wcEND.rtf (35 page)

Something odd stirred inside of Isabel. It wasn't exactly jealousy but an emotion she couldn't quite define. She didn't want to one-up Détra, she wanted to know what it felt to have the voice to sing, to enthrall people with a song like her mother had done, if only this one time.

Gathering her courage, she went through several songs in her mind, discarding one after the other, even though
she knew anything she sang would sound weird to them. Finally she settled on an old song her mother used to lov
e
—"Coming In and Out of Your Life," sung by Barbra Streisand.

With butterflies fluttering in her belly, she rose and everyone's attention turned to her. Hunter cocked his head and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"I will try a new song," she said. "One you probably have not heard before. I hope you will like it."

She took a deep brea
th
and fixed her gaze on Hunter who pulled his chair back to better look at her. And then she began singing, at first tentatively, then with more assurance as she realized Détra
'
s foreign voice was indeed very beautiful and very melodious.

The heartfelt lyrics, lyrics only someone in the throes of an impossible love could truly appreciate, spoke of loving someone you must leave, of having found the greatest love of your life knowing it couldn't last, of lies and secrets and good-byes. It was her feelings, her emotions out in the open for all to see. Until now she hadn't understood the poignancy of the old melody.

When the
l
ast words came out of her mouth, tears rolled out of her eyes, and utter silence blanketed the great hall.

Hunter rose and took her hands into his. He heard her emotional outpouring, but did he understand she was saying good-bye? Did he understand that every minute she was with him she would be saying good-bye
?

"I love you," she whispered.

Hunter squeezed her hands into his, not knowing why her words of love were filled with such sorrow. His heart constricted. Détra should not be sad, loving him should not hurt her, and her lack of memories should not make her feel incomplete.

Deus!
What had he do
ne to his lady wife by withhold
ing the chalice, and therefore her memories?

A disturbance at the front doors distracted Hunter. He turned and one of his men-at-arms rushed in accompanied by a stranger. Nay, not a stranger, Hunter realized, stiffening, but the same messenger who days ago had brought him Lord Reginald's summons.

What did Rupert want?

"My lord." The man bowed before him. "Hawkhaven is under attack. You must come to our aid immediately."

He was under no knightly obligation to Rupert. The vow Hunter had made to his father to protect Rupert had been made on the assumption Lord Reginald would reveal his father's name. He had not, and thus Hunter need not respond to Rupert's summons.

Gervase came to stand beside Hunter, waiting for his command.

"My lord," the messenger continued, noticing his reluctance. "Lord Rupert was not in the castle when the Scots were sighted this morning. Messengers were sent to different locations to try and find him, but he might not return in time. We are undermanned at this moment. We need your help. Please, you cannot refuse our plea."

"Who sent for me?" Hunter asked.

"Sir Thomas."

Hunter had always liked Thomas, Hawkhaven's premier knight, since Hunter was a young squire, and he and the people of Windermere held no blame for Hunter and Rupert's animosity.

"
Gervase," Hunter called. "I want you to remain behind, in case this is not an isolated attack. We are close enough to Hawkhaven to be in danger." He then listed a few names he wanted to accompany him. "Have the men ready to leave at my command."

He turned to Détra. Her face was a mask of worry. "You shall be safe here," he said.

"But what about you, Hunter?"

"I am a warrior, Détra. I know a little bit more about battles than I know of paintings." He smiled to reassure her.

"I must make preparations." He kissed her, then with his mind already on the upcoming battle, Hunter left the great hall for the garrison's quarter, where Jeremy would help him don his hauberk and collect his weapons.

He saw Détra again in the torch-lit bailey where his men gathered, waiting for his signal to leave. She stood on the front steps of the castle, looking more beautiful in a glowing gold dress than he had ever seen her. Bringing his destrier close to the bottom of the steps, he kissed her good-bye.

"Pray for my safe return, my lady wife."

"I have something for you," she said and tied a green veil with golden threads on his mailed arm. "Promise me you will come back to me, Hunter."

He pulled her close to him and kissed her again. Knowing she would be here waiting for him gave him the strength to leave her.

"Wait for me, my lady wife. I shall come back to you."

AFTER a restless night, half spent in vigil, Isabel woke up at dawn break. Staring up at the canopy of her bed, she remained unmoving for a while, her thoughts on Hunter. Isabel was not one to pray but she had spent half the night begging protection for Hunter of every angel and saint known to her.

With a heavy heart she rolled her head to the side and clutched the sheets in the empty space beside her. While she lay here warm and safe Hunter was putting his life in danger.

Jerking me covers aside, Isabel rose. Hunter's safety, though a priority, was only one of her worries. While she impotently waited for her life to unravel, Détra could be at this very moment finding a way to return to her own body.

