When Love Awaits

Chapter 35

LEONIE directed her escort off the main road and into the woods late that afternoon, despite the dire warnings of Guy who swore it wasn't safe to travel except on the main road. But Leonie was not worried about cutthroats or wild animals. She was buying herself more time, for Rolfe would go directly to Crewel, assuming that was her destination, while this route would take her around about, finally coming from the east to Pershwick. Oh, she would not compound her mistakes by pitting Pershwick against her husband, but hopefully he would think twice before beating her at Pershwick.

They made camp that night in the dense woods. Leonie could not complain, for she had brought it on herself. Wilda did complain, her grumbles continuous.

Rolfe would never forgive her. That thought carried Leonie into sleep that night. Sometime later, when a hand clamped over her mouth brought her awake, her first thought was that Rolfe had found her much sooner than she had anticipated.

She was dragged upward, an arm slipped beneath hers and across her breasts, gripping her firmly against a hard body. She was backed out of camp furtively, seeing by the light of the small fire that the rest of the camp was not disturbed, and that the guard at watch was not where he should have been.

But Rolfe would not take her away this way. He would have arrived with his wrath full-blown and awakened all with his booming voice. But if this was not Rolfe . . .

Leonie began to struggle, but it was too late. The grunt from the man behind her was not loud enough to carry back to camp. Her attempt to scream and to bite her captor's hand only made his grip tighten.

"Settle down, lady, or I will have to put my fist to you."

The gruff voice was speaking French, but it was not the fluid French of the nobility. As soon as she realized that, she realized he was not alone.

"Do we take her to the lord?"

"What did I wait around and snatch her for if not that?" the man behind answered irritably.

"We could keep this one for ourselves."

"That will not put gold in our pockets," was the quick retort.

"But this one is pretty, Derek." A beefy face loomed in front of Leonie.

"What does that matter when we need the pay?"

"We can have both." A third voice spoke. "Your lord will have his fun with her, Derek, so why shouldn't we as well? We took the risk of snatching her. I want her before we turn her over to him."

"Agree, Derek, or we do not leave here," the second man threatened.

The moment was tense. The other two men waited for Derek to decide. And then the quiet was broken by another man who burst through the brush, running.

"Osgar," the new fellow whispered excitedly, "the guard died without making a sound! I did a good job!"

"Quiet your fool brother, Osgar," Derek hissed angrily. "I swear I do not know why I use him."

"Because he does your killing for you," Osgar said smoothly. "Nowwhat about the lady? Does she pleasure us first?"

"Yes, but not here," Derek agreed. "And it must be done quickly. It is a long reach to the castle and her men have horses while we do not."

"We should have killed them all," someone grumbled.

"There were too many, fool. Now let us hurry if we are to stop before we reach the castle."

Leonie was carried along at a near run. She felt numb at first. This could not be real, could it? But the numbness began to wear off as Osgar and the others resumed speaking while they hurried through the woods.

"Will the lady be tortured like the others, Osgar?"

"You talk too much," Osgar growled at his brother.

"Will she?"

"If she does not admit who she is and arrange to ransom herself, yes, she will be tortured."

"Derek watches, doesn't he?"

"Idiot! Derek does the torturing. It is his lord who likes to watch."

Derek laughed, overhearing. "Did you tell him how often you sneaked into the dungeon to watch, too, Osgar?"

There was silence, then Osgar's brother asked, "Will she be kept for long in the dungeon, Osgar?"

"You ask too many questions."

"That merchant was killed even after his man brought the ransom. The merchant and his man were both killed."

"Quiet your brother, Osgar, before I do," Derek said angrily.

Leonie had heard of such happenings, but not since the time of King Stephen when anarchy had prevailed. During King Stephen's time, even the poorest petty lord could collect riches and many did, extorting serf and freemen, even plundering churches. It was a common crime to capture anyone suspected of having even a little wealth. The victims were imprisoned and tortured until they were willing to give up all they possessed. No one was safe in those days, for there was no recourse to a king who was perpetually busy fighting to keep his crown. The true extent of criminality was realized later when all the unlicensed castles—more than a thousand—were ordered dismantled by Henry.

Leonie's fear became overwhelming, as she considered all of what would happen to her when she was turned over to Derek's lord. But even so, those fears receded when the four men stopped, and she recalled what they planned.

Bile rose in her throat when Derek said gruffly, "I need a gag."

