“Surely, lad, you cannot be blind. Danielle is young, but she already grows to a greater beauty than even her mother possessed. Aye, she’s a spitfire, lad, but she’ll keep you intrigued, when your blood would cool from the hunger for a less vibrant lady. She’s young, but mind you, older than many a bride. Danielle is now thirteen, nearly fourteen. Philippa was but twelve when we wed. You needn’t marry for a few years, if that is your wish, but the betrothal will give you the power of regent over the lady and her land. And there’s more, naturally. The Earl of Glenwood, overlord to milady’s English holdings, is recently deceased of the plague, his wee babe and wife along with him. The title and holdings remain vacant, and those would be my gift to you upon such a betrothal.”
Adrien felt the blood drain from his body. Most men would crawl through broken glass and kiss the king’s feet for eternity to hear such words. Many men had begged the king for the hand of his French ward. Outside himself, looking upon the ragged boy his father had tried so hard to teach and train, this was an offer of power and wealth he had never imagined. The title of earl! What incredible riches and heritage he could pass onto the grandchildren of Carlin MacLachlan …
But he had sworn that he would wed another.
“I shall never again be offered such a great boon, your grace,” he said quietly, “but I must decline. You see, I love Joanna.”
“Bah, son! She is a dear friend! An advisor, a mentor, lad, but not for you. Adrien, I believe you are forgetting something.”
“Sire?”
“I am the king. I refuse you permission to wed Joanna.”
“Sire,” Adrien protested. “I have served you well—”
“And that is why we will say no more at the moment. Think on my offer—take the lady to the castle at Gariston. When we meet again, we will speak of it then. Make haste to leave this place now! There are more and more deaths being reported! The plague spreads wantonly here!”
With those words, the king hurried by him.
“I’ll be damned if I’ll do it!” Adrien promised the air in the king’s wake. “I do love Joanna!” He did, in his way, care for her with all his heart. She was his best friend. She was gentle, kind, beautiful, in truth, everything desirable in a wife.
While he was being offered a young spitfire who longed to gouge out his eyes. Lenore’s wild daughter. In his eyes, she remained too young for marriage, but she was already beautiful. Indeed, she was a young temptress just beginning to realize the power of her face and form, one who could dazzle, flirt, and manipulate when she chose, and make noble lads follow her about the castle with their tongues dragging upon the dirt. She was arrogant and superior. The greatest temptation in the king’s offer might well be the power to put the lady in her place.
How deeply dismayed she would be to find herself handed over to his keeping! Ah … tempting!
But she would spend her days despising him.
While Joanna loved him.
He had vowed to wed Joanna.
But he swallowed hard. To be an earl …
Chapter 6
THE DAY WAS BEAUTIFUL when at last they set out. For Adrien, however, it promised to be a tedious ride. He was accustomed to long marches, often over enemy territory, with foot soldiers and wagons trailing along as well. This was different. He rode with his squire, Daylin, a freckle-faced lad of fifteen eager to prove himself, and to serve as well. Ten of his men-at-arms accompanied them, along with another ten soldiers who had ridden in to do service from their young mistress’s own county of Gariston. Lady Jeanette and Monteine were with them, along with a seamstress and maids, a Doctor Coutin, who had been imported from Aville to continue to tutor the lady and administer to her and her household, and a French cook who had once served Danielle’s mother and was reputed to create sheer magic out of food. There were all manner of carts and wagons containing the lady’s belongings and those of her women. Although the ride should have taken no more than a day, it would take two since they were so heavily encumbered.
It didn’t seem to help that the young countess seemed as impatient as he to move along quickly. She rode a fine horse, a bay mare with a white splash on the forehead, nearly sixteen hands high but far more slender and elegant than the destriers Adrien was accustomed to. He was riding Matthew again, with Mark in tow along with the baggage—Luke and John remained at the palace at Westminster.
The old Roman roads, at least, were good. No heavy rains had fallen lately, and the paths were broad and clear. Adrien began leading the party, but became so preoccupied with his own thoughts that Danielle d’Aville soon rode ahead of him. Scowling, he urged Matt forward.
