La Flamme (Historical Romance) (26 page)

"I don't like leaving you, Sabine."

She tried to make light of their parting as she took him in her arms. "We shall soon be together again." He relaxed against her and then pulled himself up stiff, trying to act grown. "You will take care of yourself, and let me know as soon as the baby is born?" She smiled at him. "Of course." "It is time that I learn to take care of myself." "It is," she said sincerely, thinking how young and frightened he seemed at the moment. She touched his cheek. "Be diligent in your work habits; father would have expected it of you."

Richard studied the tip of his boot, and she knew he was trying not to cry. "I shall."

"Good-bye, Richard. Write as often as you are able."

He nodded and climbed into the coach, waving until he was out of sight. This was the first time she and Richard had been parted, and Sabine felt an ache in her heart. She reminded herself that he needed to be with boys of his own age and rank, but the ache would not go away.

Sabine pulled her woolen cape about her to protect herself from the cold. Not wanting to face anyone at the moment, she walked toward the meadow. She took the familiar path that she had trod so often as a child. This was her last day at Woodbridge, and she wanted to imprint each memory on her mind.

She passed stone barns that brimmed from a bountiful fall harvest, then continued toward high ground, where she could see all of Woodbridge. Glancing toward the castle, she watched threads of gray smoke curl skyward from numerous chimneys, then looked around at the meadow and hills. In the spring, they would be dotted with wildflowers but she would not see it.

Sabine didn't know how long she stood there taking in the beauty around her. It stopped snowing, so she pushed the hood off her head and allowed her hair to blow free.

At last, she turned to the frozen stream, remembering the night it had been a raging torrent that had carried her and Richard to safety. There were memories here that she would always cherish, and some she wanted to forget.

She shaded her eyes and glanced upward, where a brilliant blue seemed to compete with the purple storm clouds that hovered low in the eastern sky.

With a sigh, she walked toward the castle. She had one more place to visit.

Sabine entered the family crypt and went directly to her parents' tombs. Dropping to her knees, she paid her last tribute to her mother and father. She felt so alone with no one to counsel her about the future.

Lovingly she touched each cold stone crypt and then walked out into the sunlight. Tomorrow she would leave for Wolfeton Keep.

She heard footsteps and turned to see Garreth approach. He took her arm, wanting to reassure himself that she was there. When she hadn't returned after Richard's departure, he had feared she had run away again. "You should go in now. It's bitterly cold."

She allowed him to lead her forward. "I hadn't noticed." "You have to think of the baby, if you won't think of yourself."

She looked into his eyes. "Do you ever think of it?" "That's why I'm here, remember?" "Yes, of course. You came for your baby." He looked away from her. "That is the tie that binds us, Sabine."

She was suddenly cold ... all the way to her heart.

29

A bright sun was shining, and the snow had melted except for the places that were protected from the sun. Sitting beside Ysabel in the carriage, Sabine refused to look out the window for a last glimpse of the castle. The procession wound its way through Woodbridge. Many of the villagers came out of their cottages to bid her farewell. There were tears in her eyes as she waved back.

Ysabel tried to distract her. "I have never known such comfort. This is a well-sprung coach; we have fur lap robes, satin pillows, and foot warmers. I am content."

Sabine's eyes were still shining with tears as she looked at Ysabel. "It seems that my husband has provided every luxury. But how will I bear his coldness to me?"

"You brought out fire in him before, Sabine, you will do it again. Time and patience will be your weapons," the old woman said cryptically.

Sabine look at Garreth, who was riding beside the coach. He wore a black cape, and his long dark hair rippled in the wind. He looked not at her, but straight ahead. Oh, how she loved him. But he must not know.

"We were never meant to be husband and wife, Ysabel," she said sadly. "There are too many differences between us, and too many wounds left unhealed."

"You will meet him more than halfway and heal the hurts—the differences do not matter. I was nothing like my husband, and yet we were happy every day of our marriage."

"Garreth and I have been unhappy every day of ours."

Even Ysabel had nothing to say to that, for it was true.

It was nearing the noon hour when Garreth stopped at a small country inn. He helped Sabine inside, where he asked for a private room. She was soon seated before a warm fire as a maid served a luncheon of mutton stew, cheese, and fresh baked bread.

Garreth sat beside her, his gaze straying often to her face. "You are not overly weary?" he asked.

She met his eyes. "Not in the least. I'm strong."

He broke off a piece of crusty bread and placed it on her plate. "So I've observed. Nonetheless, I have instructed my captain to travel slowly and stop often to allow you to rest. Arrangements have been made at inns along the way to offer you shelter."

