Siege Of the Heart (12 page)

“Do you not? He is not just here to escort your family to London. He is too interested in you and in Ashdown, for that matter.”

She waved him off. “I am sure he is only trying to discover new ways to annoy me.”

“Isabel, I am serious. I think he wants to win your affections.”

“Ridiculous. I cannot stand the man,” she said loftily.

“Surely you are not blind to the way he looks at you.”

She frowned at the unfamiliar intensity of his words. “You cannot mean it. Even if Alexandre is interested, he is naught more than William’s messenger. As a thane’s daughter, I could do much better.” She shook her head. “No, I’m certain William has already lined up a man of equal station to marry me when I reach London.”

“Are you certain that will happen?” He took a step toward her. “Are you certain that is what you want?”

“Surely not!” Anger and helplessness at her situation rose, suffocating in its intensity. “But I must comply with whatever William asks of me. Ashdown will suffer if I do not.”

Kendrick opened his mouth to argue, but she waved him off. She could not bear to discuss her future any longer. Nor could she idly stand by when she could be doing something to protect her people. While she still had the chance.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She turned back to him and smiled. “I cannot fight the Welsh in this,” she said, pointing to her dress, “now can I?”

* * * *

Convincing Kendrick was easy enough. Finding the trail the soldiers had taken was child’s play, as it was clearly marked in the lingering snow. They made good time and came across the men waiting in a small clearing as the mid-afternoon sun beat down.

At her signal, she and Kendrick dismounted. Now that she was here, there was no going back, but she found herself wanting to delay her inevitable confrontation with Alexandre. From behind a tree, she peered into the clearing. Most of the men had dismounted to rest their horses before the fighting, and they were now making last minute adjustments to their armor or polishing their weapons. Cuthbert and one of the Normans had gone missing, probably to scout out the location of the Welsh forces to the northwest.

When she turned back, Kendrick was surprisingly close, his eyes on her, not the men in the clearing. He had been abnormally quiet during the ride, and now a surprisingly severe look marred his face.

“What is wrong?”

Kendrick grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Isabel, you know the men would protect you, even if you went against William’s wishes. Or Alexandre’s.”

This again? Did he not understand her position? She gave him a sad smile. “I am grateful for their loyalty, but it is too much to ask of them.”

“The offer still stands. None of us want you to suffer.”

“I am sorry, Kendrick, but it is too late. For all of us.” The England they knew was changing, and they could do naught to stop it.

He shook his head. “I refuse to believe it. Could you not join a convent and gain sanctuary?”

“Not now, not with Alexandre here.”

She had contemplated flinging herself upon the mercy of the church, hoping she would be allowed to join a convent and thereby save her respectability and her lands as much as possible. The church would own the land but she might be able to retain the management of it. Yet, something held her back. She still clung to the small hope William could be reasoned with, he would see the qualities her father had cultivated in her, and he would understand her need to choose her future.

She swiped a hand over her forehead. “This is not something I can run away from.”

“What if you were already married? Surely that would prevent William from giving you to another.”

“And who would that be? You know very well how many suitors I have chased away.”

Instead of agreeing with her, Kendrick stood straighter, his gaze never leaving her face. “I could do it. I could protect you. Then when your father comes—”

“No, Kendrick. It would not be fair to you.”

“Why not? I would gladly do that and more for you.”

Isabel realized how close he stood, saw the genuine fear and love shining in his eyes. How had she not known? How could she have been so blind of his love for her?

She blinked. “Kendrick…”

“Foolish girl!” The deep timbre of Alexandre’s voice snapped Isabel out of the staring match with Kendrick. She turned to find Captain Thomas and Alexandre standing not three feet away. She pulled her hands out of Kendrick’s grasp and took a step back from all three men.

The Norman stalked toward her, his face a stony mask. “Explain yourself.”

* * * *

Isabel rested her hand on the pommel of her sword and did not flinch when she met Alex’s gaze. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid beneath the hood of her cloak. She had slung a quiver of arrows and an ornate yew bow over her shoulder. Much like the first time he set eyes on her, she wore a padded tunic over her dress. She had come to fight.

“I am needed here,” she said in clipped tones.

How dare she! She had disregarded his orders and now flaunted her bad behavior in front of the men—hers and his. Alex would not stand for any more of her impertinence. Even if it meant hauling her over his shoulder and dragging her back to the castle.

Alex took a step after her. Captain Thomas whipped out a hand and held him back. “Alexandre, a word.”

She sauntered past him and joined a knot of her men, many of whom smiled in welcome as if this was all great fun. Kendrick followed, a dark look on his face, leading both their mounts.

Alex growled but stayed put. “I should have chained her up.”

Captain Thomas inclined his head and did not disagree. “You must understand. Isabel feels her responsibilities most acutely.”

Alex watched her across the clearing as she joked with her men, keeping their morale high even in the face of battle. He met Captain Thomas’s questioning face. “They would do anything for her.”

Captain Thomas looked at Isabel, who was laughing at a comment one of the soldiers made, and then turned to Alex. “Yes, but would not all of us?”

“Yet it seems Kendrick in particular has fallen for her charms.” The boy stayed close to her, reverence and desperation at war on his face whenever he looked at her.

