Chapter Ten

I t wasn't fair to crush the hope in her eyes. But pride kept him from offering her promises. Even if she did find out the truth about her family, Robert could not imagine asking her to wed him if they had nowhere to live.

‘I'll take you back to the other ladies,' he offered.

The devastated look in her eyes was a silent blade between them. ‘Not yet.' Her green eyes met his, and he saw the pain he'd caused her.

‘Am I to understand that, unless you regain Penrith, we will never be together?'

He didn't want to tell her yes. But there was no other answer he could give. He didn't deserve a wife or a family if he had nothing to offer in return.

To avoid an answer, he cupped her nape and drew her mouth to his. He kissed her hard, tasting the salt of her tears. When her tongue threaded with his, he went rigid, aching to be inside her. He did care for Morwenna, and if he had Penrith, then he wanted her at his side.

‘I don't know what will happen, Morwenna,' he swore, ‘but I do know that I would defend your life with my own.'

She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Against his mouth, she pleaded, ‘I don't want this to be the end, Robert. Please.'

‘I'll find a way to gain the king's favour,' he promised.

‘I could come with you,' she offered. ‘King John might agree to see both of us.'

He understood that she believed the king was her father. But King John had fathered a number of bastard children and seemed to have little interest in them or their mothers.

‘I'm afraid Lord Penrith will try to interfere,' he admitted. ‘He has already brought a chest of gold to the king with rents and tithes. And I don't want him near you again.' It was bad enough that the man had threatened her a second time.

Morwenna tucked a strand of her hair back. ‘I have to face the king one day, Robert. If he is my father.'

He was about to tell her no, but then he caught himself. She'd been right earlier—he could not dictate her actions. She deserved the choice of what to do. But he would not compromise on her safety.

‘I could arrange for you to travel to your mother's lands, if that is what you want,' he offered. ‘I only ask that you not remain at the king's encampment while Lord Penrith is here.'

Her expression grew uncertain. ‘I suppose I should speak with my mother first. But if King John truly is my sire, then I will want an audience.'

Robert inclined his head. He pulled her into his arms once more, resting his mouth against her cheek.

But she suddenly pulled away from him. ‘Robert—I will go to my mother's estate for now. But promise me, if you cannot regain Penrith, I want you to come back for me.'

It sounded as if she had no faith and had already given up. He couldn't do that. He'd failed his people once before, and he couldn't imagine walking away from them.

He traced the edge of her cheek, not wanting to answer. ‘Don't think of that now.'

‘You're not coming back, are you?' she murmured. ‘You're going to leave me there.'

He heard the pain in her voice, which was the last thing he wanted for Morwenna. But she also deserved a home of her own and the life of a noblewoman. If he couldn't give that to her, then it was better for her to stay with her mother.

He stared into her eyes, wishing he had another answer for her. But he could only nod. ‘If I cannot retake the lands that are my birthright, then I can give you nothing.'

A tear slid down her cheek. ‘You're wrong. You could give me love, and it would be enough.'

‘Love isn't enough to give us shelter or food,' he argued. ‘We lived like that for two years while we were in hiding, and it was miserable.'

‘For me it was wonderful.' Her voice was soft. ‘I was with you every day.'

He hated hurting her, but she'd asked for his honesty and he'd given it. ‘I don't want to be a failure again, Morwenna. If I have no land and no title, what right do I have to a wife or a family? Especially if I cannot provide for you.'

‘You've already given up, haven't you?'

‘Not yet. I still intend to appeal to King John. It's not over.'

She swiped at her tears, but he could see that she didn't believe him. ‘I will leave for Banmouth in the morning. For now, take me back to tent where the ladies are staying.'

There was an imperceptible distance between them, one he didn't know how to bridge. But he wouldn't lie to her or give her false hope. All he could do was try to find a way to regain what was lost.

Morwenna barely slept that night. She'd learned that Lady Sarah of Holyrede was travelling south later in the afternoon, after her husband had finished his business with the king. The lady had agreed to let Morwenna travel with them, since Banmouth was a stopping point on their own journey home.

An uneasy feeling weighed upon Morwenna, for she sensed that Robert would be unsuccessful in his attempt to gain an audience. The waiting was slowly killing her, but she had not heard from him or seen him this day.

