Passion in the Blood (9 page)

The woman stared at him.

Robert hesitated. This was no blushing matron. Should he hand over the letter, or explain first? If he gave it to her and she retreated into the Enclosure, he would have no way of knowing what might happen next. Maybe nothing. “The letter concerns Dorianne de Giroux.”

The woman’s eyes darted from him to Hugh and back again. She withdrew her hand. Something in her manner told him to give her the parchment. She unfurled it and read its contents then shook her head. “You cannot enter the Enclosure. It’s forbidden.”

Robert shifted his weight. “I understand, and we have no wish to trespass. Perhaps Dorianne could come out to see us?”

The woman hesitated. “What’s your interest in my novice?”

Robert decided honesty was the best policy. He was after all speaking to a nun. “She’s to be my wife.”

The
Abbesse
shook her head. “
Non
, my son, her family has given her to God.”

Robert braced his legs. “
Ma m
è
re
, they had no right. Dorianne is pledged to me. It was her brother brought her here, was it not? My claim on her outweighs his. I am Robert de Montbryce, son of Rambaud,
Comte
de Montbryce, Earl of Ellesmere, hero of the Battle of Hastings.”

Did any of these things matter to this woman who had the power to deny him his happiness?

The nun straightened her back. “You are fortunate, young Montbryce, that my novice is not in the Enclosure, otherwise I would have to forbid contact with her.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Robert saw the basket of slate stop abruptly in mid air. Was it about to fall?

“Not in the Enclosure?” he parroted, half his attention on the basket.

“She’s in the Infirmary.”

His head swivelled back to look at the nun and he took a step towards her. “She’s ill?”

Hugh put his hand on Robert’s arm. “Steady,” he whispered.

“She’s recovering. I’ll obey the
Comte
and allow you to see her—on the morrow. It’s late and she’s asleep. Return to the Prior. He will provide you with a cell for the night.”

Robert chafed, but had no choice. The woman closed the door and they went off to seek their night’s lodging.

***

Robert tossed and turned, his heart in turmoil knowing Dorianne was so close, yet so far away. Why had she fallen ill? Would she recover as the
Abbesse
had promised? Would the nun change her mind and not allow him to see her? Surely there was some way he could use the basket?

They were summoned early the next morning. The
Abbesse
awaited them on the stone path, her expression stern. She led them to a different entrance. They entered a small, dimly lit infirmary. Two of the five pallets were empty. Slumbering forms filled the others, but only one could be a young woman. Robert resisted the urge to run to her. “What has caused this sickness?” he asked.

The nun didn’t look at him and cleared her throat before answering. “It was a fever.”

A suspicion grew in Robert’s mind. “What would cause such a fever,
ma mère?
”

The woman poked her finger into the coif digging into her neck. “She’d been—she had—lacerations. They festered.”

Robert remembered the maidservant’s claim Pierre had whipped Dorianne and he swore to avenge this travesty.

Dorianne lay on her side. The
Abbesse
touched her shoulder. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly. Robert inhaled sharply when he saw how pale she was. Her cropped hair was matted to her head. It was the first time he’d seen her hair completely uncovered and he wept inwardly that such beautiful tresses had been so brutally shorn. She heard his gasp and slowly turned her head to look at him. She blinked rapidly and her breathing became laboured. “Robert?” she murmured.

He wanted to strike out at something, anything. He took her hand, ignoring the indignation of the
Abbesse
, prevented from taking action by Hugh’s sizable frame planted between her and the pallet. “I’m here, Dorianne, my love.”

She became agitated and squeezed his hand. Her eyes filled with tears. “Robert? Is it you?”

He brushed his lips against hers and whispered, “It’s me. I’ve come to take you home.”

“
Milord
Montbryce!” the
Abbesse
protested, trying to reach the pallet without having to push Hugh out of the way. “I cannot allow—”

“Cease!”

All eyes went to the doorway where Pierre de Giroux stood, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Robert and Hugh unsheathed their weapons.

The
Abbesse
moved towards Pierre, waving her arms, her voice strident. “
Non
, there will be no bloodshed. This is a house of God.”

Pierre didn’t draw his sword. Instead he held up both hands, palms outward, in a gesture of reconciliation. “I haven’t come to fight. I came to atone and to free my sister. I didn’t expect to find you here,
milord
Montbryce.” He bowed slightly.

Dorianne reached for Robert’s hand. “Pierre is here?” she rasped, her voice full of fear.

Robert kissed her hand. “
Oui
, but he will not hurt you. I guarantee it.”

Pierre took a step towards his sister, but stopped when Robert menaced him with his sword. He looked to the
Abbesse
. “
Ma mère
, I came because I am filled with remorse over what happened with my sister. My rage overcame me. All in Normandie are living in uncertain times. I am as much the victim of my father’s hatreds as she is. I’ve prayed, and continue to pray for God’s forgiveness. I hope Dorianne can forgive me. It’s time to put this bitter feud behind us.”

Robert didn’t believe a word of it and judging by the expression on Hugh’s face, neither did he. But the
Abbesse
seemed to soften. “God forgives us if we are truly sorry, my son.”

Pierre knelt before the nun. “I am truly sorry,” he sobbed. She patted his bowed head.

Robert and Hugh sheathed their swords, but still shielded Dorianne.

Pierre got to his feet and turned to face Robert, holding out his hand. “I beg your forgiveness, Robert.”

Rage surged through him. How dare this madman who had brought Dorianne to death’s door address him by his given name? “Listen well, Pierre de Giroux, I intend to take Dorianne from this place and make her my wife. If I have my way she will never have to set eyes on you again.”

The
Abbesse
gasped. Robert glared at Pierre.

“Robert.” It was Dorianne’s frail voice. He turned to look at her.

