‘Hugh, what are you doing?’ She thumped her fist on his chest, scandalised. Hugh liked baiting her, but this was ridiculous.

A large hand reached for her, it whispered across her cheek. Her hood was pushed back. They were kneeling facing each other. On her bed. Because of her lack of height Hugh had to stoop his head, and it brought his lips very close to hers.

Despite the poor light, everything snapped into sharp focus. Hugh’s eyes were very dark, his expression arrested.

‘Hugh?’

She could hear their breathing; she could hear the mutter of voices in the hall and the soft hiss of rain in the mud outside. Time seemed to slow.

His hand slid round the back of her neck and carefully, eyes never leaving hers, he brought her closer.

‘Hugh, you really should not have climbed in here.’ Aude’s thoughts raced. She was an unmarried lady and her reputation here in England was unsullied. It simply was not done for a lady to have a man in her bed—even though he was her brother’s friend and it was perfectly innocent.

Hugh smiled.

Author Note

Crèvecoeur Château in Normandy still exists, although in the eleventh century it would have looked very different. There would have been wooden buildings and a motte and bailey—a defensive mound and a yard within a palisade.

A little before the year this novel begins, the real Lord of Crèvecoeur was banished; he spent many years in exile. This is not his story. The characters in these pages are entirely fictitious, although the themes of disgrace and injustice proved rich sources of inspiration.

On marriage rites: in the early Middle Ages many marriages were solemnised by a church blessing—but a church blessing, although desirable, was not yet mandatory. In the eleventh century a marriage simply had to be declared before witnesses to be considered binding.

During the course of the eleventh and twelfth centuries the Church began to regularise the varying traditions. The need for clear inheritance laws helped speed this process along, and over time more and more weddings took place under the auspices of the Church.

To my brother David,with particular thanks for all the photos,And to Dad for so many happy memoriesof the Yorkshire Dales.

Her Banished Lord
Carol Townend

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Carol Townend has been making up stories since she was a child. Whenever she comes across a tumbledown building, be it castle or cottage, she can’t help conjuring up the lives of the people who once lived there. Her Yorkshire forebears were friendly with the Brontë sisters. Perhaps their influence lingers…

Carol’s love of ancient and medieval history took her to London University, where she read History, and her first novel (published by Mills & Boon®) won the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Award. Currently she lives near Kew Gardens, with her husband and daughter. Visit her website at www.caroltownend.co.uk

Recent novels by the same author:

THE NOVICE BRIDE

AN HONOURABLE ROGUE

HIS CAPTIVE LADY

RUNAWAY LADY, CONQUERING LORD

MILLS & BOON

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Praise for Carol Townend

THE NOVICE BRIDE

‘THE NOVICE BRIDE is sweet, tantalising, frustrating, seductively all-consuming, deliciously provocative…I can’t go on enough about this story’s virtues. Read this book.

You’ll fall in love a hundred times over.’

—Romance Junkies

‘From the very first words, this story snatches the reader from present day, willingly pulling hearts and minds back to the time of the Norman conquest. Culture clash, merciless invaders, innocence lost and freedom captured—all wonderfully highlighted in this mesmerising novel.’

—Romance Reader at Heart

AN HONOURABLE ROGUE

‘Ms Townend’s impeccable attention to detail and lush, vivid images bring this time period to life.’

—Romance Reader at Heart

‘Anyone who wants to read a very satisfying and heart-warming historical romance will not go wrong with AN HONOURABLE ROGUE by Carol Townend.’

—Cataromance

HIS CAPTIVE LADY

‘Ms Townend does an excellent job of drawing readers into the world of the Saxons and Normans with clever dialogue and descriptions of settings and emotions. I give this book a very high recommendation!’

—Romance Junkies

Chapter One

The river port of Jumièges, Normandy

Lady Aude de Crèvecoeur eyed her brother in some dismay. It was early morning and she and Edouard, Count of Corbeil, had left their lodgings at the Abbey and were walking along the quays. Judging by the set of her brother’s face, Aude feared that he had already discovered what she had done. Why else would he be steering her to that particular jetty?

Edouard’s squire, Raoul, was following a discreet distance behind them. Aude had the lowering feeling that Raoul might be under orders to catch her should she make a run for it.

Oh, Lord. She had been planning to confess the whole today in any case, but perhaps she should have been honest with Edouard from the first. A light breeze was playing with her veil, teasing a strand of copper-coloured hair from its plait. Behind them the Matins bells rang out from the Abbey towers.

Her mind raced. What best to do?

Edouard loathed it when people kept things from him. And that of course, was exactly what Aude had done. She had been too cowardly to tell him that she was not ready to fall in with his plans for her.

Under an immaculate summer sky, the port was coming to life. Bales of English fleeces were being offloaded from one of the barges. They skirted round them. She had long been dreading this moment, but Edouard must be made to realise that she was serious about leaving Normandy. She had booked passage to Honfleur, and from there—England!

Did he know? She would not rush to confession until she was more certain of his mood. They walked on, towards the very barge on which she had booked her passage. Lord. Edouard must know. It was obvious something was bothering him.

The port was relatively peaceful. The water was at a very low ebb—at the mouth of the Seine, near Honfleur, the tide must be out. On the opposite bank a small ferry was making ready to cast off and cross the shrunken river. Behind the ferry, white cliffs reared heavenwards, blinding in the morning sun. It had always struck Aude as odd that here in the port the bank was so low, while on the other side, there were those tall white cliffs.

Face set, looking neither to right nor left, Edouard came to a halt next to the river barge that was bound for Honfleur, the very one on which Aude had reserved her place. She braced herself. ‘Edouard, I have a confession to make…’

But Edouard’s attention had been caught by a sudden burst of activity on the barge so he hadn’t heard her. Guilt tightened Aude’s stomach. Edouard would be furious, he had plans for her, plans which did not include her touring her recently acquired estate in England.

Lifting her green skirts clear of a coil of ropes, Aude kept her eyes fixed on her brother’s face. They had passed the night in comfortable beds in the Abbey lodge; she had seen to it that they had eaten a filling breakfast at one of the inns. She had hoped to put him in a good mood. Edouard must be made to understand. To Aude that English estate represented a hard-won freedom: freedom from duty, freedom from convention, freedom to be herself. Acquisition of that English estate had given her the independence she had dreamed of, and she was not going to give that up, for anyone.

‘Edouard?’

‘Mmm?’

Her brother was fascinated with the barge. A barechested sailor was tossing orders in all directions, brusquely indicating that some of the cargo should be shifted from one side of the deck to the other. Shocked, Aude gave the sailor a sidelong glance, wondering why the ship’s master permitted this man to work half-naked; it simply was not done.

By his looks, the man had Viking ancestry. He had thick brown hair which had been burnished blond by the summer sun and he was most beautifully formed. Those shoulders, those back muscles—the Duke’s champion would kill for a body like that…

A sharp quiver that Aude was unable to identify ran through her. The half-naked sailor seemed vaguely familiar, but how could that be? She knew no common sailors. Aude frowned, but with his back to her, the man’s face was hidden.

With a wrench she tore her gaze from the beautifully formed sailor and tucked her arm more firmly into her brother’s.

‘Edouard?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I am trying to tell you something important. It would help if I had your full attention.’

Edouard reached across to tuck a coppery tendril of hair back beneath her veil.

‘A confession, you say?’ His eyes gleamed, and though that tightness had not left his face, Aude could see no anger in his expression, not for her. Some of the tension left her. ‘Hadn’t you better wait until our appointment with the Abbot this afternoon? He will be only too pleased to hear your confession, I am sure.’

Aude swallowed. Her throat remained dry, as though she were nervous, which was ridiculous. Edouard might be Count of Corbeil, but he was also her brother. Would he insist on imposing his will over hers? This was Normandy in the eleventh century, and noblewomen were expected to obey the male head of the family.

‘Edouard, this appointment with the Abbot—you would not force me into a convent?’

‘Force you? Lord, no. But, Aude, we have discussed this many times. You have had over a year to mourn your Martin. It is time you got on with life.’

She removed her hand from his arm. In that perfect blue sky the swifts were screaming and Aude felt like screaming too. ‘I am getting on with life! I have been helping you! Heaven knows, you needed someone to run the household. Crèvecoeur was little better than a midden when I returned.’ Realising that an all-out argument would do her no favours, she moderated her tone and replaced her fingers on Edouard’s arm. ‘You said you appreciated my assistance.’

‘I did. I do.’ Edouard’s gaze rested for a moment on the dazzling white cliffs on the other side of the Seine. He sighed. ‘Naturally, I appreciate your hard work, but as I said, it is over a year since Martin’s death—’

‘Sometimes I think the shock of it will be always with me,’ she said, slowly. ‘One moment Martin was leaving the Great Hall all laughter and smiles, and the next he was brought back on a hurdle. A hurdle.’ Aude fixed her brother with her eyes; Edouard had heard this many times before, but she could not stop herself. ‘His horse threw him, how could that have killed him? Men are thrown by horses every day and they survive.’

