If Love Dares Enough Read online

  “Come on, Devona, stop daydreaming! Let’s walk along the beach and collect shells,” Bemia called.

  Devona realized she had indeed been daydreaming, hoping, as she stared out to sea.

  If you’re coming Hugh de Montbryce, come soon.

  ***

  A month after his return from England, Hugh was convinced he would never have another good night’s sleep. Nightmares beset him whenever he laid his head on the bolster. Hastings predominated. It had ever been so since that fateful day. He awoke cold and clammy, convinced that the violence he’d experienced had aroused him sexually, and he became more determined to never subject a woman to the fury that might be unleashed if he bedded her.

  But since his return, another nightmare had begun to surface in the form of Renouf de Maubadon, who appeared with horns on his head and flames spewing from his mouth—the devil incarnate. In this dream, a triumphant Renouf dragged a screaming, naked Devona Melton by the hair into a cave. Hugh could never follow into the cave in the dream, but feared unspeakable things were going on there. He awoke feeling wretchedly powerless, often gasping for breath.

  The third dream was the one he’d experienced the night he’d first met Devona. She was beneath him, naked. The smell of marigold filled his senses. He was suckling her lovely breasts, her legs parted in invitation, her mons arched to his aroused manhood, smiling, reaching up to touch his face, saying—

  What’s she saying?

  But the dream always ended with Devona’s death before he could discern what she was saying. This was the dream he preferred, at least there was some good in it. He wanted the part where they were making sweet love to go on and on. When he awoke from this dream he’d invariably spilled on the bed linens.

  The maidservants must think I’m depraved!

  “What is it she’s trying to tell me in the dream?” he wondered aloud.

  Two days later the dream came again. This time the lovemaking was more intense, more vivid. The smile, the green eyes, the breasts, the impudent nipple, the parted legs, the arched hips—but now something more, his manhood sliding into her tight wetness, her screams of joy, her voice calling over and over, “Come! Come!”

  His ecstatic reply, “I am coming, for you, my love, I’m coming!” He woke with a shudder to soiled linens once more, feeling like his heart would burst in his chest. He shook his head, tried to calm his breathing and ran his hand through his tousled hair. He drew his legs up to his chest, clasped his arms around them and rested his head on his knees.

  She wanted me to come.

  “I came all right!” he muttered cynically, looking ruefully at the bed linens. Then a thousand conflicting thoughts ran through his head. “She wanted me to come, she wants me to come—she wants me to come—could it be she wants me to come? Am I supposed to go to her, rescue her? How can I do that? Her husband is a Norman. Still—he’s a brute, a monster. She’s all that stands between him and her family, but she won’t stand forever. And I desire her! But my desire could kill her. Renouf will kill her anyway.”

  As his racing heart calmed, he remembered Antoine had sent word he’d found a steward for their English properties. Hugh decided to ride to Belisle that very day to approach his brother with his problem. They’d always been close and trusted each other’s opinions. Dawn’s first rays were illuminating the horizon when he mounted Velox and was on his way to Antoine’s castle with a handful of bleary-eyed yawning men-at-arms.

  ***

  Antoine and Hugh had enjoyed a fine dinner at Belisle, a castle that had prospered well under Antoine’s able management.

  “Michel Cormant, the steward at Alensonne, has two sons who are more than capable of doing the job for us in England, and they’re keen to go. Michel has another son, Paul, who can take over for him at Alensonne when the time comes. Barat and Théobald Cormant can re-establish East Preston first and use it as their base of operations to oversee the other manors for us. What do you think of that plan?”

  “It’s a fine one,” Hugh replied, “If they’re competent as you say. We can provide them with a team of servants from both our castles to get them started. We’ll need masons, carpenters, cooks—”

  “—And rat-catchers!” Antoine interjected with a grimace. “I propose we meet at Montbryce with our teams in a fortnight and leave for England from there.”

  “Agreed. We can leave some at Montbryce if we find we’ve too many, or add more if we’re lacking. As for rat catchers, there’s none better than Isembart Jubert from Montbryce. By the by, Antoine, I intend to go back to Melton while we’re in England. Something just doesn’t sit right with me about that place.”