But then, a soldier arrived at their tent and interrupted. ‘Lady Morwenna, you've been summoned to meet with the king.'

Fear and anticipation rushed through her, and she turned back to Lady Holyrede. ‘I have to obey. Lady Holyrede, could someone escort me to the king's tent? And...will you wait to travel until I return?'

The woman nodded. ‘I will send one of my men to guard you. But we do want to leave soon. Make haste if you can.'

‘I won't be long,' she promised.

Lady Holyrede's guard shadowed her when she left, and they both followed the soldier towards the king's tent. She hoped she would find Robert nearby, for she wanted to see him before she left. Her heart bled at the thought of never seeing him again.

As they drew closer to the king, she saw a gathering of men outside the royal tent. Perhaps they were all waiting for King John, but when they saw Morwenna approaching, the men drew back to let her pass.

‘Why are they here? Is something wrong?' she murmured to her escort.

‘I do not know, my lady.' But he drew closer to her side. There seemed to be a heightened sense of anticipation.

‘Wait here,' the other soldier said before he entered the tent.

Morwenna obeyed, wondering why everyone was gathered around. She couldn't see beyond the crowd of men in front of her, but she thought she heard a sword being unsheathed. Her heart began pounding, and then she saw the king emerge from the tent. He went to sit upon a raised dais, but Morwenna could not yet see who had captured his attention. Instead, she was studying his features, wondering if this man could be her father. She could not tell the colour of his eyes, but his hair was dark blond. He did not look in her direction at all, however.

‘Come with me,' the soldier said. He led her through the men to the front of the crowd.

Morwenna covered her mouth to stifle a cry when she saw Robert facing Lord Penrith. They were circling one another, swords drawn.

‘What is happening?' she asked one of the bystanders. ‘Why are they fighting?'

‘Lord Penrith accused this man of arranging his daughter's abduction. The king agreed to let them fight.'

Her heart sank, and she wanted nothing more than to run forward and intervene. This wasn't at all about Gwendoline, she knew. It was about the ownership of Penrith. If Robert died, there was no one except Piers to challenge his right to the land—and the king wouldn't allow it since Piers was a bastard. If Lord Penrith died, Robert could reclaim his lands with the king's permission.

This was the battle that would end the strife, and she suspected it was what Robert wanted. But her gut clenched with fear, for Lord Penrith would not engage in a fair fight. Although he was older and his body was built like a stone wall, he never would have agreed to this fight if he didn't believe he would win.

Robert had told her nothing of this battle. Had he known about it last night?

She moved forward to the edge of the fighters, ignoring her escort, who was caught up behind her in the crowd. The king's soldier who had summoned her and another soldier came to her side, protecting her from the other men who were trying to push their way through. From her position, she caught a glimpse of the king, but he still could not see her at all. It hardly mattered, for her entire concentration was upon Robert and Alfred. The older warrior raised his sword and struck hard. Robert deflected the blow with his shield, and she could see the intense focus in his eyes. He was studying Alfred to find the man's weakness.

The earl offered a thin smile. ‘When you're dead, I'm going to take your woman back to Penrith and give her to my men. They deserve the entertainment.'

Robert's expression tightened with rage. She knew the words were another weapon, meant to spur his anger and make him reckless. But he seemed to gather his control, and he swung his sword at the earl's head. The man dodged the blow, and he renewed his own attack.

‘You're never going to touch her,' Robert said, circling his enemy. ‘And when you're dead, I will free the people of Penrith from your command.'

With that, Alfred swung his sword with brutal force. Robert staggered back as he caught the blow with his shield. He held his balance and struck back.

‘But you're wrong. She came to watch our fight, and my men are with her right now.' Alfred moved to the side, and called out, ‘Take her!'

At that moment, the two soldiers on either side of Morwenna seized her arms. Only then did she realise the king's soldier had been lying all along. There had never been a summons. These were men hired by Lord Penrith, and his hunger for vengeance was clear.

‘You shouldn't be here during a sword fight, Lady Morwenna,' the soldier said. ‘It's no place for a woman.'

‘Let me go!' she called out. Her other escort tried to intervene, but the two men surrounded her, dragging her away. She struggled against her captors, but her strength was no match for theirs. She screamed, hoping someone else would intervene, but no one did.

