Part 17 (1/2)
Servanne's heart jumped upward to lodge at the base of her throat. ”In truth, my lord, he only called himself Lucien Wardieu, as Biddy has said.”
”Did you not question his usage?” Nicolaa asked with a sneer. ”A man committing crimes in the name of your betrothed should at least have roused some curiosity.”
Servanne looked at her calmly. ”I spoke to the outlaw as seldom as possible.”
”What about when you were beneath him? Did you not ask what name he would prefer you cry out?”
Servanne flushed a deep red but held her tongue, fully expecting Wardieu to rise to her defense. After a long moment, when nothing was forthcoming over and above Biddy's renewed sobs of despair, she looked at De Gournay, only to find him returning her gaze as calmly as if they were discussing a recent repast.
The Wolf had said he and Nicolaa were lovers. If it was true, it would explain Nicolaa de la Haye's open hostility. It also made Servanne wonder what kind of man would bring his mistress to a meeting with his future bride.
”b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” she said evenly. ”I called him b.a.s.t.a.r.d. What would you call a man who used you and flung you aside like a sc.r.a.p of soiled linen?”
Nicolaa arched a raven brow. ”I might call him lover lover, if he was any good.”
Servanne's cheeks were flushed, her hands were balled into fists. There was the bitter, coppery taste of blood in her mouth from where she had bitten down on the fleshy pulp of her lip, but instead of tearing Nicolaa de la Haye's throat out, shred by shred, as she longed to do, she startled everyone present in the chamber by sinking slowly down onto her knees in front of De Gournay.
”Good my lord, I am most deeply grateful for everything you have done on my behalf.”
”My lady-?”
”Even so, I would beg one more small favour of you.”
Wardieu looked down upon the bowed head, a puzzled frown gathering across his brow. ”What is this ... favour?”
Servanne tilted her face upward, the s.h.i.+ne of unshed tears bright in her eyes. ”If you could but spare me the necessary escort to see me safely back to Wymondham, I would gladly compensate both you and your men for any inconvenience you have been caused.”
”You would prefer to return to Sir Hubert's estates?” he asked in amazement.
”I cannot, in faith, remain here, my lord. Not when I am no longer worthy of your ... respect, or ... consideration.”
”You would wish to reconsider the terms of the betrothal agreement?”
”I would wish to release you from all promises, my lord,” she corrected him quietly. ”Your good name must not be besmirched by the stain my own now bears.”
Behind them, Nicolaa de la Haye smiled with satisfaction. Her smug good humour lasted only until she saw Wardieu lean forward with studious care and bring Servanne de Briscourt up off her knees.
”I appreciate your concerns for my good name, Lady Servanne, but be a.s.sured I am well able to defend it myself. As far as I am concerned, nothing has happened to make me any less determined to share it with you in holy wedlock.”
”I ... do not want your pity, monseigneur.”
”I reserve my pity for fools and cripples. In my opinion, you are neither. Nor should you be held accountable for the actions of a depraved outlaw. I am satisfied the terms of the marriage contract have been met. It is my wish that we put this unpleasantness behind us as quickly as possible and look only at what lies ahead.” He paused and tucked a finger beneath her chin. ”Unless of course, it was never your wish to marry me, in which case, I would not force you to do so now against your will.”
Servanne's senses were reeling. ”You would allow me to return to Wymondham?”
”My lady, if, in the few short days remaining before our wedding is to take place, you cannot reconcile yourself with the idea of becoming my wife, I will escort you back to Wymondham myself.”
Servanne searched the depths of his eyes for signs of duplicity, for any hint he was someone other than the man he claimed to be ... but if there was something there, it eluded her. It gave her little comfort, however, for evidence of him possessing any other shreds of emotion eluded her as well and she was left with the chilling impression he knew only hate and anger.
”I ... will accept your hospitality, of course,” she whispered. ”Until then.”
”Good. Then it is settled. My men are making preparations, even as we speak, to break camp and return to Blood-moor with all haste.”
”Bloodmoor?” Biddy gasped. ”In this weather? I absolutely forbid it!”
