Читать книгу Her Dark and Dangerous Lord - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 8

‘Is there any change?’ Stefan asked of the physician as he entered the bedchamber where the young woman lay in the great wooden bed. They had brought her to Chateau de Montifiori ten days earlier. For eight days the fever had raged as her skin heated and she tossed restlessly on the pillows; her long hair was matted by sweat and salt, for they had not dared to wash it. Ali Ben Hammed had suggested cutting it at one time, but Stefan had resisted, despite the physician’s insistence that her hair was taking her strength. However, on the ninth day the fever had waned and the girl seemed less restless. As yet she had not opened her eyes. Stefan walked to the bed and laid his hand on her forehead. Her temperature seemed normal. He looked at the Arab physician, a man skilled in the arts of medicine, and a friend of some nine years since he had rescued him from Sir Hugh Grantham, who had ordered his execution at the stake. Had Stefan not intervened, Ali would have been burned to death. He looked at the physician. ‘Why does she not wake? She no longer has a fever.’

‘I cannot tell,’ Ali replied, his face wizened by the hot sun of his native land and the passing of years. ‘I know that sometimes the mind lies dormant so that the body may heal. I believe that she is past the worst, my lord, though when she will awake I know not. She may not remember anything when she does, for the trauma she has experienced will be hard to bear, especially if she has lost loved ones.’

‘She would not have been travelling alone,’ Stefan said. ‘If the vessel was sunk, it is likely that all the others perished. It was mere chance that she was caught by the ropes to that mast and survived the perils of the ocean.’

‘As Allah wills,’ Ali said, steepling his hands and bending his head. ‘It was meant to be that you should find her, my lord. If you save a life, that life is yours. You are bound to her and must protect her henceforth.’

Stefan frowned. ‘If she ever wakes, and can tell me her name and her family, I shall see her restored to them,’ he said. ‘You should know that there is no room in my life for a woman…especially one like this. Her hair will be beautiful once it is washed free of the salt and sweat, and her hands are soft. She has never done manual work.’

‘A lady,’ Ali agreed, nodding wisely. ‘Do you not wonder why Allah brought her to you, my lord? These things are for a purpose. She has some place in your life, otherwise it would not have been so ordained.’

‘I would not offend you or Hassan,’ Stefan said, his features set in harsh lines. ‘But I have no God and I see no purpose for a woman in my life. I have lived by the sword and shall doubtless die by it. Lord Cowper is responsible for my father’s untimely death, and for the life I have led. I have sworn vengeance and when I am ready I shall return to England and take back what is mine. By the end of this year either he or I will lie in the earth. This I owe to my father’s shade!’

‘Your wound is not yet completely healed,’ Ali said, ignoring this speech for the most part. He knew as well as anyone that Stefan had suffered too much injustice, and that he had reason enough to be bitter. Yet he had never allowed this to interfere with his compassion for others. Ali was not the only one to have benefited; Stefan de Montfort had rescued and taken in more than one casualty of life. ‘It would be foolish to confront your enemy while you are at a disadvantage, would it not, my lord?’

‘And?’ Stefan’s gaze narrowed.

‘Who knows?’ Ali asked, deliberately obtuse. ‘The girl is here and she needs your help. I do not believe you would desert her.’

‘Once she knows who she is, I shall return her to her family. As that is probably in England, she may accompany me when I return to confront Lord Cowper.’

‘In the meantime, it is best that you rest, my lord,’ Ali said. ‘The young woman must also rest. Perhaps in time you may learn the reason she was sent to you.’

‘It was chance,’ Stefan said, ‘and the tides.’

‘Ah, chance and the tides.’ Ali smiled as he turned away. ‘Who but Allah controls the tides…’

Stefan was no longer listening. A low moaning sound came from behind him. He turned and looked at the bed. The woman was stirring, her eyelids fluttering. He bent over her, stroking the damp hair back from her forehead with hands that were surprisingly gentle for such a man.

‘Do not fear, mademoiselle,’ he said softly, the timbre of his voice deep and caressing. ‘You are quite safe here. You have been very ill, but you will soon be better now.’

The woman opened her eyes, which he saw were a deep blue-green, like the changing waters of the Mediterranean Sea on a sunlit day. She stared at him for a moment, looking bewildered. Her hand reached towards him and her lips moved, then her hand dropped and she closed her eyes once more. He had the oddest feeling that he had seen her before, though he could not place her in his memory.

‘What is wrong?’ Stefan asked of the physician. ‘Is she better or not? Her skin feels cool…and she opened her eyes for a moment.’

‘She is sleeping because she is exhausted,’ Ali said as he looked down at her. ‘She will live, my lord, but her recovery may be slow—and she will need your help.’

Stefan looked down at the woman. He had saved her from the sea and brought her to his home for Ali to nurse. She was beautiful, it was true, but he had seen lovely women before; he had taken those he desired to his bed but none had touched the inner core he guarded. This one was no different. She had tugged at something deep inside him as she lay hovering between life and death, but once she was well he would help her to find safety and then forget her.

‘We are sorry to learn of your tragic loss,’ Comte St Orleans said as he welcomed Harry to his home in Normandy. ‘Your late arrival made us wonder if something had happened and when your letter came my daughter was much affected by the tragedy.’

‘I thank you for your kind words, sir,’ Harry said and glanced at the young woman standing just behind her father. She was as beautiful as always and his heart caught with love, and yet his grief was still so raw and so terrible that he could not summon a smile for her. ‘I was delayed, for I have employed agents to search for any sign of Anne. I know there is little hope of her being found alive—we could see no sign of her in the water. However, if her body were found, I could at least tell our family that she rests in peace.’