‘Martin had internal injuries, Aude. There was nothing you could do to save him.’

‘I did my best, but I shall always wonder. Did I miss something?’

‘You missed nothing. Aude, it is not healthy to keep looking backwards. Martin would want you to have a future.’

‘Would he?’

Edouard smiled. ‘Indeed he would. And it is time you gave it some thought. I cannot keep you hidden away at Crèvecoeur for ever; you are no longer young.’

‘I am eighteen,’ Aude murmured. ‘That does not feel so old to me.’

‘You know what I mean, you are not a child. You are old to be…unsettled.’

‘You want to lock me away in a convent…’

‘At the least you should be wed.’ Edouard’s expression was hard. ‘Aude, we need to make an alliance, a good one. I beg you to remember that our family’s position is not secure.’

‘You are referring to Grandfather’s disgrace? But I thought…after Beaumont…’ Aude’s brows snapped together. ‘Surely Duke William cannot still be holding what happened in Grandfather’s time against us? You fought for him in England five years ago, and last year you.. .we both gave his favourite Richard of Beaumont our full support. Why, I even agreed to marry the man!’ Aude’s voice was in danger of breaking and for a moment her brother’s face was lost in a mist of tears. Blinking rapidly, she fought for control. This was not a good start and she had not even begun her confession.

Absently, Edouard patted her hand. ‘I know and I appreciate the sacrifices you were prepared to make.’

Aude cleared her throat. ‘I should hope so. Poor Martin had barely been laid to rest, but I knew my duty. I agreed to marry Richard de Beaumont, and so I would have done, if he had held me to it.’

‘For that I am grateful.’

‘Nevertheless, despite my reluctance, you will use me to forge another alliance.’

‘It would certainly help.’ For an instant Edouard’s eyes strayed to the barge behind her. The barge on which Aude had booked passage to Honfleur. Passage for herself, her maid and a small personal escort. Edouard’s lips tightened. That Viking sailor was probably still flexing those impossibly fine muscles. Aude could certainly hear him, throwing commands at the other sailors. She was not going to look at him.

A fleeting expression of anxiety crossed Edouard’s face. It was quickly masked to be sure for Edouard had never been one for worrying her, but she knew him. Something was bothering him. She did not think it concerned her. Edouard had been scowling at that sailor…the one she was not going to look at.

‘Something has happened, I can see something is wrong.’ Aude squeezed her brother’s arm. ‘Don’t tell me our family’s loyalty has been called into question?’

Edouard shifted his attention back to her and shook his head. ‘Not precisely.’ His voice was clear in the warming summer air. ‘Aude, I won’t beat about the bush. One of my friends has been denounced as a traitor.’

Her breath caught. ‘A friend? Who?’

‘Aude, hush, for pity’s sake!’

‘What did he do, this friend?’

‘So far as I can judge the accusations against him are completely false, but I can say no more. I am telling you this, Aude, because it is important for you to realise that over the coming months we shall have to be particularly careful with whom we are seen to associate.’

It felt for an instant as though the sun had gone in. But there it was, still gleaming on the trickle of water in the riverbed. It was low tide, but the Seine was especially low this morning—it had been a dry spring and an even drier summer.

‘Mind your back, fool!’ The voice of the distracting sailor—she was certain it was he—cut into her thoughts. Aude turned in time to watch that barechested form take up a small packing case and heft it on to a wide shoulder. He ran lightly down the gangplank and on to the jetty.

Aude’s jaw dropped. Her heart missed its beat. She could see his face properly and she knew him!

This was no sailor as she had assumed, but she had been right about his ancestry; Viking blood did indeed flow in this man’s veins. She was looking at Hugh Duclair, Count de Freyncourt. No wonder that naked torso had caught her attention. Hugh had always been so…so vibrant. Whenever Aude was with him she could see no one but him. It was a little unsettling to learn that Hugh had the power to fascinate even when being mistaken for a deck-hand.

She clutched Edouard’s arm. ‘It’s Hugh!’

Aude had not seen Hugh for over a year. A friend of her brother’s, she had met him several times when she had been a child. Notwithstanding the cloud that had hung over her family, Hugh had always been kind to her. True, he had enjoyed teasing her more than she found comfortable, but when he hadn’t been baiting her, she had liked him. Too much. Indeed, as a child, she had woven many a childish dream about him. But goodness, he had changed since those days. He was so tall, so large, and with that gilded brown hair shining in the sun…

Edouard’s lips tightened. ‘Aude, you are not to acknowledge him.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Aude stared. ‘You cannot mean it, Hugh is a particular friend.’

‘Not any more,’ Edouard said, in a clear, cold tone that Aude was afraid must carry to where Hugh was directing operations a few yards away. No wonder the ship’s master had not commented on Hugh’s lack of attire, he would not dare. A ship’s master—criticise the Count de Freyncourt!

‘What do you mean?’

‘Haven’t you heard? Hugh has been banished from the Duchy.’

‘Hugh is the one who was banished? No!’

‘He has been accused of conspiring against Duke William.’

Aude drew her head back. Her skin was icy, as though someone had doused her with cold water. ‘That cannot be true, Hugh would never do such a thing, never.’

‘It was Bishop Osmund of St Aubin himself who gave testimony against him. He swore a sacred oath, over relics.’

‘I do not care who testified against him, I am going to speak to him.’ Aude picked up her skirts.

Edouard caught her wrist. ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Edouard, release me!’

‘No!’ Her brother lowered his voice. ‘Mon Dieu, we are still shadowed by the accusations made against our family in Grandfather’s time.’

Aude clenched her teeth. ‘But Grandfather always maintained his innocence! The charges against him—’

‘Serious charges,’ Edouard murmured, leaning closer, ‘of plotting to overthrow the Duke.’

‘They were never proven! Grandfather was falsely charged, and you know it.’ Aude lifted her chin. ‘Just as Hugh is being falsely charged.’

‘In a sense it does not matter whether we believe Hugh to be guilty or not, we cannot afford to recognise or be associated with him. You are not to speak to him. Ever.’

‘Hugh is our friend!’

‘Not any more,’ Edouard muttered under his breath, before raising his voice loudly enough to be heard on the ship. ‘But should Hugh Duclair be reinstated that would, of course, be a different matter. Then we might acknowledge him.’

‘Why you…you…’ Words failed her. Her eyes were drawn back to that strong, lithe torso. Why had it only just dawned on her that watching the play of a man’s muscles could be so stimulating? She was flushing all over, hot where moments ago she had been cold. This was not right, she could not bear it. Not Hugh, merciful Lord, not Hugh.

It was only when Aude felt her brother’s hand catch hers that she realised she had stepped towards Hugh. Blindly, instinctively, wanting…what? To give comfort? To take it? Her brother’s revelations had thoroughly upset her.

‘Aude, let the man continue with his preparations,’ Edouard’s voice came at her, seemingly from afar. ‘He is cutting it fine as it is. He only has a day to get out of the Duchy.’

‘What will happen if he is delayed?’

‘His life will be forfeit.’

Aude’s heart beat hard as Hugh came down the gangplank with another packing case. How galling to have to leave Normandy under such a cloud, how ghastly to have lifelong friends ignore you…

Her frown deepened. That packing case on Hugh’s shoulder, surely it was one of hers? Biting her lip, hobbled by Edouard’s command not to acknowledge him, Aude watched as Hugh set the box down—yes, it was definitely hers—next to a couple of travelling chests. Travelling chests which Aude also recognised, since they too belonged to her. But they should all be on that barge…

Eyes narrowing, Edouard’s strictures forgotten, Aude stepped forward to block Hugh’s path. His sun-kissed hair was ruffled and, thanks to his exertions, a fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his splendid chest. Heavens. Those childish fantasies she had once built up around him; those dreams she had had only last year of kissing him, of cuddling him—well, she couldn’t possibly apply them to the man standing before her today, she wouldn’t dare. Spring fever, it had been spring fever. Breath constricted, Aude found herself staring into stormy eyes that were mid-way between blue and grey. Dark lashes, such long, dark lashes…Hugh’s eyes had always been breathtaking. To look at them was to ache with longing.

‘Excuse me, ma dame.’

His voice was curt. Rude. It hit her like a slap in the face. His voice was a stranger’s voice, and it reminded her that in the past Hugh had irritated her as often as not. She stiffened. Hugh must recognise her; she had known him, despite only seeing him a couple of times in recent years.

A chilly ball formed in her stomach. Hugh and Edouard might once have been close as peas in a pod, but times had changed. Today Edouard was refusing to acknowledge Hugh—or was he…?

There! Hugh and her brother exchanged the briefest of glances; indeed, Aude was almost certain she saw Hugh gave Edouard the slightest of nods. She frowned. Maybe it was only in public that Edouard was not acknowledging Hugh. What happened in private?

