When Love Awaits(43)
“Lies,” he said quickly. He smiled warmly. “It is so good to see you, Leonie. Is all well with you? You do not seem to have fared badly with the Black Wolf.”
She answered stiffly, “He does not mistreat me, Alain. But I will not talk of him. Why have you come here?”
He appeared crestfallen. “Can’t you guess? When I heard of your marriage, I grieved for you. I thought you would welcome my help.”
“Thank you, Alain, but I do not need help,” she said as courteously as she could.
“You are happy with him?”
She looked away sadly. “I cannot say I am happy, but nothing can change my circumstance.”
“You could come away with me, Leonie.”
Leonie turned toward him again, startled. She had thought of fleeing, but until Rolfe was willing to let her go, he would be sure to track her down. What she needed was sanctuary, and Alain could hardly give her that.
“Where is it you plan to go, Alain?”
The question was simple curiosity, but he interpreted it to mean acceptance.
“You will not regret your decision, Leonie.” He smiled, wrapping her in his arms. “I swear I will make you happy!”
“Alain!” She gasped, trying to push him away. “I am married.”
He held her tightly. “A mistake that will soon be corrected.”
Leonie grew very still. “What do you mean?”
“Your husband risks his life daily,” Alain answered carefully. “Even now he wars with my vassals.”
“Your father’s vassals.”
“The same thing,” he said curtly. “Such a man, a man of war, will die—and soon.”
Sudden understanding made her feel sick. Alain’s first message had come not long after Rolfe’s injury. Alain might have been there. He might have been the one who unleashed the arrow.
“Alain,” she began carefully, “you—misunderstood—”
“Quiet!” he hissed, his body tensing. She followed his gaze toward Crewel, horrified to see her husband break through the woods, alone.
“Keep your men out of this, Leonie,” Alain said excitedly. “My own men will take him easily.”
“What?”
She could see no other men in or near the clearing. But when Alain let out a shrill whistle, she knew Rolfe was in danger.
“Alain! You must not attack Rolfe!”
“Hush, Leonie,” Alain said confidently. “This will be easy.” He called across the clearing, “Stay where you are, d’Ambert. You have lost what is yours.”
Rolfe had already seen the lovers standing close together, embracing. This was the truth he had dreaded. He had returned to Crewel to tell Leonie the truth about her father, only to find that she had gone to Pershwick. Then he found a message from Alain Montigny left carelessly on the writing table. A search produced another note from Montigny. Two notes were enough to declare her guilt, and what was before him was the damning confirmation.
“Let her go, Montigny!”
“She is leaving with me,” Alain taunted.
Leonie gasped, outraged. But then everything began happening so fast that she had no time to deny Alain’s claim.
Her own men had mounted and were riding toward them. Much closer, Alain’s men came bursting through the trees. All seven of Alain’s men charged Rolfe, who drew his sword like lightning. His battle cry resounded in the clearing, bringing some of the attackers up short so that only four of them actually met Rolfe head-on.
Leonie screamed for her men to hurry, but no one realized she meant for them to help Rolfe. Alain, confident of his plan, believed she meant for her men to attack Rolfe.
“Never fear,” Alain assured her, relishing his triumph, “he is strong, but he is outnumbered.”
“Fool!” Leonie cried, and Alain’s smile vanished. “I would kill you before I would let you kill him!”
“You will thank me…”
He went silent as his men turned and fled back into the woods—five of them, while two lay dead in the meadow. When he saw why, Alain gripped Leonie’s wrist and pulled her toward their horses. Rolfe had not come alone after all, but had only raced ahead of his men in his haste to reach Leonie. Two knights and a half dozen men-at-arms were with Rolfe now. And Leonie’s own men had joined their lady.
Rolfe did not move, but faced Alain from yards away. “If you go with him, Leonie, I will hunt him down and kill him.”
Alain let go of her instantly. “He wants you so badly, he can have you,” he told her fearfully. He mounted his horse, glancing at Rolfe to see if the larger man would stop him.
