“How is Alys?” Eglantine asked belatedly, refusing to look into the darkness behind her, to wonder whether Duncan would return.
Surely he could not be gone for good?
Surely she could not have lost him in truth?
Eglantine hated that she did not know. She would never have anticipated that his conviction to win her had any limit, but the expression before he strode away had been eloquent.
And the dread she had felt of showing her weakness was a mere shadow compared to the consuming fear that she would never see Duncan MacLaren again.
Burke smiled, the expression making him look much younger and less stern. “Alys is well enough, though she will have my hide if I am not home before our second child is due.” He did not appear too troubled about this threat and Eglantine forced a smile in turn.
“Your son must be getting tall,” she said, feeling ’twas a hopelessly inane comment but knowing she should make conversation with her guest.
Burke set his chalice aside and leaned forward, propping his elbows upon his knees. “Eglantine, once upon a time, I told you of the power of the love that can blossom between a man and a woman.”
“Aye, you told me of Alys.”
“Aye, I hoped to inspire you to seek better for yourself than what you had clearly been granted with Robert.” Exasperation crossed his features. “You have always been so practical, Eglantine. I could not believe when I heard that you were wedded to Theobald de Mayneris, for all the world knew that he was a worthless rogue.” Burke’s eyes narrowed. “I thought, as many others likely did, that you had reformed him, that you typically had wrought gold from dross.”
Eglantine shook her head and hugged Esmeraude closer. “Not I.”
“Nay, I know that now.” Burke watched her closely. “He used you sorely, Eglantine, and I fear that my counsel led you astray.”
“Nay, Burke. ’Twas naught but my own poor judgment at root.”
But the knight shook his head and spoke with resolve. “Nay, Eglantine. I have no doubt that Theobald set deliberately to deceive you and, similarly, I would wager that he insisted that you wed quickly. Even he would have discerned that you could not be fooled for long.”
Eglantine managed a thin smile. “It matters little, now that he is gone.”
Burke shook his head. “Nay, it matters greatly if you measure all men against Theobald’s shortfalls.”
Eglantine caught her breath. Should she have admitted the truth and told Duncan what he desired to hear?
Would he have stayed by her side if she had? Would he have continued to love her as he had done thus far?
Was he as different from Theobald in this one way as in all others?
Burke reached to wipe the last of Esmeraude’s tears, then met Eglantine’s gaze steadily. “You have always been a woman of good sense, Eglantine. Never would I have imagined that a child of two summers would show more astute judgment than you.”
“I have no good instincts when it comes to men,” she argued weakly. “’Twas that at root of my match with Theobald.”
Burke arched a brow. “Aye? And what is your instinct in this moment?”
Eglantine looked at her child. She knew with sudden clarity that she could not let Duncan leave her side. She loved him, beyond reason and belief, and could not imagine awakening without him at her side.
“I could lose him,” she whispered, the words sending a chill down her spine.
Burke nodded impatiently. “If you have not already. That was a man with tolerance expired, if ever I have seen one. What does your heart tell you to do, Eglantine?”
She swallowed. “To follow Duncan. To persuade him to listen.” She smiled uncertainly. “To confess my love.”
Burke smiled and lifted Esmeraude from her arms. “As I said, Eglantine, you have always been a woman of splendid good sense.”
Esmeraude chose that moment to wail anew and Eglantine was torn between the new bond forged between they two and her desire to chase Duncan.
But Burke bounced Esmeraude on his knee with the confidence of a man who had soothed toddlers before. “Esmeraude, if your mother goes to fetch Duncan, would you be so kind as to wait with me?”
The little girl considered him in silence, sucking her thumb with rare diligence. Though Eglantine wished the child would hasten her choice, Burke seemed to understand her need for reassurance.
“’Tis the strangest thing, Esmeraude, but I have a son a bit bigger than you. On this journey, I miss him terribly.” He leaned closer to confide this and Eglantine almost laughed to see Esmeraude respond so predictably to his charm.
