After the Storm (22 page)

"No one went with her? No one followed to see to her safety?" Rolf struck the servant.

Reynard stepped in front of Rolf. "Keep your hands off Lady Isabeau's people.

Let me deal with this. You," he pointed at one of his watching men. "See if Lady Isabeau is keeping vigil in the church."

While they waited for the soldier to return from the church Marj washed her face, had a cup of ale to clear the horrid taste from her mouth and made a thorough check of Libby's tower room. Many of Libby's things were missing, and the restless dogs she'd left behind had torn up much of the rest. The dogs loped down the stairs in front of Marj when she went back outside. The swift, sleek animals headed out the gate while she went to join the others in the pavilion.

Reynard was in the center of the pavilion, watching the others with his arms crossed, a faint smile half hidden by his mustache. Rolf and Henry were pacing, Matilda was sitting on a bench, wringing her hands nervously, Father John was bent over, his head resting in his hands. It pleased her to see that the trouble-making cleric was still miserable from being drugged. He shouldn't have drunk so much, she thought as she came to stand next to Reynard.

"Any news?" she asked the sheriff.

"Lady Isabeau was not at the church."

"The outlaw has her," Rolf declared.

"We have no proof of that," Reynard said.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"He carried her off, I'm certain of it. Carried her off to ravish her to spite me."

If she doesn't ravish him first
, Marj thought. "There is no need to make such a frightening assumption," she told the men. "Perhaps she's visiting the sick, or some other necessary task. She could be home any moment."

"There is a fever in one of the nearby villages," Matilda offered helpfully.

"Someone might have—"

"Abducted her," Rolf interrupted loudly. "The filthy churl's probably raping her while we wring our hands and talk. The poor girl was snatched from the church while praying for my recovery. I have to save her."

Henry stepped in front of Rolf. The young man had his hand on his sword and fire in his eyes. "Go back where you came from, Gesthowe. I'll save her," he declared.

Rolf gave the younger man a fierce glare. "The woman's mine, pup. Go home before I take your head off."

"She is kindred to my family, or may as well be," Henry answered. "My parents and hers have sworn mighty oaths of friendship. It is my duty to defend her honor."

"You want to bed her, you mean," Rolf told Henry. "She's mine, do you hear?"

Henry's face went bright red, but Matilda spoke up before he could answer.

"Yes, Henry, she is."

Henry swung around to face his betrothed. "What?"

Matilda flinched, but she stood her ground. She looked Henry in the eye, tears brimmed in her own, but she didn't cry. She said, "You are my betrothed. Leave lsabeau to Rolf and take me home to be your woman."

Henry's head darted forward as he looked Matilda up and down. He acted as Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

though he'd never seen her before. "What?"

She lifted her chin proudly. "Take me home," she said to him. "Marry me."

He pointed at her. "Matilda? Is that you?"

"Of course it is. We've been betrothed for ten years, Henry DuVrai, it's time we made good on our parents' promises to one another. Honor demands it, does it not?" He gave a slow, thoughtful, nod. "You want someone who will care for you, do you not?" He nodded again. "Someone to warm your bed and give you sons? I can do all those things."

"But—you cry."

"I'm not crying now. You have to promise not to make me cry anymore. No true and chivalrous knight makes a lady cry."

Henry hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"I know you will be kind and loving to your own good and obedient wife." Her voice took on a sultry promise Marj hadn't believed the girl was capable of. "I'm very obedient, my lord." She stepped close to him. "As I'll gladly show you."

Henry gulped. "I—see." He brightened. "You will?"

"You want a wife, well, here I am." She held out her hand to Henry, and gave him a seductive smile. "I will make you a good wife, my lord."

"I—uh—Yes, Matilda." Henry took her by the hand. He looked as stunned as if he'd been hit over the head as she led him away from the pavilion.

Reynard chuckled. "Well, that's one rescuer taken care of." He walked up to Rolf.

He towered over the thickset man, Marj realized. It was like watching a wolfhound next to a bulldog. Both dogs were tough, but she didn't have any doubt which one would win a confrontation.

"We don't know Lady Isabeau's in any danger," Reynard informed Rolf, "but I'll Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

have a look around the countryside to see if I can find her."

"She belongs to me," Rolf answered belligerently.

"That she does." Reynard agreed, "and you're welcome to her. That's not what I said. I said I'd find her for you."

"You?" Rolf sneered. "I—"

"You don't know the area," Reynard pointed out. "I do. You're not properly armed. It's not your duty."

"She's my—"

"Me sheriff." Reynard pointed at Rolf and spoke very slowly. "You wait here. I go into forest. Come back with woman for you. My job. Me sheriff," he repeated slowly. "Bring this man ale," Reynard added to a servant. "Lots of ale."

