Denise Lynn Read online

A loud crack of wood caught his attention. Jared watched the charred dragon prow fall to the beach. As he stared at the dancing flames he couldn't help but wonder if his mother had had a hand in having him sent here. As outrageous as that thought was, he wouldn't put it past her.

  Brigit of Warehaven wanted her son married. More than once she'd made her feelings plain that she thought him foolish for not going after Lea. His father agreed.

  Of course he'd never shown his parents the missive he'd received and still carried. He wouldn't see them hurt in such a manner. There was no need for them to know Lea couldn't bring herself to wed the son of a bastard.

  Her excuse had never made any sense to him, appearing out of nowhere as it had. As far as he was concerned, that's all her

  reasoning was—just an excuse not to wed, not to leave her father's keep.

  Had she known what her words would do? Jared was certain she had specifically chosen that excuse knowing full well how the words would sting. She had obviously wanted to ensure he would stay away.

  And it had worked—until now.

  He glanced towards Rolfe, not really seeing the man clearly through the smoke from the fire and the memories. 'Matilda sent us here to protect Montreau.'

  'Keep telling yourself that, Jared, and maybe you'll believe it some day.'

  Rolfe headed over to join the others. His parting laugh didn't surprise Jared. They'd been together too long for that to happen. The man always spoke his mind regardless of the topic.

  One thing was certain, he couldn't sit around wondering what to do—that path was lined only with more questions. He was used to action and decision. This uncertainty was making him widess and disgusted with himself.

  Jared walked along the beach, weaving past smaller groups of men gathered around the fire.

  The men's conversations were muted, but he caught snippets of talk about Cassandra and the fire from one group. Another discussed Villaire's departure with great approval.

  But hearing Lea's name mentioned by a third group slowed his steps.

  'He'd be better for Lady Lea than Villaire.'

  Who would be better for her?

  'At least she 'd have someone to finally share her bed.'

  It wasn't just the suggestive comment that made Jared's chest dghten—it was the ribald laughter that followed.

  One of the men spotted him nearby and elbowed the man from Montreau who'd spoken. The group quickly dispersed—too quickly.

  Had they been talking about him? Did they think he would be better for Lea? Had they come to the conclusion that he and Lea were more than acquaintances? Had someone witnessed their trysts?

  Apparently someone had.

  What had he done? His thirst for revenge, combined with his lust, had put Lea in a precarious position. If the guards, who generally paid attention to very litde, were aware of their attraction or their trysts, it was safe to assume the entire keep knew.

  Through no fault of her own. Lea would look like a harlot in their eyes. She'd be the object of rumours and innuendo.

  And what if she had become pregnant?

  Jared resisted the urge to groan. The blame for this rested on his shoulders and it was his responsibility to see it made right.

  After what had happened before, he'd long ago decided to wed without concern for feelings. Did Lea not meet that requirement?

  While it was true that passion and desire were feelings, they weren't of any worth in a marriage.

  But their shared passion for each other could be seen as a benefit. If nothing else, it gave them something in common.

  Besides, wouldn't demanding a marriage be the perfect revenge?

  Jared looked up towards the top of the hill. Why hadn't he thought of this before? It was perfect.

  Flawless in design. On the morrow he would inform her of his decision. He broke into a smile, imagining her shock and outrage.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lea rolled over and groaned against the churning of her stomach. She closed her eyes, unable to ignore the truth any longer.

  Her wish had been granted.

  To her surprise, her heart raced—but not with fear or dread. The simple act of admitting the truth made her suddenly happy— overjoyed to know that soon she would hold a child—her child— in her arms.

  There was no longer the need to worry about what if she was carrying Jared's child. Instead, excitement replaced that worry. Now she could focus her concerns on all of the changes that would take place. Changes not just to her body—although she hoped this sickness would soon go away—but changes to her life, her responsibilities and her future.

  The door to her chamber opened and Lea sat up, only to slap a hand over her mouth as another wave of sickness washed over her.

