Roche laughed aloud, appearing to be genuinely amused. “But he did ‘enjoy her company’ in private. The hour they spent together was in his bedchamber at the Palais.”
“Since Sir Stephen is neither married nor betrothed,” she said through her teeth, “he is free to do as he pleases.”
De Roche laughed again. “You are mistaken if you think betrothal or marriage will cause a man to forgo other pleasures.”
A courtesan. Stephen went to a courtesan right after leaving her.
De Roche cupped her cheek, forcing her attention back to him. “My betrothal will not stop me from taking you.”
His words made no sense.
He ran his hands down her arms and encircled her wrists. “You look puzzled, Isobel.”
The heat in his eyes told her what he wanted from her. With Linnet safely away, she could try to put him off.
“The banns have not yet been read thrice,” she said.
He forced her back until her heels struck the wall. Holding her wrists against the wall on either side of her head, he leaned down until his nose nearly touched hers.
“The banns? The banns?” She felt the moisture of his breath on her face as he spat the words out. “Did you believe I would marry a woman so beneath me?”
He released her and spun away. “Me, a de Roche! I am blood relation to the greatest families of France! My wealth is ten times that of your father’s.”
Isobel rubbed her wrists as he stormed up and down the room, ranting. She was good and truly frightened now.
“Marriage to you would bring me no titles, no land. A pittance of a dowry. And yet your king thought I should be grateful—” He was so angry he choked on the word. “Grateful, because you are anEnglishnoblewoman.”
He stopped his pacing. A cold stillness settled over him that frightened her more than his ranting. As he started toward her, a shiver ran up her spine.
“I shall make your father pay a ransom three times the paltry sum he offered as dowry,” he said, jabbing the point of his forefinger against her chest. “And while I wait for him to pay it, I shall make you my whore.”
“But we are betrothed!” Her voice shook, despite her effort to keep it steady. “I cannot be your… your…”
“My English whore.”
Why was he talking ransom and saying such horrid things to her? “You know very well that if you take me to bed, I will be your wife in the eyes of both the church and the law.”
“That would be true,” he said, speaking slowly, “if I did not already have a wife.”
“A wife? You have a wife?” She shook her head from side to side, unable to take it in. “You cannot. It is not possible.”
“I assure you, it is. I made a very advantageous match with a young lady whose family is close to the Dauphin. Since her father was not entirely… supportive… of the marriage, we wed in secret shortly before I came to Caen.”
“Then why did you come to Caen?”
“What better way to persuade King Henry of my loyalty than to agree to a marriage alliance?” de Roche said with a shrug. “I never intended to go through with it.”
She was too shocked to speak.
“Your friend Robert was no more anxious to settle the marriage contract than I, so it was easy to put Henry off.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I needed but a few weeks more.”
“But you made a formal pledge to me,” she said. “Before witnesses. Before the king.”
“I admit Henry surprised me,” he said. “He cornered me before I had a chance to slip out of Caen. I had no choice but to go through the sham betrothal.”
How could any man be so wholly lacking in honor? And she, what had she done?
“Is that not bigamy?” Was it? Was she guilty of the sin, as well? “And what of the other lady? I cannot think she or her family will be pleased with the news of a second betrothal.”