The blue eyes turned crystalline as they moved slowly from Servanne's face to focus on Biddy.
”I cannot allow it,” she said, displaying an unusual disregard for self-preservation. ”I cannot conceive of such a heartless notion. Why, we have just escaped a wolf's lair where our lives and safety were in constant peril! Can you not see my poor lamb is exhausted? Would you ask her- even though her legs wobble with the effort required to simply stand before you-to clamber up upon a horse's back and endure what additional torments such a heinous journey would surely extoll?”
”You ... forbid it, you say?”
Biddy thrust out her prodigious bosoms stubbornly. ”My lady requires rest and solitude, peace and undisturbed sleep if it is to be hoped she may begin to recover from her ordeal.”
Wardieu clearly looked as if he might like to knock one or both fists against the side of Biddy's head, but he nodded, barely perceptibly at first, then with somewhat more conviction as a precipitous crash of thunder shook the abbey to its foundations.
”The weather shows no sign of improving, as I had hoped,” he conceded. ”And even with Lucifer at our heel we would not reach Bloodmoor before midnight. Very well, we will take advantage of Abbot Hugo's kindness one more night.”
A second nod to someone who had arrive unseen in the doorway, brought Sir Roger de Chesnai hastening into the chamber and dropping instantly onto one knee to greet the Lady Servanne.
”Sir Roger!” She smiled with genuine affection for the first time in a week. ”You are recovered from your wound?”
”'Twas nothing, milady. A pinp.r.i.c.k scarce worth a leech's fees.”
”You will remain with Lady Servanne and see to any comforts she may require,” said Wardieu. ”Deliver my warm regards to Abbot Hugo and tell him we will be vacating his field at dawn; have him also prepare either a coffin or a litter for the sheriff at that time.”
”Aye, my lord. It shall be as you ask.”
”Lady Servanne,” De Gournay bowed to her again. ”Your own guard will remain with you for the night. I trust their presence will ease your mind of some burden.”
”Thank you, my lord,” she whispered. ”I did not mean to imply-”
But he was gone, swept out of the chamber with a swirl of his blue silk mantle. Nicolaa de la Haye was a pace behind, taking two steps to each one of his, her voice reduced to a low growl by anger.
”Are you not going to ask her about the Wolf? You were bristling with questions the whole morning long, and now you mean to just walk away?”
”The old witch was right,” he said thoughtfully. ”She was in no condition to be badgered.”
”Badgered?” The disbelief in Nicolaa's expression caused her to slow her steps. ”Every hour we delay gives him an hour more to plot against us. Why, in heaven's name, did you not send your men back to Thornfeld immediately upon your return with the chit? Why did you not attack and burn them out when you had the chance?”
”Because there was no chance, Nicolaa. He would undoubtedly have moved his camp the instant we rode away. What is more, he and his men have had eight weeks to familiarize themselves with the forest. They could have picked my men off one at a time and laughed out of the sides of their mouths while doing it.”
”But the girl-maybe she knows something. Maybe she knows where they would have moved. And if she does, we must have the information from her now.”
Wardieu stopped and glared. ”And if she knows nothing more? Will not your incessant questions and jealous ravings only rouse her to wonder if there was more to it than a simple kidnapping?”
”You speak to me as if I were a child!”
”You are acting childish, you leave me little choice.” He stared down at her glowering countenance a moment longer, then walked back the few paces to where she stood. ”There will be no more games, Nicolaa. No sly remarks. No taunting, no teasing. No gossip. The girl is here and I intend to marry her as planned. I intend to legally a.s.sume t.i.tle and deed to Sir Hubert's fiefdom and, by G.o.d, if I choose to bed her before, during, or after the wedding ceremony, there is absolutely nothing you can say or do to stop me. In fact”- he cupped her chin in one of his hands and forced her to raise her blazing green eyes to his-”if these jealous rages of yours persist, I will not only make a point of bedding her every hour upon the hour but I will do so with you bound and gagged and lying alongside us. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
Nicolaa's thick black lashes lowered slightly. ”Perfectly, my lord.”