Chapter Twenty-Two

“A h, the joys of being in love.”

Isabel blinked, clearing her thoughts, and turned to Lady Rosamunde. “Your pardon, my lady. I did not hear your words.”

Rosamunde laughed and Isabel looked at her. “You are wearing that dreamy expression again, Isabel. I hope you’ve asked Lady Margaret to send for a priest soon.”

“Not yet,” she answered. After she told Royce she would accept his offer of marriage, no more discussion of it happened. His attentions turned even more ardent, if that was possible, and she had been living in a whirlwind of passion and love for four days.

“At least after you marry, we can lock you in your chambers to get all of this fire out of you. Gautier and I,” the lady’s voice drifted off as she spoke of her husband, “were not seen for a sennight after ours.”

She sighed and Isabel smiled. This seemed to be a place of happily married couples, a thing not always seen in noble and arranged marriages.

“Come then, Isabel. Let us be about our duties.”

They had been enjoying a brief rest at the village well on their way back to the keep. Royce was away for the day, sent by Orrick to the southern boundaries of his lands to investigate reports of brigands. Isabel stood and stretched out all the sore and overused muscles of her body. And she gloried in every single one that reminded her of the ways Royce had loved her.

After meeting and learning the Royce who had saved her life, she had no idea of the passion that lived within him. She guessed that he’d been keeping all of it inside and denying himself the simple joys of living for the three years he’d been here. Now he seemed to be trying to release all of it on her.

Not that she was complaining. She would take it all.

“What I really need, Lady Rosamunde, is a nap.”

That made Rosamunde laugh, but Isabel was serious. Mayhap with Royce gone for the day, she would get some rest. To recover from and to prepare for his ardent wooing.

As they reached the gate, Isabel realized she’d left her handkerchief back at the well. She told Rosamunde that she would return shortly and went back to get it. It was where she had left it and, after tucking it back in her sleeve, Isabel headed to the keep. The small entourage leaving through the gates surprised her for she knew of no visitors.

She dismissed her concern until she heard the laughter of one of the ladies in the party. The woman turned to one of her companions, said something and laughed again. In a moment they were on the north road and too far for her to see again.

What was Alianor doing here, so far from her home in Hexham?

She began to shake uncontrollably and tears filled her eyes to overflow. The tremors grew stronger until she could not breathe.

Alianor…her sister…

She…was…Anne.

Anne.

Daughter of Charles and Marie.

Sister of Alianor and Guillaume and the late Robert.

Wife of Edward.

Of Allonby.

Her life came back to her in a momentary flash. Childhood, womanhood, marriage, the attack. All of it. Her family. Anne blinked as images froze for a second and then were replaced by another. Everything she’d told Royce and the others was completed by the rest of her life.

Everything.

Edward was dead. She saw his face as he landed next to her on the ground. He glanced over at Culbert, his half brother who held the bloodied sword.

Culbert gained much with Edward’s death—his wife already carried their heir in her belly. Stupid, stupid Edward! To put his trust in such a man was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

Her father would seek vengeance for her “death” and regain the lands he’d given to Edward’s family as part of her settlement. There would be war after all between Richmond and Lancaster.

Her husband was dead. She needed to tell Royce that she was free to marry. They could…she was…

Barren.

The word sliced through her. Taunts and insults and punishments and prayers jumbled together. One babe lost then nothing. She was empty of life.

Empty.

Anne gasped for breath and stumbled away from the keep. She needed to gather her thoughts and tell Royce everything. He would guide her in this. Glancing around, she knew where she had to go. He would find her there and know what to do. He would help her follow her sister and reclaim her life.

He would know.

William knew in his soul that something was wrong as soon as he entered the keep. A chill ran through him and he knew that it was over. Seeking out Orrick, he found him with Margaret in the solar. From their grim expressions, he’d been found out.

“You had a visitor today, Royce.” Orrick put emphasis on his adopted name, letting him know how angry the lord was.

“A visitor, my lord? Who?” Why he carried on this charade he did not know. He rubbed his face and prepared for the worst.

“The lady Alianor of Hexham came looking for news of her sister. It seems that you spoke with her at length and promised to seek out news and return to her at the abbey.” Orrick stood and walked over to him. “But you know all of that, do you not?”

“I do. Orrick…” At his fierce glance, William began anew. “My lord, I would explain.”

“You have not told Isabel anything, have you?” Lady Margaret broke in. “Not your past and not her own?”

“Her name is Anne, daughter of Charles of Richmond and wife of the late Edward of Allonby, Lancaster’s nephew.”

His words gave them pause and they exchanged several looks before saying anything.

“Does she know? Have you told her?” Lady Margaret asked.

“No, my lady. I’ve said nothing of meeting with Alianor. She knows not. I just wanted more time…” he said as a way of explaining his behavior. “I knew her sister would come to claim her and that she will leave. I just wanted to hold her for a few more days. I wanted to be Royce and Isabel, who had a chance for happiness and not William and Anne who have none.”

He turned to leave. He must find her and give her her life back. And lose her forever. “Where is she?”

