Chapter Three #4
It was a rather strong thing to say coming from a genteel lady. “You do not wish to know what I did with him?” he asked.
“Nay.”
There was coldness to her answer, something he was pleased to see.
He’d seen some women, even after being beaten by their husbands, still have some feeling for them, but not Lysabel.
It was clear that she held nothing but contempt for the man who’d made her life a living hell for so many years.
But her excuse for not letting the world in on that shame was because she wanted to protect her father’s honor.
It wasn’t because she was weak or afraid – it was simply to protect the man she loved.
Strength.
The woman had strength that was rare. Trenton had noticed it the night he’d come for Benoit, that even beaten and broken, Lysabel still had a dignity her husband couldn’t take from her.
That was the Wellesbourne breeding, but it was also something more.
Quite simply, Lysabel was just a strong woman in general.
To be married to the devil de Wilde for all those years, she had to be.
How on earth did he not notice this strong woman those years ago? Or perhaps, it was simply something that developed after years of abuse – perhaps, she’d had to learn to be strong. In either case, Trenton’s respect for her grew.
In truth, Trenton knew a little something about abused women.
The woman he called his mother wasn’t the woman who gave birth to him, but she was the woman who married his father and treated Trenton as if he were her very own son.
Trenton had been eight years of age when he’d first met Lady Remington Stoneley.
Although his father had tried to refrain from telling him too much about her past, and of her first husband, Trenton knew several things that her son, Dane, had told him – mostly that Dane’s biological father had been an evil bastard who had abused Remington and her sisters terribly.
The man had been an enemy of the crown and had ended up in prison in the Tower of London, only to escape and try to return to the life he had before he’d been imprisoned.
That meant reclaiming his wife, and Trenton remembered well the events leading up to the showdown between Gaston de Russe and Sir Guy Stoneley.
Being young, but determined to help save Remington from the clutches of her evil husband, Trenton and Dane had set out to protect her, only to be captured by Guy himself.
In the end, Guy had been killed, and Remington had married Gaston.
She’d been happily married to the man for many years now, and he treated her with the respect inherent to a man deeply in love, but Trenton still remembered witnessing some of what the woman had been forced to endure at the hands of an abuser.
Therefore, it made him more sympathetic to Lysabel than most, simply because he understood something about the abuse of a woman.
“Then I will not tell you what became of him,” he said after a moment. “You need not be troubled over it.”
Lysabel nodded, in appreciation he thought, and she didn’t seem willing to linger over the subject.
“I will not be,” she said with some courage.
“It is over and done now, although I will admit that I can still hardly believe it. I keep thinking that I shall wake up and this will all have been a dream.”
He smiled wryly. “It is no dream, I promise. I was there.”
“I know. I saw you.”
He snorted. “And I do not make it a habit of appearing in women’s dreams,” he said. Then, he sobered unnaturally fast. “Unless I have appeared in your sister’s dreams. Did Rosamunde ever dream of me?”
Lysabel burst out laughing. “When she was fourteen years of age, mayhap,” she said. “But nowadays, I do not think her husband would like it very much.”
He scoffed. “I fear no man,” he said. “Wait – who did she marry? I may have to amend that statement.”
Lysabel continued laughing. “Leo de Lara,” she said. “He is from the great Marcher Lords of de Lara. Do you know of them?”
Trenton nodded. “I do,” he said. “I did not know she married into that family.”
“She did.”
“And the rest of your siblings? Don’t tell me they are all married away, too.”
Lysabel shook her head. “Not all of them,” she said.
“Rosamunde is married, but my brothers, James and Thomas, are not. My other sister, Emeline, is married, as is my brother, Daniel. But my youngest brother, William, will probably never marry. Papa says he has too much of my Uncle Luke in him. Luke was killed at Bosworth right before I was born. Did you ever know him?”
Trenton shook his head. “Regretfully, I did not,” he said. “But I well remember your brother, William, with his red hair and loud voice. I can remember your father trying to tame his wild streak, even when he was a young lad.”
Lysabel grinned. “He still has that wild streak, so I am told.”
“He will outgrow it.”
