Denise Lynn Read online

  Yes, she'd be angry. She'd get over it. And, yes, the beginning of their marriage would be tempestuous, but that would most certainly stave off boredom.

  Empress Matilda might rage at him for his high-handedness, but he was willing to wager this had been part of her plan all along. So, in the end, she'd be smugly happy, claiming to all how successful she'd been at seeing her nephew wed.

  Jared finished dressing and ran a comb through his wet hair, intentionally ignoring the slight tremor of his hand. The coming argument didn't bother him in the least. Lea's anger was nothing compared to his own.

  What if this was a mistake? What if some day, tomorrow or even a few months, or years, from now, he met someone better suited to be his wife?

  No. He shook the idea from his mind. It was nothing more than a passing thought meant to make him stop long enough to think twice about his coming action.

  He'd always trusted his gut reaction before; now was not the time to change tactics. Forcing Lea's hand was the right thing to do.

  He didn't want an emotional attachment and he'd not have to worry about that with Lea. He did want someone well accustomed to running a keep. Lea certainly wouldn't need any training to do that task.

  He wanted a wife who didn't shy away from passion. Lea was far from being a fearful woman in the bedchamber. In fact, she was undoubtedly as lustful as he. He doubted if there would be any complaints from either of them on that score.

  So, why did he stand here staring at the door?

  Jared sneered at a nearly unheard whisper warning him that wedding Lea might prove more than he expected. He jerked open the door of his chamber and covered the slight distance to Lea's door in a matter of a few steps.

  When no one answered his knock, he opened her door. 'Lea?'

  Jared shut the door behind him. There was no need to let the entire keep hear their conversadon.

  He pushed aside the curtains surrounding her bed and frowned. Where was she?

  A quick check of the empty alcove deepened his frown. She hadn't been in the bailey or the Great Hall when he'd returned to the keep. Nor had she passed by his chamber while he'd washed and dressed—he'd been listening for her and wouldn't have missed hearing her.

  So, where was she hiding?

  Jared stormed from the chamber and down to the hall. He asked one of Montreau's guards,

  'Where is your lady?'

  'I don't know, my lord. Was she not in her bedchamber?'

  He didn't like the man's disrespectful tone. It was proof the rumours had already started—yet another reason to see this marriage through quickly. 'No. Find her.'

  When the guard left to do as ordered, Jared checked the kitchens. Not only did Lea seem to be missing, so was her maid Agatha.

  Something was wrong.

  She wasn't missing because of Villaire or Blackstone. Neither of them possessed enough courage to return to Montreau. He'd made it perfecdy clear to both of them that they would forfeit their lives if they returned. They were devious and greedy, not widess.

  'My lord, is something amiss?' Rolfe asked as he approached.

  'Yes, Lady Lea and her maid are missing. Check the bailey while I finish looking inside.'

  Unable to locate her, Jared's patience wore thin. Where had she gone? Why had she left? His curiosity had already changed to concern, but now it was simmering into frustration. What game did she seek to play?

  Rolfe returned sooner than expected. Breathless, he explained, 'She, her maid and three of her men left before we returned from the beach.'

  'Left? Did she say where she was going, or why?'

  His man shook his head. 'No. The guards at the gate said she and her party left without any word.'

  Frustration blazed into anger. Jared cursed as he headed back up the stairs. Determined to find some clue as to her whereabouts, he slammed into Lea's chamber.

  On his heels, Rolfe asked, 'What are we looking to find?'

  'Anything,' Jared nearly growled in response, then swiped his arm across a narrow side table, sending the contents flying in all directions. Jewellery, a polished mirror and wide-toothed comb, small vials of exotic perfume, a tray of candle stubs and an oil lamp all hit the floor. Ajar of dried herbs shattered, leaving the scent of lavender in its wake.

  Normally, the aroma would soothe him. Now, as he crushed it under his booted feet, it only served to anger him further.

