Bayard bowed and retreated, the men behind him. Gaultier gave her an intent look, which she ignored, then spun to follow the three of them with quick steps.
“Audacity,” Berthe whispered though Melissande did not know whether she meant Bayard’s message to her or his refusal to acknowledge her presence. She was staring after the men, bright spots of color burning in her cheeks, and her fists were clenched at her sides.
Perhaps Melissande did know what infuriated her maid.
“Do you remember where I left my embroidery needles?” she asked pointedly. “This hem should be mended before my lord’s return.”
Berthe spun away, then stamped up the stairs. Her passage was audible the entire way to the solar and back again, though her temper might have been slightly improved by her return.
“A lantern, if you please,” Melissande said quietly when the maid might have said more. The hall was falling dark as it always did after noon, for the rays of the afternoon sun did not come through the few windows. Berthe hastened to fetch a lantern and had the boys stir up the fire as Melissande settled to her mending.
Quinn had replaced the men assigned by Gaultier with his own comrades. That was just as Gaultier had predicted. He might simply intend to push her aside and take her place in the administration of Annossy. That would be sufficiently harsh to trouble Melissande. She frowned and wondered what course she could possibly take that would both fulfill her obligations as her father’s daughter and Quinn’s wife.
All paths led back to the conception of a child.
But what would she sacrifice herself if she surrendered repeatedly to Quinn’s touch? She had no desire to become an ornament or a brood mare or wanton who hungered for her husband’s attention abed. She scowled at the cloth and worked fiercely, stabbing her finger more than once due to her lack of expertise.
If this was to be her life, she had best become accustomed to it.
She did not, however, have to like it.
The shadows were longer when there was a roar of greeting in the bailey and the sound of horses once more. Melissande rose to her feet and smoothed her skirt, her heart skipping at the sound of Quinn’s voice. He laughed aloud and she found her lips curving, so complete was the spell he had cast upon her.
Intrigued by what might make her husband so merry, she left the board and went to the portal. Her breath caught at the sight of Quinn, his eyes flashing gold fire as he laughed. He had a deer slung over the back of his saddle, while Amaury had two bunches of pheasants bound to his. Both destriers’ nostrils were flaring, but the creatures held their ground, more accustomed to the scent of blood than was often the case with horses. Louis was clapping his hands, calling for boys from the kitchen to take the kill, and it was clear that Quinn had secured his popularity with this deed. Someone jested at the size of the stag he had felled and Quinn turned to help remove it from behind the saddle.
He looked so vital and masculine, so at ease and powerful, that Melissande could not tear her gaze away from him. Indeed, her mouth went dry and she tingled anew in recollection of what they had done abed. She had become hungry for his touch and, worse, she could not regret it.
Amaury held up a hand. “I confess that I but followed behind and gathered the kill,” he said to those who gathered around. “’Twas Quinn who hunted with such success this day.”
“He is too modest,” Quinn protested, then surrendered a crossbow to his companion. “His aim is true as might be expected of one carrying such a fine weapon.” There was a joyous shout at that and Quinn shook hands with those who pushed close to congratulate him. He laughed at a word from the smith, then asked that man a question. The smith indicated the miller’s son on the far side of the bailey, the one who had become his apprentice, and she guessed that Quinn had spoken to the miller about his family.
Then he turned, as if he had felt her gaze upon him.
Melissande might have been struck to stone as his gaze locked with hers. Then Quinn smiled, a slow potent smile that heated her blood to a simmer, and she felt as if they were alone in the bailey.
“What else could I do?” he asked those surrounding him without looking away. “My lady wife told me this morn that we had need of meat for the board. Her will is as my command.” And he bowed to her, his gesture making her cheeks heat and the villeins laugh.
Melissande could not think of a single word to say.
Quinn strode to her side, doffing his gloves, and paused beside her on the threshold. His eyes glittered and she fairly sensed his anticipation. “All is well at the mill?” she asked quietly, recalling their responsibilities.
“I believe it will be,” he replied in kind.
“You dismissed the guards that Gaultier assigned to defend the mill.”
“I did not trust them.”
Melissande parted her lips then closed them again.
Quinn smiled. “And you do not trust me. You need not say the words to make your concerns known to me, my lady.”
She felt herself flushing but could not be silent. “I do not know your intentions or much of your history...”
“And I did not know theirs. I learned long ago, my lady, to trust my instincts when it came to entrusting other men.” He shook his head as she watched him. “There was something amiss, though I cannot name it. For the sake of the miller and his kin, I chose to be cautious. They have lost a son already.”
“Aye.” Melissande could not fault him for that choice, or for the sympathy in his gaze.
“But I would seek your advice in this matter, my lady.”
“Mine?”
“Yours.” His gaze clung to hers. “You know Annossy as no other, my lady,” he murmured, his voice no less intent that his expression. “Have you not discerned that this is a challenge we must conquer together?”
“And then what?” she dared to ask.
Quinn smiled. “And then, we shall conquer another.” He caught her hand in his and bent over it, kissing its back with a flourish.