Isabel hated this uncertainty. Hated that she was at the mercy of Détra's wi
l
l, and above all hated the thought she
might not see Hunter again, might never know what happened to him.

A sharp pain squeezed her heart at the thought. Isabel shook her head, as if by doing so, she could scatter away her worries. As she came around the bed, she saw Maude preparing her morning drink. Quickly donning a chemise she found on top of her garment chest, Isabel walked to the table.

"I am so worried about him, Maude."

"He is in God's hands, my lady."

Maude's fatalism shook Isabel. She had always believed in free will and making her own choices and forging her own path, and yet she had been ready to accept that she could do nothing to change her fate. Hunter's life might be in God's hands, but she was sure he'd be fighting for it with every skill and every ounce of power he possessed. Why should she do differently with their fate and future? Her mind might have conceded fate had played a big part in what had happened to her, but her heart refused to accept she and Hunter could never be together.

Isabel didn't know who was the woman with Hunter in the vision of utter happiness the chalice had revealed. For all she knew it could be her. After all, what she'd learned of
Détra
surely indicated it wouldn't be her. Of course, Isabel couldn't be sure Détra wouldn't have a change of heart once she returned and fulfill Hunter's heart wish after all.

God forgive her, but
she
wanted to be the one to make Hunter happy. More and more, Isabel realized the answer to her plight must address the wishes of all of them— Hunter's,
Détra
's, and hers. And the chalice was the link between them.

But with the chalice safely buried in the depths of the
lake, her chances of getting to it would be less than finding a needle in a haystack.

Maude handled Isabel a cup, and at the first sip Isabel was swiftly reminded of the potion's use. Guilt, desperation, and longing mingled inside of her already overtaxed heart.

"Why did he have to go, Maude?" she asked. "It was not his castle under attack, he did not have to fight someone else's battles, especially not Rupert's." She knew she was being petty, but she didn't need this added complication to her situation. And of course were Hunter still here, no
th
ing would
'
ve changed. On
l
y that she might've found the courage to te
l
l him me truth about herself, and together they could search for the chalice.

That is, if he didn't lock her in the tower, thinking she'd gone insane.

"My
l
ady, Lord Hunter is a warrior who has survived bigger battles than this one. He is also an honorable man. He fostered at Hawkhaven. He knows most of the people there. He would not have refused their plea for help."

"What if he knew of what went on between Rupert and me? Would he still have gone?"

"Oh, my lady, let us pray he shall never find that out."

Maude was right. If that secret came out, no one would benefit from it. But even without knowing it, a confrontation between Hunter and Rupert might still happen. There was no lost
l
ove between the two men, on account of Rupert's father. And despite what Isabel had made herself believe she wasn't totally convinced Rupert had accepted
th
eir affair was over.

"I do not like Hunter in the midst of a battle and I sure do not like that he is at Hawkhaven with Rupert. Something tells me I should not trust him."

Maude was conspicuously silent. Isabel turned to her
and under her questioning gaze, Maude finally said,
"
You should have never trusted him."

Something in Maude's voice made Isabel wonder. She lowered the cup to the table. "Do you know something about Rupert that I should be aware of?"

Maude shook her head. "I know the Lord's commandment says, 'Thou sha
l
t not bear false witness against thy neighbor
,
' but I never trusted Lord Rupert." And then almost as an afterthought she added, "He was present at the hunting outing where Lord William died."

Was Maude implying Rupert had anything to do with William's death? Even if Rupert had the motive and opportunity to kill Détra
'
s former husband, would he have done so? Had he wanted Détra that badly? Isabel's heart sank. Would he kill Hunter to have Détra now?

There must be another explanation. Isabel couldn't bear the thought she
m
ight
'
ve sent Hunter to a killer's lair without warning. "Rupert could not have been the only one at that hunting outing."

"He was the only one who pursued the widow not a day after the husband was buried," Maude said. "Not that anyone mourned Lord William's death. Stil
l
. .."

"You should have told me about your suspicions, Maude. I could have at least warned Hunter of the extra danger that might be awaiting him at Hawkhaven."

"And what would you have said, my lady?" Maude asked. "Would you have told Lord Hunter the truth?"

If she'd had to choose between Hunter's safety and Détra's secret, she would
'
ve had no doubt which one she'd choose.

"He must never learn of your secret, my lady," Maude insisted.

Isabel was surprised at Maude's vehemence. "Are you thinking of my reputation or my
f
uture with my husband?
"

"Both are important to me and everyone in Windermere, but it is not only your happiness at stake here, my lady. Lord Hunter has a gentle soul in the heart of a warrior. We respect his strength and his kindness. Unlike your former husband, Lord Hunter will protect and care for you and for Windermere's people."

Having lived a very independent life, Isabel had never considered how closely interlaced these people's lives were. They depended on Hunter for protection, for guidance, for justice. They relied on their lady for stability, encouragement, and harmony.