  What had she been running away from this time?

  Him? Again?

  Since this time her father wasn't around to deliver whatever excuse she had to offer, it only made sense that she'd taken flight.

  The question was why.

  No. He didn't care why. The question was where had she gone?

  Her timing was far too perfect for this journey to have been planned.

  Most of her clothing still hung on pegs, making it seem as if she'd packed in haste. Her personal items, the mirror, comb and perfume, remained behind.

  It was doubtful if she'd gone far.

  Rolfe checked the alcove, looked under the bed and in corners for anything that appeared out of place. Finding nothing, he pointed toward the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. 'What about in there?'

  Jared picked up the chest and upended it, dumping the contents on the bed. A leather tube, designed to hold documents, was empty. He shook the clothing, stockings, a thin chemise and a torn gown. Nothing fell out from the fabric.

  Pushing aside childhood mementos, he found two crumpled missives. He tossed the one from his aunt back on the bed; there was no need to read that one again, it would tell him nothing.

  The one with King Stephen's seal surprised him. Lea hadn't mentioned receiving a message from the king. Jared took the crumpled parchment closer to the window, stepping into the light to better see what it contained.

  At first the words made little sense until he realised it'd been sent after her husband had drowned.

  He blinked, unable to believe Stephen's brazenness. Lea was to either produce an heir for Montreau within a few months, or wed one of the king's supporters.

  That would put all of Montreau's property and wealth right into the king's coffers. He would bleed it dry, just as he had the rest of his supporters.

  Matilda would have sent the majority of her army north in response, rendering the land useless—

  devastated.

  Why hadn't Lea told him? How did she think to avoid this from happening? It would take something grander than a miracle for her to be carrying Charles Villaire's child. The man was dead.

  But he'd died only a few weeks ago.

  So, it could be possible that she'd become pregnant before his death.

  Snatches of overheard conversations raced through his mind. Charles Villaire hadn't shared a chamber with his wife. From what he'd overheard, Jared had been led to believe that Lea and Charles rarely—if ever—shared a bed, let alone a chamber. If that were true, how could she be carrying his child?

  It wasn't as if she could lie to the king for ever. Eventually he would discover she wouldn't be producing an heir. Stephen would be certain to send spies to check on her. What would she do when her body visibly proclaimed her lie? How would she fake a pregnancy?

  The words of the missive blurred.

  No.

  She wouldn't be so deceitful.

  He reached out, feeling for the bench he'd seen earlier. His foot hit the piece of furniture before his hand did and he lowered himself to the seat.

  'My lord?'

  Jared waved his man away, needing a few moments to digest what his heart fought to deny. Not even Lea could be that cold and calculating.

  Could she?

  It had been seven years since he'd last seen her. She'd been a young inexperienced woman then.

  Her sad attempts at subterfuge had been almost comical to watch.

  But things changed. All things changed with time. Perhaps she had, too.

  His stomach knotted.

  He couldn't deny the fact that she'd not
fought his advances. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the very night he'd arrived, she had boldly offered herself to him.

  Like a fool he'd been unable to fight the desire she'd seen that night and had succumbed to the offer.

  Even had she not been pregnant when her husband drowned, she could very well be carrying a child now.

  But not Villaire's.

  His hands trembled with rage. Jared crushed the missive in his fist.

  The woman who couldn't bring herself to marry him because he was the son of a bastard, was now carrying his bastard child?

  And she'd conceived the babe intentionally?

  Was there no limit to the depths she would stoop?

  Did she hate him, despise him so vehemently that she would use him in such a manner?

  His head pounded with a rush of emotions. Pain threatened to burst behind his eyes.

  Jared rose. He fought to ignore the churning of his gut, ordering Rolfe, 'Have my horse saddled and two guards—my guards—readied to ride.'

  'I can be ready to ride immediately.'

  'No. I need you to stay here with the men in case anything should happen.'