Melissande felt a tumult inside herself and stepped back, retreating from his persuasive touch. “Berthe found my father’s tabard and cloak,” she said, her words falling in an uncharacteristic rush. “Perhaps both will suit you. And Michel has taken some of my father’s chemises for you.”
“I thank you, even though you will not meet my gaze when you speak of these garments.” He spoke in that thoughtful tone and she found her cheeks burning again. Quinn touched her chin, compelling her to look up. He studied her and she feared he could see all her doubts.
“I did not realize the tabard was yet here,” she admitted. “I thought it buried with him. And I forgot about the cloak.”
“And you do not wish me to claim them?” he asked, no judgment in his tone.
“That would be impractical. They go to waste, left in a trunk.”
Quinn shook his head. “They are the root of fond memory, Melissande,” he said with soft heat. “I would not influence that.”
It was curious to have him be the one who understood her emotions so well, but Melissande had been taught to avoid sentimentality. “You should wear them,” she found herself saying. “’Tis only right.”
“If you truly believe as much,” he said and touched his lips to her brow. She shivered to her toes, but with desire instead of cold. Quinn smiled as he looked down at her. “Your eyes have darkened, my lady,” he said lightly. “Is it possible that you will have an invitation for me this night?”
Melissande caught her breath and turned away, despising her own weakness. A kiss, a murmured confidence, a little understanding, and she was prepared to grant him all.
Perhaps women truly were weaker.
Quinn was not readily deterred. He claimed her elbow and entered the hall with her. Melissande found it reassuring to have his heat so close behind her back and was belatedly aware of how many watched them together. She led him to the board, where she had finished her mending, his touch making her feel skittish.
“I think the tabard
will fit you, for my father was broad of shoulder as well, and the insignia is already upon it. The cloak will keep you warmer than that worn one you have...”
As had so often been his wont, he silenced her with a fingertip. This time, he planted it upon the back of her hand, where she touched the tabard. “Who did this needlework?” he asked softly.
Melissande took a breath. “My mother.”
“And your father wore it?”
She nodded, then felt Quinn’s arm slide around her waist. He stood behind her and bent so that his lips were close to her ear.
“Tell me,” he invited.
“There is naught to tell. They are garments, no longer used. You should wear them.”
There was silence for a long moment. “You must feel as if everything that belonged to your father now comes to me.”
She straightened but did not speak.
“You must feel that to be unjust.”
“It is not my place to feel it to be just or unjust,” she said, her voice more sharp than she had intended. “I am only a daughter, a mere woman and a vessel. My sole merit lies in my womb.”
“Nay.” Quinn spoke with such conviction that she had to look up. She found him watching her, his gaze warm, a smile of admiration upon his lips. “You have so much merit, my lady wife, that I fear I do not deserve to have your hand in mine. I am pledged to earn your regard, no matter what the price, for I know that if we were truly allies, naught would obstruct our path.”
She stared into his eyes, wanting to believe him, then called herself a fool and turned away. “You say that to encourage an invitation,” she accused and he laughed heartily.
Despite herself, she loved the sound.
“If that were true, it would be no flaw,” he said. “Each night, I am more in your thrall, and I cannot regret it.”
Melissande looked back in surprise and Quinn smiled at her. Her resistance to him wavered anew and she feared that she would capitulate completely—in less than three days. What fortitude did she possess to withstand a siege? Not much in the end.
“I have my courses,” she lied on impulse, marveling all the while that he could make her forget herself so readily. “I would sleep alone this night.”
“But you will not bar the door against me,” Quinn said with conviction.
“What is this?”
He leaned closer and she saw again that resolve in his gaze. “I will watch the mill from that vantage point. Success against these brigands may rely upon it.” He gave her a hot look, and once again, she was reminded of his military experience. She nodded, surprised that she was disappointed that he cited no other reason, and he turned away, calling to Louis.
“I will have a bath, if you please, Louis, in the stables with my comrades. I would not offend my lady wife at the board.” He bowed to her again then crossed the hall with long strides. The boy Michel followed him, speaking of clean chemises, and he smiled with affection as he listened to the boy.
“And how shall we have the pheasants tonight?” Louis asked Melissande. “I recommend we hang the venison so it can be roasted in a week or so. The birds, though, we might stew for the evening meal. Perhaps with peppercorns? The last of the wine would make an excellent sauce...”
Melissande was shaken.
Quinn could understand that well enough. Her father’s seal in his hand and now his tabard, the one made by her mother, would be on Quinn’s back, as well as his other garments. Quinn was sharing her bed in the solar and directing the defense of Annossy. Her list of responsibilities was diminishing with every passing hour, or so it must seem to her, and he knew she took great pride in what she could do, rather than how she looked.
He waited in the kitchen for Louis’ return, and saw that man’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of him there.
“Sir! I sent word for your bath...”
“I know, Louis. You are most busy in this moment, but I would confer with you.”
“Of course, my lord.” Louis bowed, his manner expectant and prim.
