One Knight's Return, page 12
He reached her side and lifted her hair, letting his spill over his fingers. “You are glorious, my Melissande,” he murmured and her breath caught when he said her name. He kissed the hair on his hand, his gaze rising to hers again. “As splendid as a goddess.”
“I am not dressed,” she protested. “My hair is not braided...”
He bent and grazed her cheek with his lips, then kissed her ear. She tingled at the brush of his whiskers and shivered at the heat emanating from him, thrilled by the power that he held in check. He was a man, such as she had never imagined a man might be. His breath fanned her throat and kindled her desire, and his hand rose to her nape again.
“Glorious,” he whispered then kissed her ear. Her eyes closed in pleasure. When he grazed her earlobe with his teeth, Melissande heard herself moan with need. “With wine or not, you rise to my touch, just as I rise to yours,” Quinn whispered into her ear and she felt the flick of his tongue. His kisses brushed down her throat and she tipped her head, granting him access to whatever he desired of her. “It is a fair promise for our shared future.”
Melissande tugged herself from his embrace and hastened backward. “Aye?” she asked, ensuring her tone was sharp. “Did you not realize that I only pretended to share your pleasure, husband? I thought it a fitting choice for a bride on her nuptial night.”
Quinn shook his head slowly. “You did not.”
“You do not know,” she said, then turned to choose a clean chemise. She kept her tone dismissive, though her heart was thundering. “It is done. And I have your vow.”
“It is not done, my lady,” Quinn said softly. “I will prove it to you, again and again, if necessary.” She saw his hand rise and guessed his intent, knowing he would be proven right if he did touch her.
“Is your word worth so little, then?” she asked. “Does the pledge you have granted me mean naught at all?”
Quinn dropped his hand. She turned to find him glaring at her. “We will journey to Annossy together, and should you not invite me to your chamber, I will slumber outside your door.”
“Like an obedient hound.”
“Like a husband who knows his rightful place.”
“You might find more comfort in the stables. Or at Sayerne.”
“Nay,” Quinn said with resolve. “You will not have the opportunity to forget about me, my lady.” He shook a finger at her. “And rest assured, the next time that I am between your thighs—and I will be soon—I will have been invited.”
“I do not share your confidence,” Melissande said, but her husband only smiled that maddening smile, the one that made her catch her breath and...remember.
Their gazes locked and held once more across the chamber, the heat rising between them with an ease that Melissande despised. She wanted to look away but could not. She wanted to halt her own reaction, but she could not. She was powerless when this man simply looked upon her—when he smiled—and that sent terror through her veins.
Quinn took a step closer, his intent clear, and Melissande fought her desire to flee. “Invite me now, my lady,” he murmured. “I will ensure that you begin your day most joyously.”
Melissande knew she would appear more resolute if she held her ground, but if Quinn touched her again...
He had no such chance, for someone rapped upon the door.
“I come for the linens,” Tulley declared from the other side.
Melissande seized a robe and donned it over her chemise, her heart pounding. Quinn tugged on his own chemise and turned to face the door. Was it coincidence that he ensured Melissande was shielded from view?
God in heaven, this man would keep her emotions all a-tangle if she did not find a way to keep him at a distance.
What was she to do?
Chapter 6
Arnaud de Privas.
Quinn would never forget the name. He did have a vague recollection of his father hunting at Privas, but thought perhaps his father had not seen eye-to-eye with that holding’s lord. That would have diminished contact between the estates and even mention of Privas. It would scarce be surprising for the lord whose son was to wed the daughter of Annossy to have conflict with Jerome.
To his own dismay, Quinn was irked, yet again, in the presence of his wife. Oh, he had wanted to convince her to invite him, and he knew he could have done as much—but the flash of fear in her eyes had been his undoing. How could she both fear him and provoke him? And how could Tulley have ignored her betrothal? Now, Quinn was caught between the fat and the fire, all to suit Tulley’s dictate.
Indeed, Quinn had greater sympathy for Melissande now that he knew this detail. He could already see the importance she attached to vows, perhaps a trait learned from her father, and could understand how the situation would trouble her. Of course, she felt guilt over her reaction to his touch. Of course, she believed that she was disloyal to her betrothed. He understood all of this, and yet, he found it hard to believe that lovemaking could be so potent if they were not meant each for the other.
Perhaps he was a romantic fool like his mother, just as his father had oft sneered.
