When Love Awaits by Johanna Lindsey
Truth or not, the saying of it grated on her. She would not give in. But she needed Guibert’s support, so she did something she had never done before. She burst into tears, gauging the effect it had on the man who had been like a father to her. In between heart-rending sobs, she confessed everything to Guibert, sparing nothing, not even that she was carrying her husband’s child—his second child.
But the revelations she made about Amelia were not as shocking to him as she had hoped they would be, for she had forgotten that her situation, though painful, was not unique.
“You are not the first woman who has been asked to raise her husband’s bastards, Leonie,” Guibert scolded gently. In truth, he was shocked at Rolfe’s behavior, and he hurt for Leonie, but coddling would do her no good now.
“If it were only that, I could live with it,” she said. “But my husband will not send this child’s mother away. I have asked him and he refuses. He flaunts her in my home. He gives her responsibilities that are mine by right. I feel like a second wife!”
“You exaggerate, Leonie.”
“I do not! I have told you plainly how it has been. I tried to live with it, Guibert. If—if my feelings were not entangled, perhaps I could. But—”
“You love him?”
“Yes,” she said, sobbing in earnest now. “I fought against loving him, I did. I knew it would cause me only pain. And he expects me to continue sharing him with that woman. I cannot do it anymore. It is killing me, Guibert.”
Guibert sighed. “I do not see what you hope to accomplish by coming here, Leonie. The man has besieged stronger keeps than this and won them.”
“He would not do so here!” Leonie told him. “I am his wife.”
Guibert shook his head at her. “You think that will stop him? That is the very reason he will not turn away from our closed gate.”
“No, Guibert,” she said confidently. “Rolfe has two keeps to secure yet. He will not take his army away from victory there to come here. He will come himself, yes, but I will tell him plainly how I feel—if I have to shout it from the walls. He will have to accept my decision.”
“Does he know of your condition?” Guibert asked shrewdly.
“No,” she admitted, glancing at him and then away. “I will not give him that excuse to force me to return to Crewel.”
“I pray he will let you go,” he said, sighing. “If not”—he shook his head—“God help us.”
Chapter 45
LEONIE worried over Guibert’s misgivings for days to follow, for she had believed that Rolfe would come to Pershwick immediately, but she was quite wrong. Days turned into weeks, and still he did not come. She was as miserable as she had ever been.
After two weeks, Leonie opened Pershwick again, allowing things to take their normal course. She sent back the extra men she had requested from her other keeps, but kept her men-at-arms ready. The stores were full with the recent harvest, so she had no worry there. Time dragged by, taking with it the remains of her good humor. Nearly four weeks had passed since she left Crewel. She was two and a half months into her pregnancy, with a thickened waist her gowns could barely disguise. She was disgusted, having wanted to give Rolfe her ultimatum without bringing their child into the argument.
One unseasonably warm day, she stood on the parapet and watched her husband approach the keep. Four of his knights rode directly behind him. But beyond that was a sight that froze her where she stood.
“Sweetest Mary, he’s brought his whole army!”
There seemed to be a thousand men moving toward Pershwick. The army stopped well out of range of Pershwick’s weapons. Did that mean Rolfe truly expected a battle?
“I warned you, my lady,” her friend and vassal said dolefully.
Leonie tore her eyes away from the horrifying sight below and made no attempt to hide her fear from Sir Guibert.
“I will have the gate opened,” he said.
“No,” she returned, and his face collapsed into a picture of misery.
“God’s mercy, Leonie, what can you be thinking? This is no longer a woman’s whim. Your lord is serious!”
“I tell you he will not attack us,” she insisted. “He has brought his army only to frighten me.”
“You would risk all our lives on an assumption?” he cried.
“Guibert, please,” Leonie pleaded. “This is my whole life that will be decided here. Let me at least hear what he has to say. If you give me up to him without even that, he will never believe he must take my feelings into account.”
Guibert looked out again at the men. A man did not order a paid army to follow him unless he meant to make use of that army. She was fooling herself. The Black Wolf was prepared to attack.
“You will talk to him yourself?” he asked, and when she said “Yes,” he asked hastily, “You will not provoke him?”
Leonie shook her head. “I will be careful, but he must know I am firm. How else can we come to terms? But I swear, if it does not go well, I will surrender.”
“Very well.” Guibert sighed heavily. “But remember a man’s pride, my lady, and do not push him too far. Pride can make a man do things he doesn’t really want to do, for honor’s sake.”
Rolfe and his knights had ridden to the gatehouse and halted. Rolfe slowly surveyed the manned walls to each side of the gatehouse, the weapons trained on him, the closed gate. Tension crackled in the air.
Rolfe demanded entrance and was refused. Leonie held her breath, waiting for his reaction. How far, indeed, would Rolfe go for honor’s sake?
“My lady wife is within?”
“I am here, my lord,” Leonie called down to him.
“Lean forward. I cannot see you, madame,” he shouted up.
She leaned forward. She could see him fully. He wore full armor, and because he didn’t remove his helmet, even his eyes were hidden.