Claire came forward, a look of such sorrow and sweetness on her face that Harry caught his breath. She was all he could ever desire in a wife, and he loved her so! ‘We are happy to have you here while the search continues, are we not, Father? And if there is anything we may do to help you, we should wish to be of service.’

‘Your kindness overwhelms me,’ Harry said and took her hand. He held it briefly, but made no attempt to kiss it, as he would have had they met under other circumstances. The gallantry and experience of a handsome courtier had fled before the tide of grief that possessed him, and he could be no more than the man he was at heart. ‘I fear it is an impossible task, but I have asked that any news should come to me here for the next few weeks, and I shall avail myself of your kind offer, made-moiselle.’

‘You must refresh yourself and rest after your journey,’ the Comte said, nodding his approval. He had not been certain that the young man they had met at the English court would do for his precious daughter, but now he saw that the polished manners of a popular courtier hid an honest heart, and one that grieved sincerely. It would be interesting to see what developed between the two over the next weeks, for the Comte would not influence his daughter one way or the other. Claire was free to decide for herself. ‘I shall also send out messengers for I may know more of the tides than you, Sir Harry. Between us, we should be able to find news of your sister if there is any to find…’

‘I pray that one of us is successful,’ Harry said. ‘Anne is my younger sister and I feel responsible for what happened to her.’

Claire rested her hand on his arm. ‘The sea is a cruel mistress, sir. You must grieve for your sister, but the blame does not lie with you.’

She opened her eyes, whimpering as the light hurt them. Her body felt so sore and painful, as if she had been punched and kicked, and her head ached. She put up a hand to touch her face and then her hair. It was matted, tangled and stiff, as if it had not been washed for a long time. She did not like the feel of it that way and shuddered, because something was terribly wrong, though for the moment she had no idea what it was. She tried to sit up, but fell back as the dizziness overcame her. She was too weak and she cried out for help.

‘So, you are awake at last,’ a man’s voice said and someone came to the bed. The sun had darkened his skin and his eyes were black like little jet beads. However, there was something reassuring about him. ‘Do not fear me, little one. You have been ill for a long time and I have tended you. Soon you will be better, but for the moment you must rest. A serving woman will bring you some nourishing soup. You must try to eat it because it will help build your strength.’

‘May I have some water?’ she asked.

‘Yes, of course.’

The man went to a small walnut chest-on-stand at the far side of the room, filled a cup with water from a pewter ewer and brought it back to her. He supported her as she took a few sips, but the effort exhausted her and she fell back against the pillows once more.

‘As I said, you must rest. Your strength will come back soon.’

‘Who are you?’ the woman asked. ‘And where am I?’

‘My name is Ali. I am a physician and this is the Chateau de Montifiori. We are both guests of Lord de Montfort.’

The woman frowned. She closed her eyes for a moment, and her hands worked restlessly on the covers, then she opened her eyes and looked at him once more.

‘I do not know you. I do not know Lord de Montfort…’ A little wail of despair issued from her lips. ‘I do not know who I am or where I came from.’

‘You were on a ship bound for France from England and the ship sank in a storm,’ Ali told her. ‘I do not know your name, little one—but it will come back to you in time.’

‘Will it?’ The woman’s eyes were fearful as she looked at him. ‘If the ship sank, how did I come here?’

‘Lord de Montfort pulled you from the water. He saved your life and he brought you here. He placed you in my care and I have used my arts to make you well. When you are better, you will be returned to your family.’

‘Were my family on the ship? Were they saved too?’

‘You were the only one found. Some ropes had secured you to the ship’s mast and it was for this reason that you survived. It was Allah’s will.’

‘Allah…’ The woman wrinkled her brow as she tried to understand what he was saying. ‘Is Allah not the god of the infidel Saracens?’

‘You must be a Christian, for only a Christian would speak thus of Allah,’ Ali told her and smiled, clearly amused. ‘We are followers of the beloved prophet Mohamed, and our faith is shared by many peoples of the east. Christians follow the prophet Jesus, but there is only one true god and that is Allah. However, I am a physician and I do not judge others by their beliefs.’

She looked at him. ‘I do not understand any of this,’ she said and yawned because she felt so weary. ‘I know that I have been taught to believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God…’

‘I shall not attempt to convert you,’ Ali told her. ‘Religion has caused too many wars and too many deaths. I believe as I believe, but my life is dedicated to saving life. You shall keep your faith and I mine. We shall not quarrel because of it.’

‘Please do not be angry with me. I did not mean to call you a Saracen infidel.’ She looked distressed. ‘You are kind…’

Ali smiled once more. ‘I am not offended, little one. I am an Arab and have been used to insults far worse than any you could think of, mistress. However, there are others within this house that might find such words offensive. It would be best if you kept your thoughts on these matters to yourself while you stay here.’

‘I think you are a very wise man,’ she said. ‘Please, may I sleep now?’

‘Sleep for as long as you wish, but I shall have a serving woman bring you some soup as soon as you wake again, for you need food.’

‘Thank you…and thank you for saving my life.’

‘It was Lord Montfort who saved you from the sea,’ Ali said. He watched as the woman slept. She was through the worst of her ordeal, but now she must learn to live again. Her mind had blocked out the terror of being taken by the sea, and with it had gone her identity, but he felt certain it would return once she had fully recovered. However, should it not, she would be alone in the world. Perhaps it was part of Allah’s plan that she had forgotten her past.

