Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (26 page)

Oh,
God! He hadn’t made it in time.
Kent must not have been recognized when he landed in port
.

Michael swiped his hand over
his face and took a heavy seat in a small wooden chair, his muscles aching and burning from the ride.

“Tell me all, Abbott
Hunsden
. There is no need to sweeten your words.”

The Abbott nodded, and wrung his hands together, his fingers dancing over his rosary. Shadows from the single candle flickered wildly over the man’s face as he paced beside it. “It appears the man you left, Jon, was not who he appeared to be.
Bitten the apple of the viper so to speak.
He attacked our poor lady.
Roughly abused her.
To what end I am not certain, but her dress was torn and her face bruised.”

Michael jumped to his feet, his muscles rigid and rage streamed from every pore. “What?” he bellowed. “You lie!”

“No, sir, no.”
The Abbott shook his head wildly, eyes wide with fright. He held out his hands, shaking them back and forth as if to ward off Michael’s anger. “Her own brother found him in the midst of his attempt and was able to subdue the man and save her ladyship.”

“Her brother?”

“Aye, Lord Richard. He came to wish his sister well on his way to Ireland from France.”

“Where are they now?” Michael had to see her, had to hold her. Had to beg her forgiveness since he’d promised she would be safe here and how wrong he had been! What a bitter disappointment he had turned out to be. She would surely never forgive him.

“They are no longer at the abbey, sir.”

“No longer here?
Why? Where have they gone?”

“Her brother has taken her back to Ireland, where he can watch over her, protect her.”

Instant relief washed over him, so poignant he actually felt weightless for moment, but then sadness ripped through him. Would he see her again? Would she even agree to see him?

He frowned. Of course he would. And she would, wouldn’t she? They had something special, a deep love…did they not? He would leave for Ireland at first light.

“Did she leave a missive for me? Or did her brother leave one for Kent?”

Abbott
Hunsden
pursed his lips and shook his head.
“None that I know of.”

“When did they leave? When did all of this take place?”

“Nigh on three weeks ago.”

“Where is the traitor—Jon?” He wanted to run him through.

Hunsden
crossed himself. “He is no longer among the living.”

“Lord Richard?”

“Aye.”

Michael would have to be satisfied with that. At least the traitor was
dead,
else he’d travel the earth to beat him into a bloody pulp for having harmed Elena.
And how stupid and feeble-minded he felt for having been duped by the bastard.
For months and months! He’d taken Jon in when he had no one else. He’d trained him, kept him close, bet his life on the bastard! And the moment he turned his back, the moment he left him in charge of what he considered more precious than his own life—his love—the maggot had jumped at the chance to hurt her.

Oh, God, what she must have gone through…

His only solace was that Jon had a broken leg, and most likely she gave him a hell of a fight. He hoped he’d died a painful
death,
else he’d seek out his remains and run him through again for good measure.

“Perhaps you should seek confession?” the Abbott said, looking at him expectantly.

Michael realized he must have had a devil of a look on his face. After all the fighting in France, and the murderous, blasphemous thoughts running through his mind, he agreed a confession was in order.

He knelt before
Hunsden
, and made the sign of the cross over his chest. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…and I will most likely sin again.”

Abbott
Hunsden’s
lips twitched slightly, but other than that, he showed no amusement. They went through the confession, and then the Abbott absolved Michael of his sins informing him he would have to fast for the rest of the day as penance. That wouldn’t be a problem, considering he had no appetite at all after what he’d arrived to find.

He left the Abbott’s house and walked back out into the courtyard, intent on wiping his horse down and giving him an extra treat for the suffering he’d put the animal through. Then he’d see if any of his men wanted to practice. He’d already given them the rest of the day off to rest, but surely there would be a one he could rival just to get the pent up energy and anger out of himself.

He needed to find Colin and Fletch, tell them what he’d learned as well. When he arrived in the stables, both his men were there.

“We heard the news, figured you’d be coming here to calm yourself before you asked one of us to volunteer as your
quintain
—and the answer is no, neither of us really want to be brutalized today,” Colin said with a smirk.

Michael grunted, and faked a punch in his loyal companion’s direction.

“Tell it to us straight, Michael. What will we do now?” Fletch said, his eyes drilling into Michael’s gaze.

“You’ve heard it all?” Michael searched out the stables, but saw no one close enough to overhear their conversation.

“Aye.
Never knew the bastard was against us.” Colin shook his head, anger flashing on his features.

