A Flame Run Wild Read online

  Liliane received no outside guests and was very seldom in Alexandre's company upon his recovery. He slept in the small turret chamber beneath hers and avoided her except at evening meals. She did not miss him, for his reference to her spiritual health had galled her to the bone. She was convinced that his prim virtue would wither any woman's desire. By the month's end, she was more than ready to venture through the wall again for her appointed visit to the message tree. This time she took no chances on finding a horse, but instead had a page take the black out to the smithy just before dusk when the smithy would have no time to attend it.

  After an hour ride, she reached the lightning-scarred tree that Jacques had pointed out near the Signe boundary. A narrow, ivory cylinder wrapped in oiled cloth had been placed high in a burnt-out hole. Standing up in her stirrups, she plucked it out and trotted into the moonlight to scan it. Jacques's request for information on Alexandre's fortifications was exactly what she had expected. If Jacques knew how poorly the castle was equipped to deal with a determined attack, he would have long ago attempted one. The Signe party had been watched closely during the wedding festivities; she was sure that Alexandre had let none of them see the damaged wall.

  Liliane quickly reached for the writing materials in the pouch at her waist and wrote several lines on parchment. In her note she expressed her admiration at the number of armed castellans, praised the ample water and food supply, and marveled at the sturdy walls. Bedrock expanded under the castle and new weapons appeared in the armory. She described Alexandre and Philip as being not only friends, but virtual brothers. She warned Jacques that her ability to leave the castle would shortly end, and he must soon make a decision about Alexandre. On the last point, she sincerely hoped Jacques would be discouraged.

  If he went ahead with his plans, she only hoped to catch him in a move that would prove his guilt in Diego's murder. She was certain Jacques would involve her in any attempt to kill Alexandre, thereby insuring his total control over her. If Jacques proposed a plan, she could not only warn Alexandre, with any luck she'd also have written evidence to present to Philip. But she doubted that Jacques would provide her a weapon by committing his plans to writing.

  After returning the message cylinder containing her reply to the tree, Liliane headed back to the castle. The sound of the sea's murmur, however, proved too strong a temptation. Several hours remained until dawn, and she might not be out of the castle alone again for some time. She would certainly have the beach to herself at this time of the night.

  Before long, Liliane spotted the stretch of beach she had found the day Alexandre had interrupted her ride and ordered net back to the castle. This part of the beach was unbroken by rock. The moon was high, the surf low, sighing sweetly on the smooth, shining pebbles. Liliane gave her horse free rein and for an hour she managed to forget that she was a virtual prisoner, far from her beloved Malaga coast Finally she dismounted. Part of her hair had slipped from her cotehardi, and after looping the horse's reins about her wrist, she let him tag behind her at the surfs edge as she walked along, absently tucking in, her hair.

  Without warning, the clatter of falling rocks startled Liliane as a rider surged down the pine-topped outcropping above the beach just ahead of her. Within seconds, Liliane had swung onto her horse, wheeled him around and headed inland. Her pursuer was aboard a good destrier, and her pulse pounded in her temples as she used the looped rein to drive her stallion up the loose shale bank.

  She dared not be caught, whether the rider was a marauding thief or a castellan. In the first case, she had only her knife and might well face rape or worse; and if the rider was a Brueil castellan, she would be in a great deal of trouble with Alexandre. She cracked the rein against the horse's flank.

  Alexandre was almost sure his quarry was Liliane. He had seen the quick gleam of her long hair from the top of the outcropping. How the hell had she gotten out of the castle without passing the guards? Angry and determined to find out, he gave chase, but his sorrel could not match the black.

  Alexandre arrived at the castle to discover that the black destrier and its blond rider were nowhere to be seen. He hailed the guards. "Has anyone passed through the gates since dusk?"

  The reply was negative. Liliane must have another method. Alexandre circled the castle, but he saw nothing save black gaps too high for her to reach. She might have mounted the rubble against the inside wall when leaving the castle, but then she would have had to climb down the sheer outer wall and swim the moat. Wasting no more time, he ordered the drawbridge lowered, galloped into the courtyard and slid off the sorrel. Grabbing a torch, he raced up the turret stairs and pounded upon Liliane's door with both fists. "Open the door, Madame!"

