insane.

What could she do then?

Could she be unselfish enough to try to fix the situation so that Hunter and Détra could be happy together?

Her stomach turned into knots. Good God, she didn't know if she had it in her.

And even if she did, what could she do? Tell Hunter
about Détra and Rupert's relationship? Would he forgive Détra? Would Détra want forgiveness? That would be the biggest hole in her plan. She could do nothing to change Détra'
s
feelings.

Frustration ba
l
led up inside of Isabel. Cruel fate played a trick on all of them. No one could be happy in this story. Isabel had to give up Hunter, the man she loved, or steal another woman's life to be with him, both options not exactly a direct path to happiness.
Détra
and Rupert couldn't be together as they obviously wanted to be, for Détra and Hunter's marriage could not be annulled now that it was consummated. Hunter was married to a woman whom he loved but who didn't love him in return.

What would happen when Détra returned to her body? What would she do? Would she leave Hunter for Rupert? Isabel couldn't condemn the man she loved to such an unhappy ending. If only Détra would give Hunter a chance, she'd see what a wonderful man he was. But Isabel had no right to tel
l
Détra
whom to love.

The best Isabel could do would be to play this out as closely as it would have happened without her presence. And to do that she needed more information about Détra. Depending on what she learned she'd find her course of action.

She moved to where Maude was finishing with her packing, and bent over the chest. "How well do you know Détra?" Isabel asked, realizing her mistake even before Maude lifted and raised her eyebrow in surp
ri
se at her. "I mean," she quickly amended, "how well do you know me? Sometimes I think of myself and the old Détra as two different persons, since I remember nothing of my past."

"It is a peculiar and troublesome situation," Maude said with kind understanding.
"
To answer your question I believe I know you quite we
l
l, my lady. My
m
other was
your nursing maid and we were raised practically together."

Détra and Maude seemed to be of a same age. That should
'v
e made it easier for them to be close, maybe even friends, and yet there was that difference in class between me two of them. How would that work in the Middle Ages? Isabel needed to make sure she could trust Maude's answers. "Have I ever confided in you? I mean, not with castle matters but with private concerns."

"You have confided in me from time to time."

"Have I ever told you I loved Rupert?"

Maude hesitated. "Not in those exact words, nay."

"In what words exactly? This is very important, Maude."

"Well, you thought him charming and handsome. He made you laugh." Obviously Détra hadn't had much to laugh about while married to that horrid William.

"But have I ever said I loved him?"

"Nay," Maude said. "You to
l
d me you had chosen to wed Lord Rupert because you wanted to make the choice this time around and not be forced to wed a man you knew naught about."

That was exactly what Isabel wanted to hear. It seemed that in a time when women had very little choices,
Détra
had hoped for some control over her life, especially after a dreadful marriage experience. Isabel couldn't blame her, but she couldn't condone the decisions she made concerning Hunter also. Was the woman blind? Couldn't she see what a wonderful man he was?

"Had I not lost my memory," Isabel continued, "and we were in this very same situatio
n
—
m
y marriage to Hunter being consummated, and me having made the earlier decision to be with Ruper
t
—
w
hat would I do now?" Isabel knew she was putting too much stock in Maude's
words, but all she wanted was reasonable doubt that would justify her meddling in Détra'
s
life.

"I know not, my lady."

So much for her expectations.

Time to tackle the subject from another angle. "How easy would it be to annul my marriage to Hunter?"

"Nearly impossible."

"So, this marriage is valid and pretty much indissoluble."