“Very sensible, Francis.”
“Thank you, sweetling.”
Fraser looked away as his friend kissed Claudine's hand. He felt awkward witnessing their intimacy. Seeing it, he thought about Bernadette.
I wonder if she would ever show interest in me?
It was difficult to gauge what she actually thought. She seemed repelled by him, yet he wasn't sure how much of that was simply part of their interaction.
She was so beautiful, with those soft lips, those big eyes and that confrontational manner. She excited him like no one ever had. He imagined what it would be like to feel that body naked under him.
“Well?” Francis broke his focus.
“What? Sorry, Francis. I was miles away.”
“Ah,” Francis grinned. “I won't ask what you were thinking about.”
“The ride, Francis,” he said evenly.
Francis chuckled. “Well, we do have beautiful grounds here. I was going to ask you about that, actually. I'm going to go and work now...if you want to talk after dinner? I'd like to share my plans for the new path to the abbey.”
“Indeed,” Fraser said. “I'll ride now.” He felt restless and he wanted to get out into the sunshine. When he was upstairs dressing, he admitted to himself that he'd been restless for days.
For three days. It was since he'd met her. He couldn't stop thinking about her.
He chuckled, drawing on high leather boots. He knew he was being silly. However, her wit and her temper captured him far more than any of the gentler ladies he'd encountered previously.
“Francis?” he called, heading out into the hall.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to ask you something. If I can disturb your reckoning?”
Francis grinned, looking up from a ledger. “Please do! My reckoning disturbs me enough. Distraction’s welcome.”
Fraser laughed. “Well, it was a simple thing. Do you employ many verderers?”
Francis frowned. “That's an odd question. I have twenty-five here on the estate. Why?”
“No new ones?” Fraser inquired.
“No,” Francis nodded, musingly. “I simply have those my father employed. He's away in Scotland now, or we could ask him. But I think he'd have informed me if he'd made such a decision anytime recently.”
“I'm sure he would have,” Fraser nodded.
“Why?”
“No matter,” Fraser dismissed the concern lightly. It was his suspicion. Not fact. Nevertheless, he had this firm conviction that those men were causing mischief. The black-clad men from the inn. In addition, he had a horrible suspicion they meant to do harm. To her.
“Well, if you spot any of them, you could ask,” Francis said kindly. “I wouldn't mind knowing if I have a few more than I thought I did. They could work on this new project.”
“Indeed,” Fraser agreed. He said his farewell rapidly. His friend was inclined to talk extensively about his plans for the estate. He wasn't sure he was ready for that just yet.
He really has settled down.
He chuckled as he headed out into the stables, swinging into the saddle on his horse, Bright-blade. He touched his knees to his flank and they went out together. As he rode, he couldn't help that his thoughts dwelt on his friend's transformation.
Francis was happy. He was settled and fast turning into a family man. It was a pleasure to see. Ever since he'd met Claudine, it seemed as if that awkward, restless spirit in him had been replaced with a rooted strength. His worries about not being quite acceptable as a count had dissolved.
Not that I ever had those worries, Fraser chuckled. However, I envy him his contentment.
He headed out across the field, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and the way the wind tousled his hair. He took a canter along one of the paths and found himself heading out toward the small, prosperous town of Annecy.
No harm in taking a look around.
From Annecy, the road led to the estate Evreux. He could almost see the small houses – the village, cottages, and hamlets that relied on the fortress walls of Evreux. He couldn't see the main house from here, though he found his thoughts straying to its occupant. He wondered how she fared and how she occupied her days.
I imagine she fills them with busyness. I wonder if she rides.
The thought intrigued him. He imagined her side-saddle on the horse he'd noticed in the stables. He found himself wondering about what it would feel like to go for a ride with her. Knowing himself well, he knew he'd find it tempting to race. He imagined she was a capable horsewoman and the thought pleased him.
Father expected me to settle down, which is precisely why I have resisted the idea so long.
It was a surprise for him to be dwelling on such thoughts. He was used to avoiding the subject of having a partner in his life – he had imagined that, since his father had always enforced the idea as a duty and not a pleasure for him, he'd dislike it. Imagining a wife as part of duty only made it seem unappealing to him. Now, he liked the thought.
He wanted to get to know her better. That thought set his course to Evreux.
“What'll I tell her?” he asked Bright-blade. His horse chuffed. He chuckled.
“Well, yes. I suppose I could tell her that. But really? I need an excuse...Why am I taking myself to her door today?”
He paused, savoring the thought of what she might say if he turned up for no apparent reason. He imagined her angry with him, barring him from her house. He would think of some way to make her change her mind. Then he would spend the day there, and the night...
Stop it.
He wasn't going to think about anything impossible. It would, he knew, be impossible to get into her bedchamber. She was a lady – well, not by birth, but she was one – and he was not going to traduce that boundary.
The imagining of it made him feel aroused and before he reached the road out of Annecy, his groin was throbbing. He laughed at himself. He had relished the feel of her sweet, curvy body pressed against him and he ached to feel more. To find out everything about her.
