Jeopardy
Anna Markland
JEOPARDY
THE MONTBRYCE LEGACY
ANNIVERSARY EDITION
BOOK 10
By
ANNA MARKLAND
Copyright © 2014, 2019 by Anna Markland
COVER ART BY DAR ALBERT
Jeopardy by Anna Markland
Book Ten, The Montbryce Legacy, Anniversary Edition
© 2014, 2019 Anna Markland
www.annamarkland.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
For permissions contact: anna@annamarkland.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
What Readers Are Saying
More Anna Markland
Prisoners
Stages
Opposing Sides
Latitude
Nursery
Laurent
Allegiance
Marguerite
Playing Soule
Tell Him I've Gone To Bed
You Are Their Mother
Decisions
Getting Away
Bayeux
Epiphany
Addlebrained
I Can Protect You
An Oath Forsworn
Speech
Pledging
Passion Shared
Travesty
The One Man
Fairy Dust
Agony
Token
Glee
Lynx
Pyre
To Caen
Secret Weapon
Lix Loves Ye
Facing The Inevitable
Descent Into Hell
A Changed Man
Queen Of The Mud Mound
Bowshot
Silver-Haired Angel
Feast
Bearing Fruit
Epilogue
About Anna
What Readers Are Saying
“This story is as satisfying as an imagined goblet of Montbryce apple brandy. I loved all the tie-in's to the previous tomes. Caedmon and Ronan were so special that it is a treasure to have them referred to with such reverence...and to revisit Robert's incarceration, even after his death, to bring his family into harmony, well it certainly would have pleased all the forebears. I loved the addition of the canine hero. I'm very greedy when it comes to this family. Ms. Markland must be getting accustomed to all the plaudits coming her way...but she is a most gifted writer and I will read whatever she publishes until these eyes fail and then look for them in Braille.” Karen W.
Our ancestors are totally essential to our every waking moment, although most of us don't even have the faintest idea about their lives, their trials, their hardships or challenges.
~Annie Lennox
For my Elaine, with love.
More Anna Markland
The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018-2019)
I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen
II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla
III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta
IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni
V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina
VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys
VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise
VIII Crescendo—Izzy & Farah
IX Infidelity—Gallien & Peridotte
X Jeopardy—Alexandre & Elayne
The Montbryce Legacy First Edition (2011-2014)
Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter
Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana
Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider
Sinful Passions—Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan
Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families
The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn
The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja
The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith
Novellas
Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby
Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine
Banished—Sigmar & Audra
Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne
Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine
The Marauder—Santiago & Valentina
Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)
Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret
Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte
Book III Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora
Book IV Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea
The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)
Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt
Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca
Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara
Myth & Mystery
The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn
Clash of the Tartans
Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona
Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel
Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla
The House of Pendray
Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)
Kingslayer’s Daughter—Munro & Sarah
Highland Jewel—Garnet & Jewel
Highland Rising—Gray & Faith
Link to Amazon page
Prisoners
Montbryce Castle, Normandie, August 1136 AD
“THE PRISONERS ARE HERE, milord Comte.”
The crowd of villagers, men-at-arms and castle-folk gathered in the cavernous Great Hall of Montbryce gradually quieted as Steward Bonhomme awaited his master’s response.
Alexandre de Montbryce shifted his weight in the lord’s chair, the drumming of his fingers on the elaborately carved arms the only sound in the immense chamber.
“They are hostages, Bonhomme, not prisoners,” he said with more belligerence than he intended. His rebuke echoed off the stone columns, disappearing into the rafters.
Seated at Alex’s right hand, his younger brother sucked in a breath, scratching his head.
Were it possible, Alex would cede his title to Romain. Being the Comte de Montbryce, chieftain of one of the wealthiest and most powerful Norman clans with extensive holdings in England and Normandie was a responsibility he’d never wanted. But their parents would turn over in their tomb if Alex denied his heritage.
He’d done what he could, insisting Romain share the decisions and responsibilities. His reluctant brother would become the next Comte de Montbryce. They’d argued many times over Alex’s insistence he would never marry. He could only hope the philandering Romain would settle down and wed a suitable bride before the day of Alex’s death dawned.
