Love Never Lies (37 page)

She shrugged, coming to her feet. “Only to know what the chances are of being accosted by one of them, or having to listen to them
recount
your prowess or failure in bed.”

“Failure?” he said, emerging from pulling his surcoat on over his head. “I’ve had no complaints.”

His casual confidence chafed. She had the urge to knock him down a peg or two. But to say she had not enjoyed making love to him would be untrue, in fact ‘twas a vast understatement. She had never experienced anything like it, and doubted she ever would again.

It made her curious to know if he had enjoyed it as much as she had. But, it wasn’t the sort of thing she could ask. ‘Twas shameful enough, to allow her desire to rule her good sense without shouting it to the highest tree top and demanding he do the same.

They had shared their bodies, but he had promised nothing else.

And yet, she could not help but wonder where she stood in the crowd of women who were now his memories, something she would soon become, once the ransom was paid and she left Highburn forever.

Would he forget her?

Or would he remember her with fondness, despite all that her family had done.

“There have been none at Highburn,” he said striding toward their mounts.

None.

That was curious.

Not that she cared.

Why should she?

But strangely, knowing it lightened her heart as well as her step as she hastened to catch up with him.

“You should have seen her face!” Hilarity clung to Gwen’s words, as she swept the broom across the flags of the chamber Abigail and Darcy had just vacated. A smile tugged at the corners of Gwen’s mouth. “Her tongue dropped to floor, it did. I thought her eyes would jump right out of her head.”

“I dare say they did.” Isabeau didn’t bother to suppress her own smile as she bundled up the sheets on the bed. She would have dearly loved to witness Abigail’s consternation at finding another woman in Dominic’s bed.

“She said she was sleepwalkin’. I don’t believe a word of it. She looked no more asleep than my sire with his face over a haunch of mutton.”

“Well, she’s gone, thankfully,” Isabeau said over her shoulder, lugging the bundle of sheets to the door. “You’ll not be disturbed by her nocturnal wanderings again.”

“A good thing for all our sakes, yours especially, my lady,” Gwen returned with great feeling. “A little birdie told me ‘twas her who told your cousin where to find you.”

Isabeau swung round in the doorway, neither shocked nor surprised at Abigail’s actions, but curious as to how she could have accomplished such a feat.
“Who?”

“Servants talk, my lady.” A knowing gleam lit Gwen’s eyes. “Lord Langley’s lands aren’t so far from ‘ere. Half my kin dwells there, they do.
There’s
only so many men to be found in Highburn without marryin’ your own brother.” Gwen’s lips curled in a satisfied grin. “’Twas my brother who heard of Lady Abigail’s mischief, how she paid Lady Anna’s maid, a cousin of mine, I’m ashamed to say, to give your cousin the message at the tourney.”

“Does Lord Fortin know of this?”

 
“Nay, my lady.”
Gwen’s face paled, as though it had just struck her what sharing this information might mean. Should Fortin get wind of it, he would certainly send the maid packing for her treachery, as soon as he and Lady Anna were wed.

“Just as well.”
Isabeau offered a reassuring smile. “’Tis too late to change what happened. I’m sure your cousin only sought to do good by saving a lady in distress.”

“‘Twas more likely the coin,” Gwen said wryly. “She’s a grasping little strumpet, may God forgive me for speaking ill of my own kin. But not very wise, if you be askin’ me, to risk losing such a fine position.”

If, Lady Anna considered it a breach of trust, Isabeau mused, heading for the clean sheets piled on a chair by the hearth to begin making the bed. Lady Anna might feel all too pleased to have her out of the way, especially if she believed Fortin’s prisoner was competing for his affections.

A shiver rattled through Isabeau as she shook one of the sheets to billow high above the bed. Abigail was gone. She should be jumping up and down with glee. But the thought of another jealous female out for her blood dampened her relief. Not that she could do aught about it.

The best she could hope for was to stay out of Lady Anna’s way—avoid any contact, which should not prove difficult. If Fortin wished to marry the Lady he’d not wish for her to get wind of his recent dalliance.

Something she would rather not think about.

Although, it made her heart heavy, just the same, bringing a catch to her throat.

But right now, thankfully, there was no time to dwell on it with so much work to be done. She’d returned to Highburn last eventide to discover the upstairs chambers in a shambles.

With Myrtle and Gwen running hither and thither to see to Abigail’s every whim as she and Darcy prepared to depart, there had been no time for their regular chores. Fortunately, Gwen had offered to help after the hall was tidied or ‘twould have taken days for Isabeau to put everything to rights.

After this chamber was put to rights, Dominic’s needed a good scrubbing. He’d left for Normandy after breaking his fast that morn. Isabeau missed his laughter and teasing already. He could always coax a smile to her lips, despite Alec glaring down at them from the other end of the high table.

Highburn would not be the same without Dominic.

