Page 67 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“The catalyst for what?”
“For obliterating every Saxon in the country.”
Harald’s stomach churned with horror. A light hand pressed on his shoulder, Beauvisage’s voice a comforting whisper.
“Forgive me for being the one to tell you, Harald,” he said, “but rejoice in the knowledge that his plans were thwarted. Letmedeal with this now—you know you can trust me. Rest, now, and I’ll dispose of this traitor’s body.” Ralph turned to Wulfstan. “Take the Lady Eloise to her chamber and watch over her.”
“Aye, Lord Beauvisage.” Wulfstan carried Harald’s unconscious wife into the main hall.
Was she a traitor also? Harald didn’t want to believe it, but she had pleaded for Jeffrey, wept for him, even, before running to her room to voice her love for another.
Jeffrey had to die—traitor or not, his wounds were so severe he was beyond saving and a swift death was the only gift Harald could bestow.
A wheezing noise made him look down. De Morigeaux’ face was covered in blood, still wet, glistening in the sunlight. A bubble formed in the blood at the corner of his mouth, then it burst and collapsed.
“H-Harald…. Harald of Wildstorm…”
Harald kneeled beside de Morigeaux.
The old man did not have long—perhaps his final words would be his confession.
“What would you say to me, Alain de Morigeaux?” Herald asked. “Would you confess your sins?”
“Listen to what I say.” With a final burst of effort, like a candle which flared before being extinguished forever, Alain opened his eyes and lifted his head.
“I gave you my daughter because I believed you to be a good man, Harald of Wildstorm. I still have faith in you. I would have you honor that faith, and grant a dying man’s wish.”
“A traitor has no right to ask anything of me.” Harald said.
“I have every right, for you have my daughter!”
“Did you know she came to me already sullied by another man?”
Alain’s eyes widened, then he nodded. “Aye—but you don’t deserve her if you cannot appreciate her capacity for love.”
“Such as the love for her brother,” Harald said, his voice bitter.
“Aye,” Alain replied. “She loved Henri—but she’ll love you more than any other if you’re a good husband.”
A bony hand grasped Harald’s arm, as if Alain summoned what remained of his strength for the final act.
“He means you harm.”
De Morigeaux closed his eyes, the breath rattling in his throat. His time approached.
“Who?” Harald tried to free his arm but de Morigeaux gripped it more tightly, as he expelled his final words.
“Do not trust him.”
“Who, damn you?” Harald shook the man but he did not react. The grip on his arm eased and the old man’s chest contracted with a deep sigh. Harald’s question would remain unanswered.
Alain de Morigeaux was dead.
* * *
Where is she now?
Eloise had disappeared. After regaining consciousness, she remained unresponsive, sitting stiffly on her bed with Wulfstan standing guard, she stared vacantly ahead as Harald told her that her father was dead, and that Beauvisage had buried him.
