Her Banished Lord. Carol Townend

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