Fatal Truths (The Anarchy Medieval Romance) (20 page)

ALEX MUSED THAT IT HAD BEEN GOD’S PLAN ALL ALONG to bring him to the
Abbaye aux Dames
. After hours on his knees in the silent chapel, he eased back to sit on the hard wooden bench, careful not to wake Henry and Claricia who’d eventually dozed off in the early morning hours.

The nuns had been solicitous, providing
warm blankets and cushions for the twins stretched out either side of him, sleeping soundly.

He
closed his weary eyes, praying for the hundredth time he wouldn’t have to tell them their mother had died.

The Abbess had welcomed
him like a long lost son when they’d brought Elayne to the Infirmary where he’d been born. She’d been a young postulant when his mother had sought sanctuary at the time of his birth and remembered the event vividly. “Your mother was a brave woman,” she declared, eyeing him up and down. “And what a fine young man you’ve turned out to be.”

The entire community was agog that they’d
arrived in the company of a King who admonished them to do everything they could to save Elayne’s life. It had become the collective mission of every nun in the place, including several who still prayed alongside him.

That the babe born there long ago had returned seemed to be
heralded as some kind of sign.

Elayne
hadn’t woken since he’d broken off the back of the arrow and shoved the shaft through the wound. He’d used her beloved
playd
to stem the blood. He doubted it would ever be wearable again, but had insisted the nuns not dispose of it.

He
planned to have another woven for her when she was well again. He recalled that Dugald’s
playd
had been slightly different. She’d be able to instruct the weavers at Montbryce as to the proper pattern.

Despite his exhaustion he chuckled
, remembering the look of utter shock on Geoffrey’s face when Stephen kicked him off his horse. His minions had scrambled to help him, a task rendered more difficult because one booted foot had caught in the stirrup. Stephen would make sure the whole of Normandie knew of the Angevin’s humiliation. That the avaricious man had been hoodwinked by a pair of eight year olds would rub salt into the wound.

He hadn’t had a chance to
properly thank Gallien for carrying the children to safety after he’d had more or less thrown them at his cousin, his mind on helping Elayne.

Even in the throes of agony, she’d told him she loved him. It was ironic. He was a man who’d sworn off marriage, yet now his most fervent and desperate hope was that the woman he loved would survive her ordeal and agree to marry him
by the rites of the Church and in the presence of his family.

Romain and Laurent had stayed with him at the
Abbaye
for several hours, but he’d insisted on their returning to the castle with Gallien to make sure their knights and soldiers were taken care of.

Fixing his gaze on the flickering sanctuary candle in an effort to stay awake, he thanked God for the light Elayne had brought to his lonely and misguided life. She’d helped him face and overcome demons that had haunted him since birth. He was a whole man now, capable of being a
worthy
Comte
, a true Montbryce, and a loving husband and father.

She’d brought him back into the bosom of his family and given him a new appreciation
for his noble heritage.

Henry turned over in his sleep, throwing off the blanket. Alex leaned over to retrieve it from atop the kneeler
and moved to cover the boy, startled by the vision of an elderly nun standing silently at the end of the bench. He crushed the blanket in his fists, apprehension catapulting into his gut.

Her facial expression gave nothing away. That she wasn’t smiling
was equally meaningless. These women were trained to be detached from worldly things. Earning a place in heaven was the end goal. Death didn’t sadden them.

“You’re summoned to the Infirmary,” she whispered.

He frowned, looking at the children, his heart thudding in his ears.

“I’ll pray with them,” she said, smiling for the first time.

Dare he allow the flicker of hope to grow in his breast?

He reached into his doublet for Elayne’s braided token, handed to him by a nun outside the Infirmary. She thought he’d want to have it. The sight of it had almost
brought him to his knees.

He kissed the braid before tucking it back against his heart, rose from the bench, and forced his feet to carry him to the Infirmary.

He hesitated on the threshold. The candle flickering by Elayne’s pallet cast an eerie light on the white linens, illuminating the Infirmarian seated in a chair watching over his beloved.

The nun rose when she saw him. He wondered briefly if this was the same pallet where his mother had brought him into the world, and if the elderly woman who came to greet him had been there then.

She had probably kept vigil for several hours, yet didn’t appear to be tired. “Good news,
milord
,” she whispered. “She’s awake. I’ve reassured her about the children. You can speak to her for a few minutes if you like. She’s very strong, but we don’t want to tire her.”

He wanted to shout hallelujahs to the heavens, to fall on his knees and praise God, to run to the chapel and fetch Henry and Claricia. He nodded to the smiling nun, waited until the brief dizziness left
him, then approached Elayne’s pallet.

She was pale, but her
reassuring smile sent pangs of longing shooting through his body. He cupped her face in his hands. “I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured hoarsely.

