He was gentle, and kind with his horses. Esmeraude liked that. She watched him move with easy grace and her heart thumped. Even if he did not believe in the merits of love, perhaps she could change his thinking.
He had, after all, pursued her. ’Twould seem the winning of her was more important to him than he would readily admit. And he did not seek her dowry, so what other reason might there be? ’Twas small encouragement, but ’twas all Esmeraude needed to convince her that she alone held the key to winning Bayard’s heart.
Bayard rubbed the steed’s ears and spoke to it, urging it to some feed, then brushed off his hands. He retrieved his cloak and returned to Esmeraude, his eyes gleaming.
“I had thought the best man for me would be one not even seeking a bride,” she said.
Bayard’s expression turned skeptical as he shook out his fur-lined cloak. “You seek a man already wed then?”
Esmeraude laughed. “Nay, but I desire a man who is not intent upon having a bride as one has other possessions.”
His smile made her tingle. “What of a man who sought a bride for the sake of necessity and tradition, but found a treasure instead?” Bayard wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, so that it swirled with a fine flourish. He then squatted down before her, his eyes bright.
“A treasure?”
“A lady of more wit and passion than anticipated, and a beauty as well.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm, his touch making Esmeraude’s pulse race. “A treasure most rare and one to be prized above all else. Not all wonders are found when they are sought. Indeed, I have heard it said that the marvels of life cannot be found if actively pursued.”
“You seem determined in your suit,” Esmeraude said coyly, hoping for a sweet confession to make this moment perfect.
Bayard leaned yet closer, the moonlight glinting upon his hair. His thumb ran across her knuckles in a caress that made her mouth go dry. “Much has passed between us, Esmeraude, and a man of honor must do what is right by his lady fair. Though you left me, I knew ’twas due to a misunderstanding.”
“You knew I followed you,” Esmeraude guessed.
Bayard’s smile broadened. “A man with less training would never have heard your pursuit.” He kissed her palm. “You are most clever, my lady.”
Esmeraude’s pulse echoed in her throat. Oh, she had made a fine choice.
“’Tis true that I coaxed you closer apurpose.” Bayard regarded her warmly. “I heard that you had much affection for a tale, and it seemed a fitting way to see to your safety this night. ’Tis not fitting, Esmeraude, that even a lady upon an adventure should sleep alone and unprotected in the wilderness. As my intended, you are my responsibility and I would ensure your welfare for all our days and nights together.”
Esmeraude could think of naught to say to that. Indeed, she quite liked his protectiveness.
Bayard smiled and offered his hand. “Come hither, my Esmeraude,” he murmured, heat in his words. “And reward your faithful courtier with a kiss.”
Esmeraude could think of no finer way to seal their pledge. She moved into his embrace and touched her lips to Bayard’s, loving how possessively his mouth closed over her own. He drew them to their feet without breaking his kiss, then wrapped his cloak securely around her.
When he finally lifted his head, Esmeraude found herself breathless. “I thank you for showing kindness to Célie,” she said, wanting to acknowledge his courtesy. “I had hoped you would do so.”
“And your trust was not misplaced.” Bayard seemed to like that she had expected this of him. “’Twas she who confided your fondness for tales, for she confessed her own support for my pursuit of you.”
That pleased Esmeraude, for Célie knew her well and knew her objectives just as well. The maid’s endorsement of Bayard once she knew more of him only increased Esmeraude’s certainty in her choice. “Is that why you sing to me?” she teased, hoping again for a sweet confession.
“A man must do what he must to win a lady’s regard.” Then Bayard began to softly sing once more. Esmeraude sighed contentment, and leaned her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to his song and the thrum of his heartbeat.
Indeed, there was much of this man to love.
King Mark had need of a fair queen:
He desired a bride with eyes green;
Fair golden locks that fell like waves;
A face that might a man enslave.
He would have a bride true of heart,
Loyal, blessed with love stalwart.
This maid he would cherish and love;
This maid would bear his many sons.
He knew not where to find his match,
But he guessed who best to dispatch.
None other did he trust so well,
As that knight who with him did dwell.
“Tristran,” said the king “Hear my word:
You can see my sweet yearning cured.
You who are as brethren mine own,
Go find the maid to share my crown!
Spare no distance, turn from no foe,
I care not how far you must go,
But find a maid to hold my heart.
A beauty true, go now, depart!
Return to me with such a bride,
Worthy of sitting by my side,
And I shall see you lack for naught.
Your labors shall not be forgot.”
She could imagine that Bayard had been dispatched by his father to find his bride, just as the knight in the song had been dispatched by his liege lord. And Bayard’s father Burke was said to have been uncommonly diligent in pursuit of the lady who held his heart in thrall, the lady who had become his wife. Esmeraude had heard that tale more times than she could count.
Like father, like son. The thought made her smile.
Bayard kissed her lingeringly between the verses and she knew that this was the man of whom she had dreamed. Aye, he would follow her to the ends of Christendom to make her his own, just like a hero in a chanson.
