Chapter Seventeen

T wo nights passed before the storm showed signs of weakening. Isabel slept through the first night and day and he found her awake and watching him when he came back to lie with her during the second night. William had packed up everything in the cottage, for until she was gone, he would live in the keep.

That had been one decision he’d made. She needed him and he would be there for her. He did not let himself believe that they had more than a few days to a few weeks, but he accepted that he needed to embrace all she offered during that time. When she was gone…when she was gone, there would be time enough to reclaim his solitary life and move back here.

He had not bothered to dress in the still-damp clothes, so he slipped back under the blankets and gathered her in his arms.

“Good even to you, Isabel.”

“Royce,” she said his name on a sigh as she stretched her legs and rubbed against his. His body reacted immediately to her touch. Turning in his arms, she kissed his chest then his neck and then his chin. Unable to resist, he leaned his face to hers and let her continue. He kissed her back once and then moved away.

“You were exhausted,” he said. “And you must be hungry. There is some bread and cheese and ale from the abbey.”

She rubbed her cheek on his. “In a minute or two. I have not slept that well since…since I left your care.”

He touched the place under her eyes where the dark smudges were. “Your lack of sleep has been showing.” The light of the candle he’d left burning illuminated her face. “And I added to your exhaustion.”

“Yes,” she whispered to him, laying her hand on his cheek. “You certainly did.”

He was trying to feel guilty about taking her with such passion and force, but the playful expression on her face and the satisfied glint in her eyes made that difficult.

“Isabel, I feel badly about misusing you. Do not make light of my behavior.”

She sat up and her black hair surrounded her like a curtain. Tussled from being wet and then her sleeping on it, its length fell over her chest and down into her lap.

“I do not feel used, Royce. I feel loved. Well loved.” She smiled at him. “But not abused or forced. You gave me what I needed last night,” she paused, and he interrupted.

“The night before that.”

“Truly? I have slept through a night and a day?”

“And nigh to another night as well.”

“Very well,” she said, waving off his words. “You seek to deflect me from what I would say, from what I would have you hear.”

“I would rather no words, Isabel. Words cannot be taken back when everything changes,” he said, pressing his fingers to her lips. “I know you were feeling unloved, unwanted and hurt by what you remembered. I wanted to banish those feelings from you and make certain you knew you were wanted and needed by me.”

“There, you said them for me.” She laughed at his expression, for he had indeed. She slid back and tucked a blanket around her. Standing, she walked to the table and fetched the bundles of food and the skin of ale and brought them back to the pallet.

How could she ever think she was not wanted? Even in the basest sense of it, with her beauty and grace and fair form, what man could look at her and not desire her? With her hair serving as her only cover, the soft ripeness of her breasts and hips were evident. What man would want to kill her?

Her husband.

“You look as though you ate something sour.”

He watched as she settled herself next to him on the pallet and she let the blanket fall to her waist. Her nipples peeked through the layer of hair and his mouth watered at the thought of kissing them again. He sat up and slid back against the wall, keeping the blanket over his legs and other now-obvious parts.

“Now you look hungry.” Her words carried no accusation, just a description of what she most likely saw on his face. He reached over for the loaf of brown bread and tore off a piece. He stuffed it in his mouth, chewed it quickly and swallowed.

“I am hungry. I have been waiting for you to wake before I ate.” The flash in her eyes told him she knew his real hunger.

She broke off a chunk of the hard yellow cheese and chewed it slowly. After washing it down with a mouthful of ale, she shook her head at him. “What were you thinking of when your face turned so…intense?”

“Your attacker.”

Her eyes glazed over as he could tell she watched the attack again in her thoughts. There was no pain or fear now, only remembrance. “I think I knew him.”

“I think the attack was planned by your husband and his brother.”

She blinked several times and nodded her head. “Husband?” she asked in a whisper then she nodded. “I think you are correct, Royce.”

He did not want to cause her more pain. “If you do not want to speak of it, we will not.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “The memories do not frighten me any longer. I suppose that now that they are clear, they will not haunt me again.”

“A noble couple attacked and killed and no outcry has rung throughout the kingdom. How can that be, Isabel?”

They were silent for a minute or two as they both thought on the question. It had bothered him since he realized that her husband had arranged to have her killed. Then, from her description of the attack, it would seem that his brother, selected to carry out the task, had turned on him as well.

“Do not dwell on that. For now, eat and rest until we can return you to the keep. Lady Margaret must be nigh to hysteria over the thought of you being out in this storm.”

She gifted him with a smile, but she was different now. “Do storms like this come very often here?”

He shook his head. “Not very often, usually once or twice a year. They blow in from the sea, across this corner of land and then out into the firth and north to Scotland.”

“How did you get here? I thought you were with Lord Orrick at the abbey?”

“I was. When the weather turned bad, he thought we should head back sooner rather than wait. I stopped here, wanting to gather up the rest of my belongings and bring them back to the keep.”

“Your horse? Is it outside?” She looked toward the window.

“It got away when I followed the dog to you. Do not fret. It will find its way back to the keep as it always does.”

“And then Lady Margaret will truly worry—a riderless horse returning in a storm.”

He nodded and smiled. Lady Margaret in that state of mind was not something he wanted to see. “I suspect, with the diminishing winds, that we will have an escort back shortly after dawn.”

She glanced at him, the blankets and their garments still strewn over the benches and chair. Then she looked at herself. “I guess that clothing will be necessary, then?”

“I fear so. ’Twould not go well if we greeted my men as we are now.”

