There were roses in her cheeks on this evening and pure mischief in her smile. Though garbed as a noblewoman, she did not assume the demure demeanor of one.
And Bayard did not care. Indeed, he found himself smiling to see that clothing could not change the essence of his Esmeraude. She hovered in the doorway, her gaze fixed upon the knights at the board, and seemed to tap her feet in impatience like a trickster awaiting the last line of his jest.
Bayard smiled, knowing she anticipated the moment her identity would be revealed to the three knights. He acknowledged to himself that ’twas not merely the prospect of winning Montvieux that prompted his interest in this lady.
Esmeraude intrigued him as no other woman had done before.
Bayard liked her passion and her desire for adventure. He liked her quick wits and her determination to influence the rest of her days. He was troubled far less than he had expected that she was not remotely obedient.
Indeed, it made the conquest of her all the more sweet to know that ‘twas not easily won. Esmeraude had a way of turning him to her will, of prompting him to anger, of bringing words to his lips that he had not meant to utter. And Esmeraude wished a confession of love beyond all else. ’Twould not be easy to deny her.
But he would not lie to her, not again. One lie was sufficient between them and he would prefer that there were none at all.
’Twas good that Bayard had been well trained to face a challenge and that he had a rare determination to be victorious at any quest he undertook. ’Twould suit him well to have such a lady by his side. He eased to a seat at the back of the hall.
For the moment, he would watch, unobserved. Her gaze flicked over the hall, no doubt seeking him, and consternation touched her features when she did not see him. Bayard smiled into his mug.
She was more than half won.
The lord of Airdfinnan introduced his wife and children to the noble guests, then turned and offered a hand to Esmeraude. “And of course, you must know my wife’s sister, Esmeraude of Ceinn-beithe.”
Esmeraude smiled and sailed triumphant to the board, even as Amaury choked upon his ale. Connor frowned and Nicholas’ eyes were uncommonly wide.
“You are Esmeraude?” Nicholas demanded.
Esmeraude took her seat with such perfect poise that Bayard felt a burst of pride. “Of course.” She granted them a brilliant smile. “I had said that I would be at Airdfinnan and here I am. I thank you for your accompaniment. One hears that there are oft bandits upon the road.” She smiled at the astonished men, searched covertly for Bayard again, then tucked her napkin into her lap.
“But you rode with us and said naught,” Connor said darkly. “Indeed, you deliberately deceived us by pretending to be a peasant maid.”
“I did not expect you to be so readily tricked.” Esmeraude said archly, then smiled as a servant filled a chalice with ale for her. “Indeed, Bayard was not fooled for a moment by my ruse. Is he the sole one in your family with his wits about him?”
Bayard’s heart leapt at the sound of his name on her lips. He was delighted that the lady mentioned him with favor. The lord glanced up, evidently recalling the guest he had forgotten in his concern for his wife. He met Bayard’s gaze but Bayard shook his head, content to remain unnoticed for the moment.
“Aye, you rode with Bayard,” Connor muttered, then quaffed his ale. “He always had a desire to be first in all matters.”
Nicholas looked alarmed at this innuendo and glanced between Esmeraude and Connor.
“Does this mean that you have spurned my brother?” Amaury demanded.
Esmeraude smiled. “A man who does not believe in the merit of love is not the man for me.”
Connor inhaled, his disapproval evident. “Perhaps you should have thought of that afore you coaxed him into the woods.”
The silence that descended upon the hall was broken only by the snap of Connor’s fingers as he summoned more ale. All on the dais turned to Connor, their expressions either inquiring or condemning.
“What do you mean by this comment?” the lord asked coldly. “Do you cast accusations upon the reputation of a guest at my board?”
“Bayard always had to be first,” Connor repeated firmly. “And I do not doubt that he has been first in this deed as well.”
Esmeraude flushed and her maid Célie looked exasperated.
