Free Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 by The Promise Keeper

repercussions of his statement, he added pointedly, “If we enter the city now, they will kill your uncle.”
    “They will kill him regardless,” Elena’s voice broke on her bitter retort.
    “Yes,” Michel agreed, holding her tearful glance, “but I would rather not have his death on my hands.”
    “Please don’t send me back.  You know what they will to do to me.”
    Sensing, despite her desperate pleading, he was still undecided as to the matter of her fate, Elena hurried across the distance separating them and flung herself on her knees at his feet.  She clasped his hands in her own smaller ones and lifted tear-filled eyes to his.  “Please don’t send me back.  I beg of you. I will not be in your way here.  I can be useful.  Put me to work.  I do not know how to hunt or cook, but your men could teach me.  I can fetch clean water from the stream and help tend the horses.”
    Michel stared down into her dusk colored eyes and knew he was lost.  He met Amele’s amused if resigned glance over the maid’s head, before bending down to assist Elena to her feet.  “You may stay.”
    She let go of his hands and raised them to her face to cover her mouth.  He watched the relief flood her eyes and could only wonder at her terror of the past months, knowing her uncle would soon die and leave her completely at the mercy of the wolves that fought for the throne. 
    “You may have this tent.  Do not leave the camp without an escort.”  She nodded, as if unable to trust herself to speak the gratitude he saw shining in her eyes.  Michel cuffed her chin in an affectionate gesture as if she was one of his sisters and turned and motioned to the others that they would continue discussing their plans elsewhere.
    Michel was the last to file out of his now former tent. He glanced back in time to see Elena fall to her knees, her relief at her narrow escape obviously overcoming her ability to remain upright.  He watched her succumb to the deep sobs that wracked her slender frame, her back to the entrance to the tent, no doubt assuming she was safely alone to indulge in her emotional display. When he would have returned to comfort her, Amele’s hand on his arm stopped him and drew him away from the entrance.
    “You have done enough, my prince.  Leave the maid to her tears.  She would be embarrassed by your pity.”
    Michel reluctantly nodded his agreement and allowed himself to be led away from the sounds of the weeping girl.
     
    They resumed their discussion about the dilemma of what to do with their young guest in another tent hastily prepared for their use.
    One of the Caleinian noblemen gave his opinion of Elena’s circumstances in scathing tones. “She must have been kidnapped in her sleep from the castle.  I do not hesitate to lay the dastardly deed at Baron Raulf’s door.  It is obvious he means to force the lady into a hasty marriage to ensure he will ascend to the throne upon the death of the king.” 
    “But why force matters?  The king is near death, is he not?”  Michel countered.
    “Yes, or so it is rumored in the city.  But there are others besides Raulf who will contend for the throne.  If Lady Elena preferred one of the other challengers as her husband it would present a big obstacle to Raulf’s plans for a seamless coup.”
    “The girl is too young to wed.”  Michel was adamant in his conviction.  Why he doubted Elena was even his sister Rhiann’s age, and she was barely six and ten when she was forced to wed the new lord of their father’s estates.
    “Under normal circumstances that is true, but the circumstances are hardly normal, and the child is close enough to maturity that there is every expectation she will wed the future king, sooner rather than later.”
    “As long as the king lives, she cannot be legally wed without his consent,” Michel persisted.
    “True enough, but once the deed is done and the marriage consummated who is going to contest its