The Dumont Bride (16 page)

T
he guards alerted him that visitors approached. Climbing to the ramparts of the keep, Christian watched the small party as they left the woods behind and came ever closer to his gates. His hair whipped around his face as he tried to discern their identity. He looked at the knight next to him, who shook his head. The group was still too far.

Although only November, the winds foretold of an early and harsh winter ahead. The villeins and serfs had redoubled their efforts to make necessary repairs and all in Greystone worked to prepare for the worst.

The entourage turned onto the road leading to the gate and ’twas then he noticed the royal banner. The three golden Plantagenet lions, lying
passant guardant
on a field of red—Richard’s new coat of arms. But it could be any of the royal family members traveling under that flag.

The riders moved too fast for it to be Eleanor. The king was too busy regaining control of his lands on the Continent to journey to England now. That left only one of Henry’s royal get.

Prince John.

“I suppose he has had enough of kissing his brother’s royal arse?” Luc asked dryly. “They fight and forgive at an alarming rate.”

“But their forgiveness extends not past their bloodlines. The rest of us are held to pay for our misjudgments.”

Christian turned and spit in the dirt. That was how his father had lost all.

“You should greet him, Chris. He takes offense at the little gestures.”

“I suppose I must. And Emalie will have heard of their approach by now. We should greet him together.”

“Fatin will not be in attendance, my lord.”

Christian stopped and looked at his friend. “Why not?”

“I have heard too many stories of his coveting other men’s wives to allow her in his presence.”

Christian nodded, realizing that Fatin’s exotic appearance and earthly sexuality would draw John’s attention like a fly to honey. He did not blame Luc for trying to protect her from the prince’s lust, for what John wanted, John took. It did not matter if that was a woman, a castle or riches. And mere men could not naysay the Plantagenet prince.

“Unfortunately, Emalie must greet him, but I will send her to her chambers. She has been feeling ill of late.” Emalie was never sick, but if this would ease the way for her to be freed from her attendance on John and his entourage, he would use it.

“Very good, my lord. They pass under the gate now—we should go.”

Christian left the parapet and made his way to the great hall. As he expected, Emalie was there, directing servants to prepare refreshments and rooms for the ar
riving guests. If she knew who visited, she gave no indication. She smiled when she noticed him watching and held out her hand to him.

“Visitors, my lord.”

“I saw them from the battlements and came to greet them.”

They walked in front of the raised dais and waited there. He thought it would be best to inform her of who her guests were.

“A royal visitor arrives.”

Emalie looked at him. “Eleanor?”

He shook his head. “I could not see clearly, but I believe it to be John.”

Her shaking could be felt where her hand lay on his arm. He looked at her, but she would not meet his gaze. Even her breathing changed and he was concerned over the differences in her. As he watched the visitors come closer, she seemed to regain her composure.

“What business does he have here, my lord?” she asked.

“I know not, but we will find out soon. Ah, my lord,” he said, bowing before the prince. “Welcome to Greystone.”

“Dumont,” John said, nodding his head. “I thank you for your welcome.” John stepped nearer to Emalie and reached for her hand. “Countess, you look well. And
enceinte?
Charming!”

Christian watched as John bent to kiss Emalie’s hand. He could feel her reluctance to his touch.

“My lord, what brings you here?” Better to find out sooner than later.

“I bring greetings from my brother the king and my mother, who could not visit.”

Knowing Richard’s preference for Anjou, Aquitaine
and Poitou, Christian doubted the king would ever visit his English kingdom again. Eleanor traveled to wherever she wanted whenever she chose.

“Look, William. Not only is the countess as beautiful as ever—” John spoke louder and waved to one of the men in his retinue “—she is bountiful as well!”

A large man, about his own age, dressed all in black and gray, came forward out of the group and nodded. Emalie trembled again. Something was not right. Christian noticed that Alyce had appeared at Emalie’s side and Walter was standing close by, as well.

