If Love Dares Enough (8 page)

Gripping the gloves he held in his hand, Hugh resisted the urge to throttle the man. “
Oui
, I want to tell King William how grateful I am he has endowed me with manor houses that return a handsome revenue. When will Renouf be back?”

The taut features of Torod’s ugly face tightened further, betraying his unease. “We expect him in a sennight.”

Hugh feigned surprise. “Mmm. I shall probably have returned to Normandie by then. However, Cormant is nearby at East Preston. He can easily come over to Melton any time he wishes. You’ll be sure to let Renouf know of our arrangements? Does he go to visit family in Normandie? Perhaps he’s close to my castle at Domfort? I could visit him.”

“Hmph! I’m—I’m not sure where his family is.”

“You didn’t come from Normandie with him?”

“
Oui
—but not from his ancestral home.”

“I see.” He flicked his gloves against Torod’s shoulder. “Make sure my men have Velox saddled for me. I’m bound for East Preston forthwith. Have you seen Lady De Maubadon? I’ll bid her
adieu
.”

“She’s in the gallery.”

“
Merci
. I’ll find my own way.”

***

When Hugh entered the gallery, Devona’s heart thudded as it had every time she’d set eyes on him. He was such a beautiful man, handsome, fit, noble and compassionate. She touched the pulse at her throat, hoping its agitation wasn’t visible. She could easily have fallen in love with such a man, before—

“Devona, I have but a moment to bid you farewell.”

Boden ambled over to Hugh and sat at his feet, looking up at him. “Try to be on the beach in the hour before sunset. I’ll acquire a boat and meet you there. Your grandfather has told me about a cave. You must speak to him today.”

She came to her feet, dropping her embroidery. “A cave? Yes there’s a large cave, near the end of the beach. But what—”

Suddenly Torod strode into the room. “Your horse is ready,” he said rudely, his suspicious eyes darting from Devona to Hugh and back. Boden growled.

Hugh tapped his gloves against his thigh. “
Merci
Torod.
Adieu,
Lady De Maubadon. Thank you for your hospitality. Goodbye Boden. Take care of your mistress.”

He patted the dog’s head, bowed to Devona and departed.

***

Hugh went back to East Preston by way of Kingston Gorse, where he arranged to return later in the day and borrow a rowboat from the Norman family who lived there.

He enquired of the Norman lord of the manor, “How long do you estimate it would take to row to the cliffs below the manor at Melton?”

Sir Stephen Marquand looked at him curiously. “Melton? Depends on the tides, and the wind, and how many rowers you have.”

“Two burly men, at low tide.”

Sir Stephen pursed his lips. “Perhaps a quarter of an hour.”

Hugh bowed. “Thank you. I’ll return later. I will remember this favour.”

He rode on to East Preston, where he explained his plan to Antoine. His brother was assisting Barat Cormant with setting rat poison, under the watchful eye of Isembart Jubert, Montbryce Castle’s one-armed rat catcher.

Antoine straightened, rubbing his back. “These cursed rodents are everywhere. It will be weeks before the house can be occupied,” he lamented. “I’ll have to return to Normandie and leave Jubert to it.”

“Don’t worry,
milord
. No rat ever got the better of a Jubert, even one who has lost his arm in the service of his Duke,” Barat jested. “We’ll have this place put back to rights in no time.”

Jubert, a man of few words, nodded and grinned.

“Antoine, I’m sorry I’m not of much help to you at the moment, but I must do something about Melton. It’s as much my responsibility as what you’re doing here is yours. Renouf is draining Melton as well as abusing its people. Rats have to be trapped and disposed of.”

Antoine had his hands braced on his hips, stretching his back. “I know, Hugh, but I worry about the whole enterprise. It won’t be good if you fall out of favour with the King for stealing another man’s wife. You know how maniacal he can be about such matters.”

“All we intend this night is row to the cliffs to look at the cave Sir Gerwint told me about, and assess the possibility of a sea rescue.”

Antoine stopped stretching. “We?”

“I’ll take two men-at-arms to row for me.”

“You don’t need my help?”

Antoine sounded disappointed. “If you want to come—”

His brother resumed his stretching. “I’d better—just to keep an eye on you, though you know how sea sick I can be—like Ram.”

“
Oui
, I do know,” Hugh laughed. “I seem to be the only member of our family with good sea legs. Hard to believe sometimes we’re descendants of the Norsemen!”

The tide had already gone out far from Kingston Gorse which obliged the four men, barefoot and clad only in shirts and leggings, to carry the rowboat to the water. They shoved it into the surf and clambered aboard. The men-at-arms, natives of St. Valery on the Normandie coast, chosen for their muscle power and seafaring knowledge, soon had the oars going in a steady rhythm.

“Reminds me of my misspent youth,
milord
,” one of them jested, stowing a pack he’d borne on his back. “A clandestine excursion in a rowboat, to meet with a young maiden.”

Before long, Antoine was looking as green as his eyes, despite the fact the water was calm and there was little wind. The two oarsmen were obviously aware of his discomfort and winked at each other with a knowing grin.

Hugh saw the manor come into view. Why did it evoke such a feeling of homecoming in him? “There’s Melton,” he shouted. “Row in as close as you can. I don’t see Lady Devona yet.”

They brought the boat in closer, and Hugh caught sight of Devona halfway down the twisting staircase.

“There she is,” he cried. He was about to wave when Antoine caught his arm.

“
Attention,
Hugh. There’s a man standing at the top of the steps, watching. He’s looking out towards us, probably wondering who we are and what we’re doing.”

Hugh shaded his eyes and looked up. “
Merde!
It must be Torod! We can’t risk approaching closer with him there. Pull us further out. He won’t make out who we are at this distance.”

They waited interminable minutes, watching Devona on the beach.