To his immense relief, she was warm, but not feverish.
The thick wad of padding around her shoulder showed no sign of blood seeping.

“
I’m alive thanks only to you,” she whispered. “The Infirmarian told me that removing the arrow quickly and stopping the bleeding saved my life.”

He didn’t want to think what might have happened if he hadn’t been there. He took hold of her warm hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “That you live brings meaning to my existence.”

She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

“Did I hurt you?”

She opened her eyes. “No, my love. You could never hurt me. Where are Henry and Claricia?”

“Asleep in the chapel, after being on their knees for hours. I’ve never known braver children. They take after their mother.
You didn’t see how Henry boosted his sister onto my horse.”

Elayne
smiled weakly. “Their father taught them that.”

She
closed her eyes. After a while he thought she’d fallen asleep, but then she peeled them open. “Faol?” she asked hoarsely.

“Annoyed he’s been made to stay outside the convent walls.”

She laughed, but it turned into a cough that had her wincing at the pain. The Infirmarian bustled over. “Enough for tonight. She must rest.”

He kissed her forehead. “Get well
quickly,” he whispered. “We have a wedding to plan.”

She
pursed her lips, so he kissed her mouth, tasting parsnips, but it was probably the hemlock in the
dwale
the nuns had administered to dull the pain.

As her eyelids
closed she whispered, “I think the drug is making me conjure nonsensical visions. I dreamt King Stephen kicked Geoffrey of Anjou off his horse, and a silver haired angel carried my children to safety.”

Alex chuckled. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll introduce you to that silver haired angel.”

She nodded but he could tell she was already asleep. He tiptoed out of the Infirmary, elated he could wake his children with the news their mother had survived her ordeal.

DESIRE CURLED ITS WARM WAY up the backs of Elayne’s thighs and nestled into her most intimate place when Alex kissed her after the priest had given him leave.

Their guests, gathered in the chapel
of Montbryce Castle, cheered and clapped loudly. He deepened the kiss, slowly teasing her tongue with his, but she gently broke away, resting her forehead against his. “We must remember a king is watching,” she whispered.

Alex shrugged. “He’s cheering louder than anybody.”

Looking very pretty in a gown of blue velvet trimmed with white ermine that matched her mother’s outfit exactly, Claricia giggled, her little hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes dancing.

Henry rolled his eyes at his sister as if she was the silliest girl in the world
, then patted Faol’s head.

The dog hadn’t moved a muscle nor made a sound throughout the ceremony, despite being obliged to wear a heavily jewelled collar in honor of the occasion.

King Stephen came forward to greet them. “Let me be the first to congratulate you both on a fine match.”

Alex bowed. “
Majesté
, we’re honored you came to our wedding. You’ve been back and forth across the Narrow Sea many times since we last met, and Normandie is not the safest place to travel these days.”

Stephen took Elayne’s hand as she curtseyed
, brushing his lips across her knuckles. While it was exciting to be so honored by a king, and Stephen was a handsome man, his touch didn’t move her in the slightest.

“Such are the burdens of a king, but I was determined to come.
If not for your bravery, Caen would have been in serious peril. How could I not attend after your husband’s generous gift to the Crown of so many excellent war tents? Besides, you’ve made a remarkable recovery in only three short months, my dear.

“
Now, greet your guests and then we’ll enjoy the famous Montbryce
cuisine
, hopefully followed by a tumbler or two of apple brandy.”

Romain and Laurent came to congratulate them
as the king wandered off. It amused her that Alex couldn’t conceal his impatience when both brothers-by-marriage lingered over the kisses and hugs of congratulations. Neither brother hid his amusement, and she enjoyed their deliberate needling. It reminded her of the tit for tat she and Beathan had indulged in as children. It was heartwarming that Romain and Laurent had welcomed her as a sister.

Gradually the celebrations moved into the Great Hall where
she and Alex took their places on the dais.

She leaned over to whisper in her husband’s ear, tempted to nibble on his earlobe. “I hope this feast doesn’t deplete your stocks of apple brandy.”

He looked at her as if she’d spoken in Greek. “You’ve never been in the cellars, have you?”

She shook her
head, wondering what he meant.

He gently pressed her fingertips to his mouth.
“On the morrow I’ll show you. This night I have more pressing things to take care of,” he teased.

The Hall suddenly seemed stifling
ly hot. During the long weeks of her convalescence, they’d kissed and held hands. After her recovery, they’d made a pledge to refrain from joining their bodies as penance for their unintentional adultery. It had been torture to spend every day with the man she loved and not touch him.

Henry and Claricia had
easily fallen into calling Alex
Papa
, and it gladdened her heart to see the love he lavished on his stepchildren.

The feasting went on for hours as
the cooks produced one mouth watering dish after another. It had been decided to begin with miniature pastries filled with beef marrow, followed by the famous
truite à la Montbryce
.