She sighed. Whatever was going on, it seemed she must follow her brother’s lead. Count Hugh de Freyncourt, or rather, the former Count Hugh de Freyncourt was in enough trouble, there was no point drawing attention to him. She would act as though she took him for a common sailor.

‘That packing case,’ Aude pointed, her tone was haughty. ‘And those travelling chests—why have you removed them from the ship?’

‘They were in the way.’

‘You can’t do that!’

The wide shoulders lifted. ‘I just have. Excuse me, ma dame.’

Aude inserted herself between Hugh and the plank. This was not quite the way she had envisioned informing her brother she had brought her plans forward, but that could no longer be helped.

‘Those are my belongings you are throwing about,’ she said, grandly. ‘And since I have paid for my party’s passage to Honfleur, I demand to know why you have seen fit to unload them.’

At her side, Edouard caught his breath, but Aude ignored him as she was focused on Hugh.

Hugh’s jaw clenched. A large hand was shoved through the sun-bleached hair; stormy eyes pierced her to the quick. A strange awareness made itself felt in the region of Aude’s belly, like a slow tightening. It was not unpleasant. Sweet Mother, one thing was inescapable. Hugh was disconcertingly well favoured, even when he was scowling.

‘As I told you, ma dame, they were in the way.’ He strode past her and on to the gangplank, only to return to the jetty with yet another of her travelling chests.

Aude turned to her brother, somewhat surprised she could actually think with Hugh parading that fine body before the entire port. ‘Edouard, your support here would be most welcome.’

Edouard simply folded his arms and looked blandly at her. Truth to tell, he looked more amused than angry to have had her secret out of her. And, yes, he was clearly relieved she had not acknowledged Hugh by name.

‘My support? I think not. When did you plan to leave?’

‘This afternoon.’ She gestured at Hugh. ‘Please, Edouard.’

He shook his head. ‘You intended to sneak off to Honfleur without so much as a word to me, and you expect me to back you up? No, Aude, I would have your full confidence before I give you support of any kind.’

‘I was going to tell you!’

‘Before or after your interview with the Abbot?’

‘Before! I was about to tell you when Hu…that clod starting tossing my belongings all over the quayside.’

While Aude and her brother had been talking, Hugh Duclair reappeared. With studied care he put the last of Aude’s travelling chests down next to the others. He was about to step back on to the gangplank, but this time she stopped him by placing her hand in the centre of his chest. He felt hot and he was muttering under his breath, something which sounded like, ‘If you want something done, sometimes you must do it yourself.’

She caught a faint whiff of male sweat, fresh male sweat. Oddly, it was not displeasing. Hugh might have adopted the manners of an angry barbarian but he was heart-stoppingly attractive. Even at Beaumont, tales of his wild ways with women had reached her. Aude had heard that even the most chaste of women found him irresistible—today she could believe them all.

He was affecting not to have the slightest idea of her identity or status. It hurt to see those breathtaking eyes look down at her with undisguised irritation. In the past, behind the teasing, she had sensed warmth and affection, but she could sense none now. Had the events of the last year changed him so much?

‘I must speak to the ship’s captain,’ she said, clearly and slowly.

Strong fingers peeled her hand from his chest. The curl of his lips was so arrogant it was nothing less than an insult. Regret pierced her. Had Hugh taken against them because they were not openly acknowledging him?

‘The ship’s captain,’ Hugh said, and there—again—she thought he exchanged the briefest of glances with Edouard, ‘is at the Abbey negotiating a price for shipping out a consignment of wine. When he returns, I will give him a message, if it pleases you.’

Behind her, Edouard let out a snort.

Aude whirled on him, anger rising. ‘Really, Edouard, you might help, rather than standing there sniggering.’

‘No, no.’ Edouard’s eyes were laughing. ‘This is far too entertaining. To see my sister, Aude de Crèvecoeur, brawling with Co…a common sailor…you do not need my help.’

Aude fixed Hugh with her eyes, wishing with all her might that he could see into her heart, that he could understand she had no wish to ignore him. ‘I have booked passage to Honfleur. You will be so kind as to return my things to the ship.’

‘Not a chance. This vessel is fully laden.’

‘It wasn’t earlier.’

‘It is now.’ Hugh made no attempt to hide his annoyance. ‘You will have to find another, ma dame; this is not the only river barge going as far as Honfleur.’ He pointed upriver. ‘Try that one.’

He was indicating the furthest jetty, but from her standpoint Aude could only see a rowboat stranded on the mud by the falling tide.

‘That is far too small, I need a proper river barge.’

‘There’s a barge there, take my word for it. It is tucked out of sight behind the jetty, and it sails tomorrow at high water.’

Take his word for it? Aude set her jaw. ‘But I paid passage on this one. Leaving today.’

Heaving a sigh that unfortunately drew Aude’s eyes to his magnificent chest, Hugh dug into the purse at his belt. ‘How much?’

His arrogance took her breath away. It was not that she was standing in such close proximity to his half-naked body. No, no, what was she thinking? Marshalling her wits with some difficulty, Aude scowled at Edouard. ‘Surely he cannot get away with it?’

‘Clearly he is a man of some influence with the captain,’ Edouard muttered dryly.

Hugh made an impatient movement. His eyes were bleak. ‘How much did you pay? Come on, woman, I am not at leisure here.’ He thrust some silver at her, and before Aude had time to think up a suitable reply, was back on the barge ordering the crew about as though he were the Duke himself.

Aude blinked at the silver in her hand. ‘Why, the insolent b—’

‘Careful, chérie,’ Edouard murmured in her ear. ‘That is not a word one would expect Lady Aude de Crèvecoeur to be casting about the docks.’

‘As if I cared for that.’ Foot tapping, Aude frowned at the trunks and travelling chests Hugh had stacked on the jetty. Inside, her heart was breaking—for Hugh, for the loss of her friendship with him—but that did not prevent her from feeling angry at what he had done. ‘He had no right to remove my things.’

‘Well, I for one am grateful, as it gives me a chance to make you change your mind.’

‘That will not happen. Count Richard gave me the Alfold estate and I need to see it for myself. Apparently it is much run down. I would like to set it to rights.’

‘That might not be as easy as you imagine. Think, Aude. England remains unsettled. Since Duke William took the crown, it has been a country in ferment. Remember what Count Richard told us, what happened up in the north—’

‘Alfold is in the south.’

‘The entire realm is unsettled,’ Edouard pressed on, wrapping an arm about her and giving her a conciliatory hug. ‘And irritating though you are at times, I do not want to lose you.’

‘Edouard, you are wasting words, I will not change my mind.’ She threw a dark glance towards her brother’s erstwhile friend, powerless to prevent herself from running her gaze one last time over that magnificent physique. Holy Mother help her. ‘He had no right.’

‘There is no arguing with a desperate man.’ Edouard took her by the elbow and guided her from the dockside towards the market square. ‘Besides, you really do not want to become entangled with Hugh Duclair. Remember, I do not want you speaking to him.’ His expression lightened. ‘Looks the part though, doesn’t he? Exactly like a river pirate.’

‘A river pirate? You think so?’ Aude hung back. What with that stunning masculinity, those angry, flashing eyes—the word Lucifer sprang to mind. ‘Edouard, my things! We can’t abandon them on the dock…’

Edouard gestured for his squire. ‘Raoul, be so good as to have my lady’s travelling chests returned to the Abbey lodge.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

As Raoul called over some porters, Aude allowed her brother to place her fingers back on his arm.

‘Now, Aude, I would like you to complete that confession of yours. You were about to tell me, I think, that you had booked passage to Honfleur.’

Edouard’s voice was stern, but amusement lit his eyes, it was lingering in the corners of his mouth. Aude hung her head. She did not feel particularly contrite, not when her brother seemed intent on making decisions on her behalf, decisions that were blatantly wrong, but perhaps a small show of meekness might help.

‘I am sorry to spoil your plans, Edouard, but I really have no wish to become a nun. I did try to tell you back at Crèvecoeur.’ They began walking towards the Abbey gates. ‘Believe me, the life of a nun does not appeal.’

Edouard gave her a searching look and grunted. ‘I do realise that, even though after Martin’s death I clearly recall you saying something about retiring from the world.’

Crossing the thoroughfare, they nodded a greeting to the abbot’s sentries at the gatehouse and passed under the arch and into the Abbey courtyard. The church of Our Lady stood before them with its two massive towers. The façade was bright with fresh paint—the reds and blues glowed like jewels.

Aude grimaced. ‘Yes, I remember. A person says many things in the first throes of grief that later they come to see are untrue.’

‘I can understand that, you loved Martin a great deal. Relax, Aude, I can’t see you in a convent myself, that was not my main reason for arranging the interview. I was hoping that you might be ready to consider marriage.’