“Do I interrupt?” Tulley asked, with no care for the reply. His gaze flicked to the bed and back to Quinn. He smiled, the wily old lord, and Quinn’s irritation found its rightful target. “Is there perhaps an estate—or two—falling forfeit this morn?”
Aye, Tulley would welcome that outcome. “The truth is evident, I believe.” Quinn gestured to the bed, then paced to the window. He dared not trust himself to say more.
He tried to consider how he might take his lady’s cause as his own. He stole a glance at her to find her gaze downcast.
Perhaps they had annoyance with their liege lord in common. The notion was almost sufficient to make Quinn smile.
“Ah! Very good!” Tulley declared. “It is a pleasure to be mistaken on occasion.” He snapped his fingers and his châtelain hastened to gather the linens. Would they be washed or preserved as evidence? Quinn did not know.
The silence grew in the chamber, until Tulley coughed in his precise manner. “It seems to me that all is not rosy this morn.”
No one responded.
“In fact,” Tulley continued. “I could not help but overhear your...discussion.”
At that, Quinn looked up, as did Melissande. There was alarm in her eyes, which Quinn took as a warning. She knew Tulley far better than he did.
“Perhaps I have not adequately emphasized the importance of this match.” Tulley looked between the two of them, his expression forbidding.
Melissande blinked rapidly but did not speak.
Quinn took that as a warning.
Still, Tulley watched him, his manner expectant.
“I understand our union is a matter of some interest to you,” Quinn managed to say.
“This is more than a matter of interest!” Tulley said. “It is of the utmost import that this marriage be seen as unassailable.” He drove his fist into his palm, his emphatic gesture startling Quinn.
“The match is made and consummated,” he reminded the older man. “As you have seen.”
“Yet already there will be talk in the kitchens about the arguments between the pair of you,” Tulley replied. He paced the width of the chamber and back, so clearly agitated that Quinn wondered what he would say next. “Such chatter will travel like the wind. You will share your bedchamber—you must!—and to ensure as much, I insist upon an heir within the year.”
Quinn saw Melissande’s hands tighten into fists and knew that she too was fighting her impulse to argue with Tulley. He moved closer to her side, feeling that they should battle as one.
“That allows but three months for conception,” Quinn said, knowing he sounded more mild than he felt.
“Indeed!” Tulley agreed. “What deterrent to these raids is a crusading knight taking the title of Lord of Annossy if you, Quinn, do not express your claim in every possible way?”
Melissande’s head snapped up. “Lord of Annossy?” she echoed. “Naught was said of Quinn becoming Lord of Annossy! I understood that this match was to assure his claim to Sayerne!”
“Surely you understood that the two estates will be merged with this match?”
Melissande paled.
Quinn did not appreciate Tulley’s manner with her, for the older man spoke as if she were a witless child. Quinn knew that his wife was keen of intellect, and even he had not made what Tulley assumed was an obvious conclusion.
Tulley had not made his intention clear.
No doubt on purpose.
He was to be lord of both estates? Quinn was astounded. For the first time, he wondered whether he was adequately trained to administer a manor. Surely such a fact as the merging of the estates would have been obvious to him otherwise?
“Merged?” Melissande repeated. “I never agreed for Annossy to merge with any other estate. My father would have forbidden as much...”
“Your father is dead,” Tulley said, interrupting her. “And the choice is mine to make.”
“Had that always been your intent, you should have made the matter clear from the outset,” Melissande dared to say.
Tulley’s lips thinned. “The seal of Annossy has never been granted to you, Melissande. It is yet mine.” Indeed, he produced the seal in that moment, and Quinn realized the lord had been holding it in his hand. “Annossy is mine to rule and its seal is mine to grant.”
Melissande, with a pride that Quinn could only admire, extended her hand in obvious expectation. She might have been a queen, or even a goddess.
But Tulley shook his head. “Throughout all of Christendom, a woman cedes her property to her spouse upon her nuptials and you should not imagine that Annossy or you would be treated differently.” Tulley offered the seal to Quinn. “Annossy will be your sole holding for the time being,” he said when Quinn had accepted its slight burden.
Melissande gasped and Quinn frowned.
“I beg your pardon, my lord?” he asked. “I returned at your summons to govern Sayerne.”
“You returned at my summons that your father had died,” Tulley corrected. “I do not intend to grant Sayerne to you as of yet.” He turned to leave the chamber. “I expect you both at the board shortly.”