‘My men will take her now,' Lord Penrith proclaimed. ‘After all, she's only a serf dressed as a noblewoman. She needs to be taught her place.'

‘Leave her alone,' Robert snarled.

Morwenna tried to scream for help, but the other men ignored her as she was pulled towards one of the tents. Oh, God, there was no one to save her now. There were three men, and even if Robert somehow managed to win the fight, there was no time for him to rescue her.

She would have to save herself.

No one made any move to stop Penrith's men. Fury blazed within him as Robert faced his opponent. He let the rage tear through him, no longer caring what happened. All that mattered was winning this fight.

He attacked with all the anger, all the pain, pouring the emotions into his sword. He doubled his speed, knowing that his swiftness gave him an advantage. The earl had girth and strength, but Robert could move faster.

‘How does it feel, knowing you cannot save her?' the man taunted. ‘But then, does it even matter? How many men has she already had?'

The words infuriated him, but he knew the earl was deliberately baiting him, in the hope that he would turn careless. Robert lunged forward with his blade, but before he thrust, he caught the earl's parry with his shield and used his sword to slice at the man's legs.

For a moment, it was as if his mind and his body were one. He stopped thinking of how to fight or where to strike—this time, he fought on pure instinct. His weapon moved in accord with his thoughts. There was no hesitation, only his will to conquer.

Alfred stumbled, and Robert slashed his blade again, silently taking command of the fight. He needed to gain the advantage, and as he dodged another blow, he thought of a way. He needed to raise the earl's own anger to make him reckless.

‘I had nothing to do with Lady Gwendoline's disappearance,' he assured him. ‘But I know who did.'

The earl let out a growl as he slashed with his weapon. ‘Where is she?'

‘She ran away with my half-brother Piers,' he said. ‘So, any thoughts you had of an alliance with another family are over. Morwenna and I witnessed their marriage before a priest.'

The earl's face turned purple, and he heaved his sword with all his strength. Robert caught the blade in his shield, and twisted hard, disarming the man. He threw Penrith's weapon to the side and went after the man with his fists.

The earl swung a punch and caught him across the jaw and ear, which caused a ringing in his skull. Robert struck his own blow, and seized Alfred, shoving him to the ground. For a moment, it was as if he were standing outside himself. He remembered Morwenna's whipping, and the suffering she'd endured.

He wrenched the man's arm, twisting it back while he released all the pent-up anger, striking hard against the earl's face and ribs. He fought back against the coward he'd been as a boy, against the helplessness he now felt as he fought for Morwenna.

And when Alfred lay unconscious, Robert unsheathed his dagger and held it at the man's throat. He raised his eyes to the king, waiting for the sovereign's permission.

Everything within him yearned to kill the earl and go after Morwenna. Her time was running out. But he could not insult the king—not when the monarch held the power to grant him Penrith or deny it.

The king slowly shook his head in a silent command for mercy. Robert sheathed his blade and stood up from the earl's unconscious form. Then he bowed to John and backed away until he could go in pursuit of Morwenna. He knew it was a terrible risk to leave the king's side without permission, but he wasn't about to let her be attacked.

Some of the onlookers pointed in the direction the men had taken her, and he hurried that way. When he reached the tent, he found her escort bleeding outside the entrance. Robert shoved his way inside and saw Morwenna cornered by one man. She held a blade in her hand and another man lay dead at her feet. Robert wrenched the other soldier away and slit the man's throat with one slice of his dagger. Only when she was safe did he breathe again.

‘Are you all right?' he asked.

Morwenna ran to him, dropping the blade as she did. Her hands were bloody, and he didn't know if it was her blood or theirs. She clung to him, and he held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair. ‘Yes.'

‘Were there any others?' he asked.

She shook her head. ‘My escort protected me, but he was hurt. We should get him help.'

Robert agreed with her. But when he turned back to the tent entrance, he saw two other men helping the escort up. They promised to take the man to a healer, so Robert turned back to Morwenna.

‘Is Lord Penrith dead?' she asked. ‘What happened?'

‘I defeated him, but the king granted him mercy,' Robert answered. ‘It's not over yet.' Although he had wanted to kill Penrith, he couldn't risk angering the monarch.