“Neither did I. Feel like a damned fool. I shared everything with that whoreson!” Fletch was even angrier, and with good reason.

“We were all deceived, but we cannot dwell on it. He is gone now, and we can only look to the future, make reparations with the living.”

“And go after the lady?”

“Report Kent’s crimes to the King?”

Both his men spoke at the same time.

Michael nodded. “Indeed, both of those things are what I have planned.”

Michael left his men with instructions on preparing for their departure and then headed to find Abbott
Hunsden
again.

The Abbott found him instead. “Sir, I know you will plan to leave. I feel it is my duty to remind you of your station.”

Michael tried not to laugh at the man who wrung his hands like a nervous maiden.
“My station?”

“You are in servitude to Lord Kent.” The man of God looked from side to side and not at Michael.

“Are you afraid he will come after the abbey?”

“He is not known to be a man of God, Captain Devereux.”

“I was on my way to see you about leaving a missive, but instead I shall give it to you to relay as you see fit. Tell my Lord Kent when he arrives that I have gone to retrieve his wife who has unlawfully left the country. That should give him solace. Mention nothing of the attack or her brother.”

The Abbott nodded, relief sagging his shoulders.

“But I will have you know, I am also sending a missive to the King. You shall not have to deal with Kent and his violent ways much longer.”

“I should think that a good thing. You see, many of his victims have sought solace with us before. Lady Elena would not have had to give us so many supplies or the use of her servants, we would have welcomed her with open arms.”

“She would have done it anyway. She has a sweet and giving nature. She is pious and deserves better than the life that has been forced upon her.”

“And you would see it made right.”

“
Aye
, Father.”

“Go with God, my son.”

Michael bowed to kiss Abbott
Hunsden’s
ring, and then left to find the rest of his men. They needed to know what he was about. He needed to know now, who was with him and who was against him.

The following morning, the abbey gates opened and a flustered Arthur rushed through. “Captain!” he shouted, running until he was within inches of Michael. His face was twisted in series of conflicting emotions: fear, triumph, nervousness.

The boy had not traveled with them, but Kent’s men. Which meant Kent was back in England and on his way here.

“What are you doing here?” Michael glanced at the gates as they were closed tight, no one else entered.

“I came as soon as I could get away. A man met Kent at the port, we have only just arrived in England, but I listened to what he said. I know you have no need to trust me, but you must hear me.” The boy panted from his rushed speech and from having raced all the way to the abbey for hours.

Doubt filled Michael’s mind. Already so many had worked against him. Who could he trust? He gazed deep into
Arthur’s eyes, trying to assess what he saw there. There was no deception. “Arthur, you have come this far, you have pledged to me before. I will trust what you have to say.”

“The man told Kent what transpired here. His lordship has sent the man to Ireland.” Arthur swallowed hard.
“To kill her.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
here was something about Ireland that made it entirely different from England. Elena didn’t realize how much she missed her homeland until she stepped foot off the rowboat that had taken them from the moored ship. She took a d
eep breath of crisp, earthy air, smelling the
fresh grass
and
peat
—
liberty. Instantly she could breathe easier, despite the chill. The temperature had dropped tremendously, being so late in fall with cool breezes drifting off the water. She tucked her cloak closer to her body—still achy from her attack at the abbey.

Her ladies filed behind her—even Beth, who had a bandage on her head where Jon’s crutch had wounded her. Elena was elated Beth lived; she’d sincerely thought Beth had died. When Richard told her she was merely unconscious, Elena sent up prayers to Heaven and promised a large tithe to St. Augustine’s Abbey. Her women exclaimed on the beauty of the countryside. The leaves had turned glorious shades of red, yellow and orange.

“Welcome home,” Richard said, offering her a wide smile.

“Thank you for bringing me.” She
smiled sadly, wishing she’d returned under different circumstances
. They were a pair. He was coming home to emptiness when he had left behind a family, and she was coming home as an escape from an abusive husband. Most likely her father would not take her back into his household. She did not know what she would do, and could not think on it now. Not yet. For now she wanted to bask in the connection she felt with the land.

She held her hand against her stomach and closed her eyes against a sudden dizziness. The
ground
felt like it was
shift
ing
and sway
ing
beneath her booted feet. She was
suddenly thirsty and could not remember the last time she’d eaten. “’Tis hard to come off a boat, I fear I have sea legs.”