“My lady, an escort is intended to keep you from danger,” he told her.
“There’s no danger to be found in the countryside,” she assured him, not slowing in the least and barely turning her head to reply.
He gave Matt a nudge with his heels and came abreast of Danielle’s mare. “Cutthroats and thieves and creatures of evil design,” he told her sternly, “can be found anywhere, my lady.”
“I haven’t seen any,” she said coolly, “other than those who have been ordered to accompany me.”
“Milady, you cannot imagine what other evil creatures may exist, since you are traveling with an escort of armed men!”
“Then I would imagine that my escort of armed men could protect me riding five feet behind as easily as they might riding five feet forward.”
Ah, just once! Just once he’d love to have her over his knee! Just once …
He struggled fiercely for patience and control. “Get back behind me, my lady. And if you are even considering causing the least bit of trouble, remember, the king is no longer with us for you to hide behind, and I am in command.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she told him smoothly. “I would never hide behind the English king.”
“It was well that he came to your rescue when he did, my lady, or else you would have felt the force of my wrath.”
He was nearly abreast of her then and she turned her head back just slightly. Emerald eyes narrowed sharply, disdainfully. “You’d not have touched me, milord.”
“And why not?”
“I am a countess.”
“I am a count.”
“I am a ward of the king.”
“Ah! So, you are still trying to hide behind him!”
“I never hide behind anyone, milord.”
“If you don’t believe in hiding, then tell me the truth. Did you put the honey in my boots?”
She paused, giving the matter thought. “Aye, in a way. It was actually an accident.”
“Honey accidentally came to be in my boots?”
“Aye.”
“And pepper came accidentally to be in my wine?”
That startled her a bit, but she quickly recovered, “The pepper was quite a while ago. And it was not an accident. Nor do I keep it a secret that I consider you an enemy. You should have the good sense to stay away from me!”
“Why? I shall simply put pepper in your milk and honey in your bed, and a sound hand upon your noble little derrière if you cause me any more difficulty.”
“Oh, you will have more difficulty!” she assured him.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because it’s your fault I’m here now!” she exclaimed furiously.
“I beg your pardon—”
“Aville is a wonderful fortress, a great fortress! My mother could have held out until Philip could come to her rescue if it hadn’t been for you.”
She knew her history well. “You weren’t there at the time, milady.”
“No, but I know that you caused the fall of Aville and found the king’s favor in the destruction of my home.”
“Your home was never destroyed and you must surely be aware of that. The king ordered no retaliation against your mother or the town at all.”
“He made her his prisoner and forced her back to England!”
“And she married your father there, and was allowed to return home a
nd govern Aville again after Robert’s death!”
She was not appeased. She stared straight ahead as they rode, emerald eyes flashing. “None of it would have happened at all if you hadn’t made the fortress fall—”
“Sweet Jesu, cease!” he cried in sudden aggravation. “You saw the siege of Calais. It is far more merciful when a stronghold is taken quickly. Had a siege continued for any length of time, many more would have starved and died at Aville. And, my dear young wretched one,” he added, his temper wearing thin, “perhaps it’s time to think about this—your home is really here! You were born in London. Your father was a loved and favored servant of the English king—”
“And my mother was a cousin to the French king.”
“Distant cousin.”
She waved a hand in the air. It was no matter. “I am of the house of Valois. And Aville would have remained so. You alone brought about the fall of the fortress.”
“I alone? The king and many brave men would be quite offended by such a statement. I was a boy—”
“You chose to make your way through the defeat of my mother and my people. You forced her to become the king’s prisoner, and he tortured her, and when he was done there he dragged her back here—”
“Dear God, give me patience! Lenore was never tortured, and I don’t believe she ever told you such a thing! And perhaps you should remember, just for good measure, that it was your father who asked as he died that the King of England be your godfather!”
“Sir, you will not change my feelings on this matter. My mother died reminding me that I must honor my king. I do not care to ride with you.”