‘As Allah wills,’ he said piously and went from the chamber, to pass on the good news to Stefan de Mont-fort. He had haunted her chamber for days, though he had pretended to a casual interest in her recovery. Ali smiled as he wondered what the future might bring. He hoped that the man he loved as a brother might find peace at last.

‘Swallow a little more if you can,’ the serving woman said. ‘It will make you strong, lady, and you need to recover your strength.’

The woman looked at the serving girl. ‘How long have you lived in this house, Sulina? Why are you here, for I do not think you born to this land? If we are in France?’ Her eyes became dark with distress. ‘I do not even know where I am…but the word France comes to mind.’

‘You are in Normandy, at the home of the Lord de Montfort,’ Sulina said. ‘I am here because my uncle sold me into slavery after my parents died of a fever. I was but thirteen years of age and my first master used me ill, but then Stefan de Montfort bought me. He set me free, but when he gave up the wars and came here to live I chose to come with him. He allows me to serve him and I am content to be his servant. Here I am treated with kindness and respect. In my homeland I should be shunned and cast out by my family; they might stone me to death, for I am unclean in their eyes.’

‘That is sad for you, but Lord de Montfort seems kind and generous, though I have never seen him.’

‘He can be and often is,’ Sulina agreed. ‘But when he is angry he is fearful. I should not wish to be his enemy.’ She hesitated, then, ‘Stefan de Montfort is not an easy man to understand.’

‘And yet you love him, do you not?’

‘I admire him…I would love him if he looked at me in that way but he does not.’ Sulina was startled as the patient put back the covers and swung her legs over the bed. ‘You should not try to get up yet, my lady. Ali said you must rest for some days.’

‘I feel restless,’ the woman replied. ‘I need to walk, to wash myself and my hair.’

‘It is my job to bathe you and to wash your hair once you feel better,’ Sulina told her. ‘I shall wash your hair and your body, my lady, but once you are well you may use the bathing pool.’

‘What is a bathing pool? I have not heard of such a thing. I believe I have bathed in a wooden tub…’ She wrinkled her brow as she tried to remember, but failed. Sometimes she saw flashes, pictures in her mind, but they were all jumbled up and she could not understand what they meant.

‘In my country we often use a bathing pool,’ Sulina told her. ‘My lord has adopted some of our customs. at least those he approves of, and he approves of being clean.’

‘I am not clean. I can smell the stink on myself.’

‘I shall help you, my lady, but you are not well enough to walk or to use the bathing pool yet.’

‘No…’ She sighed and fell back on the bed. ‘I would be happy for you to bathe me, Sulina. I am too weak to do it yet.’

‘Lie still, then, lady, and let me tend you. I think your hair will be pretty once it is clean.’

She opened her eyes as she sensed someone near her. At first she thought it must be Sulina, but the subtle perfume she smelled did not belong to the serving woman. She had fallen asleep after eating the food Sulina brought her, for she was still weak. It was night now and the only light was a small candle, which gave off a dim light. A shadow moved towards her and she saw that it was a man…a stranger! She shrank back as he approached the bed, her instinct to be afraid. Who was he and why had he come to her in the dead of night?

‘Who are you?’ She swallowed hard, her heart racing wildly.

The shadowy figure paused, and then moved forwards slowly so that the light fell across his face. ‘I am Stefan de Montfort,’ he said in a deep, gentle voice she felt was familiar to her. Surely she had heard it before? Yet she did not know him. ‘I was out hunting when you came to your senses. We need fresh meat and it was a long day. I have but this minute returned. Forgive me that I did not come to you before, lady.’

She pushed herself up against the pillows, holding the covers to her naked breasts. Stefan de Montfort was a large man, powerful and impressive, a little frightening. He was not smiling as he looked at her. She wondered if he was angry with her, but did not know in what way she might have offended him.

‘I have been well cared for,’ she whispered. ‘I have been told that you saved my life, sir.’

‘I pulled you from the sea, but it is Ali who hath made you well again.’ His expression was almost stern as he gazed down at her, her hair freshly washed and spreading over the pillows in soft waves of corn-coloured silk. She was, as he had suspected, very beautiful now that she was awake. ‘Ali tells me that you do not know your name or from whence you came?’

‘I can remember nothing…at least, I know things, but I do not know who I am, where I came from or where I was going.’

‘That is unfortunate—I had hoped to return you to your family as soon as you were well enough to travel.’ He looked thoughtful, almost stern. ‘Well, it cannot be helped. I shall make inquiries about a vessel that sank and see if your family is trying to trace you.’

‘Supposing I have no family…supposing they were lost as the ship went down?’

‘We shall face that if the time comes. My house is large and you will find a place here for the moment, but you are not a prisoner and may leave whenever you wish.’

‘You are kind, sir.’

‘Kind?’ A harsh laugh escaped him. ‘I would not describe myself in that manner.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘You should have a name. Since we do not know your true name we must discover one that suits you. What would you call yourself? Maria, Elizabeth, Roseanne…’ His brows rose as her hand moved towards him. ‘You have remembered something?’

‘I am not sure, but Roseanne…no, Anne. I like the name Anne. It seems familiar to me, though I cannot remember where I heard it or if it was my name.’

‘But you like it, therefore it shall be your name. Anne—yes, it is a good name for you, lady. It suits you. I shall call you Anne.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to recall something, but the curtain in her mind remained in position. At the mention of the name Anne she had almost seen something…a face…faces and a house, but they had faded in seconds.

Tears caught at her throat, but she fought them. ‘Ali says that I shall remember one day. Do you think it is true, my lord?’

She gazed at him as he stood there, a powerful man, feet apart, arms crossed. He was dressed in a nobleman’s gown of some deep blue cloth braided with rich gold, his dark blond hair touching his shoulders, his face tanned by the sun. He was not exactly handsome, but striking, his features carved, almost harsh.

