Music for My Soul (27 page)

She and Maude went off in search of chickens, and Madeleine asked the servant for wine, too.

Soon, Madeleine returned to Garrett with a tray. He grinned lazily at her.

“I need to undress you, my lord,” she told him. “I must see to your wound.”

He grinned at her. “Will you see to others things, too?”

Exasperated, she pushed him back onto the pillows and unwound the strip of cloth from his leg. Both his pants and hose were soaked with blood, which had begun to clot. She removed his boots, followed by his clothing.

She cleaned the deep slice first with water then warned him, “This may sting,” before pouring wine over the gash. He sucked in air loudly through clenched teeth as the wine touched his skin.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Taking care of you the best I know how,” she replied tartly. “I’ll either save you or kill you in the process. We’ll just have to await the outcome.”

“’Tis worse than facing a herd of bloody Scots,” he muttered. “’Tis not even a scratch.”

She ignored him as he rambled on, rubbing the whites of eggs across the wound to provide a soothing balm. As she brought the skin close together, she chanted, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Mary. The wound was red, the cut deep, the flesh be sore, but there will be no more blood or pain till the Blessed Virgin bears a child again.”

Binding it with a clean cloth, she leaned back and surveyed her work.

He grinned at her. “Never have I had such a lovely nurse.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss upon her knuckles.

She looked him in eye. “Oh, no, my lord, you aren’t to move a muscle.” She removed her hand from his and folded them both primly in her lap.

“Mayhap you are right,” he said.

“Of course I’m right,” she retorted. “I want you to get some rest now.”

“Will you stay with me? Please.”

She gave in, allowing him to bring her down next to him. He placed an arm about her and drew her close until her head lay on his chest. “Now I am at peace,” he told her. He kissed the top of her head.

They stayed that way for some minutes, then Garrett whispered, “I want you.”

Immediately, she felt the familiar stirring inside her. She wanted his touch and yet she did not. It would only make it harder to leave him. But her heart argued with her mind to seize the moment, for there could be no others. Soon Garrett and England would be far behind, and she would only have these memories to sustain her for the rest of her life.

She glanced up at him, and his lips moved to hers. She responded to his kiss, cradling his face in her hands. He needed no further encouragement.

“No regrets,” she whispered into his mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, holding him close to her.

Some time later, when they were spent, he fell asleep.

Madeleine slipped quietly from the bed and dressed. She found Maude humming in the kitchen, the chicken plucked, boiled, and ready to be consumed.

“Oh, my lady, how be the master? Well rested now, is he?”

“He’s asleep, Maude. He’ll need broth from the chicken, too. We don’t want him to get a fever.” Madeleine hesitated a moment. “And, please, call me Madeleine. I am no lady.”

Maude sized her up shrewdly. “Yer every inch a lady, my dear. Can’t hide that. Can’t hide how taken the master is with you, neither.”

Madeleine blushed and shook her head.

“Don’t be silly, my lady. My master has been most unhappy ‘bout near all his life. Don’t think I’ll judge ye simply ‘cause ye’ve brought a little sunshine into his life.” She eyed Madeleine speculatively. “Does he know ye’re a lady?”

Madeleine laughed, taken aback at her astuteness. “No, Maude. He thinks me a thief.”

“And he still loves ye, nonetheless? ‘Bout the only thing ye’ve stolen is his heart, I’d daresay.” She patted Madeleine’s shoulder. “Come, dear. Let’s get the master a meal in his belly, and then he can have all the sleep he wants.”

Garrett awoke the next morning with a parched throat and a dull ache in his leg. His head was clear, though, with none of the throbbing pain to which he had become accustomed. It was too bad, in a way, for then he could have asked Madeleine to sing to him. Her voice had a way of soothing the pains in his head. He would have enjoyed being her audience of one.

He spotted her dozing in a chair next to his bed. She’d probably been there all night. He reached over and gently took her hand, feeling its warmth. She stirred slightly, but did not waken.

