8

 

At that moment, Alex decided she was worth whatever grief she gave him. After all, she could not help but lose her hostility against him eventually, and the rewards of having her grew each day he knew her. William said Alex would not be disappointed with his choice. And Alex certainly had misgivings, but he could not deny his attraction to the girl. She would not be a model wife but would bring things to their marriage that would be impossible for another woman.

If only her eyes would not cloud over every time she caught sight of him.

When they rode into the courtyard, Captain Thomas was waiting for them, Hugh standing grim-faced beside the older knight. What now?

Isabel dropped to the ground. “What has happened?”

“More Welshmen have been sighted, my lady,” Captain Thomas replied in French.

Alex dismounted and exchanged a glance with Hugh, who silently confirmed the old man’s words. “How many?”

“A dozen, we think,” Captain Thomas said. “From the northwest, like before.”

Isabel idly patted her horse’s neck. “Reinforcements.” She sounded disappointed but resigned.

“I believe so, my lady.”

She blinked and looked once more at Captain Thomas. “Then we will have to be more convincing this time.”

Alex turned to her. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Isabel flinched but otherwise acted as if she had not heard him. “Captain, have the men make ready.”

“The preparations are already underway.”

“Good. I will change and join you in a moment.”

Before she took two steps, Alex’s hand clamped down on her upper arm. “I think not. You are in no condition to leave the safety of the castle.”

Isabel whirled and faced him. “If you recall, I left the safety of the castle today.”

“Ah yes, but you were under my protection then.”

Isabel’s head reared back like an incensed filly. “I have no need of your protection!”

“That may be,” he said with a dip of his head. “But you will allow my men to help yours in this matter. Our orders are to assist your family while we are here.”

At his nod, Hugh left to gather the men.

Alex returned his attention to Isabel. “And you will do us the favor and stay behind so you do not become a distraction when we fight the Welsh.”

“A distraction? How dare you!”

His mouth thinned. “Your injury has not fully healed. You would just be a liability.”

“You know nothing. This is not your fight.”

Alex laughed. “Nor is it yours, my lady,” he said. The emphasis curled her lip and brought angry color to her cheeks. “Let your father’s men do their duty, and I will do mine.”

By now, the men had gathered in the courtyard, English and Norman side by side. Alex looked them over and smiled when he saw Captain Thomas had donned his mail and was already astride a fine mount. “Bon. Captain Thomas will be responsible for communicating my orders to the English soldiers.” The old man would be an asset against a Welsh foe Alex had only heard rumors of.

His gaze then landed on Kendrick. As much as he respected Captain Thomas, his trust did not extend to his young protégé, who still eyed him with hatred. Alex would not fight alongside a man like that. “You will stay behind and ensure the safety of Lady Isabel.” The lad spat on the ground but dismounted nonetheless, and before Captain Thomas had a chance to translate. No surprise, that.

Isabel tugged on the sleeve of his overtunic. “You are making a mistake. I need to be there!”

Alex rounded on her. Her desperation was almost palpable, but she had no place on the battlefield, no matter how much she wished otherwise. “My lady, if you do not willingly stay behind, I will clap you in irons and chain you to your bed.”

Her mouth parted. It was a bluff, but she did not know that. Her gaze darted to Captain Thomas, and a whole conversation passed between them in silence.

Finally, she gave him a sharp nod and stepped away from him. She faced her men and said something in English. A lusty cheer went up.

His fellow Normans looked at each other uneasily. The cheer was eerily similar to the battle cries that had propelled the English army against them at Hastings. He shook the thought away as Hugh brought his mail and helped him slip it over his head.

He remounted and directed his horse so he once more faced Isabel, the boy Kendrick standing a few feet behind her. “What’s this, no words of encouragement for me and my men?”

Her frame still trembled with fury. She would forgive him this. Eventually.

“I hope the Welsh flay you alive.”

Alex laughed. “I look forward to disappointing you.”

* * * *

Kendrick followed Isabel into the castle. He did not say anything, but she knew the same fury twisting its way through her body wound through his. Servants scuttled away as she approached the main hall. She stood in front of the fire pit, holding her hands near the flames. She had not felt the chill earlier, but now it seemed to imbue everything.