"Oho, so you want her too. And here you put up such a fuss—"

"A gag! Quickly!" Derek snapped. "I warn you, we have very little time. She needs to be locked away before her men come looking for her."

"We do not carry rags with us," Osgar grumbled.

"Your shirt will do. Give it over."

The second Derek removed his hand so that one of them could gag her, she let out an ear-piercing scream. It was cut off quickly, the stinking shirt yanked hard across her mouth. The shirt was tied behind her head so tightly, she thought the corners of her mouth would surely rip open.

The moment the gag was secure, Derek shook her hard. Pain shot up her arms where he gripped her.

"Stop, Derek, before you break her neck!" someone warned.

"Do you think they heard her at the castle?" Osgar asked.

"They don't care what happens in the woods," Derek told him.

"Then why are you so angry?"

"We are far enough away from her men, but not if one has awakened and come after her."

"We should have killed them one and all," Osgar said disgustedly.

"There was no knight among them."

"And no sword among us but mine," Derek reminded them with contempt.

"Quiet! I hear something!"

Leonie heard it, too, growing louder by the second, the unmistakable sound of horses charging through the brush. Hope rose inside her, a living thing.

"You are saved for now, lady," Derek rasped angrily, "but I will make you pay for this later." To the others he ordered, "We cannot delay here now. Move quickly, but for God's sake do not make any noise."

"Derek, no," came an alarmed whisper. "There is the meadow to cross yet. We will be seen."

"Not if we wait by the meadow until all is quiet again. They will be spread out looking for her. If one comes upon us, we can kill him."

Leonie was propelled forward again. This time her arms gripped just above the elbows so that she couldn't reach up to pull out her gag. The other three men moved off ahead, but her struggle with Derek slowed him down. She tried jerking out of his hold, she tried stomping on his feet, she tried lifting her feet off the ground to pull him down. He was much stronger and none of it worked. He finally growled and hefted her up under his arm to carry her like a sack of meal.

She began feeling desperate again. The sound of hoof beats receded.

Oh, she would have given her life for a chance to call out!

Derek stopped near a wide clearing that cut through the woods and was exceptionally bright compared to the woodland on all sides of it. The other three men were crouched down by the edge waiting for her and Derek, alert, nerves taut.

"What have you seen?" Derek demanded, scanning the clearing.

"No movement, but I thought I heard another sound down the way."

"Who else heard it?" No answer came, and Derek grunted. "It is as I thought. They will not come this far afield to look for her. We have only to cross the meadow and we will be safe."

"Iwill not feel safe until we are rid of her. This was not such a good idea, Derek. Our usual prey do not have such large escorts."

They moved out, keeping close together. But they were not even halfway across the meadow when a horse and rider moved slowly out from the trees facing them.

"Tell me that is your lord, Derek." Dread filled the voice.

"Of course it is not. He is not such a large man. But do not panic now,"

Derek warned. "This is a full-armored knight. She had no such knight with her."

"Why does he sit there and stare at us?" Osgar asked uneasily. "Why doesn't he move?"

"Wait, he comes now," Derek cautioned. He set Leonie down and shoved her at the others. "Hold her. I may have to fight him."

"Youfighthim?"

"With your help, fool," Derek hissed just as the large destrier came abreast of them. "How may we serve you, my lord?"

"Show me what you have there."

"Just my lord's runaway wife. We are often sent to find her and bring her back. She is given to mental affliction."

"Strange. She looks so like my own wife. Of course, if I thought the lady of Kempston was being rough-handled, I would not like it."

Derek seemed to lose his tongue completely.

The large knight on the destrier eyed the rough man, waiting for him to speak.

"I think we are meeting the new lord of Kempston," Derek whispered.

"But the Black Wolf now has Kempston. You mean—"

"Yes. I think—I think this is his wife we have here."

"God's mercy, look at her eyes!" the third man cried. "She knows him!"

Osgar's brother started running before the words were out. The huge destrier cut off his flight in seconds, the flash of a blade felling the man.

The bloodcurdling war cry that followed set the other three to running, all in different directions. But it was only moments before the war-horse had run down two, the heavy sword following swiftly.

Osgar ran back the way they had come and would have escaped into the cover of trees before the destrier could cross the clearing, but another knight rode toward him from those woods and dispatched him with a spear.

Leonie could not move. The bodies of her four abductors were strewn around her, but she felt no relief. She was safe—yet not safe. A new ordeal was beginning.

