“Perhaps.” Esmeraude had more pressing matters on her mind than to speculate about what children she and Bayard might have.
Célie tore the loaf of bread with more vigor than the task deserved, her gesture drawing Esmeraude’s eye. She then tore it again and again, though the loaf was already in sufficiently small pieces.
Célie’s voice dropped as she shredded one piece of the bread to oblivion. “Perhaps you might have need of an old maid who knows a bit about small children,” she murmured, then glanced up. “Perhaps, Esmeraude, you might still have need of me in your household.”
Célie’s gaze was bright with hope, her fingers so busy that the bread was nigh in flakes in her lap. When Esmeraude did not respond immediately, the maid spoke in great haste. “I am not too old to be of service, Esmeraude, and I should dearly like to see France’s shores once again. At least, I assume that that is where your knight’s holding lies. And if you had such a son, I should be able to aid you, I know I should...”
“Célie!” Esmeraude laid a hand on the maid’s shoulder, touched that the older woman wished so much to remain with her. She smiled, forgetting her own concerns for the moment. “Of course you may accompany me if ‘tis your choice. I had hoped you would, but thought you might prefer to remain here.”
Célie closed her eyes and bit her lip, then shook her head. “Nay, Esmeraude. I would prefer to remain with you.”
“But you have been here for nigh eighteen years.”
“Nay, I have been with you for nigh eighteen years.” The maid opened her eyes and smiled, her tears threatening to fall. “’Tis no jest that I think of you as my own child, Esmeraude, though we did not meet until you were two. I should be most honored to hold your children upon my lap. I am not so old that I cannot earn my keep, you need not fear for that.”
“You need not have fears for earning your keep,” Esmeraude scolded softly. “I think of you as my own blood as well, and I know that I should be most pleased to have a familiar face in my household, wherever it may be.”
She glanced to Bayard, wondering where his holding was. Truly, the man had a gift for distracting her from matters with which she should be concerned!
The maid nodded, returning to her labor. “’Twill be different in France, upon that you can rely. People are more formal and their homes more grand than what you have known.”
“Did he tell you that his holding was in France?”
Célie blinked. “Is it not? I assumed as much.”
’Twas a fair assumption, though Esmeraude knew she must find out the truth. “Then you shall be my tutor,” she suggested with a smile. “For you will remember what is right and be able to save me from a dire error of protocol.” Esmeraude wiped a tear from her maid’s cheek. “Fear not, Célie,” she said softly. “I shall always have need of you.”
“Thank you, Esmeraude!” The maid sniffled. The two exchanged a tight hug then pulled back to regard the shredded bread. ’Twas a rueful mess and the two women began to laugh at the state of it, for there was no way it could be offered to the men as a repast.
“Is aught amiss?” Bayard asked from behind Esmeraude. She turned to find his expression quizzical, his gaze darting between the two women.
“Nay. I simply reassured Célie that I would have her in my company wheresoever I find myself.” Esmeraude lifted her chin, wondering whether he would challenge her upon this decision to add to his household. ’Twas made without his endorsement, after all, and she could not guess what he expected of her.
“Fine,” Bayard said crisply, his manner dismissive as if the detail was of little import. “’Twill be a comfort to you to have a familiar face in my hall, no doubt.”
He spared a glance to the ruined bread and frowned. “Perhaps we shall wait and eat at midday.” He then nodded, his decision made. “Indeed, if we ride very hard, we might make Ceinn-beithe in time to join their midday meal. Come, let us hasten.”
“Ceinn-beithe?” Esmeraude echoed, as though surprised. She was not that surprised, in truth. Bayard seemed a man unlikely to dally once his choices were made.
He spared her an incisive glance. “Of course, Ceinn-beithe. Where else should we go?”
“I had thought we rode to Airdfinnan.”
“To what purpose?”
“My riddle was intended to lead my suitors there,” Esmeraude reminded him and smiled. She might win her way with a measure of charm.
