“The road to Montsalvat leads no further,” Iolande noted, a challenge in her tone.
Dagobert thought the knight straightened a little.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “We make a census of all the lord’s chateaux for the king, that he might know the full extent of his vassalage.”
“We are vassals to Isam de Foix,” Iolande replied.
Dagobert watched warily, wondering if his mother pushed the knight overmuch.
“And thus to the king,” that man concluded. “Whether your allegiance be sworn directly or through another is of no import to me.” He shrugged, apparently too tired to pursue an argument. “Again, I would request your hospitality, my lady. We have ridden hard this day though the sun is yet high.”
“Of course,” Iolande conceded, as though there had never been any doubt. She clapped her hands for servants to make the men comfortable.
Dagobert knew he was not the only one who felt relief when the visiting knight bowed, then graciously offered Iolande his hand to escort her to the board.
“Oh, my lady, here you are!” The light was fading when Giselle ducked into the solar. The concern in the maid’s expression turned to relief when she spied her mistress.
“Aye, here I am and here I stay.” Alienor was certain she had not the wherewithal to face the household again this day.
“Would you not sup this evening, my lady?” Giselle asked, a hint of apology in her voice.
Alienor merely shook her head and returned to her work. Truly, joining the company below was the last thing she wished to do. Besides the greeting she was likely to receive, her stomach had been unsettled all day and she had no desire to eat at all, lest it be troubled further. When Giselle did not leave, she glanced up to meet the girl’s troubled gaze.
“I would request only a lamp when you have the chance.” She made the last stitch of gold into the crown and surveying her work. It needed rubies around the circlet, Alienor decided, digging in the basket of floss for a length of crimson silk. Rubies were a jewel of kings, after all. Was it not said that unicorns had a red carbuncle of great healing power embedded at the root of their horn?
“The board fairly groans with fine dishes to tease the palate,” Giselle said.
Alienor smiled at her. She was pleased when the girl smiled back and advanced into the solar. “Not this night, Giselle. I fear I have no taste for food.” She was so occupied with the shape and placement of the rubies she would stitch that she barely noted Giselle beside her.
“Oh, my lady, ’tis the loveliest banner ever I saw.”
“’Tis not done as yet,” she said, sensing the girl wanted to return to the festivities downstairs. “Please fetch me a lamp, lest crusading season be upon us and my lord be without a banner. Then I shall expect you to eat my share at the board this night.”
“Aye, my lady.” Giselle darted to the door, bobbing a curtsy before she glanced back. “My lord does not crusade, my lady,” she added softly.
Alienor looked up with surprise. What manner of knight had she wed?
“All knights crusade in these parts,” she said. Or they rode to war as mercenaries.
“Not my lord Dagobert,” Giselle said with conviction and admiration.
“Then the keep shall have a new banner,” Alienor said, still confused.
The girl seemed satisfied with that prospect but she smiled and curtseyed again, then disappeared, leaving Alienor alone again.
Did not crusade. Alienor decided upon oval rubies, like the cabochon stones she had glimpsed once embedded in a chalice at the monastery in Perpignan. A knight who did not partake of bloodshed readily and at every opportunity was a rare man indeed. She was unable to suppress a swell of pride that this rare man, a man of peace and prosperity, was hers.
Hers if she could but win him back. Alienor frowned and promptly stabbed the needle into her index finger beneath the cloth.
Dagobert carried the lamp carefully down the corridor to his mother’s solar. The silence in that chamber made him doubt Giselle’s word that Alienor was there. The shadows were falling long in the room and he hesitated in the doorway.
Then he caught sight of his wife seated on the window ledge, turning toward the fading light that she might have some illumination for her work.
She was a vision.
The red samite spilled over her olive green linen kirtle and the golden light from the sinking sun made her warm coloring even more exotic. The shadows made her lashes appear more luxuriant, and her lips more richly red. He stepped into the room and she started at his movement, her tawny eyes wide with surprise as she stared at him. She did not seem to breathe, but watched him like a doe about to fly.
“’Twas said you had need of a lamp,” he offered, the words sounding like an excuse for her company even to his own ears.
“Aye,” Alienor agreed simply, and stood, putting her work aside that she might come to him for the vessel filled with oil and wick. “I thank you for your trouble,” she said with soft formality. He noticed that she ensured their hands did not touch when she took the lamp. Nor did her gaze rise to his, and so great was her discomfort that he wondered whether he had misjudged her.
“Your presence in the hall has been missed this day,” he commented when he knew he should have left.
She cast a surprised glance over her shoulder. “I should think not.” Her conviction was as clear as her discontent.
It did not seem the manner of a traitor and Dagobert was intrigued.
Aye, it seemed the manner of a woman who had been treated unjustly.
Alienor placed the lamp down carefully on a chest and sat upon the ledge to take up her work again. This time, she leaned toward the lamp’s light.
“Why would you say such?” He braved the question, then almost took a step back at the hostile glare she slanted his way.
“I should think it clear that all know I have insulted my lord.” She bit out the words with such annoyance that Dagobert felt new optimism.
“Indeed?”
