The Other Woman Read online

  THE OTHER WOMAN

  By

  Autumn Dawn

  © copyright October 2004, Autumn Dawn Beaudreault

  Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright October 2004

  ISBN 1-58608-143-8

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter 1

  Allyson’s betrothed stopped cold on the threshold, his face a mask of shock. She really couldn’t blame him. After all, it wasn’t everyday a man discovered his fiancée and his mistress gathered in the same room.

  "Do come in, Roland." Allyson gestured ironically at the velvet couch his long- time love, Marissa, occupied. "You’re just in time for tea."

  Marissa smiled anxiously at him, and like a man in a nightmare, he complied.

  Now that all the players of this little drama had assembled, Allyson poured the tea, careful to conceal the nervous trembling of her fingers as she poured his. Black, just the way he liked it.

  Wary as a cornered tom cat, Roland’s tense gray gaze moved between the two women. "What is going on?"

  With an impatient sigh, Allyson gestured with her cup, careful not to spill. This would be one of the most difficult things she’d done in all her fifteen years, but it was the only solution she could think of that all parties might live with. "Our parents are forcing us to wed, Roland. I can sympathize with your situation--your family badly needs their king’s approval, and in any case we can’t commit treason. No matter what we feel, our monarchs are determined this foolish deal will help reinforce the peace between our people. I know you don’t go willingly into this, especially since I am being forced. Mistress or not, I still find you a far better choice than losing my head."

  Her face darkened. Her father was delighted with the betrothal, since he’d found her particularly difficult to marry off. In one stroke her father would be shut of this most troublesome daughter and form an advantageous alliance. From his point of view, he couldn’t lose.

  Besides, her father knew she favored their neighbor Roland--she always had. So did he. Unfortunately his view on mistresses and hers did not mesh. To his mind they were no threat to the lady of the house, merely a mild diversion. Didn’t he have one himself? Such a paltry thing had never bothered her mother, or anyone else. She would marry Roland.

  Allyson felt differently. If she couldn’t have the whole man, then she would accept nothing at all, husband or not. Her father had underestimated her determination, and her cunning.

  Using the weight of her cup and saucer to still her betraying hands, Allyson continued, "This being the case, I thought we should hammer out an agreement between us." Her circling cup included the three of them. Using as much gentle persuasion as she could, she proposed, "They may force the vows from our lips, but they can force nothing else, do you understand?" Expression fierce, she leaned forward. "I know you love Marissa; would marry her if you could." Her eyes flicked to Marissa’s stomach. "I know about the child."

  There was no sound in the room, but Roland quietly took Marissa’s hand. A black lock slipped over his forehead, shielding one gray eye as he glanced at his love’s belly. His child slept there, and by the look in his eye, nothing would convince him to give it up.

  It was all Allyson needed to see. With every ounce of persuasive power she had in her, she looked deep into his eyes. "Keep her as the wife of your heart, Roland. When we stand before the bishop, let me stand as proxy for her. After the vows, let us retire to the room, but do nothing. After the household is asleep, go to her and be her husband in truth. Let things remain pure between you."

  The lovers exchanged glances; hers loving and filled with painful hope, his intense with unspoken emotion.

  Eyes bright, Roland said roughly to Allyson, "And what of you? How will you go on?"

  Safely hidden, her heart gave a painful lurch. Dark-eyed and full of warrior’s fire, Roland Darchours was the only man she’d ever wanted, and the last one she would ever have.

  A pleasant smile on her face, Allyson waved a hand. "I? I will be free." She forced the smile to brighten, afraid that he would see.

  It will not happen, she thought, determined. This was a private pain. No one would ever be privy to it but her. "Content in my role as cupid, I shall travel about the continent, see the sights. All considered, we should rarely have cause to see each other." The smile slipped as she became more serious. "Do we have a deal, Roland Darchours?"

  For a moment his gaze sharpened, became piercing. For a horrible second, she thought he guessed what she was not saying.

  Then he looked at Marissa. Slowly his hand covered her belly, and there was so much love in his gaze that Alyson wanted to cry. "Aye," he rasped. "It will be as you say." Those dark eyes pierced her once again. "I am in debt to you, my lady. More than you will ever know." Unspoken lay his silent promise to make it up to her, whatever the cost.

  Aware that such a thing was never likely to happen this side of heaven, Allyson nodded and avoided his eyes as if it were a trivial matter they’d just settled. "Very good." With a firm clink, she set down her cup and rose to her feet. "Now if you’ll just excuse me, I think I’ll go to my room and plan my travels. Good day to you." She nodded politely at the lovers and walked without hurrying to the door.

  Only when she was safely locked within her own room did she slump against the thick door. One by one the tears fell, silent witness to the hurt inside.

  Chapter 2

  Two years after the wedding…

  Roland lunged against his chains. They cut deeply into the raw welts he’d already torn in his wrists, but he didn’t care. A lady, his captors had said. A lady had betrayed him. His eyes narrowed with savage fury. Ally. Ally had betrayed him.

  A boat was coming. He could not see it through the fog, but the occasional clank of oars, a guttural swear word drifted over the sea.