Rolf looked unhappy at the sheriff's words, but he did accept a large cup and drank down the contents quickly. After he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, he gave Reynard a grudging nod. "Do your job, man. And bring back the bastard alive." He gave an ugly laugh.

Marj tried not to listen to the things he threatened to do to Bastien once he had the outlaw in his power.

She followed Reynard out of the pavilion. "Do you think Rolf will stay here while you search for my lady?"

"For a while, perhaps," Reynard answered. "He'll get drunk, and then he'll get restless, but we've bought some time. There'll be hell to pay in the local villages if he decides to hunt for her himself."

"Then we'd better find her quickly," Marj told him.

He nodded. "Let's get to the horses and get out of here."

They were riding through Lilydrake village before it occurred to her that Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Reynard hadn't disputed her going with him.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Chapter 12

Bastien woke before dawn
, but was too comfortable to move for a very long time. Isabeau's head was on his chest, soft strands of her hair blanketed his shoulder and brushed his cheek. She was lying more than half on top of him and his arms were around her, holding her in place. Their embracing each other felt right, smelled right, warm and intimate and comfortable. Her presence had brought no nightmares, he realized, but instead the kind of peaceful sleep he hadn't known for months.

The birds were beginning to sing when Isabeau lifted her head and looked at him. Their gazes met in the faint, pre-dawn light that filtered in through the doorway. Her eyes were dark, dark brown, their expression solemn and still a bit sleep-drugged. Her hair was as dark as her eyes, darker, nearly black, a fine frame for her strong, beautiful features. He found himself wanting to trace the stubborn line of her jaw, the slightly cleft chin, the delicate curve of cheek. He found himself wanting to wake up with her sprawled across his chest for a thousand mornings, and maybe a thousand or two after that. He had no idea why that should be so, only that she made him feel as if he wasn't alone anymore. He couldn't quite remember the foolish reasons he'd made off into the forest with the Lady of Lilydrake when just being with her seemed like reason enough. Maybe that was all the reason he'd really needed.

He hadn't known he'd been holding his breath until he let it out in a long, slow Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

sigh. "I'm dreaming," he said aloud. "I must be. I can't be. My dreams are never the happy kind."

"Neither are mine."

Her voice was so low he barely heard her words, but it didn't seem like he had to hear her to know her meaning. They were linked, somehow, for now, in the dawn of an early summer day in a hut no one wanted in a land neither of them called home.

His gaze slid away from hers. He couldn't say the thoughts that came to him while he looked into her eyes. "Am I—in your dreams sometimes?" When she didn't answer him for a long time he made himself look back.

"Yes," she answered when their gazes met. "When I dream," she went on, "I try to find someone I think I loved. But I can't see past you."

He held his breath as something hard loosened from around his heart. The pain was the only armor he had and he didn't want it to go away, but he couldn't keep from asking, "In your dreams do you love me?" Maybe she would say no and he could keep on hating her.

Instead she closed her eyes, turned her head so that he saw only her fine-etched profile and answered, "Yes. Sometimes. In my dre—memories—I have you scrambled up with someone else, I think."

"Someone you should know but don't remember." It wasn't a question, for he was certain that whatever madness had descended on him had engulfed her as well. He touched her hair, ran the back of his hand across the softness of her cheek. Her head moved beneath his touch like a cat being stroked by a gentle hand.

Daughter of the devil she might be, but it wasn't her fault. He didn't want to punish her. In fact, he suspected he'd been trying to rescue her since the first Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

moment he'd seen her. Rescue her from what? Wicked knights? Or lonely nights? Or was he looking for her to rescue him?

He was thinking too much, but his thoughts ended when she turned back toward him and settled her mouth against his. This time he didn't care that she was the one kissing him. He just accepted the sweet heat of the moment and the moment drew out until he was lost in it.

It ended with a sigh as she lifted her head. He didn't have to open his eyes to know she was crying. He could feel her tears on his face. "Bastien," she said, her voice full of uncertainty. This was madness, he could tell that she knew it as well. She sat up. When she was no longer touching him the world went cold.

Bastien moved to kneel beside her. There was nowhere for her to retreat in the tiny hut. She looked trapped, not by him but by her own demons. The look she gave him was one of entreaty. It told him how tired she was of always being in control of herself, of the sit-uation. It begged him to make the choice for them both. He moved closer, so that the heat of their bodies met and mingled though they didn't quite touch.

"There is no right or wrong here," he told her. "There is just us." He knew what she needed, so he held her face between his hands as they looked deeply into each other's eyes. "It is time," he said, "to let the madness rule." This time he did the kissing.

Libby put her arms around Bastien's hard, slender body and drew him to her. She clung to him fiercely as the kiss deepened. This was wrong, stupid, against the rules. She couldn't stop it and didn't want to. He was right. They couldn't not make love now if they tried. Let the madness rule, she agreed, and God help us both when this is over.