Fatal Truths (The Anarchy Medieval Romance) (9 page)

“
Harold Rex interfectus est
,” Marguerite declared loudly with a flourish towards the panel showing Harold with an arrow in his eye. “King Harold is killed.”

“Without their leader, the Saxons fled, except for Harold’s elit
e guard who fought to the death,” Alex explained.

“Hurrah for the Normans,” Henry shouted, thrusting his fist in the air.

~~~

ELAYNE CRINGED
, grasping Henry’s hand. “I understand you’re excited,” she whispered, “but remember that the Conqueror’s invasion of England wasn’t a good thing for the Scots.”

Henry looked crestfallen. “Sorry,
maman
,” he murmured in Norman French.

Elayne glanced quickly at Marguerite, hoping she hadn’t heard the slip, but she was eyeing them suspiciously.
Perhaps it was only her criticism of the Conqueror that had caused the scowl.

Alex saved the day. “The boy is fond of his nursemaid,
” he said to his sister, “and has known no other mother since his birth. It’s natural he should call her
maman
. Elayne speaks true. King Malcolm Canmore and his eldest son were killed by Normans at the Battle of Alnwick almost forty years ago. My half-uncle, Caedmon FitzRam was wounded in that battle. He fought with the Scots.”

Elayne was surprised.
The Norman patronymic
Fitz
implied illegitimacy. “FitzRam?”

Alex winked. “
Oui
, my
grandpère
was a great man, but he was no saint. Caedmon was his illegitimate son, my father’s half brother. It was he and
oncle
Baudoin who rescued my father from captivity.”

“But Caedmon is a Saxon name.”

“His mother, Ascha, was a Saxon. Caedmon and his wife drowned in the sinking of
La Blanche Nef
sixteen years ago.”

Elayne found these new revelations perplexing. The Montbryce family had a more complicated and interesting history than simply being involved in the Norman Conquest of England.
She wanted to know more.

She sidled closer to Alex, relieved Marguerite had gone off to
shepherd her charges, taking Henry and Claricia. “You don’t speak much of your father,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t treading on dangerous ground.

Surprise lit his eyes. “You’re right. We weren’t close. His absence at my birth always seemed to stand between us.
It took him two years to recover, and even then—”

“Did you fear him?”

Alex stared blindly at the panels. “I was nervous with him until I was about three years old.”

“Did he try to make up for the lost time?”

He frowned. “
Oui
,” he replied hoarsely. “But I made it difficult for him.”

She sensed from the look of shock on his face that this
truth had only just now occurred to him. She wanted to ease his pain, but touching him in this public place was impossible. “You cannot blame yourself. You were a boy deprived of the first years of your father’s love.”

~~~

ALEX’S KNEES THREATENED TO GIVE WAY. He trembled from head to toe. All these years he had laid the blame at his father’s door. Small wonder Robert de Montbryce had felt guilty. Alex had made sure of it.

A
cutely aware of the perceptive woman at his side, he clenched his fists, fighting the urge to bury his face in her breasts and weep.

“You’ll feel better now you’ve had an
epiphany,” Elayne whispered.

It was astonishing. No sooner had she uttered the words than Alex felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He took her hand, staring into green eyes. “What is it about you, Elayne, that you see and sense things about people they don’t see themselves?”

Did she know he was falling in love with her?

She blushed. “I listen and observe. Sometimes we are too close to
perceive things an outsider can see quickly.”

He brushed his lips on her knuckles, cursing his Fate that he had at last found a woman he loved, but who
could never be his, a woman who knew him better than he knew himself. She had freed him from his long torment, but he would still be alone.

IT WAS APPROPRIATE
the sun was shining brightly when they emerged from the cathedral. Alex felt he’d been reborn, his only regret that his father was no longer alive to share in what Elayne had called his
epiphany
.

If ever he had children of his own, he would tell them every day of their lives how much he loved them.

He came to an abrupt halt. Why was he torturing himself? There was no possibility now he would sire children. His throat tightened as he watched Elayne assist Henry and Claricia into the carriage. He loved those little scraps of humanity.

His sister nudged him, ushering the last of her brood out of the church. “It’s a strange thing,” she said.

“What?”

“The resemblance.”

Alex was instantly on alert. “What are you talking about,
ma soeur
?”

