Knight of Seduction (18 page)

Anne glanced over her shoulder, studiously avoiding her husband where he prowled behind Dorag.

“I will be in my room,” she said.  “I don’t know when I will come down again.  Have someone deliver my food.  Other than that, I don’t wish to be bothered.  However any of you choose to run this castle, I don’t care to be apprised.”

She kept on.  To her great relief, Hugh did not follow.   

CHAPTER TEN

Hugh tried the latch on Anne’s door, but it was barred.

He’d been hoping she’d cheerily admit him, but in his heart, he’d known it wouldn’t be that simple.  She’d had the entire day to calm herself, and again, he’d hoped that she’d attend the evening meal, but she hadn’t.

Hugh had sat at the head table with Henry.  Neither of them had mentioned the incident at Bedelia’s house, and Hugh had forced himself to eat, to ignore the accusing glances shot at him as he studiously pretended naught was amiss.

While he was the lord and master of Castle Morven, and the people in it had grown to esteem him, he couldn’t deny that they probably loved Anne more.  After years of suffering under Blodwin’s cunning thumb, Anne’s management had been a breath of fresh air.

No one could believe he’d hurt her in such a terrible way. 

He couldn’t believe it himself.

“Anne?”  He knocked and listened, but received no reply, and his temper flared.

He actually considered kicking in the blasted door, but he’d caused enough trouble, and he refused to exacerbate matters by bullying her.

“Anne, open up,” he murmured.  “I must speak with you.”

To his surprise, he heard her approaching, and he held his breath, waiting with incredible anticipation for the moment he would see her.

He wasn’t an articulate man.  She knew that about him, but he thought he could explain himself, thought he could make her understand.  He thought he could move them beyond what had transpired.

But if he couldn’t, what then?

Without a word of greeting, she pulled the door wide and stepped aside to allow him entrance.  He hesitated, recognizing that he wasn’t welcome, but it was his castle and she was his wife.

He watched as she went over to a chair by the hearth and sat down.  He felt bumbling and discomfited, confused about where to start.  As he assessed her livid, aggrieved countenance, he might have been looking at a stranger.

“We must talk,” he told her.

“If you’ve come to exercise your marital rights, I’m afraid I can’t oblige you.”

“We get along better when we’re engaging in love play.  Perhaps we should go to your bed.  It might be easier to discuss what needs to be said.”

He tried for a grin, but couldn’t manage it.  He was teasing, assuming that a reference to the many wonderful nights they’d spent together might lessen her fury, but he’d misjudged.

“If your masculine drives require tending,” she responded, “I suggest you walk down to the kitchen and ask the maids.  I’m sure there are several who would be glad to service you.”

“That was uncalled for,” he scolded.

“Was it?”

She was seated, and he was standing, which he hated.  Their contrary positions too starkly underscored their differences, and it seemed as if he was lording himself over her.  He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he didn’t dare, so he braced his hands behind his back, his fingers linked to keep them away from her.

“I’m sorry you overheard me when I was with Henry this morning.  We’re men; we’re used to being crude.  I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I’m not bringing Charmaine to Morven.”

“Bring her or don’t.  It matters not to me.”

“Anne,” he scolded again. 

Things weren’t proceeding as he’d envisioned.  He’d planned to announce his separation from Charmaine, to beg Anne’s pardon—receive it—and then, they’d go on as they had been.

Anne was a tolerant person, a perceptive person, a smart person.  He’d persuaded himself that, if he reminded her of all that had happened to him in the past year, of all that had changed, she’d comprehend his reasoning and choices.

But he hadn’t factored in her being a female, being a romantic sort.  He’d never previously fretted over a woman’s feelings, had never been close enough to a woman for
feelings
to develop, and he hadn’t a clue how to sweep away the upset she was experiencing. 

“I was introduced to Charmaine in Normandy, and I—”

“Don’t speak her name in my presence.”

Contrite, he bowed his head.  “When I invited her to join me, I didn’t know you yet.”

“Long before you arrived, you had decided to wed in Morven.”

“Well…yes.”

 “Your bride could have been me or Rosamunde or any of a number of girls in the area.” 

“Well…yes,” he repeated more slowly.

“You came here, intending to insult your bride—be it me or another.”