“According to my mother, my father does not think so. God help us, we shall have a wild Wellesbourne on our hands.”
Trenton smiled, gazing into the woman’s eyes and feeling a jolt when he did.
Like a spark, a hint of something that made his belly quivery, just a bit.
He wanted to continue staring into her eyes, but something about her big blue eyes made him feel like she was sucking him right in, dragging him into that blue oblivion.
He almost couldn’t look away, and it was an effort to do so.
“Even if that is true, he has the Wellesbourne soul, and that means his character is inherently good,” he said, tearing his gaze away because he was starting to feel strange.
Unnerved… giddy, even. “And, mayhap, this has been enough of a conversation for one night. Thank you for speaking to me, my lady. Again, I am sorry to have taken you away from your meal, but I am glad we have had this time to speak in private. When I last left you, it was under stressful conditions. I hope you understand that, as someone who has known you your entire life, I simply couldn’t walk away.
I had to return to make sure you were well. ”
Another declaration she could have construed as chivalrous.
Caring, even. God’s Bones, Lysabel hadn’t experienced a man’s caring in years and had no idea how to respond to it.
It was sweet, and endearing, but there was also something strangely uncomfortable about it.
Years under Benoit’s abuse had left her wondering if she was good enough to even be cared for in such a way.
“I am well,” she assured him. “Thanks to you, I am well and so are my children. What we owe you, Trenton, I fear I can never repay.”
Trenton was starting to feel very strange as he looked at her, something he’d never experienced before.
The more he looked into her eyes, the more his gaze drifted over the curve of her face, the lines of her figure…
something was happening inside of him that he didn’t recognize.
His initial discomfort at it had turned into something else, too, something that made his insides feel quivery.
If he hadn’t known any better, he would swear there was some interest in the lady on his part.
But, no…
It is fatigue, he told himself. He’d ridden hard the past few days, so it was logical that his body was starting to revolt. All he needed was rest.
But all he wanted to do was stay and talk to Lysabel.
He had to get out of there.
“I do not expect you to repay me,” he said.
“I would not want you to. What I did, I did because the king ordered me to do it. I did it because it was the right thing to do. But returning to make sure you had fared well in the wake of everything was my own idea. I owe your father too much to have behaved any other way.”
Lysabel smiled faintly. “Mayhap someday, when he is very old, we shall tell my father what happened with Benoit,” she said.
“But until that time, I will tell him what I have told everyone else – that my husband left Stretford one night and never returned. Promise me that is all you will ever tell him, too.”
Trenton nodded. “I already swore I would,” he said. “You needn’t worry, my lady. Your secret is safe.”
Lysabel gazed at the man, feeling more comfort than she’d ever known in her life with his massive presence. It was true, he’d been a terrifying and intimidating young man, but she didn’t feel that way about him any longer. He’d saved her and all she could feel when she looked at him was comfort.
Safe.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. Then, she took a deep breath, her manner brightening. “Now, I am sure you must be famished. Will you join my daughters and me for a meal? I would very much like them to meet an old family friend.”
Trenton thought that sounded rather attractive.
A naturally solitary man, who ate and slept alone except when he was working with his team, the thought of sharing a meal with Lysabel and her daughters did not distress him.
In fact, his inclination to leave the woman, to get away from her, because of the odd feelings she seemed to be stirring in him was weakened by her invitation.
Trenton wasn’t a weak man by nature, but when it came to any kind of emotion, something he kept very closely protected, he wasn’t as adept at controlling it as he should be.
He could feel himself slipping.
“I would be… honored,” he said after a moment. “I should like to meet Matthew’s granddaughters.”
Lysabel was pleased. “Good,” she said, leading him towards the chamber door. “Cissy looks just like him, but Cinny takes after her father’s side of the family. She is quiet, more reserved. I am sure they will be very happy to meet you.”
Very happy to meet the man that killed their father, Trenton thought. Of course, they wouldn’t know it, and probably never would, but he realized as he followed Lysabel back towards the hall, listening to her chatter, that he didn’t accept her invitation to sup to meet her daughters.
He did it to be around her.
He was slipping further…