Bayard’s answering smile was thin. “But you have chosen me as your spouse, thus there is no need to go to Airdfinnan. Indeed, we should be wed at Ceinn-beithe, that your parents may witness the event. ’Tis only courteous, Esmeraude.”
Esmeraude straightened at his implication that her manners were lacking. “Is it not courteous to meet those I invited to Airdfinnan?” she asked frostily. “Or to explain to my sister why such men arrive at her gates?”
The tension in Bayard’s features eased. “Ah, I see the reason for your concern,” he said. “’Tis most thoughtful of you to worry about such details. I shall dispatch Michael to Airdfinnan with your message and our regrets.”
“But—”
Bayard drummed his fingers upon his thigh as he thought, then shook his head briskly. “Nay, that will not suffice. We shall send a runner from Ceinn-beithe with this message, for otherwise we should be obliged to wait too long for Michael’s return before our own departure to join the king.”
Without waiting for Esmeraude’s comment, he gestured to the boys to hurry and turned away. ’Twas clear that Bayard not only expected Esmeraude to agree with him but that she would dutifully follow him. Célie stood and brushed off her skirts, but Esmeraude stood her ground.
She was not a hunting hound, who trotted loyally at its master’s heels. This was a matter to be resolved immediately. Indeed, ’twas a matter of principle.
“What if I wished to say farewell to my sister at Airdfinnan?” she demanded.
Bayard’s exasperation was thinly veiled when he turned to face her again. “I would be delighted to invite your sister and her family to visit us in France at any time you so desire, but for the moment, I would depart.”
“I wish to see her now.” Esmeraude braced herself for a fight, folding her arms across her chest. “In truth, I will not wed you without seeing my sister first.”
Bayard’s eyes flashed, but his tone was temperate. Too temperate, in fact, and Esmeraude knew his irritation with her was rising. She did not care. She wished to discuss this and arrive at a decision together, not be told what she would do. She would not set a precedent now for the rest of her life.
The man had best know that she had opinions of her own, and he had best know it soon.
“Time is of the essence, my Esmeraude. We must meet King Richard before he sails to France, for I should be in his close company. With good fortune, we should arrive in time.”
“I had no understanding that you had such obligations.”
“I have many such commitments and doubtless you will learn them all in time,” he said, his manner indicating that he felt he owed Esmeraude no further explanation. “Let us go immediately, my lady. Your palfrey awaits.”
“’Tis fortunate for your obligations that you won my agreement so quickly,” Esmeraude could not help but observe, her tone tart.
Bayard only smiled as he offered her his hand to aid her to mount. “It has long been said that Fortune favored my endeavors,” he said, then winked as if a playful manner would take the sting from his authoritative manner.
He was wrong. Esmeraude had never been a particularly biddable woman and she did not take readily to Bayard’s easy assumption that she would do whatsoever he desired.
“How sad for you that on this day you must learn how capricious Fortune can be,” Esmeraude retorted. She swung into the palfrey’s saddle without his aid and looked down at the annoyed knight.
“And what is that to mean?” he demanded, his eyes snapping.
“That I am not chattel, nor am I yours to command.
I will see my sister before we depart this land, even if it means that we must ride hard afterward to meet your obligations.” She smiled sweetly. “Indeed, if you confided your duties to me, ’twould be far simpler to plan our doings in advance.”
“I have no obligation to consult with you. My decisions are made for the entire party!”
“I have no obligation to follow your bidding.”
That caught his attention. “’Tis the place of a wife to cede to her spouse’s wishes!” Bayard roared. “’Tis her duty to do as she is bidden.”
Esmeraude laughed lightly. “And men wonder why marriage holds so little appeal for me. I would have not just adventure, but respect from my spouse. Perhaps you have need of a lesson afore we meet a priest.”
“You have my respect!”
“Excellent. Then you will take me to Airdfinnan to see my sister, yielding to my desire as a good and loving husband should do.”