“Should you like to sit?” Her brother held her arm gently, gazing at her with concern. He’d treated her, since rescuing her from Jon, as if she were a delicate piece of porcelain and that she would break with the slightest of breezes.

She breathed in deeply and shook her head, hoping to reassure her brother. “No, I will be fine.”

“Humph,” came from behind her.

Elena turned around to see
Raelyn
narrowing her eyes, assessing her.

“Is something wrong?” Elena asked, uncertain why her lady’s maid would suddenly be so sour.

“’Tis nothing, my lady.
But we had best get you to where we need to go.”

“Indeed,” Richard responded.

He ushered the ladies and the rest of his party toward the awaiting horses. The ride to
Enniscorthy
was short, and by the time they reached the castle, Elena was famished, exhausted, and the tip of her nose felt as though it might fall off from the cold.

But she was on full alert and her hunger vanished when her father graced the top of the stairs leading into the castle. He was still the same fearsome fig
ure she remembered, and the
years she’d been gone did little to age him.

“Welcome back, Richard,” he said, stepping down to slap his son on the back. The two men exchanged pained glances, as their father told him without words how sorry he was that he should come home to an empty house. He peered past Richard toward Elena, question written on his features.

“Daughter.
Why have you come?”

Elena stepped forward and opened her mouth to answer, but Richard spoke first. “I encountered her at St. Augustine’s Abbey on my way home. She was being beaten
by a man left behind to protect her.”

“Who?” their father demanded, his eyes
narrowed,
his voice loud and booming.

“A man of little consequence and he is dead now.”

“He should be,” the older man bellowed. He stepped forward and stroked her cheek. “I can see the bruises are fresh.”

“Aye.”
Elena didn’t know what else to say. She had not expected to ever see her father again, not after he’d left her to her fate.

“But, why have you brought her here, Richard? Why not leave her at the abbey if the man is dead?” Their father turned away from her to face Richard.
“Why not to her husband?”

Richard narrowed his eyes. “She is not safe with her husband.”

Baron McCullough narrowed his eyes.
“’Tis not for you to say, my son.
She must return to her husband.”

Richard’s frown matched their father’s. “I won’t send her back to the very depths of hell. I have seen what this man can do.”

“No, you have seen what a dead man can do, not what her husband has done. A wife’s place is beside her husband.”

Elena’s heart sank. Her father would not protect her. With pleading eyes, she gazed at her brother. After her time away from
Kent
, she realized that she
d
eserved
and wanted
happiness. She would run away to the wilderness of Ireland, never to see another human soul, rather than return to Kent. But was that really true? Could she live the rest of her life without seeing Michael? She missed him so much already. Even if she did run away, her ladies would not let her go, and she would not leave them to an uncertain fate.

“I cannot let her return, Father. In most cases, I would agree with you, but not this time. She is my blood, I won’t have her harmed.”

Their father snarled and backed away from them, looking from Elena to Richard. “My own children would side against me?” His voice was quiet, angry when he spoke.

“No, Father.” Elena stepped forward. “I would do what you ask, but please just let me stay for a little while…to recover.” She folded her hands in front of her and hoped she looked meek.

Her father started to nod his acceptance when Richard spoke loudly.

“No. I will not have you recover only to send you back for another beating. You will stay.”

At this, the old man turned red in the face and blustered. “So you
would
side against me! I won’t have it, not at my own castle. Be gone with you!” he bellowed.

“Wait, Father!” Elena pleaded.

“You have no haven here, and you are no longer a daughter of mine.” He turned his back and continued up the stairs and into his castle, the large oak doors—doors she remembered running in and out of as a child—slammed shut, barring them from entering.

Her knees felt weak. She would collapse if it weren’t for her need to stay strong in front of the crowd
that had
gathered. She turned on her brother.

“What are you thinking, Richard?” she
said through clenched teeth
.

“He would send you back, I sought to protect you.”

Bitterness swept through her. “Just as you sought to protect me for the last several years when I begged for your help?”

“I am a fool, Elena, what more can I say? At least now I have done what I should have done long ago.”

She nodded dejectedly. “You are right. Forgive me. I am tired.”

“All is forgiven, sister. Let us go before it gets dark. My keep is a good three hours ride from here.”

On weary, shaking legs, Elena climbed atop a horse, and led the animal from her childhood home. She supposed she would never speak to her father again, not if he had a decision in it. Would he send word to Kent telling him of her whereabouts? Was she truly safe in Ireland or had she landed here only to be handed back to her husband?