‘Ali understands many things that affect the body, but I do not think anyone truly understands the mind,’ Stefan answered honestly. ‘How can we know what makes one man clever and another stupid? You are an intelligent woman. Everything about you tells me that you come from a good home and family, and you speak English better than French. In time we may discover who you are or your memory may return. Until then you must make yourself at home here, Anne.’

‘But what shall I do if I never remember?’ Her eyes were wide and dark with fear.

‘Then your life begins here,’ Stefan told her. ‘When I was a young man, about your own age, I was forced to leave all that I knew and loved. I found a new life and a new identity as a mercenary. My life was stolen from me, as the sea has robbed you of yours. I shall help you, Anne—and somehow you will find the courage to become yourself once more.’ His harsh features softened slightly and she saw a man who was very different. She wanted to be comforted by his words, but it was so strange not to remember her own name.

It was frightening to think that she might never know who she was, never remember her mother or father…or if she had sisters and brothers. The future seemed dark, terrifying, and yet she sensed that she was safe here in this house. Sulina and Ali had told her that Stefan de Montfort had sheltered others who needed a home and a protector. He had said that she must think of it as a new beginning…that her life began here. A part of her mind protested, because she wanted to know who she was and where she came from, and yet another part of her felt reassured by his words.

‘Will I be a servant like Sulina?’

‘Sulina chooses to serve me,’ he replied. ‘Others also choose to serve, but they are free to leave as they please. You will be a guest. You are a lady, Anne, a woman of gentle birth. Everyone in this house will treat you as such.’ His voice had at that moment a deep, rich timbre, its softness like velvet, reassuring and comforting.

‘Thank you. I do not mind working if I can be of help…perhaps sewing. I am not as clever with my needle as Catherine, of course, but—’ Anne broke off and stared at him.

‘You have remembered something?’ Stefan’s eyebrows rose, his eyes narrowed and intent.

Anne hesitated, then shook her head. ‘I remember there was once someone called Catherine and she helped me with my sewing, but it was a long time ago.’

‘Was Catherine your mother?’

‘I do not know,’ Anne replied and looked bewildered. ‘How can I know that Catherine was a better needlewoman than me, but not know who she is?’

‘I do not know,’ Stefan said. He turned as the door opened and someone came in and he saw the physician. ‘She is awake and we have decided that her name is to be Anne—at least for the moment.’

Ali came forwards so that Anne could see his face. ‘I see you are well, lady. I shall not disturb you—unless you have need of me? You are not in pain?’

‘I am quite well, thank you.’

‘I shall leave you to rest, lady.’

‘And I shall go too, Anne,’ Stefan said. ‘It is not fitting that I should be in your room. I came only to see for myself that you were well. I shall not see you again until you are able to join us in the hall downstairs. Goodnight, lady. Do not fret too much. You are safe here and in time you will remember all you should.’ He turned to Ali. ‘Come, my friend, share a cup of wine with me. I have something I wish to discuss with you.’

Anne lay back against the pillows as the two men went out together. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember something…anything that would tell her who and what she was. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, but she dashed it away with her hand. She would not weep tears of self-pity. Lord de Montfort had told her she was safe here and for some reason she believed him. She must be content to stay here until she remembered who she was. The name Catherine was at the back of her mind. She tried to put a face to the name and failed, but something told her that Catherine had once been important in her life.

‘Do you believe that she has truly lost her memory?’ Stefan asked of the physician. ‘She picked the name Anne for herself. It seemed to please her. I think it may well be her own name.’

‘It is possible, my lord. Her memory may come back in little strands like the mists in a forest, weaving between the trees, revealing clear spaces where the canopy is broken, and concealing the rest.’

‘You do not think that she is pretending that she cannot recall her name?’

‘Why would she do that, my lord?’

Stefan shook his head, feeling an ache in his side, a constant reminder of the last woman that had tried to trap him. ‘No, I am too suspicious. I plucked her from the sea. An enemy could not have sent her. She is innocent and I am unkind to doubt her.’

‘I believe her distress is genuine, my lord. She will begin to remember things slowly, a little at a time, and then perhaps it will all come to her—or it may not. The mind is a strange thing.’

‘Yet she remembered that Catherine taught her how to sew—and that she was not as good at her work as the other woman.’

‘She did not know who Catherine was?’

‘Possibly her mother or someone she knew well.’

Ali nodded. ‘I do not think she would think of her mother as Catherine. It seems as if the woman was important to her, but perhaps not of prime importance in her life. If she remembered a lover or her mother the rest might come, but until then it may be that she remembers only fragments of her life.’

‘We must give her time,’ Stefan said. ‘My wound broke open again as we hunted this morning and has bled. I believe I need some of your salves, old friend.’

‘You should still be resting.’

‘We needed meat for the pot,’ Stefan said. ‘We took a wild boar and two hinds today, besides some game that my peregrine brought down. We shall eat well enough for the next few weeks.’

Ali nodded. He knew from experience that it was a thankless task to tell Lord de Montfort to rest. He would push himself to the limit, and his wound would heal in time, as it always had. The forests about the chateau teemed with game, and hunting was a way of life for the lord. Stefan took his position seriously and was well respected and liked by his tenants and retainers alike.

Most of them looked forwards to the day when their lord would settle down and take a wife, but those who knew him best understood that he would not allow himself any peace until his brother and father’s murderers were brought to justice.

‘Is there any way we can help her to regain her memory?’

