Chapter 15
By the time the skies brightened the following morning, Isabella was exhausted.
She had not slept at all, nor had she eaten much.
Only the bread Simon brought had been safe to consume, according to the poison stone.
Given that revelation, she had not asked him who might have poisoned her father – it might well have been Simon.
Or someone could have interfered with the food intended for her before he carried it to the solar.
Isabella’s fingers were sore and her back ached, but the chests in the treasury were all empty.
She locked them away all the same, then donned her dress.
It was heavier than it had been, but the cloth was sufficiently strong to hold the weight.
She spun in place and there was no clatter of coins to reveal her secret.
Yet again, she was relieved to have no maid.
She was braiding her hair when she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
Amaury.
Relief flooded through her with such power that her knees weakened.
She left the solar to cross the corridor and look out over the long road that led from the forest, her heart leaping at the sight of the knight in the fore of the arriving company.
She would have had to have been struck blind not to recognize the dark destrier or the deep blue of the lead rider’s tabard.
Amaury rode like a returning champion and Isabella’s heart soared at the sight.
Let him come for Marnis. She would surrender it to him willingly if it meant they two could remain together. He protected her. He listened to her. He came at her summons.
It was more than she had ever been able to expect from another.
With Amaury’s arrival, she would have one ally, and a formidable one.
She would trust him fully and what would be, would be.
Two squires, relieved of the burden of baggage, carried the standards of Montvieux aloft, flanking that rider. A second knight rode behind Amaury and Isabella thought it had to be either Luc or Thierry.
She turned to find Simon awaiting her at the summit of the stairs, his expression inscrutable.
She was too tired to explore the riddle of her father’s death.
Amaury would help her with the pursuit of justice, she knew.
“My lord husband arrives,” she informed the seneschal, unable to keep from smiling.
“I am glad of it, my lady.”
“As am I, Simon. As am I.”
The older man nodded, then gestured to the stairs. Isabella stood tall and proud as she descended to the hall, keenly aware that those awaiting her fell silent at her appearance.
“My lord husband arrives,” she said, then raised her voice. “Prepare to welcome the Lord de Montvieux.”
“Do not be a fool, Isabella. He comes for Marnis, not for you,” Faydide hissed behind her like a snake that would not be silenced.
Isabella ignored her.
“He is not the Lord de Montvieux,” Mallory muttered. “He has not the seal.”
“And who does?” Isabella asked softly. “My father did not.”
Mallory’s gaze brightened. “How do you know as much, my lady?”
Isabella smiled. “Perhaps his treasures were stolen.” Did Mallory’s gaze flick? She turned a glance upon Edmund, who bowed before her as if he was loyal to her alone. “Perhaps Edmund knows more of my father’s secrets,” she said, and watched alarm dawn in that man’s eyes.
She was right that there was no one she could trust in this hall.
Isabella could feel the weight of Mallory’s survey when she crossed the hall, but she did not speak to him again.
The siblings from Haniers were present, though she suspected they would depart later this day.
She was keenly aware that there was unrest in the ranks of those within the walls of Marnis and hoped that Amaury’s presence would restore stability.
He had a natural air of command that could only be of aid.
It was a fair morning, the skies blue and the sun warm.
Isabella waited on the steps that descended to the bailey, heart in mouth, as Amaury’s party drew near.
She called for the portcullis to be raised so he would not have to halt, and the gatekeeper heeded her command.
She almost held her breath until Amaury was through the gates.
Her heart thundered with such vigor as he rode closer that she was not certain she could speak.
He halted his horse, staring up at her. She knew she had never seen a man so magnificent. His mail was polished and his tabard was a marvel of embroidered silk.
“I come at your summons, my lady,” he said, his voice carrying clearly to all.
“And I am glad of it, my lord,” she replied. “I instruct every soul within these walls to swear themselves to you this very day, before my father is laid to rest.”
A ripple passed through the company at that, and she saw Amaury’s gaze brighten.
She knew he had noticed the blue of her gown and his gaze had lingered upon his own cloak, now fastened to her shoulder.
His lips curved slightly, his satisfaction in his greeting so obvious that Isabella found herself smiling in return.