  Antoine pointed to his own eyes and laughed. “It’s the green eyes, brother. They do the trick every time.”

  Hugh reddened. “I suppose I don’t hide my feelings too well do I? But I must do something. Renouf will kill Lady Devona Melton if I do nothing. I don’t know how she’s survived five years with that brute and his henchman. The other concern I have is for her sisters. Their future looks dire if we do nothing.”

  “I understand your concern, Hugh, and I share it, but as I said before, we must tread carefully.”

  “I agree. I’ll leave for home on the morrow and meet you at Montbryce in a fortnight.”

  “I’ll send a bird with a message to our men on the coast to ready the longboat for a large group.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Melton family was enjoying a respite from Renouf’s reign of terror. He’d gone off to Normandie, something he’d done four times a year since his marriage to Devona. He’d never offered to take her with him, and his absences usually lasted about three sennights. He never spoke about whom he saw or what he did there, nor did they know what part of Normandie he visited. They didn’t care. They only wished he took Torod with him, but unfortunately the monster was left behind to oversee the manor in Renouf’s absence.

  They tried to stay out of Torod’s way. Devona was never afraid he would touch her—Renouf would kill him, but he was showing more and more interest in Bemia. Whenever possible they sought refuge on their beach, though that sanctuary was dependent on tides and weather. Tides in that area of the south coast could be deadly, high tide coming in quickly. The girls kept a weather eye out and climbed back up the steps as soon as the tide started to come in.

  They were emerging from the top of the winding steps one sunny afternoon when Devona espied Hugh de Montbryce in the distance, riding toward the manor. There was no mistaking the broad shoulders, the long dark hair, the ease with which he rode, horse and rider moving as one.

  He has returned!

  She wanted to run to meet him, throw her arms around his neck and kiss him a thousand times for returning. A wave of heat rolled through her body and she thought her legs might give way. But men were men, and Normans were Normans. She would need to be wary. Perhaps his return had naught to do with her.

  “What is it Devona? Are you ill?” Aediva asked.

  “No, my sweet, I think I came up the steps too fast. That’s all.”

  Torod had also espied Hugh’s party approaching so she quickened her pace to arrive at the same time. Boden beat her to it and almost bowled Hugh over with his welcome. She wondered if Hugh guessed how badly she wished it was her hands on his chest, her tongue licking his face.

  Just as Torod was about to say something to Hugh, she spoke. “Get down, Boden! Welcome, Lord Montbryce. Boden is happy to see you.”

  Don’t be too effusive. It will alert Torod.

  She stumbled on. “I’m afraid you’ve missed Renouf, he’s in Normandie.” Hugh’s nod told her he had understood the other message she’d tried to give with her eyes.

  He handed the reins of his stallion to the scowling Torod. “Lady De Maubadon, thank you for your welcome.” Hugh kissed her hand and she couldn’t control the blush that ensued. “Too bad I’ve missed your husband, but perhaps I can talk with Torod here regarding matters that need to be discussed about the manor?”

 
; “Yes, Torod is capable of filling that role,” she gushed, smiling at the toad. “I hope you’ll dine with us this evening?”

  “It would be a pleasure. Perhaps, Torod, you can show my men where they can bed down?”

  “Hmph!” Torod replied, striding off, Velox in tow.

  Devona’s sisters had joined them. “Bemia! Aediva! How good to see both of you.”

  “Lord Hugh,” Bemia nodded.

  Aediva smiled warily.

  Devona wanted desperately to take Hugh’s hand and lead him into the manor, but Torod might look back and see.

  ***

  As soon as Hugh had seen Devona hastening towards him he’d become aware of two things. Her more relaxed manner led him to believe Renouf wasn’t at home. His body’s reaction told him he was in love, or at least in lust with her. That presented enormous problems, given his belief in his inability to experience passion without violence ensuing, not to mention she was another man’s wife.

  When she flashed her green eyes with the hidden message that she was more than glad to see him, his heart thudded, and he resolved in that moment to do everything in his power to free her from her life of cruel degradation with Renouf de Maubadon, no matter the consequences.