“She must wonder why we’re not coming in,” Antoine said, wiping his mouth after another bout of retching.

Hugh gave his brother a sympathetic glance. “She’ll know. She can’t see the top of the steps, but she’ll know he’s there.”

At last, Torod seemed to grow impatient, kicked at a stone and left.

Hugh exhaled. “Good, he must think we’re simple fishermen. Pull in.”

The oarsmen put their backs into it and soon had the boat close to shore.

“Better not go right up on the beach, in case we have to leave quickly,” Antoine suggested. Hugh nodded, tore off his shirt and jumped into shoulder-deep water, swimming the several yards to the beach. Devona ran to meet him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms as he strode from the water.

“I want to greet you warmly, Lady Devona, but if you return to the house with your clothes wet, Torod will want to know why. He was watching you.”

“I shall tell him I fell into the sea,” she laughed, throwing her arms around him.

Hugh felt his knees go weak and his spine tingle and hoped she couldn’t feel the swelling in his leggings. He looked up as a raucous seagull swooped overhead.

She too looked up at the bird and seemed to realize what she’d done. Her face reddened and she pulled away abruptly. “I suspected he was there,” she said shyly.

By now Antoine had joined them on the beach.

“My Lord Antoine, I can’t believe your brother has talked you into helping with this dangerous scheme.”

Antoine smiled. “Well, Lady de Maubadon, we Montbryces must stick together!”

“Please, call me Devona. I hate Renouf’s name.”

Antoine nodded. “As you wish. Now where’s this cave?”

“Come, I’ll show you.” She took Hugh’s hand. Her warmth penetrated the chill caused by the water cooling on his body. “You can’t be long in wet clothing. The sun will set soon.”

Hugh barely heard her words, his gaze fixed on the compelling sight of her bare feet and the glimpse of her slim ankles as she raised her skirts for the run across the sand.

***

When Devona had seen the rowboat turn into shore, she’d known Torod must have left his post at the top of the steps.

The sight of Hugh de Montbryce tearing off his shirt and jumping into the sea had sent shivers up and down her spine. When he strode on to the beach, rivulets of water running off his long black hair, down his perfect face, across his broad shoulders and over his well-muscled chest to his—oh my! Desire had swept over her.

He wasn’t even breathing heavily after his swim, but she was panting. He’d used his big hands to wipe the water from his eyes and combed back his hair with his elegant fingers. She’d wanted to lick each long finger in turn—slowly, and trace her finger along the jagged scar that betrayed where a weapon had torn open his bicep. She ached for the pain it must have caused him.

He must think her a wanton the way she’d thrown her body at his. What had come over her? It was such an overwhelming relief to see him, she’d needed to feel him as well. And feel him she had as his erection swelled.

Whenever she saw the same happen to Renouf, she was filled with revulsion, but her breasts had tingled and she’d felt wet heat between her legs, and not from the seawater dripping off Hugh. The amber rays of the dying sun had reflected off his sculpted wet body. He was like a statue cast in precious metal emerging from the mould.

My golden god!

At the sight of his long toes curled into the wet sand, an urge had swept over her to drop to her knees and trace his footprints. She’d almost swooned, but Antoine’s arrival had brought her to her senses. She’d said something, but had no idea what. The word
cave
penetrated.

“Come, I’ll show you.” She’d taken Hugh’s hand without thinking. The warmth of his skin flowed through her. “You can’t be long in wet clothing.”

She saw that Hugh was aware his arousal showed only too clearly in the wet leggings. His blush excited her.

“The sun will set soon. The cave is over here, at the end of our beach.”

The three ran along the sand, scattering startled sandpipers in their wake, to the mouth of the cave, Devona and Hugh hand in hand. She’d not felt so exhilarated and carefree since before the advent of the Normans.

The narrow opening widened into a large cavern. The temperature inside was considerably lower and Hugh and Antoine shivered. She felt the chill of the wet spots on her clothing. “We must be careful of fever. Hurry!”

“Did your grandfather tell you about the passageway from the house?” Hugh asked.

“Yes, but I haven’t had a chance yet to examine it. Torod has watched me too closely. He takes his duties more seriously when Renouf is gone. He knows Renouf will kill him if anything happens to me while he’s away.”

“I’d certainly like to know where Renouf goes so frequently in Normandie, and whom he visits,” Antoine said.

The brothers had been examining the walls of the cave as they talked, looking for any sign of an opening to a passageway.

“Over here, Hugh, there are steps,” Antoine called from somewhere deep in the recesses of the cave, his voice echoing off the glistening walls.

Hugh strode over, slowed by the slippery pebble-strewn floor of the cave. The steps were worn away by time and tide, but they were there, ten of them leading up to a heavy wooden door, completely covered with barnacles and green slime, the hinges rusted, parts of it rotted.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know of this,” Devona exclaimed. “We’ve never ventured so far into the cave.”

There seemed to be no handle, no means of opening the ancient arched portal. Hugh threw his weight against it, but it didn’t budge.

“Perhaps it opens outwards?” Antoine suggested.

“But there’s no handle to grasp,” Hugh said with apparent growing exasperation.

“Is there space at the bottom to get a hold?” Devona shouted from the foot of the steps. “The tide’s coming in. We must be wary. It’s unpredictable in this cove.”

Antoine and Hugh knelt on the slick, jagged steps and curled their fingers under the space beneath the door, then heaved with all their might.

“It moved, Antoine, it moved!”

“Again, once more, little brother.”

Both men were perspiring now, despite the chill in the cave and their wet bodies. This time the door edged wide enough for Hugh to inch his fingers into the opening at the side.

“Heave again, Antoine—this time—
un—deux—trois—allez!”

The stench that emanated from the long disused passageway almost felled them, but the way was open.