‘Marriage? No!’ Suppressing a shudder, she moderated her tone. ‘One day perhaps.’ Immediately her unruly mind presented her with a disturbing image of a half-naked deck-hand. Swallowing hard, Aude thrust it to the back of her mind.

‘Aude, it was not easy arranging this appointment with the Abbot, I had to call in a few favours to get it. I insist you speak to him.’

She stiffened her spine. ‘Very well. Since you wish it, I shall meet with the Abbot. But I want to make it quite clear, I will not be forced into making vows of any kind.’

Chapter Two

Downstream at Château de Tancarville, a lookout high in the clifftop tower was idly staring at an eagle as it glided over the river below.

He yawned. Despite the wind that whistled round the heights summer and winter alike, the man’s helmet was hot and tight, and he couldn’t wait to remove it. But he was proud of his position as castle guard, so he stood firm. Duke William’s own tutor had made this castle what it was today, a defensive watchtower with clear views of Normandy for miles around.

On one side you could see the Seine gleaming like a silver snake as it wound out to the sea, and in the other direction the port of Quillebeuf. Generations ago, Viking dragonships had hidden out between raids there, as they sacked and pillaged their way inland. Jumièges, Rouen, Paris…

Nothing half so exciting had happened that morning and the sentry was bored, glad his stint was almost over.

A bell sounded the noon hour.

A rowboat was drifting at the midpoint. The rower had shipped oars and his head was turned in the direction of a mysterious wave which had formed right across the water. The lookout could not see the rower’s expression, but his stomach gave a sick lurch. He had never seen a wave like that, not on a river. It stretched from one bank to the other and it was powering upstream towards Quillebeuf and the rowboat like a serpent from hell.

A wave? Coming upstream?

‘Here, Gérard, is that a tidal bore?’

‘Can’t be, Pascal. Wrong time of year.’

‘Well, I might have had too much Rhenish last night, but that looks like a tidal bore to me. Come on, man, quick!’ he said, pointing.

Gérard looked and went grey. He swore and hastily crossing himself, leaned out over the parapet. ‘Tidal bore!’ He grabbed the rope of the alarm bell. ‘Tidal bore! La barre!’

‘That rowboat,’ Pascal added, shaking his head in horrified fascination. ‘Will it make it?’

It looked unlikely. Forced upstream by the incoming tide, the wave was gathering height as well as pace. It whipped along, bearing down on the boat faster than a man could run. Foam sprayed out along the riverbanks.

The noon bell had stopped ringing. Gérard’s alarm bell died away. Down by the river, the screaming began.

It seemed there was no escaping the interview with Abbot Bertram. Aude was determined it would not take long.

Shortly after noon, she and Edouard went to meet the Abbot in the old church, St Peter’s. They stood in the shady cool of a side passage as the chanting faded, and watched the monks file out. The rich scent of incense lingered in the air. Shafts of sunlight were falling in perfect lines through the narrow windows, illuminating here a carved bird, there an angel in full flight.

Abbot Bertram was sitting on a stone wall-bench, a compact, stern-faced man with little hair; whether this was because of his tonsure or because he was bald it was impossible to say. His face was elongated; he had strong features and startling black eyebrows that gave him a somewhat surprised air. Gems glittered in the polished gold cross that hung at his breast.

‘Lord Edouard, it is good to see you.’

‘Thank you, Lord Abbot. I trust you are in good health?’

‘Never better. Please sit.’ The Abbot waved Aude and Edouard to cushions on the bench. The windows above their heads were unglazed, but since it was the height of summer, the breeze playing over their heads was a blessing rather than a curse.

‘So, Lord Edouard, this is the sister I have heard so much about.’

‘Yes, my lord, this is Lady Aude de Crèvecoeur.’

‘My lady.’

‘Abbot Bertram.’

‘Lord Edouard, when your letter first arrived, I assumed you to mean that your sister had a vocation and that you wished me to find a suitable house in which she might live out her life.’

‘Lord Abbot,’ Edouard said, ‘I apologise if you were put to any trouble.’

‘My son, it is never a trouble to find places for any of our sisters who have a true vocation. And it is never wrong to test that vocation before binding vows are made. Such vows are sacred; once made they are irrevocable. It would be a grievous sin for someone to make them only to discover later that they have changed their mind and that they no longer wish to offer their life to God.’

Aude met the Abbot’s gaze. ‘Abbot Bertram, if I may say something?’

‘Speak freely, my lady. You have considered how you wish to spend your days?’

‘I have. You must know that my fiancé, Martin de Beaumont, died just over a year ago?’

‘Indeed, your brother informed me of his untimely death. Please accept my sympathies.’

‘Thank you. Abbot Bertram, it is true that after Martin’s death I considered taking the veil. But deeper thought has made me realise that the contemplative life is not for me.’ It was Hugh, Aude realised with a start. Hugh with his teasing smile, the smile that could lift me out of my grief, the smile that could startle because last spring it made me wonder what it might be like to kiss him…

‘Are you certain, my lady? The Church would welcome you. Perhaps one of the less…austere orders might suit you?’

Aude’s every muscle tensed and she had opened her mouth to speak when Edouard cleared his throat. ‘My lord, I am sorry if there has been any misunderstanding, but I must make it clear, my sister is not to be coerced. I have given my word that her will should be respected.’

Aude sent him a grateful smile.

‘Of course, of course.’ The abbot was beginning to sound irritable. ‘Compulsion would negate the offering to God. Anyone giving their life to the Church must do so freely. But I would hate to see your sister idle away her days. She has many strengths and talents, and to waste them would be a sin against the very God who gave them to her. Perhaps Lady Aude needs further, more focused guidance—a retreat, perhaps?’

‘No!’ Aude knew her voice was sharp, but she could not help it. ‘My apologies, Lord Abbot, but there would be no sense in that. I have no vocation and that will not change, however many retreats you may offer me.’

‘Your mind is fixed.’

‘On this matter it is.’

‘Perhaps you think to marry?’

‘One day, perhaps.’

The Abbot pushed himself to his feet and held up his hand in brief blessing. ‘I shall leave you to your meditations. Ponder well on the benefits that would accrue to your family should Lady Aude make a good marriage to a reliable man, a man whose loyalty to Duke William is unquestionable. With that in mind, there is someone I should like Lady Aude to meet. In view of the clouds that still hang over your brother, my lady, I would beg you to ponder hard on the merits of what I have suggested. May God guide your decision, Lady Aude, and may He bless you both.’

‘Farewell, my lord,’ Edouard said.

‘He’s after my dowry,’ Aude muttered, frowning at Abbot Bertram’s back as he left the church.

‘He will be sending in one of his knights next,’ Edouard said.

‘You are not serious!’

‘Never more so. Listen, Aude…’ Edouard lowered his voice ‘…I can understand you not wanting to enter a convent, but I do think you should consider marriage, and soon. Some time this year.’

‘This year? Edouard, there’s something you are not telling me. What have you done?’

Her brother looked steadily at her, saying nothing. Her fingers had clenched into fists; deliberately, she uncurled them. Today was not turning out as she had hoped it would. Hugh—banished! And now this…

‘Edouard? It would help the family if I made a good marriage?’

He sighed. ‘An alliance with one of the Abbot’s more trusted knights would cement our position in Normandy. No one would ever question our loyalty to the Duke.’

‘I really do not—’

‘Aude, shut that mouth for once and meet the Abbot’s man. You never know, you might find that he suits.’

‘The Abbot’s man? Edouard, have you arranged something behind my back?’

Edouard cleared his throat. ‘Just meet the man. We shall proceed from there.’

‘No! Edouard, you…you…I hate you!’

‘No, you don’t. Aude, you have to marry some time. It is, as Abbot Bertram says, the moment to make your choice.’

‘Some choice! You present me with a man I have never laid eyes on! Edouard, you worm! You planned this all along. I feel betrayed, betrayed!’

In the distance, a door slammed.

‘Hush, Aude, for the love of God, here he comes.’

Brisk footsteps drew closer, Aude couldn’t bear to look. If only it could be Hugh. But that, a wish so secret she had barely acknowledged it even to herself, had always been a vain hope.

‘Good day, Lord Edouard.’

He had a pleasant voice. Unfamiliar. Aude lifted her eyes. A blue tunic. The Abbot’s knight was tall with dark eyes and curly brown hair. His smile was friendly. Slightly reassured, she rose to greet him.

Everyone stood to benefit if she married this stranger. This knight would get his reward—Aude and her dowry. Yes, it would be a fine arrangement. If Aude de Crèvecoeur married one of the Abbot’s knights, everyone would be happy. Everyone except her…

‘Sir Olivier!’ Edouard smiled. ‘Good to see you again, man, good to see you. Aude, may I present Sir Olivier de Fougères? Sir Olivier, my sister Aude.’

‘Enchanté, ma dame.’

‘Sir Olivier.’ Aude made her voice cool.