Kendrick cleared his throat. “Your father would not have let you go either, if he were here.”

Isabel snorted. “And I suppose you and Captain Thomas would have made similar arguments.”

“Yes. Arguments you would have ignored.”

“Precisely.” She sighed. “I know he is William’s envoy, but Alexandre…” She trailed off, at a loss to explain how infuriating he was.

“He is a devil, and a highhanded one at that.”

Isabel looked at him sharply. “Still, I suppose we must not provoke him.”

Kendrick scoffed. “And you have done such a good job of that.” He shook his head. “Even if we wanted to fight them, it would be a fool’s venture.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised her. “I scarce knew you felt so strongly about this. For a moment I thought I was talking to my brother, Julien.”

He looked at her. “Do not mistake me. Your father is a good man. But William’s soldiers… You heard the reports as well as I.”

“I know.” Pevensey had been ransacked as soon as the Normans reached the English coast, Dover nearly burned to the ground, not to mention, the towns and villages the Norman army plowed through on their march to London. “But despite their faults, I think Alexandre and his comrades are honorable. I do not think William would have knowingly sent untrustworthy men here,” she said slowly, uncomfortable with the need to defend their Norman visitors.

Anger tightening his mouth, Kendrick turned away.

“God’s truth.” She placed a hand on his arm and tugged him back to face her. “Despite our misunderstandings.”

Kendrick eyed her carefully. “What do you think your father will do when he comes?”

Isabel blinked and turned back to the fire. “I know not.”

Her father would have pledged his loyalty to William, she had no doubt. However, as to Alexandre’s dealings with members of the Dumont household, she did not know how her father would have handled the situation. Not for the first time, she wished she had his guidance.

Kendrick shifted his feet beside her. “I hope he will put Alexandre in his place. He has taken too much of an interest in you.”

“What do you mean?” She hoped the question kindled Kendrick’s dislike of the Norman and distracted him from asking any more uncomfortable questions about her father.

“I heard him speaking with Matilde about you. He wanted to know why you had not married. What your mother was like.”

Isabel clenched her jaw. “Matilde should know when to hold her tongue. I will speak to her.”

Kendrick gave a short chuckle devoid of humor. “Alexandre is quite the charmer, I guess.”

“I do not understand why he would care about such things.”

“Do you not? He is not just here to escort your family to London. He is too interested in you and in Ashdown, for that matter.”

She waved him off. “I am sure he is only trying to discover new ways to annoy me.”

“Isabel, I am serious. I think he wants to win your affections.”

“Ridiculous. I cannot stand the man,” she said loftily.

“Surely you are not blind to the way he looks at you.”

She frowned at the unfamiliar intensity of his words. “You cannot mean it. Even if Alexandre is interested, he is naught more than William’s messenger. As a thane’s daughter, I could do much better.” She shook her head. “No, I’m certain William has already lined up a man of equal station to marry me when I reach London.”

“Are you certain that will happen?” He took a step toward her. “Are you certain that is what you want?”

“Surely not!” Anger and helplessness at her situation rose, suffocating in its intensity. “But I must comply with whatever William asks of me. Ashdown will suffer if I do not.”

Kendrick opened his mouth to argue, but she waved him off. She could not bear to discuss her future any longer. Nor could she idly stand by when she could be doing something to protect her people. While she still had the chance.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She turned back to him and smiled. “I cannot fight the Welsh in this,” she said, pointing to her dress, “now can I?”

* * * *

Convincing Kendrick was easy enough. Finding the trail the soldiers had taken was child’s play, as it was clearly marked in the lingering snow. They made good time and came across the men waiting in a small clearing as the mid-afternoon sun beat down.

At her signal, she and Kendrick dismounted. Now that she was here, there was no going back, but she found herself wanting to delay her inevitable confrontation with Alexandre. From behind a tree, she peered into the clearing. Most of the men had dismounted to rest their horses before the fighting, and they were now making last minute adjustments to their armor or polishing their weapons. Cuthbert and one of the Normans had gone missing, probably to scout out the location of the Welsh forces to the northwest.