“Emalie, my dear,” he said. “My felicitations on your fertility. William, what say you?”

“My lady,” William said, “how do you fare?”

At first, the man’s eyes were hostile and angry, but when he gazed at Emalie they softened with a concern that was not appropriate for another man’s wife. For his wife. He watched as William’s gaze swept downward and fixed on her growing belly.

“Have we met, sir?” Christian decided it was time to interrupt.

“We have not, my lord,” the man answered without taking his gaze off Emalie. “But I know Emalie.”

Christian bristled at his familiarity and at using her name and not her title. A pain began in the pit of his stomach and grew as he noticed John’s glee over both Emalie’s and his discomfort.

“How so?” He looked at Alyce and nodded to her. Emalie appeared close to fainting and he was afraid to think of the reason.

“DeSeverin’s family and the Montgomeries come from the same part of Anjou. William has known Emalie since they were children,” John answered for the man.

Seeing how pale she was, Christian knew he needed to get her away from the prince. “My lady? I see you have once more overworked yourself. Please retire until later.” Emalie blinked several times and then focused on his face. He smiled at her, hoping to reassure her and called to Alyce. “Alyce, see the countess to her chambers and let no one disturb her.”

Alyce moved close to Emalie and supported her steps away. Walter followed close, making certain no one interfered.

Christian invited John to the table, but the prince watched until Emalie was out of the room. He exchanged some curious glances with DeSeverin before the two took their seats. Although he had Fitzhugh serve his best wine, Christian tasted it not due to worrying over Emalie’s reaction to John and William.

“When is the babe due?” John asked after he had drunk some of the wine and torn off a chunk of bread.

“The midwife says the spring. But being the countess’s first birth, she says it’s difficult to tell.”

“The spring? I think not,” John offered, raising his voice louder.

“Pardon me?” Christian looked at John.

“What think you, William? I think the countess looks to be further along than that. Do you agree that she will not make it past Candlemas Day?”

William grunted and raised his cup in a mock salute.

A part of Christian knew exactly what this was, but he refused to fall into their game without knowing the rules and the prize. Well, he could guess the prize— Emalie and the titles and lands she brought to her husband.

Before he could go any further, Luc approached his chair. Bowing to the prince, Luc leaned in and whis
pered. The words struck fear in his heart, but he knew that he could not allow these vultures the satisfaction of knowing how they had terrorized Emalie.

“My lord,” he said to John, “there is a problem I must deal with. My steward will see to your needs until dinner.”

He gave John no chance to stop him, for he stood and followed Luc through the kitchens to the back stairs and up to their chambers. Without knocking, he entered and found her on their bed, her face bloodless and her breathing labored.

“The midwife?”

“I sent for her immediately, my lord. And for Timothy.” Alyce hovered close to her mistress.

And all he could do was sit by her bed and wait. He did so and, as he waited, he took one of her frigid hands in his and rubbed it. She would not meet his gaze, but she mumbled something under her breath over and over. Her words were too faint to hear.

Soon the door opened and Enyd of the village entered. He thought to argue about leaving, since he was the husband and there was not a place on Emalie’s body he had not seen or touched. But this was not the time to stake his claim. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her in the care of the women.

Dinner was a solemn meal, for in spite of John’s bids to goad him, Christian remained calm. He recognized John’s maneuvers—he had used them many times in battle himself.

Distract.

Disarm.

Destroy.

With no word on Emalie’s condition, he chose to ignore many deliberate attempts to question and insult
both his and Emalie’s honor. Although this was neither the time nor place, he knew it would come. Finally, as soon as was reasonable, considering John’s royal status, he excused himself and went upstairs to await news.

The door opened as he put his hand on the latch and Alyce invited him inside. Emalie was awake, but looked pale and frightened. Enyd stopped him with instructions.

“She is to rest as much as possible, my lord.”

“Of course.”

“Timothy has made some concoctions for her to drink to strengthen her and the babe. Make certain—” she glared at both Alyce and him “—that she follows his directions.”

