Passion in the Blood (5 page)

“—the chapel—midnight—”

Then the unthinkable—his sister allowed Montbryce to kiss her, and not the kind of brotherly kiss he gave her. Pierre resolved in that moment to kill Robert de Montbryce in order to protect his sister’s honour. She was to be betrothed to the d’Avranches boy. He didn’t envy her fate, but that was of no import. They would have an unpleasant surprise when they held their clandestine tryst in the chapel. His father would be proud of him. He would have the blood of a hated Montbryce on his hands.

***

Dorianne timidly shoved open the heavy oaken door to the chapel a little after midnight. She’d dismissed her maid with the excuse she would prepare herself for bed, then had debated for hours whether to come. She seriously doubted Robert would show up. Why would he be interested in her?

Her breath caught when her eyes became accustomed to the gloom and she saw him kneeling before the altar. He turned, smiled and held out his hand. Her heart jumped into her throat. She took his hand and knelt beside him. As her knees sank into the plush blue cushion, the path of her future suddenly became clear.

This man will be my husband.

The idea filled her with exhilaration and dread.

The meagre light in the room came from two flickering candles on the altar. Robert and Dorianne remained motionless in silence for several minutes, their heads bowed.

“I feel I’m in the throes of a mystical experience, Dorianne,” Robert whispered. “I’m aware of the gulf between us, but none of that matters at this moment.” He squeezed her hand. “Look at me.”

She turned to look at him, a bolt of desire rocking her body as she gazed into his eyes. A faint trace of incense tickled her nostrils.

He smiled. “I am yours forever, Dorianne. I’ve never known such feelings as I feel for you. I pledge myself to you.”

His words were something she’d longed for. “Forever Robert, I’ll be yours forever. I give you my pledge,” she echoed, her voice shaking.

They gazed into each other’s eyes. He squeezed her hand again. “It is after all a man’s right to kiss his bride,” he murmured. He leaned to kiss her on the lips and her mouth parted for him. She raised her hand to touch his face and he placed his hand over hers. It was a moment of deep contentment unlike any she’d known before.

Robert helped her rise. “Go now. We’ll arrange to meet on the morrow. I’ll speak with your father.”

Dorianne shook her head sadly and was about to tell him it would be futile, but suddenly Pierre appeared, flinging aside a heavy drapery that had concealed him. One of the candles guttered and went out.

Pierre brandished a dagger at Robert. “You force me to take action in a holy place, Montbryce. Take your hands off my sister. Tonight you will die. You intend to dishonour her and our family. She’s pledged to d’Avranches and will never belong to you.”

Robert moved to protect Dorianne, but she pleaded with her brother. “Pierre, please. Put the dagger away. Robert isn’t our enemy. I don’t want to marry the
Comte
d’Avranches’ son.”

Her entreaties gave Robert time to take out his dagger. “Get behind the altar, Dorianne, and stay there.”

She retreated. “Please don’t kill him, Robert, he’s my brother.”

The two men circled, eyeing each other warily.

“I don’t want to harm you, Pierre, and I won’t dishonour your sister. I wish to marry her, to make her my wife. She’ll be the
Comtesse
de Montbryce.”

“I’ll kill her first,” Pierre spat. He lunged, but Robert grabbed his wrist. The blade reflected the light of the lone candle as the two men struggled. Robert recognized he was the stronger man, but didn’t want to harm his opponent for Dorianne’s sake. He glanced away to make sure she was safe. It was a mistake. Pierre’s dagger sliced into Robert’s bicep. Dorianne screamed, ran from the safety of the altar and rushed at her brother. “
Non,
Pierre, I beg of you, please don’t kill him!”

Light suddenly filled the gloom. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the door as the castle guards rushed in, torches held aloft. D’Avranches followed. The guards forced the two men apart. The
Comte
was visibly angered. “What’s going on here, Montbryce?”