When she turned back, Kendrick was surprisingly close, his eyes on her, not the men in the clearing. He had been abnormally quiet during the ride, and now a surprisingly severe look marred his face.

“What is wrong?”

Kendrick grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Isabel, you know the men would protect you, even if you went against William’s wishes. Or Alexandre’s.”

This again? Did he not understand her position? She gave him a sad smile. “I am grateful for their loyalty, but it is too much to ask of them.”

“The offer still stands. None of us want you to suffer.”

“I am sorry, Kendrick, but it is too late. For all of us.” The England they knew was changing, and they could do naught to stop it.

He shook his head. “I refuse to believe it. Could you not join a convent and gain sanctuary?”

“Not now, not with Alexandre here.”

She had contemplated flinging herself upon the mercy of the church, hoping she would be allowed to join a convent and thereby save her respectability and her lands as much as possible. The church would own the land but she might be able to retain the management of it. Yet, something held her back. She still clung to the small hope William could be reasoned with, he would see the qualities her father had cultivated in her, and he would understand her need to choose her future.

She swiped a hand over her forehead. “This is not something I can run away from.”

“What if you were already married? Surely that would prevent William from giving you to another.”

“And who would that be? You know very well how many suitors I have chased away.”

Instead of agreeing with her, Kendrick stood straighter, his gaze never leaving her face. “I could do it. I could protect you. Then when your father comes—”

“No, Kendrick. It would not be fair to you.”

“Why not? I would gladly do that and more for you.”

Isabel realized how close he stood, saw the genuine fear and love shining in his eyes. How had she not known? How could she have been so blind of his love for her?

She blinked. “Kendrick…”

“Foolish girl!” The deep timbre of Alexandre’s voice snapped Isabel out of the staring match with Kendrick. She turned to find Captain Thomas and Alexandre standing not three feet away. She pulled her hands out of Kendrick’s grasp and took a step back from all three men.

The Norman stalked toward her, his face a stony mask. “Explain yourself.”

* * * *

Isabel rested her hand on the pommel of her sword and did not flinch when she met Alex’s gaze. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid beneath the hood of her cloak. She had slung a quiver of arrows and an ornate yew bow over her shoulder. Much like the first time he set eyes on her, she wore a padded tunic over her dress. She had come to fight.

“I am needed here,” she said in clipped tones.

How dare she! She had disregarded his orders and now flaunted her bad behavior in front of the men—hers and his. Alex would not stand for any more of her impertinence. Even if it meant hauling her over his shoulder and dragging her back to the castle.

Alex took a step after her. Captain Thomas whipped out a hand and held him back. “Alexandre, a word.”

She sauntered past him and joined a knot of her men, many of whom smiled in welcome as if this was all great fun. Kendrick followed, a dark look on his face, leading both their mounts.

Alex growled but stayed put. “I should have chained her up.”

Captain Thomas inclined his head and did not disagree. “You must understand. Isabel feels her responsibilities most acutely.”

Alex watched her across the clearing as she joked with her men, keeping their morale high even in the face of battle. He met Captain Thomas’s questioning face. “They would do anything for her.”

Captain Thomas looked at Isabel, who was laughing at a comment one of the soldiers made, and then turned to Alex. “Yes, but would not all of us?”

“Yet it seems Kendrick in particular has fallen for her charms.” The boy stayed close to her, reverence and desperation at war on his face whenever he looked at her.

Captain Thomas raised his graying eyebrows. “You see much. Isabel herself does not know the lad is in love with her. But Isabel can be blind to what is in front of her, wouldn’t you say?”

Alex did not like the intelligence in the old man’s gaze. He only shook his head. “She is unlike any woman I have ever met.”

“That I do not doubt,” Captain Thomas said with a chuckle. “But given how close we are to the Welsh border, it is good she is able to defend herself. She has more heart than some of my men.”

