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

by Claire Delacroix

“Perhaps it is that. I think it is more. He said ‘When you have found the residence where you mean to remain forever, then open it and have your home blessed forevermore.’ I have debated the merit of both Annossy and Sayerne, but the truth is that my home is with you.”

  She eyed him in uncertainty.

  “So you must open it,” he urged.

  Melissande gave the box a shake and something rustled within it. Quinn merely lifted a brow at her glance. Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box.

  “Seeds!” she said with delight. The wind stirred the contents then and she understood the keeper’s instructions. She also understood why the soil had been turned below the window. “You knew!” she accused and Quinn smiled.

  “I peeked, but only a week ago,” he confessed.

  Melissande turned and leaned out the window, letting the wind catch and sweep the pearly seeds from their sanctuary. She watched the seeds swirl in the air, then scatter onto the freshly turned soil. “What are they?” she asked.

  Quinn shrugged. “We shall see soon enough.”

  “Whatever shall we do while we wait,” she mused, smiling as Quinn’s arms slipped around her waist. She leaned back against him, entwining her fingers with his. “I have an idea.”

  “Do you, my lady?” he murmured in her ear, the sound still giving her shivers.

  “I think our second son should be conceived at Sayerne,” she said, turning to look up at him in time to see his eyes light.

  He scooped Melissande up in his arms and kissed her before he carried her to bed. It was the first night that they loved in the great bed in the solar of Sayerne.

  Melissande knew it would not be the last, and that made her glad indeed.

  Author’s Note

  Duke Godfroi de Bouillon was one of the nobles who answered Pope Urban II’s call for the First Crusade at the end of the eleventh century. Godfroi left his estates in what is now Belgium to fight in the Holy Land. Later he was elected ruler of the conquered city of Jerusalem and chose the title Defender of the Holy Sepulchre.

  Godfroi died of a fever a year later, but there is an old story that on his deathbed, he gave a box to one of his knights. He bade the knight take the box home for him and open it there. The knight did so, only to find that the box was full of seeds, which were blown into the courtyard of Château Bouillon.

  Every spring, wild pinks still bloom there and the story maintains that these are the descendants of the seeds Godfroi sent home from Jerusalem a thousand years ago.

  The Scoundrel

  The Rogues of Ravensmuir #2

  Dear Reader—

  It is true that I acted boldly, brazenly, wantonly...and I confess, I have only myself to blame. I knew what sort of man I was dealing with, knew Gawain Lammergeier was a rogue and a thief. Yet when I schemed to seduce him and reclaim what was rightfully mine, I never imagined I would succumb to the charms of this reckless, golden-haired scoundrel.

  Make no mistake, I took what I came for—the sacred relic stolen from my father that can restore the fortunes of my keep. I should have been content then, to return home with my prize. Alas, I let desire rule me. For I have dared to tempt Gawain—to best me, bewitch me and even bed me, in pursuit of my treasure.

  —Lady Evangeline of Inverfyre

  “Enthralling and compelling!”—TheBestReviews.com

  The Rogues of Ravensmuir

  Medieval Scottish Romances

  The Rogues of Ravensmuir is my original trilogy of stories featuring the families of Ravensmuir, Kinfairlie, and Inverfyre:

  1. The Rogue

  (Merlyn and Isabella)

  2. The Scoundrel

  (Gawain and Evangeline)

  3. The Warrior

  (Michael - the Hawk - and Aileen)

  The Jewels of Kinfairlie series of medieval Scottish romances features the first three siblings of the next generation at Kinfairlie. These are Roland and Catherine’s children who visit Inverfyre at the end of The Warrior.