  'Lady Lea?' Agatha shuffled to her side, a worried frown creasing her brow. 'Are you unwell?'

  Lea shook her head and instantly regretted the too-fast movement. She swallowed hard in an attempt to hold the nausea at bay, then she said, 'No. Actually everything is wonderful.'

  'Wonderful?' Agatha's eyebrows rose in apparent disbelief. 'You look as though you are sick to your stomach and you claim you are wonderful?' She touched Lea's cheeks. 'You don't appear to have a—'

  The older woman abruptly stopped mid-sentence. Her hand hung in the air as her mouth dropped open. Finally, she exclaimed, 'You are carrying a child.'

  Since no question had been asked, Lea rose and went to stand before the window. The cool pre-dawn breeze helped soothe the churning of her stomach.

  She took a deep breath and frowned at the stench of burning wood. Something was on fire.

  Leaning into the window embrasure, she could see nothing aflame.

  She spun around, asking, 'Agatha, where is the fire?'

  'On the beach. Are you carrying a child?'

  Lea ignored the question to ask one of her own. 'What is on fire at the beach?'

  'Lord Jared's ship. Is the babe his?'

  Lea wanted to scream. Instead she gritted her teeth a moment, then ordered, 'Tell me what's happening.'

  Agatha shot her a look reserved for mothers dealing with a recalcitrant child. When Lea only returned the look, the older woman relented. 'From what I've been told, a pirate set one of Lord Jared's longships on fire. The men were ordered to the beach to help.'

  'The men? Which men?'

  'His own and yours.'

  Certain her ears played a trick on her, Lea asked again, 'Which men?'

  Agatha frowned. 'Are you sure you are feeling well?'

  'Agatha!'

  'The men from Warehaven and Montreau.'

  Without asking her, or even telling her, Jared had ordered her men into a dangerous situation?

  How dare he!

  'My lady?'

  Lea held up a hand, wordlessly asking Agatha for silence. She needed to think. But first she needed to convince the rage burning in her chest to abate.

  She was well aware he'd been ordered to Montreau to protect the keep and her. She was also aware that he'd easily assumed control because she'd done little to stop him.

  Even so, these were her men. They owed their allegiance to Montreau and she was the embodiment of Montreau. She didn't blame the men—they would have naturally assumed she'd handed power over to Jared and would have obeyed his commands without a second thought.

  No. She placed the blame solely on Jared's shoulders and her own weak will.

  The urge to dress, march to the beach and confront him was strong. One thing gave her pause—

  the child she carried was his.

  If, in her rage and anger, she did anything—or mistakenly said anything—to let him even so much as wonder if she carried a child, he would immediately take control of her life, too.

  She'd not wed him. Lea didn't care what anyone thought or would say when the truth became apparent. She would not wed Jared of Warehaven.

  There would always be rumours, no one could stop that. But there was something she could do to keep most of the talk at b
ay.

  She could stick to her original plan, deceitful as it might be, and claim the child was Charles's.

  Her head throbbed. The thought of doing something so low was vile even in her mind. But her options were limited. She knew without a single doubt that Jared would eventually guess the truth regardless of her lies.

  Once he did, he would try to force a marriage between them. Lea sat back down on the bed, fearful her shaking limbs would refuse to keep her upright.

  She couldn't marry him. She wouldn't marry him. But Lea knew he would wear her will down.

  She feared it wouldn't take much on his part.

  Far from simple-minded, Jared would quickly realise that anger would fail him. That's when he would become dangerous. She knew exacdy what tactic he'd employ.

  Worse—she knew she'd be unable to resist his wiles for long. Then she'd be lost. She would be chained in a loveless marriage. Wed to a warrior who would always put battle and killing above her and their child. Married to a man who would jeopardise the hard-won neutrality of Montreau.

  Now that her fears had a firm grip on her heart and mind, Lea couldn't stop the swiftly forming images from appearing.