As the Abbot’s knight bowed over her hand, a peculiar fancy took her. Hugh Duclair was standing in Sir Olivier’s place, and he was no longer a banished man. Hugh was wearing a silk tunic banded with intricate embroidery, gold gleamed on the pommel of his sword, and his eyes were glittering with laughter as they had done that spring at Crèvecoeur…

‘Abbot Bertram suggested I spoke to you.’ Sir Olivier’s voice brought her crashing back to reality. ‘And that your brother approved our meeting.’

‘Indeed?’ Carefully she withdrew her hand. Not Hugh. Heavens, what was happening to her? She bit her lip.

‘My lady, both the Abbot and your brother speak highly of your qualities.’

‘It is good to hear my brother values me.’

‘And why should he not? But not only your brother, my lord Abbot speaks highly of you too. Word has spread of your competence at Beaumont, not to mention the changes you have wrought at Crèvecoeur.’

‘Oh.’

‘Lady Aude, I would be honoured if you would care to walk with me in the orchard. We might get to know each other a little better. You don’t object, I take it, Lord Edouard?’

‘Be my guest.’ Edouard had a definite smile in his voice.

‘My lady?’

Aude put her hand on the knight’s arm and he led her out of the church.

The tidal surge roared along. It was only a few miles short of Jumièges and it was larger than ever. The wave spanned the Seine; it burst over the banks. White crests foamed and frothed at the margins, churning the mud, snatching at dead branches.

The surge pushed on, unstoppable. Boats rocked at moorings, the wave broke over them, filling them to sinking point in a moment. River barges were ripped away, stolen by the great press of water. This was la barre, also called the mascaret.

At the Ételan riverbank, a woman’s eyes widened and she ran to snatch her daughter clear of the foreshore.

Near the harbour at Villequier, a little boy murmured, ‘Viking wave,’ and stuck his thumb in his mouth, eyes round as pennies.

At Caudebec-en-Caux, a monk made the sign of the cross when he noticed the white horses racing upriver. He shouted a warning at a woman hauling eel-traps in from one of the jetties. She never heard him. Foam sprayed in her face; the wave swirled round her ankles, tugged at her skirts and bore her away. There was more screaming. Choking. A mouth full of river water mixed with brine. The river swallowed her.

Jumièges lay around the next curl of the river. Only minutes away, la barre drove relentlessly towards it.

Bees were humming in the lavender hedge that bordered the Abbey orchard. Butterflies wavered past, drunk with nectar and sunshine. Walking sedately through the orchard with the long grasses brushing her skirts, Aude shot the Abbot’s knight a sidelong glance.

Sir Olivier was, as Edouard no doubt knew, well favoured and attractive. He had good teeth, he was powerfully built and he had a smile that might charm the larks from the sky. He had tucked her arm into his and she could feel strength under the broadcloth of his tunic. So far, she had seen nothing to dislike, and it was a pity she could not warm to him. Hugh. What would it be like to be walking in this orchard with Hugh Duclair?

Sir Olivier reached to pluck an apple from a tree and passed it to her.

‘My thanks.’ The fruit was red and unblemished. It held the heat of the sun, but Aude did not want it any more than she wanted the man. The memory of a teasing smile held more allure.

Firmly, she put the memory behind her. Hugh had no smile for her today.

Brown eyes gleamed as they looked at her, and with practised ease Sir Olivier manoeuvred her against one of the lichen-covered tree trunks. When his eyes darkened, she realised he was going to kiss her.

Aude lifted her lips. She had to admit, she was curious. Despite two betrothals and a hopeless yearning for a certain banished lord, she was sadly lacking in experience with regard to kissing. The only man to have kissed her had been her Martin. She had adored Martin, but she had only been thirteen when they had become betrothed and they had pledged to remain chaste until their wedding day.

That was no doubt why Martin’s kisses had been so brief; he had not wanted to tempt either of them into breaking their vows. Affectionate but chaste, Martin’s kisses had left her entirely unmoved. And as for her second fiancé, Count Richard had known she was grieving—he had not touched her. Besides, Count Richard had had a Saxon mistress to entertain him…

Sir Olivier bent his head.

Aude did not know this man; never mind that his handsome features left her unmoved, she would try for her brother’s sake. Edouard thought she had been grieving too long, that grief was her habit and it needed to be broken. Perhaps he was right. This knight might teach her to enjoy his touch. Well, let us see. If I find you pleasing, an alliance might be possible…

A tall, broad body blotted out the sun. Aude felt herself go stiff. It was not Hugh’s body, she felt no desire to touch it.

Her nose wrinkled. Sir Olivier’s blue tunic smelt faintly of sweat, stale sweat that made her want to turn her head aside. Not all men had this smell, she recalled, as the naked shoulders and finely sculpted musculature of Hugh Duclair came into focus in her mind.

‘My lady, I swear if you were to honour me with your hand, I would cherish you all my life.’

The eyes of the Abbot’s knight were almost black and as she tipped her head back Aude could see her own small self reflected back at her. What was he seeing? Herself? Or the lands and the dowry she would bring him?

The body of the Abbot’s knight pressed against her, flustering her, hemming her in. Her apple fell to the ground and she forced herself to stand still while his lips touched hers.

Nothing.

Aude felt nothing but a sense of unease. No, it was stronger than that, it was irritation and it was growing stronger with every second that his mouth was on hers. Smothered—he was smothering her. Her hand came up to push him away. He caught it in one of his. She swallowed down a protest.

Sir Olivier pressed closer, pushing her back against the tree. Think of our family, she told herself, we need to make a good alliance.

Aude held firm as he pressed closer. Her veil snagged on a twig and her sense of irritation increased.

‘Ouch! Sir Olivier!’

He could not have heard for he went on kissing her. He was trying to insert his tongue between her teeth. A shudder, and it was entirely of revulsion, went through her. Martin had never done anything half so repulsive. Aude twisted her head. There was a ripping sound as the twig tore the delicate fabric of her veil. Her hair felt as though someone was pulling it out at the roots.

‘Ow! Please, sir!’

His body smelled sour. Sir Olivier might be wearing a pretty tunic but it was better suited to winter than summer and it needed rather more than an airing.

He lifted his head and Aude no longer felt suffocated. The sense of irritation faded. He smiled; it was a very charming smile, his best feature. Boyish and vulnerable, his smile told her, for all that he was a knight, this man was malleable. He would never bend her to his will.

In that instant Aude recognised that if she and Sir Olivier were to make a match of it, he would defer to her. Thoughtfully, she looked at him. She might not warm to him, she might never yearn for him, but it seemed he was a rarity among the knightly class. He would not forget that the lands that came with the marriage belonged to her.

‘Oh, your veil! I am sorry, my lady, I wouldn’t have had that happen for the world, except…’

‘Yes?’ Aude felt as though she were not really here in the orchard, she was watching Sir Olivier from many miles away. This Abbot’s knight, this landless knight wanted her dowry. Her hair had come loose, a strand was gleaming in a patch of dappled sunlight; when he reached to caress it and sighed, laughter formed inside her.

‘Your hair, it is so beautiful, I had no idea,’ he murmured. ‘You are a goddess, a golden goddess of beauty.’

Yes, a giggle was definitely rising, Aude sank her teeth into her lips to keep it in. Sir Olivier had a fine opinion of himself, but she could not take him seriously. And as for his touch, his kiss…

What would Hugh’s kiss be like?

Unhooking her hair from his fingers, Aude turned away and set about straightening her veil. Stop thinking about Hugh! Give this knight your full attention. If he is indeed malleable, he might be useful.

When Aude had set her appearance to rights, Sir Olivier was leaning against the tree, biting into an apple.

‘My lady, it is your brother’s wish that we marry.’

‘Yes, I know, but—’

Sir Olivier tossed the apple aside and reached her in two strides. ‘It is my wish also.’

‘Sir, my dowry is not large, but nevertheless I think you are more interested in my lands than my person.’

‘Not so!’ He took her hands, kissing each in turn. ‘I admit that was the case before I met you, but now that I have met you…’

Aude pulled free. ‘You are very glib, sir. You know I have a manor near Crèvecoeur?’

‘Yes.’

‘And my grandfather left a chest of money with the Abbot here. That is my dowry.’

‘I know about that, but—’

‘I also,’ Aude swept on, ‘have been gifted a small estate in Wessex. Did you know of that?’

Sir Olivier’s handsome face crinkled into a frown. ‘Where the devil is Wessex?’

‘It is in England, sir.’

‘Your brother gave you this estate?’

‘No, my fiancé gave it to me.’

‘Count Martin? I was not aware he had lands in England.’

‘No, Sir Olivier, it is Count Richard I am referring to.’

The Abbot’s knight tipped his head to one side. ‘The man who stepped into Martin’s shoes? I never realised you were promised to him too.’

‘Only briefly. We soon agreed that we should not suit, and as a parting gift Count Richard granted me this estate in England.’

Sir Olivier looked puzzled. ‘Well, that is all to the good, my lady, but I meant it when I said I wished to marry you and not your lands.’