  1. The Beauty Bride

  (Madeline and Rhys)

  2. The Rose Red Bride

  (Vivienne and Erik)

  3. The Snow White Bride

  (Alexander and Eleanor)

  4. The Ballad of Rosamunde

  (Rosamunde and Padraig)

  The True Love Brides series features four more of the eight siblings at Kinfairlie:

  1. The Renegade’s Heart

  (Isabella and Murdoch)

  2. The Highlander’s Curse

  (Annelise and Garrett)

  3. The Frost Maiden’s Kiss

  (Malcolm and Catriona)

  4. The Warrior’s Prize

  (Elizabeth and Rafael)

  The story of Ross (the eighth sibling) is part of The Brides of Inverfyre series, which also features the children of the Hawk of Inverfyre and Aileen:

  1. The Mercenary’s Bride

  (Mhairi and Quentin)

  2. The Runaway Bride

  (Aiofe and Ross)

  There’s a Ravensmuir tab on my website with all of the books set in this world, as well as links to download free family trees.

  Many of the books in this world are also available in audio.

  Dear Reader

  The Scoundrel is a book very close to my heart. After writing The Rogue, I wondered whether love could redeem a lost soul. Shouldn’t love conquer all? I didn’t think Gawain was entirely bad, although he was certainly naughty. Could the right woman turn him around? I began to wonder what kind of woman would compel Gawain to change—because I quite liked his James-Bond-variety of audacity and derring-do—and Evangeline, a fiercely passionate woman, presented herself to me. I had a wonderful time writing this book, redeeming a previous villain and showing that love could indeed conquer all. I’m delighted to make this book available to readers again.

  As with all of my re-releases, I’ve chosen not to revise this book, but to republish it essentially as it was published in the first place.

  You can continue to read more about this family in my Jewels of Kinfairlie series, my True Love Brides series and my Brides of Inverfyre series of medieval Scottish romances. These romances feature seven of the eight children of Roland, the Hawk’s milk-brother, who we first encounter at Inverfyre at the end of The Warrior. By the start of The Beauty Bride, they’re all grown up and ready for happy endings of their own. In the Brides of Inverfyre series, the children of the Hawk and Aileen will also find their HEA’s. There’s an excerpt from The Beauty Bride, the first book of the Jewels of Kinfairlie series, at the end of this book.

  You can download free family trees for Kinfairlie and Inverfyre on my website, right here.

  All of the Jewels of Kinfairlie and True Love Brides medieval Scottish romances are also available in audio.

  You can also sign up for a free guided tour of Ravensmuir: this is a newsletter sequence, maintained separately from my main newsletter list. Each week, you’ll receive a newsletter featuring one book, each book in order, and take a peek behind the scenes at my inspiration and research for that story. There are special offers for my online store, too. Join the Ravensmuir tour here!

  To stay up to date on new releases, sales, and other good news, please follow my blog or subscribe to my newsletter, Knights & Rogues.

  Until next time, I hope you are well and have plenty of good books to read.

  All my best,

  Claire

  http://delacroix.net

  Prologue

  Inverfyre, Scotland—All Hallow’s Eve, 1371

  When darkness fell and the shadows in her chamber took vaguely human shapes, Lady Elspeth of Inverfyre understood that the dead had come to add her to their company.

  It was a night that might have come from an old tale. The sky was blacker than black, the stars obscured, nary a sound carrying through the windows but the murmur of the wind in the trees.

  It was the festival Samhain and, though the church had forbidden the celebration, the land heeded its ancient rhythms. On this night, lege
nd told that the veil betwixt the worlds drew thin and the dead came to visit the living. Elspeth, come to this land from the court of Burgundy, had never given much credence to local tales, not until now.

  Indeed, she had no choice—she could see the dead, clustered ’round. Their phantom whispers rustled in the darkness, telling her a truth she did not want to hear.

  Elspeth took a painful breath, relieved it was not quite her last. She still had one deed to perform, one she had avoided in the hope she would not be required to do it at all. Exhaustion filled her every sinew, just as pain racked her very bones. It would be blissful to be free of the agony, and Elspeth did not care at this point whether Hell or Heaven was her fate. No pain could be more fearsome than what she had already borne.

  Still she would have borne it longer, if that might have made a difference. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of her daughter arguing yet again with Fergus.

