Through all Jeanne’s misery, there had been Oliver. He had never planned to love the young wife of his enemy, but Oliver’s wife of a childless marriage had died over a year earlier and he was lonely, as was Jeanne, and they were drawn to each other. At first Jeanne had been defiant, standing up for a husband who had said very few kind words to her and never held her except during the sexual act. But in a very short time Oliver’s quiet kindness made her soften. While outside the walls war raged and men died, inside Jeanne lay in Oliver’s arms.
When Oliver knew Jeanne was carrying his child, he became furiously jealous. His hatred of the Peregrines increased because the woman he loved, the mother of his child, was someone else’s wife. Jeanne begged him to allow her to go to Rogan and ask for an annulment, but Oliver became enraged at the idea. He was terrified that Jeanne would return to the Peregrines—or even that, upon seeing Jeanne and hearing the news, Rogan would murder her.
But, defying Oliver and endangering her life, she went to Rogan. It had been an ordeal getting out of a castle that was under siege. On a black, moonless night, her ladies had helped her down the wall, a well-bribed man had rowed her across the inner moat, then she’d run, crouched, to the outer moat, where another boat awaited her. It had cost her much gold to bribe the guards on the parapets to look the other way, but she’d managed it.
Wearing a roughly woven cloak over her gown, she’d easily walked through Rogan’s camp without one person recognizing her. If she had not been sure before, after seeing no recognition on the faces of people she’d lived with for months, she was sure. She walked past Severn and young Zared, and they didn’t so much as glance at her. When she faced Rogan, there was no gladness at seeing her again, no joy that at last he could stop the siege. She asked him to walk away into the woods with her, and he had. As quickly as possible, she told him she had grown to love Oliver and now carried his child.
For a moment she thought he was going to kill her. Instead, he had taken her arm and told her she was a Peregrine and was staying with him, that he’d never release her to a Howard. She had forgotten what the Peregrines were like by half. At the thought of never seeing Oliver again and having to spend the rest of her life in filthy Moray Castle, she’d begun to cry. She didn’t remember what she’d said, but she believed she remembered saying she’d kill herself if she had to live with Rogan.
Whatever she’d said, he’d released her arm and pushed her hard against a tree. “Go,” he’d said. “Get out of my sight.”
Jeanne had started running and hadn’t stopped until she was safe inside a peasant’s hut. That day the Peregrines had stopped the siege, and a month later Jeanne heard that Rogan had petitioned the king for an annulment.
Jeanne was able to keep Oliver from learning of her visit to Rogan and so saved herself many jealous accusations. But in the years since, over their heads hung the fact that Jeanne had once been married to a Peregrine. For years Oliver looked at their oldest son askance, and once Jeanne saw him inspecting the boy’s hair. “There is no red in it,” she said, and moved past him. Oliver had been taught to hate the Peregrines from childhood, but now he hated them more. It seemed to him that the Peregrines had first claim to everything he owned: his castle and his wife.
So now, so many years later, Oliver had tried to get back at the Peregrines by yet again taking a wife of theirs. But this time Rogan wasn’t going to fight. He wasn’t going to risk losing another brother for a woman he’d never wanted in the first place.
Jeanne looked at Liana. “I do not know what happens now,” she said honestly.
“Nor do I,” Liana answered bleakly.
Chapter
Eighteen
Liana finished the last stitch on the embroidered dragon on her frame and snipped the thread. She had completed the entire pillow cover in just a few weeks. She’d forced herself to keep her hands busy because if her hands were busy, she thought less.
For five long weeks she had been a prisoner of the Howards. After she was well enough to move about, she had been given a pleasant, sunny guest room and all the sewing supplies she needed. Jeanne had shared two gowns with her.
Other than Jeanne, Liana saw no one but the servants who came to clean, and they were forbidden to speak to her. The first few days she had paced the room until her legs had grown tired, but then she began to sew, using the intricate stitching to take her mind off the news Jeanne brought her each evening.
The Howards kept close watch on the Peregrines, and they reported to Oliver. Rogan was seen every day. He trained with his men, rode with his brother, chased the peasant girls like a satyr.
Oliver renewed his threats to Rogan, saying Liana was in love with Oliver’s brother. Rogan’s reply had been to inquire if he was invited to the wedding.
Liana jabbed the needle into the tapestry and hit her thumb. Quick tears came to her eyes. Filthy beast, she thought. Daily she went over in her mind all the many terrible things Rogan had done to her. If she ever got away from the Howards, she hoped never to see a Peregrine again. She hoped all of them, including that boy-girl Zared, sank in their own mire and drowned.
At the beginning of the sixth week, Jeanne came to her with a frown on her face.
“What is it?” Liana asked.
“I don’t know. Oliver is angry, more angry than I’ve ever seen him. He wants to force Rogan into a fight.” Jeanne sat down heavily. “I can find out nothing, but I think Oliver may have issued a personal challenge to Rogan, a trial by combat.”
“That will settle the feud once and for all. The winner will own this place.”
Jeanne put her face in her hands. “You can afford to say that. Rogan is years younger than Oliver, and larger and stronger. Your husband will win and mine will die.”
In the last weeks Jeanne had become very familiar to Liana, familiar almost to the point of friendship. Liana put a hand on her shoulder. “I know how you must feel. I once believed I loved my husband.”
To the right was a clatter.
“What was that?” Jeanne asked, her head coming up.
“The man cleaning the toilet.”
“I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“I forget them myself. They come and go so quietly,” Liana said. “At home…I mean, at my husband’s castle, the servants were inept, lazy, and had no idea how to clean anything.”