Chapter Three
France, 1307
Keeping to the edges of the corridor, Madelaine, Countess of Flandres, stepped carefully.Her heart beat heavily against her ribs as her gaze swept the wide corridor, searching for the count amongst the large crowd entering the hall.She was late.Again.And if her husband discovered this she would be punished.
She rounded a corner and bumped into someone.With a startled gasp, she stepped back.
“Countess.”Lucien, her husband’s confidant and the man who led the household in all things religious, moved in front of her.His smile was charming, the flash of his small eyes anything but.
“Brother.”With head bowed she tried to step around him but he slid in front of her, blocking her escape.He herded her into a small alcove, effectively separating her from the others.She swallowed but did not look up at him.
“You are quite beautiful tonight, my countess.”He touched her cheek.
She jerked back so fast she hit her head on the stone wall.“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I must find my husband.”
He placed a hand on the wall beside her head.His body brushed against hers.Madelaine’s face heated in mortification.
“The count is otherwise occupied.”His smile turned into a sneer and his gaze raked her bodice.Her gown was not risqué, for her husband would not allow any skin to show, but all the same she felt sullied by the brother’s hot leer on her chest.
“Otherwise occupied” meant her husband was engaged with his mistress.The thought didn’t affect her like it used to.Let the other woman have him and his sickening bedsport.In fact it gave her hope that maybe tonight he would leave her alone.
Lucien trailed a dirt-encrusted fingernail down her cheek, over her chin and straight to her bodice.She pushed his hand away, causing him to chuckle.“Don’t be such a prude, Madelaine.”
Her gaze darted to the men walking past, oblivious to the scene playing out a few feet from them.There would be no help from that quarter for they feared Brother Lucien and with good cause.
Lucien’s lust for her was a dirty secret she kept to herself.Her husband would never believe the truth and would punish her for even uttering the words that would condemn the one person for whom he had the utmost respect.The one person who knew her husband’s secrets.
She slid to the right.Lucien blocked her by placing his knee against her thigh.Madelaine closed her eyes in humiliation.’Twasn’t often she gave in to the anger inside her for she’d learned anger was a useless emotion, but Lucien’s constant advances, his obvious lack of respect for his lord’s countess and his position in the church had taken their toll.With an act of defiance she would later pay a price for, Madelaine shoved hard.
Taken off guard, Lucien stumbled back, his eyes wide in surprise.She hurried away, losing herself in the crowd of knights heading to the tables set up for the evening meal.She always felt as if she needed a bath after her encounters with Lucien, but bathing was a luxury she could ill afford.For one, her husband wouldn’t permit it and two, he would be furious if she did not arrive for the evening meal.
Knights took their places at the long tables.Quiet conversation whispered through the hall, but for the most part everyone was subdued.
Unlike her parents’ hall, no musicians played their instruments, no lively chatter rang throughout the hall and certainly no laughter.The evening meal, served after vespers, was a serious affair.Lucien read from the Bible and everyone was expected to listen.Talk was absolutely forbidden during this time.
Madelaine hated it.She hated the strict lifestyle her husband imposed on all who lived under his roof.Even visitors were subject to the stringent regimen.Although most visitors did not mind since they were the Knights of the Order Templar who fought in the Crusades and were used to the lifestyle.
It was no secret the Count of Flandres did not want to wed her.A fact she learned only after the wedding ceremony.He did so only because her family’s connection to King Philip IV—a distant cousin—was too powerful a lure for the Templars.A marriage of one of their most devout followers to Madelaine’s family would secure innumerable political connections.The count had done his duty, but that didn’t mean he liked it and he took his displeasure out on Madelaine every day of her life.
The quiet whispers of the knights died when the count entered, his critical eye roving the room, looking for the slightest infractions, eager to punish those who didn’t follow his rules.
He claimed he punished for the person’s own good and the good of their immortal soul.However, she saw the gleam in his eyes when he ordered a knight flogged.She saw his barely repressed excitement when he watched the flogging.’Twasn’t natural, but she would be the last one to put her fears into words.
His dark gaze landed on her and her stomach churned in apprehension.His look was shrewd, knowing.Was he aware she’d dawdled in the garden after vespers?That she’d arrived late to the hall for supper?He had spies everywhere.Servants who wanted to get in his good graces by telling tales of his wife.More often than not he preferred to believe them rather than her.
Her biggest fear was that someone would see her with the priest and misinterpret the scene.The count would believeshehad cornered the priest rather than the other way around.She shuddered at the thought of what he would do to her.
He settled onto the hard bench beside her.No padded chairs for the lord and lady of the manor here.No rich foods, no sweets, no luxuries of any kind.They lived a sparse existence as dictated by the Order.
Halfway through the meal, her gaze fell upon a man making his way along the edge of the room, his steps light, his body beautifully graceful and heavily muscled in his black hose and dark green tunic.He didn’t wear the long, darkcappaof a Knight Templar, nor the beard or short hair, but he did bear the red cross above his heart that all knights of the Order wore.His dress marked him as a soldier who sold his sword to the Order.
He found a place to sit, forcing the other knights to scoot down the bench.Something about him arrested her attention and wouldn’t let go.His hair was black—a deep black that when touched by the light of the candle flames appeared almost blue.He was taller than most of the men in the room—certainly taller than her husband.
Occasionally he would raise his eyes from his meal.Once their gazes locked and Madelaine hastily looked away, but could practically feel his stare upon her before taking in the rest of the room.His movements were economical and efficient.He ignored those sitting around him while they threw surreptitious glances at him.
All too soon the evening meal ended.She had not eaten a thing because she’d been so intrigued by the newcomer and resigned herself to a very hungry night until she could break her fast after prime in the morning.
She rose from the table.Her husband hurried away with nary a word to her and she breathed a sigh of relief.Lucien was on the other side of the great hall, appearing to lecture a group of knights, his hands waving in the air.Now would be a good time to escape to her chambers and hope her husband did not remember he had a wife this night.
