Chapter 21 #2
Fear rippled through her, and Marie lay a protective hand over her stomach where her babe rested. If Colyne learned of her pregnancy, he would do whatever it took to claim her as his wife.
“Think of what I told you,” the duke said quietly. “On the morrow I will have your word that you will comply.” He walked away.
Overwhelmed, she watched him go with a confident stride. Once he disappeared into the turret, she wrenched open her door and stumbled inside.
Her maid rushed toward her. “You are ill?”
“Non.” She held up her hand to forestall the woman’s approach. “Please, I need to be alone.”
Felyse scowled. “I told your father it was too soon for you to be about, but he insisted it was your duty to spend time with your betrothed.” She made a tsking sound. “If you ask me, the king is anxious for you to wed.”
The woman’s words chilled Marie further.
“Do not listen to me; worry is making me ramble.” She gave her a comforting smile. “Let me help you to bed and then I will be on my way.”
She remained silent. After her maid left, Marie curled into a tight ball but couldn’t sleep.
Gaston’s harsh words repeated in her mind.
Did her father love her, or had all he’d claimed been a lie?
She hated the doubts, the misgivings that undermined her father’s support, which she’d never questioned before.
And Colyne—he would be thrilled at the news. She easily envisioned him holding their son or daughter, the pride, the love in his eyes as he told their babe stories of the fey. But he would never know they’d created a child.
With a frustrated sigh, she shoved her bed covering aside and rose. There was no way she was going to sleep this night. Unsure of anything, she moved to the window and stared into the night.
A thin film of clouds shielded the stars overhead.
As she started to turn, a movement on the wall drew her attention. Narrowing her gaze, she tried to make out the murky figure. Failed. Someone was hiding in the shadows near an arrow loop.
Why?
An assassination attempt against her father?
Her pulse raced as she studied the covert stranger. Whatever his intention, she must inform the guards of his presence.
As she started to move back, she caught sight of another man hurrying down the wall walk.
Moonlight spilled from a break in the clouds, illuminating the lone figure.
Gaston.
She frowned, surprised by his presence, believing he’d returned to his chamber. Or, as troubled as she by the news he’d imparted, mayhap he couldn’t sleep as well?
Marie steadied her emotions and glanced toward the man hidden in the shadows. As her betrothed approached, the stranger stepped from his hiding place.
He was going to attack Gaston. She started to call out a warning, but as the duke spotted the man, he waved him back into the shadows.
Both men slipped into the shield of darkness.
Unease rippled through her. A planned meeting.
Why? Was Gaston’s rendezvous somehow connected with her abduction?
Shame filled her at the thought, one driven by fear.
If indeed her betrothed was right, she’d lived a lie, her father’s words of love naught but sympathetic offerings from a man who’d tried to appease an unwanted child.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her foundation of love was but a story, conjured up like one of the tales of King Arthur.
King Arthur!
So caught up in her doubts, stunned by the realization of her pregnancy and devastated at losing Colyne, rational thought had fled.
Her heart pounding, Marie bolted to the hearth. Angled on a ledge sat the volume of King Arthur tales, its edges worn from use. She picked up the leather-bound volume.
With unsteady fingers, she flipped through the hand-penned parchment. Through the blur of her tears, she read the inscription.
My dearest, Marie. Your birth is a blessing. You are a daughter who fills me with joy and one whom I welcome into my life, home, and heart. One day, when you are grown, my greatest wish is that you too may be blessed with a child created by love.
Your father, Philip IV
The fragile parchment shook in her fingers. Marie closed the volume and slid it on the ledge, then clenched her fists.
Gaston had lied.
Anger knotted into a hard ball in her chest. The bastard thought he could convince her that she was unwanted, sway her to believe she could ever stop loving Colyne or the child she carried.
Her anger shoved up another notch. The bastard had played on her fears of love, her doubts that any man would want her if not for her royal tie. Before she’d met Colyne, she might have believed his words.
No longer.
Through Colyne’s trust, friendship, and patience, he’d taught her that she was a woman a man could love, not because of the royal link but because she had a good and honest heart. With Colyne, she felt complete.
Marie glanced to where Gaston remained cloistered in the shadows with the stranger. What other devious decisions had he made? Did they extend to her abduction? Grabbing her cloak, she ran out the door.
Mon Dieu, she would find out!
Crouched in the shadows along the wall, Colyne listened to the hushed conversation between Marie’s betrothed and a stranger who’d stood in the back of the great hall during the evening meal.
From the coat of dust clinging to the man’s garb, he’d ridden hard to reach this assignation.
With quiet steps, Colyne edged closer.
He could now move without pain or dizziness, but his recovery did little to ease his troubled mind. Marie’s celebratory dinner this eve had been a potent reminder of her impending marriage, a union that would transpire unless he found evidence linking the duke to her kidnapping.
An owl hooted in the distance. A gust of wind swept past, thick with the scent of rain.
He took in the clouds churning overhead, slowly robbing him of the guiding moonlight. Silver rays faded. Except for a wavering glow of light cast by the torches, blackness shrouded the castle.
The scrape of leather sounded nearby.
Bedamned! He flattened himself against the stone.
Caught within the wind, the soft murmurs of the distant guards and the chirp of crickets filled the night.
Colyne made another slow sweep. Satisfied the sound had come from a distance, he crept closer.
The rustle of clothing sounded from the entrance to the wall walk.
He stilled, his eyes narrowing.
With stealth, a cloaked figure moved from the stairs.
Another gust of wind whipped past. Fragments of moonlight cut through the break in the churning sky. The silver rays exposed several strands of honey-colored hair whipping about the secured hood. The clouds roiling overhead closed, smothering the person in blackness.
Marie!
With care, Marie edged closer to where the duke whispered in the shadows with the stranger, her anger at being made a fool still running hot. She strained to hear their conversation.
“I told you never to come here,” Gaston snapped.
The man shuffled his feet. “Your Grace, I—”
“Silence! If anyone should hear, ’twould cost us both our lives.”
Their lives? Anger melded with apprehension. She pressed closer. “I am sorry,” the stranger replied.
Her betrothed glanced around. As if satisfied no one was about, he faced the man. “Why are you here?”
“With our abduction attempt exposed, the Duke of Renard fears for his life. He beseeches you to arrange his passage back to England immediately.”
“I told him I would take care of matters as soon as it was safe,” Gaston hissed. “Inform him that he is to remain hidden, and I will send word when all the arrangements have been made. You will never visit me here again. Is that clear?”
“Oui, Your Grace.”
Sickened, Marie closed her eyes. Her betrothed had participated in her kidnapping. Damn him, he would pay for his treachery.
Gaston shook his head and lowered his voice.
Marie leaned forward, but their words were too soft for her to understand. Keeping low, she crept closer.
“The Duke of Renard also states the remainder of the payment will be sent once he is safe.”
Her betrothed cursed. “ ’Twas not the agreement we made.”
“I am but a messenger,” the man rushed out, his voice trembling with fear.
“Be gone,” Gaston snarled.
“Aye, Your Grace.”
Mary’s will! If they looked in this direction, they’d see her! Marie turned toward the tower, but her slipper caught against the stone. Her pulse racing, she steadied herself.
“Did you hear something?” the stranger asked.
Moonlight flickered to expose the harsh lines of Gaston’s face. Fury, then macabre satisfaction settled in his eyes, leaving her chilled to the bone. “Marie. ’Tis a pity you have followed me.”