He gazed at her lovingly, wanting to know every inch of her. All his anger from the previous day was spent. He still wondered how she’d come into possession of Lynnette’s necklace, but she would tell him in her own time. For now, he needed to return to Stanbury as soon as possible and confront Barth. Only when he learned the truth about Lynnette could he start a new life with Madeleine.

He studied her face, glad for once she was silent. Not that he didn’t enjoy their verbal sparring. She had a quick tongue and keen mind, and he enjoyed their conversations immensely. Still, it seemed a luxury to look upon her beauty in the quiet morning.

He focused on the faint scar that marred her perfect skin. The slightly jagged ridge ran along her cheekbone and he determined it must have come from a ring. Someone had backhanded her with a powerful blow to cause such a blemish to be embedded so deeply. He would kill the man that had mistreated her. He would not rest until he’d done so.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze, and her eyelids fluttered. Despite his sore leg, he leaned up and softly kissed her sweet lips.

“Good morning, my nurse. ‘Tis time you woke and tended your patient.”

She stretched lazily. “This good nurse needs to be up and about, my lord. Sleeping in a chair is not my idea of a comfortable night.”

“You’d rather sleep on that flea-bitten quilt in your rented hovel?”

“Mayhap,” she said teasingly.

He started to rise.

“Oh, no. You are to remain abed the whole day. Maude and I have decided that already. You need rest aplenty.”

“No, my dear, we leave for Stanbury today. I must—

”Madeleine pushed him back against his pillows, her hands firm on his shoulders. “I know you are anxious to learn about Lynnette, but ‘twill only be for a day. I want to be sure of your strength before you set out on such a long ride.”

“You treat me as a babe,” he grumbled.

“Just for today, Garrett. Now I’ll heat some broth for you to break your fast.”

She returned in a little while with a steaming bowl of the broth she’d promised him, along with ale and bread. She redressed his wound as he ate.

“The cut already looks to be healing nicely.”

“All thanks to your care.” His eyes caressed her.

She swallowed hard. “Garrett, ‘tis something we must talk about. There are things you must know.” She twisted her hands together, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the right words to say.

“’Tis about—”

“There ye are, Madeleine. Might’ve known where ye’d be.”

Maude bustled into the room, drawing the curtains as she hummed a bit off-key. “Ye be well-looking, Lord Montayne.”

Sunshine streamed into the room, and Madeleine began pacing nervously. He wished Maude hadn’t interrupted their conversation since he knew Madeleine was about to share something of her past with him.

“Ye look to have much energy, Madeleine,” said Maude. “Mayhap ye could accompany me to market? I’ve a mind to prepare eels, seeing as to how Lord Montayne be partial to ‘em.”

Maude raised her brows at him. “Ye’d like some eels now, in a bit o’ saffron sauce? Or would ye be preferrin’ fried minnows?”

“They both sound good, Maude. You make the choice.”

The servant clucked her tongue. “Well, we won’t be deciding just yet then. We’ll wait till we see what Old James has.” She nodded at Madeleine. “I’ll get us some baskets, dearie.”

As soon as Maude left the room, Madeleine went to him and placed her hand against the side of his face. “I will help Maude now.” She hesitated a moment. “When we return, I must speak to you. ‘Tis important.”

Henri de Picassaret left the church immediately after mass. He still felt a bit unsure about being in London after hearing the warning from the gatekeeper concerning the waning epidemic of typhus. Yet no fear of illness could have kept him from following Garrett Montayne as he chased after Madeleine.

The wanton bitch
.

Henri felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought of his wife giving herself to a lover. And he had no doubt based on Garrett’s reaction to her disappearance that they were lovers. How dare she! How dare she forsake him and their vows in the first place. Who did the chit think she was to leave him, Henri de Picassaret, man of wealth and God’s chosen one?

He must find her and take her back to France. He had spent this very morning in constant prayer to the Almighty Father, seeking His advice on how to punish his wife’s ungodly behavior. Death seemed too pleasant for one who had sinned as heavily as Madeleine. But, in the end, he supposed God would wish it so. After all, he must find a new wife who could give him children if he were to build a dynasty to revere God’s greatness. It was his duty to produce heirs.