  A sleepy mutter answered him, and after a long moment the door opened. Disheveled and drowsy, Liliane looked adorable with her night shift slipped off one smooth ivory shoulder, her hair in soft disarray. "You knocked, milord?"

  Alexandre seized her elbow and steered her back into the room. Without a word, he passed the torch low over the floor. Then he saw what he had expected: wet footprints. To his amazement, they were exactly the same size as the ones at the byre and river. Fury and confusion crossed his face as he turned to stare at her. Having seen the same thing as he had, Liliane stared back, no longer looking sleepy but cool and wary. Her hands were behind her back and Alexandre guessed they were locked around a dagger. "Well," he demanded hoarsely, "what explanation have you, Madame, for disobeying my orders and riding abroad at night?"

  "I was bored," she returned flatly.

  "More than bored, I would say! How did you get out?"

  "I applied to the priest, as you suggested. He suggested I pray for a miracle."

  Alexandre let out a snort of exasperation. "I shall turn Mohammedan if the Lord grants miracles to Signes! This is not the first time you have gone out at night. You were the one who dragged me out of the river!"

  The flicker of surprise that crossed her face betrayed her, then she shrugged. "Had you drowned, I and my family would have been blamed. You would have been in no condition to deny that you had been clapped on the head."

  Her blunt, apparent indifference made his blood run cold. "You are in a dangerous position, milady. For saving my life, I owe you a fair hearing, but do not tread too heavily upon my indulgence."

  She lifted her chin defiantly. "If I defended my disobedience with wifely concern for your safety, would you believe me?"

  Now Alexandre was startled. He would have given his horse to be certain that she cared for him, but everything he knew of her decreed that she was a liar. He was silent for a long moment, then he said slowly, "Your solicitude presents an entrancing idea, but I'd sooner believe a camel would rather kiss man spit."

  Her face became even more guarded. "Well then?"

  "Well then, tonight I was hale and hearty upon riding out. Did you assume I might land in another river?"

  "Why not, when my uncle is apparently so enterprising?"

  "He is not so stupid as to come for me while the honeymoon linens are scarcely rumpled. A far duller mentor than Philip might consider suspect your becoming my heiress so quickly." He thrust the torch near her face. "Your demise, my good wife, would cause considerably less clamor. Now, what were you doing out tonight?"

  Alexandre knew she considered, him a peevish boy, but he saw his false threat had quickly altered that impression—now she judged him as dangerous.

  "I told you I was bored. I am your wife, not your prisoner. Indeed, I am not even your wife, yet you spend my dowry and insult me when you have no proof that I have done more than seek respite from an intolerable existence."

  Alexandre remained implacable, particularly as a black thought had just occurred to him. Most likely she had been on some Signe errand, but what if she had gone looking for Jean? "Did that respite include meeting a lover?" he snapped.

  Liliane went white. "My crimes mount apace! Why not accuse me of conjuring spells over the sea to wash Castle de Brueil into its
depths? Would that I had a lover, at the least a man who does not perpetually look at me as if I am a demon in female form!"

  Alexandre let out a short sound of exasperation. Liliane would roast before she told him more than she wanted. For the time being he must stew in his own juices of jealousy and suspicion, but sooner or later she would make another slip. He was sure that Liliane had carried out some kind of rendezvous. His surest tactic was to provoke her into sneaking out again, so he could follow her. Her purpose in leaving the castle might be innocent, but if she was indeed bent on treason or infidelity, it would mean the end of them; a realization that sickened him. "I owe you my life, Liliane," he finally whispered. "For that I give you tonight. If you cross me again after tomorrow's dawn, you will sorely regret it."

  She did not doubt him. His expression looked fierce in the flickering torchlight. ''Then do not imprison me," she said evenly. "I cannot live like this."