He and his siblings were very different in temperament despite sharing a strong resemblance.
Hands fisted at his sides, Bonhomme reddened, visibly embarrassed by the unusual criticism from his master. He bowed again. “
Your pardon, milord.”
Alex wished he could take back the harsh words. The Montbryces were known as a noble and honorable family who treated their serfs and servants well. Successive Bonhommes had served them for four generations. But his resentment refused to release him. “Fetch them,” he commanded.
He turned to Romain as Bonhomme left the hall, the heavy oaken doors closing with an ominous thud. “Montbryce Castle will not serve as a prison as long as I am comte.”
“I understand, Alex. However, was it necessary to embarrass Bonhomme in front of others?”
Alex stared up at the banners wafting in the rafters, many of which had hung there since his grandmother had plied her needle.
The aroma of smoked ham served earlier at the midday luncheon still hung in the air, though the tables and benches had been cleared away and the stone floor swept.
He wished he’d been there, nigh on three score and ten years ago, when his great grandfather had entertained Duke William of Normandie a few months before his resounding victory at Hastings. It was in this historic place that the future Conqueror had appointed Alex’s grandfather to supervise the preparation of the fleet that would sail to England.
Alex had known no other home but this impressive castle, deserving of its reputation as one of the finest in Normandie. He loved every time-worn stone and was adamant it would not be used as a prison in furtherance of the political ambitions of a would-be queen.
Though Romain was right about his harsh words to Bonhomme, the thought of unjustly depriving anyone of their freedom, especially a child, knotted Alex’s gut. Every son and daughter of the recently deceased Robert de Montbryce understood and shared Alex’s turmoil. Many years ago, against all odds, their father had survived a cruel solitary confinement at the hands of the Duke of Normandie. Alex had come into the world during his father’s captivity.
He dragged his thoughts back from the memories of his early years with a father struggling to recover from his ordeal—a man he feared and barely knew. “I’ll speak to Bonhomme later. He’ll understand. Remind me, what are the hostages’ names?”
Romain rolled his eyes. “Henry and Claricia.”
Both doors to the hall creaked open. Bonhomme ushered in the hostages, grandchildren of King David of Scotland. They’d been handed over to Comte Geoffrey of Anjou and his wife Maud as a token of good faith to guarantee Scottish support. Maud had requested they be kept at Montbryce.
Alex had known they were children, but hadn’t expected a boy and a girl so alike in appearance they could be twins.
A murmur of delight rippled through the hall at the sight of the fair-haired enfants, but it ceased gradually as the clink and drag of chains echoed off the stone floor. Alex had been led to believe the hostages were at least fifteen years of age. Henry and Claricia Dunkeld couldn’t be more than seven or eight. They’d been chained together, wrists manacled, ankles shackled.
Anger surged up his throat. He leapt to his feet. “Why in the name of all the saints are they in irons? Remove their bonds at once.”
Murmurs of agreement with his fury rippled through the crowd of onlookers.
A soldier wearing the devise of Comte Geoffrey shuffled forward, a large key in hand. Alex struggled to control the urge to strangle him with his bare hands as the chains clunked to the floor and the man gathered them up. “How long have these children been manacled?”
“Since they arrived in this land, milord,” a loud female voice replied.
Caught off guard by the undisguised resentment in the speaker’s words, he glanced up sharply and for the first time noticed the young woman who now gripped the hand of each twin. Wisps of flame-red hair escaped a checkered shawl of brown and grey covering her head. Freckles dotted her nose. High cheekbones and a proud chin added nobility to a woman in servant’s garb. Her fresh beauty stunned him. He’d never journeyed to Scotland, but easily conjured a vision of her galloping across wild moorlands on a white horse, her hair a ribbon of red whipped by the wind.
She stared at him defiantly for long moments, rendering him speechless, though he doubted she would reach his shoulder if they stood side by side—an inexplicably appealing notion.
At her nod, the royal infants made their bow and curtsey to Alex. It was a commendable effort considering their age and condition, though the woman kept hold of their hands, providing an anchor. They flushed at the barely discernible smile she bestowed when they glanced up for her approval.
