Chapter 19
Amaury knew their sole chance of survival was to escape the keep undetected. It might not be that difficult in the midst of such confusion. He immediately noted that the battle was concentrated near the gates and the closed portcullis.
He led Isabella to a ladder, planted against a section of the wall quieter than the rest. She hastened to the summit at his indication and he followed, ducking down as arrows flew over them.
He seized a rope on the ramparts and secured it to the wall, then cast it over the side, before turning to Isabella.
“We will never make it through the gates,” he said by way of explanation and she nodded understanding.
Her doubts were evident, though, as evident as the bruises rising on her neck. “I have never done this,” she whispered, peering over the wall with obvious trepidation.
“I will go first so you can fall upon me,” he said and was treated to a quick smile on her part. A nod and he was over the wall, holding his place as he awaited her. He could only hope that the count’s men did not spot him for he made an excellent target.
Isabella followed, her skirts obscuring his view for a moment, then Amaury heard her gasp aloud.
A guard had seized her from above, his gloved hand firm about her wrist. He opened his mouth to call an alert, but Amaury lunged back to the lip of the wall and punched the man hard in the face.
The guard fell backward, releasing his grip, and Amaury pivoted to find that Isabella, she of the keen wit, had already slipped down the rope.
He met her at the bottom and seized her hand again, urging her to flee toward the count’s forces.
“Ahead of me,” he ordered, even as a cry was raised from the parapet behind them.
“Kill them!” Edmund shouted, emerging from the hall. “Kill the villains fleeing Marnis!”
Half a dozen bolts struck the ground around them then and Isabella caught her breath in fear. Her limp seemed more pronounced but Amaury would not leave her behind, not now.
“Just run,” Amaury said, catching up to her. He would have snatched her up in his arms to carry her, but in that moment, a bolt struck him in the back of the thigh. He stumbled, and forced himself to stagger forward despite the stabbing pain.
Isabella looked back, her expression turning to horror. Amaury gestured for her to continue, for he feared she would halt. Even now, more bolts rained down around them.
Another caught his shoulder, tearing at his sleeve and grazing the skin, and Amaury fell to the ground.
The pain was such that he was not sure he could rise to his feet again, let alone flee to safety.
He closed his eyes as he felt Isabella drop to the ground beside him, her hand closing over his own.
“Go,” he commanded her and felt her shake her head.
“I will not,” she said fiercely. “For I love you, sir, and there is no chance I will abandon you now.”
Amaury could not halt his smile. He opened his eyes to see Ténébreux bearing down upon them.
The destrier wore his full caparisons and armor, making him a fearsome but welcome sight.
The black beast might have breathed fire when his nostrils flared, and he circled behind Amaury with speed.
Several other destriers flanked him, a company of knights defending them from onslaught as they were hauled to safety.
Then one knight lifted his crossbow, moving with such deliberation that Amaury guessed his intent.
He rolled over to watch Roland’s bolt sail through the air, its tip flaming golden fire.
Edmund stood on the high wall, so incensed that he forgot caution and revealed himself clearly.
The bolt was aimed with deadly accuracy and Amaury nodded approval when it sank into Edmund’s chest. That man screamed and fell from the high wall, his garments already aflame.
His cry ended abruptly as the fire spread from him to the wooden walls of Marnis.
The wood was dry and the flames spread with fearsome speed, the curtain wall turning to a barrier of flame in mere moments.
Amaury closed his eyes as the world dimmed around him. He was aware that the blazing flames began to consume Marnis, and that those within the keep began to abandon it. There were no more bolts fired upon them, though chaos claimed the field.
A familiar knight jumped down and forcibly hauled Amaury to Ténébreux’s saddle. “Like a sack of grain,” Amaury complained and his brother laughed.
“Heavier than any such I have known,” Roland said grimly.
“Even without his hauberk,” Philip said with displeasure. “All the way to Outremer and back with nary an injury, and within a fortnight of arriving home, this.”
Amaury smiled at his squire’s evident disgust and gripped the saddle as well as he could. “Isabella,” he whispered but he already felt her weight behind him. She seized a fistful of his stolen tabard and held it fast, even as Roland lashed him to the horse.
