All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances

by Claire Delacroix

  “It was unjust.”

  “You are not surprised.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Tell me more,” he invited, knowing there had to be.

  Melissande cleared her throat and spoke with greater vigor. “When my parents died, your father began his campaign to forcibly join our two estates. When Tulley protested, Jerome became more subtle. He moved border markers. He stole the harvest and seed for sowing from our barns. He stole livestock, though it could not be proven beyond doubt, and he hunted in Annossy’s forests without my consent.” She shook her head. “I thought my woes over at last when he died, but the attacks on Annossy still continue.”

  “Though on a different border.”

  She flicked a glance at him. “Aye, closer to the mountains. The ford near the mill seems to be where the brigands cross into Annossy.” She eyed him. “But Jerome is dead. Annossy remains plagued. I know that if Yves has secretly returned, he would not do these deeds. He is honorable. If he was starving, he would come to Annossy’s gates and offer his service in exchange for food and shelter. But now you have returned to claim your father’s land and legacy.” She took a breath. “And I do not know precisely when you returned to Tulley.”

  “My comrades told of our coming through the pass a fortnight before them.”

  “Your comrades.”

  Their gazes locked for a long moment. There was accusation in her eyes that Quinn longed to erase. It burned within him that she thought he was like his father.

  It was irksome that she accepted that his brother Yves was not.

  “I am different,” he said. “Give me the chance to show you.”

  Her expression turned weary. “I have known you less than a day, Quinn de Sayerne. I have been commanded to wed you. I have been bedded by you. You have been granted the seal to my family holding and you stand this night within my chamber, invited by me.” She sighed. “It is as if my days and nights of labor here, for the good of this place, never occurred. And now my sole merit will rest upon whether or not I bear you a son, within a year. I am irrelevant, as irrelevant as my history, my hopes and my dreams, and I fear that my womb might be too reluctant for Tulley’s satisfaction. My parents were wed three years before my birth, and their match was merry. Their lack of conception cannot be due to a lack of conviviality.” She frowned and looked much less formidable than she had. “Would you not be discontent in my place?”

  “You are not irrelevant! You are my wife and the heiress of Annossy...”

  “Do not pretend to be a fool, Quinn,” she said, interrupting him with a bitterness that surprised him. “Should I not bear you a son within a year, Tulley will support your desire to put me aside in favor of a more fertile wife.”

  Quinn could make no sense of that. “But he insisted on seeing the linens.”

  “And he kept them,” Melissande reminded him. “All the better that he could see them destroyed if there was cause to have this match annulled.”

  Quinn stared at her in shock. He had never imagined such treachery.

  Melissande shook her head. “Do not imagine that Tulley does not see to his own advantage above all else.” She plucked at the ends of her veil. “So, do as you must, this night and every other. Naught is left for me to decide any longer. I am at the whim of Dame Fortune, though I cannot like it.”

  Quinn had never seen Melissande despondent and he did not care for the sight. She had battled him and defied him and matched wits with him. She had challenged him and she had met his passion with her own. He could not bear to see her so defeated.

  Perhaps it was exhaustion.

  Indeed, he felt sympathy for her for there was truth in her accusations. Much had changed for both of them in the past day, and the changes were to his advantage. He believed that they would both share in that good fortune, but his father’s legacy was that she did not.

  He disliked the tale of her beloved nursemaid and wished it had surprised him. Did she expect him to strike her? Quinn could not imagine doing so, but he respected that his lady wife—who had infuriated him already—might have her doubts.

  She thought his half-brother had merit. Could he convince her that he did, as well?

  To change Melissande’s thinking, he had to challenge her expectations.

  He had to surprise her.

  “Shall I send Berthe for you?” he asked, tucking the seal back into the pouch at his belt. Melissande glanced his way with obvious surprise. The sound of laughter carried from the hall below and Quinn pretended to be enticed by it. “I would rejoin my comrades and hear of their adventures since we parted, but I would not insult you with my absence.”