  "Yet you are alive—better that than drawing an arrow in the back from an edgy castellan. "Suddenly feeling weak as he realized the risks she had been running on her nocturnal forays, Alexandre left her before she could detect his vulnerability.

  * * *

  The next morning Alexandre examined the castle base beneath the breaks in the wall. He found Liliane's tracks on both sides, and some holes and scratches in the lowest gap. As his fief bordered near the Alps, Alexandre was no stranger to mountaineering. Liliane had obviously used some sort of rappelling tool. Had he not once seen her expertly spear a fish, he would not have believed a woman to be so audacious and capable. Searching her chest in the master chamber, he found nothing and returned the contents so that they appeared undisturbed.

  After giving the derelict wall guard a ferocious dressing down and a six-month bout of armor polishing at dawn with the squires, Alexandre summoned Charles. "I need someone I can trust to keep his eyes open and mouth shut on the north wall night watch for a time. Will you take on the task?"

  Charles's brown eyes narrowed. "Of course. Do you expect trouble?"

  "Indirectly." From the tower window, Alexandre pointed out the gaps. "I want all the holes filled except for the two lowest ones at right. If anyone tries to get in or out of them, don't try to stop them, but come posthaste to me."

  "Done."

  The snare was arranged; now for the bait.

  Four days later, Alexandre had a scullery boy slip a message to Liliane while she was working at his mother's old loom. The boy nervously twisted his grimy hands. "The gentleman said you would give me a silver penny, Madame la Comtesse."

  "What gentleman?"

  "A dark, rich gentleman about so high"—he indicated—"with shoulders so."

  Louis, Liliane decided. Except that Louis would not send a message this way. Jacques claimed that he had no agents in the castle, which might well be a lie, but he had also insisted that the tree would be their sole vehicle of exchange unless he heard differently from her. She handed back the message unread and gave the boy his penny. "Take this, boy, but bring me no more messages from strange gentlemen. Give them instead to my husband, the count, with my compliments." Whether Alexandre or Jacques had sent the note, she would not be caught is the middle of their maneuvers.

  Alexandre, having half expected her to refuse the message, rewrote it, then invited her to a private dinner in their room. For the occasion, Liliane wore her finest garments and maintained a steely composure even when he served her the opened Louis' message upon her plate. "A gentleman wishes an assignation," he observed laconically.

  "Indeed?" Liliane daintily removed the message from her plate. "No doubt you will discourage the reckless fellow?"

  "I leave that to you, milady." Alexandre lounged back in his chair with feigned carelessness.

  Liliane took up her goblet. "Surely my refusal to accept his petition should be discouragement enough for this mysterious suitor, milord."

  "Were I susceptible to your charms, milady, it would not discourage me." Alexandre smiled humorlessly. "I bid you read the letter, milady, and answer as you see fit.".

  With a patient shake of her head, Liliane did as Alexandre ordered, only to feel as if the parchment had exploded under her fingers. It was not a "Louis" note but a message from Jean! In French was scrawled, "England looked cold, after all, so I shall wait where it is warm. Come fishing."

  Alexandre watched Liliane's fingers tremble. "Afraid you will catch a shark?"

  I live with one, Liliane thought angrily. Why should I be afraid of another? She tossed the note back on the plate. "This note makes absolutely no sense and it is unsigned. It might have been sent by anyone."

  "Anyone who can read and write that is. At Castle de Brueil, that would include Charles, who is far from fond of you; my clerk, who loathes women in general; and Father Anselm, who loathes only deceit—and spies and faithless women would seem to fell into that category."

  Outside in the turret, Jacques's spy placed his ear closer to the bedchamber door. An unknown element had come into the game! He had altered his own report to Jacques so that it matched Liliane's. Had either of them told Jacques the truth about Alexandre's defenses, he would shortly have had to seek new employment. Having but lately come to his treacherous trade, the spy was not yet expert, but he was steadily becoming more adept. To successfully doublecross a master of intrigue as seasoned as Jacques de Signe took solid skill which he was diligently trying to acquire. He was delighted by Liliane's arrival, for she could be used to keep Jacques dangling; that she was betraying Jacques as well was of no consequence. He could easily ensure that Liliane appeared trustworthy to Jacques for as long as it was to his advantage, then he'd trip her up and raise his price.