He gnawed on his cheek, wanting to defend himself, but not sure how.

When he’d left Charmaine in London with instructions that she would soon follow him to the country, it had all seemed so simple.

He’d never peered down the road to this hideous moment, where he’d be caught in a transgression of his own making.  How was he to get himself out of it?

“I wasn’t going to bring her to Morven,” he insisted.  “Not after I met you.”

“Then what was all that I heard in my mother’s house today?”

“That was Henry and me talking in a ribald fashion—as we’re wont to do.  You shouldn’t think anything of it.”

She snorted and gazed down at her lap. 

“Would you permit me to enter the convent now?” she asked.

“No.”

“I don’t mind leaving.  I’ve always yearned to take the veil, and it would be the best result for you, too.  If I am sent away, you can behave however you wish.”

“I’ll never let you go,” he vehemently said.  He walked over and grabbed her hands, squeezing tight, trying to imbue his grip with the firmness of his resolve to keep her with him.

She looked up, and tears seeped from her eyes.

“I can’t do this with you, Lord Hugh.  I can’t live like this.”

“Like what?”  He couldn’t conceal his exasperation.  “I told you she’s not coming.  I penned a letter, advising her to return to Normandy.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, Anne.  I wanted to save you all this anguish.”  He swiped the tears from her cheeks.  “Don’t be sad.  I can’t bear it when you are.”

“Why force me to stay at Morven?” she pressed.  “Why force me when I am so unhappy?”

“You haven’t always been upset with me.  We’ve been content, haven’t we?  It hasn’t all been awful.”

He’d supplied an opening for her, where she could say
yes,
they’d had some pleasant times and would have many more in the future.

To his consternation, she didn’t agree with him.

“Lord Hugh, I have known you but a few weeks, and in that short period, I’ve been confronted twice—not once, but twice—with your attempts at adultery.”

“I didn’t proceed!”

“Only because I thwarted you.  I can’t be with you constantly.  I can’t be there to intervene, to beg you not to, and I will not be that person.”

“There will be no other women, Anne.  I swear it to you.”

“You’re a liar, remember?  You confessed that it’s your worst trait.”

“I’m on the mend.”  He smiled down at her.  “Since I met you, I’m trying to be a better man.”

“You don’t have to change because of me.  You’ve been a bachelor for many years, and it’s blatantly apparent that you weren’t ready to abandon the indulgences you enjoyed.  It’s all right with me.  You should be free to carry on however you like.  Just don’t drag me into it.  I’d rather not have to watch.”

He sighed with frustration, wondering what to do.  He might have leaned down and kissed her, but she slid from her chair and went to the door. 

She gestured to the hall, indicating that he should leave, but he couldn’t make himself go.  There was the strangest sensation in the center of his chest—as if his heart was breaking. 

In her current state, it was futile to continue the conversation, but the oddest sentiment plagued him, that if he departed he might never see her again.  Which was silly.  Of course, he’d see her again.  She was mistress of Castle Morven.  She was his wife.  There was nowhere for her to go. 

Still, he felt horrid.  He hadn’t said what he’d meant to say, hadn’t been clear, hadn’t been cogent in his persuasion.  He really could be quite a fine man, but he’d provided her with scant reasons to believe it.

He approached until they were toe to toe.

“We’ll get through this,” he advised her.

“I’m sure we will,” she blandly concurred.

“Give it a few days.”

“I will.”

“Promise me that…”  He cut off.  What did he want from her?  Trust?  Love?  Forgiveness?  All of those things?  “Promise me that you’ll think about what I said.  Promise me that you’ll try to forgive me.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, Lord Hugh,” she replied, but from her cool demeanor, it was obvious she hadn’t.

“Good night then,” he murmured.

“Good night.”

She gestured to the hall again.  He reached out as if he might stroke his fingers down her cheek, but she flinched away so he couldn’t.

He was a fool, sick with regret and remorse.  How was he to convey the depth of his torment?

He left without another word.

*          *          *          *

“You summoned me, my High-and-Mighty, Lady Anne?”

“Yes, Blodwin, come in.”

In a detached silence, Anne observed as Blodwin entered her bedchamber.  She was alone as Anne had requested.