Despite not knowing the Englishman well, the rebuke in his words was clear. Alex opened his mouth to reply, but closed it at the sound of someone crashing through the brush.

Jerome and a young English scout burst through the trees. “They’re coming.”

* * * *

Isabel lined up another shot and let go before she allowed herself to exhale. The arrow buried itself into the back of a Welshman trading blows with Godric.

The Welsh had stumbled into the clearing, stunned to find so many armored soldiers saddled and ready for them. The fiends often relied on surprise to fuel their attacks, but it would not work this time.

Their leader gave up a cry, and the Welshmen ripped their swords from their scabbards and charged. They scattered when they hit the line of English and Norman soldiers like waves against a rocky coast. Alexandre ordered the men forward, and the battle began.

Isabel knew her shoulder could not handle wielding a sword and fighting on horseback, so she stayed back with her bow and her arrows, taking shots when she could. Kendrick stayed as close to her as he dared, protecting her from any Welsh fighters who managed to break through the line of men on horseback. They had learned their lesson from the previous skirmish.

Alexandre suddenly reined his horse to a stop beside her. He had been fighting on the other side of the clearing only moments ago, before she lost sight of him in the chaos.

The weight of his gaze settled over her as she lined up another target. Easy now. She released the arrow and could not quite hold back the quirk of her lips when it hit a Welshman’s shoulder. An eye for an eye.

Alexandre grunted. “Perhaps you are not so helpless after all.”

She bared her teeth at him. “Be glad I have not turned my sights on you.”

He laughed, a full and throaty sound, at odds with the groans and shouts of the other men. “Oh, I am. But that does not mean I am pleased to have you here.”

She reached for another arrow. “I am just doing my duty.”

A Welshman bellowed and launched himself toward them. He must have broken through the line. Kendrick was too far away to help, locked in battle with another opponent.

Isabel cursed and scrambled to nock her arrow. Before she raised her bow, Alexandre’s mount squealed as his heels dug into the animal’s flanks. The beast reared in front of her, protecting her from the brunt of the Welshman’s charge. Alexandre swung his sword down, breaking through bone, as the animal returned to all fours.

Her heart lurched against her chest as she sucked in air. So close…

Alexandre looked down at her through his nose guard, his eyes dark with an emotion she could not identify. “Be safe. I still have words for you.” He spurred his horse into a group of Welshmen, his sword an arc of fire in the afternoon light.

She wrenched her attention away from the man and readied another arrow, then let it fly. It glanced off a Welshman’s chest plate and distracted him long enough one of Alexandre’s men struck him down once and for all. The Norman gave her a nod in thanks before moving on to the next opponent.

By now her breath echoed harshly in her ears, and handling her bow had left her fingers numb. Many Welsh had fallen. Their leader called for a retreat, but most of the survivors were struck down before they managed to turn back the way they had come. Such a difference from the first battle.

Captain Thomas instructed Alexandre to call off his men. The few Welshmen who remained were not worth chasing down. They would slink back across the border and lick their wounds, telling tales of the battle. Tales that would make them think twice before venturing into the Dumont lands again.

Yet it was not a complete victory. Isabel hurried to two of her men curled up on the ground. She crushed some yarrow leaves she had stowed in her saddlebags and bandaged the sword wounds the best she could—enough for them to travel back to the castle to receive more skilled care. Alexandre and Captain Thomas discussed the disposal of the bodies while Martin and Godric gathered up discarded blades and arrows. One of Alexandre’s men clutched his upper arm, a nasty gash from a broad sword bleeding through his fingers. She dressed his wound and ensured the rest of the soldiers’ bruises and busted knuckles could wait until they returned to the castle.

When she could do no more, she mounted and slowly rotated her arm. She had put more stress on her injury than she expected, but at least it had not reopened again.

Alexandre rode toward her with a serious look, so different from his mirth before. A wave of unease flowed through her when he stopped beside her.

He turned to address the other men. “I will escort Lady Isabel back to the castle. Return as soon as you have finished here.” Before Isabel could protest, he had seized Hardwin’s reins and led them away at a gallop.

