The Dark Knight (52 page)

“My daughter is not for sale,” Weston said flatly. “And I will not reward the man who ruined her by bestowing her hand in marriage after you haggle over her like a sack of grain. She will go to a convent.”

Dante’s first impulse was to again tell him “no,” and perhaps shout it this time, but the baron’s words revealed something Dante had not expected. Was it possible Weston truly cared for his daughter? “I promised Avalene that I would not allow anyone to imprison her and I will keep that promise, even if the prison is a convent.”

“ ’Tis hardly imprisonment if she goes willingly to God.”

“She will not go willingly.”

Weston’s scowl deepened. “She cannot wish to marry the likes of you, especially when it means she must leave her homeland forever.”

“She does so wish.”

“Perhaps we should eliminate the conjecture and ask the lady herself?” Mordecai suggested. And then he made another suggestion that Dante recognized as an order. “Dante, why don’t you send Reginald to request Avalene’s presence in the hall?”

“Aye, I would very much like to see my daughter,” Weston said.

It was the older man’s expression that made Dante more inclined to cooperate. A signal to Reginald sent him on his way, but Dante kept all of his attention focused on Weston, processing the possibility that Weston might be more concerned with his daughter’s best interests than his own. The baron’s next words lent weight to his suspicions.

“She must be made to understand that she is free to leave with me today,” Weston said to Mordecai. “You must assure her that the king’s soldiers will follow your orders on the matter and release her to my care.”

Mordecai merely inclined his head in agreement.

Dante narrowed his eyes and began to plot.

Avalene finally entered the hall escorted by his men and Rami, but his eyes were for her alone. She wore the finest of her new gowns; a red brocade shot through with gold thread. Beneath her veil and circlet, she wore her hair the way he liked it best; unbound. No other woman could hold a candle to her beauty, and she belonged to him. His chest tightened with pride.

Their eyes met and a look of relief joined the smile
that curved her lips. However, the smile faltered when her gaze went to her father. He watched her face tighten into the same cool, aloof expression she wore when she spoke with Lady Margaret and Lord Brunor.

He decided not to ruin her careful composure by sweeping her into his arms, as he would like to do. Still, he was on his feet and moving toward her before the conscious thought to do so entered his mind. It was hard to stand so close to her and do nothing more than lift her hand to press a chaste kiss to her fingers as he whispered an apology. “I did not know this audience awaited me, else I never would have left you this morn.”

“Do not concern yourself, my lord.” She gestured behind her to where Oliver, Armand, Rami, and a half dozen of his soldiers stood guard. “I was well cared for in your absence.”

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and covered her hand with his. Despite her outward calm, he could feel her trembling and he gently stroked her fingers. Her hands were ice cold.

Baron Weston was on his feet, a curious expression on his face as he watched his daughter walk toward him. Avalene had been nine years old the last time Weston saw her. Obviously the baron had known she would no longer be a child, but still he looked both startled and impressed by the woman before him. Dante let go of Avalene’s hand long enough for her to curtsey to her father.

“My lord, I am honored by your presence.”

Weston’s jaw tightened at the mention of the word “honor.” His gaze narrowed and brushed over Dante, and then returned to his daughter. “These are not the circumstances I had hoped to greet you under, but ’tis good to see you, daughter. You have grown into a fine woman.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

It was the moment that a father should open his arms to properly greet his daughter after so long a separation, but Weston clasped his hands behind his back and rocked backward on his heels. The ensuing silence became awkward.

Dante turned her toward Mordecai. “My lady, may I make known to you the king’s adviser, Mordecai. He has news of which your father wishes you to be made aware.”

“ ’Tis good to at last make your acquaintance,” Mordecai said, as Avalene curtsied to him. “Please, have a seat. The news is lengthy and you will wish to make yourself comfortable.”

“Come, my lady.” Dante led Avalene around the table. Reginald had already brought another armchair and placed it next to Dante’s. Weston and Mordecai settled again at their places after Avalene was seated. Dante reached out beneath the table to hold her hand.