‘I am telling you this,’ Aude softened her voice, ‘because I want you to understand my intentions. I am currently on my way to Wessex.’

His eyes widened. ‘I see.’

‘I hope that you do. I wish to tour my estate there and ensure that it is in good order. And whatever my brother may say, I am not going to make any decisions regarding my future until my return.’

‘And when might that be?’

Aude shrugged. ‘That will largely depend on what I find in England.’ She gave him a straight look. ‘My brother thinks to sway me, Sir Olivier, but—’

‘You cannot be swayed.’ He grinned.

Not by you, Aude thought, which, oddly, was the very reason she might consider marrying him in the future. If she had to…‘No, sir. I shall tour my estate; there are matters there that need my attention. With luck I will be back at Crèvecoeur by Advent.’

‘You will risk a winter crossing? Is that wise?’

Aude made an impatient movement. ‘I will not travel if the weather is inclement. What I am saying, Sir Olivier, is—’

‘No. You are saying no. You will not have me.’

Aude was startled to see disappointment written so clearly on the handsome face. And she would swear it was more than the loss of her dowry; this man appeared to genuinely want her for his wife. Malleable indeed.

‘Yes, Sir Olivier,’ she spoke gently but firmly. ‘I am afraid that I am.’

His nostrils flared and she found herself at the receiving end of another of those charming smiles. ‘When do you leave?’ he asked, politely offering her his arm.

As they started walking back to the church, tension seeped out of her, and Aude realised she had been braced for a churlish reaction. Her heart warmed to him. There were not many knights who would accept her decision so well. Charmer he might be, but Sir Olivier was genuinely likeable, which was all to the good. Particularly since Edouard would be more agreeable about her visiting England if she went in the company of the knight he had chosen for her husband…

‘I had planned to take a barge to Honfleur this afternoon, but another passenger took my place and had my baggage thrown off the ship.’

He missed a step. ‘Surely not?’

‘Really.’ They resumed their slow progress towards St Peter’s church where Edouard was waiting for them.

‘What will you do, my lady?’

‘Find another ship.’

‘Does Lord Edouard know what you have in mind?’

‘Yes, but I fear he may try to delay my departure.’ Aude gave him a straight look. ‘I should like to trust you, sir. May I?’

Brown eyes looked earnestly into hers. ‘It would be my honour to assist you, my lady.’

‘There is no need to feel compelled.’

‘Lady Aude, it will be no trouble.’ His smile broadened. ‘I want to help. You see, I hope to prove myself worthy of you.’

Firmly, Aude shook her head. ‘My mind is made up, Sir Olivier. I will not marry you.’ Unless I have to…

‘You will forgive a man for hoping.’

The brown eyes held hers steadily, and after a moment Aude nodded. ‘I will not change my mind, but I will accept your help. I am told that another river barge is due to set out tomorrow. In order to avoid an argument with Edouard—he wishes me to delay, and I am for leaving as soon as possible—I shall be needing new travelling chests.’

She was sent another of those charming smiles. ‘My lady, I know the very place where they might be found.’

Chapter Three

Owing to the need for discretion, Hugh Duclair had three horses stabled at one of the quieter inns a little downstream from Jumièges. The inn was small and in need of repair, daylight was visible through the stable roof. It was not a place in which he would choose to stable horses in winter, but since it was summer and a hot one at that, he had known the animals would be snug enough.

Having paid their accounting with the innkeeper, Hugh and his squire, Gil, were riding back along the riverbank towards the port. The river was almost at the full, and swifts screeched across the sky, fast as arrows.

Hugh was thinking about Aude de Crèvecoeur. Great God, it had knocked him back seeing her this morning. Edouard, Hugh had been half-expecting to see, but his sister…No, seeing Aude had been a surprise.

Each time Hugh saw Aude it seemed that she was becoming more and more beautiful. Little Brat, he had called her, years ago, and the name had stuck, much to her irritation. There had been no trace of the Brat today. At first Hugh had thought Aude was ignoring him, as well she ought given his present circumstances—it would not serve her well to recognise him. But what had startled him most wasn’t the way his heart had lifted at sight of her—he had always been fond of little Aude—it was the way his gut had twisted when she had not immediately acknowledged him.

The matter of his banishment had hardened him; Hugh had learned to inure himself to his friends rejecting him. Politics—he knew it was just a question of politics. But it would seem that Aude was an exception; he had thoroughly disliked it when she had not recognised him.

Might Aude come to believe that the accusations against him were true? That there was no smoke without fire? Hugh’s jaw clenched. He could only pray, could only trust that she would remember their past friendship.

He grimaced and glanced down ruefully at his horse, an unremarkable bay gelding. Aude might not recognise him if she saw him now. The previous time they had met, he had been riding into Crèvecoeur on Shadow, his warhorse. With a full escort.

Hugh forced his thoughts back to the present. His warhorse had been left at Freyncourt—Shadow was far too showy for a man not wishing to attract attention to himself. After midnight tonight, he should be out of the Duchy. Which was why he was wearing a worn grey tunic and was astride a gelding he hadn’t bothered to name, an animal that had more temper than manners. Gil was mounted on a small black, a brown mare on a leading rein trotted beside him. The mare belonged to Hugh’s thirteen-year-old sister Louise.

Louise was, if she had done as Hugh had ordered, waiting for them back at the barge. Hugh loved his little sister and enjoyed her company, but in the dark days ahead, he was going to have to part with her. He had no right to drag his sister all over Christendom while he fought to clear his name.

‘I hope Louise hasn’t taken it into her head to explore the market,’ he said. ‘We shall be casting off at high tide; the ship won’t wait for her. Besides, she really must learn that we have no coin to spare until we regain what the Bishop has stolen from us.’

‘No, my lord,’ Gil murmured. ‘I am sure Lady Louise understands.’

Hugh looked bleakly at his squire. ‘Are you?’

Anger burned deep within him. Anger at the calumnies spread against him, anger that the Bishop’s lies had been so readily believed. He and his sister were reduced to penury, because the Bishop of St Aubin wanted to keep the silver his father had deposited with him for safe-keeping. Family silver. Freyncourt silver.

Hugh might be a Count, but he was discovering it was not easy proving his innocence. He had, so the word went, supported Duke William’s enemies in the recent power struggle in Flanders. And the documents that would support the deposits his father had left with the Bishop had gone missing. At first Hugh had thought, naïvely, as it turned out, that it would be a simple matter of proving his innocence, of finding those documents. How wrong he had been.

His Holiness, the Bishop of St Aubin, vehemently denied the existence of the Freyncourt silver.

And the document that proved it?

Missing from his father’s strongbox.

‘I wish I had your confidence, Gil; we only have a few hours to quit the Duchy.’

‘I am sure she will be waiting at the barge, my lord.’

Hugh frowned. ‘Gil?’

‘My lord?’

‘You really must dispense with my title from now on. It will be important you use my Christian name in the days to come.’

‘Yes…Hugh.’

Against all the odds, Hugh felt a smile forming. ‘And for God’s sake, try to use it more naturally, you sound as though it might choke you.’

‘I am sorry…Hugh…but I think that it might. I will endeavour to try harder.’

‘See that you do. Today we hired ourselves out as ship’s porters to save a coin or two. But tomorrow? Who knows what part we will have to play tomorrow? If you cannot address me as an equal—and my sister, too, for that matter—I shall have to dismiss you until I am reinstated.’

Gil’s expression of horror was eloquent enough to make further words unnecessary. His squire would, Hugh was sure, get it right from now on.

They lapsed into silence. Hugh was lost in his plans when an alarm bell jerked him out of them.

Gil yelped and pointed downriver. ‘Holy Mother, what is that?’

A wave was rolling along the river. Couldn’t be, but it was.

A wave?

Hugh’s heart began to thud. He dug his heels into the gelding’s ribs. ‘La barre,’ he muttered.

The wave was rushing upstream towards the port. White crests foamed at both banks. In the centre, a wall of water reared up.

Behind him, Gil began to babble as he spurred his horse. ‘My l—Hugh! The boats! The jetties!’

‘More to the point—Louise!’

Hugh gave the gelding his head. They pounded up the track towards the quays.

In the port ahead, others had noticed the wave. People were crying out, pointing, dragging pack animals away from the water side, darting forwards to drag bales of wool clear of the water-line. The tocsin rang on, louder than before.

Louise! She should be on the barge. The blood thumped in Hugh’s ears as beneath him the gelding’s hoofs drummed the ground. The wall of water was closer, almost level with the port itself. Hugh had heard tales about tidal surges, had heard of the damage they caused, but until this moment he had thought them exaggeration. Now as he stared dry-mouthed at the approaching surge, he wasn’t so sure.

Louise! As the gelding thundered towards the port, part of him was praying that his sister had disobeyed him. She often did. But the cold lump in his belly was telling him that this time, Louise had done as she was told. ‘Stay in the boat,’ he had said. ‘Be good.’ Mon Dieu.