Bayard seemed at a momentary loss for words.
Esmeraude seized the moment and touched her heels to the steed’s side, letting it saunter to the road. “I am going to Airdfinnan,” she cried over her shoulder, having no doubt that she provoked him. “Shall I meet you there, or will you ride with me?” She urged her palfrey in the direction of Airdfinnan, knowing full well that Bayard would be fast behind her.
Esmeraude smiled at the sound of his swearing and knew that he would have much to say when he did catch up to her.
She was not disappointed.
Chapter Nine
’Twas bad enough that Esmeraude insisted upon nonsense and that she defied him openly—before his own squires!—without the added complication of another party approaching.
Bayard was even less pleased that he quickly recognized his brother and cousins among the surrounding escort of squires. Other suitors for Esmeraude’s hand were not the people he wished to see, not before this unpredictable lady had sworn herself to him for all eternity.
That she seemed particularly disinclined to do so at this moment only irked Bayard further. He hastened after Esmeraude and laid claim to her palfrey’s reins, taking due note of how she flicked her hair over her shoulder, a sign of pending trouble.
The three approaching knights had once been his close friends as well as his cousins and Bayard felt a pang at seeing them. He had once been of their company. Indeed, he had been the instigator of much of the mischief they had made in their younger days. These past five years had driven a wedge between him and them, though the three others clearly remained comrades.
Not that he cared. Nay, he had greater matters in his thoughts.
Bayard took a hard assessment of the three knights, hoping to convince himself that they could not hold Esmeraude’s eye for long. Aye, it behooved a man to know his competition, even when he was nigh certain he had won.
The first was his own brother, Amaury. At eighteen summers of age, Amaury had grown considerably in the years since Bayard had last seen him. He was dark of hair, like Bayard, and possessed their father’s ready smile. He wore Villonne’s colors proudly and Bayard assumed that his father had chosen Amaury as his heir after Bayard’s own departure.
Amaury rode with only one squire, though his armament gleamed, due to both good care and good quality. He had always been quiet, but gracious when called upon. He was no match for Esmeraude, in Bayard’s opinion, for she would readily dominate him.
But Villonne was no small prize. If Esmeraude desired comfort and riches to spend as she wished, Villonne and Amaury could keep her well enough, especially as she was accustomed to Ceinn-beithe and its more modest revenues.
Hmm. Bayard turned to assess his cousin Connor. He knew his cousin to be one year younger than Amaury, but if he had not known as much, he would have guessed the age difference between them to be much greater. Amaury was tall, like Bayard and their father—indeed, their mother was tall as well—but Connor was small in comparison.
Connor was only as tall as Amaury’s chin, though he was broad of shoulder. He was one to say little but follow a conversation avidly, then make some wry comment that was perfect for the moment. Like his father, he said naught without considering his words well. As a child, he had been the greatest practical joker Bayard had ever known—and had been able to feign innocence so well that he was seldom assumed to be responsible.
His eyes though, a vivid green that made him look like a child of the fey, danced with mischief in those moments and could reveal him to the careful observer. Indeed, Esmeraude with her love of tales and impish manner of her own might find Connor unexpectedly suitable.
Bayard was not as reassured by this exercise as he had hoped to be.
After delaying the matter as long as possible, he considered Nicholas. Nicholas, who believed himself to be heir to Montvieux, whose father believed him to be heir to Montvieux, whose legacy Bayard would steal by winning Esmeraude. Bayard watched his cousin and acknowledged that achieving his ambition would cost another their own.
His success would be Nicholas’ loss.
Though it might well save Nicholas’ life, he doubted that his cousin would see the matter that way. Nicholas was not qualified to protect the family holding from a king’s army and Bayard knew that he alone could prevent Montvieux from being lost. ’Twas he who could ensure that their family legacy endured.
Indeed, ’twas his duty to claim Montvieux and protect their legacy before ’twas too late.