Marguerite eyed him as if he were a naughty boy caught stealing apples from the orchard. “Come now,
mon frère
, surely you see it. Imagine Claricia with red hair.”

Dieu! If she has guessed—

He pretended to study the little girl closely, but his sister flounced off. He walked towards Elayne, helping her to ascend the carriage. “Marguerite has guessed,” he whispered.

Her ey
es widened, but she nodded. “Your sister is quick-witted. I’m surprised it has taken her this long. Don’t worry. She is loyal to you.”

Again, this incredible woman had sensed his fear and calmed it.

“When you speak to her tell her of your epiphany. She seems to have had a good relationship with your father.”

All was in readiness for departure, depriving Alex of further opportunity to converse with Elayne. He mounted his horse, adjusting his leggings to ease the ache at his groin. It would be a long hour’s ride, his every thought
concentrated on a plan to rescue Elayne from sleeping on the floor of his sister’s Hall this night.

~~~

ALEX WASN’T SURPRISED to be summoned to his sister’s solar as soon as the evening meal was finished. All the children had been packed off to their chambers, too tired to do anything but peck at their food. Marguerite had instructed Elayne to accompany Henry and Claricia. They’d been able to exchange only the briefest of glances as she left the Hall.

He tapped on the open door, taken aback to see his brother-by-marriage in attendance.

Marguerite must have sensed his dismay. “You have placed this family and our household in jeopardy,
mon frère
, so it is fitting Jean be here.”

He toyed with the idea of feigning ignorance, but to what end? “It’s not what you think.”

The ever-patient Jean motioned him to a chair. “Ale?”

Alex sat, shaking his head. He’d had one too many tumblers of wine after a long emotional day. “You have correctly surmised Elayne is not a servant, but she is not my mistress.”

Marguerite smiled. “That’s why I have assigned her to a chamber. Had I known the truth yesterday, she wouldn’t have slept on the floor. You didn’t trust me.”

Alex inhaled deeply, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “Elayne has helped me see that
a lack of trust is one of my failings. She talked to me about Papa.”

Marguerite clutched her throat. “Papa loved you, you know, probably more than the rest of us put together.”

Marguerite had always been bossy, but he’d never sensed jealousy in her. “And I failed to see it.”

“You were a
baby, Alex, born in difficult circumstances to a woman in great fear and distress. You were the longed-for heir to Montbryce, but
Maman
didn’t know if her husband was alive or dead. She brought you into the world in a convent far from home, far from me and Catherine, alone and terrified with only the nuns to help her.”

There was so much he’d never considered before. He’d blamed his father for the tension in their lives, but it was true that his mother had also been abducted at the same time as his father, and imprisoned before escaping to the
Abbaye aux Dames
in Caen. Perhaps as a babe he’d sensed that fear.

Why had it taken him thirty years to realize these truths? So much of his life wasted on unnecessary resentments.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses as far as Papa is concerned, Alex. Now tell me everything. We need to be prepared.”

It occurred to him then that not only had he shut out his father, he’d paid scant attention to anyone in his family for year
s, always keeping himself aloof.

Yet they loved him. It was humbling.

“Henry and Claricia are Elayne’s children.”

Marguerite glanced at her husband.
“Which means they are not King David’s grandchildren.”

He
pinched the bridge of his nose. “Illegitimate.”

Long minutes passed in silence, except for the crackle of the hearty fire. Then Marguerite asked him,
“Maud and Geoffrey are unaware of this subterfuge?”

“
Oui
.”

Jean spoke for the first time.
“What of their father?”

An ache stirred behind Alex’s eyes.
“In Scotland, I assume.”

Marguerite rose to pace in front of the hearty fire. “Elayne isn’t a widow?”

The ache now throbbed in his temples. “Apparently not.”

“You’re sure of this?”

He sat up straight. “She told me she is married.”

Marguerite came to stand before him. “Sometimes you are dimwitted, brother.
If she had a husband, King David wouldn’t have sent her. You love the woman, any fool can see it. Perceptive as she is, I’m sure she knows it. A husband is a certain way to keep you at bay.”

A snake curled around his bowels.
“Why would she want to? Am I so unlovable?”

Marguerite threw her hands in the air. “Explain it to him, Jean.”

Jean Venestre stroked his beard. “Elayne is playing a dangerous role in a deadly game. She cannot afford to make a mistake. Her children would suffer as a consequence.” He smiled at his wife. “Love tends to muddle a woman’s thinking.”

Hope flickered.
“You think she loves me?”

Marguerite snorted. “My brother is addlebrained,” she muttered. “Can you not see it?”

Alex stared at her, struck for the first time by her resemblance to their mother. “Marguerite,” he whispered hoarsely, coming to his feet.

His sister embraced him, her eyes filled with tears. “I prayed the right woman would come along and melt that
frozen heart of yours.”

He recognized the truth of it. He was emerging from a long, lonely winter. But the road ahead was fraught with danger.
There would be no joyful spring if he failed to keep Elayne and her children alive.

His sister squeezed his hand. “She’s in the little chamber next to the children
’s.”

FAOL LURCHED TO HIS FEET
when Alex approached the door. The dog must have sensed Henry was safe and that it was Elayne who was alone. He quickly lay back down across the threshold when he saw there was no danger.

“Good dog,” he whispered,
bending to scratch Faol’s belly. The dog grunted, stretching his long front legs.

Alex
straightened, tugging the edges of his tunic, and tapped on the door. He felt like a nervous young swain courting his first girl. Not that he’d ever really courted anyone.

There was no sound from within. Perhaps she’d already retired. Disappointment filled him, yet he was strangely relieved.

He hunkered down again to give the dog a farewell tug of the ears. The door creaked open a crack.

He stood quickly, overtaken by an urge to rain kisses on th
e wide green eyes that peered around the door.

She clutched the familiar shawl around her shoulders. “What are you doing here,
milord
?”

Was it that she was entrenched in the servant role, or was she
determined to discourage him?

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Elayne. May I enter?”

Faol lumbered to his feet, pushing his nose to the opening.

They both
chuckled nervously.

“He thinks he’s invited too,” Elayne said with a smile that gave him hope.

“Does that mean I’m invited?”

As if resigned to spending the night in the corridor
, Faol slumped to the floor with a grunt, blocking the door. Elayne eased it open a little more.

Alex took advantage of the moment, strode over the dog and pushed the door wide. “I’ll shove him back.”

He entered the chamber, then pushed the door closed, easing the reluctant dog out of the way.

“Slyly done,
milord
,” Elayne said with a smile. “He might never forgive you.”