He was surprised when Alienor tossed her work aside abruptly and stalked toward him with intent in her eye. “Indeed?” she mimicked. “Do not jest with me. Do I truly seem so slow in intellect that I would fail to note the entire company holding me in disdain? ’Tis more than clear that all of you know the slight my lord endured last night and there is naught that I can do to make amends.” She flung out her hands. “What curious fascination you have in this keep with matters so intimate that should be shared only by husband and wife.” Without waiting for his reply, she pivoted and faced the window. She folded her arms across her chest and Dagobert thought he heard her catch her breath. “Would that I could take back that word,” she murmured.
’Twas all Dagobert could do not to fold her into his arms and console her. But he held fast, determined to be certain.
“What word?” he asked softly, and earned himself another glare.
“Do not make me say it,” she whispered fiercely.
“I would hear it from your own lips,” he countered, undeterred by the way she pursed her lips in dissatisfaction.
Was it possible that she did not know the truth?
If so, why would she have called the goatherd’s name?
He was tempted to believe that Alienor had some tender feelings for him as a man and not just a lover in the night. ’Twas almost too good to be true.
She studied her toe as if ’twere of great interest, then suddenly took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Surely you know that I called him by your name,” she confessed in a rush.
Dagobert wanted to kiss her breathless.
“Aye,” he admitted.
“You people and your curiosity!” she said with vexation. “Does your lord have no secrets from you?”
Dagobert permitted himself a grin. “But I know not when you called him by my name, my lady.”
To his delight, Alienor blushed scarlet.
“God in heaven,” she whispered, passing a hand over her eyes. “
’Twas a most inopportune moment.”
Dagobert could not help but laugh aloud.
She glared at him again. “You are a fine one to be so amused at your lord’s expense.”
“I cannot lie. It pleases me that you might have affection for me.”
Their gazes locked and held in that moment and he made no effort to hide his admiration of her. She swallowed and caught her breath, dropping her gaze and turning her back upon him. “You will make naught of this. You will forget it,” she said, but he heard the yearning in her voice. “I will not see him insulted by my actions.”
She was not only right but Dagobert admired her sense of honor.
He could not bear for her to be unhappy and wished only to make her smile again.
“I take it my lord was...vexed?” he asked in a teasing tone, lingering on the last word as if he could not choose one.
Alienor glanced over her shoulder, regarding him with astonishment. “Vexed?” she echoed softly, then her cheeks suffused with color. “Aye, my lord husband was vexed.”
“Did he raise a hand against you? Is that why you would hide this day?” Dagobert demanded with quiet heat, taking a step closer to her.
“Nay, nay, naught like that.” Alienor showed concern that he had apparently misjudged her husband and Dagobert admired her anew. “He would never lift a hand against me, I am sure of it. He is kindness itself.” She bit her bottom lip then, her hand rising to her lips as her next thought overcame her with emotion. “He merely left the chamber,” she admitted, her voice uneven. She took a breath. “He slept in the antechamber, alone, naked and without comfort, because I rewarded his goodness so poorly.” She fixed Dagobert with an imploring glance that shook him to his core. That expression alone would send him scaling mountains and fighting dragons.
“I fear he will not return to my bed,” she added quietly.
Dagobert almost proved her wrong then and there.
She sighed. “I fear I have injured his pride and will have no opportunity to make amends.”
“Perhaps you should speak with him,” he suggested and the hope in her glance made him continue quickly. “I believe you did thus once before and I trust all went well.”
Alienor smiled and her cheeks stained with a gentle flush. “Aye,” she admitted. “It did indeed work well enough.”
Dagobert breathed a silent sigh of relief, knowing that somehow the fates had smiled upon him and he had fulfilled her desire after that first night without even knowing what it was. He still wished he knew what she had asked of the goat.
“’Tis settled then and as good as done,” he concluded, extending his hand to her. “Would you sup this night, my lady?”
“In truth, I have little appetite,” she said, but Dagobert insisted, wanting to ensure she spoke to the goat this evening. Eustache would have much to say about the risk of him joining her with so many guests in the keep, but despite the risk, Dagobert meant to sleep with his bride.
“Lady Iolande has ordered fish prepared and a cassoulet,” he informed her, knowing how she loved the baked bean dish. Alienor hesitated, and seeing that she was tempted, he pressed his advantage. “A vegetable ratatouille with the first few herbs from the garden awaits you, my lady, and fresh berries from the coast.”
“Truly?” she demanded in surprise when he mentioned the fruit.
He beckoned to her with one finger. “You must see the repast for yourself.” His heart fairly stopped when she smiled.
“Aye, it seems I must.” She took his hand and let him usher her from the room. Dagobert retrieved the lamp, not wanting it to burn untended, and followed Alienor down the hall. He halted with surprise when she spun suddenly to address him.
“I would thank you,” she said quietly.
He wondered if he could truly drown in the golden depths of her spectacular eyes.
“I do not understand, my lady.” In truth, he understood little in this moment, and watched with fascination as she colored once more.
“You did not make me feel the fool for my error last night,” she explained. “’Twas most gallant and I would thank you for your kindness.”
