If Love Dares Enough (2 page)

Bileaud cleared his throat. “Far be it from me to criticize,
milord.
”

“Bileaud, I never met Lord Arnulf, but I know Guillaume de Valtesse.”

The steward’s shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension. “Well,
milord
—enough said, perhaps.”

Hugh smirked, nodded and sat down. “We’ll ride out at dawn. Make sure the stable master has Velox saddled. And since Lord Antoine is leaving today, I’ll sup in my own chambers this evening. In fact, I’ll be supping there every evening.”

Bileaud couldn’t hide his surprise. “Alone,
milord
?”

“
Oui
. But the men-at-arms may still sup in the Great Hall. Have the meal served there as usual. I’ll take all my meals in my chamber.”

Seated in the chair next to his brother, Antoine had said nothing during this exchange, but now his worry for his brother intensified. When the steward had left, he looked intently at Hugh. “Why do you plan to eat alone?”

Hugh shrugged, avoiding Antoine’s gaze. “I prefer my own company.”

Antoine rose and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But supping in the Hall with the men and the people of the castle is a way to get to know them, for them to get to know you, to inspire their loyalty.”

Hugh got up abruptly and walked away. “They’ll come to know me soon enough.”

Antoine shook his head. “This is so unlike you, Hugh.”

“That’s the way of it now, Antoine.”

“What is it you’re afraid of?”

Hugh whirled to face his brother. “I’m afraid of nothing,” he replied angrily. “Leave it be.”

Antoine exhaled, frustrated. “Fine. There’s enough daylight left for me to make it to Belisle. Go with God, little brother.”

They embraced, but Antoine could feel the stiffness in Hugh’s shoulders. He strode out, reluctant to leave his troubled brother alone, but not knowing what else to do.

Lady Devona Melton had never known such fear in all her seven and ten years. She could scarcely believe the brutish Norman soldiers hadn’t killed her grandfather when he’d challenged their menacing, pock-faced captain, Torod.

In the months since the Norman invasion, they’d heard rumours of many other Saxon families being evicted from estates the length and breadth of Sussex. So far they’d escaped attention, isolated on their rocky promontory overlooking the sea. Though life hadn’t been easy, Melton Manor allowed them to be self-sufficient, as the bleak winter of the year of Our Lord One Thousand and Sixty-Seven ground on.

Now Normans had come, the steam rising from their warhorses mingling with the soldiers’ breath in the frigid air. But her grandfather had coolly stood his ground, the normally gentle Boden and Brigantia growling at his side. Incredibly, Torod had backed down and the gang had ridden off, the massive dogs on their heels.

“Norman scum!” Sir Gerwint Melton spat as he strode back into the house. “They’re gone. You can come out now.”

Devona and her two younger sisters emerged, shivering, from their hiding place in the false wall behind the larder.

“Will they come back?” five year old Aediva asked timidly.

Gerwint stroked her hair. “Perhaps yes, perhaps no,” he replied. “They seem to want to particularly harass us because King Harold himself was our overlord.”

Her widowed grandfather had become resigned to the Norman victory, devastated three sennights before the disastrous Battle of Hastings by the death of his only son, Devona’s father, in King Harold’s decisive victory against the Norwegians at the battle of Stamford Bridge. The only thing keeping him going now seemed to be the fate of his granddaughters. She could see the anger gripping him after his encounter with the Normans.

“This manor is your birthright since none of the sons your parents sired survived past their fifth birthday. We shall fight to the death to keep it for you. Devona, you’ll need this holding as your dowry.”

Devona shook her head. “But who will I marry now? Most of the gallant young knights of England were cut down or maimed by the Conqueror at Hastings with our good King Harold, or at Dover, Canterbury or Wallingford.”

It seemed that in the blink of an eye the coming of the Normans had changed the future that she’d thought was predestined. Her doting parents would have found a suitable Saxon noble for her to wed and she would have lived happily ever after. Now—

Gerwint took her by the hand. “We’ll find someone for you, Devona. You’re a beautiful, intelligent girl, and many men will want you for wife. It will be my last duty to you. Then you must take care of your sisters—and your mother.”

Recognizing the hint of despair in her grandfather’s voice, Devona looked sadly towards the stairs that led to her mother’s bedchamber. Lady Wilona Melton hadn’t risen from her bed since the news had come from Stamford Bridge, hadn’t spoken, just stared blankly at the wall or ceiling.

They’d lost so much since the coming of the hated Normans. Fear seemed their constant companion, their future insecure.

Where will we go if they put us out? We’ll starve, if we don’t freeze to death.

***

A sennight later the Normans came again, this time so swiftly Sir Gerwint Melton didn’t have time to conceal his granddaughters. Now a swarthy, bearded knight led them, Torod at his side. Gerwint motioned the girls to stay behind him at the door of the manor. Boden ambled up to stand by his master, his massive head raised, body poised.

Reining his snorting steed to a halt, the knight crowed, “Well, well, so there is more to this manor than we first thought. Well done, Torod. You were right. This wily old Saxon has been hiding something.”

Gerwint stood firm, arms folded across his chest. “State your business, Norman, and then be gone!”

The knight smirked, smoothing his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. “You and this manor are my business Saxon. It’s to be mine, and everything in it.”

Gerwint’s voice remained icy. “This manor has belonged to my family for generations. You can’t simply steal it.”

The Norman dismounted and strolled over to where Gerwint stood shielding his granddaughters. “Perhaps you’re not aware, old man, that you’re a conquered people. We can take what we like.”

Boden growled at the intruder and moved towards him.

“Curb that hound, Saxon!” the knight spat, flicking his glove in the dog’s direction.

Gerwint hooked his hand into the jewelled collar around the mastiff’s neck and pulled back. “Sit, Boden,” he whispered. The dog sat at Gerwint’s feet, but remained alert, bristling.