“First, I believe you will be pleased to learn your betrothal to Faulke Segrave has been broken,” Mordecai began. He then told her of the king’s edict to banish Dante and his approval of a marriage, should her father agree to the match. Otherwise, she would be allowed to take the veil and retire to a convent. He finished with, “Dante and your father are in disagreement about which choice you would make, if the decision were in your hands.”

“I am here to take you home,” Weston said baldly. “That is, you will return with me to Wales, and then I will make arrangements for you to enter a convent.”

“No.”

Weston’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

Avalene’s nails dug into Dante’s palm but he did not flinch. Indeed, it was all he could do not to grin. He
heard her draw an unsteady breath and then she turned to look up at him, her blue eyes clear. “Do you want me to enter a convent?”

“No.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “ ’Tis a grave sin to steal a nun from a convent. I would rather not be excommunicated.”

She rolled her eyes only a little, and then turned toward her father. “I am going to Italy.”

Weston’s face was almost as red as Avalene’s gown. “You will go where I tell you, and you will do what is best for your family.”

“This
is
what is best for my family.” She gave Dante a shy smile. “What did you offer him for settlements?”

“Double the Segraves’ offer,” he said. “Plus coin to pay a company of soldiers for five years.”

Her eyes widened in an expression that he had seen earlier on her father’s face. “That is a most generous settlement, my lord.”

“For you, I would—”

She placed her hand over his mouth and gave him a stern look. “You would offer no more than twice the Segraves’ settlement plus a company of soldiers.”

He couldn’t help himself. He stuck out his tongue and licked her palm. She blinked, twice, and then slowly drew her hand away. Her fingers curled around the spot on her palm where he had tasted her. She looked a little dazed.

“I have refused his offer,” Weston declared. His arms were once again folded over his chest, but his gaze was speculative as he watched his daughter.

The interruption seemed to recall Avalene to her mission. She folded her hands in her lap and gave her father a prim look. “Aye, rather than collect a rich settlement, the convent will require a handsome dowry that includes my mother’s lands. The Church does not provide settlements.
You will receive nothing in return. On the other hand, my marriage to a foreigner means you would still control those lands in my absence. Will it not be better for my family to have the bulk of my dowry plus Dante’s settlements rather than the expense of a convent?”

“I will not have you wed to a murderous thief!”

“He is not a thief!”

In different circumstances, Dante would find it amusing that Avalene’s furious expression mirrored her father’s almost exactly.

“He stole
you
,” Weston pointed out. “He’s a liar as well.”

Avalene gave Dante a pleading look, obviously looking for support.

Dante shrugged his shoulders. “ ’Tis hard to argue with the truth.”

“Hah!” Weston crowed. “From his own lips, he admits to his crimes. No father would want his daughter wed to this monster. Once you are away from his vile influence, you will realize that convent life is by far preferable to being tied in marriage to such a fiend.”

“You know nothing about him,” she argued. “Just as you know nothing about me! I wish you had never—”

“That is enough,” Dante interrupted. He put his hands on Avalene’s shoulders and turned her to face him. “He is trying to do what he thinks is best for you. Do not say words you will soon regret.”

Avalene pressed her lips together.

He leaned toward her father. “ ’Tis true, I am a murderer, a liar, and a thief. ’Tis equally true that I will use whatever monstrous talents I possess to keep your daughter at my side. You can take Avalene to a convent at the ends of the earth and I will find her and steal her away again. I will lie to God, himself, to free her. I will
protect her with my life, and I will murder anyone who threatens her.

“You resigned yourself to a marriage between Faulke and Avalene, yet the Segraves also count murderers, liars, and thieves amongst their numbers. If Avalene had married Faulke and then not proved useful, I have little doubt that a fatal accident or illness would befall her. The woman means nothing to them, while her lineage means everything. To me, Avalene is all that matters. I love her more than my own life. She shall never want for anything as my wife, and as she so delicately pointed out, you will grow far richer. What more will it take to convince you that our marriage is what is best for everyone?”