‘We’re too far away!’ The despair in Gil’s voice sounded like Louise’s death knell. ‘Impossible to get there!’

Hell! The surge was a mere five yards from their barge which, since it was moored at the end of the jetty, would be one of the first to be struck. Hugh focused on a slight figure in a brown gown and his blood turned to ice—Louise! There she was, she had heard the commotion, had run to the ship’s rail to stare.

‘Get out, Louise!’ Hugh yelled. ‘Get out!’ But it was hopeless, Louise could not hear him. It was too late, he could never reach her in time.

Hugh Duclair had told Aude the truth; another river barge was indeed moored downstream, in a shady inlet behind the far jetty. Sir Olivier—he was being most useful—had helped her find it.

Aude had booked passage on it for the following morning, and with the knight’s assistance had covertly acquired new travelling chests. Aude’s maid, Edwige, had quickly transferred most of Aude’s belongings to the new chests.

The old trunks had been plain wood, studded and banded with iron. The new ones were painted, the surfaces covered with daisy-like flowers. Once Edwige had finished packing, Aude and Sir Olivier had between them supervised their safe stowing on the barge in the backwater.

That being done, Aude and Sir Olivier were walking arm in arm along the riverbank back to the main port.

‘I do not think Lord Edouard suspects you are intending to leave tomorrow, my lady,’ Sir Olivier said.

‘No, I hate to deceive him, but I must confess I am glad you have agreed to accompany me.’

Sir Olivier smiled. ‘You know the reason for that, my lady. My time with the Abbot has come to an end and—’

‘Sir, you know I will not marry you; you will not persuade me.’

‘Perhaps, perhaps not…’

‘Sir, you must believe me. But I do hope to use some of my English revenues to pay your knight’s fee. I will need support in Alfold.’

His face brightened. ‘You would like to hire me?’

‘Yes, I—’

A piercing scream cut through the air. A tocsin was sounding.

‘What on earth…?’ Aude lifted her hand from Sir Olivier’s arm.

More screaming. Hairs prickled on the back of Aude’s neck. Snatching up her skirts, she started running towards the quays.

She took in the approaching wave—coming upstream?—and the panicky scurrying on the jetties. People were shoving past her, faces blank with fear. Spray arched skywards, droplets glowing like a rainbow. Someone else started screaming; everyone was screaming.

And there, alone in the barge nearest the oncoming water, stood a little girl—a child—in brown homespun. She was looking at the wave, frozen with shock, forgotten.

The wave reached up like a living thing. The barge lurched sideways, the mooring rope snapped. The girl’s shriek rose like a gull’s above the clamour and the wave thundered down, dragging the girl into a swirl of frothing, seething foam.

Hissing snakes, Aude thought, as something clicked inside her. There was no time for thought, she tore the veil from her head and hurled herself forwards.

‘My lady, no!’

The river swooshed past, flooding the jetty. There was noise, Aude’s ears were full of it: rushing, screaming, bells. So much noise, it deafened. Water hit, came up to her calves. The river roared, drowning out the snakes. Cold.

Water slapped her legs, almost toppling her. The ancient river gods had come alive and they were out to get her. Aude held her ground. One hand found a mooring post and she clung. The other reached for the girl as her barge was swept away, bucking and rocking out among the white horses.

‘Take my hand!’ Aude cried.

The girl in brown was being tossed about like a bundle of rags among the packing cases, but the water was bringing her closer. She was barely managing to keep her head above water; if she let the incoming tide take her, she wouldn’t last more than a minute.

Someone else was in the water. A woman wailed. ‘Didier! Didier!’

Aude fixed her whole attention on the child. A barrel thumped into her and her knees buckled. She held her ground. The girl vanished beneath the surface before reappearing a few yards nearer, water steaming down, hair stuck to her skull. A small hand reached for hers.

‘That’s it!’

Bracing herself, Aude stretched forwards.

Their hands met and clutched. Held. The girl’s body swung round; the river was determined to carry her upstream. Aude gripped that small hand as though her life depended on it. Her arm felt as though it was being ripped from its socket.

And then she was no longer alone. Sir Olivier was at her shoulder, catching the child’s other hand, the brown skirts. Together, they wrestled her out of the water.

The wave had passed Jumièges; it was ploughing on upriver, but the danger was not over.

‘Be careful, my lady,’ Sir Olivier gasped, as they got the girl clear of the water and he lifted her into his arms. ‘There’s a fierce wake. Mind the wake.’

Even as he started back to shore, a packing case thudded against Aude’s shin.

Aude’s legs buckled. She fought to find her footing and slipped head first into the boiling river.

Galloping flat out along the high water-line, Hugh had arrived in time to see that Louise was safe. The havoc the surge had caused at the port had almost stopped his heart. A couple of rowboats, their moorings severed, were being tossed about on the river; barges were drifting midstream without oarsmen or steersmen; upturned boats were being carried towards Rouen, but Louise was safe.

Aude had saved her! It had to have been Edouard’s sister; Hugh recognised that green gown. The pristine whiteness of her veil stood out in a crowd, she stood out in a crowd, risking herself to save Louise. She had handed Louise to Sir Olivier. And now she herself was gone.

He had to find her. Little Brat. She must be saved, she must.

Breathing hard, Hugh fixed his eyes on the spot where he had last seen Aude. Nothing. He shifted his gaze a little upstream. Still nothing. The branch of a tree. Something that looked like sacking. A white…her veil, surely?

No, no, she had torn that off, had flung it aside.

Yes! There she was, several yards behind the crest of the wave, in the churned up, muddy waters of its wake.

As Hugh narrowed his eyes, the main front of the bore reached him. He held the gelding steady as the wave crashed on to the bank. Spray fanned out in all directions, droplets gleaming pretty as dew in the morning sun. His horse shifted, shaking his head, legs trembling. Hugh held him steady. So deadly, that river. The front raced by, soaking him, his horse, and doubtless Gil, who was swearing colourfully somewhere behind him.

Hell, where was Aude? He had lost sight of her again. Desperation gripped him, he couldn’t breathe. Where? Where was she?

The river was seething and choppy, broken up into thousands of wavelets as the wave forged its way inland. The gelding shifted; he was afraid of the river today, and Hugh could not blame him.

Where was she?

There! A few yards out, Aude’s head had reappeared next to a bundle of straw. Both were sinking.

Hugh kicked his heels, guiding the gelding into the water. The river shall not have her! The force of his feeling rocked him, but then he had long had a soft spot for Aude de Crèvecoeur. Despite appearances, her life had not been easy. This morning by the barge, Hugh had been occupied, but he had noticed her the moment she had stepped on to the quayside. And he was almost certain that, despite Edouard’s orders to the contrary, Aude had wanted to speak to him. She hadn’t wanted to speak to the surly deckhand who had removed her belongings from the barge—she had wanted to speak to him, to Hugh Duclair. Foolish, foolish girl.

Edouard’s sister, like Edouard, had a loyal heart, and he would be damned before he saw her bravery rewarded by drowning. There was enough injustice in Normandy without adding Aude’s death to the scales. Edouard’s strictures, his own resolution not to drag Aude into his affairs must, for the moment, be set aside.

‘Careful, Hugh, that river has power.’

Thanks to Hugh’s urging, his horse entered the water faster than was safe. Its flanks shuddered, its eyes rolled, it fought Hugh’s commands, but it obeyed.

Aude was clinging to an oar, a wavelet breaking over her. Her plaits had unravelled. Her hair streamed out, dark red against the cloudy water.

‘Let go!’ Hugh took the gelding in as far as he dared. It would help no one if he were swept away too. ‘Strike out for me!’

Hugh doubted that Aude could swim—no lady of his acquaintance could—but she seemed to understand that the oar would carry her away. She let go and surrendered herself to the water.

Determined to intercept her, Hugh angled his horse sideways. It wasn’t particularly deep here. The gelding was still on its feet, but the force of the water would have been too strong for a person to withstand. The rush of the river filled his ears.

Aude was blinded by water. Her mouth was full of brine and it was choking her. Cold. It was so cold. How could river water be so cold when the day was so warm? The horseman who had waded in after her—she could not see him clearly for the stinging in her eyes—must be quite mad. Her hair, too, was blinding her. She spluttered and choked.

The horseman was shouting, but Aude couldn’t hear him for the roaring—whether it was the roaring of the river or her own blood, she could not tell. Her lungs ached. Water slapped her in the face.

He was getting close, thank God. Her legs tangled in waterlogged skirts, her arms refused to obey her. Heavy, everything was heavy, pulling her down. But even as Aude felt herself sinking, she was carried towards him, the madman on the bay horse.

Yes! Only a little further.

‘Come on, Aude!’

He knew her name?

