To her thinking, Amaury made a poor choice, for he failed to realize the true nature of her kin. His new vassals would all be dead before the Yule, if his brothers continued their disruptive activities. Would even Amaury be lost? He might be, if he failed to restrain his brothers. Her father would blame him fully for the actions of any man beneath his command.
She caught her breath at the prospect of widowhood – no less of raising Amaury’s child at Marnis. What a life that child was likely to have!
Frowning, she stood, too agitated to sit at leisure.
To her surprise, she found Amaury immediately before her. Was he attentive or glad of the prospect of her absence?
“Doubtless you find our reunion dull,” he said with a slight bow to her. “And I apologize for being so fulsome with my brothers on our wedding night. You might prefer to retire, for I would ask them for more news of what has transpired.” Though there was consideration in his manner, she heard that steel in his tone. Isabella understood that her presence, even in silence, was not desired at this time.
He wanted to ask about the destruction of Montvieux and the death of his father, and he did not wish for her present to hear whatever his brothers confided – or to encourage their silence.
Stung, Isabella offered his dagger. He slipped it into the scabbard on his belt, then she turned away, not expecting that he would escort her to the tent. When he matched his steps to hers, she was startled by his courtesy, then felt compelled to grant a warning.
“Your brothers play a trick that may have a high price,” she said quietly. “Denis is not inclined to overlook a jest made at his expense.”
“Fear not,” he replied with confidence. “We will take his destrier back to Marnis on the morrow, and I will apologize for their deed.”
Amaury’s surety was undeserved and she spared him a glance of frustration. He was sufficiently perceptive to notice, which she had not expected.
“What is amiss?” he asked. “What have I done?”
“You have erred,” she said, unable to hold her tongue. “You treat their provocation as a diversion, not as the threat it poses to all of us. Denis will not forget such a slight. He will insist upon vengeance.”
Now Amaury frowned. “Why? The deer was from Montvieux. It is not such a heavy price to reclaim it. And his horse is unhurt, his harness intact. As I said, I will return both on the morrow and all will be right.”
“Nay, it will not be. Denis has been insulted,” Isabella countered. “Plus, he has been made to look weak before others. There will be gossip in the hall at Marnis this night about his failure to defend what is his own, and he will resent it mightily. He will be teased about walking home, if indeed he did, and he will be livid as a result of that indignity.Someonewill have to pay the price.”
“You worry overmuch,” Amaury said, his tone soothing – as if she were the fool.
“Iknowhim,” she countered, her voice rising. “I understand him and I grant you warning that this incident will never be forgotten. I am not the fool in this instance, for I do not ignore good advice freely given.”
Still Amaury looked unconvinced, and she flung out a hand. “What more would you lose? Already, your legacy is no more than ash and wind. Your servants, guards and villeins are gone, your treasury is empty, your opportunities to rebuild the holding are nigh none at all. Do you savor the challenge ofinsurmountable obstacles before yourself? Or were the sons of Montvieux all born witless?”
Amaury’s eyes flashed blue fire then and he folded his arms across his chest. “It seems you find your tongue, my lady.”
“It seems you have lost any sense you possessed!” she replied with heat. She gestured to his brothers, who listened openly. “Denis will hunt them to the ground, and if you defend them, you will be lost along with them. You will all join your father in the crypt of Montvieux, likely before the Yule, perhaps even before the harvest, and then what?”
“I have no doubt you will tell me.”
Isabella could not halt her tirade now that it had begun. “I will be widowed, perhaps with your seed taken root in my womb. If you do not care for your own survival or my welfare, then think of that child, the grandson of my father’s avowed enemy, being raised in my father’s abode. If you think that Montvieux will rise again, tall and proud, beneath that child’s administration, you, sir, should think again. He or she will be crushed, and truly will become a minion of Marnis. My father will take great pleasure in that exercise, I promise you. Is that the dream for which you would surrender your own life?”
Amaury’s manner was forbidding. “I ask again, my lady, what you know of my father’s death.”
“He died in his sleep, as old men are wont to do.”
“He was poisoned,” Amaury said with conviction.
Isabella stared at him. “You cannot know this. It has been three months.”
“I can and I do. Lothair is a healer most skilled.”
Isabella shook her head, unconvinced. “No healer is so skilled as this. Only a witch could divine such a detail with her sorcery, and he is no witch.”
“Lothair is so skilled.” Amaury’s gaze flicked, though, a sign that he fabricated a tale, and that hint infuriated Isabella.
“You concoct a tale, sir, to justify your brothers’ deeds, when you were the one to ask for honesty between us,” she accused. “You make an accusation so you might have a crime to lay at my father’s door. You would provoke a fight, and there is peril aplenty in this, my lord.”
“There is truth in it as well.”
