Forever His(35)

“They were raped?” Celine whispered.

He nodded. “Tourelle and some among his knights used them most brutally. That, Sir Gaston will not let go unpunished. He is not like most noblemen—he cannot abide the abuse of any women, no matter their rank.” The young man folded his arms over his chest, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “And there is more, milady. Mayhap you wondered why your wedding feast was so meager. It is because milord gave away a great deal of his winter food stores—much more than he could spare—to the peasants living near his father’s and brother’s chateaux, because theirs was taken. So do you see, milady? If you did not know any of this, if Tourelle kept it all from you, do you see now the sort of man he is? Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Celine whispered. She understood a great deal. She felt her empty stomach churning with repugnance for this man she had never met: a powerful duc who would steal, murder, brutalize defenseless women, use force against those weaker than himself.

She understood, too, why Gaston hated Tourelle so much.

Why be hated her so much.

And she realized with a numbing sense of defeat that he would never trust her. Never believe she was from seven hundred years in the future. No matter what she said. He would think her wild story was all part of some plot to kill him.

But mixed with that emotion was something more ... a sense of surprise and wonder that Gaston was so concerned, so generous, with all his people, regardless of whether they were peasant or noble. She doubted that his egalitarian ideas were at all common in this time.

Never in her life had she had to worry about where her next meal was coming from—but here, it seemed, winter was something to be dreaded. Lives could hang in the balance of autumn’s harvest. Gaston had made a major sacrifice to help others less fortunate than he.

It was not only noble, it was ... caring.

“Th-thank you, Etienne,” she said at last. “You have ... explained a great deal.”

Etienne brightened. “So you will go before the King and reveal the truth?”

“Etienne ...” Celine shook her head sadly. “Believe me, if it were in my power to see the Duc punished for what he has done, I would. But ...” She was tired of saying it’s impossible. She was tired of everyone being suspicious of her. “Let me promise you this, Etienne: I swear, by everything I hold dear, that I’m not in on any scheme with Tourelle, and I will not bring any harm to Gaston or anyone else here. Even though I can’t speak to the King, I’ll do whatever I can to help. And I’ll leave just as soon as I possibly can, so your lord can marry his Lady Rosalind. How’s that?”

The young man’s hopeful expression wavered. “I pray, for your sake, milady, that it will be enough.”

A thunder of hoofbeats interrupted them as Gaston and a half dozen of his men rode past, heading for the gate, all bristling with long bows and quivers full of arrows and dangerous-looking pikes. Gaston glanced her way, wheeled his mount and brought the huge beast to a rearing halt a few feet from her.

“Have you changed your mind yet, my lady wife?” he called from atop the prancing war-horse.

Celine couldn’t answer for a moment. The sight of him mounted on his night-black stallion made an impact that stole her breath away. He cut a magnificent figure, like an image from a tapestry come to life, a warrior lord ready to do bold and reckless deeds. Rays of morning’s first light bathed his broad shoulders, struck sparks from his weapons, glistened on the embroidered black lion crouched on his tunic and the silver fur that lined his swirling cloak. He controlled the wild-looking stallion with ease, his gloved hands gentle yet strong on the reins.

A memory of those hands caressing her ever so briefly this morning left Celine shivering with heat and cold. She wet her lips and found her voice at last. “No, monsieur, I have not.”

A sardonic smile curved his mouth. “Then I trust you will have come to your senses when next I see you.” He set his heels to the stallion’s flanks and galloped off after his men, thundering over the lowered drawbridge and into the dense forests beyond.

“Wh-where are they going?” She couldn’t tear her eyes from the spot where he had disappeared.

“To the hunt, milady. The castle has need of food. They will be gone for several days.”

Several days. Celine knew she should be relieved to have her husband away for that long ... but she wasn’t.

God help her, she wasn’t.





Chapter 6


“Your final duties of the day await you upstairs, milady, in your bedchamber.”

It took a second for Yolande’s words to penetrate what was left of Celine’s consciousness. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she hadn’t finished cleaning the goose and chicken pens, dovecotes, and falcons’ mews until long after dark. The roaring fire on the hearth in the great hall couldn’t even begin to thaw her.