“Nay, there cannot be. If you believe your father’s passing was unnatural, then you deceive yourself to no good end. He died, as old men do.” She retreated a few steps, hating that he wished to fabricate an accusation against her family. She eyed him, noting his resolute manner. “You invite disaster in this, sir. I should flee your side now, before your seed does root. I should save that child from what I know will be his or her fate.”
“You should heed your lord husband,” Amaury said softly, his gaze vivid blue. “We will ride to Marnis on the morrow. We will take the horse and I will apologize on my brothers’ behalf.”
“Better to say you found it wandering,” Isabella said.
“I will not lie!”
She wanted to roar in frustration. “And your honor will see you dead, sir!” She pivoted and marched toward the tent, furious with Amaury for being so stubborn, for failing to heed her advice.
For putting himself in peril.
He was the sole man who had ever shown her a consideration, and already Isabella found herself determined to defend his interests and even his life. But did he heed her? Nay, he listened to his foolish brothers instead!
She pivoted to find Amaury staring after her, his arms folded across his chest and his features in shadow. “You are all either witless or simple at Montvieux, and not a one of you will survive to see this holding rebuilt. I wish it might be otherwise, but what can be done when a man will not listen to reason?” she concluded, then ducked into the tent. She stood, staring aboutherself in the darkness, her heart racing and her fists clenched. How could Amaury fail to see the danger in this?
Isabella choked back a sob of frustration, then saw the wilted coronet of daisies where it had fallen. It had not lasted even one night and neither had her hopes of a good marriage. Amaury had revealed his alliance to be primarily with his kin. There was no doubt of the decision he would make if compelled to choose between her and them.
Indeed, he already had made it.
Her father, much to Isabella’s dismay, had been right.
“Oh, you have made an enviable match,”Roland said, then Sebastian chuckled at his side.
“She is the daughter of father’s enemy, she is plain, she is deformed and she is a harridan,” Sebastian agreed with a cruel laugh. “What more? Do you think she is barren as well?”
Amaury spun and seized the tabard of his youngest brother, lifting Sebastian from the ground and giving him a shake. “And she is my lady wife,” he said through his teeth, watching Sebastian’s eyes widen in surprise. “You will address her with courtesy and respect.”
“I will do no such thing,” Sebastian replied.
“Then do not return from Provins,” Amaury said. He hated that it came to this choice, but he had to acknowledge the merit of Isabella’s warning. Though he had not discerned the peril immediately, she knew those of Marnis far better than he – if she feared Denis’ retribution for this incident, then he should take heed. “Ride on and seek your fortune, but do not return to imperil those of this estate.”
“And so you choose her over your own blood,” Sebastian said with disgust. He shook himself free of Amaury’s grasp. He spat on the ground, then straightened, eyes flashing. “Then I shall exceed your expectations, brother, and leave Montvieux this very moment.”
“You need not do as much,” Amaury began, but Sebastian had already flung himself in the direction of his belongings. He seized a saddlebag, then halted beside Lothair. He pointed to the north. “There is a town half a day’s ride to the north with a tavern that offers good fare. I will wait for you there for one night only.”
“You cede to Amaury’s request in that then,” Lothair said quietly.
“I recognize that he is more protective of his friends than his family,” Sebastian said hotly. “And there is merit in two men travelling together.” He granted Amaury a look of disdain. “I will not linger here for one moment longer than I must, but I will ride to Provins with you. From thence, I may find a patron and a tournament.”
“I thank you,” Lothair said. “I will meet you there on the morrow.”
Sebastian offered his hand and the pair shook solemnly, then he strode toward his horse without a backward glance. A young boy ran after him, undoubtedly his squire. Amaury stood silently, hands on his hips, as he watched with vexation.
“You do not even call after him,’ Roland said, accusation in his tone.
“He would not heed me if I did.”
“Is it true?” Roland asked. “Was Father poisoned?”
Amaury nodded and heard his brother’s heartfelt sigh.
“He must be avenged,” Roland said with vigor.
“He must,” Amaury agreed. “But that cannot be achieved if we make poor choices.”
“You would do as she instructs,” his brother said with evident surprise.
“Who better understands the Lord de Marnis and his son than my wife? Who knows what it is like to come of age in that hall? Surely, one who has done it herself.” Amaury turned away from his brother to find Lothair’s gaze upon him, that man’s expression assessing. “You would not swear your blade to her, but I have pledged myself to her forever. I recognize the wisdom of advice willingly given by one who knows.”