  Later, as they supped in the Great Hall, he tried to convey his feelings, without alerting Torod. He and Devona were seated at the head table, Torod below them with a group of boisterous men. Again, Hugh’s men sat apart, evidently not wishing to associate with the mercenaries.

  Devona didn’t look up from her food. “If we speak to each other, I can’t look at you because Torod will report everything that happens here to Renouf.”

  Hugh watched Torod. “I came because I sensed you wished it, Lady Devona. I hope it doesn’t offend you if I use your given name?”

  He saw her fighting to quell the tears welling in her eyes, trying to concentrate on her food.

  “I prayed for you to come, Lord Hugh,” she whispered.

  He smiled inwardly at the memory of his body’s initial misunderstanding of her plea. “I heard your plea, Devona. I dreamt of you. I still dream of you,” he whispered back.

  She struggled to maintain her composure. “But the hopelessness of our situation is overwhelming,” she murmured as she sipped her broth. “Renouf or Torod watch us all the time. We’re only by ourselves when we’re on the beach below the cliffs.”

  Hugh nodded thoughtfully. “A beach? We must contrive to meet there on the morrow, so I can see if it’s a means of escape.”

  A brief glimmer of surprise lit up her eyes. “But even if it is, my grandfather and my mother could never make it down the steps to the beach. I can’t abandon them to Renouf’s wrath. We can only go there if the tide is out.”

  “We’ll find a way, Devona. I give you my word.” He raised his goblet in a mock toast to Torod. “Excellent wine, Torod. Compliments to Sir Renouf.”

  Torod raised his goblet, staring directly at Hugh, who could see the looks of disgust on the faces of his own men.

  Devona scowled. “It’s excellent wine, at the expense of Melton Manor. My husband strips us of our wealth to satisfy his appetites,” she whispered.

  Hugh thought for a while about what she had told him. “Tell me, where has he gone in Normandie? Has he been there before, since you were married?”

  “He goes often, four times a year. I don’t know where. He doesn’t tell me. He’s usually gone at least three sennights.”

  “Interesting—Excellent chicken, Torod. Compliments to Sir Renouf’s cook. Not many kitchens in England can produce such fare.”

  Again Torod acknowledged the compliment with a silent lifting of his goblet.

  Through gritted teeth, Hugh asked, “Is he believing any of this, Devona?”

  “I don’t know, Lord Hugh,” she replied, keeping her eyes downcast. “I won’t know until Renouf returns.”

  The fear in her voice sent a cold chill up his spine. He needed to act quickly. “When will the morrow’s tide be favourable?”

  Devona’s shoulders tensed. “An hour before sunset, but no one must see us go down together.”

  Hugh wanted desperately to touch her, to reassure her. “I’ll leave Melton earlier in the day. Antoine and I are at East Preston. I’ll find another way to meet you on your beach one hour before sunset.”

  She gave a barely perceptible nod. “I’ll be there,” she whispered. “Unless it proves too dangerous.”

  In a loud voice, Hugh declared, “Bonsoir, Lady De Maubadon.” He bowed as he stood to take his leave. “I thank you and le capitaine Torod for your hospitality. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

  “Goodnight, Lord Montbryce.”

  Hugh made to leave but then turned back to Torod. “Oh, Torod, we must spend some time before I leave going over the accounts for the manor. I’m sure all is in order. I’ll explain to you about the new steward my brother and I have appointed to oversee our English manors when we’re in Normandie. Meet me in the Hall an hour after dawn, with the accounts. Now I must attend to Velox.”

  “Hmph,” Torod replied.

  Once in the stable, Hugh sought out Gerwint and received a cool reception.

  “You don’t believe it, old man, but I’ve come to help you and your family. I may be a Norman, but I can’t abide seeing a brute abuse a woman. That isn’t what I fought for at Hastings—to bring terror to a foreign people.”

  He could see the old Saxon warrior had aged visibly in the short time since his first visit. Gerwint slumped onto a bale of hay. “It’s hopeless. Renouf and Torod are ever vigilant, and Renouf knows he has the law of matrimony on his side. I’ve tried to think of all manner of escape plans, but they’re too dangerous, and none likely to succeed.”