Oh, Michael.
Where was he? Was he still in France? She closed her eyes for a few brief moments, praying for his safety. The rocking gait of the horse and the warmth of his flesh beneath her lulled her into sleep. She woke suddenly as her body started to slide out of the saddle.

“My lady!”
Raelyn
shouted.

Instantly several men were at her side, helping to right her. She shook with fear at having nearly fallen. She would have been trampled for certes.

Raelyn
handed her an apple. “Eat this, my lady. You have hardly eaten a thing in days. You need your strength. We have hours yet to ride before you can rest.”

Elena nodded and took the offered fruit, biting into the crisp skin, apple juice dribbling down her
throat
. She’d never tasted anything so good. It was so sweet and succulent and quenched her thirst. She was suddenly ravenous! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything
so succulent
. When she finished the apple,
Raelyn
thrust a crust of bread into her hands.

“Eat this, my lady.”
Raelyn
leaned in close. “I know you are with child.”

What?
Elena
opened her mouth to argue then shut it again.
Her eyes widened. She was with child?
No.
Impossible.
She’d just had her monthly—

Oh, dear God. It had been at
least two months maybe three or four, she could not recall.
A babe
explained a lot of things. Her mood swings, nausea, dizziness, and her increased hunger.

“All right,” she
whispered,
not only accepting
Raelyn’s
words, but truly letting the realization sink in. She could not return to England now. Not ever. The child was not Kent’s. Oh, dear God, she was having Michael’s babe! He didn’t even know, and there was no way she could tell him. She glanced at her brother. Would he protect her now, if he knew she was having a man’s child who was not her husband?

She swallowed hard. She couldn’t tell him.

“I shan’t say a word, my lady
. N
ow eat.”
Raelyn’s
words consoled her.

Her stomach growled loudly, and Elena needn’t bother waiting any longer to eat. She wolfed down the bread, only to be given a hunk of cheese. When she finished her meal, she felt much better. She wasn’t dizzy, and even felt a bit more awake.

She glanced out over the landscape, taking in the beauty of the land. Rolling green hills, white specks of sheep scattered across the expanse, and people here and there working the land. A mist wetted the air, and a very slight breeze blew. She looked up at the sky and breathed deep.
Home.
She’d never felt such a connection to the land in England. She was being given another chance at life.
A chance to raise her child in these peaceful surroundings.

She could not dwell on her father
’s rejection
, for truly she had known that would happen all along. He had told her in his letters he would never accept her back into his
home, that
she would have to do her duty as a wife and suffer in silence. Why did she have hope he would change? At least her brother had turned a corner. She could be useful to him as well. Without his wife, he would need someone to take charge of his household, and Elena was plenty willing to be that person until he wed again. It would keep her mind off things.

Her shoulders started to relax, and a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time settled over her. Relief, it was joyous, and cleansing. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder while in her brother’s home—not unless he got a message, or he had
guests. But how often did he have guests? Not often, she surmised. Besides, he would be busy reacquainting himself with his land and people. She could allow herself a short bit of reprieve, just enjoy being alive, and away from Kent, back in her native homeland.

*****

After several weeks, Elena started to feel more like
herself
again. Her morning sick
ness
ebbed, and she was no longer so exhausted. She also felt safe. Not one word had come from England.
Perhaps
Kent had not yet returned from France to find her gone. It was too much to hope that he would simply let her go.

Elena stood from the table in the great hall and excused herself from the evening meal. She wanted to be alone in her room. The quietness of the evenings was when she thought about Michael and all they’d shared. She liked to sit alone and stare at the stars thinking that he might also be looking into the sky, thinking about her. If she never saw him again, at least she had those precious moments to reminisce in.

She discreetly pressed her hand to her small rounded belly.
Raelyn
and she together guessed she must be around three or four months along. Luckily the fashion decreed gowns that flowed, or else her brother and anyone else looking, would have been able to make out the discernible apple bump in her abdomen. She was most certainly with child.

What would their child be like? Would Michael ever get to meet him or her?

Where was he now? She wished she’d had time to leave him some sort of message at St. Augustine’s. For when he returned from France, he would no doubt go there first as he’d
promised,
and she would not be there. What would he think? Would he think she’d deserted him? She shook her head at such a silly notion. He couldn’t possibly; t
he Abbot would tell him what
transpired.