The Dumont Bride (10 page)

H
e was meeting with Luc in the solar early the next morning as planned, to discuss the defensive needs of the keep, when the call came. Not from Geoff’s room as he had expected, but from Emalie’s chambers. The servant would only say that he was needed above.

He raced up the flights of stairs and arrived winded from the run. Luc was at his heels the whole way. Christian cleared the hallway himself with a furious bellow and was met at the door by Alyce.

“How is she, Alyce? What happened?”

“She was coming to the hall from my lord’s brother’s room and passed out. Sir Walter brought her here.”

“Have you called someone? Who takes care of the healer?” He looked helplessly from Alyce to Luc and back again.

“I have called a woman from the village, my lord. She is within now.”

He reached for the door, but Alyce stepped in front of the latch and Luc grabbed his tunic from behind.

“She will come out when she is done, my lord. Give her some time.”

“Emalie is probably exhausted from caring for my brother. She will be fine.” He said it as much to convince himself as them. The sound of talking within eased his concerns. Emalie must be awake.

This was probably his fault. After taking advantage of her innocence and introducing her to physical pleasure, the strain of caring for her brother had been too much.

The door opened and a woman even older and grayer than Alyce emerged. Pulling the door to a quiet close, she looked around the corridor until she saw him and then nodded at him. So thin she looked emaciated, Christian did not know whether or not to believe that this woman was also a healer.

“My lord,” she said with a slight bow. “I am Enyd from the village.”

“Is she ill?” Christian asked, looking past the woman to Emalie’s room.

“No more or less than any woman who is breeding, my lord. She will be fine after a bit of rest. I will check on her in another sennight.”

“Breeding?” he asked. He knew what the word meant, but it could not apply in this situation. They had been married long enough, of course, but until last evening had never had a physical relationship at all. “Breeding?”

“Felicitations, my lord. As hale and hearty as milady is, she’ll give you many healthy heirs.” Enyd left without another word.

He turned to her maid, who must know the verity of this, but Alyce had taken advantage of his surprise to slip into Emalie’s room. Suddenly Luc was smacking him on the back and offering glad tidings to him. It
took but a look to still his friend’s outburst. And as he stared into his friend’s eyes, the truth struck him.

His wife was pregnant.

It could not be his child.

The walls around him began to move and a steel vise seemed to close around his head and his chest. Bursts of light shattered his vision and he put his hand out on the wall to steady himself.

She had cuckolded him.

She had given herself to another man and now bore proof of her sin.

Humiliation and dishonor would once more be his and his family’s to bear because of her. Everything within him screamed for vengeance. His honor demanded action and his rage grew within him until he could almost not contain it.

“Chris? What is wrong? The midwife said she is fine.” Luc tried to offer help, but he could not. Luc did not know the basis for his shock and dismay.

He felt the rage ready to explode and knew he needed to separate himself from this place or everyone within would know the truth. He pulled from his friend’s grasp, ran down the stairs and out of the keep. Making his way to the stables, he called out orders to saddle up one of the mounts and, within minutes, he was charging out through the gates, going toward some unknown destination. He gave no thought to the mail he should have worn or the escort he should have taken. Only one thought filled his mind.

Emalie was pregnant with another man’s seed.

Every one of his most terrible doubts had been confirmed. He had been right to take away her duties and responsibilities. He had been right to replace her ways with his own. He had been right to request his own
men to come and work this estate with him…to guard against betrayal.

Unanswered questions burned through his mind in spite of running a treacherous path away and north from Greystone. He was forced to use all of his strength and concentration to control the horse beneath him. Finally, when both he and the mount were ready to collapse, he pulled to a stop. He continued on foot, following a stream to a lake, allowing the horse to cool off. But even feeling as though his body had been dragged this distance from Greystone, he could not cool his rage.