Quinn led the older man to a quiet corner of the bustling kitchen. “I wish to ask your advice with regards to my lady wife.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“She has administered Annossy on her own for some time.”
“Since her father’s demise, sir, and to be sure, she did a great deal in his lifetime, as well.”
“And so, my arrival brings many changes to her life and routine.”
Understanding dawned in Louis’ eyes but he did not speak. He merely waited.
Quinn cleared his throat. “I should like to know which tasks were her favored ones, the better that I might ensure she keeps those responsibilities as we govern Annossy together. It is a fine holding, and I would see it continue to prosper. For that, I desire my lady’s expertise.”
Louis smiled. “She does not like the court obligation,” he said. “Though she is fair. Her knowledge of the law and tradition of Annossy is complete, but I believe her heart is too kind for those times when justice must be harsh.”
“Then perhaps I might invite her to advise me on those days, until I know Annossy’s traditions.”
Louis nodded approval. “She has a rare talent for keeping the ledgers. Her hand is neat and her sums are always perfect. I know she takes pride in a well-formatted and complete ledger.”
“While I would not know where to begin,” Quinn said. “In my trade, tallies are kept in one’s head.” He tapped his temple.
Louis smiled and nodded. “I imagine so, my lord. My lady is frugal but not cruel. I have always admired her balance in managing the coin of the keep, as well as the inventory of spices and wine. She has a gift for making less seem like more.”
“There is a rare talent, as well as one I much admire.”
“She also anticipates matters with great cleverness. Her father was much concerned with hospitality and she has inherited that from him.”
Quinn nodded, recalling her concern about the evening meal upon their return. “I thank you, Louis, for your insight. Now I will know what to suggest to my lady wife.” He would have turned away, but the older man cleared his throat. “Aye, Louis?”
The châtelain looked quickly over his shoulder. “I do not wish to be a person who tells tales of others, my lord, but I am concerned that there is one in this household who does not welcome your arrival. He is one who my lady trusts, and I would not have her misled.”
“Of course not,” Quinn said. He raised a brow, inviting more.
“The Captain of the Guard conferred with my lady at length this morning. I do not know what was said, for he ensured they could not be overheard, and my lady gave no sign of her own reaction.”
Quinn could believe that. Melissande could hide her thoughts behind that veneer of ice if she so chose.
The châtelain frowned. “I am simply troubled by the timing. He went to her side as you were departing, sir, and spoke with her immediately afterward. She was agitated this morn, perhaps as a result.”
“I thank you for your warning, Louis.”
“I trust that you, sir, as my lady’s husband will see her defended, but I am not so convinced of the intentions of others in that regard.”
“I appreciate your concern, and will say naught of it.” Quinn bowed then smiled. “And now, I think, my bath does summon me.”
Gaultier. Already Quinn despised the man, yet he knew little of him.
Though it did not help that on the way to the stables, he spotted the two men-at-arms who had returned from the mill conferring with Gaultier in the bailey. Their manner was urgent and furtive. When one spotted him, he spoke to the others and the group quickly parted ways.
Aye, Quinn’s suspicions needed to be buttressed. Perhaps he would send Bayard to Tulley with a missive and ask for more detail about Gaultier.
Tulley had sent the man to Annossy, after all. He must know more of Gaultier’s credentials and alliances.
Lost.
Melissande was utterly lost.
/> Quinn looked splendid in the colors of Annossy, and he was attentive at the board that night. He laid his hand upon the back of her waist as he spoke to his comrades at the board, and he ensured that her opinion was invited in every discussion. He fed her the choicest morsels of the delicious pheasant stew that he had ensured was on the board, and she felt the warm weight of his gaze upon her. He asked her about Annossy, about the histories of the holding, about the names of the villeins, about their histories. He credited her with urging him to think of the welfare of all beneath his hand and she saw that he would excel at the task.
This warrior, so powerful and yet so gentle, would claim not just her body but her heart forever, and even knowing it was folly to surrender so readily, Melissande could not resist him. A veritable champion courted her favor, attending to her concerns with such resolve that she could not imagine he would ever do aught else. If it was a deception, it was a most potent one.
If all he seemed to be was his truth, if she could be certain of that, then Melissande knew she could surrender her heart to him forever.
But she was not certain.
And it infuriated her that she fulfilled every expectation of a woman’s weakness. She surrendered to Quinn’s allure and his touch and his warrantees—even knowing they might be lies—with annoying ease. Indeed, what had become of her resolve? What had become of her good sense? How could two nights abed so addle her wits?
She sat at the board, fuming as Quinn charmed all at Annossy, resenting his easy conquest and despising her own weakness even more.
He offered his hand to her when the darkness had fallen and the conversation was fading, then escorted her to the stairs. Melissande could fairly feel his expectation that they would lie together again, and her own body betrayed her with its tingle of enthusiasm. Where would Annossy and she be if he took all they offered then abandoned them?
Berthe gave a sigh as she watched them and Bayard rolled his eyes at the maid’s reaction. Melissande shook her head even as Niall moved to be closer to Berthe. Bayard’s brow darkened but he did not follow.
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 23