Alex had a peculiar urge to bask in the glow of her smile, but it quickly disappeared when she looked back at him. Though he understood it, he was strangely distressed by the hatred evident in her gaze. She was nursemaid to hostages and thus deprived of freedom. Geoffrey had cruelly ordered her small charges manacled for some ridiculous reason. She was far from her homeland, and probably not by choice. She was a servant—yet hadn’t offered even a perfunctory curtsey.
Alex had long ago accepted he was destined to live a solitary life. He’d always been the odd one out in the family. He and his father had never been close. Robert de Montbryce’s forced absence at Alex’s birth seemed to form an invisible wall between them. It had taken years for Robert to regain his strength. Their mother had worried that her husband might never be the man he was before his imprisonment. As a child, Alex learned to be wary of his father’s sudden changes of mood, but he never understood why his sire felt guilty about the time they’d lost.
Now Robert de Montbryce’s body lay alongside his beloved Dorianne in the castle’s crypt. The intrigues surrounding the struggle for the throne following King Henry’s death in December had been too much for his health, already weakened by a racking cough.
Resentful of the constant tutelage when his father was alive, Alex was grateful now for the knowledge and guidance passed on to him. Though he and his brothers disagreed about who should now sit on the throne of the English, he always assured them of his intention to emulate the three generations of his ancestors who had fulfilled the job with honor and dignity.
But he had refused to bow to the insistence he marry, and now it was too late. At a score and twelve years of age, he had become resigned to his bachelor life.
He had remained celibate throughout the half year of intrigue and conflict that had swept Normandie as King Stephen and Empress Maud vied for the throne of England after King Henry’s death.
Celibacy hadn’t been a hardship. Now, astonishingly, a discourteous servant in drab clothing, albeit a stunningly beautiful redhead, had caused his body to respond in a way he’d not experienced in many a year.
Without much effort, a servant had taken control of this gathering that should have seen her quaking with fear.
He stepped down from the dais, glad he’d worn a long tunic. By rights he should reprimand the woman for her insubordination, but the defiance in her green eyes gave him pause. Perhaps in Scotland a nursemaid was given more leeway.
He nodded to Henry Dunkeld. The lad was, after all, a possible heir to the Scottish throne. “Welcome to you, Henry, and to your sister. I am Comte Alexandre de Montbryce.”
He turned to Romain, now standing at his side. “I present my brother, Romain de Montbryce.”
“Mes seigneurs,” Henry murmured, his eyes fixed on the stone floor. Claricia gazed from Alex to Romain and back, tears welling, her free hand twisted in the fabric of her dress.
He was confident the nursemaid would not be fluent in his language, though her initial outburst had been in Norman French. Nervous the children might catch what he was saying, he shielded his mouth with his hand as he turned to Romain. “For an infant to be taken from her home and her parents and brought as a hostage in chains to a faraway land is intolerable. No wonder the nursemaid is angry.”
Romain stroked his chin, a bemused look on his face. “Angry, but beautiful.”
Alex glared, irrational jealousy seething in his gut. Though they were sometimes mistaken for twins, women were drawn to Romain’s cheerfulness and charm. “Not with a foreign hostag
e, brother.”
Romain winked, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. “Pity, but I’ll heed your wishes.”
He and his brother were tall and must seem like giants looming over these two infants. Alex hunkered down next to Claricia, which only increased the turmoil at his groin. “Demoiselle, please introduce your nursemaid.”
The child stared at him, her chin quivering, leading him to think perhaps she didn’t speak his language. He stood, concerned his attempt at closeness had intimidated her.
The nursemaid bent to whisper something to the child in a language he supposed was Gaelic. The shawl slipped off her head, revealing a glorious cascade of thick, red hair. His breath caught in his throat.
The woman quickly replaced the shawl, her blush the first chink in the armored mantle of composure.
Alex licked his dry lips, wishing he could apply his tongue to the nipples that pouted against the thin fabric of her bliaut as she raised her arms to secure the shawl. He wasn’t sure what had happened. All he could think of was taking her to his bed.
Claricia murmured, “Mon seigneur, I present my nursemaid—” She looked imploringly at the woman holding her hand.