Denise Lynn Read online

  'Lady Lea, I apologise for overstepping boundaries, but there are dmes your impulsiveness gets you in trouble.'

  'I am not impulsive.'

  'Oh?' Agatha stared at her with raised eyebrows. 'And when did you cease being so? Was it when Phillip died and your first thought was to call off your betrothal to Warehaven? Perhaps it was when you thought Villaire would be easy to control and nearly demanded a quick marriage.' The older woman frowned as if thinking, then added brightly, 'Or maybe it was when you thought having a baby you could pass off as Villaire's child would solve everything.'

  Angry that Agatha would so forcefully remind her of all the things she was currently trying to forget, Lea warned, 'You go too far.'

  'Do I?' Waving a hand toward the road ahead, Agatha asked, 'And this, what is this if not an impulse given little more than a few moments of consideration?'

  'Instead of berating me for things I cannot change, tell me what I can do now.'

  'That's not my place. Besides, you wouldn't like my answer.'

  Lea fumed. 'It's not as if you can anger me further.'

  'All right.' Agatha stiffened her spine and stared over her horse's head. 'Turn around and tell Warehaven what you had planned. He will set things to right.' She turned to look at Lea. 'He won't be happy. But he will do the right thing by you.'

  'Force him into marrying me is your answer? How does that solve anything?'

  'How are you going to raise a child alone, retain control of Montreau and keep an eye on the ever-changing political affairs that might threaten your neutrality?'

  'I don't know. But with your help—'

  Agatha's bark of laughter cut her off. 'My help? Since I can't keep an eye on political affairs, or control Montreau, that leaves me in charge of the baby. You don't think I'm a litde old for that any more?'

  'Old? No. Short of temper, perhaps, but not old.'

  'Lady Lea, I have passed my fifty-fifth year. I happen to like sleeping through the night. If you think I am short of temper now, wait until the first time I have to walk the floors all night with a wailing babe.'

  Surprised, Lea said, 'But I thought you liked children.'

  'Yes. I do. When they belong to someone else.' Agatha glanced sideways at her. 'Did you think conceiving a child was the end of your responsibility?'

  'No.' In truth she hadn't thought much past that part.

  'Had you planned on giving birth and handing the babe over to another?'

  Lea's stomach knotted, but not from her usual morning sickness. The idea of giving away the life she carried inside her made her ill. This was Aerbaby. She wasn't about to give it to someone else.

  Like any other woman her age she'd dreamed of having a baby. Holding her own child. Loving and caring for the small innocent life she'd been given. At times, she'd even contemplated doing things differently than her parents had.

  Instead of letting a nursemaid raise the child, Lea thought it would be heaven to be the one who saw those first stumbling steps, or heard the first words spoken from such sweet lips. She wanted to be the one who bundled the baby into bed at night, with a soft kiss to their forehead and a whispered promise of undying love.

  Her chest tightened with grief for what she'd never have. Without a husband at her side, Montreau would always be her first responsibility. It was their safety, their shelter. Without it, they would all be living in the woods like wild animals.

  And while she saw to the running and safety of Montreau, someone else would raise her child.

  Someone else would hold the babe, offering comfort. Another's hands would tuck them into bed.

  Another's eyes would see the first steps and other ears would hear the first words.

  As much as those thoughts hurt, what else could she do? There were no other opdons.

  'No, I hadn't planned on doing that. But we have to be safe and that means seeing to Montreau.'

  'A husband could help with that, Lea. You will never have the freedom to come and go as you wish. You are Montreau's lady and will always have that responsibility. But you need not do it all. Would it not be enough for you to see to the day-to-day running of the keep while another concerns himself with the safety, security and continued welfare of Montreau and the demesne lands?'

  'Just like my parents did?' Even with the two of them seeing to Montreau they had had precious litde time for their children.

  'Bah.' Agatha made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. 'Your parents hated each other.