Cursing, she clung to the pommel of her saddle for balance as Alexandre dragged them through the woods. She pitched forward to avoid the sweep of branches on either side and pressed her face into her horse’s neck. What did the man hope to accomplish? She finally managed to snatch the reins back from him, but not before they were well away from the others.

She pulled her horse to an abrupt stop. “I did not realize you liked to be so dramatic. But if you ever perform such a stunt like that in front of my men again, I will kill you.”

She dismounted and inspected Hardwin for scrapes from the trail. What a careless, unthinking man.

He only laughed. “My lady, you are the one who likes to make a spectacle. You are the one so fond of disobeying orders. I think it is time someone put you in your place,” he said in a serious tone. He dismounted and strapped his helmet to his saddle.

“I thought we would return to the castle.” She threw a look over her shoulder. He took a position right behind her.

“We will, but there are things we need to discuss first.”

She finished running her hands down each of the horse’s legs and then straightened. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I would say some things to you, Isabel. You disobeyed me. I cannot ignore that.”

She spun toward him. “I told you I would not send my men to fight a foe I am unwilling to face myself.”

“And I told you I would face the Welsh in your stead. You may not have a care for your safety, but you are my responsibility until I take you to London.” He loomed over her. “I have thought on the best way to rein in your recklessness.” His mouth firmed into a hard line. “Somehow I doubt a flogging will make you respect me.”

She shied away from him. The dark look in his eyes was back. “Alexandre…”

“Call me Alex.” Her eyes locked on his mouth as he leaned toward her. His words drifted across her lips. “Non, I think there is just one solution.”

Her breath halted in her chest. “I think it is time we return.” She tried to push past him but he would not move out of her way.

He took hold of her arms and held her still. A muscle worked in his jaw. “That would be prudent.” She stared up at him, transfixed by the way his mouth shaped the words. “But I have not known you to be prudent.”

Before she could think to protest, he bent down and claimed her lips with his. Isabel went rigid, too surprised to respond. Then he pulled away, an unknown look glittering in his eyes. He fingered the hair that had fallen out of her braid.

She should say something to stop what was going on, to stop the confusion coiled up inside her. The words of refusal formed on her lips, but he just watched her, as if he were trying to tell her something with just a look. He moved his warm hand to her face, caressing her cheek. She trembled.

The scent of man and cold snow clouded her mind. A good maiden would slap Alexandre for such boldness, but she could not muster the willpower to push him away. She could not pretend she did not want this.

She let her words fall away.

Alexandre lowered his head and warmed her lips with another kiss. He cupped her face, angling it against his just right. Moving his other hand to her waist, he pulled her hard against him as she reached up and twined her fingers in his long, thick hair. Overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her, she clung to him. She gave herself up fully, and trailed her hands down, fisting them in the folds of his cloak.

With a groan, he kissed her lips apart. As he slipped his tongue into her mouth, more heat charged through her body. She was lost in his taste, so different from hers, but desired it—him—all the same.

He abruptly broke away from her, and pressed his face into her neck, his nose cold against her skin. His ragged breaths floated between them as he moved back and stared down at her. He smoothed her hair away from her face. The dark, piercing look in his eyes made her guts churn. The tenderness was still there, but the want was more visible.

She was not a naive little girl. She knew what a man wanted from a woman. He leaned toward her again, but this time she managed to pull away.

She remounted with forced calm. Kendrick had been right about Alexandre, and the thought brought a fresh rush of guilt. She took a few deep breaths to quell the unease that had immediately taken the place of the warmth she felt in Alexandre’s arms moments before. Of all the things that could happen, this was the worst. How could she let him kiss her? Why had she given in? She wanted to think this did not change anything but could not convince herself.

Alexandre got back on his horse but his eyes were still on her. The hunter in him was back, his dark hair tousled, his eyes sparked with hunger, his lips surprisingly red. She touched her own and found them swollen.

“My lady…”

She hated the fact she was trembling. “It is already as if it did not happen.” Her life was complicated enough without this added predicament.

“But Isabel, it does not have to be—”

“I will not debate this with you.”