"It was necessary," she said defensively. "She refused to marry you. Do you think I wanted us to go against the king?"

"You took it upon yourself—without your lord's consent?" Rolfe ventured softly.

"I could hardly depend on him to get her to the altar," she said with a glance of contempt at William that she failed to hide. "The king must be obeyed."

"There were other ways!" Rolfe said furiously. "You could have sent me word and left the matter to me!"

Judith stared at him incredulously. "You dare to quibble about the means, when you were only after her land. Itoldyou she was forced to wed you. You got what you wanted. What difference does it make how you got it?"

It took every bit of self-restraint Rolfe possessed not to strike her. "You know nothing about it."

"Not so!" she said, sneering. What was he making this fuss about? She had enough to deal with already. "You offered for Pershwick before you offered for Leonie. When I refused both offers, you asked the king's help!"

The words out, Judith paled. "I—I mean—I—"

"Judith." William interrupted her stammering with a weary sigh.

"How many offers have you refused in my stead? How long would you have kept Leonie unmarried?"

"She did not want to marry," Judith asserted. "I saw no need to give up

. . . her lands were well run. Why should someone else profit from them?"

The two men stared at her silently.

"What did I do that was so wrong?" Judith demanded. "I tell you Leonie did not want to marry. Why else would she flatly refuse Lord Kempston?"

"She had reasons for refusing me of which you know nothing," Rolfe interjected coldly. "Madame, what you have done to Leonie warrants . . . but you are not my concern. All I demand from you is the name of the man who follows your orders, any kind of orders."

Her chin jutted out stubbornly. "There is not a man here who would hesitate—"

William hit her again. "Tell him what he wants to know, or by God—"

"Richer Calveley!" Judith threw the name out for whatever leniency it might bring her. She didn't give Richer another thought, and would never have considered protecting him. "He—he is my master-at-arms and was the logical one to force Leonie because she knew what he was capable of."

Rolfe turned and left the room, leaving William to deal with his wife in whatever way he would.

When he found Richer Calveley in the barracks with his men, a change took place in Rolfe's countenance. His fury hid itself deep within him.

The man was huge and brutish, the arms and chest beefy, the hands enormous. Leonie's beating must have been brutal. His little wife was incapable of defending herself against a man this size. How brave and foolish she must have been to think she could withstand this monster!

She never had a chance, and so Calveley would have no chance.

When Richer saw Rolfe d'Ambert's eyes he knew instantly why he had been sought out. He spared a moment to curse the faithless lady who had thrown him to the wolves. But he had known when she ordered him to beat Lord William's daughter what might come of it.

He had enjoyed that experience because the lady was a noblewoman, but her status was also what condemned him. It didn't matter who had ordered him to do what he did. There was not a lord in the realm who would hesitate to kill him for raising his hand to a lady. And this was the lady's husband.

Richer began to sweat, wondering in what manner his death would come, for death is what he saw in the lord's eyes. His death might be the most horrible imaginable, torture to last indefinitely. No one would prevent it. He was surrounded by men who followed his orders, yet not one of them would dare defy a man of d'Ambert's stature. It was a putrid feeling, the fear that took hold in his gut, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop what would happen to him.

"Richer Calveley?" Rolfe did not wait for confirmation, for he could smell the man's fear. His voice was curiously flat, making it sound all the more ominous. "For what you did to my lady, I am going to kill you.

Draw your sword."

It took a second for Richer to realize his good fortune, and then there was a rush of giddiness as he realized his death would not be drawn out after all. The lord was not going to take advantage of his rank. He was going to give him a fair fight, more than a fair fight, because he was not wearing armor, though Richer had at least a modicum of protection in his thick leather jerkin.

There was a chance for Richer to win, a good chance, but it was set somewhere in his mind that he was going to die, and that destroyed his chance, worked against him, and undermining his skill. Once his sword was in his hand, he swung wildly.

Rolfe's sword found its mark with his first effort, sliding smoothly through flesh and bone to pierce the heart. No pity stirred in Rolfe's own breast, no regret for killing a man. In his mind was a picture of his Leonie suffering under those brutish hands. He turned and walked away before Calveley's large body had collapsed to the floor.

Chapter 42

THE pasture was abloom with summer flowers warmed by the midafternoon sun. By contrast, the surrounding forest was dark and gloomy. The forest kept the eight men and their horses well hidden.

Alain Montigny was satisfied when he looked their way that his seven men could not be seen. A group of ragtag thieves and landless knights like himself, they were Alain's following, their needs paid for with the money the Crewel steward had stolen for Alain. But that easy money was no longer available since Erneis had been found out. Alain had dispatched him quickly, his usefulness over. It still rankled Alain that Leonie had been the one to catch his man.

Alain needed money desperately now. The few travelers his men and he had robbed produced light purses, and there wasn't enough money to keep his band of men fed. The men wanted to move on to the better traveled routes, farther south, but Alain had his own personal reason for being where he was. He had no intention of leaving until he found his chance to kill the man responsible for his terrible reversal of fortune. He had almost succeeded when he'd set the Crewel mill on fire and drawn his prey to where he could take a good aim at him. What an unexpected bit of bad luck that his arrow hadn't found a vital spot.

