It had been a long, witless flight. What had she thought to accomplish by fleeing the keep so ignominiously? she wondered.
She sat down on an outcropping of stone near the cavern entrance and breathed deeply to recover from her wild run. She was disheveled and exhausted. The circlet that bound her hair had slipped to the side. Wispy red tendrils blew lightly about her cheeks. Her soft black leather shoes were scuffed. The skirts of her new gown were stained with dirt.
She had been so certain that, once his temper had cooled, Hugh would comprehend why she had gone to the rescue of Rivenhall. So certain that he would forgive her. He was a man of keen intelligence, after all, not a brute of a man as was Eduard of Lockton.
On the other hand, Hugh was not known as Relentless for naught, she reminded herself. Those who knew him maintained that nothing could alter his course once he had determined upon it. And he had been determined upon revenge since the day of his birth.
There was a great heaviness in Alice's heart. Her normally optimistic outlook had turned to a painful and quite unfamiliar mood of deep gloom. She was so accustomed to planning for the future that it came as a shock to realize that that future might well be empty.
She gazed out over the landscape of Scarcliffe and wondered morosely how she could marry a man who had no heart.
Mayhap it was time to reconsider a life within the calm, cloistered walls of the convent.
Mayhap it was time to abandon her fledgling dreams of love.
It was strange to realize that until she had met Hugh, she had never even been tempted to dream such dreams.
Alice tried to force herself to think calmly and logically about the situation. She was not yet wed. There was still time to escape the betrothal.
She could force Hugh to honor his portion of the bargain they had made. When all was said and done, he was a man who could be counted upon to abide by his word of honor. She'd had ample evidence of that last night at Rivenhall. He had stood by his oath to her even though it had cost him his vengeance.
Of course there was always the possibility that he would be only too happy to dissolve the betrothal, she thought bleakly. She had proven to be a good deal more inconvenient than even Hugh had anticipated.
The thought brought the tears to her eyes again. She started to dash them away with the sleeve of her gown, hesitated, and then succumbed to the urge to cry. She lowered her head down onto her folded arms and gave herself up to the storm of emotion that swept over her.
She had never felt so alone in her life.
It was a long time before the floodtide of feeling exhausted itself. Alice eventually ceased sobbing and sat quietly, her head pillowed on her arms, until she grew calm once more.
Then she embarked upon a series of short, silent, bracing lectures.
Nothing was ever resolved with tears, she reminded herself. One could not waste time regretting the past. In truth, even if she had it to do over again, she would not alter yesterday's events. She could not have turned her back on young Reginald and Emma.
She had been so certain that Hugh would understand, so sure that he would have done as she had done.
Clearly she had been mistaken in her judgment of the dark legend that was Hugh.
One had to put one's mistakes behind one. It was time to go forward. If she had learned naught else in her life, it was that a woman had to be strong if she wished to remain in control of her own destiny.
The difficulty she faced now lay in the fact that she was dealing with a man who had learned the same hard lesson.
She wiped her eyes with the folds of her skirts, drew a deep, steadying breath, and slowly raised her head.
The first thing she saw was Hugh.
He leaned casually against the wall of the cavern, his thumbs hooked in his leather sword belt. His expression was unreadable.
"You certainly contrived to shock the priest," he said blandly. "I do not believe that he has ever before witnessed such an entertainment at dinner."
Alice's stomach clenched. "How long have you been standing there spying on me, sir? I did not hear you arrive."
"I know. You were well occupied with your tears."
Alice looked away from his hard, implacable face. "Have you come to taunt me further? If so, I must warn you that I am in no mood for more battle."
"What a strange notion. I have never known you to weary of combat, madam."
She glowered at him furiously. "By the Saints, Hugh, I have had enough."
"If the truth be known, so have I."
The wry tone of his voice disconcerted her. She instantly quashed the spark of hope that leaped within her. "Have you come to apologize, my lord?"
He smiled faintly. "Do not press your luck too far, Alice."
"Nay, of course you did not come here for such a logical, sensible reason. Well, my lord, why did you follow me then, if not to make amends?"
"I told you that you were not to come here to the caves alone."
He was avoiding the issue, she thought, surprised. That was most unlike Hugh.
"Aye, so you did. The day you gave me your ring." She glanced down at the broad onyx stone that weighed heavily on her thumb. Another wave of sadness washed over her. "But surely this transgression pales into insignificance compared with my astounding sins of yesterday," she muttered.
"Aye. It does."
She wished she could tell what he was thinking. His mood was indecipherable. He did not appear especially furious, however. It struck her that Hugh himself may not have been certain of his own feelings. The flicker of hope resurged.
"Have you come to tell me that you wish to break our betrothal contract?" she asked coolly.
"Will you pursue me through the courts if I do choose to sever it?"
She bristled. "Don't be ridiculous. We made a bargain, if you will recall."
"Aye." Hugh straightened and came away from the wall. He reached down, grasped her by the shoulders, and lifted her gently to her feet. "You would not sue me for breach of promise, would you?"
"Nay, my lord."
"In fact, you would be only too glad to escape into a convent. Is that not so?"
She stiffened. "My lord, I know that you are very angry about what I did, but I would have you know—"
"Hush." Hugh's eyes gleamed. "We will not speak again of what happened yesterday."
She blinked. "We won't?"
"After much contemplation I have been forced to conclude that what occurred yesterday at Rivenhall was not your fault."
"It wasn't?"
"Nay." He dropped his hands from her shoulders. "It was my fault and mine alone."
"It was?" Alice felt as though she had stepped through a magical window only to emerge into a strange land where the normal logic of the world was slightly askew.
"Aye." Hugh folded his arms across his broad chest. "I did not set clear limits on the authority I granted to you. I did not anticipate all possible situations. I did not make allowance for your soft heart."
"You could hardly have done that, sir." Alice began to feel quite waspish. "Given the fact that you do not seem to know what it is to possess a heart. And you may as well know that even if you had expressly forbidden me to ride to Rivenhall's defense, I would have disobeyed you."
Hugh smiled faintly. "You do not know when to stop, do you, Alice? And to think the world calls me Relentless. You could give me lessons in the art."
"I still maintain, my lord, that if you had been here to see young Reginald plead for help, even the stone you use in place of a heart would have melted."
"Unlikely. I would have kept my eye on the ultimate goal."
"Sir, that boy is your blood kin, whether you like it or not. Furthermore, he and his mother had nothing to do with what happened in the past. None of you living today had anything to do with it. Let the sins of the past rest."