“If he’s truly sorry, I can forgive him. He’s my brother.”

Robert wanted to shake her. His head suddenly ached and his belly churned. She was too trusting, too naive. Weaned on hatred, she personified love. He didn’t want to upset her. She was still very ill. He bent to whisper in her ear. “We can discuss it later.”

She nodded, but replied, “I would accept his kiss of contrition now.”

Robert shook from head to foot with anger, but had no choice but to watch the emboldened Pierre draw close to his sister and kiss her forehead. “Forgive me,
ma soeur
. I should have been the one to protect you. I am sorry I hurt you. I free you from this novitiate.”

Dorianne’s eyes filled with tears. “I forgive you, Pierre. I thank God you have come back to me.”

Pierre stepped back, sniffling and brushing away a tear. “I trust she can remain here until she has recovered,
ma mère
?”

The nun nodded. “It will be a few more days yet before she can travel.”

Robert wanted to seize Pierre, bundle him into the masons’ basket, hoist it up to the roof and cut it loose. Instead he leaned close to his future brother-by-marriage and in a low voice said, “If you ever hurt her again, I will kill you.”

Robert saw no contrition in Pierre’s eyes.

“I must return home, Dorianne. I’ll inform father of what has transpired and of your upcoming nuptials.”

She smiled weakly. Robert sensed she was nearing the end of her endurance. She closed her eyes and drifted off with a sigh.

Hugh spoke for the first time as they watched Pierre stroll out of the infirmary. “I wouldn’t trust the whelp as far as I could throw him.”

“My feelings exactly.” Robert exhaled loudly and patted his uncle on the back. “Seems we’re here for a bit longer. Thank you for supporting me in this.”

Hugh took his elbow. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I rescued Devona?”

Robert laughed. “Many times, Uncle Hugh, many times!”

They took advantage of the two days spent waiting for Dorianne’s condtion to improve by planning their next move. One afternoon they rode back to the mainland to confer with Melton and Mathieu. The most important thing was to get Robert and Dorianne to England. Robert wanted to explain personally to his parents his intention to marry a Giroux, and he needed them to meet Dorianne when he did.

Hugh summed up their discussions. “The best plan is to subject Dorianne to as little time as possible on horseback. I propose we ride to Cherbourg—a day’s ride. We can take ship for Portsmouth, which is usually an easier crossing. From there, we’ll make our way to Melton Manor where Dorianne can recuperate for a few days before you complete the journey to Ellesmere. Melton, Mathieu and I can return after we’ve made sure all is running smoothly with some of our other manors in Sussex, and you can carry on with the men-at-arms.”

Mathieu had another suggestion. “These sheep must belong to someone hereabouts. I’ll seek him out and perhaps procure a cart for Dorianne.”

Melton looked out across the bay. “You’d better make your way back. The fog is rolling in. You don’t want to be crossing those sands in fog. You could find yourself riding out to sea!”

The going was indeed treacherous as Hugh and Robert slowly made their way back to the Abbey, relying only on the faint traces of hoof prints as white fog blanketed the black sands.

***

Robert spent long hours watching Dorianne sleep, willing her to recover. He studied her face in repose, trying to ascertain what it was that had enthralled him. He couldn’t explain it. She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but he’d known many beautiful women, yet none had appealed to him.

Was it her innocence? The urge to be the first to possess her was powerful, but he sensed this ‘innocent’ had a passionate side to her that would bring him more than simple physical release.

There was an elusive something about Dorianne de Giroux that had enslaved him the moment he’d set eyes on her. Had she bewitched him? And she could be stubborn. He’d tried repeatedly to shake her belief in Pierre’s repentance, but she was steadfast. Too trusting, too naive. But it was what he loved about her. He would protect her from her naiveté.

I am in love with this woman.

He put his hand on her shoulder. She stirred and looked up at him. He was relieved she looked better, but it would still be a harrowing journey for her.

“The tide is well out, and Melton and Mathieu have brought a cart for you, but perhaps we should wait one more day,” he suggested.

Dorianne shook her head. “
Non
, I want to be gone from this place. The
Abbesse
brought my own clothes back to me yestereve. I’ll dress and meet you on the path.”

He kissed her on the forehead and went to join the other men. The cart was crude and dirty, but it had four good wheels, and would be more comfortable than a horse. Overwhelmed by Mathieu’s generous offer, the grinning farmer had thrown in his own services and a weary-looking carthorse.

“I could probably have obtained it for less,” Mathieu had lamented. “I think I offered him more coin than he’s ever had in his lifetime. I’ll wager the sheep won’t see their master for a while! He may not return once he’s taken us to Cherbourg.”

Robert hurried to Dorianne’s side when she appeared at the doorway, and helped her to the cart. Travelling this way would slow them down, but it couldn’t be helped. He introduced Dorianne to his relatives. A bolt of jealousy surged through him when both his cousins kissed her hand and showed their unbridled appreciation for her beauty.

“I’m afraid it’s not very stylish, Dorianne,” Mathieu apologized.

She smiled at him, sending another spark of indignation through Robert. He’d have to keep an eye on these cousins of his.

“I’m grateful for it, Mathieu,” she replied.

As they rode away from the Abbey, Dorianne looked up at the workmen who were hauling up another basket of slate. What was she thinking? He caught her eye and she smiled. “I pondered if there was a way to use it to escape,” she confessed.

Robert returned the smile with a chuckle. “And I was planning how to use it to rescue you! Thank goodness it didn’t come to that. I’ve no head for heights!”

***

By the time they arrived in Cherbourg a day and a half later, Dorianne was bruised and stiff. The cart had saved her
derri
è
re
from further aggravation, but the journey had been bone-jarring. However, it had provided many hours in which to contemplate her situation.