"Finish here, Piers, and then send the men back to camp." As Rolfe spoke, more of his men rode into the clearing. "If one of those men is still alive, I want to know where they were going with her."

"Are you . . . ?" Piers began.

"I will be along shortly—with my wife."

Leonie had removed her gag, but she was too frozen with terror to speak.

Rolfe dismounted and came to stand before her. His face was hidden beneath his helmet, and she could not tell what he was thinking. Silence held her.

Finally, he asked, "Did they hurt you?"

How coldly formal he was! "They—meant to, but the sound of your horses frightened them." She looked directly up at him then, her eyes imploring. "My lord, I would speak with you—"

"Oh, we will speak, my lady. Do not doubt it."

Leonie gasped as he gripped her arm and propelled her toward his horse. He mounted, pulling her up into his lap. They rode off toward the woods, then—not toward camp, but away from it.

Leonie was in a misery of dread. She did not want Rolfe to hurt her.

But he was going to beat her. Why else would he take her away from the others?

It did not seem as if he would ever stop, and she wanted it over and done with. She was being allowed too much time to be overcome by her fear. The farther he took her away from the others, the worse became her imagined punishment.

They came to another clearing, the ruins of an old tower centered in it.

Rolfe rode toward this, stopping by the crumbling stones to set Leonie on her feet. The place was ominous, stark in the moonlight, but not as ominous as her husband dismounting. He removed his helmet and his gauntlets with slow deliberation. He moved toward her and stopped a foot away, his face hard.

"Who told you I was unfaithful?"

She started, disbelieving. The anger was there. His features were harsh with anger, too, his lips in a hard, straight line, but why was he asking such a thing?

"I . . . do not understand."

"What did you tell Henry?"

"I—" She gasped, recalling the conversation she had had with the king the day before. Anger rose swiftly. "He had no right to repeat my words!"

"The king's rights are not under discussion. Who told you I was unfaithful?" Rolfe asked again.

"No one had to tell me," she retorted. "Do you think I cannot see with my own eyes? Lady Amelia is not your ward. She was never your ward."

"She means nothing to me," he said swiftly.

"Is that supposed to set everything right?" Leonie cried. "A man will rut with the serving wench at his neighbor's house, and she means nothing to him, but that does not mean he is faithful to his wife! He is only more discreet than a man who keeps a mistress under his own roof—for all to see." She was close to tears.

"Damn me, Leonie, I have not touched another woman since we wed!"

That only stirred her anger. "You touchedme!Have you forgotten you would have taken me to bed at Pershwick without knowing who I was?"

"So!" He looked at her hard, his eyes probing. "You still have not forgiven me for that."

"I mention it to prove the falseness of your words, my lord. Youhavetouched other women. The fact that Lady Amelia was still sharing your chamber when I was brought back to Crewel proves it."

He came toward her then with a low growl, but Leonie stood her ground. Even when his fingers bit into her arms and he lifted her off the ground so that they were face-to-face, she did not flinch.

"Tell me why it matters to you, madame." Rolfe's voice was dangerously calm. "Did you not say that you did not care how many women I bedded?"

"With discretion."

"I did not realize there were conditions," he said sardonically. "So you truly donotcare?"

A lump rose in her throat. "I do not."

He set her down and turned away. Leonie bit her lips, despising herself.

"Why do you want me to care?" Her voice turned soft.

"A wife should care," he said quietly.

"A wife should not be insulted with the presence of her husband's mistress."

Rolfe swung back around, his body taut with anger. "There was never any insult intended. I have told you she is no longer my mistress."

"If you wanted me to believe that, my lord, you would send her away."

"Do not ask that of me, Leonie."

She swallowed her pride. "Iamasking. If she means nothing to you, then you have no reason to keep her."

"She does not . . . want to go," he said tightly.

He might as well have struck her. "You put her wants above mine?"

She waited for him to speak, to, promise to send Amelia away. She waited, and when he did not speak, she said, "Then all you will have from me, Rolfe d'Ambert, is my contempt."

"I will have more than that, madame." He dragged her to him, his mouth coming down hard on hers, his kiss leaving her weak and shaken.

She could not let him overpower her again, not let him bring forth those impossible feelings.

"I hate you," Leonie whispered, the words sounding less than convincing even to herself.

"Then I will love you despite your hatred."

He kissed her again, and the traitorous flame leaped within her, drawing her to him despite everything. She fought and fought, and what she was fighting against wasn't him, but her own desire.