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

by Claire Delacroix

  I watched the sliver of light beneath the first door on the left for a long time. Finally, I slid across the corridor, making no sound as I progressed. I eased into the nook of the portal, listening avidly.

  Here I smelled lamps and felt heat. I heard a muted splash, like a smoothed cube of soap slipping into water. I smelled something floral, as a noblewoman will use to scent her bath, something that awakened a memory in me of a night in York and a woman’s sweetly scented flesh. I faintly heard the sound of humming.

  I smiled. There was no trap. My arrival was simply anticipated. I made to ease open the door.

  “Leave me, Fiona,” Evangeline said tersely from within and I froze, my fingers just above the latch.

  “But, my lady…”

  “Leave me.” Steel echoed again in Evangeline’s voice.

  Footsteps creaked upon the floor behind the door and I darted back into the shadows of the second door in the nick of time. A plump older maid whisked out of her lady’s chambers, disapproval tightening her lips.

  She marched toward the door at the top of the stairs, clearly intending to tell Fergus of his daughter’s crimes. I shrank back into the shadows as she flung open that door, my luck holding when she did not look back.

  Indeed, she gasped when she looked out upon the hall. “Sweet Jesus!” she cried, then picked up her skirts and hastened down into the fray.

  What a marvel of a woman to believe she could halt such mayhem!

  I returned to the door to the lady’s chamber, delighted that Fiona had not closed it as firmly as she should have done, and eased my wand of angelica into the crevice between door and frame. A flick of the wrist and the door swung silently inward, granting me a fine view of Evangeline’s bare back.

  The sight of her stopped me in my tracks and brought a lump to my throat. Indeed, I could not breathe for a moment, so potent was my desire for her.

  Her dark hair was pinned atop her head, though tendrils fell enticingly onto her fair shoulders. Her flesh was as fair as alabaster, a rosy glow touching her buttocks. She was slick and wet, more curvaceous and tempting than any woman I had known.

  “For a man said to be skillful in moving unobserved, it took you half an eternity to find your way up one flight of stairs,” the lady said, without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

  I blinked.

  “Close the door, if you will, for there is a draft,” she said, her voice husky. She glanced over her shoulder at me, that tiny coy smile curving her ruddy lips. The lantern light gilded her cheek, but left her eyes fathomless and dark. I had the uncommon sense suddenly that she hunted me and not the other way around.

  Again.

  I flicked the door closed with my fingertips, recovering some of my usual manner. “And I had thought you might greet me with less enthusiasm,” I said, then winked. “Perhaps I underestimate my own charm.”

  “Hardly that!” The lady’s smile stole the sting from her words. “Perhaps there is still something I would have of you.” She gestured, effectively distracting me from the import of her words, for I saw that the bed was turned down, the linens fresh, the candles lit.

  It is not all bad to be expected.

  Nor is it all bad for a lady to be so desirous of your caress that she puts her argument aside, at least for the moment. I was certainly amenable to her scheme.

  I smiled as I sauntered toward her, my thoughts filled with what we shortly would do, and gallantly offered her the length of linen left to one side. I held the cloth for her, just slightly out of reach so that she would have to step toward me to claim it. “I lingered in the hall as ladies, in my experience, prefer not to be hastened in their preparations.”

  “I would rather hasten my preparations than hasten my time abed.” She stepped from the bath with no shyness, her hands brushing mine as she accepted the linen. She stood, not an arm’s length before me, her gaze locked with mine. I could smell the rosewater upon her, feel the steamy heat of her wet flesh, and see the tightened buds of her nipples.

  She watched me look and smiled as she cast the linen aside unused. “Unless your thoughts are not as mine?” she teased, her arms slipping around my neck. I was deluged with the scent of her and caught her close, more than willing to repeat all we had done before.

  “I thought myself summoned to a dire fate. You did invite me to pursue you, after all, and mocked my prowess as well.”

  Evangeline laughed lightly, the sound rich in her throat. “Indeed, I did. What better way to ensure that you accepted my invitation?”

  “By insulting my abilities?”

  Her brow arched high. “By daring you to try again. You are a man, I think, who likes a dare well.”

  I chuckled. Anxious to begin our play, I bent to kiss her, but she lay a hand upon my chest.

  “But I am not truly the prize you came to claim. Be honest with me in this, at least. You came to retrieve the relic.”

  My heart skipped that she saw my objective so clearly. “Did I? Perhaps I am glad to be rid of its burden. Perhaps I came to thank you.” I nuzzled her neck, loving how she caught her breath beneath my caress. “Perhaps I came to claim you as the greater prize.”

  She chuckled. “You, come to seek a bride? I think not.”

  “Perhaps not a bride, but another merry night abed,” I said, wanting to make this matter most clear. I took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, liking how her gaze darkened.

  “No, I would not expect you to be a man anxious to wed,” she mused, tilting her head to regard me. “I suspect that you like to live unfettered by obligations, responsibilities, and expectations.”

  I should have been daunted that she already understood me so well—such was her charm that I was delighted. “There is nothing amiss with that.”

