Page 66 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
Eloise’s eyes stung with tears. “I had thought, after—before—that it would be different. But no—yet another child has been conceived in hate. My husband accuses me of infidelity, Agatha. It’s what I always feared—I am never to be believed, and will forever pay for my sin.”
“Nay, Lady Eloise, don’t speak so!” Agatha cried. “You have not sinned. You were sinned against, and suffered greatly for it. Your husband will understand. When you place his child in his arms—at that precious moment—even the most brutish of men will soften.”
A small cry of greeting stopped their conversation, and Eloise looked up to see Violette running toward her. She opened her arms, and drew the child into a loving embrace. She bent her head down, drinking in the aroma of lavender, and sobbed quietly as the child curled her little fingers and held onto her gown—the child she loved with all her being, yet she was unable to openly show a mother’s love.
My poor child, how I’ve failed you.
“Lady patroness, why are you so sad?”
“Forgive me sweet one,” Eloise said. “I’m merely sad because I’ve missed you. But I’m here now. Shall we explore the garden?”
The sun had fallen below the horizon when Eloise returned to Wildstorm. Sounds of activity filtered through the air, punctuated by sharper sounds—men shouting, followed by a clash of steel.
As she drew nearer, one familiar voice stood out—a voice she knew and loved.
Papa…
She broke into a run. The voices grew louder; yelling, shouting until a hoarse scream rang out, followed by silence.
“Papa!”
She entered the stableyard and came face to face with Ralph, Wulfstan standing beside him. Ralph inclined his head in her direction and smiled, his eyes glittering darkly.
“Eloise, my dear.”
Her gaze was drawn to what lay at his feet. Papa. A huge wound gaped in his chest from which blood pumped thickly, pooling beneath his still form.
The world slipped sideways and the ground shifted under her feet. Barely registering the footsteps behind her, she let oblivion claim her, the terrible truth penetrating her consciousness before it slipped from her grasp.
Ralph of Aquitaine had killed her father.
Chapter 16
Harald caught his wife before she fell to the ground. He handed her limp form to Wulfstan and rounded on his friend.
“Devil’s holy cock!” he cried. “What is this, Beauvisage? Why is Alain de Morigeaux dead at your feet?”
“Forgive me, my friend,” Ralph said, “I acted in self-defence. It pains me to say this, but he tried to kill me.”
“For what purpose?”
“Other than for knowing the truth about your wife? The whole family is tainted by unnatural and ungodly tendencies,” Ralph said. “I was one of the few people who knew what he was. Alain was still bitter about Henri’s death. I’ve long suspected the man behind the uprisings to be a Norman rather than a Saxon—one who has no wish for peace and would rid England of all Saxon blood.”
“You think de Morigeaux is behind the unrest?” Harald exclaimed. “That cannot be! If he wanted to rid England of Saxons why would he join with them?”
“My poor, trusting friend,” Ralph said. “By inciting riots among the Saxons, it would then be easy to secure William’s support in wiping them out.”
It couldn’t be true! Alain de Morigeaux had shown Harald nothing but courtesy.
“I cannot see it, Beauvisage. If he hated Saxons so much why give his daughter to me? You must be mistaken.”
Harald caught a flash of something in Ralph’s eyes—something akin to contempt—then is disappeared.
“Surely a man ofyourperception must see,” Ralph said. “By using his daughter as a spy, he could discover what you are about. I daresay he intended to use her to persuade you to riot against the Normans.”
“Surely he’d know I wouldn’t take counsel from a woman!” Harald said.
“Perhaps,” Ralph said, “but you must have noticed Eloise advising you on matters which do not concern her. If you could be persuaded to betray the king, his faith in the Saxon people would be destroyed. It would be the catalyst he needed.”