Captain Thomas raised his graying eyebrows. “You see much. Isabel herself does not know the lad is in love with her. But Isabel can be blind to what is in front of her, wouldn’t you say?”

Alex did not like the intelligence in the old man’s gaze. He only shook his head. “She is unlike any woman I have ever met.”

“That I do not doubt,” Captain Thomas said with a chuckle. “But given how close we are to the Welsh border, it is good she is able to defend herself. She has more heart than some of my men.”

Despite not knowing the Englishman well, the rebuke in his words was clear. Alex opened his mouth to reply, but closed it at the sound of someone crashing through the brush.

Jerome and a young English scout burst through the trees. “They’re coming.”

* * * *

Isabel lined up another shot and let go before she allowed herself to exhale. The arrow buried itself into the back of a Welshman trading blows with Godric.

The Welsh had stumbled into the clearing, stunned to find so many armored soldiers saddled and ready for them. The fiends often relied on surprise to fuel their attacks, but it would not work this time.

Their leader gave up a cry, and the Welshmen ripped their swords from their scabbards and charged. They scattered when they hit the line of English and Norman soldiers like waves against a rocky coast. Alexandre ordered the men forward, and the battle began.

Isabel knew her shoulder could not handle wielding a sword and fighting on horseback, so she stayed back with her bow and her arrows, taking shots when she could. Kendrick stayed as close to her as he dared, protecting her from any Welsh fighters who managed to break through the line of men on horseback. They had learned their lesson from the previous skirmish.

Alexandre suddenly reined his horse to a stop beside her. He had been fighting on the other side of the clearing only moments ago, before she lost sight of him in the chaos.

The weight of his gaze settled over her as she lined up another target. Easy now. She released the arrow and could not quite hold back the quirk of her lips when it hit a Welshman’s shoulder. An eye for an eye.

Alexandre grunted. “Perhaps you are not so helpless after all.”

She bared her teeth at him. “Be glad I have not turned my sights on you.”

He laughed, a full and throaty sound, at odds with the groans and shouts of the other men. “Oh, I am. But that does not mean I am pleased to have you here.”

She reached for another arrow. “I am just doing my duty.”

A Welshman bellowed and launched himself toward them. He must have broken through the line. Kendrick was too far away to help, locked in battle with another opponent.

Isabel cursed and scrambled to nock her arrow. Before she raised her bow, Alexandre’s mount squealed as his heels dug into the animal’s flanks. The beast reared in front of her, protecting her from the brunt of the Welshman’s charge. Alexandre swung his sword down, breaking through bone, as the animal returned to all fours.

Her heart lurched against her chest as she sucked in air. So close…

Alexandre looked down at her through his nose guard, his eyes dark with an emotion she could not identify. “Be safe. I still have words for you.” He spurred his horse into a group of Welshmen, his sword an arc of fire in the afternoon light.

She wrenched her attention away from the man and readied another arrow, then let it fly. It glanced off a Welshman’s chest plate and distracted him long enough one of Alexandre’s men struck him down once and for all. The Norman gave her a nod in thanks before moving on to the next opponent.

By now her breath echoed harshly in her ears, and handling her bow had left her fingers numb. Many Welsh had fallen. Their leader called for a retreat, but most of the survivors were struck down before they managed to turn back the way they had come. Such a difference from the first battle.

Captain Thomas instructed Alexandre to call off his men. The few Welshmen who remained were not worth chasing down. They would slink back across the border and lick their wounds, telling tales of the battle. Tales that would make them think twice before venturing into the Dumont lands again.

Yet it was not a complete victory. Isabel hurried to two of her men curled up on the ground. She crushed some yarrow leaves she had stowed in her saddlebags and bandaged the sword wounds the best she could—enough for them to travel back to the castle to receive more skilled care. Alexandre and Captain Thomas discussed the disposal of the bodies while Martin and Godric gathered up discarded blades and arrows. One of Alexandre’s men clutched his upper arm, a nasty gash from a broad sword bleeding through his fingers. She dressed his wound and ensured the rest of the soldiers’ bruises and busted knuckles could wait until they returned to the castle.

When she could do no more, she mounted and slowly rotated her arm. She had put more stress on her injury than she expected, but at least it had not reopened again.

Alexandre rode toward her with a serious look, so different from his mirth before. A wave of unease flowed through her when he stopped beside her.

He turned to address the other men. “I will escort Lady Isabel back to the castle. Return as soon as you have finished here.” Before Isabel could protest, he had seized Hardwin’s reins and led them away at a gallop.

Cursing, she clung to the pommel of her saddle for balance as Alexandre dragged them through the woods. She pitched forward to avoid the sweep of branches on either side and pressed her face into her horse’s neck. What did the man hope to accomplish? She finally managed to snatch the reins back from him, but not before they were well away from the others.

She pulled her horse to an abrupt stop. “I did not realize you liked to be so dramatic. But if you ever perform such a stunt like that in front of my men again, I will kill you.”

She dismounted and inspected Hardwin for scrapes from the trail. What a careless, unthinking man.

He only laughed. “My lady, you are the one who likes to make a spectacle. You are the one so fond of disobeying orders. I think it is time someone put you in your place,” he said in a serious tone. He dismounted and strapped his helmet to his saddle.