“My cousins may choose for themselves, but I will not court another man’s leavings.” Connor leveled a cool glance at Esmeraude. “I have always thought that a lady of grace and temperance would come virginal to her nuptial bed.”
“The children!” the lady of Airdfinnan cried. She placed her hands over the ears of the toddler even as the color drained from her own face. She sent an imploring glance to the lord, who rose to his feet. Indeed, Bayard took a step forward himself to defend his lady.
But Esmeraude needed the aid of neither of them. She rose, her color high, and urged her brother-in-law aside as she made her way toward Connor. “And you, of course, will be chaste yourself until your own wedding night?”
Connor smiled. “’Tis not your concern what I do and do not do.”
“But what I do is yours?”
“’Tis different for a bride.”
“Aye? It may be different for the bride you choose, but I would never wed a man who judges women by such a triviality.”
“’Tis hardly a triviality!”
“Nay? But on the morn after the nuptials, ’tis gone either way. And then the couple must make a life together, a marriage dependent upon their character and their strengths, not upon the presence or absence of blood upon the linens.”
Connor’s lips tightened. “No man of honor weds a whore.”
“So, now a woman who is not chaste must be a whore! Surely, sir, there is another choice betwixt the two?”
“Not enough of one to be of import.”
Esmeraude leaned toward Connor, her voice low and her eyes dangerously narrow. “There are women, Connor of Tullymullagh, who do not bleed upon the linens of their nuptial bed, though indeed they are virginal. Would you spurn a bride for the sake of a few drops of blood?”
Connor leveled a stare at her. “You lie. And aye, I would.”
“Yet men wed widows all the time. How is it that my mother was wed thrice? She bore children in each marriage, therefore could not have been virginal after those first nuptials.” Esmeraude lifted her chin in challenge and propped her hands upon her hips. Bayard had the distinct sense that she enjoyed this argument.
And she argued well, this he had to admit.
Connor waved away her objection. “Widows are wedded all the time, though ’tis oft more for their holdings than their person.”
“Not true!” Esmeraude protested hotly. “Duncan wed my mother for the love of her!”
“Or was it for the title to Ceinn-beithe?” Connor shook his head. “None can know the heart of any man, only the contents of his own. When I see that a man has wed and won a grand holding, then I cannot trust any such pledge of love.”
Esmeraude’s expression turned chilly. “So you would suggest that I believe all men come to court me lie when they claim to desire me for my own self?”
Connor shrugged. “You should ask one you might count among that company. I court your hand no longer.”
“On the basis of a suspicion alone?” the lady demanded.
“I know what I saw.”
“You saw naught!”
“I saw enough. Do you confess, then, to surrendering your chastity?” Connor demanded. “Tell us the truth of it, then, and make an argument in your own defense.”
The lady of Airdfinnan appeared to hold her breath but Esmeraude’s color rose yet further. “I will confess naught to those determined to believe ill of me. Why should I believe that you would grant credit to any truth I might utter?”
Connor snorted and sipped his ale. “For you know the truth will show you no favor. Your reluctance is condemnation enough for me.”
“You
do not know that!” Esmeraude cried.
“I know what I saw,” Connor insisted.
“And what did you see, Connor?” Bayard asked, sauntering forth from the shadows as he did so. “Do tell us all.”
Everyone upon the dais as well as those in the hall turned to face Bayard, but he held his cousin’s gaze. He arched a brow, as if to dare his cousin to make his accusation openly, but Connor flushed, then buried his nose in his ale.
Bayard glanced to his lady and his heart leapt at her evident joy in seeing him. He knew as he smiled back at her that they would wed shortly indeed.
He strolled across the hall confidently, knowing that a way would be cleared before him. “What you witnessed, Connor, was a kiss of favor bestowed by a lady upon the suitor with whom she was most pleased.”
He paused before Esmeraude and bowed low, then took her hand in his and kissed its back. Under the watchful gazes of all, he turned her hand in his, then kissed her palm. She shivered as he folded her fingers over his embrace.