She looked puzzled. "Will you not be coming with us?"

"No, this is where 1 leave you. I must be in London by tomorrow. If there is anything you need, you have but to tell Captain Barkley."

She looked away so he would not see her disappointment. "You should leave at once. It is yet a long ride to London."

He stood. "Yes, I must." He worked his fingers into his black leather gloves and pulled his cape about his shoulders. "My servants will see you settled when you reach the Keep. Should you need to contact me, I'll be staying at Blackthorn House. Captain Barkley knows how to reach me."

She made no reply, nor did she look at him. In a move that surprised her, he took her arm and brought her up beside him. "Must you do this?"

She blinked her eyes. "Do what?"

"Damn it, do you sentence me to a life of contrition?"

She shook her head as his grip on her tightened. "I don't mean to."

"You submit too easily. What has happened to your unconquerable spirit?"

Now her eyes flamed, and her lips tightened. "Do not let my obliging manner lull you into believing that I am disposed to do your bidding, Garreth. I will go to Wolfeton Keep, and I will have your baby there—beyond that, I promise nothing."

He brought her closer to him, and she caught her breath at the smile that curved his lips. "This is the woman I know." He laid his face against hers. "What new method of torture have you devised for me?"

She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and feel his arms about her. Instead, she turned away, moving back to the fire. "If you are tortured, it is not of my doing, Garreth."

"Is it not?" He abruptly swept her a bow. "When next I see you, it will be at Wolfeton Keep."

She did not watch him leave, but she listened until the sound of his footsteps died away. She wondered why she no longer fought him. She could have told him that she was weary from years of fighting just to keep herself and Richard alive. She now had the heart of a woman, and oh, it hurt so badly.

Picking up her cape, she left the room. It was yet five days to Wolfeton Keep.

Captain Barkley was most attentive and saw to Sabine's needs before they arose. The coach moved swiftly across the wooden bridge that spanned a meandering brook with large chunks of ice floating on the surface.

"Ysabel, I never expected to feel so strongly about Wolfeton Keep—It's somehow like coming home. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Perhaps you feel that way because you have known since you were young that this would one day be your home."

As the carriage topped a hill, she could see Wolfeton Hamlet. It appeared so natural in its setting that it seemed to be woven into the fabric of the land, as if it had always been there. In the distance, Sabine caught only brief glimpses of the huge castle nestled in a wooded area high above the village they were approaching.

"I can see by the architectural style that the village was built by the Normans. Look, Ysabel, instead of thatched cottages like at Woodbridge, these are built of limestone. There must be a limestone quarry nearby."

Ysabel looked with interest at the quaint shops with pointed roofs and gables. "I do not know about such things. But I see that the village prospers."

"Yes," Sabine agreed. "It is evident that my husband looks after his people."

The horses slowed their pace as they entered the village. She had not expected to find the villagers lining the cobble streets. The men removed their caps and bowed, while the women curtsied. Children waved and ran alongside the coach.

"What a wonderful welcome," Sabine said, waving through the window and smiling at the children.

"They will have been curious about you, since you are their lord's wife."

Captain Barkley smiled at her as she opened the window. "I believe they love you already, Your Grace."

She waved at the children until the village was left behind. Now the coach travelled faster, so Sabine leaned back and thought of her new home.

They sped through a maze of narrow lanes and then began to ascend a hill. The horses' hooves clattered over a narrow wooden bridge, then down a cobble roadway. Just ahead, the turrets, battlement towers, and clusters of Tudor chimneys of the great castle rose ghostlike through a winter mist.

The massive oak gates of Wolfeton Keep swung open to allow them passage through the arched gatehouse. The horses clattered over another wooden bridge that took them into the inner courtyard of the castle.

When the carriage came to a stop, Sabine was aided from the coach by a footman, and then alone she walked toward the castle.

Two servants stood on the steps—a man and woman. As Sabine approached, the man bowed and the woman dipped into a curtsy. The woman smiled, softening her angular face, and her gray eyes sparkled with warmth.

"Your Grace, I am Ida North, the housekeeper. This is George Brook, the butler. May I say what a joyous day this is for all of us? Welcome to Wolfeton Keep."

The butler bowed to her. "I shall see to your trunks, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Mrs. North, Brook." She indicated Ysabel with a nod. "This is Ysabel Agostino, my personal maid."

Garreth's butler and housekeeper looked at Ysabel with respect, and Mrs. North spoke. "Mrs. Agostino, we all stand ready to be of assistance to you in any way."

Sabine looked up at the wide double doors and climbed slowly up the steps. At last, after all these years, she had arrived at Wolfeton Keep.