  They each did whatever they could to make more work for the other. It doesn't have to be that way. There are men out there who would be honoured to be your partner in this, Lea.'

  'My partner? They'd be honoured to gain possession of what I have.'

  'When did you become so untrusting of others?'

  'The day my brother was murdered.'

  'That was years ago. Phillip was in the wrong place unknowingly. You can't hold everyone who carries a sword responsible for his death.'

  'Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean I need to let a sword- wielding warrior sacrifice Montreau's men.'

  The slump of Agatha's shoulders spoke of her weariness. Instead of calling an end to this discussion as Lea thought she would, the older woman asked, 'If you will not have a sword-wielding warrior, then what type of man would you have?'

  'I'm not certain.' She'd just wondered that herself and still had no answer. 'No one like Charles.'

  'Praise the Lord for that. You don't wish for a husband concerned with only wealth. Or one driven by only power. What are you looking for, Lea? Someone who will worship at your feet? Obey your every command, jump to your every desire?'

  'Isn't there something in between all of those choices?'

  'No. Even if there was, you would soon grow bored of such perfection.'

  'Since it's becoming obvious I will have to remarry, I would be happy with a man who desired me first, above all else. One who could see to Montreau's safety and future. Someone not afraid to face down Stephen or Matilda if need be.'

  Realising that Agatha stared at her, Lea stopped. 'What?'

  The older woman shook her head. 'This pregnancy has made you daft.'

  Confused, Lea asked, 'Is it so wrong to wish for those things?'

  'I didn't say that. I said you were daft.'

  'Why?'

  Once again Agatha's grey braids swung as she shook her head. 'Child, you need to work this one out for yourself. I only hope it doesn't take you overlong.'

  Only Lea could turn a one-day jaunt into a three-day journey.

  Had the guard scouting ahead of him not been paying close attention, they would have run over Lea's party within hours of leaving Montreau. The act of staying far enough behind them, so as not to be seen, had become tedious. He could have walked to New Castle quicker than this, although her slow pace did make it convenient for him to spy on her. It was an easy task to leave his

  horse with his men, sneak up close to Lea's group to see what they were doing, then return to his own party without detection. If only spying during battle could be so simple.

  At first he'd thought perhaps she was debating the wisdom of her actions and might turn around to return to the keep. But, no. He'd realised the next morning that she was ill.

  About the time he'd been ready to make his presence known and order her back to Montreau, she'd started her group moving. Not for long, though. A few hours later she'd stopped to eat.

  That surprised him, considering how ill she'd appeared on rising. Her seemingly sudden recovery increased his suspicions that she did indeed carry a child.

  He'd been old enough to remember when his mother carried her last child. It was the same—she too would rise from bed ill, but by late morning she'd be fine. Only when his father remembered to bring her a light repast in bed did she seem able to go about her duties earlier in the day.

  They used to jest about it. His mother claimed she would be willing to conceive every year if it would gain her personal service in bed eve
ry morning. His father would then feign horror at the suggestion he become her handmaiden.

  Was this something Lea and Agatha didn't know? Or was it something that didn't work for every woman?

  The questions gave Jared pause—what did he care if Lea was sick or not? He could only assume that she'd run away the moment she'd realised her condition—leading him to suspect the child was his.

  Surely she didn't think for one heartbeat that he'd permit her to deliver a bastard child?

  Since they'd taken no precautions, the blame was as much his as it was hers. In his mind it was more so his fault. He'd sworn not to ever let this happen. But lust and desire for Lea had won out over his usual common sense.

  Even if she claimed the child was not his, he wasn't about to spend the rest of his life wondering if she lied. A marriage between them—whether by force or not—would alleviate any wondering on his part.

  'My lord?'

  Jared peered at the guard through the rain. 'Don't tell me, let me guess—she's stopped again?'

  The man had no need to answer. It was plain from his dour expression and clenched, white-knuckled grip on his reins that Lea had indeed come to another halt.

