Passion in the Blood (19 page)

“Who’s there?” he asked nervously.

“It’s Danyel,
milord
, I’m elated you’re home. Shall I prepare a bath for you?”

“
Oui
, Danyel. I would like to bathe. That’s one of the pleasures I missed the most. Hot water will be a delight. But not too hot—the wounds on my back.”

“
Oui,
milord
, I understand. I’ll make everything ready, and I’ll lay out clothing for you. Perhaps a bed robe for now?”

Robert didn’t answer right away, and Danyel wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then he heard his master whisper, “Probably the best. I don’t intend to do anything today.”

Danyel made the wooden bathtub ready and the stable boys filled it with hot water from the kitchens. The valet was taken aback when Robert snapped angrily at the boys. “Too much noise. Hurry, you’re making too much noise.”

Danyel laid a thick drying cloth against the back of the tub and helped his master rise from the bed and make his way slowly to the tub. Robert leaned heavily on the servant as he stepped into the tub. Suddenly he swayed and grasped Danyel’s arm more tightly, his fingers digging into the young man’s flesh.

“You won’t let me fall, Danyel? I can’t—see.”

“
Non, milord
,” Danyel replied, worried at the look of abject fear on his lord’s face. “I won’t let you fall.”

Carefully he helped his master settle into the hot water, placing a cloth and soap in his hands. “Madame la
Comtesse
has asked me if you’re awake yet,
milord
. Shall I tell her to enter?”

“
Non
,” Robert said quickly. “I’ll bathe first.”

“As you wish,
milord
. I’ll inform
la Comtesse
.”

Robert tried half heartedly to wash his body, but didn’t have the energy. The soothing warmth of the water relaxed him and he dozed until he became aware of the soft feel of the soaped cloth on his skin. “
Merci
Danyel, I’m as weak as a baby.”

When there was no reply, he became alarmed, fearful as to who was in the chamber with him. Roughly, he grasped the hand and stilled it. He could feel immediately it was a woman’s hand and the panicked notion it might be his wife took hold of him. “
Non
!” he rasped.

Dorianne whispered, “Robert, be calm, my love. I want to wash you.”

He shook his head and forced her hand away from his body. “You’ll never wash the stink from me, Dorianne. I don’t want you to look at my body. I’m not the man I was.”

His wife pulled against his grip. “Robert, you insult me if you believe I married you only for your body,” she said softly. “Let me help you. Please don’t shut me out. I was also abducted. I need your comfort.”

Her words gnawed his heart. He laid her hand against his cheek. “Dorianne, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I failed you.”

She cupped his face in both hands and kissed him on the lips. “
Non
, Robert. I failed you. I trusted Pierre.”

Robert shuddered. “Wash me, Dorianne. Help me cleanse my soul of this torment.”

She took the cloth and washed his ravaged body, then helped him stand and step out of the tub. The effort made him shake and he had to lean on her.

“Hold on to the chair while I dry you,” she said. “Danyel has laid out your robe. I’ll help you dress.”

He gripped the chair, feeling nauseous. “You’re not my servant.”

Dorianne dabbed carefully at the livid scars on his back. “Robert, I love you. I’ll serve you all my life. I’ll be the one to nurse you back to health.”

She dried his body, kissing him tenderly as she applied salve to his back. The painful pleasure was more than he could bear, but he didn’t have the strength to fight her.

“Now get back into bed and I’ll fetch your son. Your mother is anxious to see you.”

He sat on the bed with her help. “How can you love what I’ve become? Even my mother won’t recognize me. I can barely walk.”

Dorianne cupped his face in her hands. “Robert, because the Duke wanted to destroy you doesn’t make you less of a man. That dubious honour falls to him and my mad brother.”

She went to the door where her mother-by-marriage waited with the babe. She took her son so Mabelle could untie Robert’s blindfold. He squinted to look at his mother for the first time in months. The long ordeal had taken its toll. She’d aged. She would have missed his father’s support and guidance during the abduction. She embraced him, her eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking. “Welcome home, my son. I know you’re anxious to meet my grandson.”

He’d avoided looking at Dorianne, afraid he would see how repulsive she found him. Now he dragged his eyes to her face. She too hadn’t escaped unscathed. She’d gained weight, which was to be expected, but fear, not revulsion haunted her. He wanted to cover the face he’d longed to see with a thousand kisses—anything to remove the fear from her eyes.

Dorianne took the child and placed him in his father’s arms, opening the swaddling cloths to let him see his son’s maleness. Robert gazed into eyes as blue as his own then cradled his son against his body, rocking back and forth. “What’s your name,
mon fils
? I’m your father, Robert de Montbryce.”

A sob escaped Dorianne’s throat. “I named him Alexandre, for the warrior king Alexander of Macedonia. I wanted him to have a strong name.”

“Alexandre de Montbryce,” Robert murmured.

The baby fussed. Robert trembled “Your Papa is afraid to drop you. You need your
maman.
”

He handed the child back to Dorianne. She adjusted her dress and chemise, settled on the edge of Robert’s bed and put the baby to her breast. Robert became aroused at the sight of the boy suckling, but his arousal brought home to him sharply the shame ingrained in him during his captivity when he’d been unable to control his burning need. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes, fatigue and guilt sweeping over him. “Leave me now. I’m tired,” he said coldly.

Mabelle eyed him curiously and suggested they wait until the baby had finished.

He became more agitated. “
Non, maman
, leave me
now
—please.”

“It’s all right, Robert. We’ll go. I’ll bring Alexandre back when you’ve rested,” Dorianne said softly.