“Lady mine,” he said quietly, but not so quietly that the others at the table could not hear, “your beauty challenges the splendor of the heavens this night and your smile is more radiant than the sun itself.”
Esmeraude smiled and pulled her hand from his grip. “You probably say as much to all the demoiselles whose hands you court.” Her tone was light and teasing, so Bayard could not take offense.
“Nay, Esmeraude, only the ones I intend to win.” He winked at her and when her smile broadened, he felt a most uncommon surge of relief.
Buoyed, Bayard turned to gesture to the assembly. “Greetings, cousins and brother, and well met. Your argument, Connor, puts me in mind of a tale, one concerned with a knight winning his lady’s hand against every adversity.”
“Tell it!” cried the oldest of the lord’s daughters. She bounced on the bench in evident excitement as the others turned to Bayard inquisitively. “We love to hear tales! Do we not, Aunt Esmeraude?”
“Aye, I have learned that the lady is fond of a tale,” Bayard said smoothly. “Let all those suitors gathered here offer compensation to the Lord of Airdfinnan by entertaining his household.”
“I have heard the tale that you would tell, and I care naught for it,” Esmeraude said with a proud lift of her chin, her mood changing sharply against him.
Bayard smiled. “You have heard but the beginning of the tale, and little of the adventures to follow. I would wager that you will find the continuation of the tale more pleasing than you expect.” He saw her indecision and knew ’twas fed by her curiosity.
“We could each tell a tale,” Nicholas suggested. “And Esmeraude could choose which one she loved best.”
’Twas clear he meant more than the tales themselves. Esmeraude glanced to the other knights, then back to Bayard, her gaze lingering upon him. “Do Tristran and Iseut truly fall in love?” she asked with challenge in her tone. “For otherwise, I do not care to hear it.”
Bayard let his smile broaden. “I can tell the tale or not tell the tale. ’Tis your choice, lady mine.”
She eyed her very pregnant sister, then nodded once crisply. “’Tis a good evening to remain at the board and to rest,” she said, then put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “If ’tis my bidding that you suitors will follow, then I bid you each to tell a tale that will make my sister smile.” Esmeraude turned then to face Bayard, and granted him a knowing smile. “And yours had best improve, sir, if you intend to see me pleased.”
“You know that your pleasure is my sole desire,” Bayard murmured, meaning more than the pleasure won by a tale.
Esmeraude blushed and laughed lightly, her eyes dancing. Bayard felt a most illogical sense of victory, as if he had won a prize more tremendous than any he had won before. Aye, he dared not lose this contest. Montvieux, after all, hung in the balance.
But as Bayard watched Esmeraude, he knew that Montvieux was not the only prize he desired.
* * *
The children were nigh as excited as Esmeraude, though she knew their reasons were different than her own. For them, ’twas a rare treat to have an evening of new tales. Esmeraude found she was impatient with the offerings of the other men, wishing only to hear how Bayard’s saga progressed.
Indeed, she thought it a good sign that he was so intent upon winning her favor. Surely a man with no heart, as he claimed to be, would not put himself to so much trouble to charm her? She watched Bayard through her lashes, not wanting him to be so certain of her heart as she. It seemed that there was a thread stretched taut between the two of them, a ripple of awareness that Esmeraude was half-certain all the hall could discern.
It had been gallant of Bayard to pretend that theirs had been naught but a kiss, though his choice had surprised her. Surely the truth would have only strengthened his claim? It intrigued her that he defied her expectation and she was thrilled that he defended her honor.
What else did she not know about this man?
Annelise squeezed onto the bench between Esmeraude and Jacqueline, her expression bright with anticipation. Ysembel and Alina were quick to follow suit, one sitting on each side of the sisters. Fergus remained beside his father, who gave Esmeraude a slow nod of approval. Aye, Jacqueline would have bustled about this night to see to the accommodations of her guests and she was far better simply sitting at the board.