The Norman beckoned Aediva. “Come here, little one,” he cajoled, his eyes on Devona.

Gerwint’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. Boden barked and growled. The knight’s jaw clenched. “My men will have you and the children cut down before you can blink.”

Gerwint took his hand from the weapon, cursing under his breath.

“Come here, little one,” the bully repeated, his voice more threatening, eyes still fixed on Devona. Aediva crept forward, clinging to her grandfather’s leg. The Norman crouched down and took her by the arm. “You have a very beautiful sister, little one. I’m sure she wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, would she?”

Aediva couldn’t speak.

“Would she?” He squeezed the child’s arm more tightly.

“No—my lord,” Aediva sobbed.

Devona stepped forward despite the protestations of her grandfather and said softly, “Please don’t hurt her, my lord. She’s only a child.”

The man stood, towering over her, and Devona could feel his foul breath on her face. His nose was red from the cold, his face pinched. She looked up and saw the greyness of his eyes darken as he stared at her breasts. “I am Sir Renouf de Maubadon. Your name?”

“Lady Devona Melton,” she whispered, averting her eyes.

“Well, Lady Devona Melton, you haven’t seen the last of me. I think I’ll be very happy with this manor house. For the moment, I bid you
adieu
. I’ll leave Torod and some of my men here—to make sure you’re protected, you understand?”

He remounted and rode away. Torod glared at the Meltons for a few moments and then pulled his horse to the stable.

Gerwint choked out a ragged breath as he sagged with relief. “They’ll be back, and we’ll be evicted.”

Aediva and Bemia cuddled into their sister and Devona knelt to hold them more tightly. “Where will we go?” she murmured.

Gerwint was pensive for a while before he spoke again. “I don’t know. Perhaps to the Downs. Gather together your most precious things, no more than you can carry—and warm clothing. Be careful not to let the toad see what you’re doing.”

***

Renouf de Maubadon came to Melton Manor again a sennight later, accompanied by a contingent of armed men who bore no uniform, no device on their surcoats. The Melton family had found no opportunity to flee, thanks to the ever watchful Torod.

“You’re not welcome here, Norman,” Gerwint said, blocking the doorway.

“Are all Saxons as inhospitable as you, old man?” Renouf replied icily. “I merely come to court your beautiful daughter, Devona. You should be glad I find her pleasing.”

Gerwint stood firm. “She’s not interested in Normans.”

Renouf pushed past him, almost shoving the old man over. “I’ll be the judge of that. Instruct her to meet me in her solar forthwith.”

Gerwint pursued him into the house. “She’s an unmarried woman. You can’t shame her by being alone with her.”

Renouf stopped and turned around. “Don’t worry, old fool. She won’t be unmarried for long,” he smirked. “Now, go find her.”

Gerwint hesitated, then skulked away. Renouf strode off, a smile on his lips.

When Devona entered her solar a short time later, head bowed, Renouf sensed her fear.

Good!

She curtseyed, then straightened to stand before him. He walked around her, his eyes taking in the curve of her well-developed breasts. “You’re very pleasing to look at, Lady Devona. I find green eyes appealing.”

Devona was silent as Renouf blew on his hands then rubbed them together. He put his face close to hers. “Have you nothing to say in reply?”

Devona kept her eyes downcast. “What—would you have me say—sir?”

He lifted her chin. “Ah! You speak my language. Educated as well as beautiful. You could say you find me pleasing too.”

Devona remained silent.

Without warning, Renouf grasped her tightly by both wrists, twisting her arms behind her back, crushing her breasts against his chain mail.

“Sir—you’re hurting me,” she pleaded.

“Then say you find me pleasing, and I’ll release you.” He tightened his grip on her wrists.

“I find you—pleasing,” she stammered.

He released her, satisfied with the fear in her voice. “Was that so hard? I appreciate women who are obedient, who do what they’re told. I tend to get impatient otherwise, and I’m not a pleasant person when I’m impatient. Take off your wimple.”

Without waiting for her to comply he tore off the head covering. Raven hair fell to her shapely hips. Coldly fingering a lock of her thick tresses, he asked, “Are you still a maid?”

Devona gasped. Renouf could see the tears welling in her eyes. “Yes or no? It’s a simple question, wench.”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Are you betrothed to anyone?”

She shook her head slightly. “No, I’m not betrothed.”

Renouf snorted. “Now you are.”

Devona looked up. “Sir?”

He took hold of her hand. “You’re now my betrothed. I’ll inform your grandfather and see to the nuptials.”

“But you’re a Norman.”

He grabbed her by the throat with one hand and hissed, “Never say that to me again in such a tone of voice.”

He kissed her on the lips, forcing his tongue into her mouth. When he released her she staggered backwards, wiping her sleeve across her mouth. He slapped her across the face. “And never do that again.”

She fell to the floor sobbing. He had a momentary notion to kick her before he left, but thought better of it.

Maybe later.

The thought aroused him as he sought out Torod to give him his instructions.

***

Devona’s grandfather found her on the floor and saw the angry red welt on her face.

“My child, my dear child,” he cried, kneeling beside her. “I won’t allow him to abuse you this way.”

“It’s perhaps our only chance, Grandpapa,” she murmured. “If he’s determined to wed me—”

“Wed you! I told him in no uncertain terms there’ll be no marriage.”

“What did he say in reply?”

Gerwint shook his head. “He smirked.”

Devona struggled to her feet with her grandfather’s help. “At least he wants to wed and not simply make me his whore. Perhaps I can use that to our advantage, make him agree to let all of us stay, and not just me.”

Gerwint put his arm around his granddaughter’s shoulders. “I could never ask such a thing of you, child.”