  “What is this?”

  “Choose,” Quinn said deliberately. “Choose, my lady, whether I stay with you in this moment or leave you alone. You say you have no decisions to make, so I will grant you one.”

  “Just one,” she said.

  “Just one, for the moment. But when you have none, one is a bounty.”

  She smiled reluctantly, as if she could not stop herself. “It is indeed.”

  “And Berthe?”

  She held up two fingers and that smile gained power. “Another choice?”

  “A veritable feast of opportunity,” Quinn said solemnly and her eyes sparkled.

  “Aye, Berthe, if you please, sir.”

  “A bath?”

  Melissande laughed a little. “A plethora of decisions,” she said and Quinn chuckled, glad of a moment of accord. “Aye, a bath would be most welcome,” she said. “I am sorry, my lord husband. It is not like me to lose hope.”

  He cleared his throat and lifted a brow, inviting her to use his name again.

  “I am sorry, Quinn,” she said softly and he smiled.

  “But you have lost much in this, a mere day, and I should be surprised if you did not notice the lack. Annossy is fine beyond all expectation. I would have you sleep well, my lady wife, for I shall have need of your counsel to see all administered well here.”

  She considered him again. “I thought you simply said as much for Louis’ benefit.”

  “I said as much because it is true. I did not even think of what our guests should eat or drink, never mind where they would sleep. I have much to learn from you, Melissande, and I would hope that you would see your way clear to granting instruction.”

  Their gazes locked once more, the chamber seeming warmer than it had. “You try to beguile me,” she said quietly.

  “If only that feat could be so easily done,” Quinn replied. He bowed, then turned to the door, only to find Melissande by his side, her hand upon his arm.

  “I do not know whether to trust you or not,” she confessed. “I do not know what my place or my fate with be, but I thank you, Quinn, for the kindness of choices on this night.” With that, she stretched up and touched her lips all too briefly to his. Quinn caught his breath at her fleeting touch, amazed that she had kissed him of her own volition, but she had already stepped away. He watched her retreat and dared to hope for their future.

  Then he left the chamber, shouting for Berthe from the corridor.

  It seemed he had found a way to gain some increment of his wife’s affection and Quinn could only consider that a victory of the first order. No doubt the fire would be back in her eyes by the morning, but truly, he looked forward to that moment.

  “A bath for your lady, if you please,” he said to the maid when she came bustling up the stairs. “She is tired from the journey this day.”

  “And one for you, sir?” Berthe demanded.

  “I will share the company of our guests for a while.” Quinn nodded once, noting the assessment in the maid’s eyes, then returned to his fellows. His appearance was greeted with a cheer and some teasing, but he called for a cup of ale and settled at the board again, most content.

  Not every triumph could be achieved with haste, and in Quinn’s view, the richer prizes took time and strategy to conquer. Winning his lady’s heart and her trust would be the greatest victory of all and
he was prepared to labor for it.

  Quinn had left.

  He had given her a choice.

  Melissande was astonished, but then, he had surprised her before. She heard the roar of greeting from his companions in the hall below, and smiled that he was held in such affection, then Berthe was at the door.

  “My lord Quinn says you desire a bath, my lady.”

  “Indeed, I do.”

  Berthe sniffed. “Yet he does not so indulge.” She shook her head as she untied the laces on the sides of Melissande’s kirtle. “It is not right. A man should be clean when he comes to his wife’s bed as a sign of respect...”

  “I am not certain he comes to me this night,” Melissande said, a statement so shocking that it silenced her maid momentarily. She smiled at the younger woman. “I confessed myself to be tired, and he made to resolve the matter, by summoning you and a bath.”

  “And joining his companions,” Berthe said.

  “He wished to learn of their adventures, as well,” Melissande said mildly. She took off her boots and her stockings, then Berthe ushered her toward the bed.