She preened coyly and Burke smiled. “Indeed, there is a tale I always tell him in the evening, though I have not recounted it for over a month. I fear I might forget and oh, he would be sorely disappointed in me.” Burke snapped his fingers as though struck by a thought. “Might I tell it to you instead? Would you listen and tell me whether it still seems a good tale?”
Esmeraude’s features lit up and she eyed the knight expectantly. “Tell me a story. Now.” She did not cuddle close to him as she did with Duncan, but she clearly was contented enough to remain.
“Oh, Burke, I thank you for this.” Eglantine’s hands rose to her hair and she realized she was in no state to plead with a man to remain forever by her side.
“Go,” Burke insisted, then he smiled with a confidence Eglantine was far from feeling. “Duncan will see naught but the stars in your eyes.”
* * *
Eglantine ran first to the shore where the boats were pulled up and could not discern whether they all were there or not. She scanned the sea, cursing the lack of a moon, but could not tell whether a man had rowed away recently or not.
But this accomplished naught!
She pushed her fingertips to her temples and willed herself to think. Where would Duncan go?
To the great rock of his forebears. No other place would do.
Unless he had left completely. Eglantine’s fear lent speed to her steps and she ran towards the rock. She cursed the mist that hid it from her view. She would cut through the camp and thus save time, though she would have to watch her step. She lunged into the shadows between the tents, praying that she would arrive in time.
Then a woman screamed, the sound cut off too soon.
Jacqueline! Eglantine’s footsteps faltered, for only one thing could have prompted her tranquil daughter to scream.
Or more accurately, one person. God in heaven, but Burke had led Reynaud directly here. Again she was torn between duty and desire, but there was no choice. She had to save her daughter, whatever the cost to herself.
Eglantine crept toward the three silken tents, grateful for the sea’s waves breaking on the rocks behind her. It would cover the sound of her approach. She hugged the shadows, her heart in her mouth, and eased her way closer, one careful step at a time.
She halted in view of the entry to Jacqueline’s tent. A huge man sat there, cleaning his nails with his dagger. His familiar bulk was far from reassuring, for the presence of Reynaud’s squire confirmed Reynaud’s presence.
There was no doubt that this one’s master was inside the tent. Who knew what he had already done, or what Jacqueline had suffered! Eglantine fought her desire to hasten and forced herself to proceed one careful step at a time.
The squire looked bored, a remarkable feat for one so slow of wit as this one. Only at such proximity could Eglantine hear the muted sounds of struggle and she feared what her daughter endured.
She crouched while she thought, and her hand closed around a rock roughly the shape and size of a goose egg. She gauged the distance to the squire as she weighed the stone in her hand. Eglantine deliberately recalled all the times she had skipped stones with Guillaume at Crevy and bested both him and Burke.
To hesitate was to be lost in such a moment. She stood up and flung the stone at the squire’s brow.
It hit him square between the eyes. He made a small grunt at the impact, then fell bone
lessly forward.
’Twas enough for Eglantine! She raced toward the tent, stepped hesitantly around the squire, then helped herself to the short dagger he no longer used. She plunged it into the back of her belt, squared her shoulders and stepped regally into the tent.
“Good evening, Reynaud.”
The knight started and turned, his move revealing his grip upon Jacqueline.
To Eglantine’s immense relief, Jacqueline’s skirts were only about her knees. Her kirtle was torn at the breast but Reynaud was still fully garbed. Her daughter was clearly terrified, but as yet unhurt.
Eglantine intended to keep matters that way.
She smiled at the old knight’s surprise. “How did you come to be here, Reynaud, without first enjoying the hospitality of our board? Surely you are hungered after your long journey.”
Reynaud’s smile flashed. “Dame Fortune smiled upon me and delivered my rightful due into my own hands. But three silk tents, three tents for three noblewomen. I had only just entered the first when this little bird flew directly to me.” His smile faded. “And where is my squire?”
Eglantine feigned dismay. “He seems to have fallen ill, for he lies in a faint outside the tent.”