  Jared shrugged, trying not to let his impatience get the best of him. Then he dismissed the guard.

  'See if you can find some dry shelter.'

  He hoped Agatha had experience delivering a child, because at the rate Lea's group was progressing the babe would be born on the road.

  Chapter Fourteen

  To Lea's chagrin, King David awaited her in the bailey when she arrived. With her hopes of a luxurious hot bath and changing into clean clothing before requesting an audience dashed, she smiled as best she could.

  Lea dismounted, then moved to bow, but David grasped her hand to stop her. 'I think we can do without the formalities. What brings you to New Castle, Lady Lea?'

  If not today, some day soon it would indeed be a new casde. Not even when her father had rebuilt Montreau had there been so many workers seeing to the reconstruction of the keep.

  She dipped her head in respect none the less before nearly shouting her answer over the din of hammering and sawing. 'My lord, I beg your protection for me and my travelling companions.'

  After ordering men to see to her horses and guards, he looked down at her as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm to escort her to the keep. 'Protection? Is someone seeking to bring you harm?'

  Agatha followed them toward the keep. She said nothing aloud, but Lea heard the woman's grumbling.

  'No, I'm sorry, maybe respite would be a better explanation.'

  Lea gritted her teeth and glared over her shoulder at another round of muttered grumbles from her maid.

  'It must be of a political nature for you to have come to me for sanctuary instead of going to the church.'

  Of course King David would assume she'd seek personal respite at the church. He was said to be as pious as his mother before him. But she wasn't looking for her soul's comfort.

  'Maybe a litde of both.'

  David patted her hand. 'With your father gone, I am glad you came to me.'

  'You always had my father's trust. I would go to no other.' She'd not insult him by adding there was no other place for her to go.

  Once inside the keep, Agatha followed a servant up to a chamber. King David led Lea to a couple of chairs near a warm fire. Once she was settled, he asked, 'What is so dire you needed to leave Montreau?'

  She should have expected that question—wouldn't she have asked the same of someone visiting her unexpectedly? With no explanation at hand, at least not one she'd share, Lea fell back on what she knew would be a safe, acceptable answer. 'I just needed to escape Montreau for a few days, so I could think.'

  The surprise on his face prompted her to add, 'Ever since Charles died, it seems I'm pulled every which way. I found that I can't determine what would be best for Montreau while trying to run a keep and fending off would-be lords at the same time.'

  Thankfully, David nodded. 'I understand your brother-by- marriage felt a need to become your guardian.'

  Now it was her turn to be surprised. Word travelled quicker than she'd thought. 'Yes, but luckily his mind was changed.'

  'By you or Matilda's nephew?'

  Lea stared at the king. Had he been spying on Montreau? Why? Was he thinking of adding her lands to his property, too?

  Before she could form an answer, or her own quesdon, he leaned closer to explain, 'Don't tell him, but my niece the empress wasn't certain there wouldn't be trouble when Warehaven sailed into your bay. She'd sent word to me asking that I be ready to defend him and Montreau should it prove necessary.'

  'Ah.' Lea's worries fled. She should have guessed that Madlda would ask her uncle to assist Jared if necessary. The three of them were related through blood or marriage. 'That makes sense.'

  'So, my dear, what great troubles do you need to sort out in private?'

  She paused. The back of her neck dngled with the feeling that someone was watching them, listening to their conversation. But a quick glance around the Great Hall made her doubt the odd sensation.

  'Marriage,' she answered, lowering her voice to add, 'Or prolonged widowhood.'

  David laughed. 'I am surprised you don't already have half-a- dozen lords, or would-be lords, camped outside your keep already.'

  'Villaire and his offering were enough, thank you.'

  'And who did he think to offer up?'

  'Blackstone—John Blackstone.'

  David frowned a few minutes, then he shook his head. 'Never heard of him.'

