The Wife Test (34 page)

Again time stretched out, but this time distance was distorted with it. It seemed to take forever for the bank to get closer. He was not a good swimmer; it was only by sheer force of will and desperate effort that he managed to keep them both afloat and moving toward safety.

Noise, voices came from the near bank, and he looked up to see riders on horseback at the edge of the water. He shouted and tried to wave. His arm felt like lead and barely broke the water. His voice sounded as sodden and heavy as his garments.

It was his father’s graveled voice that responded, shouting orders, but to him it had the sweetness of Gabriel’s trumpet. Suddenly there were horses in the water and all around them, and they were being ferried to the shore.

He collapsed on the bank for a moment, gasping for air, but his main concern was Chloe. He dragged himself to her inert form, rolled her over and listened. She wasn’t breathing. Frantically he rolled her onto her side and gave her back a heavy thump, then another. He had seen that work once in France, where English armies had forged several rivers. Then his father shoved him aside and rolled her onto her stomach. He pushed on her back and lifted her arms several times.

Hugh put his face close to hers and called desperately to her.

“Chloe! Can you hear me? Breathe! Come on, Chloe, breathe!”

After some effort the earl sat back on his heels, looking at Chloe, and then lifted a look of pain and disbelief to Hugh.

“No!” Hugh grabbed her up into his arms and pushed the grass and leaves from her face. “No—don’t you do this! Don’t you dare die and leave me, Chloe of Guibray! Don’t you dare make me love you … turn my whole world upside down … then die on a riverbank before I even get the chance to tell you …”

He shook her.

“Chloe! Please, God—don’t let her—”

Something … the shaking, the pleading, the loving … penetrated the darkness in Chloe’s senses, and the pall of death began to lift. Her lungs went into a spasm, her chest contracted around them, and suddenly she was choking and coughing up water. She gasped and coughed, fighting to draw breath against whatever was wrapped so tightly around her. It took a few moments for the fog in her head to clear and for her to realize there were voices all around her, bright happy voices. The tightness around her was arms; someone was holding her.

When she heard her name and felt something touch her face, she opened her eyes and there was Hugh, nose to nose with her, and shortly, lips to lips with her. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here, but she wrapped her arms around him and refused to let go.

“Thank God. You’re alive,” he murmured into her ear as he held her tightly against him. “Don’t even
think
about leaving me again.” He set her back for a moment. “Ever!”

She looked around and realized she was lying on a riverbank dripping wet … she remembered more … being taken … brought to a boat … the count and Hugh … a fight …

“I don’t think leaving you was exactly my idea,” she said hoarsely. “Hugh, you’re hurt.” She touched the cut that had gone though his tunic and narrowly missed ripping into his throat.

“It’s not so bad. I think most of the bleeding’s already stopped.”

He laughed and helped her to sit up. Suddenly there were a number of faces peering down at her. Hugh’s father. Mattias. Withers. Fenster.

“Ye give us a right good scare, milady,” Withers said with a big smile.

“I told ye, if ye needed rescuin’, we’d be there,” Mattias said, jerking a thumb at the group behind him, who all nodded and agreed.

“The duke!” She struggled to rise. “Hugh, we have to do something—he’s my father, and the count is his brother and—”

“I know, I know,” Hugh declared, refusing to release her. “I heard. As soon as we get you to safety, I’ll—”

“You’ll
do nothing,” the earl insisted, taking charge. “You two are going back to Windsor, and you’re going to warm yourselves and get some rest.” He extended a hand to Hugh … who looked at it, smiled, and then accepted both the help and the promise of reconciliation it offered.

Hugh insisted on carrying Chloe to a horse himself and was reluctant to part with her even long enough to mount and make a place for her on the saddle in front of him. Mattias and Withers wrapped her in a blanket and boosted her up to Hugh’s arms. Moments later they were on their way back to Windsor, with Mattias and Withers as escort, while the earl and the rest of the men headed downstream to help Graham, Simon, and Jax intercept the boat.

Feeling Hugh’s arms and warmth around her, Chloe sighed and felt her shivering subside. “You saved me,” she said, looking up at him in wonder.

“You say that as if you weren’t certain I would. Shows a dismal lack of faith in your husband, milady.”

“But the last time I saw you—”

“I had just learned how great an ass I’ve been for most of my life, and that kind of revelation takes a bit of getting used to. Then, when I reached the hall and saw you standing there before the king and court, looking as if your heart was breaking … God, I could have strangled Edward with my bare hands!”