  She smiled, seemingly in agreement with me. “Or perhaps you came because you heard of my abilities at chess.” She laughed low.

  I might have laughed in turn, but her lips were upon mine and our discussion at an end. Evangeline cupped my head in her hands and rose to her toes, pressing her sweet heat against me and making me forget all else but the magic of her touch.

  Hours later, we lay wrapped in each other’s heat, exhausted by our lovemaking. It had been as marvelous and exhausting as before. Evangeline slid from my embrace to blow out a candle close to gutting itself. I watched her, as beguiled by her grace as ever.

  Her lips tightened into a rosebud as she blew, her brow tightened slightly as she concentrated on her task. She was so serious about whatsoever she did, giving it every vestige of her attention—including lovemaking. Yet, she could be playful and uninhibited, as mischievous as a fey maiden sent to torment mortal men with desire.

  Beyond the lust she awakened in me was something more, something deeper, something that made me curious to know more of her than mere touch could confide. The demure demoiselle in the chapel and the wanton I met abed were facets of the same woman—and I could not yet discern how the two were reconciled in the woman she was.

  I knew that I should leave, but I could not bring myself to do so. Not yet. Indeed, I have always had an uncommon affection for puzzles. Evangeline nestled against my shoulder again and smiled up at me, looking so flushed and disheveled—yet also sweetly innocent—that my heart clenched. It was impossible to face the prospect of never seeing her again after this night, of never learning more of her mysteries.

  “You should come with me.” I made the invitation impulsively, but as soon as it was uttered, I knew this to be my desire. I had never traveled with another, but for Evangeline, I was prepared to make an exception.

  She twisted to regard me, her eyes filled with the sparkle of laughter. I bristled slightly that she found my invitation amusing. “Come with you where?”

  “Away, to the south.” I dared not tell her more than that. I pulled her closer and kissed her shoulder, hoping to persuade her to join me. “You could see with your own eyes that marvels exist.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow,
her dark hair cascading over her bare shoulder. I dared to hope that she considered my proposal. “As does this home you described to me afore?”

  “I will possess it soon.” I was disappointed that she asked after such details, but in my experience, women find much joy in the dispensation of coin. I smiled for her, willing to allow her this concession. “Indeed, if you accompany me, you can aid in its furnishing.” I was surprised that her expression turned wry.

  “And there would be a place in your home for me as what? A courtesan?”

  “You will live in splendor and have every frippery you might desire.”

  Evangeline almost laughed, then pushed away from me. She sat up, and stared down at me, her features shadowed. I felt whatever bond existed between us stretch thin, though I knew not what I had done. “Until you tire of me and cast me out?”

  “I would not do that!”

  “And who would aid me if you did?” she asked, rather more harshly than I thought the issue deserved. She had changed, not unlike the chameleons I knew from the south, changing hue even as I stared directly at her.

  It was a kind of magic, for she had once again become the distant and cool lady, a woman who might have been wrought of ice.

  “I have never treated a woman unfairly. You would live in luxury, admittedly for so long as we found each other agreeable. It would not be a common life.” I reached out to touch her cheek, liking that she shivered slightly at my caress. It was encouraging that my touch could recall the side of her that most appealed to me. “And indeed, we might never tire of each other.”

  Evangeline pulled her chin away with a jerk. “And if we did?”

  “If we parted ways, you would leave with a heavy purse and no need of anyone else…”

  “No need?” Now, her eyes flashed with fire. “How can a person have no need of a family, of friends, of a home to call their own? How can a person have no need of tradition, of legacy, of roots?”

  She got to her feet and retreated from me, the lack of grace in her movements revealing that she was sorely angered. With every step, the welcoming woman with whom I had just shared such intimacy seemed more distant, more a figment of my own wishful thinking. “How can you imagine that I would leave all I call my own to live as your whore?”

  I got to my feet in turn, discomfited as much by her charge as by the change in her. “That is too cruel a word!”

  “What then?” Evangeline propped her hands on her hips and flung her hair over her shoulder, her pose so splendidly indignant that I had a mind to continue what we had begun. Her eyes snapped though, a warning that she would not be readily seduced.

  Still, I tried. I ventured closer, extended a hand. “We would be lovers, Evangeline, and our partnership would be untainted by petty pledges and words with no meaning. We would be together…”

  “For so long as you wished to rut with me, or until I carried your child, and then you would cast me aside like so much offal. I may have been raised upon the edges of Christendom, but I know well enough how a man such as you treats a woman.”

  “Do you?” Now, I was angered. I pointed to the bed. “And by your own experience, you know that I would treat you so poorly?”

  She had the grace to flush, though she did not change her stance otherwise. I closed the distance between us with a single step and framed her face in my hands. She caught her breath, her eyes darkening, and I brushed my lips across hers, loving how she shivered.

  “What is of import is trust between us, Evangeline, and this magical passion that we coax from each other. What is important is that we remain together.” I kissed her again and she trembled, her hands landing upon my shoulders with evident reluctance. Her mouth softened beneath mine, though, and I thought the battle half won.

  Until she tore her lips from mine and retreated, rubbing her hand over her mouth. “You cannot change the truth with kisses.”