Dorianne fell to her knees before him, her head bowed. “
Milord
Comte
, please don’t chastise them. It’s my fault.”

Pierre struggled to get free of the guards. “
Milord
—”

D’Avranches raised his hand to silence him and motioned the guards to loosen their hold. “I will not tolerate the use of weapons in my home. I repeat, what’s going on here?”

Robert sheathed his dagger. “
Milord
Comte
. I humbly beg your pardon. A misunderstanding.” He offered his hand to Dorianne.

Pierre rushed forward to stand between Robert and his sister. “Do not touch her!” he cried, grabbing her hand. He pulled her to her feet and pushed her roughly to the door.

D’Avranches raised his hand again, his face red.
“Arrête!”

The guards again took hold of Pierre, but he wouldn’t be silenced. “She’s my sister,
milord
. I have the right to command her. She will come with me.”

Blood seeped through Robert’s sleeve. Dorianne struggled to pull free of Pierre’s grasp, but he held firm. Robert moved towards them, but the
Comte
stopped him. “Montbryce, what claim do you have on this maiden?”

Anger raced through Robert. He had no claim, and Pierre would be allowed to take her. “I have no claim,
milord
.”

Dorianne looked at him, her face full of anguish. Had she expected him to champion her? The only way would be to offer for her now, in this moment. But such an offer should be made to her father, who wasn’t present. Robert had no choice but to let Pierre take her. He hoped she could see commitment in his eyes.

Pierre looked to the
Comte
. “
Milord
?”

D’Avranches hesitated, then gave his permission, and Pierre pulled his sister from the chapel.

“I want an explanation, Montbryce,” the
Comte
hissed after they’d left. “I’m in negotiations to betroth that girl to my son, Alain.”

The idea of Dorianne with the sulky child caused Robert’s gut to tighten. He would have to choose his words carefully. “
Milord
Comte
. Again, I humbly beg your forgiveness for the disturbance. I didn’t know of the plans regarding Dorianne and your son. But I ask you, as an old friend of my father, not to pursue those discussions any further. I wish to make Dorianne my wife.”

The
Comte
snorted. “But she’s a Giroux, Robert. Your families are bitter enemies. I assume that’s why young Pierre was wielding the dagger?”

Robert’s heart was still beating too fast and he wanted to find Pierre and shake sense into the young hothead. He’d gone from elation to fear to desolation in the space of a few minutes. It brought back too many dark memories of a vengeful madman with his sword raised, poised to cut off Robert’s head. He could still remember his mother’s cry of pain as Phillippe de Giroux dragged her by the hair. His emotions were in turmoil. Had he found a woman he loved, only to lose her after such a short time?

He controlled his anger. “
Oui
, but don’t be too hard on him. He’s young and hasn’t yet learned that hatred and vengeance sow the seeds of destruction.”

The
Comte
hesitated. “Why is it important for you to marry this girl, Robert? Don’t you have enough problems at the moment?”

Robert laughed. “No more than any of us Normans! But she’s the one I want. The one I need.”

D’Avranches chuckled. “Hmm! Like your father, I suppose. He’s always boasting of how much he loves your mother. I’ll tell Giroux the betrothal is off. But you’re the one who will have to deal with him and his impetuous son.”

“Not to mention my own parents,” Robert quipped. “Thank you,
milord
Comte
.”

The
Comte
touched him lightly on his arm. “You’d better get that wound seen to.”

It was only then Robert noticed he was bleeding.

François de Giroux had never been a violent man. He was full of hatred and resentment for the tormented years growing up with his blind, demented father. He’d been devastated by the death of his older brother, Phillippe and was distraught now over the lack of word about his younger brother, Georges, who had failed to return with Curthose from the Crusade.

These events had ruined his life and he grieved inwardly that hatred would likely shape the lives of his children. It was a cycle from which he couldn’t break free. When he was told Robert de Montbryce had lured his daughter to the chapel, and that the betrothal wouldn’t come to fruition, he swore to kill Montbryce, whom he deemed the source of all his ills.