“Fear not. I will hold him,” she said with welcome resolve and Amaury let his eyes close in relief.
It was done. The threat against his lady wife was banished, and Montvieux would rise once again. His father, he knew, would have been proud.
And better yet, Isabella loved him. There was a gift beyond expectation.
This time, Rosalie awaited Amaury in the red tent, and Isabella conferred with the healer about her husband’s injuries. They stripped off his garments with the aid of Philip and the healer professed herself relieved when she had examined the wound.
“Missed the bone,” she said and Philip nodded in his relief. “He may limp. He may not run with the same vigor, but if the wound is kept clean, he will live, my lady.”
And that was all the reassurance Isabella needed.
Much later, she took the tidings to the Count de Sant-André, whom she had not met before.
He proved to be a gracious older gentleman with a persistent twinkle in his eyes.
He asked if he might confer with Amaury and, with Philip and Rosalie’s approval, he was welcomed into the red tent.
This he professed to be a marvel, and his company did seem welcome to Amaury.
Between herself and Amaury, the entire scheme of Edmund was laid bare.
They saluted their own success and vowed to feast on the morrow together, then the count left Isabella alone with her husband. It was late and falling dark, the camp becoming quiet beyond the silken walls.
Amaury opened his arms in invitation and she joined him abed, ferociously glad that he had not been more grievously injured.
She lay against him, her one hand curled within his own, and listened to his heartbeat beneath her ear.
She thought her own heart might burst with the vigor of her love for him, and she felt a stab of fear that she could have lost him this day.
Her valiant, fearless, principled knight.
“You should not have come,” she murmured again, feeling responsible for his injuries.
“There was no choice and you know it,” Amaury replied easily. “Only you can cast me from your side.”
Isabella braced herself on her elbow to frown down at him.
He looked deeply untroubled by her expression.
Indeed, his eyes glinted. “I gave instruction that you should not come to Marnis and you ignored it,” she said with mock sternness.
“Do not tell me that you are so concerned with a lady’s desire. ”
Amaury chuckled, looking so weary that her heart clenched. “I would hear it from your own lips.” His eyes opened and he considered her, his gaze that fierce blue. “Speak then, my Isabella. Tell me now to leave you forever and I will rise from this bed and do as you command.”
The very prospect was terrifying.
“I will not,” she said and his smile was immediate.
“I shall have to remain then, and strive to deserve your affection,” he said. “After all, you spurned me twice, my lady,” he said.
“And that is uncommon for you?” She could only imagine that it must be unusual for such a man.
Amaury wound a tendril of her hair around his finger as he thought, his hand so close to her shoulder that she could feel his warmth.
“I suppose I have been fortunate in gaining my desires, at least until we wed,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“But you challenged me, questioned me, and ceded very little, Isabella. I confess I was intrigued as never I had been before.”
“Because I defied you?”
“Aye! With others, I can charm and cajole. With you, every word I uttered only condemned me the more. You were a riddle I wished to solve.” He watched her through his lashes. “Did you truly believe I would not come for you?”
Isabella shook her head, watching how that pleased him.
“I knew you would come. But I could not bear that I might be responsible for your loss,” she confessed, sensing that he waited for her to say more.
“I prayed for your safe return from crusade and when you asked my view of a match between us, I knew you were a man like no other.” She frowned, letting her voice drop.
“I am sorry that I feared to trust in that.”
“And who could blame you for such caution, given what you have known of men.” He held her gaze as he leaned slowly closer and she parted her lips, wanting only his kiss.
He inhaled sharply at the sight then his hands were in her hair and he was leaning over her, kissing her with all the passion she had come to expect from him.
And Isabella, trusting in their new accord, kissed him back, surrendering to her desire for all he was and all he promised.
Long moments later, his lips were against her ear, his warmth surrounding her, and he whispered her name with such ardor that her heart squeezed tightly. “But I entreat you, my lady, please do not spurn me a third time. My pride could not bear it.”
“Your pride!”