A year older than Bayard, Nicholas did not appear as young as the other two knights. He was tall and lean, graced with his father’s russet hair and engaging manner. He recounted some tale to his cousins now, his gestures lively and his frequent laughter echoing ahead of the party.
Esmeraude was clearly enchanted. As she gazed upon Nicholas, her eyes sparkled, and her lips were curved in a smile.
Bayard’s innards clenched.
If there had ever been a man who would see beyond the lack of virginity in a bride, ’twas Rowan’s son. They were a most unconventional family, what with their Venetian connections and uncommon joie de vivre. An unpredictable woman might well prefer such uncommon circumstance and their boisterous household.
It seemed that Bayard would vie with Nicholas over more than the family estate. Bayard took another look at lady and knight, and considered what he might do. He did not intend to lose and needed to make a choice quickly.
“I would ask a favor of you,” Bayard said softly. At Esmeraude’s enquiring glance, he continued. “I would ask you to not reveal your identity to my cousins and brother.”
Esmeraude smiled. “Do you not trust them, sir? Or is it that you do not trust me?”
Bayard’s eyes narrowed, for she had not addressed him formally of late. Her eyes were wide with an innocence that he had already learned better than to trust. Rather than vexing him though, Esmeraude’s spirit made him long to tame her and his blood quickened with the prospect of how he might do so.
But that would have to wait. “Nay, I do not trust my cousins, not when there is such a prize as your hand involved.”
“Then who shall I be, if not myself?”
“Why not continue your ruse, that of being a simple country maid?”
“The ruse that did not fool you?”
Bayard gritted his teeth. “Aye, ’twill do.”
“Will it? Will they be readily persuaded that you have claimed such a maid to sate your base desires? Is it a habit of yours?”
Bayard had the definite sense that his intended tried to provoke him. He held her gaze until color rose in her cheeks, but she did not look away.
“I do not know what they think of me, for we have seen naught of each other in five years,” he said with a calmness he did not feel. “And I cannot guess what expectation they have of my habits, though ’tis not uncommon for many men to do exactly thus.”
“What of you?”
“I have always enjoyed the company of women.”
Her eyes flashed for but a moment before her expression was demure once more. “Sh
all I be a whore or an innocent?”
“Esmeraude!”
“I must know how I am to behave,” she said, her tone reasonable though her eyes danced with devilry. “And clearly I must be told by you what to do, as ’tis my place. Have I been raped, or seduced? Or did I seduce you? Where did we meet, and when? Truly there are a thousand possibilities, all of which affect...”
“Es—” Bayard began to shout her name in frustration, but bit back upon it in time. The other party was nigh within earshot. He took a deep breath and released it slowly.
“My lady,” he said, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “I ask only that you do not reveal your name. ’Tis a simple request and if you know not what to say, then I suggest you say naught.”
“Aye, I gain the impression that ’twill oft be preferable if I say naught,” Esmeraude retorted. “Particularly naught that challenges what you say.” She smiled sweetly despite the sharpness of her words, as if she would challenge him to argue with her.
And that was enough.
“What ails you?” Bayard demanded. “I ask only that you keep your name to yourself!” He spared a glance to the rapidly approaching party and found his temper coming to a boil at this most inconvenient moment. “We can argue the matter fully soon enough, but for the moment, do I have your agreement?”
Esmeraude smiled and bowed her head, the image of wifely obedience. “Your will is my command, my lord master.”
Aye, she would make some mischief, of that Bayard was certain.
’Twas small consolation that he gained some understanding of this unpredictable temptress. All the same, he wished he had a better idea of what precisely she would do or say to his cousins and brother.
’Twas disconcerting to realize not only how little he knew of this woman he would take to wife, but how greatly she had already challenged his expectations.
He truly did not know what to expect of her. For a man like Bayard, who preferred to hold a situation in the palm of his hand, this was perhaps the most troubling trait his intended could have possessed.
The Bride Quest II Boxed Set Page 84