  'He was just another pawn for Villaire to control. I worry now that Markam will go running to Stephen demanding guardianship.'

  'You have no need to fear that. Stephen might change his mind often enough, but I'm certain had he wanted Montreau controlled by Villaire, guardianship would already have been granted.'

  Even though the idea of Stephen granting anything in regards to Montreau chafed, she hoped King David was right.

  'As much as you may wish it, you do realise that you will not be able to remain a widow for long?'

  Lea shivered. Once again it seemed that they were being watched. But they were alone—or so it appeared.

  'Lea?'

  She turned her attention back to King David, determined to ignore her unexplainable apprehension.

  'They won't permit you to remain a widow.'

  'I know.' She knew he was right. Whether she wanted a husband or not mattered little. The only thing that mattered was Montreau.

  'Child, you could make this easier on yourself.'

  'How?' Lea was certain she'd thought about this from every angle—and none of the options appeared easy to her.

  'Choose.'

  'What? Choose what?'

  David rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if looking for guidance from above. 'A side, Lea.

  Choose a side. Then let your liege find you a decent man to wed.'

  'No.' Her stomach rolled. 'I can't do that. Montreau's neutrality is all that keeps my men out of this battle and alive.'

  He grasped her shoulder. 'I do not say this out of heartlessness. Lea, I know what you have lost. I know that pain well. But you keep it alive with this fear of yours.'

  'I have nothing to fear as long as my keep and people stay out of this war.'

  'Phillip was not in a battle when he was killed. And going into battle does not guarantee death.'

  'Perhaps not.' She pulled away from his touch. 'But pitting armed men against each other only increases the likelihood of their death.'

  'Your father did you no favour by loving you too much.'

  That comment made litde sense to her. 'How so?'

  'You should have been wed to a lord—a well-seasoned warrior before you grew old enough to form such strange ideas.'

  'Oh, yes, then that way I would have become used to men fighting and dying.'

  'Nobody grows used to it.' He pinned her with a hard stare. 'But they soon l
earn it is the way of life. If you want to keep your possessions, you fight to hold them.'

  'I retain possession of Montreau through our neutrality.'

  'Damn it, girl. Stephen and Matilda are not going to let you do so for much longer. They are both running out of gold, they both need men and the supplies a town or field can provide.'

  'No. I have writs from both of them. They—'

  'Listen to me, Lea. One day—maybe one day sooner than you think—one of them will be at your walls with an army. They will take by force what you think to hold by peace. What if it is Madlda who arrives first? What if it is my army outside your gates? What will you do then?'

  He was frightening her with this talk of Montreau's fall. 'You were my father's strongest ally, why would you do such a thing?'

  'You are not your father. You cannot hold your keep without a man to see to its defence.'

  'How do you justify killing men with whom you've shared a table? You would attack me and mine because I don't have a husband?'

  He glared at her before rubbing a hand across his forehead. 'Probably not.' David sighed. 'I would first try to talk to Madlda and you. But not every lord would be as kind-hearted. Some are just waiting for the order to take Montreau from you.'

  She exhaled in relief. 'I thank you for that. My lord, I realise that even though I wish not to remarry, that Montreau has to have a strong arm in charge of our defences.'

  'Have you given at least some thought to who might interest you?'

  'Not yet I haven't. I was hoping to find a day or two of peace here in which to clear my head so that I might give it some thought.'

  'I will be here for at least a fortnight. Take as much time as you need until then.'

  Lea hoped she could come up with a solution to her situation well before then. 'Thank you.'

  David motioned to a servant. 'I'm sure you would appreciate a hot bath and rest before the evening meal.'

  Lea rose, eager to let a hot bath ease the stiffness from her muscles. 'That sounds heavenly.' She dipped her head. 'Until later then, my lord.'

  From his hiding spot in the shadows, Jared watched her disappear up the stairs. He then stepped out of the curtained alcove behind King David. 'Interesting.'