Love Never Lies (44 page)

Myrtle nodded, but Isabeau could see she was not pleased.

Isabeau was not pleased either. But she would not see William or Eda harmed, even if it meant sacrificing her future happiness.

Marrying Newbury meant nothing compared to their lives. She could not live with herself if anything happened to them.

William had been a friend to her. He was like a young brother to Alec. She could never let anything happen to him.

If Will behaved rashly—gave Barak any trouble, he might have killed Will already.

Isabeau’s scalp prickled.

A chill rattled through her.

She prayed some of Alec’s preaching had sunk in and Will kept a cool head.

***

Alec emerged from the hall, welcoming the crisp air and the sun on his face. His heart lifted. He was temporarily free from the oppressive weight of being cooped up with Isabeau’s family. But he yearned for more than the brief glimpses he’d caught of Isabeau these past three days. He longed to touch her velvet skin, to hear her laugh.

But, her kin he could do well do without.

Nicola kept aloft with the babe, but Curran plagued the hall night and day. When he wasn’t eating, a favored pastime of his ‘twould seem, as he gobbled every morsel he could fist into his face, he kept up a steady dialogue.

He’d made it his mission to repair the damage between them it seemed, though Alec held no malice toward Curran. ‘Twas Nicola not Curran Alec took exception to, or rather she took exception to him. Curran could talk until he was blue in the face, ‘twould not change a thing.

The smell of fresh air helped to clear Alec’s head, and ease his temper.

He and Beaufort planned to test the seaworthiness of Alec’s first ship with a sail down the river. But first he must find Will, as he’d promised the lad he could come too, if he made himself useful.

But Alec hadn’t seen hide
nor
hair of him in the hall this morn, or last eventide come to think of it. When Alec questioned Beaufort about Will’s absence he accused him of coddling the lad, saying Will was likely off courting some maid from the village.

The sight of William running toward him across the courtyard brought Alec up short. The lad was filthy from head to toe, dirt smudged on his cheek, his brown tunic torn at the shoulder, a small cut crusted in blood above his right eyebrow. The feisty pup had been scrapping again. Hopefully he looked better than his opponent.

“The Lady Isabeau!”
William expelled,
then
sucked in a great gulp of air, making a high wheezing sound as he did. “He’s taken her!”

Alec’s heart clutched.

He could not breathe.

Then something ignited deep inside of him.

His blood began to pump.

He grabbed Will by the shoulders and shook him. “Who’s taken her? What are you saying? Speak up!”

“Her cousin, Barak.
I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Stop her.
From what.”
A sick feeling uncoiled in Alec’s gut, rising slowly to encase his heart.

“Release the boy,” Beaufort said, striding toward them. “He’s not to blame. I put him up to it.”

Alec slackened his grip, but kept a hand on Will’s arm in case he decided to bolt.
“You?”
He turned to glare at Beaufort. “What in the name of heaven do you have to do with this?”

Will and Beaufort exchanged guilty glances.

Alec’s tone grew dangerous. “What have you done?”

“I tried to save you from yourself, but fate would not cooperate,” Beaufort said with a hint of remorse. “Apparently, things have not gone according to plan.”

“What things.” Alec was fast losing patience. “Have you not heard? I don’t have time for lengthy explanations.”

“Not many are lucky enough to find love. But you did,” Beaufort said. “Yet you were eager to throw it all away—out of sheer stubbornness. A more pigheaded man I have yet to meet, save myself.
And your brother, Dominic, and your sire.
Your whole family for all I know. Suffering the same affliction, and as your friend, I felt it my duty to do something about it.”

“I was looking for the ransom, so you wouldn’t have to give up the Lady Isabeau,” Will piped up, finding his voice again, though a little breathless and squeaky. “And I found it!” His voice rose to a squawk, “Stashed under a flat stone amongst some bracken by the river! All would have been well had Barak not found me the moment I laid hands on it.”

“He must have been out there watching and waiting the whole time.
Brazen villain!”
Beaufort expelled.

“He sent word to the Lady Isabeau that he’d kill me if she did not surrender herself,” Will said.

“Sent word?
With who?”

“One of the washer maids.”

“And now he has her.” Alec expelled a curse. Those two half-wits would be the death of him. “How could she be so fool-hearty?”

“She wasn’t, my Lord,” Will gushed forth, eager to come to her defense. “She positioned a man-at-arms in the bracken by the river, but his stealth was no match for Barak’s hell hounds. The man was found out and knocked senseless.”

“It’s just as well.” Beaufort gave a shrug. “You had already decided to give her up. So, it’s probably for the best.”

Alec let go a curse.