~~~

ELAYNE BLESSED THE SAINTS for the distraction of the dog. She’d known as soon as she’d heard the tapping at the door that Alexandre stood just inches away. Her heart had soared as a pulse throbbed in her throat. Her resolve to stay silent until he left had lasted but a few seconds. She wanted to see him, wanted to find solace in his arms.

Now here he stood, looking uncertain yet determined, his nostrils flared.
Inhaling deeply, she filled her senses with the clean masculine scent of him.

The bed tucked in one corner of the room was small, but it loomed large as they faced each other. Where had the urge to wrestle him
onto the mattress come from? Had the strain of the treacherous scheme addled her wits?

He was a Count, one of Normandie’s most powerful noble
men, and he was an ally of Maud. Her father-by-marriage was counting on her to convince the would-be Queen of the English that he had indeed consigned his grandchildren in support of her cause.

But
Alexandre hadn’t betrayed her identity, and the glint in his darkened blue eyes told her she was in the presence of a hungry male who desired her.

The situation bordered on the ridiculous. King
Dabíd would attack Stephen come what may because of his loyalty to the memory of another king who’d given him shelter in his youth.

The desperate notion flitted into her mind that
her father-by-marriage would honor his commitment to Maud even if she murdered his grandchildren. Her own life meant nothing to him, of that she was certain. Had he even cared at all for his bastard son, Dugald? He’d seemed unmoved, almost relieved when told of his death.

Seized by an insane urge to laugh, she cried instead,
a torrent of tears bursting forth to stream down her face.

Alexandre came to her
quickly, folding her quivering body in his embrace. The keening wail she’d caged in her throat shuddered to be free as she nestled her face against his warm neck. It escaped, only to be captured and calmed by the moist caress of his lips as he covered her mouth with his.

Dugald
’s kisses had been demanding, ugly, rough. Alexandre’s caress asked nothing, but promised everything. She was keenly aware of the hard heat of his body pressed against her, but his kiss was gentle, soothing—until he coaxed her mouth open with his tongue, lighting a fire in her most private place.