Morwenna grew sombre. ‘Lady Holyrede is waiting for me. She promised to take me to my mother's estate since it's on their journey.'

Her words soothed some of his fear, for she could not stay here—not with Penrith still alive. And although Robert had asked for an audience, he was uncertain the king would grant his request. King John had appeared irritated at his victory.

In truth, it wasn't safe for either of them.

‘I agree, you should go with them, Morwenna. I can't risk your life again.' He framed her face in his hands, memorising her features.

She embraced him hard, and he stroked her hair back from her face. ‘What will become of us, Robert?'

‘I don't know. But when I reclaim Penrith—'

‘Penrith can burn for all I care,' she responded, drawing back from him. Though she had tears in her eyes, there was no denying her fury. ‘You almost died today, Robert. Do you think I care whether you have any land at all?' He didn't know what to say, but tears spilled from her eyes. ‘I am tired of fighting over your father's land. I'm tired of men telling me I'm nothing but a serf and unworthy of you.'

She took his hands in hers. ‘Either you love me in the same way I love you and we find a way to be together, or we part ways now. Please,' she begged, ‘come with me to Banmouth. Let the land go.'

‘Morwenna...' He started to speak, but when she waited, he didn't know what to say. The right words abandoned him, and he didn't know how to tell her what he felt. He felt torn between his obligations and his desires. And after what he'd done before, running away from his lands and his people, it felt selfish to claim what he wanted. What kind of man would he be if he turned his back on them to be with her?

The thought of living alone, fighting a battle he might never win, weighed upon him heavily. But it was clear that she'd lost faith in him. She didn't believe he could regain Penrith, and how could he blame her? He'd done nothing but fail.

‘You're asking me to abandon them. It's a choice I cannot make,' he said at last.

‘Then you've already made it. And you didn't choose me.' She closed her eyes and let go of his hands. Watching her walk away sliced his feelings to the bone. He wanted to go after her, to change his words. But how could he put his own needs above the people's? Lord Penrith was alive by the order of the king. Though he'd won a victory, it was still a failure.

His mood darkened as he questioned what to do next.

Three days later

A rise of nerves gathered in her stomach as they neared Banmouth. Morwenna tried to calm her fears, but there had been no time to send word to her mother. Rochelle might not even be there.

She rode alongside Lady Holyrede, staring at the horizon. Inside, she felt as if her world had come apart. She had wanted to believe that Robert would come with them. But his life was bound up with Penrith, and he would chase that dream until the day he died. The land meant more to him than she did.

The loss of him made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. All she wanted to do was crumple into a heap and sob. But what good would self-indulgent tears do? Nothing at all. For two years she had lived her life around him, making every choice based on what Robert wanted. In the end, she hadn't been enough.

Morwenna took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. There was no choice but to seek her own future, one without him. No matter how much it broke her heart.

Lord Holyrede spoke with the guards who allowed them to enter. Nerves caught in her stomach as she imagined what it would be like to finally meet her mother—if Rochelle was, in fact, her mother.

Morwenna stared at the small stone keep, wondering about the people who lived here. The dwelling was smaller than she'd expected, but it appeared orderly. Children ran about, smiling as they chased one another. There was no sense of the tension Lord Penrith had caused at Penrith.

But when she saw a noblewoman standing at the top of the stairs, her heartbeat quickened. Lady Rochelle had her same dark hair, the same eyes. It was like looking at herself twenty years from now, and Morwenna understood why the women at King John's court had recognised her.

Inside, she felt frozen, unable to move or speak. She could only stare at her mother's features, wondering what had happened over the years. She remembered that Lord Banmouth had died a few years ago, but she knew not whether Lady Banmouth had remarried.

Lady Sarah of Holyrede walked forward to greet the matron, and though Lady Banmouth observed the expected courtesies, her gaze moved to rest upon Morwenna. There was a sudden falter in her smile, but she masked it.

Lady Holyrede motioned for Morwenna to dismount and come closer. She did, and a boy took the horse's reins from her. She walked up the stairs and stood slightly below Lady Holyrede.

‘My husband and I are travelling south, and we are grateful for your hospitality for the night,' Lady Holyrede said. ‘I would like to introduce you to Morwenna, my travelling companion.'

Lady Banmouth paled but gave a nod. ‘Come inside and join me for some food and drink. I believe we have a great deal to talk about.'