  “You should release Aphrodite,” Evangeline said, referring the gyrfalcon recently granted to Fergus as a gift. Her daughter’s tone was precisely right, in Elspeth’s opinion, neither pleading nor insistent. Fergus could take no insult from such reasonable speech. “She yearns to return to her nesting site. It will only drive her mad to deny her instincts, and a mad falcon is of no value to hunter or falconer.”

  It was a reasonable argument, one Evangeline had presented with respectful persistence. Elspeth held her breath, as she listened for the reply, though she suspected already what it might be.

  Fergus laughed, his manner mocking. Elspeth winced. Had there ever been a man more given to ignoring good sense?

  “Oh, you have a whimsy, Evangeline,” Fergus said in the manner of one indulging a stupid child. “Only a woman could believe it wise to cast away a prize such as this!

  “But…”

  “I will never let Aphrodite fly free—what fool would spurn a bird fit for a king? You may rest assured that whatever her instinct, she will learn to prefer my hand.”

  “She will lose heart.” Evangeline was persistent, though Elspeth guessed that her daughter understood the battle to be lost. “A falcon is most clever, more clever than a hound. A haggard falcon, taken long after its infancy, is never a good captive. This is why we have never captured haggards at Inverfyre.”

  “You capture no falcons at Inverfyre, to my knowledge. That is why it is so delightful to be granted a gift such as this bird.”

  “Aphrodite must be permitted to return to her nest, wherever it is, there to meet with her partner.”

  “And who are you to grant me counsel?” Fergus mocked. “Remember your place, Evangeline. You may be a beauteous woman, but beauty is less pleasing when accompanied by a viper’s tongue.”

  There was a pause and Elspeth suspected that her determined daughter had to grit her teeth. “I think only of the value of the bird to you, Fergus,” she said with a deference that must have been feigned. Truly, Elspeth had taught the child well! “I would not have your prized gift wither—how impressed would the donor be if Aphrodite died?”

  “She will not die! What do you know of gyrfalcons?”

  “I am the daughter of the Laird of Inverfyre, baron of the greatest falconry in all of Christendom,” Evangeline snapped. Elspeth averted her face, disliking that her daughter’s pride could not be better confined. Fergus would take affront. “I am born to a centuries-old lineage of falconers. It could be said that I know something of falcons.”

  “To be born at Inverfyre does not grant one innate knowledge of falcons or falconry,” Fergus retorted. He was wrong, more wrong than he could know, but Elspeth knew this man could be taught nothing. “Fear not—Aphrodite will be smitten with another male.”

  “Falcons mate for life.”

  “No, Evangeline, they do not. That is the kind of whimsy I expect to hear from a woman prone to chattering nonsense.”

  Elspeth grimaced at Fergus’ dismissive tone. The pain chose that moment to revisit her, and she gasped at the vigor of its bite.

  Immediately, her daughter was leaning over her, eyes filled with concern. “Mother? How do you fare?”

  “Not well.” Elspeth coughed and caught her breath. She laid a hand over her daughter’s hand, so much younger and smoother than her own. “This night will be my last.”

  “Do not say as much!”

  “It is the truth, Evangeline.”

  “Nonsense! A healer comes from Edinburgh even now. Do not lose heart so readily as this.”

  Elspeth sighed, knowing she could not persuade her daughter of what she knew to be unassailable. “Then, aid me to sit up, if you please.”

  Evangeline pushed pillows behind her mother’s back and smoothed the hair back from her brow. Elspeth noted that Fergus lingered in the doorway, the gyrfalcon Aphrodite perched upon his gloved hand, though he clearly wished to be elsewhere. He stroked the bird’s back with a bejeweled hand, his gaze assessing. The bird’s hood was splendidly wrought of green leather, embellished with gold and topped with a crest of peacock feathers.