  Rolfe's expression darkened at being denied the opportunity to join him, but he only asked,

  'Where do you go?'

  Where was he going? Where would that—he couldn't even put a name to what he thought of Lea at this moment—where would she have gone?

  Surely not to Stephen. She wouldn't risk giving the king even an inkling of an idea that Montreau required a guardian. Especially not when she knew full well that guardian would be Markam Villaire. And she wouldn't risk being forced to wed Blackstone.

  Nor would she run to Madlda. If she was indeed carrying his child, going to his aunt would be the last place she'd run.

  She had no family. So who did that leave?

  Unable to think clearly with the incessant drumming against his temples, Jared brushed by his man on the way to his own chamber.

  He pulled a leather tube holding his maps from a saddlebag and shoved the wadded missive in its place.

  Unrolling the map on the bed, he stared unseeing at it. Finally, he whispered a harsh curse at himself, 'Damn you, concentrate.' Then he pinpointed Montreau on the map.

  'Robert is too far away to be of any help.' The Earl of Gloucester, another one of his grandfather's bastards, was loyal

  to Matilda and would uphold Montreau's neutrality given Lea's previous betrothal.

  'If she's only travelling with three guards, she'd never make it through York to get to Lincoln.'

  The Earl of York controlled his property with an iron fist. He was king of his land and Lea would never pass through the territory without his knowledge. Lea of Montreau would be too choice a prize to leave be.

  However, the distance to King David was a journey she could manage with so small a force. Plus, heading north was a safer bet for Lea.

  'Where is David?'

  'Last I heard he was sdll in Bamburgh with his son.'

  He was supposed to be heading to New Casde and Roxburgh before returning to Carlisle. 'How long ago was that?'

  Rolfe shrugged. 'Before we left court.'

  That had been over a month ago. While David would have left Bamburgh by now, Jared didn't think the king would have returned to Carlisle yet, so that left New Casde or Roxburgh.

  'I'll head for New Castle first, since it's closer. If Lea's not there, I'll cross the border and check at Roxburgh.'

  'When do you leave?'

  'Now. Get me two of our best men, tell them we'll sleep on the road. Find another to carry a message to my aunt.'

  'The message?'

  He'd had a moment of uncertainty before coming to find Lea. Now, even that slight uncertainty was gone.

  'Tell her I'm marrying Lea of Montreau.'

  Rolfe's mouth fell open. Quickly regaining his composure, he asked, 'Are you sure about this?'

  'Yes.' He was sure of one thing—Lea was going pay for this treachery and forcing her hand in marriage would ensure she paid for a long, long time.

  And if his aunt disliked this twist, by the time she received the message it would be too late to do anything about it.

  Rolfe left the chamber to see to the horses and men. Jared shoved some clothing into his saddlebag. After spending all night on the beach watching his ship burn, he wanted nothing more than to fall into bed.

  Even though this journey could wait until tomorrow, he didn't like the idea of Lea travelling without stronger protection.

  With the ongoing war, many of the men were with either Stephen or Madlda, leaving all manner of thieves and murderers to populate the roads. She might be carrying his child. He wasn't about to let anyone cause harm to the babe.

  The last time she'd put an end to their reladonship, he'd let her go. Unwilling to hear the words from her lips, he'd accepted her father's explanation and gone into battle, permitting the hurt and anger to rule him undl others paid for his mistake with their lives.

  Not this dme.

  It was possible that Lea had changed, and so had he. This dme she wouldn't escape as easily. He would rule the hurt and anger, using it to make her pay.

  Over his dead body would she carry and birth his chdd, claiming it belonged to another.

  His parents had often claimed that true love was what kept their marriage strong during the hard dmes. Jared knew nothing about love, nor did he wish to learn.

  After Lea's previous dismissal, he'd decided he wanted no part of love. She'd proven how wise his decision had been.