“Lady Rosamunde said she complained of being tired and needing some rest and then she saw her no more. She is not in her chamber so…” Her words drifted off. They all knew where she had gone.

William left the keep and retrieved a horse from the stables. He felt his heart dying within him as he thought of the coming hours. What had he learned from this? That the Fates conspired against him? That he had no right to happiness or a life of his own after sinning as he had? That some cruel deity had given him a taste of what he was missing and then taken it from him?

Soon he stood before the cottage. No light shone within; no sounds came from it. But he felt her pres ence there. Opening the door, he stepped inside. He could see her sitting on the chair, on her chair. She said nothing and he could find no words to begin.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Royce. There is much to tell you.”

“Why do you sit in the dark? Let me light a candle.” He went to the cupboard, drew out a candle and lit it with the flint. Setting it in a holder on the table, William turned to face her. Her head was uncovered, her hair loose and hanging in disarray over her shoulders. The worst were her tear-swollen eyes. “Isabel,” he whispered for the last time.

“My name is Anne,” she said. “Anne of Allonby.” Waiting for his reaction, she smiled and continued. “My father is the duke of Richmond and my sister, my twin sister, Alianor is a countess.” Before he could force any words out, she cried out, “My memory is returned to me, Royce! I can have my life back.”

She stood and ran to him and threw her arms around him. His hands itched to touch her, his arms ached to embrace her, but he would not. At his lack of response, she drew back and frowned.

“Did you not hear me? I can remember everything. Everything!” She began to chatter in her excitement and he waited. “My sister was here today. I saw her leaving the village and all of my memories flooded back over me. We are twins except that we are not identical—she is light and I am dark. She had two sons.”

Then she stopped and looked at him. She flinched as the truth seeped into her. “Royce? You knew? You knew who I was?”

“Isabel, I…”

“Anne. My name is Anne.” Tears flowed again and her lip trembled as she accused him of his first sin. “How long have you known?”

He did take her by the arms now and tried to pull her close. She resisted him for the first time. “I only learned it last week, Isabel…Anne. Your sister came seeking you and I heard her story, your story. I wanted to tell you, but…”

“But?”

She looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. He would give her none for there was none to give in this.

“I did not want this to end.” He let his gaze pass over the room so that she thought he meant the sexual part of what they shared.

She gasped and stumbled away. “You knew and you kept it from me so that you could continue to seek your pleasures with me? Like a common whore?” She sobbed out to him in pain. “Why? We could be together. My father—”

“It is over, Anne. There can be nothing more for us.”

“But Royce, it does not have to end here. You could return with me.”

“I cannot return with you.”

“You can. My father will let me marry you. You were a knight. I am sure you are from a good family. Once he knows who you are…once you tell me who you really are…we can make arrangements.”

He shook his head. “I cannot tell you of my past, Anne. And I cannot go back with you.”

“Royce, we can marry and—” She stopped and looked on him with anger. “You never intended marriage? This was all a pretense?”

“I did intend marriage.” His voice sounded wooden and rigid even to him. But he forced the feelings deep inside him and would not let them out. He would not do this again. He could not survive having hope and seeing it killed this way. And at such a cost to him and to her.

“When? When did you stop?” Anne’s sobs turned to a gasp. “When you met my sister? She told you, did she not? The reason my husband wanted me dead. I am barren.”

He felt the agony of her despair as she once more accepted the guilt placed on her by a husband who wanted her dead. He saw her buckle under the weight of her failure as a woman to conceive and carry a child, an heir, for her husband. He watched her personality shrink from the lively and vigorous Isabel back to the taunted and unwanted Anne. And he did nothing.

Tell her! Tell her you would take her without children. Trust her with your truths. Her love is strong enough.

The words vibrated inside his head and he wanted to tell her. Her anger, he could bear. It would help her to get away from him. But the revulsion and horror and hatred she would feel would be unbearable. No, this way was better.

“You asked me once if I knew in my heart of any impediments to our marriage,” she whispered. “Now I know there is one.”

“Come,” he said, reaching out to take his hand. “Lord Orrick will make arrangements for you to meet up with your sister. She said she will be waiting in Thursby for another day before returning to Hexham.”

She backed away from him, not allowing his touch. ’Twas just as well. “And you? What will you do now?”

“I will submit myself to Orrick’s justice for betraying his trust.”

Lying became easier when it was practiced and that one slid smoothly out of his mouth. ’Twould be gentler to let her think his word to his lord meant more than his word to her. It would separate them faster.

Anne held herself from him but followed him outside. He knew she would not let him hold her in front of him on the horse, so he mounted and pulled her up to ride pillion behind him. As they headed toward Silloth Keep, she touched him as little as possible, only enough to keep her on the horse.

He escorted her to the solar and she walked silently at his side into the chamber. One more duty and it would be over.

“Lord Orrick. Lady Margaret. May I present to you the lady Anne of Allonby, daughter of Charles, the Duke of Richmond?”

He did not look back. He closed the door to the solar and walked out into the night. Back into the darkness he deserved.