Lord of My Heart Read Free

“There’ll be spoils if it comes to war. The duke owes us something.”
    Gilbert scowled at him. “We do our duty to our liege for our soul’s sake, not for gain.”
    “Some earthly rewards wouldn’t come amiss. We’ve been loyal to the duke for decades, and what good has it done us?”
    “But why haven’t the English accepted Duke William?” Madeleine interrupted, wondering if they bickered their way over the battlefields of Europe . “He has the promise of the crown, hasn’t he?”
    Marc snorted. “If I were English I wouldn’t accept a foreign usurper. And all the better for us.”
    Gilbert angrily rejected the word “usurper,” and they were at it again. Madeleine sighed. She didn’t like her brother’s taste for war, but she knew there was little option for a family brought to the brink of poverty by the troubled time. And greater prosperity could work to her advantage.
    Haute Vironge lay in the Vexin, the territory endlessly contested between France and Normandy , and it had suffered over the last decade. Gilbert had been a faithful vassal to Duke William during his struggle for his land, and in return the family received benefits from the duke as often as he was able to provide them.
    Madeleine’s acceptance at the Abbaye, which had been founded by the duke and duchess themselves, had been one such benefit. It was doubtless true that if spoils of war were to become available in England , the duke would pass some of them to the men of Haute Vironge.
    The convent bell rang for nones, and Madeleine rose to her feet. The two men broke off their squabble.
    “Aye,” said Lord Gilbert, not quite hiding his relief. “It’s time for us to go.” He laid a hand on his daughter’s head. “Pray for us, daughter. You’ll be a full Bride of Christ soon, I daresay.”
    As the two men picked up their fur-lined cloaks, Madeleine grasped her courage. “Father!”
    He turned. “Aye?”
    She could feel her heart racing, and her mouth was suddenly dry. “Father ... is there any way I can not take my vows?”
    He frowned at her. “What are you saying?”
    Madeleine cast a frantic look at her brother, but he was only curious. “I ... I am not sure I am meant to be a Bride of Christ.”
    Lord Gilbert’s brows lowered yet more. “What? If you’d been left at home and I brought a man for you, you’d marry him at my word. This is no different. Your mother sent you to take the veil and pray for us all, and here you are.”
    Madeleine fought back weak tears. “But . . . but shouldn’t I feel something, Father?”
    He made a growling noise. “You’re feeling soft clothes against your body and good food in your belly. Be thankful.” But then his expression eased. “You’re pledged here, Maddy. It’d take more money than we have to buy you out, and then what? There’d be poor pickings when it came to husbands. We’re not rich and powerful. Perhaps,” he added without conviction, “if there’s fighting in England and spoils . . .”
    Madeleine cast an appeal at her brother, who had once been such a hero to her. He shrugged. “I wouldn’t like to be a monk, but it’s different for a woman. The sort of husband we could attract these days you’d be better off without.”
    “But I wouldn’t mind just staying home and looking after you both,” Madeleine protested.
    “Staying home?” said Gilbert. “Maddy, in the five years since you came here, Haute Vironge has become a ruin. It’s in the middle of a battlefield.”
    The ache in Madeleine’s chest threatened to consume her. “I have no home?” she whispered.
    “You have a home here,” he countered. “A finer one than you could ever have expected except for the duke’s bounty. The abbess is very pleased with you. You’re a regular scholar, it would appear, all set to be a healer. Who knows? One day you could even become abbess yourself.”
    He was trying so hard to paint a good picture, and every word he said was true. Madeleine managed to