Ali looked at his lord’s face. There was a hint of impatience in his eyes, an odd expression on his face. ‘I think it must be left to time, my lord. She will find her own way if left to herself.’

Stefan nodded. Anne was beautiful and a part of him wanted to keep her here at the chateau, but another felt it would be best to send her on her way as soon as possible, before she had time to work her way under his guard. Something about her drew him like a moth to a flame. While she lay unconscious he had spent time sitting by her bed, but from now on he would keep out of her way as much as possible. He had no time for a gentle, lovely woman—or love! He must remember that he had made a vow to take revenge for his father’s murder!

‘Excuses!’ Lord Cowper scowled as the man told him what he already knew. Stefan de Montfort and that hell-hound of a Saracen he counted a friend had succeeded in leaving England alive and were no doubt safe at his chateau in France. ‘My instructions were that he was not to be allowed to leave England alive! Am I served by dolts and incompetents? How was he able to get away?’

‘Your plan failed, my lord. The Saracen suspected a trap and came looking for him. We think Sir Hugh killed the Lady Madeline, as you planned to incriminate Lord de Montfort, and then the Saracen arrived and killed him with one slash of his wicked blade.’

‘Where were the rest of you?’

‘We tried to stop them escaping,’ the servant said and flinched as his master struck him in the face. ‘Lord de Montfort was wounded in the side, but he is a strong man and with the Saracen at his side they fought their way out.’

‘Curse him!’ Lord Cowper snarled. ‘We should have killed him years ago instead of his brother, but the younger son was the father’s favourite and he would not have believed ill of him. The years Stefan de Montfort spent as a mercenary have made him as wily as a fox and sharper than a serpent.’

Lord Cowper paced the room. He knew that once his enemy had recovered his strength he would come after him, and this time he would not be denied. His only chance was to strike first.

‘We must go to Normandy,’ he said, making up his mind. ‘He will be more relaxed on his own land. We shall watch and wait, and when the time comes we shall kill him.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’ Fritz did not attempt to point out that the Chateau de Montifiori was well guarded and that it might be safer to stay here and let the enemy come to them. Lord Cowper was a man of uncertain temper and anyone who thwarted his will would meet a sticky end. It was only that he was one of the few able to actually recognise Lord de Montfort that had saved his life this time. Some of the others involved in the fiasco had not been as lucky and were already beneath the earth.

Cowper rounded on him, eyes bulging, flaming with fury. He was an ugly man with a bull neck and a mottled colour that spoke of a life of indulgence. He struck Fritz again, making him stagger back.

‘Of course it is as I wish. You failed me once, oaf. Do it again and I’ll hang you and all the other dolts who betrayed me. Tell the men to prepare. We leave in the morning.’

Fritz backed away, bowing to the master he disliked. If it were not for his sister, Helene, and his mother, nothing would keep him in this creature’s service, even though he knew that he was Cowper’s bastard. The lord had forced himself on Fritz’s mother but never acknowledged that the child she bore was his. However, Fritz’s sister was Cowper’s mistress. He treated her well enough, giving her rich clothes and jewels, but she was his slave. If Fritz disobeyed his master, Helene would suffer and his mother and stepfather would be turned from their home. Fritz knew that his sister was held by a similar threat, and he suspected that she hated her master as much as he did.

‘One day,’ he muttered beneath his breath. ‘One day he will go too far…’ A quick knife thrust in the belly might be enough, but fear held Fritz’s hand. If he made a mistake and Cowper didn’t die, others besides himself would suffer.

‘When may I get up?’ Anne asked as the physician came to see her. She was restless, anxious to be up and about, because lying here alone only made her more aware of the dark places in her mind.

‘You should rest for another few days,’ Ali told her and smiled. ‘It is good that you are feeling better, lady, but you have been very ill and you are not yet strong.’

‘I think I could come down,’ Anne said. ‘It is lonely lying here alone. I think about who I am and what happened to me…and it frightens me.’

‘You need something to occupy your mind,’ Ali told her. ‘Do you think you could read a book—or would you prefer some sewing?’

‘I should love to read,’ Anne said with a sigh. ‘But books are so expensive…’

‘Nevertheless, Lord de Montfort has many,’ Ali said and smiled at her. ‘I shall ask him if you may borrow one to help pass the time—would you like a Bible or a book of fables?’

‘Is there such a thing?’ Anne’s interest was caught. ‘I should love to read a story. A story such as the storyteller told at Christmastide.’ She remembered that Christmas had been a happy time for her as a child, but she could not recall the people who had made it so.

‘Then I shall speak to Lord de Montfort and ask him,’ Ali told her. ‘In the meantime I shall bring you something to help you sleep.’

‘You are all so kind.’ She sighed and lay back against the pillows. Everyone was kind to her, but she wished she knew who she was and whence she came.

Stefan looked down at the woman’s face as she lay sleeping. He did not know what drew him to her chamber at this hour, except that she haunted his thoughts waking or sleeping. He had forced himself to stay away from her for some days, but he was not satisfied to hear the women say she was doing well, and had come to see for himself, and to bring the book of legends and fables she had requested. He placed the leather-covered volume on the chest-on-stand beside her bed. How lovely she looked with her hair spread on the pillow! The sight of her touched something deep inside him.

She was deeply asleep, though now and then she cried out, and he leaned closer to catch the words.

‘Mother…’ she whimpered. ‘Mother…’

Stefan was tempted to stroke her hair as he had while she was ill, but the scent of her wafted into his nostrils, setting up a fierce craving for something he did not recognise and he drew back. If he woke her, he might be tempted to do more than simply touch her.