After they left the chamber, Robert put his head in his hands. He’d sent away the very people he’d longed to see when he was a captive. He couldn’t understand his own actions. He ran his hand over his head and felt the light stubble. “Poor Alexandre. What a sight for his first glimpse of his father. No wonder my mother looked at me strangely.”

Exhaustion weighed heavily and he slept.

***

Alexandre was still fussing as Mabelle and Dorianne left Robert’s chamber. Mabelle held out her hands. “Let me take him to the wet nurse, Dorianne. You need to rest.”

Could her mother-by-marriage see the agony in her eyes? She had expected it to be bad, but it was much worse than her worst nightmare.

She nodded woodenly and handed the squirming infant over. Mabelle hurried off with him, and Dorianne turned to go to her own chamber. She controlled her need to scream until her head was buried in her pillow. The sobs racked her body until she thought she might choke. She still loved Robert, but this was going to take much more than love to heal. Something in her husband had died. She could see it in his eyes. Would she be equal to the task of bringing him back to life?

He would never love her again after what she’d allowed her brother to do to him. She vowed to atone for her brother’s sin by accepting that Robert would be repulsed by her. She would love him anyway.

***

Robert woke to find Baudoin and Caedmon standing beside his bed.

Baudoin smiled. “You look better already. Better than you did in Caen at any rate.”

Robert shrugged, then regretted the movement.

Baudoin sat on the edge of the bed. “Caedmon and I are leaving today. We’ll catch up to the King and return to England with him. I’m sorry we can’t stay longer, but you’re well armed and guarded here, and Curthose will keep out of harm’s way for the moment.”

“Baudoin, Caedmon, I owe you my life,” Robert said humbly.

Baudoin grinned at him, but Robert could see his brother didn’t want to let his emotions show. “Make the best of that life then, brother.”

Robert rose slowly from the bed and the three clasped hands.

Caedmon too was emotional. “Take care of your little lad, Robert. He needs a strong father, and Dorianne needs you. She suffered. It was her courage carried them both through.”

“I know,” Robert whispered. “Godspeed.”

Mabelle was worried. In the two months since his release Robert had regained some weight, and looked physically better, but his recovery wasn’t easy for him, or for Dorianne. She suspected they hadn’t lain together since her son’s return. Dorianne had lost her buoyant nature.

Mabelle commented on Robert’s improved appearance to her daughter-by-marriage as they sat together in the gallery, embroidering a new banner for the Hall.

Dorianne smiled. “
Oui
, he trains with the men, rebuilding his muscles.”

Mabelle looked at her thoughtfully and continued sewing for several minutes before she spoke again. “Are the lacerations on his back healed?”

Dorianne hesitated. “
Oui
, but he’ll bear the scars.”

Both women knew it was an ignominious mark no Norman of noble birth should have to bear.

The pop of the sharp needles puncturing the heavy fabric and the whisper of the embroidery silk as they pulled the threads were the only sounds in the still air. Mabelle didn’t know if she should interfere or if Dorianne would resent her for it.

“Does he sleep well?”

Dorianne looked up quickly and tensed her shoulders. Then she looked away, but not before Mabelle had seen the desolation in her eyes.

Mabelle lay down her needle and put her hand on Dorianne’s. “Sometimes a burden shared—”

Dorianne drew in a long breath and a tear trickled down her cheek. “We no longer share a chamber, but I know he has nightmares. Hellish nightmares.”

Mabelle put her arm around Dorianne’s shoulders and hugged her. “It’s to be expected, I suppose, but it can’t be easy for you.”

Dorianne sniffled. “He dreams of the horrors he endured, of the flogging, of the moment he thought all was lost and he would die alone. I know it’s because of the nightmares he’s afraid to share my bed. He curls up every night with the cat he procured from the rat-catcher. He dotes on the creature.”

“Baudoin told me Robert murmured your name when they found him, but it was a cat’s cry that first alerted them.”

A wail escaped Dorianne’s lips. “I love him, but sometimes he flies into violent rages at the slightest provocation. It’s hard to gentle him back to calmness. He complains of strange noises no one else can hear. Sometimes I’m afraid. How can he not blame me for trusting my brother?”

Mabelle had seen some of the terrifying rages Dorianne spoke of. “I too have seen insignificant things send him into a panic.”

Dorianne wiped away tears. “One day when Alexandre spat up his food, Robert broke down and cried.”

Mabelle was bereft she didn’t know how to resolve these problems. How she longed for Ram’s comfort. He’d have known how to help Robert in his recovery. She and Dorianne stayed in the gallery, holding hands, until darkness fell.

***

Though his body was stronger, Robert was painfully aware he wasn’t recovering from his ordeal. He often woke in the night panting, terrified of suffocating. He wanted to lie with his wife, but was still overwhelmed with guilt. He was an unworthy sinner.

Alexandre’s insistent cries for nourishment threatened to send him over the edge and he became verbally abusive. “Silence your whining child, Dorianne. By the saints, feed the boy.”

He avoided his daughters, afraid of his impatience with their shrieks of laughter. He raged inwardly, knowing how hurtful his words were to his wife. He longed to hold her, caress her and make love to her, but he was afraid and full of shame. He wasn’t worthy of her.

The desire for vengeance never left him. Sometimes it threatened to engulf him. He dreamt of the different ways he would torture and kill Curthose. His black humours were short lived and he was always contrite. It was difficult for everyone and he could tell his behaviour was taking a toll on his mother especially. She spent most of her days in the crypt and he suspected she went there to “talk” to his father.