  “The truth is that we should live well…”

  “Of course.” Her words were bitter. “You are clearly acquainted with the fair treatment of harlots. A woman would be a fool not to accept your offer of hours abed and coin in exchange for her favors, so long as you had a desire for her.”

  Her arch tone infuriated me. I had never felt the need for the ongoing presence of a woman before, I had never made such a proposal, and she spurned my offer as insufficient.

  I would not be so fool as to repeat the proposal, or worse, to fatten it. I understood that I had been rejected, though I doubted her stated reason was the genuine one.

  I donned my chausses, lacing them with haste, then my chemise and tabard. It was clear that she would not see sense in this, though I was more annoyed with her than I knew I should have been.

  “You make much of little,” I informed her when I was fully dressed. She stood like a warrior queen, arms folded across her chest and features set, unashamed of her fury or her nude splendor. It was clear that my touch was no longer welcome and my tone sharpened as a result. “You have already met me abed. What difference if you do so again?”

  “The difference is that I am here, among my own people and in my own home.” She jabbed a finger through the air in my direction. “If I followed you, when you abandoned me in some distant land, as undoubtedly you will, I would be left to beg for kindness from strangers.”

  “You have a low opinion of me, based on so short an acquaintance.”

  Evangeline laughed, though the sound was not a merry one. Then she spoke with a harshness I had not known she possessed. “Tell me that you are not a man who sees to his own pleasure first. Tell me that you are not a man who cares solely for his own gain.”

  I glared at her. “It is only natural to ensure one’s own needs are met first.”

  “And there is a sentiment to warm a woman’s heart.”

  “You have no grounds for criticism,” I appealed. “I came in pursuit of you!”

  “You came in pursuit of the Titulus Croce and do not pretend to me otherwise.”

  “A man might be persuaded that you had taken the Titulus to ensure that you were pursued.”

  She smiled, her gaze knowing. “A vain man might, perhaps.”

  “Then, why did you take it? Why did you welcome me to my bed with such gusto?”

  “Perhaps I had my own reasons for accepting what you offered so readily, reasons you need never know.”

  I had then the odd sense that she toyed with me, though I could not imagine how or why. She was enigmatic again, her expression inscrutable. “Surely, the Titulus was not so necessary as that for the ceremony this night? The old laird clearly found some acceptable substitute, if he showed a version of the relic twice yearly until five years ago.”

  She said nothing, her darkened gaze fixed upon me.

  “I know,” I added with deliberate care, “that the genuine Titulus has been gone from Inverfyre for fifteen years.”

  Evangeline turned her back upon me and donned a chemise. She tied the neck with such finality that I knew we would not meet abed again this night.

  Or ever.

  And that troubled me far more than I liked.

  V

  “Why now?” I demanded. “Why did you seek the Titulus after all these years?”

  Evangeline granted me a sly glance. “If I were a man, what would you speculate?”

  I smiled. “Mercifully, you are not.” She scowled at me, so I folded my arms across my chest and pondered the question. “If you were a man, I would suspect vengeance of you, or perhaps some scheme to ensure my disadvantage. I would suspect that you had stalked me apurpose, perhaps followed me from Ravensmuir, specifically to steal the Titulus. I would speculate that you seduced me apurpose, to distract me from your intent. Were you a man, however, that particular strategy would have been less successful.”

  She smiled coolly and arched a brow, her expression telling me that I had guessed aright. My heart chilled, for I had never met a woman capable of or desirous of planning such a feat. I was troubled and intrigued.

&n
bsp; “Do you know what is the root of our fortunes here?”

  I recalled both Inverfyre’s seal and its reputation. “Hunting hawks. You trade in peregrines.”

  “We did, because the cliffs around this keep have always been rife with them. For centuries, the falcons have returned to nest at Inverfyre, and their eyasses have been collected by our falconers, trained and sold to dukes and lords and kings.”

  I waited, for this could not be all of the tale.

  Evangeline met my gaze. “Fifteen years ago, the falcons became impotent.”

  “What is this?” I was astounded.

  “They still return, they still nest, but their nests are barren. It is the mark of divine disfavor and the root of our poverty. Without young falcons, we have naught with which to trade; without trade, we have no coin, no food, no garb.” Evangeline’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Few crops flourish at Inverfyre, even sheep disdain these hills. Without the Titulus, the Lairds of Inverfyre and even Inverfyre itself shall fade to a distant memory.”

  To say that I was somewhat skeptical of this conclusion would be a vast understatement. “You cannot believe that the absence of a relic is at the root of your woes. Evangeline, this is the manner of superstitious nonsense believed by peasants. There must be another reason.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, as if willing me to persuade her. “Name it.”

  “I do not know. Perhaps their favored prey has become scarce.”

  “The rivers are choked with waterfowl, which the falcons favor, simply because the predators’ numbers have dwindled so far.”

  “Perhaps the nests are not so attractive as afore. Wild things oft are dismayed by the close presence of men.”

  “We are fewer than before, and the perimeter of our village has reverted to wilderness. By your logic, there should be more falcons.”