wcEND.rtf (26 page)

He smiled bitterly. "I vow by all that is sacred in the Christendom, we shall be together soon, Détra. Hunter shall not have you. Not even over my dead body."

Rupert stomped out of the room, and as soon as the door closed behind him, Isabel wobbled to the bed and sank down onto the soft mattress.

Good God! Nothing was what it seemed.

Isabel tried to put her thoughts in order, but her mind was numb with the horror of the situation. Her head throbbed with pain and her heart squeezed with ache.

Hunter loved Détra, who loved Rupert, who loved Détra in return. Isabel loved Hunter, but she was a nonentity in this time. She didn't exist. Hunter was married to Détra, who wanted to dissolve their marriage, which Isabel had helped consummate.

Isabel covered her face with her hands.

"My lady. Here is your drink."

Isabel uncovered her eyes. Maude knelt before her with a cup in her hand. Isabel took the cup, and in silence sipped her tea, gathering her thoughts.

"Tell me what you know, Maude," Isabel finally pleaded.

Maude trembled and lifted.

Isabel followed her, spinning her around. "You must tell me. I remember nothing."

"Lord Hunter really cares for you," Maude said.

"I know that," Isabel whispered. "Tell me what you know about Rupert."

Maude looked everywhere but at Isabel.

"Please," Isabel begged. Maude was the only one who could elucidate this mystery.

"Your marriage to Lord William was a very unhappy one," Maude said.

"I gathered that by the apple incident you told me."

"Oh, it was so much worse than that, my lady. Lord William was a cruel man." She spat on the floor. "May his soul burn in hell."

Isabel was surprised at the vehemence of Maude's words.

"It is a blessing you remember naught of him," she continued. "Suffice it to say, no one in Windermere mourned his death."

Isabel wanted to rush Maude on, not really interested in Lord William, but bit her tongue, giving Maude freedom to tell the story as she saw fit.

"Soon after the funeral Lord Rupert began visiting you. You have known him for years, both your fathers being acquainted. You were lonely, my lady. You were reeling from years of ill treatment when Lord Rupert courted and wooed you like you had never been wooed before."

The more Maude spoke the worse Isabel felt. Maude's choice of words was revealing in itself. It was as if she was trying to excuse Détra
'
s behavior.

"You knew the king would eventually find you another husband, and fearing another Lord William in your life, you made the decision to wed Lord Rupert."

"You mean to say I would have to accept the king's choice of husband without any recourse?" Freedom was
such an important part of Isabel's life she couldn't fathom the thought of not being able to make her own decisions.

"The Church preaches you cannot be forced into marriage," Maude said with a snort. "But who is foolish enough to defy a king's command?"

Isabel admitted it didn't sound too bright a decision; still it didn't make it right.

"So I wanted to marry Rupert, but the king gave me to Hunter. How come you never told me the truth? Does Hunter know about Rupert and me?"

"Oh, nay, I believe not. Lord Hunter truly cares for you, my lady."

"And Lord Rupert does not?"

"It matters not now. Your marriage to Lord Hunter is consummated; there is no turning back on that."

Isabel stared at Maude. "When was my marriage consummated?"

Maude hesitated.

"When, Maude?"

"I believe it happened in the garrison's quarters two days past."

It was true, then. Détra had wanted out of this marriage and unknowingly Isabel had closed that door. She felt a measure of responsibility toward Détra and yet, her heart cried out for Hunter.

"It is for the best, my lady. Lord Hunter is the man to make you happy."

Indeed he was, but obviously not the right man for Détra. And yet Détra was the one married to Hunter, not Isabel.

Isabel's shoulders slumped. It was all so senseless. And there was nothing she could do to help anyone, least of all herself.

* * *

RUPERT LEFT DÉTRA
'
S CHAMBER IN A FOUL MOOD. SHE had seemed different, more distant somehow, and he liked it not at all. At least she seemed steadfast on her desire to annul her marriage to Hunter, and yet there was hesitancy in her, whereas before there had been only eagerness.

Though Rupert and Détra had concocted the unconsummated marriage plan together, Rupert had not truly expected Hunter to stay away from Détra. That he had truly surp
ri
sed Rupert. No ma
n
in Hunter's place would have hesitated to demand his marital rights from a reluctant wife, especially when property was involved in the matter.

Mayhap Hunter had finally recognized he had no rights to be wedded to a highborn lady, no rights to even aspire to knighthood, bastard villager that he truly was, let alone be anyone's
l
ord
.
I
t would have been infinitely best for all involved had Hunter remained in the village to live the humble life due to him. The only life he deserved.

However, thanks to his father's unbound and inconceivable generosity, Hunter had achieved it al
l
—
k
nighthood, lands, and Détra. The woman who should be his by rights.

