“I am instructed to give you this,” Thierry said. “The lady believed its contents were yours by right.”
It was a small plain box, carved of wood, its lid secured with a lock. It rested easily on Amaury’s gloved palm. It could not contain much, given its size, and it was not particularly heavy.
“Perhaps it is empty,” he said and Thierry’s expression turned skeptical.
“Then she has given all for naught, and I believe, Amaury, that your lady wife is not so witless as that.”
“All for naught?” the count echoed softly as ice claimed Amaury’s innards.
Thierry offered a cord to Amaury, a familiar one with three keys strung upon it. The very sight sent a pang through Amaury for he recognized it well. “I last saw this in my lady wife’s care,” he managed to say. Aye, against her bare skin.
All for naught.
“Aye,” Thierry acknowledged. “She entrusted it to me.”
“Where is she?”
“I cannot say. I suspect she is within Château Marnis.”
Roland swore and spun away.
Amaury strove to command his temper. “You left her?”
“I did as she instructed, Amaury. She insisted it had to be thus, for your sake.”
“You did not see her fate?”
“I did not fully do her bidding,” Thierry admitted. “I saw her struck but I do not think she was killed.”
Struck? Some villain hadstruckIsabella?
“As soon as she was injured, I hastened back here.” Thierry frowned, his dislike of that choice more than clear. “She bade me ride, Amaury. She said the prize had to be defended. No matter her fate, I could not make her choice a worthless one.” He flung out his hands. “He rode with four warriors. I could not have saved her alone.”
“Who?” Amaury demanded, his voice as cold as ice.
“Mallory de Sancerre,” Thierry said heavily and the count caught his breath. “She said they would not kill her so long as they thought she was the sole one who knew the location of the prize.”
“God in Heaven,” the count murmured.
Amaury could only hope that Isabella had been right. He thought of Rosalie’s suspicions about Isabella’s leg and feared she was in jeopardy again. He felt ill she was in danger and without his aid.
Thierry lifted the cord of keys. “The smallest one, she thought.”
And yet again, Isabella was right. That key fit smoothly into the lock and turned with the smallest of efforts. The lid sprang open of its own accord and Amaury stared at two brass seals nestled into the velvet inside. The box had been made to hold one, the seal of Marnis, which was nestled in the base of the box. But the seal of Montvieux had been placed into the box as well, its size ensuring that the box only closed with an effort. There was the reason the lid had opened so readily: it was too full and the hinges strained.
Amaury lifted the seal of Montvieux, turning it so all could see the insignia cast upon its face. ’Twas only then that he saw his father’s signet ring secured beneath the seals.
“She bade me remind you that you held your heart’s desire,” Thierry said quietly.
His father had been killed for this prize, and Amaury now held it again, thanks to Isabella. The treasure he had sought was in his possession, but he would not permit it to be at the cost of the true prize, his lady wife.
The seal he had desired above all else was meaningless if holding it meant the loss of Isabella.
It was late to recognize that his dawning love was but a pale shadow of the full truth. He understood his father now as never he had before, and realized that no risk could ever be too great if Isabella’s welfare hung in the balance.
Thierry must have guessed his thoughts. “She is certain you will be killed if you pursue her, Amaury. She had not a singledoubt that you could not leave Marnis alive. She entreated me to persuade you to be content with this.”
Amaury believed Thierry, though he could not endure that Isabella might pay any price to ensure his survival, much less the achievement of his goal.
