Love Never Lies (24 page)

At the sound of hooves she plunged down in the water slapping the spider off.

She came up shivering with revulsion.

She peeped out between the trunks of the alders to watch them pass.

Barak rode abreast of Talbot and Ram—the monster twins, as Maddie so aptly named them, since their minds were as unbalanced as the sharp features of their face. Their attention, much like the half score of men who accompanied them, appeared trained on Highburn, but they did not turn that way, instead they continued on toward Langley’s lands.

As they moved away, Isabeau began to pick her way over the pebbled surface of the shore below the sloping bank. If she could just reach her clothes in time to hale them, all was not lost. She might cheat Fortin out of his ransom yet.

By the time she snatched up her chemise at the base of the willow they were still insight. She jerked her blue kirtle over her head in all haste. But when she raised her arms to wave, they had picked up speed and were already cantering away.

Rot!

There was no hope of them hearing her now.

 
She lowered her arms, squeezing her hands into fists, her entire body gone rigid with vexation. If Barak knew how close he had come to rescuing her without so much as a coin, he would have been just as distraught.

Or would he?

A note of relish accompanied his voice when he spoke of challenging Fortin. What was he up to?

Barak was not in the habit of upholding family honor unless there was something in it for him. Nor did he fight fair. ‘Twas likely he would land her in more trouble than she was already in.

But how could she stop him?

Attempting to reach Langley’s on foot would prove fruitless, as Fortin’s party had yet to depart and would only overtake her on the way. ‘Twould be wiser to join the two maids from the village ere she was missed. But, teetering on the edge of freedom as she was, she could not make her feet move in the direction of the keep.

Instead, she paced under the willow by the river’s edge, combing her fingers through her damp hair.

If only Lord Guilford had come rather than Barak. Her joy would be complete. Nicola must have received her message by now. Why had she not sent the ransom? Had Lord Guilford forbid it? Nay he would not. He was the truest and kindest of men.

The heavy thud of hooves turned her around.

Fortin galloped toward her across the meadow, his erect carriage and the width of his shoulders identifying him a furlong away.

A thrill ran through her at the sight of him.

Her heart raced in time with the destrier’s feet.

She hastened to slip on her shoes,
then
waited with an air of unconcern.

He pulled Mercury to a halt before her, looking less than pleased. “‘Twill
be
a great blessing when you’re off my hands. We’re ready to depart for the tournament, and you, my lady, are holding us up.” His gaze roved over her slowly, from her damp hair to where the breeze fluttered the hem of her kirtle.

She lifted one brow. “Did your stepmother find our scrubbing lacking?”

His eyes narrowed.
“’Tis I who scoured the bushes searching for you.”

Her lips twitched at the thought of him lifting the corners of the bed-linens with the tip of his sword. She shrugged. “The river looked so lovely I decided to take a swim.”

“And what if someone had come across you so ill-disposed?” His voice held a harsh edge. “What would you have done then?”

This was so near the truth her cheeks flamed. “Hide, I suppose.”

“Hide? With that hair, shining under the sun like a king’s ransom in gold.” He shook his head.
“God’s teeth, Isabeau!
By the time your family come for you, I’ll be as drunk as Dominic.”

Little did he know her family had
come.
Not the family member she wished for, but one did not complain when one was being held against ones will. “If guarding my virtue is such a great hardship,” she said, slashing him a brazen smile, “Let me go.”

He scowled. “Come.” He reached down a hand. “Dominic’s chomping at the bit to be gone.”

“Must you lock me away ere you leave?” she taunted, accepting his hand. “Don’t you trust me to be here when you return?”

“Nay, I do not.” He hauled her up onto the saddle in front of him. “That’s why you’re coming with me.”

Her heart thumped hard against her breast, though in truth there was no place she’d rather be than at the tournament to view the result of Barak’s challenge and know her fate. “Why?”

“’Twill calm Dominic to know you’re there.”

She turned in the saddle to regard him, but discovered his lips so close she quickly did an about face. “What makes you think I wish to help you?”

“‘Tis my brother who needs your help, not me.”

“Yea, but in helping him, I also help you.”

“You hung on his every word last eventide. Is your heart so fickle to change in the length of one day?”

His sharp rebuff took her aback. Against her earlier better judgment she swung round to face him once again. “You bade me attend him. ‘
Twas not my wish!”

“
Yea,
and you readily rose to the challenge.”

She could not believe what she was hearing. ‘Twas almost as though he was jealous. “Dominic is a good man.” She turned away again, expelling a small huff of air. “I thought it only right to return his kindness.” She felt his body stiffen behind her.
“Besides, as your prisoner, ‘tis not as though I could refuse.”