  Neptune’s breath curled around Roland’s nearly naked body, stealing heart and warmth. One of the sneaky dogs who’d waylaid him glanced his way, checking to see that he was still securely bound to the rocks. Several of the sailor’s comrades had been slain before they’d taken him down, no shallow feat since Roland had been alone when he’d been ambushed. Perhaps the man feared the chains might not hold him.

  He should fear it.

  The boat slipped from the fog and grated against the rocks. Roland could hear a quick conversation in a foreign tongue, the clink of coins.

  Sold as a slave. Betrayed by a lady.

  Ally would pay for this.

  Eight Years Later…

  Roland checked his saddlebags and gave his girth a sharp tug. There was a fresh lead on the man stalking his friend Uric’s woman, and it would take him out of town overnight. For a slinking toad, the man had been surprisingly hard to track. They were certain he was in Queenstown, but his exact whereabouts were still a mystery. They needed to find him soon, because Eville only became more persistent and nasty with time.

  "Roland!" A tall courtier strode toward him. His slightly uneven teeth flashed white in a quick smile of greeting. Streaks of silver shot through his goatee and chin length black hair, though Dante Inferato was only a handful of years older than his brother Roland. But like Roland, years of war and fire had forged his silver. Though he might look like a pampered nobleman, the temper of the Inferno, as he was called, was legend. Kings and beggars alike walked in awe of him.

  Dante patted Roland’s horse and glanced at the bulging saddle bags. "Going somewhere?"

  "To track a killer. Want
to come?" Roland flashed his brother an ironic grin. It was the sort of sport Dante enjoyed best.

  "Actually, I had a different sort of intrigue in mind. Something of great interest to my piratical brother." He flicked Roland’s ear on his blind side, teasing him as only an older sibling would dare. There were few people who took such a light view of Roland’s lost eye, though Roland had long since grown used to the nervous reactions to his patch. Dante had gifted him with the silver inlaid black leather, telling him in jest that he might as well make use of the thing to intimidate the craven. Saints knew the courts were teaming with them.

  "Sorry. Perhaps when I get back." He placed his foot in the stirrup.

  "Your wife is here."

  Slowly his booted foot came down. Allyson.

  As casually as if what he said wasn’t of great importance, Dante went on, "Apparently she’s in seclusion, for no one has seen her, nor does anyone know what brought her here. I caught a glimpse of her myself, though only through diligent effort. I think she knows you are here, and she’s avoiding you."

  "Wise girl." Roland’s intense anger at her was one of the reasons that had kept him away from Riverdell. Much as he wanted the truth, a part of him feared he’d kill her on the spot. A lady had betrayed him. He’d never doubted that lady had been her.

  But he’d never forgotten what she’d done for him and Marissa, back when he had cared about the conniving wench. At the time Allyson’s gesture had greatly moved him, especially since he’d suspected that she was a little moonstruck by him. It surely must have been difficult to bear the shame of being a new bride while her husband openly kept his mistress.

  At the time he’d made a silent vow to repay her. Restraining himself from hunting her down and crucifying her must surely count for something. After all, if that didn’t count as a like sacrifice of monolithic proportions, he didn’t know what did.

  Too bad the bitch had turned on him. Betrayed by a lady.

  Roland snarled and spat on the ground. Some lady.

  Aware as he was of Roland’s past, Dante also knew how his brother had shunned Riverdell. This was probably why he kept his face expressionless as he said, "I did a bit of research on the matter."

  Roland glared at him. "You meddled."

  "My hobby," he said modestly. "You might be interested to know that she keeps journals. Rather detailed, I might add. They’re right there in her study at Riverdell, in plain sight on her bookshelves for the world to see."

  "Or for a snooping guest to help himself to?"

  "It was late. In spite of her colorful reputation, the lady declined to entertain me in her bed. I had to resort to a bit of reading to tire myself."

  "And?" Rage coiled in his gut, demanding a target. If there was proof that Allyson had betrayed him....

  "I think you should go to Riverdell and see the books for yourself." Dante’s expression was grave. Whatever he had found must have been momentous indeed.

  Roland blew out a breath. The last thing he wanted was to confront that fortress of evil memories. "You could have simply stolen them for me!"

  "Brother, there are simply some things a man must see for himself. Go to Riverdell. I think the peace which has eluded you these last years awaits there."

  Peace. Oh, aye. Roland laughed without humor. Even if he hung the vicious witch, there would be no peace for him. Death wouldn’t undo what had happened to him. Though perhaps it was time that the queen of bitches saw justice. Rumor had it that she’d been terrorizing the countryside. No doubt his neighbors would thank him if he saw her removed and a decent steward set over Riverdell instead.

  Perhaps it was time he stopped listening to the wounded feelings of a naïve young man and took action like the warrior he was.

  He mounted his horse. "I will think about it." In the meantime, he had a stalker to catch.