Rupert had heard the king had given Hunter his choice of holding and heiress. Could Hunter have chosen D
é
tra out of spite for him? To prove his superiority over Rupert as he had tried many times in the past during the years they trained together at Hawkhaven? The immense hatred for Hunter that simmered for years inside Rupert bubbled to the surface.

Hunter would not be victorious. If he could not count on the king's decision, Rupert would line up another plan to get rid of Hunter. A plan that would not only return D
é
tra to Rupert but also take from Hunter all that he had so undeservedly acquired.

Rupert rounded the corner of the corridor and strode to his father's bedchamber. Knowing Hunter would be inside with his father, he did not knock but pushed the door open.

"Are you my father?"

Rupert froze in place for a moment, then, face
f
laming, tramped inside noisily. "What do you do here, Hunter? I thought you occupied with your new bride. Has the novelty of having a lady in your bed instead of a common wench worn off already?"

Straightening, Hunter slowly turned to face Rupert.

Rupert smiled. A superior smile he particularly liked to use when facing Hunter. Hunter's obvious frustration at his interruption pleased him immensely. He would not allow Hunter to wrestle a misguided confession from an old dying man and use it to make claim on Hawkhaven. Bastard Hunter would remain what he wa
s
—
a
bastard. Hunter had stolen enough from him already. He would steal no more.

"Back already?" Hunter said, his smile as false as Rupert's. "What? You could not find any more unwilling servant wenches to force yourself upon? What about a sword
f
ight with a farmer boy? You have always enjoyed when the odds were in your favor."

"Bastard," Rupert spat, pushing against Hunter.

"Dim-witted fool." Hunter pushed back.

"Cease, boys," Lord Reginald cried. "I have no time for your foolish games." He wheezed, breathing clearly an effort for him. "Rupert, I wish to speak with Hunter alone."

Leave his feeble-minded father with Hunter? "What can you possibly have to discuss with him that you cannot discuss in the presence of your only son?" Rupert asked.

"Matters that do not concern you," Hunter answered.

"Indeed? There are no matters concerning my father
that do not concern me." He was Lord Reginald's only son and therefore his only legitimate heir. He would allow Hunter no more undeserved favors.
"
What brings you here, Hunter? Need to prey upon a dying man for further favors? Has he not given you enough? Must you bleed him to death?"

"Cease, Rupert," Lord Reginald interrupted. He coughed, then caught his breath again.
"
/ summoned Hunter here
.
"

Rupert turned a stunned gaze to his father. "You called on him? Whatever for. Father?" Fear knotted Rupert's stomach. Though Rupert had often wondered about his father's generosity toward Hunter, he had never accepted his father could be that bastard's sire. Surely there was another explanation.

"Are you my father?"

The question he overheard Hunter asking when he entered the bedchamber came ringing back to mind. A question to which Hunter would never find answer for Rupert would never allow his father to utter such frightful words.

Rage boiled inside of him.

Without warning Rupert punched Hunter in the face. Hunter staggered back
,
blood running from the corner of his mouth. He lunged at Rupert, hitting him in the stomach and stealing his breath away.

"Cease!" Lord Reginald's cry rose above the ruckus Rupert and Hunter were making. "Cease, you fools!"
L
ord Reginald began coughing in earnest, unable to stop and catch his breath.

Rupert and Hunter halted. Rupert shoved Hunter out of the way and rushed to his father's side. Hunter walked to the foot of the bed.

Lord Reginald's cough worsened, lifting his feeble body off the pillows. Blood spilled from his mouth to stain crimson his chest and the coverlet.

"Call the physician," Rupert cried, and for the first time in his life Hunter obeyed him.

The physician arrived moments later, and Rupert moved to the side to give the man room. His father's cough thankfully ceased after the physician administered to him. Then, a moment later, the physician lifted.

"How does he fare?" Rupert asked.

"Your father is dead."

Rupert staggered back. He understood his father had been the force behind him, and though he expected him to die soon, he was shocked at the sorrow and the fear clogging his throat.

He turned a shaken body to where Hunter stood and the man's pale countenance gave Rupert some measure of satisfaction, for Rupert believed in the depths of his heart that Hunter mourned not Lord Reginald's death but the secret that died with him.

"Now you shall never know," Rupert whispered. There was justice in the world after all.

Without a word Hunter stalked out of the bedchamber.

HUNTER stomped inside the guest chamber, slamming the door with such a fury Isabel jumped to her feet. She followed him with her gaze as he marched to the table and filled a goblet with wine, gulping down the liquid without taking a breath or probably even tasting it.

Isabel exchanged weary glances with Maude. Had Rupert confronted Hunter, somehow letting their secret out? The mere thought of having to explain herself to Hunter made her queasy.

Searching for the right words to strike up a conversation, Isabel ambled toward him. She touched his shoulders. "What is the matter, Hunter?"

He spun around, as if just noticing her in the room. His face lost some of the frustration and anger. He threaded his fingers through his dark locks, a gesture she hadn't seen in him before. "Lord Reginald has died."