“Will she…?”

Her stern expression stopped his questions.

“She had some contractions today and a spotting of blood. With some precautions, all should be well.”

He nodded and she took her leave. Alyce left also and he was alone with his wife.

“Do you have need of anything? A drink? Some food?”

She shook her head. Christian saw her eyes fill with tears and he sat down beside her on the bed, opening his arms to her. Without hesitation, she leaned into his embrace. She sobbed, murmuring words of sorrow and pleading for his forgiveness.

“Emalie. Emalie, please, you must calm yourself. Please.”

He held her and rocked her until she finally stopped crying and fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms. ’Twas some time past that before he could slip out and lay her down on the bed.

Never had he seen her like this, not even in the face of his fury had she lost her control. Although he knew that the pregnancy was part of her overreaction, he also suspected that the truth of her pregnancy was the other part. A truth she still would not share with him, but with the prince’s arrival and her reaction to him and his crony, one that became very clear. One that he truly did not want to face right now.

A soft knock at the door caught his attention. It opened a crack and Luc peered inside. Waving him in with a gesture to keep quiet, he waited to hear the reason for this intrusion. Since Luc knew of Emalie’s condition, he knew his friend would interrupt him for only something of importance.

“His Highness wants to speak with you. Now.”

“Can it not wait? I do not wish to leave her alone.”

“If I thought it could, I would never have come here. Chris, he ordered me to tell you he wishes to discuss personal matters with you and it must be now. It sounded so much like a threat, I knew I must tell you.”

Christian slid off the bed, careful not to wake her now that she had calmed.

“Where?”

“As sacrilegious as it sounds, he requests your presence in the chapel.” The disdain was clear in his friend’s voice.

“Will you stay here?” He would not leave her alone.

“Fatin waits without and will stay at your lady’s side. I will stand guard until your return. No one with harmful intent will enter here.”

“My thanks, Luc.”

He walked out into the hall and waited for Fatin to enter the chamber and Luc to take his place in front of
the door. Content that Emalie would not be disturbed, he walked quickly through the keep, out into the yard and into the stone chapel.

The prince waited for him at the altar. Luc was right—it felt like sacrilege to meet this man in this holy place. Motioning him forward, Christian waited for his attack. John did not mince words.

“I have wanted Greystone, nay, all of Harbridge’s properties, for some time. And until my brother and mother interfered, I would have had it, and the countess, as planned.”

John paused and turned to face him. “I will offer you the same proposal I offered DeSeverin.”

Although rage at the prince’s audacity filled him, he knew that his survival—and Emalie’s—depended on him keeping his temper in check. “And that was?”

“You may hold the title and manage the lands, but I control it all and the wealth that comes from it. Oh, and of course, the fair Countess Emalie is mine whenever I choose to avail myself of her most plentiful charms.”

John knew not how close to death he was at that moment. And unwisely, he chose to continue. “William and I had so little time to train her, but I am certain a man of your sophistication has taught her much during these months. I am tempted, I must confess, upon seeing her lush breasts, not to wait for her to drop the whelp before having her.”

Christian’s vision blurred as fury coursed in his veins. A quick death was not good enough; he would draw it out as long as possible. He fought off the drive to kill and focused on how Emalie would survive this bastard with no one there to protect her. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

“I fear I must decline Your Highness’s generous offer.”

“Decline? You do not understand your situation here, Dumont. I am offering my friendship to you.”

“I am Richard’s man.”

“So am I. I have spent the past few months showing my love for my brother and gaining his forgiveness for all sorts of imagined transgressions while he was so unfortunately imprisoned abroad.”

Christian prayed that God would strike the man dead for sinning so grievously in his house, but it did not happen.

“Did I mention that he has made me his heir to receive all of England upon his death? I should think that you would want to count among those who supported me and not among my enemies.”

“I thank you again for your
kind
offer, but again I must decline.” Christian could stomach no more of this. He turned to leave.