“We have to leave this place. Where we go is less important. As long as we can get back to Scotland eventually,” Conn explained.
Leona nodded slowly. “I agree. Whatever leaves Calais first, we'll buy passage. I have silver. We can afford it.”
Conn smiled at her. “Trust you to see to that. You think of everything, Leona.”
Leona smiled. “I am so, so pleased that you're here, Conn!”
Conn let out a ragged breath. “You have no idea how pleased I am to be here! No idea, lass.” He kissed her hair and then she stood, walking briskly to the door.
“I should get ready for dinner,” she said quickly. “And, Conn?”
“Yes?” he whispered.
“I'll send Leblanc up with a new tunic. You need one.”
“Leona!” he said, laughing incredulously, his face bright red. “You shocking thing!”
“You did say I thought of everything,” she said, grinning pertly. Then she opened the door and soundlessly slipped out into the hallway.
Conn sat down heavily, feeling dizzy with happiness.
He was here. Leona was here. They would escape. In a week or two, they could be home with all this behind them. When they reached the soil of their castle, they would wed. There was no more merit to be had from waiting.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A RIDE AND A DISCOVERY
A RIDE AND A DISCOVERY
The next morning, Conn awoke with a smile. He stretched and felt soft linen beneath him. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He was in Annecy. Somewhere in this very building was Leona.
His smile grew wider then. He remembered what she had looked like in that pretty dress the evening before, allowed his imagination to focus on those smooth curves and imagine what it would be like to undress her. To kiss that soft neck and let his mouth move down to the smooth rise of her breasts. He imagined them full and warm in his hands as his lips closed over a hard nipple, sucking it tenderly into his mouth. Imagined her surprised smile of pleasure as he did so.
Whist man! He felt a hardening in his groin and chuckled to himself. He slid out of the crisp sheets and stretched, yawning.
“My lord?” The servant who appeared with a tunic for him sniffed in a disapproving fashion as Conn walked heavily to the ewer and rinsed his face in it, sighing in pleasure at being clean again after the long journey.
“Thank you,” Conn commented as the man left the clean tunic and withdrew.
As Conn shrugged on the clothing, he let his mind turn to more serious thoughts. Like, for example, the problem Leona had confided to him the evening before.
There is something odd going on here. And I don't like the look of that other feller who's staying here as a house guest.
He finished dressing and combed his hair, and then went downstairs to the dining hall.
“...And we should make sure to visit, ah!” the Count of Annecy declared, smiling at Conn as he entered. “Look, niece! Your kinsman arises earlier than we had expected him.”
Conn flushed as Leona turned in her chair, giving him a broad grin. “Good morning, Leona,” he said warmly.
“Hello, Conn,” she said, giving him the teasing grin that she had given him since they were children. “I'm surprised to see you awake. You had a long journey yesterday.”
Conn smiled at her and took the seat the tall footman drew for him. “I slept so well, I don't think I'll ever be tired again,” Conn grinned.
He noticed her uncle looking between them with a bemused grin, then saw Leona notice it too and translated for him.
While Leona was busy relaying their conversation to her uncle, Conn allowed himself to give her a closer look. His eye ran down from her strawberry tresses to the dress she wore; a simple dress in green linen, but cut in a way that showed each of her delicious curves to best advantage. He found himself flushing and looked quickly away.
“...And we should...Conn!”
“Uh? Yes, Leona?” Conn looked round to Leona, feeling foolish. He hadn't realized that she was talking to him!
“I was just asking Uncle if we might borrow some horses from the stables,” Leona said, raising a brow at Conn.
He recognized the gesture from childhood as alerting him to a hidden meaning. “Oh,” Conn blinked. “Yes. Uh, yes please, sir,” he added, smiling hopefully at the Count of Annecy. “That would be really kind.”
Leona rolled her eyes at him and then translated for her uncle, who nodded, said something brief, and then clapped his hands to bring a servant running.
Conn reached for some bread and ham off the central serving plates.
While her uncle explained their needs to the servant, Leona turned to Conn. “I need to talk to you alone. We can do that on the ride. Oh! There's a big dragon on your nose.”
Conn looked at her as if she had gone mad. “Leona? What...”
“Hush,” she admonished.
Conn sat beside her, feeling confused. Had she lost her mind? What was the nonsense about the dragon? “Leona...”
At that moment, Leona's uncle coughed and they turned to face him. He said a few sentences, then nodded affably and pushed in his chair.
“Uncle said he's got to do some business with the Comte,” Leona explained in a whisper. “He says we are welcome to his hospitality and to a ride before luncheon.”
“Thank you,” Conn said to her uncle. He nodded and left. Conn turned to Leona. “Leona! What the...”
“Whew,” she said, ignoring his urgent whisper. “Now we can talk. Conn – I think the Comte of Cleremont understands more than we think he does.”
“What?” Conn stared at her. “Leona – how can he understand Gaelic? Are you sure?”
“I'm not sure of anything,” Leona said seriously. “But this morning, when I came down, he was at breakfast. He said something about the sundial in the arbor. Remember when we were talking about it yesterday?”
“Yes?”