Then the plan behind this struck him—Eleanor had known. Richard may have, as well, but Eleanor had definitely plotted this. Her words on their wedding night came back to him.
There will be no repudiation of this marriage by either of you.
It had not been a comment, it had been an order from probably the most devious and experienced of all the Plantagenet players.

Richard may or may not have been a part of the planning, but he had certainly played into his mother’s hands. For what reason, he knew not, but a mere nobleman could not guess at the intricate ploys and plots of the royal family. Richard, John and Eleanor were all each other’s staunchest supporters and bitterest enemies, changing sides, it sometimes appeared to outsiders, at the whim and will of the wind.

Christian tugged at the reins, guiding the horse to the side of the shallow lake to drink. Kneeling nearby, he splashed the cool water on his face and sipped some from his hands. When he could breathe once more, he hobbled the horse and sat under a tree.

Emalie. What had been her part in this? Who had she lain with? Whose babe did she carry now?

He rested his head in his hands and almost laughed at the irony in this situation. He had sold his soul to regain his and his family’s honor and now stood to lose it anyway, once the truth was known. Dishonor and the horns of the cuckold loomed before him. Disaster could be the only outcome of this and now he and his brother were in great danger.

Another contradictory facet struck him about this—he had found out the secret, or part of the secret, of Emalie’s involvement with John and he could not reveal it to the king. Now he did laugh out at the irony. For a feeling deep in his gut told him that John did play a part in Emalie’s dishonor; he might even have fathered the child.

What did he do now? Christian pulled at several strands of grass and twisted them around his fingers. Did he follow Eleanor’s obvious desires and not expose Emalie’s dishonor to all? That would mean keeping and recognizing the child she carried as his own and, if it were a male, as his heir.

If he exposed her guilt, he would bear the brand of the cuckolded husband and would be forced to put her aside and seek a new wife. He would probably lose all claim to Greystone, although there was a chance he could retain some or part of it at the king’s command. After all, his own lands came and went by order of the king. But the dishonor attached to her would spill back on him.

He stood and brushed the dirt and grass from him. Ah, this was not to be borne! All he had worked for, all he had begged and bargained for was at risk now because of the weakness of one woman. A woman he had to face upon his return. A woman who held his and his brother’s future in her lying, deceitful hands.

Loosening the straps from the horse’s legs, he regained his saddle and turned back the way he had come. He would face her with her sin and then decide which path to follow. A nauseous feeling filled him as he realized that his life and his honor were still not his own and that either choice he made would force him to play into the Plantagenet game where no one but they could win.

Pacing did not help. Neither did praying or sewing or simply worrying. He knew the truth of it and, by God, she feared him now more than she had that first night. Inwardly, she cursed her cowardliness, for it had been at the root of all this. And she waited…for his return and her punishment.

At this point, the story of his finding out she was breeding and his leaving the castle grounds at a breakneck speed on an unfamiliar mount were still separate stories. Gossip had it that he left because he was so upset by her illness. More said that he had yet to discover the cause of the illness, although breeding was a foregone conclusion by those of Greystone. The appearance of Enyd settled the bet for those of such a nature.

Until he came back, Emalie remained secluded, claiming ongoing illness. Unnerved by his lack of response and his precipitous departure, she had sent Walter and Luc out after him. It had been several hours since they’d left and, this time, without word was wearing on her nerves.

A commotion outside the solar’s windows drew her attention and she stood to look. Staying back just enough to see and not be seen, she watched as Christian rode through the gate, followed by both of their retain
ers. None of them looked anything but tired and miserable. As each one approached the keep, a boy from the stables took their horses and led them off. Christian looked neither right nor left and seemed not to hear any words spoken to him. Instead, he stared at the window where she stood and, although certain she was out of his sight, shivers down her back told her that he knew she watched.

Crossing from the windows, she sat in one of the high-backed chairs near the brazier and waited. She sipped a tea made of chamomile and other herbs, trying to calm the storm that raged inside her. The one she faced when her husband arrived would tax her greatly, so she used this time to calm herself as best she could.