  Fergus himself was finely attired as well, seemingly every gem of Inverfyre’s treasury stitched onto his clothes. Fergus’ fine garb, however, could not hide his age. He was elderly, vain, and not terribly clever. Not for the first time, Elspeth wondered why Gilchrist had chosen Fergus as his successor. Her husband had had many failings, but she had always admired his ability to judge character.

  Until Fergus and his honeyed tongue came to Inverfyre.

  “Evangeline speaks aright,” Elspeth informed Fergus, uncommonly bold in her last moments. “If you do not release the bird by midwinter, she will be useless in the spring. It is always thus with birds snared after their second moult. They are captured too late to avoid their instinct becoming habit.”

  “More counsel from women,” Fergus said with a roll of his eyes. “How fortunate I am this night to be privy to such wisdom.”

  “Fergus!” Evangeline whispered, but Elspeth waved a hand.

  “Go then, and leave us to our womanly whimsy.” She yearned to say more, but bit her tongue. There was oft a glint in Fergus’ eye that made Elspeth wonder whether he was as weak as she believed.

  He left, with nary another word.

  “I am sorry, Mother. He does not know what he says.”

  Elspeth smiled and touched her daughter’s cheek. Here was the one jewel she had wrought in all her days. Evangeline was a beauty, with the blue eyes and fair skin of her father and the black tumbling curls of her mother’s younger days. There was more than beauty to Evangeline though, for she had a will of iron, not unlike that of Gilchrist and his warrior kin.

  What a leader Evangeline could have been!

  “You should have been born a boy,” Elspeth murmured, before she could halt herself. “If you had been shaped as a man, your father would have died at ease.”

  “I doubt that I should have met his standards even then,” Evangeline said with unexpected bitterness.

  Their gazes met for a heated moment. Then Evangeline smiled primly, as if she had made a jest. Her eyes had revealed the truth, though, and Elspeth was ashamed.

  “All couples yearn for a son, Evangeline. There is no sin in desiring an heir and stability.”

  Evangeline lifted a brow and looked away. She stroked her mother’s hand, her gaze searching the shadows.

  “Do you see them, too?” Elspeth asked hopefully.

  “Who?”

  “The souls in the shadows.”

  Evangeline smiled, as if she believed Elspeth to be losing her wits. “Be calm, Mother. There is no one in the shadows.”

  “You should speak more with Adaira. She will teach you things I failed to teach you.”

  “You said she was mad. You always forbade me to speak with her!”

  “I was wrong. Ask her.”

  “Ask her what, Mother?”

  Elspeth was distracted by one shadow separating itself from the others, then astonished when she discerned its features. It was Gilchrist, yet not Gilchrist, Gilchri
st as if he had been touched by the wand of the frost elves.

  Her heart nigh stopped as he paused beside her bed, his gaze searching her own. Gilchrist always had looked into her eyes before he spoke, had done so with a marvel in his own expression, as if he could not believe she was his bride. It was this gesture that persuaded her of this shade’s identity. Silver glimmered along his silhouette, shone in his beard, crested his hair and spiked his eyelashes. Only his eyes remained the same vivid sapphire she knew so well.

  Elspeth caught her breath, for she knew full well why he had come. He reached out to her and she hesitated to take his hand, fearing he would be displeased that she had not fulfilled her old pledge to him.

  She turned back to Evangeline and was surprised to spy tears forming in her daughter’s eyes. The first fell like a gem, glittering in the lamplight until it splashed upon their hands.

  Elspeth reached for her daughter and caught her close, closing her own eyes as Evangeline began to weep. “I can linger no longer, Evangeline.”

  “I would never have asked you to endure the pain for so long as you have. But I shall miss you sorely.”

  “And I you.” Elspeth stroked the dark silk of Evangeline’s hair, remembering all their former embraces, remembering the babe, the child, and the young girl that this woman had been. This would be the last embrace they shared and she never wanted its sweetness to end.

  “I never wished that you were aught other than you are,” Elspeth confessed softly. “Not once you were born, not once you smiled at me. Do not imagine otherwise.”