Morwenna followed them, wondering whether the woman would acknowledge her or not. The lady led them inside and ordered the servants to bring food and drink. Lord and Lady Holyrede took a place at the table, and before long, they were enjoying fresh bread, cheese, and venison, along with a cup of wine. They ate together, and soon, Lady Banmouth turned to Morwenna and asked, ‘May we speak alone?'

She nodded and Lady Banmouth excused herself before leading Morwenna towards a corner of the room. She pulled out a stool for her and sat on another. ‘I suppose you know who I am, don't you? It wasn't fate that led you back to me.'

‘I was hoping for answers,' Morwenna admitted. ‘I believe you're my mother.'

Lady Banmouth inclined her head. ‘I think that is obvious to everyone. What is it you want to know?'

Everything , she wanted to say. But a part of her was slightly dismayed that her mother did not seem overjoyed to see her. They were strangers to one another, and there was no sense of happiness at the reunion. She didn't know what to think about that.

‘How did I end up with the miller and his wife?' Morwenna began.

Her mother paused a moment, and then admitted, ‘My husband forced me to give you up.' There was a rise of colour in her cheeks, but she continued, ‘I had no choice.' She motioned to a servant who brought more cups of wine. Morwenna took a goblet but only sipped at it.

‘What of my brother, Brian?' she asked. ‘Is he truly my brother?'

There was a sudden flare of sadness in Rochelle's eyes. ‘He is.' But once again, she offered nothing more. Morwenna sensed that she was probing old wounds, so she decided not to push too hard.

‘I didn't come here to ask anything of you,' Morwenna began, ‘except... I was recognised when we were at the king's camp. They told me you were still alive, and I wanted to see you.'

Rochelle drank her wine, studying her closely. ‘I suppose they told you I was the king's mistress. That I seduced him and bore two bastard children.' But from her tone, it sounded as if that wasn't at all the truth.

‘What really happened?' Morwenna asked.

Rochelle's expression grew strained. ‘John was not yet king then. He was a young and impetuous prince who always got what he wanted. And even though I was married, it mattered not to him. He sent my husband Edmund off to fight, and he demanded that I share his bed. There was no choice at all for me.'

‘I'm sorry,' she whispered.

‘Edmund was furious that I bore the king a child. For a while, neither of us knew whether you were conceived from the king or whether you were legitimate.'

There was no denying the shame on her mother's face. Morwenna didn't know what to say, but she held her silence to find out more.

‘Edmund let me keep you for a few years, to see if we could learn the truth. But then, the king sent for me a second time,' Rochelle continued. ‘Brian is King John's bastard son—there is no doubt of that. I don't know about you.' She closed her eyes as if gathering strength. ‘But after Brian was born, my husband refused to allow me to keep either of you.' She drained the rest of her cup and took a breath. ‘I have another younger son who is the heir to Banmouth, but I never imagined that I'd see you again. What happened to Brian?'

‘He went to fight in the Crusades,' Morwenna answered. Although Robert had sent word to the monks, her brother had not returned. Worry knotted within her that she would never see Brian again.

Rochelle glanced at Morwenna's gown. ‘I am glad that you received the gown. I didn't know if the miller would sell it or give it to you.'

‘He gave it to me a few years ago. But then Brian and I were captured, and I didn't see it for two more years.'

Rochelle paled with shock. ‘Dear God.'

She didn't understand the reason for her mother's horror. ‘We did escape, thankfully.' She told her mother of the attack and how they had hidden at Stansbury.

But there was a rigid cast to Rochelle's face. ‘My husband must have found out where you were.' Her mouth tightened, and she said, ‘I received word from Geoffrey, and he wanted coins to support you and Brian. I sent some silver, along with the gown and pendant. A short time after that, Edmund told me he was sending men to fight for the king. But he must have planned to take you both.'

Tears spilled over her eyes, and she fought to gather control of herself. ‘I don't know whether he meant to have you killed or bring you back to me.'

‘The king's men were there that night,' Morwenna answered. ‘So, your husband did tell you the truth. Four of us were captured, but Robert helped us escape.'

Morwenna flushed as she spoke of him, unable to push back her feelings. But it overwhelmed her to know that Brian had been right. Someone had been hunting them. And whether or not the soldiers had meant to kill them or ransom them, it didn't matter any more. Because of it, her life had changed.