 
At least she’d no longer be forced to share a bedchamber with his brother—a blessing after what had happened at the river. She could not trust herself, sleeping so close to him. The mere sight of him stirred longings inside of her she had no right to feel. Her body grew hot just thinking of him.

The best thing she could do was to keep her distance—avoid temptation. The less contact they had the better. Losing her virtue to escape marrying Newbury was one thing—giving herself over to the sins of passion like she had at the river quite another.
Because, without a marriage contract, that’s all it was—an indulgence of the flesh.

‘Twould be foolish to risk the consequences. She’d tempted fate once too often already.

Isabeau threw herself into work to shut out the devilish urgings which put her soul in peril.

By the time both rooms were set to rights, beds made, grates cleaned, most of the day was spent.

Gwen helped her to lug her casket of clothes to the chamber Dominic had vacated,
then
hustled off below to the hall to help Myrtle serve the eventide meal.

Isabeau set about laying a fire in the hearth.

She had lain but two sticks of wood when the prickly sense of someone watching her made her rise and turn from the task.

Fortin stood in the doorway, looking dark and wild as he always did, an inscrutable look on his face. “Food is on the table. I await your company, my lady.”

“Why?” She kept her tone light, though her belly fluttered as she turned to lay more sticks on the grate. “There’s no need. Dominic and Abigail are gone.” Besides, ‘twould only serve to remind her of all she’d lost. To sit beside him at the high table like husband and wife, exchanging tales of their day, seemed too bitter a draught to swallow.

“Because I wish it.”

“Why?” She rose from her haunches to face him. “I’m the enemy, remember?”

His face creased in a devilish smile. “No enemy has ever returned my kisses with such zeal.”

She arched one brow, ignoring the erratic beat of her heart. “Are you in the habit of kissing your prisoners, my lord?”

“Only the comely ones.”

“Have you had many?”

He crossed his arms, accentuating the width of his broad chest.
“Nay.”
His voice grew soft and husky.
“Only you.”

A shiver of pleasure rushed through her. After sharing her body with him, he was no longer a foe, but nor was he a friend. She wasn’t certain what he
was,
only that whenever he was near, every part of her wished to touch every part of him.

Rot!

Why did life have to be so complicated?

Why couldn’t she just hate him and be done with it.

That would be the normal thing to do—the safe course of action.

 
But, she had never been one to take the safe route, had she.

She looked up to find him smiling at her with a twinkle of mischief in his sapphire eyes.

Her heart raced over the hill and through the woods. “What will Lady Anna think?”

He shrugged. “Why should I care what she thinks?”

“Servants talk. ’Twould harm your suit, if you wish to offer for her hand.”

 
He gave her a long look. “For an enemy, you’re overly concerned with my future.”

She flushed under the heat of his intense gaze. It wasn’t the response she was looking for. Her tongue fairly itched to come right out and ask if he intended to marry Lady Anna or not, but her mind rebelled at letting him know how much she cared—that she was sick with jealousy.

If asked, she would certainly deny it. But nothing else could account for the queasy churning in her belly whenever she imagined the two of them standing at the altar.
Or, encased beneath the furs on his bed.

She sucked in a long fortifying breath, attempting to come to terms with the shocking revelation that she was fast losing her heart to the man who held her captive.

How could that be, after all he had done to her? ‘Twas a complete waste of her affections, and could come to naught in the end. He’d never offer marriage, feeling such malice for her family. And yet, she couldn’t help it.

“Marry her if you wish. You have my blessing,” she said, saying a silent prayer that the Lord forgave her for the lie. Her tone grew tart, vexed that he had somehow managed to wheedle his way into her heart. “I only hope she isn’t as single-minded as Abigail in her quest for love, or the next time I scrub the laundry, you’ll find me at the bottom of the river.”

 
His black brows contracted. “Who told you this?
Barak?”

“Nay.”
She shrugged, choosing her words carefully, not wishing to betray Gwen’s confidence by implicating her cousin. “But it stands to
reason,
Abigail was the only one who stood to gain from my disappearance.”

He nodded, apparently having already reached the same conclusion. “She would have needed help—a messenger. Even she isn’t so brazen as to be seen in the company of the enemy at a tournament.” His voice went cold. “When I find out who it was, I’ll cut out their tongue.”

Isabeau shivered. Hopefully, for Gwen’s cousin’s sake, he never did, though she wasn’t surprised by his reaction. In these perilous times, traitors could not be tolerated. The right information in the wrong hands could mean the loss of everything you held dear—your
home, your loved ones, even
your life. The ransom would go a long way to securing his future and that of his people. Helping Abigail was a strike against all of Highburn.

“Come,” He held out his hand. “Our food grows cold.”

How could she refuse such an invitation—precious time spent with him? All too soon she’d be gone from here—never to see him again.

She nodded, but ignored his hand, hastening past him toward the door. After all she was hungry. She had to eat, didn’t she?