The Lord Chamberlain pushed the door open and allowed Garreth to precede him. "Your Majesty, his grace, the duke of Balmarough," he announced.

Garreth approached the king and bowed. "You sent for me, Sire?"

"I did," Charles Stuart said heatedly. "I am pleased that you arrived promptly, even though 1 am not pleased with you, sir."

There was a cynical twist to Garreth's lips. "I would not want to be the object of my king's displeasure. Pray tell me what I have done, so that I might rectify it."

King Charles glared at him. "What you've done is most distressing to myself and the queen. You live at one place and your wife at another. 1 won't have it! I want both of you to reside at Wolfeton Keep, or else there will be those who will suppose that you cannot control your own wife."

"Then they would suppose correctly, Your Majesty."

Garreth's manner was deferential, but King Charles was not duped, for he recognized all too well that look of defiance in Garreth's dark eyes. "This marriage has been a millstone about my neck from its conception. Would that I had never insisted on this alliance."

Garreth's eyes darkened. "It distresses me that you are displeased."

The king looked sharply at Garreth. Again the words implied respect, the tone did not. "You will obey my order at once and take your wife to your home."

"Your Majesty, I would have brought the duchess with me if she were not with child."

"What say you?" King Charles' eyes lit up and he turned to his minister. "You did not tell me this. How can there be trouble with a marriage where there is a child on the way?"

"Sire," the minister answered, "we did not know that there is to be a child."

The king turned back to Garreth, in a jovial mood. "Your wife has consented to live with you and drop this silly nuisance about an annulment."

"That is so, Your Majesty."

Now that the king was satisfied that Garreth had taken his wife in hand, he became happier still. "How is the hunting at the Keep this year?"

"Stag hunting is good, Sire, but the boar hunting is better."

"I may be coming your way, perhaps late in the spring." He smiled. "Since yours is a marriage of my choosing, I would be most pleased to see it flourish. I'll have no difficulty with Lord Richard since he's under my direction and not the troublemaker his father was."

"My brother-in-law is but a boy, Your Majesty, and boys grow into men."

"True, true." The king stroked his beard for a moment. "Then we can assume this breech in your marriage is ended?"

"You can assume that, Your Majesty."

King Charles leaned forward so only Garreth could hear. "You were quite resourceful in bringing your wife about." Then he moved back. "You may take leave of us now, but expect us at Wolfeton Keep before the year has ended."

"We look forward to the honor, Your Majesty."

Garreth backed to the door, turned, and walked into the anteroom and down the wide steps. He did not see Eugenia Meredith until she stood in front of him, blocking his path, her eyes riveted on his.

"Garreth," she said breathlessly, "I could play coy and pretend that this is a chance meeting, but in truth, I knew you had been summoned by the king and I have watched for you."

"Lady Meredith," he said absently, sweeping his hat off and bowing to her. His mind was still on his conversation with the king, and the hardness in his eyes showed his displeasure.

"Does it take a king's command to bring you to London?" she asked, linking her arm through his.

Garreth searched Eugenia's face, trying to see what had attracted him to her so long ago. She had changed but little, and was still beautiful. She was dressed in a fashionable green silk cape. From the look of the jewels that sparkled on her hands, it was apparent she was doing well.

He removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Lady Meredith," he said, his distant tone disavowing his words. All he wanted to do was leave, but he smiled politely. "Time has been good to you."

"Always the gallant, Garreth. You do know how to flatter a woman. But it is hardly flattering that you act as though we are only passing acquaintances. Have you forgotten so easily how close we once were, and that you once called me by name?"

He had not seen her since the day he told her about his marriage and she had made such a scene. "I remember, Eugenia."

His obvious eagerness to leave fueled her anger. He seemed totally unaware that two young ladies had moved closer, hoping to be noticed by him. Eugenia turned to glare at them, and they hurried away.

She looked over Garreth with a ravenous hunger. He was so dashing in deep blue breeches and doublet with hip-high boots. Loving him had cost her dearly, in money and hiding after Cortland was arrested. She had lived in fear that he would betray her, but he hadn't. Now she reached out for Garreth without fear. He still excited her as no other man could. She had to make him see that they would be perfect lovers.

"I know that you have not forgotten me, and I think about you every day," she purred. "I have heard that your little wife has been located. Is she still a drab little thing, Garreth?"

"If you will excuse me, Eugenia, I must leave."

Her lip trembled and her eyes grew teary. "What about us?"

He now looked into her eyes, and saw smoldering passion reflected there. "What happened between us burned out long ago, Eugenia."