She laughed, but again he sensed something was different, quieter, changed. She teased him, but there was less joy in her now.

“Would you hold me, Royce? Just hold me?”

He wrapped the remaining food and tossed it onto the table. Then he opened his arms to her and she moved into his embrace. Sometime later, she fell asleep and he moved them both down onto the pallet. But he was awake when the winds calmed and the rain stopped. William did not want to miss a moment of holding her close, for he feared this would be the last time.

Isabel closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Royce was right—she was exhausted from the last two days’ experiences. And now she was heartsick as well as brainsick. Turning away from him, she lay on her side and tried to sort out her feelings.

Royce was also correct about the man in her memories being her husband. As soon as he had spoken the words, she knew. But why could she remember nothing else?

During the time Wenda had taken care of her, the woman had mentioned that she thought this was her mind’s way of protecting her from things too terrifying to face. Was that it?

It all came back to the reason a husband would kill his wife. Was there some flaw in her so excessive he had to rid himself of her in this manner? Royce shifted closer to her in his sleep. His body was warm and hard and safe. She thought of his passion and her response, welcoming him into her body without hesitation.

Was that then her sin? Had she failed to be faithful to her vows? Had she given herself to men other than her husband and he needed to rid himself of a faithless wife? Her easy passion with Royce pointed to that. And she was definitely not a virgin when she lay with Royce last night. No, she had enjoyed that side of marriage, she was certain of it.

Was this her flaw?

She closed her eyes again and saw the attack as it had happened. Her husband, surprised by the attack on him, fell from his horse, bleeding profusely from the wound in his stomach. She tried to listen to his words more closely, but she had been dazed by the blow to her head.

“’Tis your fault, bitch. Your failure brought us to this.”

She flinched not only at the words, but also the vehemence with which he flung them at her. Hatred for her burned in his eyes. She did not see the same when he glanced at the brother who had stabbed him. It was only for her—the cause of his troubles.

A throbbing pain started in the front of her head and spread to the back of it. She rubbed at her temples, trying to ease the tightness. Then Royce’s hand covered hers and began to rub away the pain. Isabel relaxed at his touch and soon the growing tension was gone.

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“I have been awake.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her neck. “I could not sleep knowing that with the dawn, this will end.”

“How much longer, then?” It was quieter outside, but she could not tell if it was growing lighter or not. The candle on the table had gone out a while ago.

“Not long enough,” he whispered as he moved his mouth over her ear, touching with the tip of his tongue. She shivered at the tickling, arousing sensation and moved back against him, feeling the proof that he was affected, too.

“Then hurry,” she urged. Isabel needed to feel his desire again. Just once more before she faced the rest of her life without him.

For in the dark of the night, she had realized that she could never be with him again, never offer a future to him. Until she could understand her failings in her life and in her marriage, she could not risk ruining his life. This idyllic time set against the storm raging outside would be their one chance to share their love. She leaned back against him and waited.

This joining, with him behind her, was different than their first. Instead of raw passion, this one was made of softer touches, heated kisses and a quieter moment of completion. And when he drew from her at the end, she understood why. This was a farewell for them. His words of love were saying goodbye and she accepted what he had tried to tell her from the start, from the moment when they became aware of each other as man and woman.

He left with the excuse of getting the bucket of rainwater from outside so she could wash before dressing, but even with a reason, the parting was painful. She gathered her clothes and the new memories she would carry with her and prepared to return to the keep.

As predicted, his men arrived with horses not long after dawn. Edlyn was with them, but she had finished dressing and needed no help. Her gown and bliaut were stiff and uncomfortable, but Edlyn assured her that a hot bath and fresh clothing awaited her at the keep.

If any of them thought that something untoward had occurred, they gave no sign of it. Connor gave Royce a full accounting of all the damage wrought by the storm and of Lord Orrick’s plans for repairs. The men were boisterous and anxious to get back so Royce helped her onto the horse brought for her and mounted his own. With his belongings in sacks tied to the horses’ saddles, they left for Silloth Keep.

Isabel tried to pay attention to the route they took, but several times they changed direction because of downed trees and branches. When Royce caught her eye and nodded at one such broken tree, she knew it was where he had found her. She shivered as she noted the size of the branch that had fallen from above.

The rest of their journey took only minutes, for once they reached the larger paths of the village, they could move with more speed. Soon they approached the keep, rode through its gates and into the courtyard. By the time they dismounted, Lady Margaret was there.

“Royce, my lord awaits you at the stables. He asked that you join him there after breaking your fast.” Royce handed off his horse to one of the boys and then turned to both of them.

“By your leave, I will go there now.” At Lady Margaret’s nod, he looked at Isabel with a closed expression that she not read. “Be well, Isabel.”

They watched in silence as he walked away and then the lady clapped her hands. “Rosamunde, please go to the kitchens and tell them to bring food for Isabel to my solar. Jehane? Is the bath ready? See to it now for Isabel stands here looking ready to collapse. And Edlyn, gather clean clothing for her.”

The women named scattered as she called out their orders and soon it was only Isabel and Lady Margaret standing at the steps to the keep. The lady’s astute eyes examined her several times before she spoke.

“Something is different, Isabel. Are you well?”

“I am well, my lady.”

“Royce saw to your care?”

“Aye, my lady, he did.” Isabel knew she was probing. She did not have the strength to face questioning now. “May we speak more after my bath?”

“And after some food as well. At least you look well rested.”

Isabel almost laughed. The lady would find out what she wanted to know or would guess until the truth was admitted to her. Isabel just did not know which would come first.