  Visions of Montreau's men dead or dying on a bloody field of batde made her tremble.

  More horrific than seeing the gruesome deaths of men she'd known all of her life was the mental sight of her own son perishing in the same manner.

  Lea gasped. She would not permit that to happen. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did.

  Agatha placed a hand on her shoulder. Lea jumped at the unexpected contact.

  'What is wrong, Lea? It is obvious something has terrified you.'

  In a shaking whisper, Lea replied, 'We must leave here. Now.'

  Agatha sat on the bed next to her. 'Leave Montreau?'

  'Yes.' Lea nearly lunged to her feet. 'Yes. Now. We have to leave.'

  'But where will we go? Why must we leave?'

  Nearly frantic, Lea asked, 'Is Jared on the beach?'

  Agatha rose. Wringing her hands, she answered, 'Yes. As far as I know he is. Why? Should I send for him?'

  'No!' Lea shouted, then forced her racing heart to calm. 'No, Agatha, he is the last person I wish to see.'

  She opened the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled out a couple of travelling sacks. Pausing, she then reached back in the chest and pulled out the writs from Stephen and Matilda.

  Where would she go?

  Lea frowned. Yes, Montreau was neutral, but she didn't trust the king or the empress.

  If she went running to Stephen, he might see that as a show of weakness and grant Villaire his petition for guardianship. That cur would have her wed to Blackstone before the sun set that very day.

  If she went to the empress, Lea knew exactly what would happen. Matilda cared for Jared—she would grant him permission to wed Montreau's heiress without a second thought.

  So, where would she go? Who was strong enough to hold both Stephen and Matilda at bay?

  Whom did she know well enough that they would give her some time to determine her next move?

  Relief flooded her. 'Agatha, we are going to King David.'

  The older woman stuffed some clothing into one of the sacks and asked, 'Why?'

  Agatha was steadfastiy loyal. There was no reason to lie to her. Lea admitted, 'Because I carry Jared's child.'

  Agatha sighed. 'There is no need to run. He would gladly wed you if he knew.'

  'That is exacdy what I don't want.'

  A look of shock widened Agatha's eyes. 'Why ever not?'

  'I'll not hand control of Montreau over to a warrior. And I will never have a warrior as my child's father.'

  'Forgive me for saying so, but you might have thought about that before you took him to your bed.'

  Lea snatched the sack from Agatha's hands and gave her the empty one. 'Gather what you need and enough food to last us a day or so. I want to be away from here before Jared and the men return.'

  Agatha tossed the sack on the bed, protesting, 'Lady Lea, you can't do this.'

  She could do anything she wanted to do. 'If you wish not to accompany me, so be it. But I am going.'

  'Don't you want this child?'

  Not want the child? From where had that idea come? Of course she wanted the child. Confused, she asked, 'Why would you even think I didn't?'

  'I thought that since it was Lord Jared's you wouldn't—'

  'My God,' Lea cut her off. 'That only makes me want the babe even more.'

  Agatha plopped down atop the chest. 'More?' She shook her head. 'Why would you want the babe more when you don't want the man who fathered him?'

  Lea understood Agatha's confusion. Especially since she was just as confused herself. Why did conceiving Jared's child make her feel so satisfied and happy and terrified all at the same time?

  And why did the idea of running away from him suddenly seem so wrong?

  She tried to explain. 'It's not so much that I don't want him.' She'd wanted him for years. 'It's more that I can't accept or live with his way of life.'

  'He's a man, Empress Matilda's man. How can you expect him to be other than he is?'

  'I can't. I don't. That's why I'm leaving. Eventually he'll come to realise that I'm right—a marriage between us would be wrong—and he'll go back to Warehaven.'

  'And if he doesn't?'

  'Hopefully, he will. But if not, perhaps I'll be able to work something out while we're at King David's.'

  Agatha looked at her as if she'd just declared dogs could fly. The older woman once again shook her head, but said nothing. Instead, she rose, retrieved the sack and asked, 'Are we travelling alone?'

  'Heavens, no. I'll get a few of our men to travel with us. Meet me at the stables as quickly as you can. And say nothing to anyone.'

  After Agatha left the chamber, Lea donned a warm woollen gown. The sturdiness of the gown would be well suited for travelling.

  She slid the writs from Stephen and Matilda into her sack. Hopefully they wouldn't be needed for anything, but one never knew what might, or might not, happen at King David's court. If she needed to be able to prove Montreau's neutrality, she wanted the documents at hand.

  Hopefully David wouldn't turn her away. She knew she was taking a risk by fleeing to his court.

  After all, he was loosely related to Jared and might take it upon himself to force her into a marriage she wasn't at all certain she wanted.

  But King David and her father had always been on the best of terms with each other. On her father's death, David had told her to come to him if ever she had need of anything. She'd not taken advantage of that offer undl now.

  Lea crept down the stairs as quietly as possible, praying she'd not awaken anyone who might sdll be sleeping in the Great Hall. She was surprised to find the hall empty. Had Jared ordered every man to attend him on the beach?

  She left the keep, pulling her cloak tighter around her in the cool pre-dawn air. With any luck the sun would shine today. Rain would make the trip miserable.

  Lea found three of her men in the stables. From the smell of smoke clinging to their clothing she knew they'd been on the beach.

  They'd probably had little sleep this night, but that couldn't be helped. She couldn't afford to miss this opportunity, with Jared away from the keep, to leave. There was no telling if she'd get another chance.

  'Simon, saddle five of the horses and make ready to leave.'

  'My lady?'

  She quickly made up a lie. 'King David has need of me and I wish to be on the road before the sun rises.'

  'Should I summon Lord Jared?'

  Why was that always the first question her people asked? 'No. His responsibility is to Montreau.

  He can't be in two places at once.'

  Thankfully, Simon and the other two men made haste to do her bidding without any further questions.

  Even though the men worked quickly, it seemed to her as if it took for ever. She kept peering out into the bailey,
expecting Jared and the others to return at any moment.

  If he caught her now, she'd be unable to explain why she was leaving when it was still dark. He wouldn't be as accepting of her lie as the men had been. And thinking she lied would only arouse his suspicions.

  Agatha arrived at the stable at just about the same dme that the men finished saddling the horses.

  Thankfully, they were mounted and out of Montreau's gates before anyone else returned to the keep. To her relief, the gate guards were men from Montreau and didn't stop them to ask any questions once they saw she was in the riding party.

  Lea glanced over her shoulder at the keep. She'd rarely been away from Montreau in the last few years. A part of her felt as giddy as a child setting out on a long-overdue journey.

  But another part of her suffered the pangs of guilt for what she was doing, not just to Jared, but to her people.

  Some time soon she would be lying to all of them. When she returned, she would have no choice but to declare the child she carried was Charles's.

  She turned to face forwards. Staring out over the horse's head, Lea shivered as she silendy prayed for forgiveness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jared tossed the now-damp drying cloth over the bench in his chamber. He'd wanted a bath to wash the stench of the smoke from him, but there hadn't been enough hot water and he avoided cold baths as often as he could. A quick wash would have to do.

  The ship had taken a lifetime to burn into embers. Each passing hour had felt like years. Like the rest of the men, exhaustion had set in long before the last crack of burning wood. They'd made their way back to the keep by the light of the dawning sun.

  Now, before he took a couple of hours of sleep, he wanted to talk to Lea. She would argue with him, Vehemently. Marriage to the son of a bastard was something she couldn't bring herself to do before, and he doubted if she'd changed her mind about that. But wedding him had to be a better option for her than being seen as a whore in her own keep.

  So, going into this discussion tired, and on edge, would be his wisest choice. He'd be less likely to take her logic, or complaints, into consideration and more likely to end up ordering her to wed him. If ordering her didn't work, there were other, more enjoyable ways to make her see reason.