To his complete shock, Alienor stretched on tiptoe and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Her flush deepened before she turned and fled his presence. Dagobert was left standing thunderstruck with a maelstrom of emotion raging in his heart, not knowing whether to let jealousy, pleasure or satisfaction win the day.
Alienor felt the weight of someone’s perusal upon her as she descended the stairs into the crowded hall. It was simple to spot the stranger who watched her from his place at the high table. His ebony hair was cropped short at the nape in the manner of knights, its waves sticking damply to his head. His dark gaze was intense, and his jaw and neck were reddened, perhaps as a result of the wine he had imbibed.
His bold stare was a mockery of convention and good manners, but no one rebuked him. Not for the first time Alienor wished that her husband could or would stand openly in his own keep, that he might defend her place in his household if not more. The addition of many fighting men to those who were routinely present gave the hall a noisy and raucous air, more like a disreputable tavern than the fortress of a lord.
Truly Alienor had waited too late to join the company, and she briefly considered turning back upstairs. Her stomach growled in discontent and she knew she had to eat. Iolande was not to be seen, and the ever-vigilant Eustache was deep in discussion with another knight attired in the same azure and gold as the rude one who studied her. Even Alaric had seemingly become lost on the stairs behind her.
Resolving that there was naught for it, Alienor strode across the room with a confidence she was far from feeling and took her place at the unicorn’s side. She steadfastly ignored the insolent knight’s gaze. She would eat quickly and return to the solar with all haste.
“My lady!” Giselle exclaimed with evident surprise from beside her elbow.
Alienor turned with a smile to find her maid’s eyes bright with wine, as well. “Alaric said there was cassoulet,” she explained over the din of the company. The girl nodded, expertly evading pinching fingers as she hurried to the kitchens to fetch food for her mistress.
The unicorn nuzzled against her knee and Alienor rubbed its chin, noting how similar in texture its silky beard was to the banner she worked upstairs. Would her spouse be pleased with her stitching? She could only hope ’twas so. Recalling her vow to talk to the unicorn, she bent down, freezing when she met the amused gaze of the knight who had been surveying her.
“And where has this tasty morsel been hidden away?” he asked with a smile
Alienor straightened with indignation but before she could form a reply, a cool hand rested lightly on her shoulder. She watched wariness light in the knight’s eyes.
“’Twould be most rude to devour my daughter-in-law, Chevalier Jordan,” Iolande said. One of that lady’s wolfhounds dropped to its haunches beside the two women, its gaze fixed steadily on the visiting knight.
“I meant no harm,” he said with outspread hands, lolling unsteadily back on his bench.
Alienor stifled the urge to tell him she knew he feigned the extent of his drunkenness.
She would have wagered her last silver denier that he was not the least bit drunk, despite appearances to the contrary. He was leery of the dog, though, and Alienor was glad. She patted the beast and met the knight’s gaze boldly for a moment.
Giselle appeared with Alienor’s meal and she thanked the maid. The food awakened a hunger she had not known she possessed and she ate with enthusiasm. Iolande strolled away when the knight seemed to have diverted his attention to his companions, but gave Alienor’s shoulder a pat of encouragement before she parted. The dog, of course, followed her.
The unicorn seemed hungry and Alienor fed it some of her trencher, smiling to herself as it licked her fingers with his blue tongue. Truly, she must find a moment to speak with the creature for she had no desire to sleep alone this night. She knew not what
sorcery permitted her husband to know what she told this beast, but it had worked before and she would try again. Her blood quickened at the thought of her husband keeping the chill of the early-spring air from her skin. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she jumped when the knight addressed her again.
“Tis you who are wed to the beast then,” he said. Alienor saw the assessment in his eyes of a perfectly sober and calculating man.
“Aye,” she answered, and took a deep draught of the red wine in her chalice.
“’Tis a sad waste that such a fine lady should be wed to a rutting goat.”
“’Tis a sad excuse for chivalry that such a rude boar ever earned his spurs,” she retorted.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said, apparently contrite. “’Tis the wine that loosens my tongue.”
“I think not.” Alienor was startled when the knight threw back his head and laughed. “I fail to see the humor in deceiving others.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, sobering with an immediacy that told her he was mocking her. “’Tis a rare woman who takes the time to look closely or has the intellect to understand a feint.”
Alienor turned back to her meal, certain she had heard enough from this man.
“Chevalier Jordan de Soissons,” he confided. His voice had softened and deepened, as if he meant to entice her. That tone might have brought many wenches to his bed, but it would not lure this one.
Alienor granted him a cold glance. “Alienor de Perpignan,” she replied, rising immediately to quit the hall. She was determined to give this man no more of her attention, for he had taken more than his due. Jordan rose to his feet and his hand landed on her elbow.
Alienor glared at the offending hand, then retreated when he did not lift it away.
The man was rude beyond belief.
“If you will excuse me,” she said, taking the unicorn’s tether and standing tall. Alienor had to acknowledge that she was learning much from Iolande and she almost smiled at the unexpected thought.
Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 9