  Now the two of them would discover how strong a marriage based on lust and hate would prove.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drenched from the rain and shivering from the accompanying wind, Lea hung her head. 'I am sorry.'

  Just as she knew they would, the guards ignored her apology. They'd not complained about the miserable conditions this last day on the road. But she was sorry to have put them in this position.

  Had she been capable of travelling first thing in the morning they would have arrived at King David's court the first day, or around noon the next.

  Her illness upon awakening hadn't subsided. It was a few hours before she could sit a horse without being sick. And then, just about the time they were making progress, she'd been ready to stop and eat.

  After three days on the road, Lea was certain the men and Agatha had had their fill of this journey—and her.

  She glanced over at the older woman. Unused to riding a horse for such an extended period of dme, Agatha looked tired and more than miserable.

  Lea tried to reassure her. 'We'll be at New Caste today. I promise.'

  When Agatha only nodded in reply, Lea sighed. This had been a mistake. She shouldn't have run like such a coward— even though that's exactly what she was.

  A coward. Plain and simple.

  She should have swallowed her fears and concerns and gone to Jared.

  But he would have insisted on marriage. And it was doubtful that she'd have been able to convince him of how unsuited they were for each other.

  Of all people, she couldn't marry him.

  A warrior—a knight in service to his liege lord—would not suit her, or Montreau. She'd not see her people dragged into this war.

  Lea looked at the guards riding before her. Two of the three were young—barely old enough to have noticeable facial hair.

  How would she explain their deaths to their mothers should anything happen?

  The third had two young sons and a pregnant wife. What would happen to his family should they lose him? How would they feed themselves? Who would protect them? How would they bear the loss?

  The pain of losing her brother, Phillip, still cut her deeply. She doubted if that pain would ever subside.

  No, she'd never wed a warrior.

  But what did that leave? Men of Villaire's ilk? Greedy, bullying cowards who thought of nothing except themselves?

  Or a pious holy man who would think only of his prayers
?

  Would she rather marry a weak, fearful man who hid inside the keep waiting for the worst to happen?

  Lea clenched the reins between her fingers. It was little wonder parents and liege lords arranged a young girl's betrothal.

  If she, a woman grown, couldn't even decide what type of man would make a good husband and lord for Montreau, how could a starry-eyed child be expected to do so?

  'What concerns you so?'

  Startled by Agatha's question, Lea answered without thinking, 'I need a husband. But I don't know what kind of man would suit.'

  'You might have thought of that before.'

  Lea slowed her horse, putting some distance between her and the guards. She'd soon be the topic of enough gossip at Montreau; there was no need to speed it along.

  Once assured the distance was safe, she admitted, 'I thought I could do this alone.'

  Agatha jerked back in apparent shock. 'Do what alone? Raise a child? Or live your life alone?

  Had you truly believed that you would never have to remarry?'

  'Both, I suppose.'

  'Lady Lea... 'Agatha heaved a long sigh before continuing, 'Child, sometimes I think you have had your own way far too long.'

  'My own way?' Lea sought a valid argument, hoping to hold off the lecture she knew was coming. 'It isn't as if I've ever been permitted to do my own choosing. If I didn't answer to my father, I answered to my husband.'

  'If you remember correctly, you will admit that you chose that husband just as surely as you decided what's happening now.'

  'My father chose Charles, not I.'

  'Only because you had called off your marriage to Warehaven.'

  Lea had no desire to argue that point. 'I can't change the past. My concern is for tomorrow.'

  'I thought this is what you wanted? Now that you can fulfd King Stephen's requirement to retain control of Montreau, what concerns you?'

  Lea cringed. How had she ever believed she could be that cold and calculating? Why hadn't she realised as soon as she actually conceived a child that her feelings would far outweigh her ill-contrived plans?

  'Perhaps I didn't think this through enough.'

  'When have you ever thought anything through?'

  Sometimes her former nursemaid's bluntness stung. She was no longer a child needing firm-handed guidance.