“What is this?” Quinn demanded, following his liege lord. “The entire point of this match was to bring Sayerne to my hand! I journeyed from Palestine at your summons!”
“You cannot do this!” Melissande charged and Quinn was glad to see that she took his cause. “You gave Quinn this expectation, whether you declared it outright or not.”
“I can do whatsoever I see fit to do,” Tulley replied, pivoting in the doorway to survey them. “And I will see this match made in truth before I grant Sayerne to anyone.” His gaze narrowed as he eyed them. “I would strongly suggest that you never challenge me thus again.”
Quinn’s heart sank. He had been used by this wily lord, tricked into taking a wife who would drive him mad, and all for naught. Melissande had been compelled to break her vow, only to have Annossy surrendered to him. And now, Tulley was insulted, as well. The future could bode no darker fate for him than this.
Sayerne was not to be his, ever if at all.
Perhaps it would have been better if he had gone to his grave with Bayard at that fateful battle at Acre. He would have been spared the burden of this disappointment.
Of course, then he would never have spent the night just past with a bride more fetching and passionate than he had ever expected to take to his side. Surely that match was worth a battle or two, even some sacrifice?
If only Melissande would meet him halfway.
“But mercifully for the two of you, I am not without compassion.” Tulley held up a finger. “You have one year to produce a legitimate heir and when you do—” he nodded to Quinn “—Sayerne will be yours.”
Melissande’s lips twisted, her doubt clear, but she held her tongue.
“But, my lord...” Quinn began to protest, only to have Tulley interrupt.
“But naught!” the older man said with force. “This matter is serious beyond all. My holdings are at risk due to the vulnerability of Annossy. I will not tolerate such a risk!”
“But...” Melissande began, but Tulley glared at her until she fell silent again.
“Understand this,” he said to Quinn. “It is beyond gracious of me to hold your estate in trust for an entire year and considerably more than your due. You should thank me for the opportunity to prove yourself. See that you do not disappoint me again.” With that, Tulley spun on his heel and left the room.
“If naught else, he ensures that we know what is at stake,” Melissande said.
“Is he always so irksome?”
She smiled with obvious reluctance. “He is a warrior and a man who knows his desire. I would wager you have known many of his ilk.”
“Aye, but I have not had the misfortune to be required to please many of them.”
Melissande clearly fought her urge to laugh at his grumpy confession. Their gazes met and he found hers twinkling, and he was glad to have amused her in this moment.
“You will have to invite me,” he noted and her laughter faded.
She inclined her head to Quinn, her composure restored. “I would suggest, husband, that we ride to Annossy as soon as might be, before the Lord de Tulley feels compelled to make more demands.”
“Aye, my lady, you speak the truth in that.” Quinn reached for his chausses and boots, well aware that she had not agreed with him. “I will send your maid to assist you.”
She nodded agreement, her lips tight, and he doubted he would see the fire in her eyes anytime soon.
He might hold Annossy’s seal, but he had lost all favor with its lady.
Tulley was a fool.
Melissande could not believe Tulley’s choice.
How could her liege lord surrender the seal of Annossy to Quinn, and so readily as this? She as yet knew little of her lord husband—yet he held the greatest prize in Christendom within his grasp, by her accounting. Five years she had administered Annossy, and so flawlessly that Tulley had been fulsome in his praise.
And now he gave the holding away.
Worse, with that surrender, she had become no more than Quinn’s possession. She had no standing, no legal rights beyond his own, no argument to make in her own favor. Oh, Tulley’s choice burned.
Their agreement was moot, as well. She would be compelled to invite Quinn to her bed, for she had to conceive a son to protect even this position of weakness. Melissande felt cornered and filled with a new fear, one she had never hoped to experience. All depended upon her womb—not her wits, not her talents, not her experience. How she hated to have her future dependent upon Fate and whim and her husband’s inclination.
Melissande had Berthe draw her hair back tightly, choosing to look stern and cold. She could not bear for Quinn to touch her and reduce her to a wanton, not on this day. She had need of solitude to accept the change in her stature and fortify herself for the challenge ahead. She donned a thick gown of deep blue wool and a sturdy wimple, blaming the cold for her desire to hide herself away. She descended to the hall and broke her fast in silence.
She could not even look at Quinn in her consternation.
Did her father weep in his grave? She could imagine so. Sayerne had begun to devour Annossy, after all.
They departed immediately after breaking their fast, though Quinn had a short conference with Tulley. