Dreams of Lilacs

Chapter 27



Isabelle woke, then looked at the canopy of the bed she was lying in. She lay there for several minutes, trying to decide why it was she felt as if she had been to Hell and back. Then she remembered the truth of it. She had been to Hell and back.

In that moment, she realized that there was in life a great abyss between knowing something and actually doing the same. Take embarking on an adventure, for instance. ’Twas one thing to stand in the shadows and plan a grand journey full of peril and the unknown; it was another thing entirely to actually be off on the same, trying to keep one’s feet aboard a heaving ship, trying to keep one’s heart protected whilst in the care of a terrible rogue.

Shoving a knife into the back of that rogue’s brother whilst he’d been about the nefarious business of attempting to kill the man she loved.

She would have heaved again, but she was past that somehow. All she could do was let the tears trickle down her temples and wonder if she would ever stop shaking. She closed her eyes and concentrated on simply breathing for quite a while until she thought she could perhaps look about her and see where she was without making any untoward noises. She looked to her left to find none other than her mother sitting there in a chair, watching her.

She crawled out of bed with a cry and threw herself into her mother’s arms. Gwen laughed a little, then reached to her right and pulled a blanket over and around Isabelle.

“Poor lamb,” she said, sounding pained. “You’ve had quite a time of it, I understand.”

“Oh, Mama, you’ve no idea.”

“Then tell me, love. Tell me everything.”

Isabelle wasn’t sure where to begin, so she began at the end and worked her way backward. She finished her tale with the last thing she remembered at home, which was standing at Artane’s gates, having a hurried conversation with Arthur of Harwych. She wasn’t entirely sure she also didn’t remember riding away from Artane, looking at it over her shoulder, and feeling as though she would never see it again.

“Oh, Isabelle,” Gwen said with a sigh, “what in the world drove you to such a course?”

Isabelle looked at her mother. “Did they not tell you?”

Gwen shook her head. “I’ve heard many things, but not that.”

Well, there was surely no reason now not to be honest. “I received a missive,” she said slowly, “one that said Grandmother and Grandfather would be slain if I didn’t appear in France as quickly as possible. I feared to say anything to anyone.”

Gwen rubbed her back soothingly. “I can’t say that I blame you, love, or that I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your place.” She paused, then shivered. “The risk you took was great, however.”

“I was fortunate that Gervase found me,” Isabelle agreed.

“So you were.” Gwen nodded behind her. “I believe he’s managed the feat again, only this time with a companion. Robin, darling, how are you?”

“Acting as chaperon to this one there,” Robin said with a snort. “Seems he already has a bodyguard in that wee thing you’re holding, so I’m only here to make sure he behaves himself.”

Isabelle looked over her shoulder to find Robin standing at the foot of her bed with Gervase standing behind him. She glared at her brother, because it felt like a normal and reasonable thing to do. Robin only laughed and leaned over to give her a loud kiss on the cheek.

“That was good work you did, Iz,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t suppose I need to give you any lessons in knife play now, but don’t say I’m not willing to.”

She supposed there were several things she could say, but the thought of any of them having anything to do with what she’d just been through was more than she could stomach. She shot her brother a weak glare, but he only laughed and stepped aside. Gervase went down on his good knee and inclined his head to her mother.

“My lady Artane,” he said politely.

“My lord Monsaert,” Gwen said with a smile. “Isabelle has been telling me a fascinating tale about her time spent tidying up your kitchens.”

Gervase looked far more uncomfortable than he should have. Isabelle found it in her to smile.

“Mama, don’t tease him. He was distracted.”

“And determined to spend the rest of his life making up for the error,” Gervase said solemnly. “If your husband will consider it, my lady.”

Robin slapped Gervase affectionately on the back of the head. “He’s outside sharpening his sword, my lad. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me that if you call me lad one more time, I’ll stick you for it.”

Robin bounced on the bed and chortled. “Ah, a brawl. I was robbed of my sport at Louis’s hall, you know, so I must look for a replacement as soon as possible.”

Isabelle looked at her mother in despair but Gwen only smiled.

“Pull up a stool, Your Grace,” Gwen said, “and sit with us for a bit.”

Isabelle was happy to sit wrapped in her mother’s arms with Gervase’s hand smoothing over her hair. She listened to her mother and her love speak of simple things and was content to leave them to it. They kept at it for longer than she’d dared hope before the conversation wound back around to things Isabelle was far less comfortable with.

“You know, Lord Gervase,” Gwen said softly, “you could talk to Robin about the trials of a woman saving the life of the man she loves.”

Isabelle watched Gervase look at Robin in surprise.

“In truth?” he asked.

Robin lifted his eyebrows briefly. “’Tis entirely possible that my lady might have known a bit more than I did about a lad who wished me ill—I’m not admitting anything, of course—and that I might have been looking in the wrong direction—again, not that I’m admitting anything but perfect awareness—”

“Robin?” Isabelle said with a sigh.

“Aye, sister?”

Isabelle thought of all the things she could say to her brother, but realized very quickly that Robin knew exactly how Gervase felt and Anne might be exactly who she needed to talk to. She looked at her brother.

“Say on,” she whispered.

Robin shrugged. “I won’t say that Anne didn’t have terrors at night for quite some time. I would make light of it, but the truth is, it was my privilege to be there to hold her as she grieved.” He smiled faintly. “I suppose my slobbering gratitude to her for my sorry life wasn’t displeasing to her.” He looked at Gervase. “Slobber, my lad. Often.”

“I will,” Gervase said seriously. He looked at Isabelle briefly, then rose. “I will leave you in peace, my lady.”


Isabelle watched him collect Robin and go, then shivered in spite of herself. If she hadn’t killed Guy . . .

She crawled off her mother’s lap. Obviously she’d spent too much time already that day entertaining idle thoughts. She looked at her mother. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

Gwen smiled. “To the lists, I imagine.”

Isabelle felt her mouth fall open. “But Guy hurt Gervase’s leg so badly yesterday.”

“I don’t think your father cares. Actually, I imagine Gervase doesn’t care, either. I understand he was prevented from an early start in the lists only by a desire to assure himself that you were well.”

“Who else is there?” Isabelle demanded.

“Robin, of course,” Gwen said. “Miles, though he doesn’t seem all that interested in the sport. He’s too busy talking to Etienne about things I don’t think I want him considering. John and Montgomery are waiting their turn, as you might expect. Montgomery has expressed a desire to meet you in the lists as well, which you might find surprising. Or not.”

Isabelle looked at her mother with a fair bit of reluctance. “I understand I clunked him over the head with a shutter.” She paused. “In a roundabout way.”

Gwen rose. “I believe he’s interested in discussing that with you in detail.”

Isabelle threw her arms around her mother and hugged her. “I’m so happy.”

“That your brother wants to meet you in the field or that your would-be lover is going to be confined to his bed for a fortnight?”

“Nay, Mama,” she said, pulling back and looking at her mother seriously. “That Gervase knows my name.”

Gwen laughed a little, then kissed her on both cheeks. “He certainly does, love. Best wear something warm if you’re intending to spend the morning watching the battle. I’ll see if someone can’t be prevailed upon to bring you something to eat later.”

Isabelle nodded, then took her mother’s advice on clothing. Still, she shivered as she left the warmth of her chamber and hurried out to the field where the men of her family were gathered. She had the feeling that had less to do with the weather than she might have wished.

She paused in the cloister and hid behind a pillar where she could see where danger lay before she walked out directly into it. Gervase was in the middle of the field, such as it was, facing her father. He was on his feet, which she supposed was a good sign. The line of souls waiting to have their turn was, she supposed with less enthusiasm, not a good sign. She left the safety of her hiding place and sidled up to Miles, because that seemed a less dangerous proposition than hopping up onto the wall to sit next to Montgomery.

“How’s he doing?” she whispered.

“I believe there’s been some pointed conversation about his care of you,” Miles said with a smile. “That’s gone about as you might expect.”

Isabelle didn’t have to ask if Robin had had his turn yet. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, looking as fresh as if he’d just rolled out of bed. She eased forward and looked around Miles. John and Montgomery were there, leaning against the wall and watching with stony expressions on their faces. Isabelle took a deep breath, then walked around Miles to stand in front of her younger brothers. She looked first at John.

“Good to see you, brother,” she said with a smile.

John pulled her into his arms, embraced her so tightly she squeaked, then set her away from him. He nodded briskly to his right where Montgomery was standing, scowling fiercely. Isabelle put her hands on his crossed arms.

“Montgomery.”

He looked at her. His eyes were very red, as if he had tears to shed but couldn’t. She put her arms around him and held on to him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He shook his head sharply. “You did what was needful.”

“And when did you come to that conclusion?”

“An hour or two after I stopped wanting to find you and kill you.”

She pulled back and smiled up at him. “And how long did that take you?”

He pursed his lips and unbent far enough to embrace her. “Several days after we learned you weren’t dead, which means I decided an hour ago that I would let you live.”

John snorted. “Tell the entire truth, Montgomery, you coward. You were fully prepared to do damage to her until you saw what’s out there facing Father.”

Isabelle moved to sit atop the wall between her youngest brothers. “He’s doing well, isn’t he?”

And with that, they were off. Isabelle settled herself more comfortably atop the flat rock and listened to her younger brothers and Miles discuss Gervase just as they’d discussed innumerable swordsmen over the course of her life. She found the discussion widened to include the opinion of Joscelin, who revealed himself to be a reasonably fair soul.

She wasn’t sure she could be as objective. All she saw was a man who had been through hell over the past few days yet was still willing to do what was necessary to fight . . .

For her.

Her father wasn’t showing Gervase any mercy. She hadn’t expected him to, not truly. She supposed the one thing she could say for what was going on in front of her was that at least her father was talking to Gervase, not snarling at him.

The morning wore on. Isabelle supposed she might have suppressed a yawn or two. She eventually leaned against Montgomery’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

She realized she had dozed only when she felt an elbow in her side and almost fell off her perch as a result. Strong hands caught her before she went sprawling. She looked up to find Gervase standing there.

His hands were shaking.

She met his eyes. “How are you?”

“Still on my feet.”

“Is the effort worth it?” she asked.

He smiled, then leaned forward and very carefully kissed her on the cheek. “The prize is worth it, Isabelle. The prize is worth countless mornings such as this.”

“Come out from behind your lady’s skirts, Monsaert,” Robin bellowed. “Let’s be about the true work of the day!”

Gervase looked at her, sighed lightly, then smiled. “I’ll return.”

She watched him go, then found herself enveloped in her father’s embrace. He pulled away from her, took her face in his hands, and looked at her with tears in his eyes.

“Isabelle,” he said with a sigh.

“Papa, I had to come.”

“So I see now, but I warn you that if you ever do anything so foolish again, I will take my blade to you.”

Miles leaned over and cleared his throat. “I believe, Papa, that you’ll need to go through her husband to get to her.”

Rhys scowled. “Aye, I suppose there is truth enough in that.” He looked at Isabelle. “Don’t give him gray hairs, daughter.”

She smiled. “You like him, then?”

“I gave him permission to court you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Did you?”

“I think he means to wed you, then court you, but I find that I can no longer control these new and incomprehensible ideas youth entertain these days. I suppose you may have him if you wish.”

“I’m not finished with him,” Montgomery said loudly. “And then I intend to see to her. I think perhaps speaking of a wedding is slightly premature, Father.”

Isabelle smiled at her father, then rested her head on his shoulder whilst she watched the man she loved fight with her oldest brother and laugh as he did so.