But unlike lovers in a chanson, they had resolved their small misunderstanding, rather than losing all to some dire fate. Such foolishness made a better tale than a life. Aye, ’twas the mark of a good match to unravel such confusions.
Esmeraude thought it a good portent that Bayard was not so stubborn as to leave a matter be, and resolved to be as dutiful in this regard as he.
He smiled down at her and sang low.
Tristran rushed forth to do this deed.
He left that day to cross the sea,
Certain this maid would be best found,
Far afield, exotic and proud.
Waves cast him upon Ireland’s coast,
Where fearsome dragon made his roost.
What a terror that creature was!
His scales shone brightly like red glass,
His claws were fierce, his teeth yet more,
His breath was fire, his blows were sure.
He attacked Tristran landing there:
His bellow singed the knight’s fair hair!
But Tristran showed no fear at all,
He fought the beast at the town walls.
And all the town was there to see,
The savior knight brought by the sea.
He killed the beast before their eyes,
But the dying beast claimed a price.
In his last breath he bit the knight,
His poison felled Tristran that night.
Esmeraude gripped Bayard, fearing the outcome for the knight of his tale. The wind danced through the forest behind them, scattering twigs and rustling the branches. He smiled reassuringly at her.
The people cried and gnashed their teeth,
That Tristran should be trapped in sleep.
They carried him into the town,
And summoned healers of renown.
’Twas thus that Iseut first saw him,
Though Tristran’s fate did seem most grim.
She tended him better than all,
For her skill was not at all small.
And as he healed, Iseut could see,
That this man was wrought most finely.
She saw the notch within his blade,
But could not fulfill her pledge made.
She could not avenge her own kin,
Against a man so lacking sin,
That he would battle so for those,
Who could not defeat their own foes.
So well did Iseut tend the knight,
That he awoke in a fortnight.
As soon as he saw her visage,
Then he knew that she was the prize,
Sought by King Mark to be his bride.
And so he sought to win her hand,
For the king of a distant land.
“She healed him,” Esmeraude whispered.
“Aye, perhaps even with a kiss as potent as your own.” Bayard claimed another kiss, which Esmeraude was only too happy to grant him. ’Twas simply too wondrous to be courted like this, to be kissed within the shelter of his cloak and beneath a starry sky.
“Nay, ’twas with her love,” she insisted when they parted. “I am certain they were destined lovers.”
Bayard said naught to that but sang again, his gaze locked with her own.
Iseut’s parents liked well this thought,
Iseut herself objected naught.
So Tristran made plans to depart,
To escort damsel to King Mark.
Iseut’s mother had but one fear:
That her daughter find her spouse dear.
“Take this potion, child of my womb.
Guard it well and savor it soon,
Do so with your betrothed alone,
For it shall make his heart your own.
And your heart shall be held by him,
For it has this magic within.”
She sent, too, with Iseut a maid,
Trusted so well, name of Brangain.
Word sent King Mark that all was well,
The townsfolk waved the ship farewell.
Four souls sailed for distant Cornwall,
For there, too, was good Governal.
But on the seas, Brangain did err:
She poured the potion in her care,
For Tristran and Iseut, alas!
Not after Iseut’s nuptial mass.
So they two were sorely smitten,
With love that could not be hidden,
And forgetting full the king ahead,
Iseut took Tristran to her bed.
Bayard fell silent, though he arched a brow expectantly.
“Where would we go?” Esmeraude whispered, sparing a glance for the others in the clearing.
Bayard grinned wickedly. “What is amiss with this place?” he whispered, then swept her up into his arms. The generous width of his cloak enfolded them and Esmeraude curled closer to him. The echo of his heartbeat so close to her own and the warmth of him surrounding her made her forget the inclement weather.
His proximity made her forget all but him.
Bayard leaned closer and dropped his voice to a mischievous whisper. “Your maid will hardly be alarmed to find us together in the morn.”
’Twas true enough.
His hand slid beneath the hem of her skirts, his fingers making her gasp with delight. “Kiss me, Esmeraude. Let me taste you as you find your pleasure.”
Esmeraude felt suddenly shy, though the cloak hid his hands from view. “Here?” she asked, her voice higher than usual. She spared a glance for Célie. As a child, she had been convinced that her vigilant maid saw doings even in her sleep and even now, Esmeraude was not unpersuaded of that.
Bayard leaned closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I confess myself surprised by your modesty.” He feigned astonishment. “Is it possible that I have lured a demure maid, instead of my adventurous Esmeraude?”
Esmeraude laughed. “But what shall we tell them in the morn?”
He chuckled. “No less than the truth, which they already know. Come, lady mine, welcome me.”
His fingers slipped between her thighs again, but Esmeraude’s hands fell boldly to the knot of his chausses.
“Not that this night,” he whispered with a fleeting frown. “Not here.”
Esmeraude offered a wicked smile of her own. “Surely, sir, you do not suggest that I wed a man less adventurous than myself.” She untied the laces and slipped her hands around him, her touch silencing his protest before it had begun.