Feebly Aude kicked her feet—her shoes had gone almost as soon as she hit the water. Her toes scraped the bottom, but it was impossible to stand. Too fast, the river was running too fast.

She hit the horse’s flank, the horseman’s leg. Glimpsed red cross-gartering. Another wave tried to drown her. Blindly, she groped for a well-muscled calf and hooked her fingers into his cross-gartering.

‘Hold hard!’

A madman, clearly. Why else would he be commanding her to do the obvious? More water found its way into Aude’s lungs and a fit of coughing took her as he turned the horse and she was dragged ignominiously towards the river bank like so much wet washing.

On dry land, she let go and fell on her knees. Someone was talking. Aude couldn’t make out the words; it sounded as though bees were buzzing. Blackness was swirling at the edges of her vision, exactly as, moments ago, the water had swirled about her. She retched and retched again. Warm hands were on her shoulders, supporting her. He was sweeping her hair back to keep it clear of her face. Her chest ached.

‘That’s right, Aude,’ her rescuer said. ‘Get it out. All of it.’

Aude? More retching. Her stomach burned. And still he was holding her.

‘Better?’

Nodding, Aude sat back down, panting. She looked into his face.

‘Hugh!’

Hugh Duclair’s stormy blue eyes were anxious and his thumbs were making tiny caressing movements on her shoulders, but even as she watched the anxiety faded. He released her and shifted away. ‘Ma dame, I do not think you know me.’

‘Oh, yes, I do, I—’

‘Ma dame, your brother has forbidden you to acknowledge me.’

She gripped the frayed edge of his sleeve. It was that or reach for Hugh’s hand and the look in his eyes warned her that such a gesture would not be welcome. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Hugh, you saved me! Besides, you proved you know me when you called me by name.’

Sighing, Hugh sat down on the bank beside her. He was almost as out of breath as she was. Someone else was riding up, a young man with another horse on a leading rein. His squire, Gil—Aude recognised him from last year. She flung a weak smile at him. Thank God, not all Hugh Duclair’s friends had deserted him.

‘In any case, I thank you,’ she said, as another fit of coughing overcame her. She put a hand to her throat, she felt hoarse. ‘I was never…never so glad to see anyone in my life.’

Hugh grinned and for a moment his face transformed and he was his old self. A handsome Viking of a man who was her brother’s closest friend; a man who was—thank goodness—utterly oblivious of the fact that while Aude had been a girl, she had put him at the centre of many a romantic dream.

‘No, my lady, I should be thanking you.’

Still panting, Aude shoved her hair back. ‘Me?’

Hugh’s sun-gilded head nodded in the direction of the port. ‘That was my sister in the barge back there.’

‘Your sister?’ Aude had heard of Louise, naturally, though she had never met her.

‘Yes, indeed. My one and only little sister.’ Hugh put his hand on his heart and his eyes held hers. He was regarding her so warmly that the heat rushed back into her cheeks and for a moment she could not look away. ‘Aude, I owe you more than I can say. My sister is—’

‘Hugh! Hugh!’

‘Gil?’

‘Some monks and a couple of the Abbot’s knights are heading this way.’

‘Merde, they cannot be allowed to delay us.’

Aude could practically see Hugh’s cares fall back on his shoulders: banished with time running out on him; concern for his sister; the loss of his baggage on that barge…

He pushed to his feet, and Aude found herself staring at a pair of strong male legs. His boots squelched.

‘I got you wet, Hugh, I am sorry.’ There was a cold lump under Aude’s breastbone. There was so much she longed to discuss with him, she wanted to wish him well…

But already Hugh was moving away. ‘It is of no matter,’ he said. ‘You have my eternal thanks. The good brothers will see to your welfare while I go and find Louise. And, Aude, if they should ask, remember that it is best that you do not know me.’ He gave her a brief bow, and in a couple of heartbeats he and Gil had gone.

Aude was sitting alone on the ravaged foreshore when the monks arrived to exclaim over her and offer her their assistance.

‘Haven’t you had enough of the river today, my lady?’ Edwige asked, curling her lip as she edged round a stinking tangle of fish nets. The wave had strung much debris along the river path and the two women were carefully making their way upstream, towards the concealed inlet.

‘Believe me, I have, but we won’t be long.’

Aude had bathed and washed the salt and mud from her hair and put on a dry gown and veil. ‘As soon as we have reassured ourselves that our property is still on that barge, we shall return to the Abbey.’

On the foreshore, some boys were hauling a halfsunk rowboat out of the river, scraping and bumping it across the stones as they dragged it in. With a grunt and a heave they tipped it on its side and the water poured out. Where was Hugh now? Had he found his sister? How was he going to prove his loyalty to the Duke?

Edwige touched her arm. ‘Where did you say this barge is?’

‘A little further on the left, there’s a backwater and…there!’ Aude pointed at a mooring in the shade of an overhanging alder. The barge looked intact. ‘See, it is exactly as I left it! I hoped it would be, tied up out of the way as it is. Come along, Edwige, stop dawdling. Don’t you want to see for yourself that your trunk is safe?’

It wouldn’t have been the end of the world for Aude and Edwige to have lost their belongings; everything they were taking to England could easily have been replaced. Which likely could not be said for Hugh Duclair. Hugh had lost so much when he had lost Duke William’s trust. His lands and his revenues had been confiscated, and today the river had snatched what little remained. When the money in his purse ran out, he would have nothing. What must that feel like?

‘What’s he doing here?’ Edwige’s sharp whisper cut into Aude’s thoughts. ‘Is he following us?’

Aude glanced back. A masculine figure in a threadbare grey tunic was striding purposefully after them. She went very still. Hugh.

The soon-to-be exiled Count de Freyncourt was rolling down his sleeves as he came and when he reached within a couple of feet of her, he bowed his head in that slightly ironic way he had. ‘My lady.’ Aude had the fleeting impression that he was pleased to see her again; she was certainly glad to see him.

‘Hugh, was Louise all right?’

‘Perfectly, thank you. Gil is looking after her.’

So tall. And when the sunlight gilds the tips of his hair, he really does look like Lucifer. Her eyes fell on the fraying sleeves of his grey tunic. A beautiful, albeit rather shabby Lucifer…

‘I should not really be speaking to you, my brother will disapprove.’ Aude softened her words with a smile.

She really did not understand it, but truly it was impossible not to smile when Hugh looked down at her like that. His eyes were soft and unguarded, as they had been before his banishment. His mouth had gone up at the corner, exactly as it used to when laughter between them was but a breath away. Aude was beginning to think that one could not help but smile whenever Hugh did. His coldness when she had first seen him on that barge that morning had been particularly distressing.

Hugh Duclair seemed to have a strange effect on her these days. She felt fluttery when he was close by, most unlike her usual calm self. It had not always been so; when they were younger there was only ease between them. Aude had liked him then and she liked him still. Except…well, there was that inauspicious encounter early this morning. She had heartily disliked him when he had taken it upon himself to remove her baggage from the other barge!

Hugh lifted a brow. ‘Wise man, your brother.’

His voice was dry. Deep. Surely it had not always been as deep? And his mouth—when had that begun to fascinate her? Hugh had a full lower lip which hinted at a sensual nature; his upper lip had a slight dip in the centre. On his cheeks there was the slight shadow of an incipient beard. Heavens! Why ever was she examining Hugh like this? A kiss. What would his kiss be like? It was an extraordinarily compelling thought, it would not be pushed to one side. She would enjoy Hugh’s kiss…

Jerking her gaze away, Aude stared at a tree past Hugh’s shoulder, painfully conscious that her eyes wanted to linger on his face, to study that nose, so strong and straight, to memorise the exact curve of those high cheekbones. Her eyes wanted to learn his features in a way that was new to her. It was extremely unsettling, not unpleasant exactly, but deeply unsettling.

Fond though Aude had been of Martin, she had never felt the slightest inclination to learn his features; her eyes had not wanted to linger on him. This reaction to Hugh Duclair was baffling. It must be because she was so worried about him. The future of a man with a day to get out of the Duchy and only a small purse between him and penury could only be bleak. Fortunately, Hugh did not appear to have noticed either her interest or her confusion.

Some swallows were diving low over the river. As they swooped up past the white cliffs on the opposite bank, Aude forced herself to concentrate on the patterns they were tracing in the air.

‘I would not want you to court your brother’s displeasure on my account, particularly when he is in the right,’ Hugh said softly.

Slowly, as though he were fighting himself, he touched her hand. Tingles raced up her arm.

‘Take care, Aude. The river has taken a bite out of the path here, you and Edwige must watch your step.’

Sure enough, a section of the bank had broken away.

Hugh flashed a grin at her, revealing strong white teeth. ‘Wouldn’t want you falling in twice in a day. Aude, my banishment is not effective till midnight, so I think you may safely allow me to escort you one last time. In any case, there is no one else about.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Edouard need never know. If you manage to remain silent, you may truthfully tell him that you only spoke to me when absolutely necessary.’

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