“I know you feel honor-bound to do this,” she said, “but I will not let you.”
He was chivalrous enough not to show relief. But perhaps he did not yet believe she meant it.
“Do not fret,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “The king will blame me, not you. I’ll not lie to you, he will be angry. Quite angry, for a time. But all will be well in the end, I promise.”
“You shall not speak to the king about me.”
Stephen drew his brows together. “Isobel, surely you know wemustmarry.”
He did not call her “love” now.
“I know no such thing,” she answered, her voice tight. “If bedding a woman meant you must wed her, then you would have a great many wives by now.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the easy, familiar Stephen was gone. The man glaring at her was the other Stephen—the dangerous one who would ride into shooting arrows or throw a blade into a man’s eye.
“We shall marry as soon as—”
Stephen stopped at the sound of someone calling his name. Isobel turned to see François running toward them down the corridor.
“Stephen,” François said between gasps of breath, “Madame de Champdivers says you must come at once. She has something you want.”
Isobel’s blood turned to ice. She would be a fool to risk all and marry this man. Between his hopeless love for his brother’s wife and his constant affairs, there would be no end to her suffering. He would crush her heart worse than her father had.
“I shall find you when I return, and we shall talk,” Stephen said, his tone as hard as granite. “And then I shall go to the king.”
She jerked her arm away and glared at him.
“We shall do what is right here, Isobel.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Ithought you would never come,” Linnet scolded Stephen as she let him and François into Isobel’s chamber. “You must save her from that horrid man.”
Stephen sighed. At least the twins were on his side. Isobel had been so angry when he tried to apologize for not yet speaking to the king. Damn, he should have stayed and talked with her instead of going on that wild-goose chase.
Claudette had sent François to fetch him after overhearing de Roche and Marie de Lisieux having a furious argument. As Claudette passed by a window in the Old Palace—Stephen did not ask Claudette what she was doing there—she noticed de Roche and Marie in the garden below. Claudette caught only a few words of the argument, but she heard Marie say both Stephen’s name and “abbey.”
Stephen tried telling Claudette that, by now, everyone in the castle knew of the attack. But Claudette was certain Marie knew something. And she was equally certain that Stephen was the only one who could worm it out of her.
When he finally tracked Marie down, she was pleased to see him. Too pleased. He did not believe Marie was involved in planning the attack, but she did know something. He was not willing, however, to go to bed with her to find out what. After all, he was almost a married man.
Whether his wife-to-be knew it or not.
Where in the hell was Isobel? It was late; they had no more time to waste. His head was throbbing long before he heard voices outside the door.
The twins ran to meet Isobel at the door.
“François, ’tis nice to see you,” Isobel said as she came in. She sounded tired.
“I must go with François,” Linnet said as she and her brother scurried past Isobel.
“Linnet!” Isobel called as the door closed behind them. Isobel collapsed onto a stool and buried her face in her hands.
Stephen felt himself softening toward her, but he fought it. He must be firm with her.
When he stepped into the circle of light from the lamp on the table next to her, she looked up, startled. She looked so lovely he could not speak.
“Did you get what you wanted from Madame de Champdivers?” Isobel snapped her mouth closed, as if the words had slipped out before she could stop them.