She
arched into him, twining her arms around his neck, her sobs turning to a groan of longing that emerged unbidden from deep within.

His tongue mated with hers, sucking, teasing. He nibbled her lower lip, then tightened his hold and plunged in his tongue again, drawing hers into his mouth.

Desire warmed her thighs, spiraling into the core of her being. This was the all-consuming passion a man and a woman were supposed to share. She’d longed for it, and wanted with all her heart to surrender to it now. But she couldn’t. She braced her hands on his chest and eased away.

“I won’t let you go this time,” he breathed, nuzzling her neck. “We must talk.”

An insistent but pleasant ache tiptoed up her spine and teased her nipples. “There is nothing to discuss.”

She squealed
in surprise when he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently then knelt on one knee, planting his hands on the mattress on either side of her head. She turned away from his piercing gaze as he loomed over her.

His nearness was overwhelming. If only she were a simple serving woman, she could reach up and touch his face, erase the frown that furrowed his brow.

“Look at me, Elayne. Tell me the truth. Are you married?”

She looked into his eyes and saw herself
in those blue depths. She couldn’t lie to this man. “I am widowed,” she confessed. “Dugald is dead.”

His eyes brightened.
“Then there is hope for us?”

She struggled to sit upright. “How can there be a future for us, Alexandre? My children’s lives may depend on my fulfilling my role. Maud must be convinced Henry and Claricia are the King’s legitimate grandchildren.”

“But I can protect you, all of you.”

She shook her head vehemently. “You cannot protect us from Maud. Your father swore allegiance to her.”

He stood abruptly, raking both hands through his black hair. “Many of those who pledged to her have broken the oath, claiming it was given under duress. The Montbryces in England are for Stephen. I don’t like the idea of going to war against my family, and I am more and more convinced Stephen is the better monarch.”

Elayne fisted her hands in the skirts of her
bliaut
. “But Henry and Claricia’s grandfather is for Maud. If we change allegiance, we can never return to our homeland. My son and daughter carry royal blood in their veins, though their father was illegitimate. Can I deny them their birthright?

“You are a powerful ally for Maud. She will not let you go without
taking revenge. You could lose Montbryce Castle.”

He came back to the bed, holding out his hands.
“And more. But you have taught me to listen to my heart, and it tells me you are my future. You and your children.”

Elayne had spent enough of her life with
Dugald that she recognized male lust, and had no doubt Alexandre de Montbryce wanted her. She desired him, so she understood. But did he love her as she loved him?

Did
it matter so long as she could spend her life with him, however brief that life might be? She was bone weary of trying to do it all herself.

She put her hands in his,
cheered by the warmth of his skin. “You must do what you think is right. I am a mere woman, without power. I consign myself and my children to your care.”

~~~

A MAELSTROM OF CONFUSED THOUGHTS swirled through Alex’s head, his senses already intoxicated by the scent of female arousal. Elayne wanted him, of that he was certain. In a matter of moments they could both be naked, pleasuring each other. His rock-hard shaft approved of the idea.

But did she love him? She’d flinched away from him once, thinking he meant to harm her. He cursed her dead husband for the damage he’d apparently wrought. If he took her too quickly, she might never come to love him.

He craved her body, but he longed for her love.

It occurred to him Henry and Claricia could be his allies in the campaign to win her. The possibility of a ready
-made family elated him.

The oath to Maud had to be dealt with. His own family would support his decision to side with Stephen, but Maud and Geoffrey would be incensed. Elayne was right that there would be retribution.

Despite the danger, his mind was clearer on the subject than it had ever been. It was as if Elayne freed his brain from the morass of years of resenting the mantle his father had passed to him.

Now he recognized he was born to be
Comte
. What had Marguerite said? The long awaited heir to Montbryce. His mother had often told him she’d wanted him to bear the name of a fabled Emperor.

Pride swelled his heart. He looked into the eyes of the woman who had changed his life, filled with regret that this wouldn’t be the night of their first joining. “Get some sleep, Elayne. We must return to Montbryce as soon as possible.”

Disappointment flashed briefly in her eyes, easing the ache. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Their time would come. He kissed her forehead, squeezed her hands, and left.