Cursing himself for a fool, he turned and left her. He should not have come. Yet she drew him to her again and again, making him aware that his life was empty, had long been empty of all the things that he had desired as a young man.

Foolish dreams! He frowned as he strode away from the house to the garden and the pool where he bathed whenever he was restless. He had given up all hope when he left England, banished from home and all that he loved. It would be stupid to let a young woman make him dissatisfied with the life he had chosen for himself, for if he gave in to the disturbing feelings she roused in him, he would become soft and lose his resolve!

‘You look so sad,’ Claire said as they walked together in the grounds of her father’s estate. ‘I am sorry that nothing has been heard of your poor sister, but it was unlikely that she would be found alive.’

Harry looked down at her lovely face. Her eyes were soft with concern for him, and he felt that she was sincere in all she said. He knew that she was right. Anne was gone, lost to the sea. He had grieved for her for the past three weeks, and in another week he must return to England and the court. Before that he would ask Claire if she was willing to return with him as his wife.

‘I know that I should put my sorrow behind me,’ Harry said, regret in his face. ‘I came here to ask you to be my wife, Claire, and I have not had the heart to do it. Tomorrow I must leave, because I want to visit my parents before I return to court. I had hoped you would accompany me as my wife, but I have not courted you or told you of my feelings…’

Claire smiled at him gently. ‘I knew why you came,’ she said, ‘and I have understood why you have not spoken. In the circumstances it could not be otherwise. I respect you, Harry—and your grief for Anne has shown me that you feel deeply. When we met at court I thought you might be too proud and careless to make me a good husband, but sharing your sorrow has brought us closer. If you were to ask me to marry you, Harry, you might be pleased with my answer.’

Harry looked at her uncertainly, then went down on his knee before her. ‘I love you beyond my life, Claire. I would do anything for you and protect you with my life. If you could bring yourself to accept my offer, I should be happy to wed you.’

‘Yes, Harry, I shall marry you,’ Claire told him with a smile. ‘Delay your journey two days so that we may be betrothed and I shall accompany you to your home. Once your parents are over their grief, I shall wed you.’

‘You are as generous and good as you are lovely,’ Harry said and stood up. He drew her to him, bending his head to kiss her lips. ‘But will your father allow you to come with me—and shall you brave it, my love? The sea is always dangerous, Claire. After what happened to my sister, I am reluctant to expose you to such a journey.’

‘Anne was unfortunate,’ Claire said and held his hand. ‘No one could have expected such freak waves… and she should have gone below deck when you begged her to. Never fear that I shall not obey you, my love.’

Harry smiled down at her, touching her cheek with his fingertips. ‘You have courage, Claire, and I would die rather than let anything happen to you. I would have gone into the sea for Anne had they not struck me from behind, but nothing would stop me if it were you.’ He bent his head and kissed her once more. ‘If your father permits, we shall be betrothed and then I shall take you to my parents.’

Claire held her hand out to him. ‘We must find my father and speak to him, for there is no time to be lost.’

‘I know that seeing you will help to ease my mother’s unhappiness,’ Harry said. ‘She will grieve long and hard for her daughter, but she will welcome my wife with open arms.’

‘I look forward to meeting her,’ Claire told him. ‘Look, Father is coming to meet us.’ She looked at her father’s face and then at Harry. ‘I believe he has some news, Harry. Perhaps he has heard something at last.’

‘If Anne’s body has been found at least I can make sure that she has a decent burial.’ Holding Claire’s hand, he went to meet the Comte. ‘Sir, we have been seeking you.’

‘And I have been seeking you,’ the Comte told him. ‘The news I bring is better than we might have hoped, though it is not certain.’

‘Sir…’ Harry stared at him, an icy tingle starting at the nape of his neck. ‘You have heard news of Anne?’

‘I cannot be certain it was your sister, but my agent has been told of a young woman plucked from the wreckage of a ship at about the point the debris from your ship might have drifted to by the next morning.’

‘Plucked from the sea?’ Harry stared at him and let go of Claire’s hand. ‘Are you saying…? No, it cannot be.’

‘The girl taken from the sea was still alive,’ Comte St Orleans said and frowned. ‘The man who gave us this information said she was unconscious and looked near death. When she was taken from the ship she had not recovered her senses, but she was still breathing.’

‘God be praised!’ Harry cried. ‘You say she was taken from the ship—does this informant know where she was taken?’

‘I fear that he knows no more than he has told me,’ the Comte said. ‘You may question him yourself, but I do not think he can help you much more. If you wish to search for her you must travel to Normandy, for it was there the ship was headed, and ask for news. It is possible that someone may have heard of her.’ He looked at his daughter. ‘What was it you wished to tell me, Claire?’

‘I think it will keep for another day,’ she said and gazed up at Harry. ‘You must look for Anne. I know that you love me and your promise was sincerely meant, but you would never rest if you did not try to find Anne.’

The Comte looked at Harry. ‘It is settled that you are to marry?’

‘With your blessing, sir. I would have taken Claire to my parents had this news not come.’

‘You must look for your sister,’ the Comte told him, agreeing with his daughter. ‘I shall take Claire to England and we shall break the news to Lord Melford. It will be much better if your family know that you are searching for Anne, Harry. Claire and I will wait at Melford for your return, whatever the news.’

Harry’s eyes dwelled on Claire’s sweet face. ‘You will not mind if I leave you now?’

‘I love you and I know what Anne means to you,’ Claire told him. ‘It may come to nothing, but you have something now. Someone may know the people who took Anne. Clearly they must have meant to care for her or the ship’s captain would have abandoned her to the nuns as soon as they reached land.’