“Shhh.” She put her fingertips to his lips. “Don’t say that too loudly. I hear there’s a foul plot afoot, and the king sees traitors under every rock.”

“I’d shout it from the housetops, if need be,” he said, his arms relaxing around her. He nuzzled her cheek. “But I’d much rather shout that I love my wife Chloe with all my heart.”

“You would? You do?” Chloe sat straighter and wiggled a hand out of the blanket to touch his face. “Are you certain? I mean, I know you never wanted to—”

“With all my heart,” he repeated. “And with all my mind, and—given the chance—with all my body, too.”

“Oooh.” She grabbed the front of his waterlogged tunic. “This is new. The last time this subject came up, you fled to the monastery.”

“No, the last time this subject came up, I fled
from
a monastery.” He caught her gaze in his. “I came back to you. Only you weren’t there.”

“You really came back to me?” She seized his face between her hands. “You decided not to renounce me and become a monk?”

“Not that it was ever really much of a contest. You had already ruined me for hair shirts and cold porridge and getting up three times a night to pray … but, yes, I came back. I’ve done a lot of thinking, Chloe. When I got to Saint Barnard’s, it wasn’t the same. At least, that’s what I thought at first. Then I realized:
it
was the same.
I
was the one who had changed. For the better. And I knew exactly who and what was responsible. I couldn’t bear even the thought of living in that suffocating stone pile for the rest of my days. Without
you.”
His eyes began to glisten in the moonlight.

“I thought I’d die when I arrived at Sennet and learned you’d been arrested. What the hell could Edward have been thinking—sending an armed escort to
arrest
you? I’m going to have a talk with our exalted and august sovereign—”

“No, you’re not,” she said, grabbing the tops of his shoulders, grinning at him through the moisture rising in her eyes.

“Oh, yes, I am.” He said stubbornly.

“Oh, no, you’re not. We’re going to explain everything that’s happened and throw ourselves on his mercy and accept our royal pats on the head and tiptoe home like good little subjects to make babies and grow old together.”

“Are not. I intend to have my say about a few things.”

“Okay, then, I agree. Are not.”

Confused, he tried counting backward with a finger on the air, trying to decide just where that put the argument. “I … I …”

“You love me.” She provided the perfect conclusion. “And I love you.”

He surrendered to that logic and pulled her closer. “You’ll get no argument from me on that.”

It was nearly dawn when the search parties returned to Windsor with an injured duke and a defeated and bound Compte de Sabban. Hugh and Chloe, who had arrived some time earlier and had a chance to put on dry garments and warm themselves with wine and a fire in the hearth of the great hall, rushed outside to meet them. The king joined them on the steps and ordered the
compte
taken straight to the dungeon. Having heard Hugh and Chloe’s brief summary, he personally conducted the duke into the hall, where he called for a physician to tend the duke’s injured arm, and provided them with blankets and mulled wine. Afterward, the king listened intently to the duke’s explanations … a sordid tale of young love and great loss, of family rivalry and bitter vengeance.

Avalon looked pained and weary indeed as he spoke of his brother’s abduction of Chloe as an infant, of the jealousy and scheming that ended in death, betrayal, and the peril of a dozen young and promising lives. But whenever he spoke of Chloe’s mother, his voice and countenance softened. There was no doubt of his regard and affection for Chloe’s mother. And all present—from the king to Chloe to the most skeptical courtier—sensed that the proof of the duke’s claim of marriage would soon be returned from Calais.

“So the count acted alone,” the king said thoughtfully.

“I believe so,” the duke answered sadly. “He sent Valoir to tell you of a grand plot, so you would look for betrayals at every corner and ignore the earnest help and advice of those loyal to you.”

“A strategy that very nearly worked.” Edward looked toward Hugh and Graham. “And a valuable lesson.”

“He is my brother,” the duke said, wagging his head. “I trusted him with my life, with my home, and with my family’s well being. And he would have killed my daughter and then me … then my son and heir …” It was a moment before he could go on.

“But even in the darkest of events there are seeds of promise, if we are willing to look for them.” He looked up at Chloe, smiled, and extended a hand to her. “In losing a brother I have gained a daughter and reclaimed a part of my heart that I had thought lost forever.”

Chloe left the security of Hugh’s arms to come and kneel beside him.

“And I have gained a father … a husband … a home … and four wonderful sisters.” She looked up at her sisters, gathered nearby with their husbands. All were present except Graham and Lisette, who seemed to have disappeared.

