Chapter 21
Why hadn’t he stayed with Jess at the mummers’ camp?
Marcus cursed again, knowing he was backed into a corner. Time had run out. Within an hour or two, Rand would arrive with Peter and Agatha in tow.
And Ailith de Harte would live. He was trapped. For life.
“God’s Blood and Bones!” he cried out, frustration seeping into every pore.
He sat alone in the records room at Harte Castle, ledgers scattered haphazardly across the desk in front of him. For the past week, some of his time had been spent here while the rest had been out on horseback checking on the estate or working with his soldiers in the training yard. Very little of it had been with Jess.
Why hadn’t he left her with the Vawdrys? It would only have been for a handful of days.
Marcus was angry with himself for heeding Rand’s urgent words and traveling to Hartefield in the first place. If he’d stayed with the troupe and finished out his last week in the Vawdrys’ employ before they disbanded, he would have arrived to the news that his father was gone. A dead Charles de Harte wouldn’t have been able to tell Marcus of his betrayal—much less share that his son was betrothed to Lady Ailith. Marcus would have assumed his role as the new Baron of Harteley and wed Jess.
Ailith, too, would certainly have been dead by today without Jess nursing her back to health. Though the baroness was still as weak as a newborn, Jess had beamed with pride when she told Marcus that his stepmother would make a full recovery. He could still hear Jess’ words, telling him how relieved she was to have saved Lady Ailith’s life since Marcus had already undergone so much loss recently.
The biggest loss would now be Jess.
If only he’d left her with the mummers and had Rand escort her when he returned to Hartefield today. Marcus could have spent the last waning days comforting his dying new wife and then buried her with no one other than Father Pious and two witnesses the wiser that the marriage had occurred. Instead, he’d been selfish and wanted the woman he loved nearby. Jess, being the good soul she was, had toiled day and night, concocting new brews for Ailith to drink until her high fever subsided and her cough was brought under control. She also created scented, soothing mixtures to bathe Ailith with to help ease the terrible itching from the rash that covered her entire body.
Ailith would live, thanks to Jess. The woman who meant everything to him had unwittingly chained him to a stranger and dashed any hopes of them ever joining together as man and wife.
Now, Marcus would have to tell Jess the truth—and watch the light go out of her eyes.
He rose, knowing what lay ahead was more difficult than any battle he’d ever fought. Dread coursed through him. Marcus didn’t know how he would be able to survive without Jess in his life.
And what if his babe grew within her?
Reluctantly, he mounted the stairs, knowing he would find her sitting in the doorway of Ailith’s bedchamber. Jess had spent countless hours there watching over her patient and many others keeping Livia entertained. He ventured down the corridor and saw the empty chair at the chamber’s entrance. He wondered where Jess might be and decided to ask Ailith.
As Marcus came to the doorway, he glanced inside and saw Jess sitting next to Ailith’s bed. Anger filled him. He had cautioned her not to enter the sickroom. Jess probably had decided Ailith was no longer contagious at this point but she shouldn’t have made that choice without speaking to him.
He marched to the bed and heard Ailith say, “Nay, Jess, I know my first husband is dead. Marcus is my new husband.”
Jess jumped to her feet, her body stiff as a board. She wheeled around and saw him. Those beautiful amethyst eyes were wide in horror as her jaw hung open.
“Jess, let me explain.”
She pushed past him and fled the room. Marcus turned to follow.
From the bed, Ailith rasped, “What’s wrong?”
He ignored his wife and ran after the love of his life.
Marcus caught up with her and grabbed her elbow. Jess spun and faced him, her eyes now dark and filled with tears that began to spill down her cheeks. He latched on to her other elbow, holding her in place, not knowing how to begin. She stared at him in silence.
“Jess, I was coming to tell you.”
Her mouth trembled. “Now. You were coming to tell me now. That you are wed. To Lady Ailith.”
“Aye,” he said softly, dropping his head in shame.
“You knew you were wed to another and yet you dallied with me.”
He raised his head as she squeezed her eyes shut, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“All those times we talked. Laughed. Flirted. The times you kissed me. When you told me you cared for me.” Her head fell. “When I gave you my virginity.”
Her voice was so low he strained to hear those last words. As he did, it was like a knife to his heart.
“Jess. Look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Please.” His voice broke.
Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes streamed tears of anger and shame and sorrow.
“What I feel for you is real. Every moment spent in your company was an honest one. I didn’t know I was betrothed to Ailith. Not even when I returned from two years of combat.” He swallowed. “I arrived and found her in my father’s bed. I called her his whore, not knowing that my mother had died. He told me Mother was gone. I realized, seeing the two little girls, just how fast he had remarried. I left Hartefield before I killed him.”
Marcus paused and gathered his thoughts. “When I returned a week ago and found him dying, Father told me Ailith had been my intended bride. A surprise for me when I returned from battle. He’d served as my proxy and signed the betrothal contracts in my name. When Mother passed suddenly, his lust overcame his good sense. He told Ailith I’d been killed in combat and then pretended to wed her. Ailith has no idea they were never truly married. Livia and Mary are Father’s bastards.”
Jess’ eyes grew wide.
“Father’s dying request—no, demand—was for me to marry Ailith and take those girls under my protection. Ailith’s fever raged out of control. Everyone told me she would be dead within days, if not hours. So I did the noble thing and wed her. She was already my wife by law. And I pitied her, for everything she had gone through. ’Tis why I brought you here, to help ease her suffering before she passed.”