  * * * *

  Ally eyed her brother-in-law from under her horse’s belly. The beast had gone lame, and she’d chosen to see to him herself rather than trust him to the queen’s grooms. One could never be too careful. And until her face was well-known at court, she would continue to use her minstrel guise to get about. If even Roland, who had unwittingly traveled in her company for weeks, could not recognize her, then there was little chance of anyone else doing so. Only Dante, who had made the occasional visit at Riverdell, had realized who she was as yet. It was ridiculously easy to fool the court, who had little attention for anyone other than themselves. It was almost frightening, considering that these were the people supposedly guiding the country.

  Her in-laws were a prime example of someone to be watched. If she didn’t take care, she was sure Dante would talk her into doing something she wouldn’t like.

  "You should at least meet with him. Hiding from him will only make you look cowardly," Dante said smoothly.

  She turned her attention to the heat in her horse’s leg. "Now why would he care to visit with his "tyrannical, tempestuous fishwife" when he could loll about in bed with any of the court’s light-skirts? I hear general Argus’ daughter is quite the vixen. You should recommend her to him."

  After ten years of neglect, she certainly didn’t care who he slept with. Not that it would have mattered if she had. Roland’s amorous pursuits were famous from Rome to the Holy Land, on a par with his reputation for mayhem and bloodshed. Only his berserker friend Uric rivaled his body count, though he was at peril of being tamed by Ally’s friend Ceylon. God save her.

  "You shouldn’t quote the gossips, and he can find his own lovers. Bring him home for a short time, at least. You might find him of use against your more pesky neighbors," Dante insisted with nauseating persistence.

  She gave him the evil eye. "I manage Riverdell. Alone. And if I need an extra sword about the place, I’ll hire it. Saints know I’ve got gold enough. Commerce was one of the few things my father forced on me which turned into a blessing, the blighter." The marriage he’d imprisoned her in certainly hadn’t been. Of course, her happiness had been the last thing on his mind. Had he actually cared about that, he’d have married her off to a goat herd. At least the man would have been around to help milk the goats. It certainly couldn’t have been harder than running several estates and fighting off her grasping neighbors.

  Dante leaned a shoulder against the stall wall without a care for his velvet coat. It was a ruse, she knew. Dante became whatever he needed to extract information. She’d seen that careless air before.

  "Speaking of Riverdell, what has forced you from it? The passes are nasty in this weather. Was your business so pressing that you had to be here in such haste?"

  She sent him a knowing look. "Master spy, leave off. Had I wanted you to know, you’d have known it."

  He chuckled. "As you will, lady." He made her a low bow, and left.

  A shiver made her flip her collar up. There was something snaky about that man. As debonair as he pretended to be when in her company, she’d still heard rumors of his viciousness in battle. Though neither he nor Roland’s father bothered her overmuch, both made a habit of dropping by from time to time. Every time they came she felt their sharp eyes watching, considering her stewardship. It was nerve-wracking.

  They could learn a thing or two from Roland and let her alone.

  Memories of him made her scowl and pay closer attention to her smearing the ointment on her horse’s leg. A wise woman never dwelt on the follies of marriage. If she had her way, the last time she would see Roland would be in the queen’s audience chamber. As soon as her business was through, she intended to charter a ship and find a nice, sunny isle with a throng of half-naked native men lining the beach. Thanks to her useless husband and the heavy demands of keeping Riverdell prosperous, she’d wasted a lot of living.

  Ally wanted a lover.

  But not just any lover. Someone uncomplicated, carnal. A man completely uninterested in money, someone possessive and faithful. Preferably a stud with the drive to go all night and an awesome craving for her. True, it was a tall order, but whi
le she was dreaming....

  Of course, she knew it was unlikely. At most she would find someone tolerable and handsome. That wasn’t such a bad thing. It was more than she had now, more than many women had. And if she never again had to earn the money while a man went off to war and squandered it.... Sounded like heaven to her.

  * * * *

  Snowmelt dripped off Roland’s hair and ran down the line of his nose. Blighted weather. This close to the coast, one never knew if it would spit snow, rain, or a soggy mixture of both.

  There were few fishermen in the ill-lit inn, so it was easy to spot the one he was seeking. There weren’t too many balding redheads with coin sized moles on their scalps scampering about the world. A man matching that description was seated at a rickety corner table.

  "My lord!" The fellow made haste to stand and wave him over. Roland motioned for his man to remain by the door and keep an eye out while he took care of business.

  "What do you know?" Roland demanded the moment he sat down. The chill and damp had robbed him of any good humor he’d had left. Chasing fruitless rumors about Eville’s whereabouts had soured the rest.

  "Word has it you’ll pay good coin for certain information," the balding one said, watching him cautiously.

  Roland flipped a coin on the table. It was quickly scooped up.

  "Right, then." Watery blue eyes glanced around at the mostly empty room. The stench of his breath nearly knocked Roland over as the fellow leaned forward. "You were right, my lord. She did pay out the tithes, and faithfully, too. My brother’s wife’s father’s friend rode with those hired to collect it."

  Confused, Roland demanded, "What are you talking about?

  The fisherman frowned. "I was told you wanted information about your wife’s doings. That other lord who came through here said you’d want to know where the money’d gone."

  "What other lord?" Suspicious, Roland put one hand on his sword and looked around for a trap. If Eville had set one....