There was hardly a dry eye in the hall as Chloe hugged her father, her sisters, and then went back to Hugh and nestled once again in his loving embrace.

Hugh cleared his throat and leveled a serious look on the king.

“There is one more matter, Highness, that begs attention.”

“Oh?” Edward turned a wary look on him.

“The little matter of my marriage to Lady Chloe.”

“Ummm.” Edward sat forward on his chair and stroked his chin. “Well, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do about it.”

“What?” Hugh’s expression turned stormy.

“It seems Lady Chloe is probably the duke’s natural daughter as well as his legal one. I agreed to accept this marriage as a part of the duke’s ransom and the marriage has been duly contracted and—I assume—fully consummated.” He gave a regal sigh. “I’m afraid you’re just stuck with her.”

Hugh began to grin with relief, and the hall rang with laughter.

“They’re here!” a serving boy called as he hurried by the cozy alcove at the side of the great hall of Sennet, on his way to inform the housekeeper and the kitchens. Inside sat Chloe and her three little sisters-in-law, engaged in a daily stitchery lesson Chloe had insisted take place as usual, despite the impending arrival of long-awaited guests.

Before she could forbid it, the three girls jumped up, dropped their embroidery hoops onto their seats, and rushed for the main doors.

“Slow down!” Chloe called emphatically after them. “Ladies do not
run!”

The eldest, Ellen, reined her gait to a more dignified trot, but the other two continued on as if they hadn’t heard. Chloe narrowed her eyes and looked down at her greatly expanded middle. As soon as the babe was born and she was back to her old form, she’d have to take those three in hand … again.

She pushed to her feet with a groan and set her hands to the small of her back, arching against them. Trueblood met her at the entrance of the alcove.

“Ye needn’t stir yerself—I’ll see ’em in to you, straightaway.”

“I have to get up and move about, Trueblood. I get cramps just sitting. Besides, it’s been over a year, and I can’t wait another minute to see them.”

The housekeeper put an arm around her and helped her navigate the furnishings in the hall. As they emerged into the sunshine of a beautiful September afternoon, Chloe’s face lighted and she began to wave excitedly.

“There they are! Lisette! Graham!”

The trim, dark figure being lifted down from her horse waved in return and soon was hurrying up the steps to throw arms around her.

“Chloe, my Chloe!” Lisette cried, hugging her as tightly as her condition would allow. “I told Graham that if he didn’t get me here in time to see this babe born, he would have to make his bed in the hall for months!” She drew back to look at Chloe’s belly, then her glowing face. “Look at you—you’re beautiful!”

“I’m a walking barn!” Chloe said with a groan. “But I generally feel good and the babe certainly seems vigorous.” She took Lisette’s hand and pressed it palm first against her belly.

“I can feel it move!” Lisette giggled, moving her hand over Chloe’s middle.

“Ahem,”
came a reminder from a young female throat.

Chloe looked up to find three pairs of eyes trained on them. Smiling, she introduced them: “May I present Ellen, Lizabeth, and Corinne … Hugh’s sisters.” Somewhere in the last year they had ceased putting the qualification
half
before the word
sister.
To her genuine surprise, they each executed a passable curtsy and uttered a pleasant and ladylike greeting. She saw their eyes dart toward the far side of the party of riders and wondered what it was that caused them to suddenly be on their best behavior.

“There she is!” Hugh’s voice boomed as he rounded the horses with Graham in tow. “My beautiful wife.” He leaned closer to Graham and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Humor her—she swears she’s giving birth to a whole regiment.”

“Chloe! You’re as lovely as ever.” Graham kissed her hands. With a wicked laugh, she offered him first one cheek and then the other for the same treatment, declaring that she could use all of the attention she could get.

Just then the grooms started to lead the horses away, and on the far side of them stood several well-dressed young men. Graham waved them over.

“May I present my youngest brother, Damon, and our cousin Michael of Trent.” The young men each stood straighter and nodded respectfully. “These others are John of Ellington, Harold of Gaunt, and Marcus of Avingale. They come from estates near ours and have just finished their studies at Saint Barnard’s, also. They are traveling home with us.”

“Welcome.” Chloe beamed. “It will be good to have more young people at Sennet.” As Hugh came to put an arm around her, she had an idea. “I know—we’ll have dancing tonight in the hall.”

“Dancing?” came the earl’s voice from nearby. They turned to find him astride a horse, returning from checking on some far-flung tenants. His eyes went immediately to the exotic Lisette and he grinned. “A wonderful idea!”