Rolfe moved his destrier so that he and the horse were standing directly beneath her. “You have readied Pershwick for war?”
“Keeps should always be kept in a state of readiness,” she said evasively. “I would as well ask you why you have brought your army here.”
“Why, to please you, of course,” he called. “Isn’t war what you want?”
Leonie gasped. “I take precautions, my lord, nothing else.”
His voice whipped out fiercely. “Against me!”
“Yes!”
“Why, Leonie?”
The answer was too embarrassing to be shouted down at him, but shout she must.
“My lord, I will abide no more at Crewel with your…with Lady Amelia in residence.”
“I cannot hear you, Leonie.”
She had heard him plainly enough. Did he mean to shame her?
Leonie steeled herself and leaned farther over the parapet. “I said I will no longer abide at Crewel with Amelia there also!”
“Is that what this is about?” He sounded quite incredulous.
“Yes.”
And then the unthinkable happened. Rolfe began to laugh. He removed his helmet and his laughter grew louder and louder. It carried over the walls into the quiet keep.
“Your humor is misplaced, my lord.” Her tone was bitter. “I mean what I say.”
There was a moment of silence and then, harshly, he said, “Enough, Leonie. Order the gate opened.”
“No.”
His expression was darkly turbulent. “No? You have heard me say that no one will keep me from my wife. That includes you, wife.”
“You also said you would kill anyone who tried. Does that include me, my lord?”
“No, indeed, Leonie, but if you force me to break down these walls, I doubt there will be many left alive to rebuild Pershwick. Do you want your people dead?”
She gasped. “You would not!”
Rolfe turned toward his knights. “Sir Piers, order the village torched!” he shouted.
“Rolfe, no!” Leonie called.
Rolfe turned back to Leonie, waiting
“You—you may co
“Order the gate opened,” he said coldly.
Leonie’s features marked her defeat. Rolfe had called her bluff. Her advantage was lost and they both knew it. He knew he was safe inside her keep, for he had an army outside.
“Do as he says, Sir Guibert,” Leonie said quietly. “I will await him in the hall.”
“Do not take it so hard, Leonie,” he said gently. “Perhaps he will give you what you want, now that he knows how strongly you feel.”
She nodded sadly and left.
Guibert’s temper rose as he watched her go. He could not bear seeing her so desolate. He didn’t approve of what she had done, but her motives were understandable. Angrily, he went to meet Rolfe d’Ambert.
Chapter 46
ROLFE rode into the bailey and dismounted from his large war-horse. He was furious. He had left Crewel with a light heart, deciding to believe that Leonie loved him. After all, how could she respond to him so passionately if she really loved Montigny? he had chided himself.
The question was as irrelevant now as Alain was dead and buried. Rolfe hadn’t been there to see it, but he had been told about it. In the stupidest action imaginable, the young fool had managed to enter Blythe Keep and incite the besieged occupants to attack Rolfe’s small camp outside the keep. He had then led them on to Warling, thinking the occupants under siege there would come out and join the battle. They did not, but it truly would have made no difference if they had. Either Montigny was simpleminded, or he had greatly underestimated the size of Rolfe’s army. There was no real battle at all. Montigny had gathered less than a hundred men. They were quickly overcome, and many died, including Alain Montigny.
The occupants of besieged Warling, witnessing the slaughter, quickly came to terms of surrender.
Rolfe had not been there to see this astonishing turn of events because he was called away to Normandy only a few days after leaving Leonie. He had spent the last weeks tending to his late brother’s estate.
It was an unsettling time, trying to sort out his feelings for his brother. He finally realized he had none. He felt no particular grief over the death. He did find, however, that he had no desire to ignore the widow and her children. Altogether it was a trying time.
And then! To come home and learn that Leonie had been closed up in Pershwick all that time, that she was prepared to fight him to stay there! Once more, she had made a mockery of his trust. He decided this was the last time she would hurt him. If she was so set against him as to do such a thing, then he did not want her back. That decision was firm.
Or so he’d believed. For three days he resisted all impulses to change his mind. The problem was, he did want Leonie back, and at any cost, too. He’d even brought his army to prove that to her. And now, to find that all this drama was motivated only by jealousy! He didn’t know whether he wanted to shower her with kisses or throttle her.
He did know one thing. She would not come out of this free of retribution. She had to be made to see that she couldn’t run to her vassals every time he and she disagreed.
If Rolfe’s anger had simmered to mild exasperation, it did not stay that way. Sir Guibert met him in the bailey and told him flatly that Leonie would not leave Pershwick at all unless she left willingly. He was prepared to support his stand with all necessary force.
Rolfe was livid. “Do you understand in what cause you are prepared to die?”
“I do, my lord.”
“Do you know also that my wife’s jealousy is unfounded? There is a good reason for Lady Amelia’s being at Crewel. I do not prefer it that way, but so it must be.”
“We are aware there is a child involved,” Guibert replied, undaunted.
“We?”
“Lady Leonie would not take this hard stand if she had only suspicions.”
Rolfe glowered. “I told you her jealousy is unfounded. The child does not concern her because it was conceived before I wed her.”