Amaury began to tell a tale and Esmeraude’s gaze wandered between the two brothers. She could not help but compare them to each other, for their coloring and features were so similar. Any fool would have known them to be brothers.
But there was something different, for Bayard looked to have sipped from the world’s cup of experience. His expression was wary and wry, his eyes glittered with an understanding of both people and events. In comparison, Amaury seemed young and soft, unshaped to manhood as yet, though she knew that she would have found him most handsome had she not met his elder brother first.
Amaury’s tale was fair enough, for he told the legend of Melusine. The younger girls were particularly enthralled by this story of faeries good and wicked. Though Esmeraude had heard it oft before, ‘twas a fine tale and Amaury recounted it well.
Connor told a thin tale of a ghost at his ancestral estate of Tullymullagh, his disinterest in this contest evident to all. ’Twas clear that he had no desire to seek Esmeraude’s favor, but perhaps felt ’twould be a slight to Jacqueline to not participate.
Nicholas recounted a tale that he said he had learned in Venetian from his grandfather. Esmeraude was fascinated by this exotic tale of an immortal doomed to wander in search of his beloved and the salvation only she could grant. There was a tale of lovers true! Surely ’twould sway Bayard to her thinking.
Or not. She could guess naught of his thoughts from his guarded expression.
Then ’twas Bayard’s turn. Esmeraude’s heart leapt to her throat when he stood. His manner was that of a man with no doubt that he would win. He cleared his throat several times, then bowed to the lady of the manor.
“With your forgiveness, my tale is also one of lovers whose path was fraught with disappointment. Theirs is a fine tale, however, and though I first heard it sung recently in France, ’tis said to have long roots hereabouts. ’Tis the tale of Tristran and Iseut.” He glanced toward Esmeraude and her heart thumped. “Would you hear it or shall I think of another?”
Jacqueline smiled and spoke before Esmeraude could do so. “I should love to hear this tale, for ’tis unfamiliar to me by such a name. We have a great fondness in this house for all tales of local origin.”
“As my gracious hostess commands, such is my will.” Bayard bowed low, then straightened and began to sing.
He sang the verses he had already sung to Esmeraude, addressing them to all of the company and evading her gaze. But when he came to the part she had yet to hear, he pivoted and caught her gaze, then held it unswervingly as he sang solely for her ears.
Esmeraude was enchanted.
The pair loved the j
ourney away,
Until arrived the fateful day,
Their vessel sailed into Cornwall.
King Mark’s bride was welcomed by all,
The King was delighted in truth,
By Tristran’s bringing his pledged due.
Iseut was garbed in royal red,
A crown hung o’er the nuptial bed.
’Twas not Mark’s bride who met him there,
Not Iseut, bride beyond compare:
’Twas Iseut’s maid, virgin Brangain,
For Iseut had with Tristran lain.
King Mark never did guess the truth,
For Night allied with Love and Youth.
Esmeraude was horrified that this Iseut could ask her maid for such a sacrifice, and that the king had been so readily fooled. But what would she do on the night of her nuptials? Would she lie to the man she loved? Or would she deceive him? It seemed that men put more value than she had hoped in the virginity of their brides. Esmeraude belatedly saw the value of her maid’s counsel.
Still, she could not regret the pleasure that she and Bayard had shared.
Bayard dropped his voice and the assembly leaned closer to hear the words.
Now hear about the dwarf Frocin,
Allied with barons Denoalen,
And Godoine and Ganelon.
These four had envy for Tristran,
For he was King Mark’s favored man.
They saw the lovers meeting when
The King was out upon his lands.
King Mark did not believe their tale,
He refused to credit such detail.
And so they four contrived a plot,
To show the King how he was mocked.
They told him of the lovers’ tryst,
An interval he dared not miss.
The pair met oft in the garden,
A quiet spot without warden.
They met beside a small fountain,
Each evening meeting there again,
And there they loved the night away,
The Bride Quest II Boxed Set Page 88