If Love Dares Enough (14 page)

The Bishop arched his brows. “Surely, Sir—er—” He glanced enquiringly at a clerk holding a ledger who whispered the name he sought. “—Sir Renouf, that’s a matter for the legal authorities?”

Renouf shook his head. “She’s been abducted by a Norman lord and taken to his castle in Normandie.”

Now the Bishop’s eyes were wide. “A Norman has stolen your wife? Who is this man?”

“Hugh de Montbryce, Your Excellency.”

The Bishop’s blood ran cold. He was only too cognizant of the power and influence at both the English and Norman courts of the Montbryce name. He would have to tread cautiously in this matter. “You’re certain of this? Why would he do such a thing?”

Renouf braced his legs and squared his shoulders, his hand seeking the hilt of his missing sword, deposited, as was required, in the antechamber. “They’re lovers. It’s adultery. I demand my rights as her husband.”

The Bishop forced back a smirk. “You want her back I take it?”

Renouf clenched his gloved fists. “
Oui
.”

“Did she go willingly?”

“She must have. I was absent—in Normandie.”

The Bishop leaned forward in his chair. “What were you doing there? Why did you not take her with you?”

The cleric sensed his petitioner’s reticence as Renouf said vaguely, “Visiting family.”

“Did your wife accompany you to England from Normandie when you first came?”

“
Non
. She’s a Saxon. We were wed in England—at Melton Manor.”

Now here’s a strange kettle of fish!

“Let me understand you, Sir Renouf. Your Saxon wife has run off to Normandie with a Norman baron?”

Renouf became increasingly agitated as the interview proceeded. There was definitely something the man wasn’t telling him. But what? The Montbryces were not a family to tangle with. On the other hand, if this man’s wife had indeed been abducted, it was the responsibility of the Church to see the sin punished. Having spent only brief minutes with Renouf he could understand any woman’s desire to flee as far as she could. But—she was his wife.

Renouf knelt on one knee and crossed himself quickly as the Bishop heaved his frame up from the throne with the help of his crosier and made the sign of the cross.

“I’ll speak to some people. Bless you, my son.”

Renouf stood. “When will I hear from you, Your Excellency?”

“Return in a fortnight.”

Let’s hope he has found another resolution before that day
.

Renouf bowed his way out of the audience.

When the petitions were over, the Bishop sent a discreet cleric to Kingston Gorse, where Sir Stephen Marquand dwelt. It was close to Melton and the knight might know something of this drama.

His suspicions were confirmed when the cleric returned with details of the Melton family and their suffering at the cruel hands of Renouf de Maubadon. While Sir Stephen hadn’t mentioned the involvement of the Montbryce family in the disappearance of the Saxons, he hadn’t denied it either. The Bishop also learned of the dominion the Montbryces had been given over the Sussex manors, and of the existence of two Norman stewards at East Preston. He summoned them to his palace.

Two days later, Barat Cormant came to see the Bishop, with his brother’s apologies. As soon as the summons was received they’d sent messages to Lord Antoine and Lord Hugh.

“No matter, Steward Cormant,” the Bishop said. “I suppose I don’t need both of you here. I want to question you on the matter of Melton Manor.”

“Melton, Your Excellency?”

“Hugh de Montbryce is the new overlord there, is he not?”

“He is, your Excellency.”

“What manner of man is Sir Renouf de Maubadon?”

“I’ve met the man but briefly,” Barat spoke truly. “I’ve attempted to peruse the accounts on behalf of Lord Hugh several times, but am rebuffed each time. I gained access only once when Sir Renouf was away in Normandie and his henchman Torod in charge.”

The Bishop steepled his fingers. “And what did you discover?”

Barat replied respectfully. “Your Excellency, I am sworn to the service of the Montbryce family. Perhaps if you could share with me why you wish this information—”

The Bishop bristled, but then said, “There has been a complaint and I’m bound to investigate it.”

Barat looked startled. “About me, your Excellency?”

“
Non, non
. Not about you. About Lord Hugh de Montbryce.”

“And Sir Renouf is the complainant?” Barat hoped he had just the right edge of surprised indignation in his voice.

The Bishop sank further back into his chair. “
Oui
, you have it.”

“My sense is, Excellency, that Sir Renouf is a man with secrets to hide. He’s also a cruel man, who enjoys inflicting pain on others.”

“I see. On his wife,
par example
?”

Barat said nothing, merely nodded slightly.

The Bishop was silent for several minutes. Barat was well aware of the difficult situation the cleric had been put in. Finally His Excellency spoke. “I’m bound by my office to investigate the complaint of the abduction of Sir Renouf’s wife. I wish you to pass that message on to your lord, and to his brother, the Earl of Ellesmere.”

Barat bowed. “
Oui,
your Excellency.” He assumed the meeting was over, but then the Bishop spoke again. “You know, Cormant, one of the things I find exceedingly irritating about my job is how interminably long it seems to take to get anything accomplished. Thank you for coming. Keep me apprised of your progress at East Preston—and Melton. If perchance Lord Hugh does visit Sussex again in the near future, I’d dearly like to meet him.”

Barat nodded his understanding. “
Adieu
, Your Excellency, thank you for your blessing. I will inform my masters.”

***

Back in Normandie, Hugh and Antoine had received the joyous news of the birth of Ram and Mabelle’s son, Robert. Hugh had ridden to Belisle to celebrate with his brother.

“Théobald thinks he’s found the perfect man to follow Renouf when next he goes off to Normandie,” Antoine told Hugh.

“
Bon!
Who is it?”

“Isembart Jubert.”

Hugh laughed. “The rat catcher?”

What could be better!