“Then you must convince her of that, my lord, for she surely believes otherwise.”
Rolfe was brought up short. The statement was made matter-of-factly. It was bad enough that Leonie had learned of the child when he had hoped to spare her that knowledge as long as possible. But for her to think…
“Take me to her,” Rolfe demanded, angry anew over the foolish notions in Leonie’s mind. It showed clearly what opinion she had of him. He remembered now the doubts he had had about letting Amelia remain at Crewel, but even so he’d never guessed what conclusions Leonie might draw from his leniency with Amelia.
As Leonie watched Rolfe cross the hall toward her, she was surprised by her fear and, just below the surface of her fear, her terrific pride in Rolfe. She had to respect a man who held to his purpose so tenaciously.
The truth was, she hadn’t wanted him to give in to her demands if his giving in would leave him with a longing for Amelia. That would do no good. Leonie wanted the issue settled forever.
Rolfe came to a halt several feet away from Leonie, studying her position and demeanor. She was standing behind a chair, her fingers gripping the high backrest as if to keep the chair between them. Her chin was raised defiantly, but her eyes were uncertain and fearful.
“Was it necessary for you to come here with an army, my lord?” she asked, seizing the opening.
He might have laughed, for there were a dozen armed men about the hall, as well as her stalwart vassal and a goodly number of brutish-looking serfs who didn’t even attempt to conceal their dislike of Rolfe d’Ambert.
“Be glad I did, wife, for if I had come here alone, you would have stood fast to your foolishness and forced me to resort to harsh measures later on.”
She bridled. “It is hardly foolish to—” She clamped her mouth shut. “I will not argue about that. What do you wish to do now?”
“Take you back.”
“And if I refuse to leave? Will you attack my keep?”
“I will leave not a single stone standing,” he answered. “I am tempted to dismantle Pershwick anyway.” His face hardened. “You cannot come here and pit your people against me every time you are upset with me, Leonie. If you ever do this again, I will not hesitate to destroy Pershwick. You belong with me.”
“But I am not happy with you!” She flung the words at him.
She might as well have stabbed him. He told himself not to open his heart to her if all she wanted was to trample on it.
“I had hoped in time you would come to love me, Leonie, or at least to find life with me…pleasant. I regret that you cannot.” His voice was funereal.
Her heart dropped into her belly. “You—you will give me up?”
Rolfe’s eyes narrowed darkly. So that was what she wanted. “No, madame, I will not give you up.”
Joy leaped into her breast, and she cautioned herself against revealing too much of herself to him.
“What of Amelia?” she asked evenly.
He sighed wearily. “She will be moved to another keep.”
“To another of your keeps? What real difference will that make?”
“Do not be heartless, Leonie,” he growled. “You know she is with child. Would you have me abandon a pregnant woman?”
“I would never ask that of you!” she cried. “But must you keep her always within reach, so that she is there to comfort you whenever you are angry with me?”
“Damn me, where have you gotten this notion? The woman was my mistress, yes. I regret that a child was conceived. But I have not touched her since I wed you, and I am mystified by your implying that I have—or shall.”
“Lady Amelia says differently, my lord,” she informed him.
“You mistook her,” Rolfe replied rigidly.
Leonie turned her back to him, so furious she wanted to hit him with something. Sweet Mary, how could she love him when he made her so furious? He was lying. He surely was!
“Gather what you will, Leonie.” Rolfe addressed her stiff back. “We are leaving.
She swung back around. “I am not going willingly, but you won’t have to drag me away or kill anyone,” she hissed at him.
She swept past him to order her trunk packed. Then she conferred with Guibert, who was greatly relieved to know that she had agreed to go home with her husband.
“He is not angry with you?” Guibert asked doubtfully as he eyed Rolfe pacing the hall impatiently.
“His anger does not frighten me,” Leonie lied bravely.
“He refused to send the other woman away?” her vassal asked hesitantly.
“No,” she said with a sigh. “He agreed.”
Guibert frowned. “Then you should be pleased, my lady.”
“Indeed—I should be. But I am not.”
Guibert shook his head as he watched her flounce away.
Chapter 47
BUT things were to resolve themselves in a manner no one could have expected.
No sooner had Leonie returned to Crewel and entered the master bedchamber than a maid frantically sought her out.
“My lady, she is dying! You must come—please,” Janie cried.
“It’s a ruse,” Wilda said quickly. The young maid was Amelia’s own servant, and not part of the Crewel household. “The woman has learned that she will be sent away, and she means to prevent it by claiming illness.” She cast a triumphant look at Janie.
Wilda stood firmly planted between Leonie and Janie, and Leonie was gratified that Wilda was trying to protect her, as she so often did. If nothing else had been accomplished by going to Pershwick, at least she had been able to bring Wilda back with her.
“Go back and tell that woman we are wise to her,” Wilda ordered brazenly, and Leonie saw she would have to put a stop to this.
“Tell me what has happened,” she demanded, and Janie wailed, “She will be so angry that I have come, because she wants no one to know what she has done. But she is bleeding and it won’t stop. She is dying, my lady, I am sure of it!”