“Better that she marry someone else,” Beaufort went on as though he had not heard.
“Rather than wither away in some convent.
With a spirit like that, she will have many fine, strong sons. Newbury might just as well have them as naught.”

“I’ll die before I let that happen!” Alec strode for the stables. The truth was
,
he had not contemplated who Isabeau might marry. He could not bring himself to do so. Instead he’d been satisfied that it wasn’t Newbury, beyond that he had not allowed himself to dwell upon it further. He could not. The thought of Isabeau with anyone but him, caused immeasurable pain.

William raced ahead to saddle Mercury.

“Well said.” Beaufort followed close on Alec’s heels. “We’ll get her back and I’ll marry her.”

“What.” Alec stopped in his tracks, staring at Beaufort as though he had lost his senses.

“It’s the least I can do. After all, she saved Will’s life.”

“She saved his life because he’s my squire and my friend. What has it to do with you?”

“So you don’t want me to marry her?”

“Isabeau is mine!” Alec said with force, then seeing the amusement dancing in Beaufort’s gold eyes he spun on his heel, throwing over his shoulder. “You arse!”

“Where are you going” Beaufort asked, taking long strides to keep up.

“To get her back.”

“Good. I’m coming with you.”

By the time they reached the stable William had saddled both of their steeds.

Alec leapt onto Mercury’s back leaving Beaufort to follow, his thoughts already focused on the task ahead.

There was much ground to cover if he was to find Isabeau before Barak turned her over to Newbury.

Unless Newbury was waiting at the nearest chapel.

In that case, she was lost to him.

A pain shot through his chest, as though someone plunged a dagger into his heart.

He forced the thought from his brain.

The air grew damp. The wind howled louder with every furlong North they traveled. Isabeau gazed skyward from her perch on the borrowed bay palfrey, wishing she had her ermine mantle instead of the grey wool mantle she’d flung about her shoulders. Smoky clouds hung dark and bleak above her head—much like her future if she did not escape.

Barak rode ahead on his chestnut destrier, as bright as a pheasant in the red surcoat he wore over his hauberk. He hadn’t offered to accost her thus far, but ‘twas only a matter of time. The quick sidelong glances he shot her way said he had more on his mind than the rough terrain of the foothills rising in the distance.

The monster twins had rode on ahead to announce their arrival, and ensure they were greeted with the utmost of pomp and civility. Barak loved ramming his position of power down lesser Baron’s throats until they choked. A lesson he’d learned from his father.

Isabeau’s heart grew heavier and heavier, until it felt as though a millstone pressed down hard against her breast. If only she still had the amulet—something to hold forever. But then it would only remind her of what she’d lost. Love and happiness had been so close. She had gazed into it in the deep blue pools of his eyes, and felt it in his tender kiss. Her heart had swelled with it—her blood raced with it.

But now it was gone, like a puff of smoke, replaced with an emptiness where misery crept in, like a hollow ache, threatening to break her heart in twain.

She would never see Alec again.

Worst still, she’d left without saying farewell. He would never know how much she loved him—how she would never stop loving him, despite his objections about her family—despite the fact they would never wed. Her heart was his.

He was the happiness she’d always sought.

And now, would be forced to live without.

But what else could she do?

‘Twas the only way to save Will.

Had she told Alec, he would have stopped her from coming. He didn’t know Barak as she did. Idle threats were not in his making. If she hadn’t surrendered, Barak would have slain Will, of that she was certain.

And she could not have lived with that.

Some would call her a fool, risking her future in such a way. But Will meant the world to Alec. He was not only a servant, but a friend—her friend as well as Alec’s. How could she not save him? What sort of friend allowed another to perish without lifting a finger?

Love commanded action.

She could do no more than obey her heart.

Besides, she had to put an end to it.

She couldn’t allow her family to be the cause of more misery. Why two soulless creatures such as Barak and her Uncle Royce had been unleashed on this earth, or why she had been so unfortunate as to be their kin, she did not know. But as long as it was in her power to disrupt their plans, she must.

Besides, all was not lost.

There was still the possibility of escape.

She wasn’t about to give up yet. She’d slipped from Barak’s grasp once before, and with any luck, would do so again. He’d eventually let down his guard, and when he did, she’d be ready.

He would not win.

As though sensing her malice, Barak turned his head to glare back at her, his green eyes alight with gold flecks of hellfire.

Isabeau did not flinch, but stared back at him, wondering what had gone wrong. They shared the same blood. They were kin. And yet, life had left him a bitter, cruel man. What had tipped the scales to make him so twisted and self-serving—so rank?

It had to be more than jealousy. Had some other awful event made a chink in his soul, leaving a crack wide enough to let evil seep in?