“Nay, you could not,” he said so close his breathe tickled her ear.

A shiver raced down her neck. “What makes you think I’m so fool-hardy as to risk your stepmother’s wrath again?”

“Is that why you pleaded ill this morn?
Because you were afraid?”

“Nay!”

 
“Or is it me you’re afraid of?”

She wriggled away, intent on leaping from Mercury’s back.

He tightened his arm around her waist.

And a good thing, ‘twas a long way down as she discovered after a quick glance toward the ground. She sat still after that.

“Don’t lie to me, Cherie, as anyone can see you’re as fit and ready for a fight as you always were.”

Her hackles rose. “You’re calling me disagreeable? Let me remind you,
who’s
holding who against their will.”

He chuckled next to her ear, sending shivers rippling over his skin. “Look at it this way, if you don’t help Dominic, you’ll be helping Abigail. Is that what you want?”

He was right of course. It seemed she was trapped.
“Very well.
I’ll do it for Dominic,” she said in a conciliatory tone, as though she was doing him a favor, at the same time hating to let him think he was winning. But whatever happened, she must attend the tournament. There was no disputing that. “I shall have to change.”

“I bade Myrtle lay out your clothes.” The confidence behind his words dispelled the belief that she had any choice in the matter.

It made her wonder why she’d imagined a softening in him toward her of late, or any jealously on his part for that matter. Mayhap she wanted it to be so. Despite his deception, she understood why he should want compensation for what her family did to him.

She didn’t blame him, but only wished it had never happened in the first place.

But there was no sense in hoping for what could have been.

Whatever Barak was up to, was certain to drive a greater rift between them.

If Fortin did not hate her now, he soon would again.

 
Barak’s yellow mantle floated behind him like the tail of a hawk as he strode toward his blue domed tent.

Alec stood with Dominic at the entrance of his own tent, his gaze marking Barak’s progress with a mixture of suspicion and regret. Though why he should regret handing over the Lady Isabeau and finally gaining the ransom that was due him, he did not know.

He had desired many women—had many women. Why then was it so bloody difficult to give this one up?

Mayhap ‘twas the frustration of knowing he had kept his passions under tight rein for naught.

Barak had not raised the issue of her virtue once. It seemed the blood coursing through her veins was enough to secure a prosperous match. Any man who married her would gain protection under Agnew’s steel fist.

“You don’t have to do this,” Dominic said. “Let me fight in your stead.”

Alec resisted the urge to laugh. After two hours on the field, smeared in blood and dirt, his breath labored, Dominic was obviously spent. Yet, as usual his courage outweighed his good sense. “Tis a kind offer, but I can fight my own battles.” Alec swept aside the flap of the tent to duck inside, where William hustled about readying his lance and shield.

“Barak may have pledged to pay twice the ransom if you win,” Dominic said, following close on his heels. “But can you trust him to produce such a treasure?”

“Agnew will put up half and Newbury has pledged to put up the rest.”

“Newbury…‘tis a familiar name.”

“His younger brother held Highburn before their family fell out of favor with the King.”

“So, Agnew hopes to strengthen his position in the North through an alliance of marriage.”

“‘Twould appear so.”

“Newbury.”
Dominic’s lips curled in disgust. “I remember him now. No wonder the Lady Isabeau was so eager to believe in a husband that didn’t exist. He’s a battle-hungry tyrant—a traitor, who relishes the taste of blood. And as old as dirt!
Hardly the vision of maidenly dreams.”

Alec tried to ignore the tightening in his gut. He refused to feel guilty.
‘Twas nothing to do with him.
What happened between Isabeau and her family was none of his doing. “Since when have you ever been interested in what goes on in a maid’s head?”

“You could marry her yourself—put an end to their plot.”

Alec plunked down on the wooden bench, sending forth a humorless laugh. “You think the King will be grateful—reward me with enough coin to rebuild Highburn? I doubt that.”

“He’ll be grateful, that’s certain.”

“Not grateful enough.”

“So, you’ll just hand her over to him!” Dominic’s voice filled the tent, overflowing with accusation.
“A man who’s used up three wives?”

Alec found it difficult to believe, if not ridiculous, that Dominic felt such protectiveness for his prisoner, considering their short acquaintance. But then, Dominic had always been too soft-hearted for his own good. Alec’s tone turned wry. “She’s not as fragile as you may think.”

“If you lose, you’ll get nothing.”

“I won’t lose,” Alec said firmly. A vision of fair tresses streaked in gold and expressive grey eyes that could flash like steel or melt a hot tear she tried valiantly not to shed, flashed unbidden through his brain.

Somewhere, deep down in his soul, a voice mocked, ‘you’re fighting for the wrong treasure’.