But at dinner the earl watched his daughters watching the young men who accompanied Sir Graham and Lady Lisette, and began to reconsider his enthusiasm for the pleasures of the dance. In even the most staid of settings, eye met eye, hand met hand, and body sometimes brushed body in the course of a dance. The glint of excitement in his daughters’ eyes suddenly alarmed him.

After the meal was over and the tables were removed from the center of the hall, Lisette volunteered to serve as dancing master. The earl insisted on partnering one of his daughters and coerced Hugh and Graham into partnering the others … annoying the girls and disappointing the young men. Abandoned, Chloe rose and waddled into the midst of the dancers to seize Lisette’s hand. Laughing, Lisette began to dance the man’s part and Chloe maneuvered her way through skips and steps clearly meant for more maidenly figures.

At the end of the music Chloe paused, laughing, and then suddenly grabbed her side. Her eyes widened. Hugh saw her face and rushed to her.

“Chloe? What’s wrong?”

She looked down at her feet and lifted her hem. She was standing in a puddle of water.

The sun was rising the next morning when the newest heir to the Sennet title and fortune drew first breath and wailed at being forced out into a cool, bright, and abominably noisy world. Hugh and his father were both present at the birth, Hugh having threatened to coldcock anyone who tried to remove him from the chamber, and the earl threatening to coldcock Hugh if he wasn’t allowed to stay. They jointly drew a line, however, at permitting Hugh’s little sisters to stay. They sent the girls to their shared chamber with orders to stay there until they were sent for.

Trueblood and Lisette assisted the midwife, and after hours of steadily building intensity in labor, a fine, healthy baby boy was brought forth to volleys of cheers and a flood of heartfelt tears. Chloe and baby had both come through it unscathed.

When the women had finished their work and Chloe was allowed to rest, Hugh sank gingerly onto the bed beside her and watched her nuzzle the baby’s downy head. His heart was so full of love, it was overflowing his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“He’s so beautiful.” He stroked his new son’s cheek and then Chloe’s with the same finger, feeling the same tender amazement at having them in his life. “Just like his mother.”

She looked up through eyes filled with love and touched his damp face.

“And strong … just like his father.”

The earl, who was watching, cleared his throat as if something were lodged in it. “Ale! I say we adjourn to the hall and wet our throats. Damn long night.” He glanced at Trueblood with a wicked smile. “Damned hard work, becoming a grandfather!”

Just as he reached the doorway, he was blown back into the room by a gale of daughters rushing in to greet their new nephew.

“Oh, look at him!” Ellen gasped with delight as they descended on the bed. “He’s so little!”

“His hands—look at his hands—how tiny and perfect!” Lizabeth crooned.

“And look at that little rosebud of a mouth!” Corinne purred.

They pressed close to Chloe to ask how she was and to touch the baby. They each asked to hold him and, in fairness, Hugh agreed to allow each of them to hold him for a moment.

Ellen looked up from the bundle in her arms with her eyes alight.

“I want one,” she declared.

“Me, too!” Lizabeth said, shaking her hands in impatience.

“Me, too. I want one, too!” Corinne declared shortly.

“Me first,” Ellen insisted. “I’m oldest.”

“Oh, no! Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to have a baby first!” Lizabeth complained hotly. “You’re always hogging things—”

“I’m always last—I should get to have a baby
first!”
Corinne whined.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” The earl strode into their midst and motioned Hugh to take the baby back immediately. “None of you is having a baby! Ever! You’re never getting married. You’re going to stay right here, all three of you, and take care of me in my old age.” There was a storm of protest as he herded them out the door.

“We don’t have to get
married
to have babies!” Ellen glared defiantly.

“You
didn’t,” Corinne charged.

The earl bellowed as if he had just been gored.

Hugh quickly closed the door on that escalating turmoil and then strode to the bed to place his infant son back into Chloe’s arms. When he stretched out on the bed beside them and pulled them into his arms, he was chuckling.

“Serves him right,” he murmured.

She smiled mischievously and snuggled her face a bit closer to his.

“You realize, of course, that you’ll have to do something. You can’t let your son-and-heir’s aunts go galloping around the countryside having babies thither and yon.”

She could feel the impact of her remark registering as he stilled and his arms began to tense.

“Damnation.”

“There is, however, a solution.”

“Which is?” She felt his breath stop as he waited.

“Find them husbands.”

Hugh rolled over onto his back, his eyes closed, his face turning gray.

“God help us.”