Chapter Thirty-four

L ouise de Burgh stood in the open doorway of her hall, staring in horror as man after man rode through her gate to crowd into the bailey. She had been told Lord Fitz Hugh had come, but told too late to close the gate against him. Not that that would have kept him out, she realized now as his men continued coming, fifty, sixty, still more, and she saw the giant among them, sitting his huge destrier that refused to stand still, staring directly at her.

She saw one man she recognized, Sir Eric Fitzstephen. At least he was not dead. But what of the other two who had come with him yesterday? Did their absence mean they had not survived the ambush?

God help her, she must have been mad. She had known it not long after she had sent her men to attack those knights. She had sent another to call them back, but it had been too late. And now her overlord had come for retribution, and ’twas all Searle of Totnes’ fault, that wretched cur. If he had not told her Lord Ranulf would give her to him did he but ask, and that he would ask, she would not have been driven by anger to do something so stupid.

Of course, she could blame William, too, for proving so difficult and refusing to marry her. Had she been wed already, Searle of Totnes could not have upset her. But she could not blame William. She loved him. In time she could have convinced him that they were right for each other. Now it was too late.

Or was it? Lord Fitz Hugh might have come with a small army, but could he know for certain what she had done? How could he know if she did not confess? The men who returned yesterday, few in number, would never admit their guilt either. And William, who might be guided by his cursed honor to tell all, did not know. She need only.

“Louise de Burgh?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. He had not dismounted, had not even drawn near. His voice carried across the yard like a trumpet.

She would have to shout or approach him to answer. She preferred to do neither, and for now simply nodded.

“Is this all the men you have, lady?”

Louise glanced about to see that everyone had come out to get a look at the new Lord of Clydon, even the servants. But of course they had naught to fear of him; at least they did not think they did. William was there, too, standing with the men-at-arms, and frowning at Lord Fitz Hugh’s manner. These were the men Fitz Hugh referred to. She had only twelve here at Keigh Manor after losing ten yesterday.

Before she could nod again to answer his question, Lord Ranulf demanded, “Which of you is William Lionel?”

Louise came down the steps then, at a run. “What do you want with Sir William?” she cried. “He was not even here yester…day…”

’Twas too late to take back the words that as much as condemned her, if the look Lord Ranulf gave her now was any indication. He dismounted at last, and Louise paled to see that he really was a giant, and coming straight toward her. She would have run were she not paralyzed with terror that he meant to kill her right then.

“I would have sworn ’twas not you, lady. When Eric suggested ’twas more like to be your man Lionel acting on his own to eliminate any competition, I was inclined to agree, even though he did not recall meeting the man.”

Ranulf had not expected Eric to show up just as he had dispatched half his men to escort the prisoners to Clydon and was about to ride for Keigh Manor with the rest. But as Eric had told him, there was no point in his waiting any longer for the outlaws to emerge from the woods on the east side, when the patrol from Warhurst had done so. So he had ridden straightaway to join Ranulf with the rest of their men, and after hearing the outlaw’s story, was quick to defend the widow.

“She is beautiful,” Eric had told him. “Did Searle not fall to Cupid’s bow so quickly, I might have asked for her myself. A man could easily be driven to murder for want of her, and this knight of hers no doubt saw his chances threatened when he learned why we were there.”

So Ranulf had been tempted to believe, but it just was not so. He should have stayed with his instincts that would doubt any lady first and foremost, simply because they were all deceitful and capable of treachery. And she was lovely, this one, with her corn-silk hair and eyes like sapphire, young, and afraid—with good reason. He ought to hang her, but he supposed his little general would object to that.

“What is this about, Lord Fitz Hugh?”

Ranulf turned to face the knight he had noticed earlier, and assumed rightly that this was Sir William Lionel. Tall and handsome, with sooty black hair and keen gray eyes, he supposed the man could easily inspire passion in a lonely young woman. The question was, who wanted whom?

“Your lady decided she had too many suitors and ought to kill off a few,” Ranulf replied in disgust.

“That is a serious charge, my lord.”

“She is guilty all the same.”

“Not until proven, and I will stand her champion to decide the matter.”

Ranulf’s interest perked immediately. He looked the man over more carefully. He was big enough, near six feet, brawny enough, and willing. Ranulf had been denied the fight he had waited half the night and all morning for. Would he have it now?

“Against me?”

There was a start of surprise, but Sir William quickly recovered and tendered a curt nod. Ranulf’s smile came slow and was chilling in its implication. Lady Louise promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around William’s neck.

“You cannot fight him, not him! Please, William, I did naught—at least he cannot prove it. And Lady Reina will protect me.”

“Stop it,” William said harshly and set her aside.

“But he will kill you!”

“You should have thought of that ere you acted with your usual childish impetuosity.”

He turned away from her then and walked to the center of the court. Ranulf nodded to Eric to restrain the lady should it be necessary and went to join him. There was a short wait while Sir William’s squire went to fetch his helmet so he would be as fully armored as Ranulf, but once it was donned, Ranulf drew his sword and attacked.

The hope was strong that for once he had a worthy opponent, and William Lionel did acquit himself well at first. His movements were swift, his instincts good, his blade or shield blocking every swing. But that was all he was able to do. As usual, Ranulf’s offensive gave no opportunity for counterattack. His powerful blows continued nonstop until Lionel was brought to his knees by sheer exhaustion, unable to raise his shield even once more.

He bowed his head, awaiting the death blow, too done in to overmuch care. He heard Ranulf sheathe his sword instead and looked up with surprise. The giant was grinning, his breathing labored only the slightest degree. William shook his head in bemusement and chagrin.

“It does you no merit to enjoy this win, when the lady’s fate hung in the balance.”

Ranulf laughed at the man’s misconception. “I have done naught to turn your belly, sirrah. The lady’s fate was set whether you fought for her or not.”

“Then why did you accept my challenge?”

“I needed the exercise. With my usual partner bedfast thanks to the lady’s treachery, ’twill be long ere I have someone capable of standing against me. But you do not ask after her fate. Did you love her so little?”

“I love her not at all. She might be comely, but she is a spoiled, vain child and much too willful for my liking.”

“Did you know she wanted you?”

“Aye, but I never encouraged her. Far from it. I did all I could to show her I was not interested, including begging leave to depart her service. She would not believe me.”

“Then why stand her champion?”

“She might be a spoiled little bitch and foolish in the extreme, but I am still her man until she releases me.”

Ranulf bit back another chuckle at the rancor in those words. “Very commendable. I can use a man of such convictions in my own service, are you willing. But as for the lady’s fate, Sir William, you need have no further concern. She will be wed to my own man who will assure she makes no more mischief. She may not like it, but she will learn loyalty to her overlord even if her bottom must suffer in the teaching.”

“A lesson she should have had long ago,” William snorted in full agreement.

Ranulf turned away then, tossing his helmet to Kenric. His eyes happened to light on the widow, who was too far away to have heard what was said of her. She was pale, anxious, and fair trembling with fear now that her champion had failed to acquit her through combat. But as he approached to tell her of his decision, he watched her change with her first clear sight of his face. Her expression softened, her body relaxed, her eyes turned sensual in appraisal, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. He had seen that look too often to mistake it, the look of a woman about to seduce a man to get what she wanted.

“Do not even think it, lady,” he growled at her and turned about again.

She could wait until Searle was recovered enough to come here and tell her her fate. She could stew with worry in confinement until then, which was far less than she deserved for the lives she had cost. Had her mischief not led to other discoveries, he would not be even that lenient.