Harry took her hand and kissed it. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘It is hardly fair that I should leave you, having just asked you to wed me, but you are right. I must find Anne if I can, but in time I shall come to England to find you, and God willing I shall bring my sister with me…’

Anne looked at herself in the small hand mirror Sulina had brought her. Her hair was flowing loose over her shoulders, kept in place by a small cap of black velvet framed with gold threads. Her gown was also fashioned of some soft black cloth, and the hanging sleeves were embroidered with beads and gold thread. It suited her well enough, though had she chosen for herself she would have picked green or blue. However, the gown had been brought for her and was a gift from the lord of this manor. Anne was grateful for his generosity and had made no complaint when she was given the gown to wear. She knew it had not been made for her, because Sulina had altered it to fit her. Anne was not certain whether it had belonged to Lord de Montfort’s mistress or was simply something he had bought from a dealer in such things.

‘My lord is waiting below,’ Sulina told her with a faint smile. ‘He has asked every day if you were ready to go down. I think he is impatient to see you, lady.’

‘He might have come to visit me and asked for himself,’ Anne said, feeling slightly aggrieved that he had not done so.

‘It would not have been fitting once you had recovered your senses,’ Sulina told her. ‘What would your family think if it became known that Lord Montfort had frequented your bedchamber while you lay recovering from your illness?’

‘I do not know if I have a family,’ Anne reminded her. ‘But I dare say you are right. I cannot think that my mother would approve—if she is still living.’ Her eyes were sad as she thought of the woman she could not remember. Something told her that her mother had loved her and that she had been happy at home.

She followed Sulina down the wide staircase to the hall below. The chateau was old, the walls built of a honey-coloured stone hung with silk tapestries, and the ceilings were high. The floors were made of wood on the upper floor, covered in places with brightly coloured rugs and carpets that had an eastern look, but on the ground floor they were tiled with marble. Most of the furniture was heavily carved, dark wood that also had an eastern look. Anne knew that this house was very different to the one she had been raised in, though she could not remember her home, but everything here was strange, unusual. She did not think it was the style that would be normally found on French soil, though she could not know that for certain. Sometimes now she saw a picture of a house set in a pleasant valley, but it was only in brief flashes and she had not mentioned it to anyone. She thought that perhaps the house had been her home, but as she did not know where it was to be found that did not help her to remember.

As she entered the large hall, which was the heart of the chateau, she saw two men standing together. They turned their heads as she approached. Anne caught her breath, for one of them had skin the colour of polished walnut and the bottom of his face was scarred dreadfully, the skin puckered and discoloured as though he had been burned, his mouth twisted to one side. His dark eyes went over her, his gaze narrowed and thoughtful. Anne felt nothing but pity for him, because she sensed that at one time in his life he had suffered terribly.

‘Ah, the lady Anne,’ Stefan said, inclining his head in welcome. ‘We are glad that you feel well enough to join us at last. This is Hassan, the best friend a man could have. He helped me to pull you from the sea.’

Anne dipped a curtsy to them. ‘Sir, I must thank you as I have thanked others who helped me.’

‘You are welcome, lady,’ Hassan said. There was a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. ‘Forgive me, but as you came towards us I thought that I had seen you before this day.’

Stefan stared at him. ‘You do not speak of when we pulled her from the water. Can you recall where you saw Anne the first time?’ He too had felt that he might have seen her, but could not recall when or where.

Hassan’s eyes were on her. Anne shivered, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement as she anticipated his reply, but he shook his head and she was disappointed.

‘Forgive me, but I do not remember where I saw you. There was something in the way you walked and held yourself, but the memory is not strong. At the moment it eludes me, but it may yet return.’

Stefan looked thoughtful. If he had seen her, it must have been brief and at a time when he was not taking much notice, for she was too beautiful to have slipped his mind had he ever spoken to her.

‘Memory is a strange thing; it eludes us when we try to recall something and returns when we least expect it. If you have truly seen Anne before, it will come to you, Hassan.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Hassan replied. ‘I should leave if I am to reach my destination before nightfall. I wish you well, lady.’

‘Thank you…’ Anne watched as he walked from them. She turned to look at Lord de Montfort. ‘It would be a strange coincidence if we had met before you rescued me, though I doubt it can be so, for I do not think I have been to France before this time. Everything here is strange to me.’

‘You are in Normandy, and my home contains many things I have collected in other lands,’ Stefan said. ‘Why are you so sure that you had not been to France before this?’

‘I do not know. Sometimes I seem to know things instinctively, without truly remembering, but you told me yourself that I speak English better than French.’

‘Yes, that is true. Hassan might have seen you recently, for we were returning from a visit to England when we found you. He is very observant and it is possible he saw you only briefly.’ Possible that he had seen her too—but where?

‘I thought your ship was travelling along the French coast?’

‘We were swept down the coast by the fierce winds and decided to run before them until we found a sheltered cove. Had we made land before the storm hit, we should not have been there that morning.’

‘I was more fortunate than I knew,’ Anne said and shivered. ‘Had you not seen me…’

‘You were close to death. Another hour or two…’ Stefan shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Who knows why these things happen?’

‘Ali would say it was as Allah wills,’ Anne said and her eyes sparkled with mischief. In that moment the shadows fell away from her and she was beautiful, a spirited girl whose smile held enchantment. The change was so marked that it made Stefan catch his breath.

He laughed huskily. ‘I see you have recovered your spirit, whatever else you lack, my lady.’ His eyes went over her with a hint of disapproval. ‘That gown does not do you justice, Anne. It was found in a chest in the storeroom and must have belonged to the late lady of the manor, but all her gowns were black, for I believe she was widowed many years. We must buy some silk and have something new made for you. I believe that a fair has come to a town near by. If you feel well enough on the morrow, we could go there together and choose something from the merchants.’