The minutes dragged on and on and then, without warning or sound, he stood inside the door. She watched his approach, deciding that confrontation would not be in her best interest. The jangling of keys drew her attention to his hand. Her keys. Christian walked forward until right in front of her, and held out his hand; the sound of the keys banging together was discordant and disturbing.

“I had thought to offer these back to you last night. After my brother and Luc carried on at me so over my behavior toward you, I believed that it was time to let you take back control over those duties that a ladywife should have, especially one of such character and upbringing and capabilities.”

The urge to grab for them was great, but the cold look in his eyes when she finally met his gaze stopped her. She shuddered at the anger there and waited.

“I actually berated myself for not taking your opinions and advice under consideration.” He laughed harshly and raised his hand. Thinking he meant to
strike her, she shut her eyes and prepared for the blow. The sound of the keys hitting the wall behind her startled her.

“You would have been smarter to simply have let me bumble my way through our wedding night. God’s truth, as ill as I was, I might have missed your lack of a maidenhead altogether.”

It was difficult to meet his gaze, so much anger filled it. But at the same time, she could not look away. He reached out, grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. Then, as if he could not bear touching her, he dropped his hands and stepped back.

“Did Eleanor know when she summoned me here?” he asked, his quiet voice belying the rage she felt emanating from him.

“She suspected it might happen, my lord. That is why all haste was made in bringing you to Greystone.”

“So, she knew of your dishonor and chose to keep it secret from the man she decided should be your husband?”

“’Twould appear so, my lord.”

“Did she know the name of the man who you gave your virtue to?”

Emalie tried desperately to control her own anger. She had made some bad decisions in her attempts to retain the Harbridge estates and titles, but never once in this had she lost her honor or given away her virtue. She bit her tongue to keep the retort within her.

He stepped closer now and asked again. “Did the queen know who fathered your bastard?”

She winced at the words. He was bringing even more ugliness into this than had been brought so far and his biting words unnerved her.

“Aye, she knows.”

“I would have the name of the man who lay between my wife’s thighs before I did.”

She said nothing. He was deliberately being crude now, but she would not sink to that.

“The name, Emalie. I want his name now.”

She fought the urge to sink to her knees and beg his forgiveness. Taking a deep breath in and forcing it out, she made herself remember that she had not asked for the treatment she had received. And, if truth be told, she was more a victim in this than he.

She shook her head in refusal to his demand.

“Is it that so many climbed in your bed that you can not tell which one’s seed you carry within? Like a common wh—”

The slap surprised them both. She did not remember lifting her hand in answer to his insult, but the imprint on his face and the stinging of her palm made it clear she had slapped him.

“I am the Countess of Harbridge and have never sullied a vow I made, my lord. This unfortunate act took place prior to our marriage, prior to me ever knowing of your name or person, and I will say no more of it than that.”

He laughed at her, as though he could not believe her words or actions. “Unfortunate act? Is that what you call it?” He snarled the words back at her.

“I made some bad decisions, but what was done to me was not at my request or with my permission.” She kept her voice low and steady, trying not to aggravate this tempestuous confrontation any more.

“You would cry rape? And have me believe that your virtue was taken and not shared freely?” He turned from her and walked to the table. Pouring a
goblet of wine, he drank it without pause. Then he stared at her, awaiting a reply.

“I do not think you will believe anything I say about this, my lord.”

“Too true, lady. Too true,” he said, walking to stand before her once more. “I do not see all the strings yet, but without a doubt, I am a puppet in this. The more I struggle to see this clearly, the more the lines cross and tangle.”

She could feel the anger seeping from him suddenly. His appearance changed, too, as weariness overtook him and made him so much less a threat to her physically. Realizing that he was not yet recovered from his own illness, she almost reached out to him. He saw her move and stepped away, again disdain for her touch evident even with the exhaustion.