“If you fall back and allow me to lead, you will not exactly be riding with me. And bear in mind, I am the one sent to do a wretched duty here!”
She muttered something impatiently about what he should do with himself. Rather shocking language for a young countess, and Adrien imagined she had learned it spending time with the young princes and their men-at-arms.
She started to move away from him but he caught her horse’s bridle, stopping her, grinning suddenly. “Think on this! Had it not been for me, milady, you might not even exist! For you are a mixture of French and English whether you wish to admit it or not, and would not be at all had Aville not fallen.”
“Then I’d still not be subjected to you!” she hissed.
“Don’t be subjected then, Countess. Fall back now!”
“I am trying to do so!”
He released his grasp upon her mare’s reins. She did not just fall back. She swung her mare around in a sharp turn, riding back to fall in place toward the center of the line with Doctor Coutin.
Adrien looked up to the sky, amazed to see that it remained clear, that it was still a beautiful day. It felt as if his entire body was in knots. His fingers were like iron around his reins. Ah, if Joanna were but with him!
Dusk began to fall. Gentle colors to combat his mood filled the sky. They came to Hendon, where they would stay the night. Sir Richard Aisling, the king’s appointed sheriff there, strode worriedly out to the courtyard to greet them.
A slim, grave old man, Sir Richard greeted him with courteous enthusiasm, then asked worriedly, “None stricken among you?” He crossed himself. “Praise God, but we have escaped the Black Death so far, and though I’d not deny the king or wish any ill upon the poor little countess—” He broke off. Adrien realized that the old gent was staring at Danielle, who had now ridden up beside him. “Why, she’s quite the lady, isn’t she?” he murmured, then collected himself and bowed deeply to Adrien.
Irritated, Adrien leapt down from his horse. He helped Danielle dismount—despite the fact that she didn’t want his help.
Then he turned to Sir Richard. “No—none of us has the least touch of fever, and indeed, I am anxious to keep the countess safe and well myself.”
Sir Richard sighed and managed a smile. “Then come in, come in, bring the lady and her women into the manor. Your men may find their meals and lodging in the stables and cottages yonder. Darby!” he shouted out, calling to a young groom. “See to these good fellows, and the horses, too, lad, for the night’s rest. Milord MacLachlan, Countess Danielle, if you will follow me, please.”
They followed Sir Richard into the manor, where a meal awaited them on the table in the hall.
It was a pleasant, clean place, with sweet-smelling rushes, a crisply burning fire, and the appetizing smell of well-roasted meat. Adrien was pleased to see that Danielle’s manner to him before Sir Richard was courteous, if cool. They shared a small, intimate meal and Adrien found himself watching Danielle as they dined, startled to realize that to many a man, she would indeed be a prize. She ate delicately. Her hands were small, with long, elegant fingers and pretty, rounded nails. Her eyes sparkled with her words, her laughter was melodic. She had chosen to enchant Sir Richard. By the time they finished the meal, in fact, Sir Richard was all but convinced that King Philip of France was a poor, maligned fellow, and that they should cease all actions against the French.
Adrien found himself on his feet. “I think it’s time the young countess headed to bed, Sir Richard. I want to get an early start in the morning. I wouldn’t want her sleeping in the saddle, nor would I want to carry her all the way.”
Danielle, of course, was instantly on her feet. “You needn’t fear, Milord MacLachlan. You’ll not be carrying me anywhere. Sir Richard, I thank you for your hospitality, and I bid you good night!” She made a wonderfully grand exit.
When she had gone, Adrien excused himself. “I need to get some sleep as well, Sir Richard. I am anxious to reach Gariston, for I am even more anxious to return from it and see to the welfare of a friend in these very troubled times.”
“Troubled, indeed!” Sir Richard lamented, crossing himself. “It is dreadful—each day the death toll soars higher and higher … England may well be decimated if this plague continues to strike so ruthlessly!”
Adrien should have slept well. He’d enjoyed a fine dinner and gone to bed weary, but he tossed and turned all night and awoke feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all.