It seemed a pity, though, that God had felt the need to test him so. Three barren wives, and now the last one who also proved to be an adulteress. It was almost more than a good Christian man such as himself could bear.

But, as a man of God, he felt he must accept his fate and walk the path God provided for him. But how painful that path could be. To be publicly humiliated by Garrett Montayne. Madeleine’s paramour had flaunted their immorality in his face. A man did not get much lower than Garrett Montayne. To think that he had almost traded his precious French land to that English swine.

Henri had been searching for Madeleine in the disease-ridden city and had actually found her at some rundown rooms. But before he could make his move, Montayne had showed up and snatched her from his grasp. Infuriated, he’d followed them at a distance until they’d entered The Open Locket. Though his curiosity was aroused, it had not stopped him from approaching a burly ruffian on the street. He’d paid the man good coin to take Montayne down and retrieve Madeleine for him.

Of course, now he was being tested even further by God. The man had barely threatened the couple with his knife when he was struck down, compliments of Garrett Montayne. Instead of taking Montayne by surprise and fleeing with Madeleine in tow, the idiot had tried to rob them first. What a waste of his money and time.

If things were to be done right, then Henri must take it upon himself. He’d seen Montayne slashed in the brief fight. He had no qualms about using that injury, or whatever trick was necessary, to kill his wife’s lover and reclaim her. Madeleine would have to be severely punished before he let her escape into Death’s welcoming arms.

He made his way to Montayne’s London home. He stood on the corner across from it, watching, wondering if the unrighteous couple lay fornicating within.

Suddenly the door opened. Henri stepped back, pressing himself tightly against the building behind him.

An old crone, the height of a child, came out the door. Madeleine followed her, a market basket tucked into the crook of her arm. She turned back when her name was called.

Montayne appeared in the doorway and she returned the few steps to him. He leaned down and kissed her briefly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Henri nearly exploded on the spot, seeing the Englishman touch his wife in such an intimate gesture and Madeleine’s face fill with pleasure. It was only God’s spirit working in him that kept him from screaming to the heavens.

Instead, he carefully moved from where he stood and began following her on the other side of the narrow street. He stayed well behind her, out of her line of vision, while he hatched his plan.

He
alone wielded the sword of justice. It was about time his wife learned this.

Soon they arrived at the market, an explosion of smells and sounds. The odors of fish and warm bread invaded his senses, as did the sweat of the tightly packed bodies all vying for business. He hated being this close to so many people, worrying what diseases they might harbor. He kept his arms tightly by his sides, not wanting to touch any one of them.

He wished suddenly that Bertrand were with him. The servant might be stupid, but he was strong, and he had on several occasions helped Henri discipline Madeleine. Hopefully, though, Henri would take her so unawares that she would not have time to react. He must depend on God to give him the strength he needed when the time came.

The women moved from stall to stall, studying the goods to be had. The tiny servant finally stopped at a booth where fish were sold. She began arguing animatedly with its proprietor.

Henri watched Madeleine move away from her and pick up some trinket. She had a dreamy expression on her face which Henri would slap off her the minute they were alone.

It was that look that moved him to action.

Madeleine instantly recognized the vise-grip that seized her arm. The bony hand belied the power in those fingers. Paralyzed by fear, the cry she longed to voice would not come. Her freedom snatched away in one brief moment, she focused on the familiar black onyx signet ring her husband never took from his hand. It was the sight of this ring that caused her to resist.

She desperately dug in her heels and pulled in the opposite direction, trying to stop Henri’s forward motion.

He turned. The look on his face brought terror to her soul. The face of a madman. A scream formed but never came, for Henri slapped her so hard that her teeth rattled.

The sunny day went almost black, while stars exploded in a palette of color. Without warning, a second blow followed, and she slumped to the ground in a heap.

Madeleine awoke to the splash of freezing water hitting her in the face.

Henri stood over her, his mouth twitching rapidly, a sure sign that he was out of control. She might have teased Garrett about being the Devil Himself, but she knew that a true demon from hell now stood above her.