“Shut the door,” Anne said.

“Oh, a private audience.  I’m so honored!”  Blodwin sneered, but complied.

“Did anyone see you climb the stairs?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“Sit.”

Anne indicated the chairs by the fire.  Blodwin seated herself, then Anne joined her.

It should have been awkward.  After all, they were the chairs that had once been Blodwin’s.  They were staring into the hearth that had once been Blodwin’s.

It
might
have been awkward, but Anne was beyond caring.  Blodwin could have it all back, and Anne was eager to relinquish it.

“I must admit,” Blodwin sniped, “that you don’t look too cheery.  What’s wrong?  Could it be that your grand husband is turning out to be more than you can handle?”

There were no secrets in the castle, and by now, everyone would have heard that Hugh’s amour was coming to Morven.  Blodwin would have heard it, too.  No doubt she’d been laughing nonstop.

“I need your help,” Anne said. 

“With what?  Shouldn’t we be down in the great hall, making plans for the beautiful Charmaine’s arrival?”

Blodwin chortled with malicious glee, and Anne scrutinized her, thinking how she loathed her, how glad she would be to never speak with her again.

Gradually, Blodwin’s mirth faded, and she collected herself, recognizing that it was pointless to mock Anne.  Anne had moved far past the spot where Blodwin could affect her.

“What is it you want, Anne?” Blodwin asked.  “Tell me so I can decide if it’s worth my time to assist you.”

“I should like to leave Castle Morven.”

“To go where?  I have no money to send you to a convent, and I’m positive your husband would never provide it.”

“You know my uncles’ schedule.  In the summer, they’re performing in the towns north of here.  I’ll go to them—as I should have years ago.”

“And what will you do once you find them?”

“Vanish.”

Blodwin’s gaze narrowed, and she assessed Anne as if she’d never seen her before, as if she’d metamorphosed into someone Blodwin had never met.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Blodwin mused.

Anne ignored her comment.  “You’ve always yearned to be shed of me.  Here’s your chance.”

“What benefit is it to me now?”

“You could have your castle back.”

“How?”

“In a few months, I’ll have a message delivered that I died in a fire or was killed in an accident.  Hugh will be a widower.  You can marry Rosamunde to him, as should have happened in the first place.  Or you can marry him yourself, Blodwin.  How old are you?  Thirty-six?  You’re not that much older than he is.  Snag him for your own—with my blessing.”

“Why would I curse myself with the likes of Lord Hugh?  I already had a husband who lifted the skirt of every female who sauntered by.  I hardly pine for another who is even worse.”

“Snag him for Rosamunde then.  She’s so self-centered; she’ll never notice if he strays, and if she
does
notice, she won’t care.  You can both stay here, and you can continue to be in charge.”

Blodwin expression became shrewd.  “What’s in it for me?”

“I told you:  the castle, with Lord Hugh as your son-in-law.”

“Your idea has some merit.”  She was nodded, calculating.  “What if I betray you to Hugh?  What if I tell him what you’re planning?  I bet he’d reward me quite generously.”

“I’ll simply say you’re lying—he’ll never believe you over me—then I’ll have him lock you away in that convent you denied me.”

Blodwin snickered.  “Well, well, my timid little Anne has finally grown a spine.”  She considered a moment more, then nodded again.  “I’ll do it for you.  I’ll do it merely to spite him.  I’ll do it merely to see the look on his face when he realizes you ran away.”

“Thank you.”

“I can have you out of here immediately.”

“I’d appreciate it if you would.”  Blodwin stood and went to the door, and Anne asked, “Where are you going?”

“You’ll need a change of clothes.  We have to alter your appearance.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“In the meantime, flag down a maid.  Inform her that you’re not to be disturbed until morning.  That way, it will be tomorrow before anyone suspects you’re missing.”

“I’ll have a day’s head start.”

“Not much when you’re fleeing a man like Hugh, but it will have to do.”

Blodwin left, and Anne walked over to the narrow window to stare out at the castle grounds—what she could view of them anyway.

She was imprinting a memory into her mind so she would never forget the place or the people.  Most had been kind to her, but the ones who’d mattered most—her husband, her father, her stepmother, her sister and brother—had either been cruel or had acted as if she didn’t exist.