  Hugh sat down beside the Saxon. “Devona mentioned the beach. I plan to meet her there to see if it’s a means of escape.”

  Gerwint looked at Hugh with obvious surprise. “Well, I’ve considered the beach, but the only way is—”

  He stopped abruptly and looked around furtively, then directly into Hugh’s eyes. “I’ve entrusted no one with this knowledge, not even my own kin. There’s a way down to the beach from the manor house used many, many years ago, when our ancestors were involved in—well—raiding and the like. It was the reason our forebears chose this cliff. The passageway was a bolt-hole in dangerous times. It mostly follows a natural fissure, unused for two generations. I myself was only in it once, as a boy. I don’t know if I should trust a Norman with the knowledge.”

  Hugh put his hand gently on the old man’s shoulder. “You have no choice, Sir Gerwint. I’m your only hope.”

  The Saxon looked at him oddly and was silent for several minutes before he spoke again. “The passageway begins behind the larder. Devona knows how to get into the false wall there, but she doesn’t know how to enter the passageway, nor of its existence. It leads down to a large cave under the cliff. But if I had got them all down there, I had no means of getting them off the beach.”

  Hugh stood. “If this is a feasible plan, I’ll devise a means of escape by sea. You must give Devona the instructions for entering the passageway.”

  Gerwint came to his feet. “Aye. The hardest thing will be getting her mother down there. Poor wretch. What a beautiful woman she was before—” He seemed unable to continue.

  Hugh struggled with his anger at how the coming of the Normans, his own people, had devastated this family. “I intend to ride to East Preston on the morrow. I’ll procure a small boat and meet Devona on the beach an hour before sunset. I’ll locate the cave and we’ll plan from there. I won’t return to Melton myself, it would arouse suspicion, but you can trust a message from our steward, Barat Cormant.”

  Gerwint was pensive. “But, if we escape, where will we go?”

  “As far away from Renouf de Maubadon as possible,” Hugh replied.

  Gerwint nodded. “It will be hard to leave Melton. I love it so.”

  Tears welled in the old man’s eyes. “I would feel the same if I was force
d to abandon Montbryce Castle.”

  “Aye. Well—my thanks to you, Lord Hugh de Montbryce. You’ve renewed my hope. You’re the first Norman to address me as Sir Gerwint.”

  The two men clasped hands.

  ***

  “These tallies seem correct, Torod, but, in truth, I’m not a man of figures myself,” Hugh lied. It was evident Torod couldn’t read. “I’ll send my steward, Barat Cormant, here to Melton to peruse your accounts.”

  Torod scowled and rubbed his fingers back and forth over his mouth. “I can assure you all is in order,” he replied with hostility.

  “I’m sure, but it’s important Cormant become familiar with the revenues and expenses of the manor if he’s to administer it for me. I’m a greedy man, Torod. I want to make sure I’m getting my due. As a fellow Norman, you understand that surely? You and Renouf.”

  “Hmph!”

  “Par example, these entries here for imported wines, they seem—excessive. Perhaps I have no sense of the cost of such things, and of course a Norman who fought at Hastings should be entitled to enjoy only the finest wines, but Cormant—now, that’s a different thing.”

  Torod shifted his weight and scratched the stubble on his pockmarked chin. “Sir Renouf will explain everything to your satisfaction.”

  Gripping the gloves he held in his hand, Hugh resisted the urge to throttle the man. “Oui, I want to tell King William how grateful I am he has endowed me with manor houses that return a handsome revenue. When will Renouf be back?”

  The taut features of Torod’s ugly face tightened further, betraying his unease. “We expect him in a sennight.”

  Hugh feigned surprise. “Mmm. I shall probably have returned to Normandie by then. However, Cormant is nearby at East Preston. He can easily come over to Melton any time he wishes. You’ll be sure to let Renouf know of our arrangements? Does he go to visit family in Normandie? Perhaps he’s close to my castle at Domfort? I could visit him.”

  “Hmph! I’m—I’m not sure where his family is.”