He shook his head at himself. He had ridden clean out of the town now and was on the road, heading and north to Evreux.
Why not, indeed?
He would figure out some way of talking himself into the house soon enough.
The thought pleased him and he was occupied in an imagined conversation with the lady when he rode into the treeline. He paused.
The woods here had a sense of threat about them. The stories of outlaws hiding here were well-known and he looked around, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up with nerves. He felt as if watching, unseen presences lurked in the broad-leafed treeline. He laughed, embarrassed.
He could feel the reassuring weight of his sword hanging by his thigh. He knew he could defend himself ably. He was trained for this, while the men he went against were renegades and likely had received no arms-training in their entire lives.
“It's my imagination.”
All the same, he thought he could detect voices. Somewhere, just out of sight, some people were talking. He rode ahead.
It was voices. Quite hushed, whispering. They were standing just off the path.
Instinct made the count dismount and lead his horse sideways, veering off the main track. Hidden between trees, he moved stealthily forward.
“...and remember, he said be nice and quiet about it.”
“Quiet? Hell, Jules. How you think this is going to be easy?”
“I don't,” the first voice said. “I'm just saying make it as easy as possible.”
The count instantly felt his hair rise. This was a voice he recognized! These were the three men from the inn – the three woodsmen he'd seen then.
What were they doing here?
He could almost laugh at himself for his suspicious inclinations: they were verderers, so in the woodlands discussing something was where he might expect to find them. They might be doing nothing more threat-ridden than working on his friend's new path.
The count crept closer.
“Fine,” one of the men said irritably. “I say we do it now, and quickly.”
“The count won't like that,” the second man said, making Fraser's hair stand on end. Which count? Himself, it certainly wasn't. Francis?
“Well, he'll have to.”
“He didn't want us to finish her off,” the man said quickly. “Just take her to Corron.”
“So he said,” the first man, the one called Jules, growled. “Not so easy. We'll knock her out.”
“Fine,” the other man, the one with a lowered voice, agreed. “But if he objects, I'll tell him you did it.”
“Fine,” the first man laughed mirthlessly. “Tell him that. I don't think he'd do aught to me for it.”
“Well,” the other man sighed. “If you say so. But we'll need transport. It's a long ride to Corron.”
“Farm cart,” the second man said quickly. “Hide her in the back. No one'll know until we're far off.”
“Good.”
The count leaned against the tree, heart racing. He had very little doubt that “she” was Bernadette. In addition, she was the target of these men and their plans. But the count? Of Corron? He could barely believe it.
The count is Lady Claudine's own uncle! Why would he...
Then it occurred to him. He was stupid! Of course the count held a grudge against Bernadette. All this had belonged to him before she helped to outwit his nefarious plans for Claudine and exposed his ill-will. He had lost all land and titles except that of Count of Corron, which he had been allowed by his brother, le Duc du Pavot, to maintain.
If anyone hated Bernadette, it would be him.
Heart thumping, he turned his horse, straining to silence, and headed to the road.
They were planning something, he knew. He had to take word to Lady Bernadette.
Before it was too late.
Setting his grip tight around his horse, he turned and galloped back to the main road. To go to Evreux. To warn her.
Whatever was going to happen to her, he couldn't risk it. Even though he barely knew her, she was already important to him.
What about Francis and Claudine? They're expecting me.
He closed his eyes, pensive. The distance between Annecy and Evreux was not so great. He could return there, fetch some things and head to Annecy if he started now.
He set out toward Annecy in haste.
CHAPTER SIX
ACQUAINTANCES AND MEMORIES
ACQUAINTANCES AND MEMORIES
“My dear!” Bernadette smiled and held out her hand to Claudine. While staring at that radiant, beautiful face, it was difficult to recall that a few years ago, she had barely been able to walk unassisted. She was radiant with happiness.
“Oh, Bernadette,” Claudine said, taking her hand and giving it a soft pat. “I am so pleased you thought to invite us. But what is the occasion, my dear?”
“Oh, no occasion,” Bernadette said lightly. “I just felt the longing to see my good friends, and a need to celebrate for no reason in particular. Is that unreasonable?”
Claudine laughed. “Oh, Bernadette! I did not wish to question you...I'm so glad you thought to invite us.”
“I'm so pleased you could be here. Come. Sit! You must refresh after your journey now.”
Claudine smiled at her and settled down at the table. Always a generous host, Bernadette had seen to it that it was stocked with food suitable for travelers hungry after journeying. The scent of spices wafted up from small flavored pastries and the delicious richness of fresh-baked bread added to the smell.
“I'll wait for Francis to come down...he's just seeing that Nicolene is settled.”
“Oh, good,” Bernadette smiled. “I'm so glad she could come with you. I'm happy to have you all here – especially on such short notice.”
“Not at all,” Claudine smiled. “Oh, thank you,” she added, accepting a glass of raspberry cordial.
“It's so good to have you both here,” Bernadette said warmly. Seated here in the solar in her own home, with her friend opposite her, she couldn't have been more content. She studied her afresh, amazed at how radiant she looked.
