The squire stumbled over his words, pale of face and obviously worried about the harmful ramifications of interrupting his master not only once this morn but now twice, and the second time most rudely, in midsentence.
Damien tried to school his face into a less threatening glower, looking back to the youth and saying evenly, “Slow down, lad. You will earn no rebuke for speaking the news you have come to convey. Is there more to it than what you have already told me?”
“Aye, my lord,” the squire said, his throat working as he swallowed several times, and his brown eyes troubled. “It is this: Lord Harwick approaches from the west. Lady Alissende, several of her maids, and their escorts departed the castle gates but a quarter hour past to go a-berrying in the woodland that borders the western portion of Glenheim.”
Damien felt as if he’d been impaled through the gut as the import of what he’d just heard sank home, even before the squire uttered the final damning words…
“Lord Harwick will come upon the Lady Alissende while she is protected by naught but a handful of men, Sir Damien. And if his actions in the past hold true, then she is in grave danger. Very grave danger indeed.”
Chapter 7
The forest was a welcome refuge from the heat of the sun; Alissende relished it as she searched for the patches of thick-leaved strawberry plants that usually grew here in abundance.Mèrehad been craving one of their favorite summer sweets: ripe berries washed in red wine, then simmered in almond milk, thickened with flour and stirred with raisins, saffron, sugar, ginger, and cinnamon. The pudding would take the rest of the day to make, and so setting out this morn on a hunt for the berries seemed as good a reason as any to take to the peace of the woodland for a while.
Damien would likely be angry when he found out she had left the castle proper without notifying him, but she hadn’t been able to bear the possibility that he would refuse her request. She needed to get away, even if only for a short while.
Thank heaven Michael seemed to understand; he had happened upon her just as she’d been readying to leave with four of her lady’s maids, and at first, he had been concerned by her plan—concerned enough to interrupt Damien’s training session in the yard, even, in an effort to make her stay within the gates. But somehow, she had managed to convince him that would be unnecessary. It had taken some cajoling on her part, along with her agreement to allow four castle guardsmen to accompany her into the wood, but she had gained his support, eventually.
Now she was here, in the peacefulness of the forest, and allowing any heavy musings to cloud her mind only wasted this brief reprieve that had been granted to her. As if in reminder of that truth, Alissende saw brighter sun ahead, glinting through the trees in wide slants that danced with dust motes. It beckoned her forward, and in a few more steps, she’d entered a sizeable glade that seemed to fairly dazzle with light in comparison to the shade of the woodland. Spread across nearly the entire expanse of the clearing, lovely crimson strawberries peeped from beneath low-growing, dark green leaves.
It was perfect; just what she had been seeking.
Calling out to the two of her ladies in nearest proximity, Jeanette and Edmee, to join her, Alissende readied several baskets they’d brought along and prepared to pick.
“Ah, this is a fine patch indeed, milady,” Edmee said, her rosy face alight with pleasure when she stepped into the glade with Jeanette. “Catherine and Marguerite will be jealous, for they have not yet found anything nearly as good. Shall we send one of the guards to bring them here as well?” She was a sweet girl, rounded and fair, with the soft blue eyes for which her family was known, and she made a striking contrast with the more slender, dark-haired Jeanette.
“Aye,” Alissende agreed. “If they have not wandered too far, it would be best, I think.”
“I will see to it, my lady,” Jeannette murmured, curtseying briefly before turning back to speak with the guards, who lingered in the forest only a few paces behind them.
In a short while, Jeanette returned to the glade and fell to picking in earnest alongside Alissende. However, Alissende could not miss how Jeanette and Edmee kept exchanging whispered comments, giggling and sneaking glances at the remaining three quite attractive guardsmen who had taken up posts along the edge of the glade. The soldiers looked awkward, though intent upon fulfilling their duty, and Alissende smiled at her ladies’ flirtatious chatter.
How young they all were. How innocent to the sharp edges that love could carry, along with its sweetness. When she watched them, it seemed so simple and uncomplicated. Not at all like her own feelings for Damien.
It was becoming unbearable, this rising push and pull of her emotions. With every moment she spent in Damien’s company, she felt the tug of longing. With each brush of his hand against hers in public, or the touch of his palm to the small of her back as they walked through the main hall or from the chapel back to the castle proper, she experienced that sweet melting sensation inside. That yearning to fold herself into his embrace in the way that had once been as natural to them as breathing.
And yet she could not forget that he was a reluctant participant in their painful charade. He was not the same man he’d been then. Any tenderness he offered her now was all for show, and his protectiveness was for the sake of duty. It would end in a little less than six months, and he would walk away without turning back.
Just as he had five years ago, after she’d broken his heart.
In a way, she could not blame him. But another part of her raged at the horrible irony of it all, even as she cursed herself for continuing to harbor softer feelings for him. They were feelings that couldn’t be trusted, she reminded herself, given for a man who no longer existed. That she had caused the initial rift between them did not alter the fact that the Damien who had reentered her life was harsh and angry from much more than just her long-ago rejection. He had even turned his back on God, and such abandonment of faith could not be so easily overlooked. It weighed upon her and—
Alissende suddenly heard a squeal of delight from Edmee, and she looked up again to see the young woman leap to her feet. Edmee turned to hold out a strawberry nearly the size of her palm, her face alight with excitement as she exclaimed, “My lady, look at this one!”
Sitting back on her heels, Alissende was readying to say something encouraging when she saw the color drain from Edmee’s cheeks and heard her gasp, even as the three guardsmen suddenly cleared their weapons and a familiar voice rang out behind her.
“Ah, yes—will you look at that one, indeed.”
Breathing in sharply, Alissende spun to face the one who had spoken, her heart hammering as she met the sardonic gaze of her second cousin, Hugh de Valles, fourth Earl of Harwick. He stood less then ten paces from her, a tall and powerful man who had trained to wield a sword from the time he was a six-year’s-child.
None had ever thought he would inherit the earldom; he was the second son, after all. Michael, as the third, had been promised at birth to the priesthood. But when their father and then their eldest brother had died in quick succession of each other, Hugh had found himself cast into the role of new earl, with all the power and potential corruption that went with the title. All that he lacked was the excessive wealth that he craved, and taking her for his wife would remedy that.
“Hugh,” Alissende finally murmured, struggling to find her voice. “I—I did not realize you were…that I would—”
The rush of fear she was feeling choked off the rest of her words. The last time she had seen him, almost seven months ago, he had attempted to take her by force from one of her mother’s holdings. He had made his intentions for her very clear, then, and though she had fought against him, she had been no match for his undeniable strength and size. All would have been lost, she knew, had Michael not arrived, bringing with him several other clergy, including a bishop, who had managed to convince Hugh that any further action taken by him under such duress would never be recognized as a sanctioned union by the Holy Mother Church.
The memory of that horrible day washed over her, and Alissende swallowed against her rising nausea. Hugh only smiled. Though he had donned armor for traveling, he wore no helm, and his dark hair looked well-groomed as always, accentuating a lean face with a strong jaw and straight nose that most women found pleasing to look upon. He would have been very attractive, Alissende had thought more than once, if not for the shadow of malice in his green-gray eyes and the hint of cruelty in the lines of his sensual mouth.
“My lovely cousin,” he finally murmured, his tone setting the hairs at her nape on end. “Is that the best greeting you can offer me?” As he spoke, he stepped closer to her, not seeming affected in the least by her own guardsmen, who had also moved in toward her from behind, holding their weapons pointed at him.