Weston’s piercing gaze moved to his daughter. “Do you love him?”

“More than my life.”

Weston slowly nodded as he rolled his lower lip between his teeth. Dante’s eyes widened as he realized that Avalene had inherited that particular habit, and then he smiled. He knew Weston’s decision before he spoke.

“I will sign the betrothal,” Weston said at last. “As you both pointed out, I would be foolish not to and my daughter is lost to me either way.”

“She is not lost to you,” Dante told him, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “You are welcome to visit us whenever you wish, albeit the journey is a long one. You are also welcome to visit her while we remain in London. I know she has missed your company.”

“I must leave Town by the end of the week,” Weston said. “You had best make plans to be wed by then. I intend to witness the ceremony.”

“That will not be a problem,” Dante said. “I have already spoken with the priest at St. Paul’s. The banns will
be read before the ceremony and we can be wed on the morrow.”

Weston nodded his agreement, and then motioned toward the betrothal contracts. “Send me the inkwell and quill, and let us be done with this matter.”

While Weston signed copies of the contract, Avalene looked up at Dante, her lips slightly parted, her beautiful eyes dazed. Slowly, as if she were awaking from slumber, she returned his smile and whispered, “I am
free!
I am
yours
.”

He reached over to cover both her hands with his and continued to stare into her eyes, seeing the future there, knowing she saw the same in his eyes. The happiness that swept through him was like nothing he had known before. She was his. There were no more shadows. He could proclaim to the world that she belonged to him. He wanted to carry her to their chamber that moment to make proclamations that were best made in private. He was probably grinning like an idiot, and he didn’t care. She was his.

When it was Dante’s turn to sign the documents, Weston rose and clasped his hands behind his back, then began to pace before the table. The hall was silent except for the sounds of Weston’s spurs striking the flagstones. Rami, who could doubtless understand no more than the tone of the previous conversations, began to hum in rhythm to the metallic
clinks
of Weston’s spurs.

“I had planned to leave London on the morrow,” Weston said, when Dante handed the signed documents to Mordecai. “There are arrangements I must make to extend my stay. Release the soldiers who came here with me and our horses, and I will take my leave.”

“Reginald will have your men and horses in the courtyard anon,” Dante said, even as he motioned the order to his steward.

Before he knew what she intended, Avalene rose and walked around the table to approach her father. Weston took the hands she offered, and then she kissed each of his cheeks. “Thank you, Father. I appreciate all you have done for me, today and every other day of my life.”

“Here now,” Weston said in a gruff voice when he noticed the tears in Avalene’s eyes. His own eyes were suspiciously bright. “I will see you tomorrow at St. Paul’s, and I will call upon you here every day until your ship sets sail. This is not the last you will see of me, my girl.”

Avalene nodded, and then gave his cheeks another set of kisses before Reginald escorted Weston from the hall. Dante was at her side by the time she turned again toward the table and he drew her into his arms. She bit her lower lip and her gaze slid sideways toward Mordecai.

Dante did not care that they were in the great hall. He did not care that dozens of curious gazes were watching them. He slid his hands up the sides of her throat and cradled her head, and then he fitted her tight up against him and kissed her ruthlessly, his tongue scorching her mouth.

Avalene’s arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were beginning to stray to improper places when he heard someone clear his throat. And then he heard someone cough. Reluctantly recalled to their audience, he lifted his head but was immediately distracted by the sight of Avalene’s kiss-swollen lips. His head began to lower again.

“Ahem-ahem-
a-hem
!”

Dante scowled and tilted his head toward the head table.

“I must be on my way as well,” Mordecai said. He
began to walk toward the passage that led to Isabel’s solar. “I told Edward I would be present during Faulke’s first meeting with Isabel.”

“Mordecai, wait.” Dante took a step away from Avalene to help clear his senses. He lowered his voice so that only she and Mordecai could hear him. “You never involve yourself so closely in these affairs. Any of the king’s advisers could have come here today with the contracts. What haven’t you told me? What is the real reason I was sent to Coleway?”