“I had visitors after Father’s death. The younger of the brothers of Marguerite, one Raymond, came to offer an alliance between himself and I. It seems his father was more desirous of the connection with Marnis, but I told him I was wed already.”
Amaury nodded approval of this.
“Someone else tried to enter, but I did not see who.”
Amaury grimaced at that, then his eyes twinkled. “All that before a valet dared to knock upon your door.”
Isabella smiled at him. “My most welcome visitor of all.” They kissed again, and she knew she had one more revelation to share. “Where did your father keep the treasury of Montvieux?”
“Locked in a treasury in the solar. He had several wooden chests, each embellished with the fleur-de-lis of Montvieux, and secured with heavy locks.” He frowned anew.
“You never found them,” Isabella guessed.
“No one did.” He shook his head with skepticism. “My father is said to have died alone in his sleep, yet managed to disperse all his effects without the influence of another. It is a curious business. Of course, his treasury might have been barren by this time. I suppose we will never know.”
“Would you fetch my dress for me?”
“Are you cold?”
“Nay, I would show you something.”
Clearly puzzled, Amaury rose and retrieved the blue kirtle from the trunk. “Who would have guessed that even such an abundance of embroidery could be so heavy,” he said, laying the garment down beside her. The bodice was stained dark and had been torn by both the bolt and the hasty removal of the garment. Amaury offered the torn shoulder to her, undoubtedly thinking she wished to assess the damage. “Surely a skilled seamstress might manage a repair? I know little of such details, but there seems to be a great deal of cloth.”
Isabella did not reply but reached for the hem. “In the treasury, there are three wooden chests with the insignia of Montvieux upon them,” she confessed, feeling Amaury’s surprise.
“Truly? Then your father must have at least seized the prizes of Montvieux immediately after my father’s death. Perhaps Edmund took them to him.” He sighed. “I suppose they were empty.”
“You suppose wrongly, sir.” Isabella was tugging at the thread she had sewn on her last night at Marnis, pulling the hem open. “Within those trunks was a fortune in coins.” She worked one gold coin free and placed it into Amaury’s hand. “I have your inheritance, my lord,” she said, then began to pull the thread free that secured the next coin.
Amaury looked to be astounded. He turned the coin in his hand, then fingered the hem of the garment, no doubt feeling the line of coins secured there. “Isabella!” he whispered with awe. “You are a marvel!”
Then he cast the coin aside and bent to kiss her thoroughly.
Isabella carriedthe treasury of Montvieux in her skirts. Amaury could not believe it. What an extraordinary wife he had, the most enterprising of ladies, clever and audacious beyond all others.
She kissed him back with the enthusiasm he so loved, her arms cast around his neck and her welcome beyond question.
He braced himself over her, knowing the funds would contribute to the rebuilding of the keep. “You are a most resourceful lady,” he said and she smiled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She was a woman transformed by her satisfaction in having surprised him.
He would have loved to have seduced her in this moment, but forced himself to recall her injury. Reluctantly, he retreated to his pose by her side, his hand upon her waist again.
“I saw the bowsman. I saw him take aim,” she said with heat. “Who would want you dead?”
“Whoever intends to claim Marnis via your hand.”
“What of your brothers? They would come into Montvieux in your absence.”
“I suspect any villain of sense would allow me to rebuild the holding first. It is a project of considerable magnitude.”
She smiled at him. “You are a surprisingly practical man, my lord.”
“And why should that be surprising?”
“I believed knights thought of honor and duty, the good war and the moral triumph, not the costs of construction and the provision of villages.”
“I was my father’s son before I was a knight.” He wagged a finger at her. “I am reminded that we must discuss whether it is better in these times to plant barley or oats. My father was always concerned with such details.”
Her smile was a little sad. “I liked him well.”