  If he discredited her now, she would be useless to him. The spy listened carefully. Alexandre seemed to think that Liliane had a lover, and he was now baiting her. Just as Alexandre started to speak again, the spy heard Liliane rise from her chair.

  "If you fancy duplicity at every turn, milord, you will fret yourself into an early grave long before any enemy can put you there!" With that, the spy heard her go to the window, swiftly followed by Alexandre. A rousing quarrel ensued, the words flying so quickly that they were hard to make out. The spy sighed. At this rate, Liliane would not long be married to Alexandre.

  Over the next few weeks, the hostility between Alexandre and Liliane hung like a thundercloud over the household. The couple never fought before the servants, but many a battle raged behind closed doors. Jacques's spy was a trifle perplexed. Alexandre seemed convinced that Liliane had a lover, but so far, he himself had seen no evidence of her dalliance. Was Alexandre sharper than he'd thought, staging a jealous show to pave the way for formally accusing Liliane of infidelity to the Church and Crown— and ridding himself of her?

  Chapter 5

  ~

  The Irresistible Bait

  Castle de Brueil

  June 1189

  As the golden balmy days of early summer passed, Liliane became increasingly miserable, and it seemed that Alexandre was bent on making her so. Not that he continued to bait her. After the first few days, he withdrew into himself with a brooding tension that promised ill when he finally exploded. All that she might have accomplished in her marriage was now lost. She was off balance, her hopes for a happy marriage dashed. Nothing remained for her but deadly duty.

  Liliane was especially wretched now that she knew Jean had returned. Although her entire being longed for him, she dared not go to him. Not only was she too aware that to be discovered together was a terrible danger, but her strict sense of honor prohibited her willful pursuit of Mm. Outweighing her moral and practical reservations was her fear that she might weaken in her determination to win justice for Diego. Yet day by day she endured Alexandre's bitter silence, his wordless accusation and reproach, and she wondered with growing despair how she would ever make matters right. With Philip's influence and support, Alexandre might very well divorce her, whether or not he could prove just cause. Women had few legal rights—even les
s against a royal favorite! Without her dowry, which Alexandre might well retain, Liliane was powerless.

  Liliane anxiously awaited the monthly word from Jacques that might give her the means to ruin him. Then she would either prove her loyalty to Alexandre or, if he continued in his hostile treatment of her, she could complete her mission of gaining justice for Diego, then seek a divorce and return to Spain. One feint hope illumined that prospect, but to think that Jean might accompany her into poverty was foolish. Besides, in Alexandre's present frame of mind, he might well have answered Jean's note with word of her death . . . and it would be better for Jean if he had! At that thought, Liliane's heart twisted like a broken harp string as she bent over the tapestry she had begun for the barren great hall.

  While she worked, another terrible possibility taunted her. What if Alexandre had forced the messenger boy to reveal the man who had sent him? What if he had devised some way to lead Jean into a trap? If so, Jean might already have been discovered! What revenge would Alexandre take for her infidelity with his own brother? A sick fear haunted her. Had Jean been found in the lodge? Had Alexandre killed him? She should have immediately warned Jean to fly from danger, yet she would have most certainly been caught, and Jean would have been more at risk than ever.

  Liliane knew that she was being watched, and not just by Alexandre's two aunts, who plied their needles at her side. To visit and inspect the bride, the women had paused on their annual jaunt to Aries. Their dislike and general mistrust of the Signes were barely masked by chill politeness. The way their needles stabbed the long expanse of the tapestry made Liliane think they wished they were stabbing her. It was obvious that her rich wardrobe and striking beauty had excited their open envy and disdain. Liliane was unaware that Alexandre had forbidden them to criticize her to him and his household. She knew only that she was miserable and that Jean's life was probably in grave danger.