Anne was pleased that the gown had not belonged to his mistress, though she did not know why it should matter. She smiled at him, her heart beating faster as his gaze intensified. He looked so very different when his features were relaxed by humour. When he actually smiled he became a man she found fascinating, instead of the stern cold master of the chateau who frightened her a little.

‘You have already been generous to me,’ she said, her eyes wide and questing as she met his gaze. ‘It was good of you to lend me your book, for I know such things are costly.’

‘I have many books,’ Stefan told her. ‘You are welcome to read them while you stay here.’

‘You are too good, sir. I do not know what I may do to repay your kindness.’

‘I have done nothing that common decency did not command of me,’ Stefan replied. ‘Ali says that if you save a life you are responsible for that life. Perhaps he is right.’

‘Silk is expensive…’ Anne’s mouth felt dry. She felt as if an invisible bond drew her to him. His gaze was stern, but sometimes his voice was like dark velvet, caressing her, soothing her. ‘I have no money…nothing to offer in return.’

‘Believe me, you have much to offer,’ Stefan said. He moved closer, reached out, tipping her chin so that she looked up at him. ‘If I were less honourable I would keep you with me, make you my mistress. You are a beautiful woman, Anne. I could happily lie with you, but honour demands that I must help you to return to your family.’

Anne’s pulses raced. For a moment she could not breathe. She ached for something, but did not know what she craved. What was this feeling he had roused in her? She thrilled to his smile and the sound of his voice, and yet he scared her so much. Her eyes widened, innocent and inviting. Stefan bent his head and kissed her softly on the mouth. Her body swayed towards him, and he made a harsh sound in his throat, pulling her hard against him. His kiss intensified, his tongue seeking entrance as her lips parted beneath his, a sensation so sweet and heady sweeping through her that she was ready to swoon. She wanted it to go on and on for ever, and she wanted something more, though she knew not what she longed for. When he let her go abruptly, she almost fell.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Your eyes invited and I took advantage of your innocence. I shall not sully that innocence with lust, for you must know now that I can never love you. All that was tender and innocent died in me a long time ago, Anne. I am not fit to be the husband of any gentle woman—and especially one like you. I should not have kissed you.’

Anne touched her fingers to her lips in wonder. Instinctively, she knew that it was the first time she had been kissed in such a way. No man had ever made her feel this way before, she was certain, and felt the invisible bond that seemed to fasten itself about her heart.

‘I liked it,’ she said, for there was no artifice in her. ‘Why do you say you are not fit to be my husband?’

‘I have lived as a mercenary for many years. Have you any idea of what that means?’ Anne shook her head. ‘It means that I fought for money. I killed men… and sometimes women; even children died in the cities we stormed and the ships we sent to the bottom of the ocean. I did not fight for honour or for my country, but for the gold it earned me and because of the hatred inside me. Do you understand what I am saying? I have seen things that no man should see and done things that shame me. There is blood on my hands, Anne. I do not think you would want such a man to be the father of your children.’

‘But they told me…Sulina told me you rescued her and Ali.’ Anne’s voice shook because his words conjured up pictures of horror that made her shudder. ‘They said you were a good man.’

‘A few good deeds amongst the bad,’ Stefan said, his coldness shattering her illusions. ‘I doubt they will be enough to save me from the fires of hell. No, little one, I am not for you. I promise that you are safe from me. That kiss was a moment of weakness, nothing more. Run away now and find something to amuse yourself with, Anne. I must speak with my steward. Tomorrow we shall visit the fair and buy silks for your new gowns.’

Anne stared after him as he walked away. Tears burned behind her eyes. Her mind was in turmoil and she did not know how she felt. When he kissed her she had experienced wonderful sensations that made her want to stay in his arms for ever, but then his harsh words made her tremble.

What kind of a man was Stefan de Montfort? His expression as he spoke of his past was so harsh, so angry, that he had frightened her. He described himself as a man who had taken life wantonly, and she saw pictures in her mind of burning cities and ships on fire, women and children screaming as the ship sank beneath the waves. He had lived by the sword, his life harsh, cruel and unforgiving.

How could she want to be the wife of such a man? And yet when he had spoken of buying her a new gown, when he had said that he could happily lie with her… when he had laughed with her about the physician…her heart had sung for joy. She felt confused, distressed, her heart pulled two ways.

Anne shook her head as she went out into the garden. The sun was shining and the air was heavy with the scent of roses and lavender. The sheltered gardens of the chateau were guarded with high walls and a thick hedge all around. It was warm and safe here and the pictures of hell and damnation Lord de Montfort had conjured up faded as she walked amongst the flowers.

She began to pick lavender stalks, smoothing the flower heads between her fingers and inhaling their scent. Now was the time to harvest some of nature’s bounty before all this beauty went to waste. She would make lavender bags to place in chests of linen. It was her mother’s habit every summer and a job she had always enjoyed.

In her mind, Anne saw a woman smiling at her. They were in a garden much like this, but more open, and they were picking flowers.

‘We shall make some lavender essence,’ the woman told her. ‘There is nothing so helpful when one has a headache.’

Anne felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks as the picture faded. She was sure the woman was her mother. They had gathered flowers and herbs together every year to make the essences that her mother used in her stillroom.

Why could she not remember her own name? Why did she not know where she belonged? Anne felt a deep longing to go home. She was afraid that, if she stayed here in the chateau, the Lord de Montfort might break her heart.