  “Be warm, my lady, while I make all ready for you.” She bustled around the chamber, stirring up the coals in the brazier, then hurried away. Melissande unbound her hair and combed it out, thinking of the heated glow of Quinn’s amber eyes.

  She thought of his resolve to defeat the brigands and realized that she trusted him to accomplish that. Then she considered how she might be of aid to him.

  What if she took him at his word?

  Melissande found herself straining for the sound of Quinn’s voice when the door opened anew. The tub was brought into the chamber and filled with steaming water. Berthe added herbs and soon the solar was warm with steam and the scent of lavender. “It will ensure that you sleep, my lady,” Berthe said.

  “My lord will ride out to the mill on the morrow,” Melissande said as she stepped into the bath water. “It is possible that he will leave early, Berthe. Please ensure that I am awakened in time to offer him a stirrup cup.”

  “He does not ride far, my lady. It is not necessary.”

  “Aye, but I think it is. I would have all at Annossy see that I support him as lord.”

  “Aye, my lady. It shall be so.”

  Melissande settled into the bath with a sigh of contentment and wondered at her new spouse. She smiled as he laughed at some jest in the hall, the rich sound of his merriment making her warm inside.

  Perhaps she softened too much, for it was merely a night’s sleep and a bath he offered. Melissande felt her resistance to her new husband crumble even so.

  Then she realized that he had ensured she could not talk to Gaultier this night.

  Melissande’s eyes flew open and she almost sat up in the bath. Had that been Quinn’s intent? Had he been right about Gaultier’s reaction? Or had the two knights met before?

  Was there some detail that Quinn did not wish her to learn?

  Once she had the thought that Quinn might have been trying to steer her thoughts in his favor, Melissande could not dismiss it.

  How irksome that she had to wait until morning to confer with Annossy’s Captain of the Guard.

  But once Quinn rode to the mill, she would have ample opportunity for a private discussion with Gaultier.

  By this time on the morrow, she would know the truth.

  Berthe descended to the hall on her quest for her lady. It was strange to see so many knights in Annossy’s hall, and she did not like the change. It would have been one matter if she could have been certain of their intentions, but they were strangers, as well as allied with the new lord. Berthe could not dismiss a very similar suspicion to that held by her lady, that these knights might take from Annossy to see Sayerne enriched.

  While Lord Quinn and his companions seemed merry, Berthe noted the resolve that often touched their gazes. They were men of war, men who would not hesitate to mete justice with their blades.

  She hoped against hope that she would never have to battle with any of them.

  Especially that Bayard. He was trouble to be sure.

  Even as she arrived, he was teasing Lord Quinn.

  “Surely you do not forgo your marital due on your first night at Annossy?” that knight demanded with a conviviality born of good ale.

  Berthe bristled. Lord Quinn had been considerate of her lady and she admired him for that.

  “Ah, I just wanted to taste the ale,” Lord Quinn said as Michel placed a filled tankard before him. “I had not the fortune to do so earlier.”

  “For you drank Annossy’s wine instead,” one of the knights, Amaury, teased.

  “And it was fine indeed. I have high hopes for the ale.” Lord Quinn lifted the tankard to his lips.

  “Surely you do not choose our company over your lady’s charms,” insisted Bayard.

  “My lady has need of her rest this night,” Lord Quinn said firmly. He raised his tankard to Berthe to salute her. “And the attentions of her loyal maid.”

  The men turned to look at her and Berthe bowed for Annossy’s new lord even as she felt her cheeks heat. “I think this a fine acknowledgment for a man to make for his wife,” she said and granted Lord Quinn an approving smile. “I’m glad to see that some men understand how to treat a lady with respect.”

  “I should think a lady charged to bear an heir with all haste would welcome her lord husband to her bed to ensure that goal was accomplished,” Bayard said.

  “And you, Sir Rogue, would indulge in that quest?” she demanded.

  He grinned, more handsome than should be permitted. “Aye! I would plunder my lady’s charms and leave her smiling in the morn.”