“
Oui
,” Antoine laughed too. “Jubert has already ascertained that when Renouf sails he usually goes by way of Portsmouth to Barfleur. Apparently rat catchers have a network of information they share. He and Sir Gerwint are watching for signs of preparations for departure from Melton Manor.

Now, a toast,
mon frère
,” Antoine raised his tumbler of Montbryce apple brandy. He’d had several casks brought from the family seat. “To Robert, the next
Comte
de Montbryce.”

“To Robert,” Hugh replied, and both men downed the brandy in one.

Antoine refilled the tumblers. “And to our brother, Rambaud and his beautiful wife, Mabelle. May they have many more healthy children.”

“To Ram and Mabelle.”

The two men had much to discuss and decisions to make after word had come of the Bishop of Arundel’s message to Barat. Hugh had spent many lonely nights at Domfort aching for Devona and worrying about what to do.

Antoine drained his tumbler. “Why have you not brought Devona and her family? I was looking forward to showing them my castle. All is in readiness.”

Hugh had known sooner or later Antoine would pose this question, and he still didn’t know what the answer would be. “She isn’t at Domfort,” he murmured.

About to pour another brandy, Antoine paused. “What did you say? Not at Domfort? Where in the name of all the saints is she then?”

Hugh looked at his feet. “Montbryce.”

Antoine swore. “You left them at Montbryce, despite my advice?”

“I had no choice.”

Antoine slammed his tumbler down. “I don’t understand you, Hugh. You love the woman and you care for her family, to say nothing of those handsome dogs! I know there are difficulties, and no doubt temptations, but surely you need her with you? And what of her? How is she faring without you at Montbryce?”

“I understand she’s well. They’re all well, according to Bonhomme.”

Antoine glared. “
Mon Dieu,
the woman must be bereft. She needs you, and you’ve abandoned her in a foreign land.”

Hugh avoided Antoine’s piercing green eyes. “I had no choice.”

“You keep saying that, little brother, and you’ll have to explain it to me, slowly. There’s more to this than you’re telling me. Have you lost interest in her?”

“
Non!
” Hugh replied vehemently.

Antoine was pacing back and forth now, obviously angry. “Then what’s the problem? Why have you so obviously distanced yourself from her? And don’t give me the excuse of her marriage. We both know Renouf is no husband to her.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m afraid,” Hugh rasped. He would finally have to let his demons see the light of day. He sat with his hands clasped together, trying to still the hand tremor, forearms resting on his thighs, head bowed, staring at the floor, a muscle twitching involuntarily in his leg.

Antoine stopped pacing and his shoulders relaxed. “This has to do with Hastings, does it not, Hugh?” he said gently.

Hugh nodded. “I’m afraid—of myself—of what I might do.”

The silence stretched between them.

“Hugh, I’m about to confess to you something about myself I’ve never told anyone before—about Hastings.”

Hugh was startled. He’d thought he would be the one doing the confessing.

“I’m not sure why I’m so ashamed of this, because I know it happened to many men that day. In the throes of the battle I became uncomfortably aware of the fact that the violence was arousing me.”

Hugh couldn’t speak. His gut had clenched and he thought he might retch.

Antoine continued. “It was a source of great concern to me, because warrior I may be, but I’m not a violent man. It was in fact your words after the battle that brought me some relief.”

Hugh looked up at his brother. “My words?”

“Don’t you recall your anguish, your embarrassment? You were feeling the same wretchedness. It helped. I was able to recognize what had happened to me and I determined to fill my life with passion that brought only joy and happiness and not bloodshed and violence. But I’ve been afraid the same has not been true for you.”

Hugh wanted to weep. “Antoine,” he choked, “I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, afraid that the lust for aggression will resurface if I allow my passion for Devona to control me.”

Antoine put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “
Mon Dieu,
you’re the gentlest person I know. You don’t have a hurtful bone in your body. Have you once had the smallest thought of hurting her?”

“
Non
,” Hugh murmured.

Antoine intensified his grip. “You and Devona have a lot of problems to solve, but you can only do it together. Living apart and in fear will accomplish nothing. Go to Montbryce and get her. Don’t let Hastings destroy both of you.”

Then Hugh did weep, and his brother consoled him.

***

At Montbryce, Devona was trying hard to keep faith. She believed Hugh de Montbryce loved her, that he would slay whatever demons he was wrestling with and come for her. She was glad to have her mother to confide in. “I fell in love the moment I first saw him. It was a surprise because I had tried to deny feelings in an effort to cope with Renouf’s brutality.”

“I sense he’s struggling with something,” her mother replied. “Do you think it’s because you’re a Saxon?”

Devona shook her head. “No. You’re right, he’s struggling, but I don’t know what demons haunt him. And while my marriage is a problem, I think it goes deeper than that.”

Wilona carried on with her sewing. “Well, this castle is a comfortable place to live and we’re all well taken care of, and treated with respect.”

“But it isn’t our home, and I miss Hugh terribly.”

She didn’t tell her mother about her memories of his warm hands on her breasts the night they’d stood on the battlements and how her body had responded to the swelling of his loins pressed against her. She ached for him, but feared she would never be able to entrust her body to a man. “I worry about my future in Normandie, but that of my sisters preoccupies me constantly. What will become of them in this foreign land?”

Her mother smiled. “We’ll have to wait and see what life brings, daughter. We must be patient.”

Devona often went up to the battlements, remembering how safe she’d felt in Hugh’s arms. Looking out one glorious day at the verdant fields and the apple orchards beyond, she caught sight of a brigade of men approaching on horseback. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun.

Can it be?

As the lead rider came into focus, her heart thudded and she had difficulty breathing. She couldn’t decide whether to rush down to tell the others or stay where she was and wave. She chose the latter and almost fell over the wall in her exuberance, flapping the end of her wimple in salute. Hugh smiled when he saw her and she knew in her heart he’d come for her.