A Whisper Of Rosemary (Medieval Herb Garden #3)

A Whisper Of Rosemary (Medieval Herb Garden #3) Page 53

“But…I thought you’d known me better than that…and, Maris, how could I have stolen you for someone else when I wanted you for myself? Did you not know that I wanted you? That was why I had to leave Langumont so suddenly—I could not bear to see you given to another.”

She looked at him with wondering eyes. “I did not know, truly. At the time, I could only think you had wooed me to your side so as to make your abduction of me easier. I thought ’twas you who wrapped me in that cloth and carried me to Breakston.”

“Oh, nay, Maris. On the night we first met, I wanted you…and that desire grew, and so did the despair that I could never have you. I couldn’t believe my good fortune when Henry betrothed us…and then he showed me the missive from your father.

“In that missive, not only did he repudiate your betrothal with Victor,” Dirick said, unable to hold back a grin, “but he also requested that, if the king agreed, I should be your husband and Lord of Langumont.”

She gaped at him. “It was my papa’s wish that we should wed?”

“Aye, my lady, and ’twas also the wish of my father that one of his sons should wed with you as well.”

“Aye, I certainly remember that incident. I met your brother Bernard, and although he was very kind…” Maris seemed to be considering her thoughts. “…I do not think we would have suited.”

“Thank fortune you did not,” Dirick said vehemently. Then he smiled. “He and Joanna are like moon-faces about each other all of the time. Completely besotted.”

“Aye,” she replied, with just as much spirit. “But of course, neither of us will ever look at the other in such a foolish way.”

Dirick couldn’t hold back a rueful laugh. “Mayhap that is true for you, my beloved, but I fear ’tis too late for me. The queen has already seen my moon-face, and it is because of her meddling, I think, that we are in this bed together.”

Her cheeks pinkened and she looked up at him almost bashfully. Then her eyes glinted with determination. “Our fathers have exacted a sort of revenge upon Michael d’Arcy, then.”

“Aye, they have. Yet, I still must see this through to its end,” he told her firmly.

“Dirick, you must take care…please,” she looked up at him so earnestly and sweetly, with tears pooling in her eyes, that he felt his heart jerk at the emotion there.

“Aye, my love, I will take care. After all,” he pulled her fingers to his lips, “I have everything to live for. I have everything I could ever want. It is a miracle to me. And I have no intention of letting it go.”

EPILOGUE

Two days later

Langumont Keep

“Come, my love.” Michael grasped Allegra’s hand and drew her up the tall, curving stairwell.

She followed him willingly—as she had ever done, and always would, until the end of time.

The tower was cool and damp. It was a part of the keep that she rarely accessed, and which normally sent chills down her spine…but today, it didn’t matter. Today, she was with Michael.

Her skirt trailed in the dust as they clambered up more steps and more steps, holding hands, silent.

When they reached the top, he opened the door and allowed her to step out onto the balcony of the tower ahead of him. She felt his strong, sturdy body behind her, solid and fearless in its warmth. The wind was stronger at this height, and the view of the blue sea sparkling to the west was expansive. The sound of the surf was lost in the breeze, lending a hollow, windy sound and giving the impression that they were separated from the rest of the world.

They were.

She looked over the lands of Langumont, seeing the village, the bailey of the keep below, noticing the thickness of the forest to the east and the varying shades of green meadow to the north and south.

She’d been happy here.

Though her heart had always been with Michael, she’d been happy. Merle had been a good husband to her. She had betrayed him in so many ways, and now he was dead…by the hand of the man she loved.

Michael had told her of his part in Merle’s death…yet, she still loved him. ’Twas her great sin, her great weakness that she would follow him willingly, anywhere, until the end of time.

“Are you frightened?” he asked suddenly, his voice rumbling in her ear.

“When I am with you—nay, never,” she told him, turning to face him. They could not be together here, she knew. This was their only chance.

“Come, Allegra, let us go.”

He took her hands in his, facing her fully, and looking down at her with those blue eyes lit with an odd, unsettling light.

She moved willingly with him to the edge of the tower’s railing, stepping up on it in tandem with him. “I love you,” she told him.

“I love you.”

And then it was over.