  “And what of the child?” Berthe demanded. “I suspect that a man of your ilk cares only for his pleasure. You would like be gone in the morn.”

  “And why should he not be?” the fair knight demanded. Niall was his name, Berthe believed, and she thought him much enamored of his own charms. “A night of pleasure is well and good in itself.”

  “A rogue and a scoundrel,” Berthe scoffed. “I expect naught better from the likes of you.”

  “And you shall find you better, my pretty maid,” Niall said, lifting his tankard to her. He winked and Berthe turned away from him. “You know where to find me if your curiosity has the better of you.”

  “I shall not!” Berthe fired a glance at Bayard and their gazes held for a long moment. He was most serious and if she had not known better, she might have thought him insulted by his companion’s words to her. “Nor will I seek you, Sir Rogue,” she added with disapproval and that knight smiled just a little before he developed a keen interest in his ale.

  Berthe told herself that she did not care if the newly arrived knights bedded all the maidens in Annossy.

  Although she hoped Sir Rogue did not.

  “My lord, my lady would offer you a stirrup cup on the morrow when you depart,” she said to Lord Quinn. “I would ask that you see me roused when you prepare to ride out, that I might summon her.”

  Lord Quinn blinked, as if surprised, and seemed to bite back a smile. “It is not necessary.”

  “My lady says it is, sir.”

  “I will see you roused,” Niall whispered, but Berthe stood straighter as the other knights chuckled. “Or better yet, awake all the night long.” She felt her cheeks heat but she would not so much as glance at that man.

  Bayard said something and began to rise to his feet, and the others teased him.

  Lord Quinn looked between them, quelling them with a glance, then shook his head. “I will not, Berthe. It will be too early, for I mean to ride out early. Louis will bring those with tales to share after I break my fast, then we shall visit the mill.”

  “But my lady requests...”

  “And your lord commands,” he said with such quiet force that she fell silent. He held her gaze. “You know as well as I that dawn will be too early to rouse her. These past days have been a challenge for her.”

  Berthe h
esitated. She knew that Lady Melissande did not like to have her commands questioned, yet she was herself bound to obey the Lord d’Annossy.

  “I will tell her of my command, Berthe,” he said, clearly seeing her uncertainty. “You will not be left to face my lady’s wrath alone.”

  “My lady knows her mind, sir.”

  “And I know mine. As my wife, she is my responsibility. I would see her linger abed on the morrow.”

  There was such resolve in his tone that Berthe knew he would not be shaken.

  “She will not be pleased, sir,” she dared to say.

  Against all expectation, he smiled. “I shall welcome the discussion, Berthe.”

  She marveled at that, then thought of the arguments she had already overheard between the pair. It seemed that he was untroubled that her lady had views of her own, and indeed, she had seen him invite Lady Melissande’s council.

  She bowed low, knowing she had no choice but to do as instructed, and hoped that he truly did have his lady’s best interests at heart. It would not be all bad for Annossy to have a happily wed lord and lady, much less children in the hall.

  “Do not tell her, Berthe. Not this night.”

  “She may ask, my lord.”

  His gaze was steely. “And you will not tell her of my plan. I will do so.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “Perhaps it is wise for a man to keep his lady wife abed,” Niall murmured when Berthe passed him and she paused to glare at him. “Especially when he has need of a son with all haste. They say that any woman can be tamed with pleasure.” He was watching her, his eyes dancing with devilry.

  “You may rest assured that it is not unnatural, but civilized for a man to show a care for his lady wife,” she informed him haughtily. “Should you heed your companion instead of your lust, you might learn something of merit.”

  “I have no need to learn of proper treatment of a wife,” Bayard contributed. “For I do not have one.”

  “Nor will you, if you continue to listen to that one, and a fine thing that will be for women everywhere,” Berthe informed him.

  Bayard blinked in surprise at that, but she turned away, marching to the kitchens. The sound of his companions’ laughter echoed behind her but Berthe did not smile.