“Well, he asked me if I had explored the gardens. I said yes, and he mentioned the sundial. Asked if I can read it. I told him yes.”
“So?”
“Well, he said he was not surprised...that I always think of everything.”
“Are you sure it isn't just coincidence?” Conn asked. He was rewarded with a skeptical look.
“And he would have known the joke we made about how I always think of everything, too? By coincidence?”
Conn let out a long breath. “Leona...”
“We have to be careful,” Leona continued in a whisper.
“How do you know your uncle doesn't understand Gaelic?” he asked.
“Is there a dragon on your nose?” Leona asked with a skew grin.
“What the heck are you...Oh!” Conn nodded, understanding. She had seen her uncle watching them and wanted to find out if he would react. Since he hadn't reacted to her crazy comment at all, he must not understand. “Smart,” he said, nodding.
“Thanks,” Leona smirked.
Suddenly they could have been children together again. The thought twisted Conn's heart painfully, reminding him of their current difficulty. “Well, then. Since we know the count understands us, what can we do?”
“Go riding?” Leona suggested.
Conn nodded. He was already standing, pushing in his chair. “Let's go.”
They met by the stables and Conn had to restrain himself from gawking at her. In her flame-colored riding dress, her figure was shown off to perfection. He could see her generous cleavage, narrow waist, long legs. She was so beautiful that it made his whole body ache.
“Leona...”
“Hello,” she smiled coyly. “Are you ready to go riding?”
He grinned. “Yes.”
They mounted and set off.
As they rode along the path that led to the hilltop, Conn couldn't help slowing so he could admire Leona from all angles. The second time he did it, he caught her blue eyes on him, a naughty look in them.
“Conn,” she said with a grin. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” he asked innocently.
“Stop finding excuses to slow down. We're not wed yet. And if we don't find a way through this mess, we won't ever be.”
Conn nodded, feeling foolish suddenly. “Yes, Leona.”
She smiled and he fell in beside her. “Conn?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think we could ride to Aix in a night?”
Conn bit his lip, thinking. “No. Not just because of distance. Because of danger on the road, I think we'd do best to hide around here somewhere, in an abbey or something, before we set off to Calais. We need to keep as low a profile as we can.”
“I agree,” Leona nodded.
“I think what we should do is ride to Bois, and there we can stop at...” His next thought was interrupted by a shout. He turned to see a man running up the path behind them.
“My lady Leona! My lord,” the serving-man panted, doubled over from the run. He turned to Leona and said a long sentence, then, when she nodded, smiling, he disappeared, back down the way he had come.
Conn turned to Leona, a frown on his brow.
“He said my uncle sent him. He's summoned us back to the house.”
“Oh?” Conn looked at her, eyes wide.
Leona nodded. “I think someone is behind this.”
“You mean..?”
“I mean our Comte of Cleremont wouldn't want us being too friendly, now would he?” She made a sour face.
“You think he asked your uncle to fetch us back?” Conn asked, falling in beside Leona as they walked their horses back toward the manor.
“I think there's a lot we don't know about my uncle and his friendship with the Comte,” Leona said grimly.
Conn swallowed. “You don't think he wants to force you to marry him, do you?”
Leona nodded. “I think it suits them both, Conn. My uncle is not unkind, but he is ambitious. He wants the land the Comte is offering him. He imagines what value it will add to his estate, how much revenue he can make from farms on the sunny southern side.”
“And he'd sell you for that?” Conn stared, aghast.
“He'd sell almost anything for a bigger profit,” Leona said firmly. “As I said, I like him, but he wants to make Annecy the richest holding in northwestern France. And who can blame him?”
Conn nodded, feeling slightly ill. “I suppose. But this is...this is wrong, Leona.”
Leona blinked at him. “Yet marriages in our own land are negotiated for less every day.”
“I suppose.”
“Come,” Leona added. “There he is. We'll have to try and speak alone later.”
Conn looked up the path, noticing that she was correct: her uncle had come out and stood near the stables, waiting for them. Behind him, the smile carefully wiped off his face, was the Comte.
Conn found he felt slightly ill. Leona was right, he supposed. Men of power manipulated and used their sons and daughters in this way every day. For land, for power. For gain. All the same, it was a world he had never thought existed before. Now, looking at the Comte and the way his thin lips lifted in a triumphant grin as he and Leona walked up the path, he wished he was still ignorant of it.
“Ah, Leona,” her uncle said, turning to Leona where she stood just ahead of Conn. Conn did not understand much of what he said, only that he mentioned dinner that evening.
Well, I'll just have to pray that we have some time alone after dinner.
Feeling more uncomfortable than he could have imagined, Conn followed Leona, her uncle and the silent, brooding Comte up the steps and back into the house.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FINAL PLANS
FINAL PLANS
The dusk was just starting to turn the shadows purple in the solar when Leona drifted in silently, the gray dress exchanged for one of soft blue. Her uncle was there already, dressed in a long black robe and seated at the head of the table. He smiled at her though his eyes were serious.
“Ah, my niece. You look beautiful. I trust you'd time to talk with your countryman?”
“Yes. Thank you, Uncle,” Leona said quietly.