Bayard’s eyes shone, their hue bluer than blue. He gasped as Esmeraude straddled him, then he caught her buttocks in her hands and urged her closer. “Know, my Esmeraude, that you have need of naught this night but me,” he whispered, then kissed her fully.
Indeed, Esmeraude knew that she would have need of naught for all her days and nights than this knight.
Chapter Seven
That evening, there were those at Ceinn-beithe less content with their lot than Esmeraude and Bayard. Eglantine did not sleep, though she imagined that Duncan did. She tossed and turned restlessly, unable to think of anything beyond her youngest daughter virtually alone in the wild.
There had been little consolation in realizing that Esmeraude had fled to the King of the Isles. She had always had a faith in that man’s goodwill toward her. Eglantine knew that he cared only for his own advantage and feared the worst.
She sighed and rolled over again, trying to be silent yet unable to be still.
“There is naught to be achieved by fretting,” Duncan murmured, his words too clear for him to have been sleeping.
Eglantine propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him. Though their chamber was filled with shadows, she could see the gleam of his eyes. “We should have compelled her to wed someone, anyone! We should have seen to it that she was protected.”
“’Twould have broken her spirit, and truly, Esmeraude’s spirit is a rare marvel.”
“You cannot agree with what she has done!”
“Nay, I do not.” Duncan sat up and donned a chemise with impatient gestures, his brow furrowed. “But I recognize a matter in which I cannot interfere.”
“Cannot or will not? We might have sent men after her. You might have pursued her!”
“To what end?” ’Twas the closest they had come to an argument in years, with Eglantine’s accusation hanging between them. Duncan sighed. “Eglantine, fully six men lent chase, most of them knights. They will find her and ensure her welfare.”
Eglantine sighed in her turn, then rose from the bed. “If the King of the Isles does not make some trouble for her first.”
“Are you not reassured that Célie accompanied her?”
“Some. Are you not worried?”
Duncan smiled slightly. “I am nigh ill with the worrying, my love. And I sent two men to the king’s court, to ensure that Esmeraude arrived there safely. But beyond that, little can be done. We have guests aplenty, which precludes our own departure.”
Eglantine sighed and paced the chamber, well aware that her spouse’s watchful gaze followed her.
“The skill in raising children, I do believe, is in knowing when to save a child from falling and when to let her fall in the hope that she might learn aught of the world.”
Eglantine stared grimly at the ceiling, unpersuaded.
“Esmeraude is stubborn, as we both know,” Duncan said gently. “I do not think we could have built a prison strong enough to keep her from this course.”
“That is no excuse for doing naught.”
“We have not done naught. We have raised her to show sense and discipline, we have taught her to hunt, to sail, to ride a horse, to seek aid when she has need of it. We have instilled the best of what we know in her...”
“I am not content to hope for the best,” Eglantine snapped, turning upon her spouse. “You place too much credence in good fortune and good thinking! For the love of God, Esmeraude is so impetuous that she is capable of finding trouble in her own chamber!” She turned away from
Duncan’s considering glance and felt her tears rise.
“You cannot protect her forever, Eglantine,” he said softly.
“But I want to,” she whispered, and to her dismay, her tears broke at the admission. She caught her breath in a sob, trying to hide her own weakness, but Duncan knew her too well.
He crossed the room to catch her close, holding her fast against his chest. “She will be well, for she is clever. She is with Célie, a paragon of good sense. And she has half a dozen determined men pursuing her, each and every one of whom is noble in his objectives.”
“’Tis not enough!”
“’Tis all we have. There is naught else to be done now.”
“You could go after her!”
“She might not even be at the king’s court any longer. And she would not heed me even if she was, as we both know well.” Eglantine looked up and Duncan smiled ruefully. “Our Esmeraude is set upon adventure and there is nary an adventure to be found with one’s stepfather.” He gave her a shake, clearly guessing her next argument. “And even less with one’s own mother. Do you not recall what it is to be young and filled with the certainty of one’s own immortality?”
“I recall well enough that it is a lie.”
“She will not believe you until she discovers the truth of it herself.” Duncan kissed Eglantine’s brow. “We always knew that Esmeraude would pose a challenge, and we have more than sufficient experience that she will insist upon her own way alone. Should we retrieve her, even if ’twere possible, she would do this again, perhaps without Célie and a bevy of knights. We have done what could be done, now let us pray that all finds a good ending.”
Eglantine heaved a sigh and dried her tears. “We should have planned better for this eventuality.”
“Ah, and to look back is always to see matters more clearly.”
There was a wistfulness in Duncan’s tone. Eglantine peered at her spouse and saw the lines of care in his brow. “You are not so confident in this as you would pretend.”
He shrugged, then managed a smile. “Is it not my place to reassure my lady’s doubts?”
“Even if you share them?”
They smiled at each other for a moment, then embraced tightly. Eglantine buried her face in his shoulder, taking comfort in his solidity and dependability, then raised her face in sudden alarm. “You do not think that this madness might inspire Mhairi to do the same?”
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