The knight’s eyes narrowed. The pair stared at each other, then Reynaud shrugged. “If you think your presence will persuade me to halt, you are wrong, Eglantine. I have no trouble with an audience.”
In a lightning gesture, he folded Jacqueline’s arms beneath her, behind her waist, then sat astride her once more. She had time to utter a cry of protest and no more before his hand was once again on her mouth. He now had a free hand which he used to tear the front of her kirtle open further, baring her breasts to view. Jacqueline’s eyes widened in fear when his gloved hand closed over her bare flesh.
Eglantine wanted to kill him with her bare hands for abusing her child thus. She sauntered further into the tent, well aware of the weight of the blade hidden from his view. She forced her tone to remain conversational, though ’twas not easily done. “Surely, you would not taint your bride before your nuptials?”
“Surely, it matters little. And this way, I will ensure that you can do naught else with the girl but wed her to me.”
“But ’tis not her fault we are here!”
Reynaud glanced up. “What is this?”
Eglantine fabricated the tale as she went, wishing she had half of Duncan’s skill. “Jacqueline wanted to wed you, indeed she wanted to wed you even before Theobald fell ill. But she is such a prize that I wagered we could win more coin for her hand. Then I needed funds after Theobald’s death, for he left me with naught. My brother would not see fit to demand more coin from you, but I was persuaded another might pay more for Jacqueline’s charms.”
She held his suspicious gaze, willing him to believe her lie. “I stole her away from you, Reynaud, though the girl desired naught but to do her duty. Your argument is with me alone.”
“I will not pay more.”
“Nor will any other, as I learned to my distress. All this trouble for naught.” Eglantine shrugged. “Of course, Jacqueline will wed you, as she desired to do so all along. Do not punish the child for the sins of the mother.”
Reynaud shook his head stubbornly. “This cannot be so. She fought me this night, she fights me even now. You lie!”
“Nay, you frighten her. She is virginal, Reynaud, and unaccustomed to the needs of men. She has been sheltered all these years and I failed to tell her of her marital due as yet. You have startled her, no more than that.”
Reynaud’s gaze slipped over her and Eglantine had a bold idea. She smiled and lifted one hand to the lace at the neck of her kirtle.
She loosed it slowly. “A virgin suits for a marriage bed and naught else,” she said quietly. “Duty and the securing of property is one matter, while pleasure is quite another. I would wager you have been long without a woman, Reynaud, for you must ridden hard from France’s shores.”
Eglantine took a step closer and pulled the lace free with a flick of her wrist. “I am no virgin, Reynaud, but I know how a man would be pleasured. You have been sorely inconvenienced, and this at my behest.” Eglantine parted her kirtle and untied her chemise, noting how he stared at the shadow of her breasts visible through her chemise. She was but an arm’s length away from him, nigh close enough to strike.
“Let me make amends to you. Take the toll for your inconvenience from me, for I alone am responsible for it,” she invited huskily. “And leave the taking of Jacqueline for your nuptial bed.”
Reynaud slowly smiled. “You always were a temptress, Eglantine. I knew you desired me when you were Robert’s bride.” He looked down at Jacqueline, his smile broadening. Eglantine had only a moment to believe he truly would fall for her ruse before he proved her wrong.
“Perhaps I shall have the both of you this night.”
He lunged for Eglantine, but she was prepared for him. She pulled his squire’s dagger from the back of her belt and drove it at Reynaud’s eyes. He cried out and snatched at her wrists. To her dismay, Eglantine was no match for his strength and skill. The blade fell harmlessly to the ground, but Eglantine stepped back, deliberately drawing him away from her daughter.
She saw the blur of Jacqueline rolling from the bed, and knew the girl could not pass them without attracting Reynaud’s ire. To her relief, Jacqueline caught up the blade and darted back over the bed. Eglantine heard the silk cut as Reynaud twisted her arms behind her back. She knew her daughter was safe when his hand closed cruelly over her breast.
And he knew it as well.
“Bitch!” he muttered in her ear. “Now, you shall pay for your deception.”