“It's good to be here,” Claudine smiled. “I'm afraid the journey is quite tiring...as you might imagine, Nicolene does not travel well.”
Bernadette laughed. Her friend's daughter was just over two years old. She could only imagine what it must be like to have a toddling infant in the confines of a coach. “I believe it,” she said sympathetically.
Claudine rolled her eyes. “Well! I don't complain. I still think of her as a miracle.”
Bernadette nodded thoughtfully. “She is,” she added.
Claudine nodded, looking down at her hands. They were quiet for a long moment.
“I remember how I never expected anything like this in my own life,” Claudine murmured.
“I know,” Bernadette said. She looked out through the window, but she wasn't looking at the pale, sunset-washed sky, but into the recent past. The image of Claudine from then was not the confident, strong woman who sat at her table now, but rather a woman pale and ill, barely able to walk, let alone to dance, ride or have anything approaching a normal life.
“I thought I would not live to be two and twenty, then,” Claudine chuckled. “Never mind have a marriage! Or a babe.”
“I know,” Bernadette said again. Her mouth turned down in sadness, recalling that. She remembered how Claudine had suffered for that – how the other ladies at the court had pitied her, but also scorned her for her frail condition.
“Well, all that's in the past, now,” Claudine added. “I am glad of that.”
“I, too.”
They sat quietly for a while. Bernadette frowned. She had received Evreux when Claudine's family discovered the identity of her would-be assassin.
“Your uncle,” Bernadette said, naming him.
Claudine closed her eyes, her face a picture of distress. “Please, don't mention him,” she said.
Bernadette looked at her hands, instantly feeling guilty for raising the topic. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “That was wrong of me.”
“No,” Claudine insisted. “You didn't mean to upset me. It's in the past now. I hear he still manages well.”
“Oh?” Bernadette felt surprise. As far as she had been aware – at least, as she'd assumed – Claudine's scheming and cruel uncle had left France altogether. Was he still here?
“He manages with just Corron now, of course,” she said. Corron was his estate – as count of Corron, he had nevertheless owned several other small landholdings, one of which was the farming village, Evreux. Which now belonged to Bernadette.
“I'm surprised by that,” she admitted. Corron was well-defended, but it had minimal land and was not particularly well-farmed.
“I too,” Claudine murmured.
“Well, I wish him no ill,” Bernadette said in a small, tight voice. “I wouldn't sink to his level by wishing he had left…or something worse,” she added direly.
Claudine covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head though, a small sad smile twisting her lovely pale-lipped mouth. “I know,” she admitted. “I too.”
Bernadette nodded. “I think it's reasonable, dear,” she ventured. “That man was going to put an end to you.”
“I know,” Claudine agreed. “But now I am alive, and I have Nicolene. And Francis.”
“I understand,” Bernadette nodded. “Your happiness means more than seeking vengeance.”
“Well-spoken.”
They sat quietly awhile, the warmth of the sunlight relaxing them where it fell in bright rays through the vaulted windows.
“Well,” Claudine asked, suddenly changing the subject. “What do you think?”
“Think?” Bernadette frowne
d, completely mystified.
“Think of the count, of course!”
“The count? Oh!” Bernadette raised a hand to her lips, covering a little “o” of surprise. “Well, I think...Claudine, confound it,” she said.
“What?” Claudine said. Her mouth was twisted by a smile again though, so that Bernadette knew she teased.
“You know why I'm shocked. How can you ask me about that man? He's vile!”
Claudine looked surprised, her big blue eyes wide, though she giggled. “Vile? No, dear!”
“He is!” Bernadette protested, her mouth twisting in a grin despite her indignation. “He truly is! He's rude and arrogant...” She stopped.
“Well?” Claudine asked. “You haven't told me whether you like him, still.”
“Like him!” Bernadette expostulated. “He's the rudest man I ever met!”
Claudine chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, dear.”
Claudine frowned. The expression made Bernadette wonder what she was thinking. “What?” she asked.
“I...” Claudine began, hesitant. “I wanted to ask if you'd noticed...his heritage.”
“His heritage?” Bernadette's heart thumped. Was she right in her assumptions?
“He...his mother's Scottish.”
“Oh!” Bernadette was amazed. “Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Claudine was mystified.
“A lot.” Bernadette sighed. “Well, I'm being unfair. Fraser isn't frank and...well...breathtakingly direct.”
Claudine giggled. “Well, he is sometimes.”
“Oh?”
“Yes!”
Bernadette's heart warmed. She was glad she had discovered something aright about the mysterious stranger.
“Milady Claudine?”
A familiar voice spoke from behind Bernadette and she turned around to see Francis in the doorway, a hesitant grin on his rugged face. She would have known it was him in any case, for the look on Claudine's face when she heard his voice spoke volumes.
“My Francis!” Claudine smiled. “We were just wondering where you'd disappeared to.”
Bernadette bit her cheeks to stifle her own smile. The two of them together were so endearing that she couldn't help a grin. She saw the way they looked at each other and her heart was so happy for them that it was almost a physically painful experience. She was not jealous, but she was amazed.
Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 24