It was taking too long, waiting to find Rolfe d'Ambert away from his army, or separated from his escort. If only Alain could catch him unprotected, d'Ambert could be overcome by Alain's men and easily killed. Then Alain could marry Leonie and have back all that was his, all that he had lost.

It was Erneis who had told him that Leonie's people were harassing the Black Wolf. How Alain had loved Leonie for that! It was also Erneis who told him that she was being forced to marry d'Ambert. At first, Alain was enraged. But then he decided it was a good thing, for Leonie would so hate being forced that she would hate her husband as much as Alain did. She would make a good widow. She would marry Alain, and with her support, Alain would petition the king for a pardon. The plan would work, all of it, for what man, even the king, could resist Leonie's sweet charms, or her sweet body, if it came to that?

Alain watched the woods like a starving hawk. This time, she had to come. It was not easy getting messages to her, for the villagers were content under their new lord. There was only one man willing to deliver his messages to Leonie. The other men remembered Alain's heavy hand too well and were likely to report his presence to d'Ambert. Alain vowed he would remember that once he was master of Crewel again.

Leonie had not responded to his first two notes, but it was doubtless difficult for her to come to him alone as he'd requested. Well, d'Ambert was away from Crewel, so Alain waited eagerly to see her . . . eagerly and very anxiously. The men were very restless and bad-tempered. It was getting harder and harder to convince them that they would possess greater wealth if they would only be patient a little longer.

A large ransom would solve one of Alain's problems, and keep the men pliable for a while. Should he tell Leonie that he intended to ransom her? If she agreed to come away with him peacefully it would make his life easier. After all, he didn't have to tell her everything. He might tell her only part of his plan.

The sound of horses coming from the wrong direction threw Alain into a panic, but then he saw her. She was leaving the woods with her escort, but coming from Pershwick. Her men-at-arms were her own, wearing Pershwick colors.

Leonie had left immediately for Pershwick when Alain's third message came. Once there she dismissed her escort, telling them she would use a guard from Pershwick to bring her back to Crewel, as she planned to stay the night at Pershwick. She wanted none of Rolfe's men to be able to tell him she had met a man in a field. But she wanted no more notes from Alain, either, and the only way to stop them was to talk to him.

It was impossible to leave Pershwick alone, for Sir Guibert insisted she take at least six men, and he could not be talked out of it. But they were her men, and when she told them to wait for her at the edge of the woods, no one argued.

Within plain sight of her guard, she rode slowly toward Alain. Her heart beat harder as she approached the man she hadn't seen in half a year. It seemed even longer than that, for she had been through so much and seen more of the world in that time than in all the rest of her life. And Alain, how had he fared since leaving? She supposed his presence in the region meant one of two things. Either he was no longer running, had perhaps reason to believe he might be given a royal pardon, or else he was so desperate that he felt in no more danger there near his old home than he did anywhere else. Poor Alain.

When they'd last met, a cold winter sun had lit his blond hair to gold and turned his cheeks ruddy pink, making him look younger than twenty. As she neared him, she was dismayed to see how haggard he looked. There was a deep weariness in his features, and his eyes glinted with a cunning that made her wary.

"Alain." Leonie kept her greeting reserved as he lifted her down from her horse. "I thought you meant to remain in Ireland."

He smiled bitterly. "I did. But when I arrived there, I found my kin were staunch supporters of Henry's. Not one was willing to incur his displeasure by harboring me. They assisted me in leaving as soon as I arrived."

"I am sorry," Leonie said sympathetically, but she needed to come to the point. "You never did tell me what you were accused of, Alain, and I have heard things—"

"Lies," he said quickly. He smiled warmly. "It is so good to see you, Leonie. Is all well with you? You do not seem to have fared badly with the Black Wolf."

She answered stiffly, "He does not mistreat me, Alain. But I will not talk of him. Why have you come here?"

He appeared crestfallen. "Can't you guess? When I heard of your marriage, I grieved for you. I thought you would welcome my help."

"Thank you, Alain, but I do not need help," she said as courteously as she could.

"You arehappywith him?"

She looked away sadly. "I cannot say I am happy, but nothing can change my circumstance."

"You could come away with me, Leonie."

Leonie turned toward him again, startled. She had thought of fleeing, but until Rolfe was willing to let her go, he would be sure to track her down. What she needed was sanctuary, and Alain could hardly give her that.

"Where is it you plan to go, Alain?"

The question was simple curiosity, but he interpreted it to mean acceptance.

"You will not regret your decision, Leonie." He smiled, wrapping her in his arms. "I swear I will make you happy!"

"Alain!" She gasped, trying to push him away. "I am married."

He held her tightly. "A mistake that will soon be corrected."

Leonie grew very still. "What do you mean?"

"Your husband risks his life daily," Alain answered carefully. "Even now he wars with my vassals."

"Your father's vassals."

"The same thing," he said curtly. "Such a man, a man of war, will die—and soon."

Sudden understanding made her feel sick. Alain's first message had come not long after Rolfe's injury. Alain might have been there. He might have been the one who unleashed the arrow.

"Alain," she began carefully, "you—misunderstood—"