Dully, Jess said, “And I saved her instead.”
“You did. Every day, I hated myself for I wished her to die. Every day, you worked another miracle and helped Ailith to grow stronger. Now, she will live.”
“My actions have torn us apart,” Jess said softly. Her tears flowed freely now. “I have become my mother. She loved a man betrothed to another.” She paused. “I must leave. At once. Nay, Peter is on his way. I will wait for him and Agatha.”
Marcus gripped her tightly. “I forbid it. You cannot leave me, Jess. I will wither and die without your touch.”
Shock crossed her face. “You are married, Marcus. Married! I cannot stay at Hartefield another day.” Her lips trembled. “I cannot watch you with your wife. See the children you two share play at your feet. Have my heart shattered into a thousand pieces every minute of the day. Nay, I will leave as soon as Peter comes.”
“Jess,” he pleaded. “Don’t go.” His own tears blinded him. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t know why I couldn’t say the words before but know they are true.”
She recoiled as if scalded. “You cannot say them now,” she hissed. “You can never say them to me again.” Jess stiffened. “Release me, Marcus.”
Reluctantly, he loosened his fingers and let his hands drop to his sides.
Jess gave him a wistful smile. “I suppose I should find comfort in knowing you truly loved me, but for your sake and Lady Ailith’s, you must now let me go. You need to lead your life here—with your wife.”
She turned and hurried down the corridor.
His heart rent in two as he watched each step take her further away from him.
Marcus had to say it once more. “I love you, Jess.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she reached her bedchamber’s door. “I know.”
*
Jessimond fell across the bed and wept. Sobs racked her entire body. Nausea overtook her and she stumbled to a basin and vomited. Too weak to walk, she leaned against the wall and slid down it until she hit the ground.
Marcus was married. To Lady Ailith. Bitterness filled Jessimond. She had prayed for hours to the Virgin Mary to intervene and save the noblewoman’s life, especially after Ailith lost little Mary. She’d tried everything she knew to break the raging fever and calm the deep cough. She’d sat watching, instructing Bea to bathe Ailith’s limbs over and over. And all the while, Jessimond worked to heal the wife of the man who held her heart and soul.
She dragged her feet closer and dropped her head against her knees. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she cried until no more tears came. Spent, she pushed herself to her feet and bathed her face in water before gathering her few possessions. The minute Peter arrived, they would leave. She didn’t want to see or speak to Marcus or Ailith or Herleva or Livia or anyone she’d come to know during her stay at Hartefield. More than anything, she needed her family now. Thankfully, Ancel and Margery were not far away. They would have to cross Hartefield and then go the length of Sir Simeon de Grey’s property, but after leaving Glenmore, they would be on Bexley lands.
Jessimond realized they would be walking so that their journey would take longer. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered anymore. She’d left Kinwick an innocent girl and would return a woman, somewhat wiser for having been foolish enough to fall in love with the wrong man. Her head told her that her heart would mend one day but, at this point, Jessimond thought she would be an old woman and still burn for Marcus de Harte’s touch.
A knock sounded at the door. She threw back her shoulders and held her head high as she answered. Herleva stood there.
“I’m to tell you that Peter and Agatha are here,” the servant said, looking at Jessimond with questioning eyes but wisely saying no more.
“Thank you.”
She picked up the satchel and her herb case and followed Herleva downstairs. Peter and Agatha stood close together, both their brows knitted together in confusion. Rand came into view, his face betraying his knowledge of the impossible situation.
Suddenly, Livia toddled in from the great hall as Jessimond reached the bottom of the stairs. The girl threw her arms around Jessimond’s legs and buried her head against Jessimond’s knee.
Peter reached and took her things so that she could lift the child in her arms.
“You leave?” Livia asked, her mouth turning down in a frown.
“I am. Your mother is all better now. I told you she would be.” Jessimond swallowed, blinking back tears.
Livia smiled. “I love you, Jess.”
“I love you, too.”
She kissed Livia’s brow and set her on the ground. The girl ran off, giggling.
Rand stepped forward. Quietly, he said, “Marcus knows you do not wish to see him. He’s asked that I lead a guard to escort you safely back to Kinwick.”
Jessimond shook her head. “I want to see no one from Hartefield.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “I need a clean break, Rand.”
“He won’t be happy,” the knight said.
“Neither will I,” she replied. “Just let us leave quietly.”
“You don’t even have horses, Jess. Can I at least provide you with a better horse and wagon than the one I bought from Elias? It barely got Peter and Agatha here. I’m afraid it will fall apart on the road to Kinwick.”
“Nay. We will walk home if need be.”
Rand enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly against him. Jessimond looked up and said, “Take care of him for me.”
“I will.”
With that promise, Rand released her. Jessimond nodded to Peter and he and Agatha accompanied her from the keep. A dilapidated wagon awaited them. She saw her lute in the back and climbed up into the wagon’s bed. She claimed the lute, locking her arms possessively around it as Peter assisted Agatha. The girl came and sat next to Jessimond. She slipped her hand through Jessimond’s arm and held it firmly.
Herleva ran out, a basket in her hand. She gave it to Peter and then hurried back inside the keep, her eyes avoiding Jessimond.
Peter set her things in the back and then climbed into the driver’s seat. They passed through the gates of Hartefield and continued down the road. When they reached the end of it, Peter looked over his shoulder for instructions.
“Bexley. We go to Bexley,” Jessimond confirmed.