But Eglantine did not care what he did to her. Her every thought was with Jacqueline, urging her daughter to flee as fast and as far as she was able. She had to draw this out as long as possible, to better grant her daughter time to escape.
Eglantine spared Reynaud knowing glance. “Robert always said you could only take a woman with haste,” she sneered. “I see he was not far wrong in that.”
Reynaud struck her across the face and she fell. But Eglantine rolled and propped herself up on her hands to survey him.
“A man like Robert, now, he could take a woman over and over until the very dawn.” She smiled. “Ah, he had such vigor. For a man his age, ’twas remarkable.”
“Robert died a decade my junior.”
“Ah, his youth must have been why the memory of his fortitude lingers long.” She mused as though she was not afraid. “I believe ’twas twenty times we took our pleasure one night. ’Twas then he told me of your haste. ’Twas true, Reynaud, I always lusted for you, but Robert’s tales tempered my desire.”
“You lie!” Reynaud stepped over her and gripped her chin, glaring down into her eyes. “But I shall take you twenty-one times all the same. You will remember me, Eglantine, not your dead Robert.” He smiled coldly. “Indeed, you may never sit easily again.”
* * *
Duncan knew he should not have left Eglantine in anger. He sat and glowered out to sea, irked beyond measure at her stubborn refusal to trust him, yet knowing he would return to her side like a moth dazzled by the flame. There was no question of him abandoning her, not before she spurned him in truth.
He should not have lost patience with her. He took a deep breath of the salt-tinged wind. He would walk and let his temper fade completely, then return to the gathering. With luck, she would be waiting for him. Duncan rose, cursing his own tendency to hope beyond expectation, then spun at the echo of running footsteps.
’Twas Jacqueline, her kirtle torn and her eyes wild. “Reynaud, ’tis Reynaud!” she cried, the name all too familiar. Duncan caught her when she might have stumbled, and she gasped for breath. “He attacked me but Maman heard him.”
“And she offered herself in your stead,” Duncan guessed, then swore with vigor when the girl nodded. “Where?”
“In my tent. His squire lies outside the door. I cut the silk at the back
and ran and ran and ran.” Jacqueline breathed heavily, her terror evident.
“You did well and I am glad you came to me.” Duncan drew her kirtle closed and she flushed crimson even as he led her back toward the camp. “Now, go to this Burke and do not leave his side until I return. He will defend you.”
“Nay, he brought Reynaud!”
“Nay, he came only to ensure you all were well. I would wager this one followed him.” Duncan held the girl’s gaze determinedly. “You have naught to fear from him, I swear it to you.”
She nodded grimly, looking very much her mother’s child. “Then I will go to him.” She brandished a blade beneath his nose. “But I shall keep this at hand. He might have lied to you, Duncan. Men oft do.”
Duncan escorted her as far as he dared, for time was of the essence. He watched Jacqueline step into the circle of firelight and make her way towards the knight.
He waited no longer than that. Duncan melted into the shadows, his anger rising as he heard Eglantine taunting another. She mocked the man’s prowess and Duncan winced at the sound of a blow falling.
But his Eglantine would do whatever was necessary to save her child. Duncan wished fiercely that one day he too might stand within the circle of his lady’s protectiveness, realized ’twas a quest worth any price of pursuit, then took his blade and slashed the silk from top to bottom.
He stepped into the tent, his blade at the ready, and glared at the old knight perched atop Eglantine. “I have come to cut out your heart, Reynaud de Charmonte,” he declared coldly, flicking a glance to his lady. A bruise stained on her face and her kirtle was torn to her waist. The pleasure that lit her eyes so startled Duncan that ’twas almost his undoing.
But he would have compense for that bruise.
The older man straightened, his expression turning grim. “Who are you?”
“I am Duncan MacLaren, chieftain of Clan MacQuarrie.”
Reynaud sneered, his gaze traveling over Duncan’s garb as he smoothed a hand over his own. “A mere savage!”
The Bride Quest II Boxed Set Page 33