“You will love this trout,” Alex assured her, offering a chunk on the end of his eating dagger. “It’s cooked
in a manner handed down from
La Cuisinière
, a legendary cook at the castle in my grandfather’s time. Even I am ignorant of the special ingredient that makes it unique. It’s a closely guarded secret.”

It melted in her mouth. “I will have to learn
it if I’m to be the
Comtesse
. Perhaps one of your sisters knows?”

Alex chuckled, looking across the Hall to where Marguerite and Catherine sat with their husbands and children. “You can ask—”

He was interrupted when the entire assembly of several hundred guests came to their feet as King Stephen rose unexpectedly to offer a toast to the long dead
La Cuisinière
. Shouts of agreement followed his brief speech. Elayne wondered if perhaps His Majesty had already sampled a few tumblers of apple brandy.

A
small bowl of broth with bacon was followed by roasted larks, chosen because they were a favorite of Alex’s. He teased Elayne by feeding her the dainty bits of succulent meat by hand from their shared trencher. His blue eyes darkened when she licked the grease off his fingers.

Roast lamb
with leeks and onions came next. Elayne exacted her revenge by feeding the meat to Alex. They both laughed out loud when they caught sight of Claricia trying to feed her brother by hand. He brushed the food away, his patience obviously near its end.

“I suppose siblings are the same everywhere,” Alex said.

“Aye,” she agreed, arching her brows. “If he thinks she’s annoying now, wait until she grows up a little and learns feminine wiles.”

Her husband took her hand beneath the table and placed it on his arousal. “I can’t wait to sample your feminine wiles again.”

It was the first time she’d touched him intimately in weeks. The fire of longing in his eyes and the hard proof of his need blazed a path of wanting that burned in every part of her body. She was dizzy with desire, but before she could respond, Romain and Laurent stood, goblets in hand.

“Make it quick,” Alex growled to his brothers, causing general amusement among the guests seated near the dais, except for Marguerite and Catherine who pretended to look shocked.

Romain winked at Elayne and she feared he would deliberately talk on and on.

“
Majesté
,” he began, bowing to the King, “guests, and friends. It is my honor to offer a toast to my brother and his new wife. Laurent and I have always known the right woman would come along to be Alex’s
Comtesse
, and we were right. Elayne is a person of great courage who we are confident will assist my brother in upholding the proud traditions and standing of this noble family.”

It touched her heart that the often flippant Romain had to pause to clear his throat, evidently moved by his own words.

“What my brother is trying to say,” Laurent continued, “is that we love you both and wish you many years of happiness.”

He raised his goblet.
“I ask that everyone stand and raise their goblets to Alexandre and Elayne, the
Comte
and
Comtesse
de Montbryce.”

The toast was echoed around the Hall, followed by the loud banging of empty goblets on wooden tables.

Faol barked enthusiastically.

A simple
sweet of frumenty was served along with spiced wine. The King cheered the loudest when casks of apple brandy were set up on a trestle table and guests invited by Bonhomme to help themselves.

Elayne noted the ever vigilant Steward had posted a manservant at each cask to assist those wishing to draw the golden liquid.
He’d also placed half a dozen vases with leafy twigs on the trestle tables. She wondered what they were.

Alex came to his feet. “Before everyone rushes off to get their apple brandy, you will see some greenery next to the casks. This morning, Steward Bonhomme and his men were able to snip new growth from
a few of the burned trees in the orchard.”

His unexpected announcement was met with a moment of stunned silence, followed by wild cheering and more barking from Faol.

Alex raised his hand and the guests slowly quieted. “I consider this a sign from God that our orchards will rise again from the ashes.”

Cheers broke out
once more. Alex waited patiently for the noise to abate, smiling. “My life used to be barren and bleak until I met Elayne and her children. They have breathed life into me, and I will bear fruit.”

She felt her face redden as guffaws, goblet banging, clapping and whistling filled the air. Did he suspect what she herself had
only recently acknowledged, that she had already conceived?

Alex regained his seat just as King Stephen rose from his chair again, motioning the guests to remain in their places. Somehow he’d already procured a tumbler of apple brandy, which he held aloft. “I think it’s Elayne who’ll be bearing the fruit, my friend.”

More laughing and cheering. Elayne wished she had something cool to press to her burning face.

“Seriously,” he continued, “I offer a salute to this family and to the as yet unborn
fifth
Comte
de Montbryce. He will follow in the footsteps of four great and gallant Normans, Bernard, Rambaud, Robert and Alexandre. To the Montbryces.”

“To the Montbryces,” echoed around the Hall.

Swaying noticeably, the King called for silence. “Now, Alex, take your bride to bed so the rest of us can enjoy our brandy in peace.”