“I am yours to command, my Lady de Marnis,” Amaury bowed his head, as whispers passed through the company. Then he glanced up and smiled at her, his gaze warm.
He was the most irresistible man – and with her father gone, with the treasury of Montvieux in her possession, Isabella had no reason to resist Amaury de Montvieux any longer.
She offered her hand to him and descended the steps, unable to completely quell a sudden shadow of dread on her heart.
Amaury could not restrain his satisfaction when he saw Isabella. She was dressed in the blue of his house, with his cloak over her shoulders despite the warmth of the morning, as if she could not contrive of a way to grant him a message more clear.
She believed him.
Which meant the stone had changed hue, and that she knew her father had been poisoned. He hoped that that her life had not been imperiled as well, and he could only be glad that he had surrendered the stone to her possession.
That she demanded all at Marnis to pledge to him was a gift unexpected. They would be Lord and Lady de Marnis, united together and Amaury could not be more honored by her trust.
Isabella’s eyes shone on this day and she stood tall, radiating a newfound confidence. If she had been magnificent before, she was doubly splendid on this day.
Aye, he liked it well that she wore blue – and that she was hale.
His lady wife.
Amaury shed his glove and offered his hand to Isabella, smiling at the weight of her hand within his. He met her gaze and watched a flush touch her cheeks, then lifted her fingertips to his lips. “My lady.”
“My lord,” she said, her lashes sweeping down as he kissed the back of her hand. “You are welcome, sir.”
He could not miss that the signet ring of Marnis was on her finger, right beside the small gold ring he had placed there.
The sight reminded him of her inheritance, and the importance of ceremony.
He was at Marnis. If he wished to show her that he respected this legacy as her own, there was but one way to do it.
Amaury dropped to one knee before Isabella. He released her hand and drew his sword, laying it across his palms as he bowed his head before her. “My lady, I pledge myself to your service, this day and forever after.”
The company gasped. Then a whisper passed through the company like wildfire.
Isabella caught her breath, but her delight in his gesture was most clear.
“Sir, I gladly accept your pledge,” she said, taking his sword.
She had to grip the hilt with both hands, but she lifted it with grace, tapping the blade on his left shoulder and then his right.
“I welcome you to my service as my most favored knight of all.” She smiled at him and Amaury smiled back, losing himself in the darkness of her eyes.
“There could be no greater privilege,” he murmured. Then she returned his sword and he sheathed it anew, waiting on his knees while she bent to kiss him on one cheek and then the other.
“I thank you for coming on this day,” she whispered.
“I could do naught else,” he replied in a whisper and their gazes clung for a potent moment. “Your will is my desire.”
“Amaury,” she whispered. Her lips parted as if she would say something more, but Amaury stood then, catching her shoulders in his hands, then captured her mouth beneath his own.
She kissed him back to his delight, a wild and impetuous kiss that sent that increasingly familiar fire through him.
He was so beguiled that he had no care for any other detail.
There was only Isabella and her shining eyes, the taste of her sweet lips beneath his own.
When their kiss broke, they studied each other as if they were alone.
Suddenly Isabella’s eyes widened as she looked over Amaury’s shoulder. “Nay!” she whispered and flung herself against him. She landed against one shoulder, spinning him off-balance and he nigh stumbled.
In that moment, Isabella’s weight fell fully against him and Amaury knew aught was amiss. He heard her gasp and felt the warmth of her blood running over his hand. He looked with dismay to find a bolt buried in her shoulder, less than a handspan from her heart.
“Isabella!” he whispered, but she fainted in his arms.
Amaury spun to find that Luc aimed at the summit of the wall. His companion knight loosed a bolt. A bowsman on the high wall was struck squarely in the throat. The man fell backward, arms outstretched, and vanished into the ditch on the far side of the walls.
He had been wearing Marnis’ colors.
He had been ordered to kill Isabella.
They had to flee! Amaury gathered Isabella into his arms. A hue and cry rose within the bailey, guards surging toward the party from Montvieux. She needed a healer, but Amaury dared not rely upon their safety within Marnis. His company drew the horses into a tight circle around him.