“Not at all! Not at all. Do take a seat here by me. The count is momentarily occupied – I believe he will join us soon.”
Leona felt her blood drain to her feet as she sat at her uncle's left hand, the place that had become hers. She had been so excited about Conn that she had forgotten that he would be here too! How was she going to do this?
“My lord?” a thin voice said from the doorway behind her.
“Ah!” her uncle looked over her head to where the man stood on the threshold behind her. “Lord Count!”
Leona swiveled round, her heart feeling as if someone had hit her in the chest.
“My lady. Charming,” he said thinly. “You have spent time becoming reacquainted with your countryman, I think?” He walked in and took the seat beside her uncle, opposite her.
Leona swallowed hard. Was the change in her so clear? “It is good to have news of home, sir,” she said demurely. Let him not guess how I feel about Conn! If he knew, he might plot against him; Leona could sense he would not brook any rivals.
“I imagine so,” he said aridly. “My lord,” He turned to her uncle, voice changing, suddenly warming. “You promised us a fine meal this evening!”
“I did, indeed, Lord Count,” Uncle said cheerily. “We await only our Scottish guest. You say he speaks no French, niece?” he asked, worried.
“None, sir.”
Her uncle sighed. “Well, we must needs do what we can with gestures and signs.” He cast his eyes heavenward. “He speaks no English either? Nor Frankish?”
“Nothing like that, my lord,” Leona admitted.
The count of Annecy sighed again. “Well, we must call on you to translate, my dear. It is onerous, but so it is. Yes?”
“Yes,” Leona agreed. She touched the cordial in the goblet to her lips, glad it was not something stronger: she needed her head about her tonight. The Comte, opposite her, was giving her a hard-eyed look.
“You will allow this...arrival...to delay your departure to Cleremont?” he asked.
“I...” Leona hesitated, seeking composure. What could she say? She couldn't very well tell him she never intended to go with him in the first place! “I think my countryman's visit is not long,” she sidestepped.
“Oh,” the count frowned. “I take it then that it will not impact our plans?”
“No, my lord,” Leona said. It might impact yours, not mine.
“That is good.” He leaned back, seeming mollified.
They all sat in strained silence. The only sound in the room was the delicate drip of a water clock from the hallway, loud in the room's quietness.
Leona fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say. She plucked at a loose thread on her sleeve and glanced up at her uncle.
At that moment, someone entered the room. Leona heard nothing, but she saw the expressions of the two men change as they looked to the doorway.
“Good evening, milord.” Gaelic, lilting and pure. Leona felt her heart soar, hearing it, and that voice, now.
Her uncle's face settled into a mask of tense politeness. Guy Ferrand's face, in contrast, was crossed with a look of such hate that her blood chilled.
“Ah, Lord McNeil. Welcome, welcome!” Her uncle stood, waving his hand at the table. Leona's heart shivered as she saw the Comte slowly change from hate to a smooth blandness as her uncle waved Conn to sit beside him.
Leona stared at Conn. He was cleaner than before, his reddish hair gleaming as if recently washed and toweled dry, a clean white tunic covering his strongly-muscled form. He wore clean brown trousers and his green cloak looked as if it had been beaten clean of dust. He was stunningly handsome and she was sure anyone would notice that.
She glanced sideways at the Comte He was still glaring at Conn, eyes narrowed as he took in the whole of him. Leona felt herself shine with pride at the look of resentment on the man's face. He must feel qu
ite challenged by him.
“Welcome,” her uncle was saying to Conn, ever polite. “We had not been here a minute. Ferriers? Fetch our Scottish guest his soup, will you? Come, my lord. You can sit here, on my right.”
Leona watched as Conn settled himself into the seat beside the count of Cleremont. She compressed her lips into a thin line, suppressing the smile that sparked when Conn looked at the cutlery with a frown. Forks were of common use here in France, though in Scotland they used knife and spoon. Her eyes danced with amusement as she watched the look of puzzlement on his face.
“It is kind of you to offer me board, my lord,” he said to Leona's uncle.
Her uncle turned to her, the polite smile slightly frayed at the edges.
“Conn thanks you for the hospitality, Uncle Marc,” she said lightly. Both men looked relieved.
“Oh, no! It's nothing...” Her uncle dismissed it genially. “Now, here we are! Do try this.” He waved a hand at the soup, which Ferriers placed in front of Conn with a flourish.
Leona watched as Conn lifted the spoon from above his plate and looked to her for guidance. She lifted a mouthful and delicately sipped it off the ladle. He copied her.
“Delicious, my lord,” he said to her uncle, who smiled.
“I'm so glad. It's a delicate soup, this. Fish flavored with a new vegetable called carrot. It is a curious thing. A root vegetable from Spain, I believe. Have you heard of it?”
“No,” Leona said. She liked the taste, though – sweet and slightly similar to fennel. “It's very good.”
“I'm glad to hear it!” her uncle smiled. “Our head gardener is growing them. He showed me one and it quite put me off, I must admit. I'm glad I'd not seen it before I tasted it. Like a parsnip, but bright in color.”
“Most unusual,” Leona observed. She was watching Conn and the count.
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