He rose, washed and dressed, then summoned Daylin and told his squire to make sure that Danielle was roused and ready to ride along with her ladies.
“The countess is up and in the courtyard, milord. And I’ve saddled Mark for you today,” Daylin told him, helping him with his mantle. “The men await your word to mount up and begin the journey.”
“Good. We shall bid Sir Richard thank you and good day, and be gone,” Adrien said, exiting his chamber to a narrow corridor, and from there down the steps to the empty great hall and then out to the courtyard beyond.
As Daylin had told him, his entourage was assembled. Danielle sat upon her mare, apparently serene. He thanked Sir Richard and inclined his head to Danielle. “Are you ready, milady?”
“Most assuredly, milord.”
She seemed anxious, even in a good, if mischievous, mood. Adrien lifted a hand in final salute to Sir Richard, and their entourage started out, snake-like and slow, leaving the manor behind them.
Adrien rode at the fore, half closing his eyes, letting Mark move along at a steady pace.
Perhaps an hour or so after they had begun, he became aware that Danielle was abreast of him, moving ahead of him. They came upon a rich expanse of field, and she uttered a little cry of delight and nudged her heels strongly to her mare’s sides.
The horse leapt forward and began to run, smooth and sleek, elegant and fast as the wind.
Adrien swore softly and took off after her. No matter what he said, she didn’t seem to realize that there might be dangers awaiting her.
He had all but caught her when he suddenly realized that something was amiss. The girth upon his saddle was loose, so much so that even as he raced, the seat was giving. In seconds, he would be thrown off along with it—and trampled beneath the heavy hooves of his great war horse. Swearing, he threw himself against Mark’s neck, arms wrapping around it. Just in time. The saddle ga
ve.
And was trampled beneath him as they raced on.
He slid to the horse’s back once again, reining in as Daylin anxiously rode abreast of him.
“Milord—”
“I’m fine! Have the others wait here until I return. I am going for the countess!”
He raced on ahead, so angry that there seemed to be an explosion of red swimming within his head. He caught her just as she neared a new forest to encompass the old Roman road. She turned back, startled and alarmed by his appearance.
As well she should be.
“What—” she gasped to him as he rode down hard on her. She backed her horse carefully away, but not quickly enough. He leapt from his own and grabbed her mare’s reins, holding the animal still.
“What!” he roared. “Pepper is one thing, milady. It causes a cough. Honey in a man’s boots is an irritating inconvenience. But this time, my wretched little witch, you came damned near to killing me!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“But you do.”
“I’m telling you—”
“My saddle!” he hissed furiously, and then he had her. Reaching up, he caught her around the waist and dragged her down.
“I didn’t touch your saddle,” she said scornfully, gritting her teeth as she stood stiff against his hold.
“Daylin knows how to secure one, milady. And since you readily admit your mischief—”
“Mischief I admit when I am guilty!” she retorted.
“Unless you realize that you are finally about to pay the price for it.”
“Get your hands off of me!”
“Not this time! Milady.”
She protested, wildly struggling against him. “Let go of me this very second or I shall see that the king—”
“If the king were to hang me from the highest tree for my intent, milady, it would not sway me from it now!”
He was incensed. His heart still pounded from his near plummet from his horse’s back, and he was determined. There was a tree stump five feet away and he strode to it, dragging her with him as he sat, then pulling her irrevocably down over his knee, despite her desperate struggles to free herself and pummel him in return. Within seconds he had landed a good number of sound whacks upon her very French derrière. He was barely aware of her cries and shrieks of vengeance and fury. He didn’t even stop to think until he felt her perfect teeth biting into his thigh and then he gave her his hardest whack of all, one that caused her to cry out—and cease trying to bite. He became aware then, of her person. Of the lush, tempting curves, her sweet scent. Startled, he set her back on her feet and rose, walking toward her with menace as she backed away from him, then stood dead still and defiant. He pointed a finger at her, keeping his voice harsh with anger. “Not another prank. Not a single little thing, not a one, to be done against me, do you understand?”
Heather Graham Page 10