‘Tell me what you know of this necklace.' Morwenna reached for the pendant, but Rochelle shook her head.

‘I've no wish to see that again. I was glad to be rid of it. I only sent it to you, if there was ever a time when you had need of it.'

‘It belonged to King John's mother?' she ventured.

‘It did. The king gave it to me after you were born.'

Morwenna tucked the pendant back beneath the gown. She didn't know if she would have need of it in the future, but for now, it was enough to have a connection to the king who might be her father. She wasn't certain how to feel about her parentage, but one fact was now certain—she did have noble blood. And whether or not it mattered to anyone else, it strengthened her confidence. She did deserve to wed a nobleman like Robert.

‘I was hoping to stay for a time and get acquainted with you,' Morwenna began, ‘but if my presence bothers you, I could go.' She had no idea where that would be, but she didn't want to be an unpleasant reminder of the past.

Her mother studied her and replied, ‘Perhaps you could stay for a time. As long as the king does not...interfere.'

She now understood Rochelle's hesitation—her mother had been used as a pawn before, and she had no desire to meet with the king again.

Morwenna reassured her, ‘He does not know who I am or where I am.'

At that, Lady Banmouth relaxed. Her mother stood and invited her to join the others for a meal. But even as Morwenna took her place, she felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. Lady Holyrede and her husband would continue their travels, and she would be alone here.

But then, she had spent the past few years living for someone else. Perhaps it was time to discover what she wanted.

After two more days of attempting to gain a private audience with the king, Robert was starting to realise that it might never happen. Morwenna had been right. Without Robert having wealth or soldiers to offer, the king had little interest in granting him an audience.

Frustration darkened his mood. He'd made so many mistakes, believing that he could help his people. Instead, he was caught up in a trap of his own failures. Morwenna had been right to leave him...for what sort of life could he give her?

The night sky was black and clouded, and he sat near a fire, contemplating what to do now. Each day, the king had travelled farther north on his journey towards Scotland. Robert had thought about returning to Penrith to try and organise an uprising. But the men lacked enough food to be strong fighters, and many would die. Aye he'd made a vow to his people, but he couldn't ask them to fight.

No, there were other ways to help them. He could send them food in secret. Perhaps bribe the guards to avoid punishments. There were ways to ensure their survival while he obtained the men and wealth he needed.

Robert drank a horn of ale and walked amid the tents. It was strange not to be with Morwenna any longer. He'd grown accustomed to having her near, listening to her advice. Without her, he felt lost and adrift. It wasn't only her absence—it was the desire to watch over her, to take care of her and see her smile.

She had accused him of choosing Penrith over her, and although she'd been right, he was starting to realise that he'd made the wrong decision.

He'd allowed himself to believe that without land, he was worth nothing at all. That if he could not offer her Penrith, he didn't deserve a woman like her. But he'd gone about it backwards. If Morwenna wasn't with him, nothing else mattered.

She had travelled south to Banmouth, to meet the woman who was supposedly her mother. Although Banmouth was not a large estate, he'd heard that the lady was a widow and had family connections to Normandy.

His mind began turning over possibilities, and he decided it was time to stop standing around doing nothing. He had to adjust his plans and find a way to accomplish his purpose. He had been entirely too reliant upon King John instead of himself.

Not any more.

He'd fallen into the trap of honour, believing that kings and noblemen would obey what was right and just. That way of thinking had been na?ve and dangerous. Instead, he needed to change his approach and manipulate the outcome until he got exactly what he wanted. Only then could he get Morwenna back.

He could be ruthless for her sake.

Robert walked past another tent and overheard the sound of disgruntled voices. He knew that many of the nobles were frustrated by King John's taxes. ‘He's bleeding us dry,' he heard a man complain.

‘It has to stop,' another responded.

Their voices dropped lower so he could hear nothing else. Still, it made him realise that this was the reason why Lord Penrith had gained power. Alfred had given King John a large portion of the rents while the other nobles struggled to pay.

Morwenna had been right all along. He needed to regain wealth and use the gold to buy back the king's favour. In time, he could earn what he needed.

But for now, it was time to fight for what he wanted—and what he wanted most was her.