“He believes the worst,” she told Alain. “You must tell him…Alain! Come back!” He rode into the forest in the direction his men had taken. Leonie called his name once more, but Alain did not even look back.
She swung around to face her husband. His eyes were black with fury, his expression cruel as he slowly walked his horse toward her.
“My lady, do we fight your husband?”
She had barely noticed her men gathering around her. What could she tell them? What must this look like to them? She did not want to be left alone with Rolfe, but of course there was no question of a battle.
“Answer them, madame,” Rolfe ordered.
“My lord, you must let me explain,” she began.
“Answer them!”
She took a deep breath. “My lord, you must tell them you mean me no harm.”
“I will tell them only that no one keeps me from my wife. I will kill anyone who tries. If they wish to die, then they may fight me.”
She faced her guard. “Return to Pershwick. I go with my husband willingly.”
“But, my lady,” the youngest man said uneasily, casting a glance toward Rolfe. “Sir Guibert will kill us if—if anything happens to you.”
“Tell him only that you escorted me home to Crewel.” The man did not move. “I will not have Guibert Fitzalan riding on Crewel to rescue me, do you understand? I will flay you myself if he learns what has happened here. Now go.” The man still did not move. Leonie sighed. “He is my husband. I must go with him. Do not make it more difficult, I beg you.”
She signaled to him to help her mount, and he did so, reluctantly. She then rode out of the clearing without waiting for anyone. She rode in the direction of Crewel Keep. It did not take Rolfe’s men long to catch up with her.
She did not turn around once to see whether Rolfe was behind her.
Chapter 43
THE next week passed in a torrent of emotions, and she spiraled between deep depression and impotent fury. Rolfe indeed followed her back to Crewel and dragged her up to their room. She expected the worst, but what he did was to lock her in. Later she learned he had drunk himself into oblivion that night.
He released her the next day, but nothing had changed. He wouldn’t listen when she tried to explain about meeting Alain. He wouldn’t listen when she said there had been no question of her leaving with Alain. He wouldn’t listen. He would not speak to her. The servants avoided her for fear of his anger.
The worst was that Wilda and Mary were sent away, leaving her bereft. There was no one at all for her to talk to.
If he would leave, the tension might become bearable, she told herself. But he did not return to the siege at Warling. He did not even leave the keep to hunt. He stayed near Leonie, yet away from her, as if he did not trust himself to be with her, yet could not leave her alone.
She knew exactly what he thought. He expected her to flee, and he was there to make certain she didn’t. Finding Alain’s two notes together and crumpled on the floor the day Rolfe locked her in the room told her how he had found her and what conclusions he had drawn. She knew how damning that scene in the clearing had been, but there was no way to put things right when he wouldn’t listen to her.
He would not even sleep with her in their bed, but was sleeping on a pallet in the antechamber, like a guard outside her door.
She knew she could not go on that way much longer. Frustrated and angry, Leonie threw open the door that separated her from her husband. His eyes were open. He was staring at the ceiling. He was ignoring her and it sent her over the edge. She looked around the antechamber for something to throw at him.
“Do not, Leonie.” His voice was low and menacing.
“Why not?” she demanded furiously. “Then you could beat me and we would have done with this!”
“Beat you?” Rolfe sat up on his pallet. “I killed a man for doing just that and you dare to think I—”
“What?”
“Calveley is dead by my hand,” he told her tonelessly. “I could not let him live after what he did to you.”
Leonie was stunned. “How did you know? I never said—”
“The last week I was gone from here I spent with your father, rendering him sober enough to accept my challenge.” As her eyes reflected panic, he said irritably, “I did not kill your father, woman. He was not the villain I believed he was. He had his wife turn him into a drunk. He was weak, and hardly guiltless, but he did not order you beaten, Leonie. He did not know anything, did not even know you were at Pershwick all these years,” he finished a bit more gently.
“How…could he not know?” she whispered, nearly in shock, and Rolfe explained all of it.