When Robert confronted him later in the morning in the castle garden, anger seethed through him. “I know not, Montbryce, how it is you’ve managed in such a short time to wreak this vengeance on me and my family. Dorianne is an innocent. You shouldn’t have used her this way. You’ve ruined her reputation. I’ll have to send her to a nunnery now.”

He felt a surge of pride—at least Pierre had drawn blood. Montbryce held his arm to his body, the sleeve of his doublet hanging empty.

“
Seigneur
de Giroux, I haven’t used Dorianne. I intend to make her my wife, if you’ll allow it.”

Giroux turned to leave. “You’ll have to stride over my dead body.”

“Why must you be ruled only by hatred?” Robert shouted. “Look what it’s done to your family. Look at your daughter. You’re denying her the possibility of becoming a
Comtesse
. It wasn’t a Montbryce who first visited the indignity of blinding on your grandfather. It was a Valtesse.”

There was truth in the words, but François couldn’t heed them. “You’re all the same spawn,” he sneered, and stormed into the keep.

***

Robert searched for Dorianne. He discovered she and her brother had left the castle. He sought out his uncles. They were seated close enough to the rear of the assembly he could speak to them without disturbing the discussions. He felt a rush of guilt.

Hugh greeted him. “We’ve been worried, especially after hearing of the confrontation in the chapel yestereve.”

Robert groaned inwardly. Now he would receive a scolding, like a naughty child. “I apologize,
mes oncles
, I abandoned the cause. I’ve been—”

“We know where you’ve been,” Antoine interrupted.

Robert felt his hackles rise. “If you’ve heard what happened—”

Again Antoine interrupted. “We’ve heard, but why don’t you tell us your side of the story?”

Robert looked at his uncle and to his surprise saw a grin. Some of the tension left him. He’d forgotten for a moment that here were two men who many years ago had sacrificed a great deal for the women they loved. The Montbryce family had been in danger of losing all they held dear because of the actions of these uncles.

Several heads turned and indignant faces told them they should take their conversation elsewhere. The
Comte
d’Avranches looked particularly annoyed. Robert judged he’d likely done enough already to offend his host. He motioned to the doorway. “We should go somewhere else. There may not be many in the Hall at this time of day.”

They followed him, speaking in hushed voices as they walked along the hallway.

“I honestly don’t know what came over me,” Robert admitted. “I took one look at Dorianne de Giroux, and knew I had to have her. Of course, I wasn’t aware she was a Giroux.”

Antoine chuckled. “The look of horror on your face when her father challenged you in the Hall yesterday!”

Robert stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. He exhaled loudly. “I confess I thought that was the end of it, but I can’t get the woman out of my mind.”

Hugh slapped his nephew on the back. “We know the feeling, young man. It’s the curse of the Montbryces to fall hopelessly in love with the one woman they shouldn’t. Because Antoine and I are older doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten what it was to be smitten the first time we set eyes on Devona and Sybilla.”

They sought a quiet corner of the Hall and huddled close to continue their conversation.

Robert shook his head. “I know you both had difficulties to overcome, but you didn’t fall in love with the daughter of your parents’ arch enemy.”

Antoine’s voice became sterner. “Are you in love with her, Robert, or is it lust? Decide now, because if you’re to pursue this, Ram and Mabelle will be devastated. Your mother longs for you to make a good match and my brother is anxious for allies here in Normandie. Consider carefully. A marriage to Dorianne de Giroux won’t bring us any friends.”

A serving girl came with tankards of ale. Robert stared into the dark liquid. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about with Curthose and Henry, now I’m might rekindle an old feud and devastate my parents.”

Antoine wiped the ale from his mouth. “Giroux has never let the flame die. He has kept the hatred alive, burning a hole in his heart. You’re aware it was he tried to have Hugh and Devona condemned by the
curia regis
?”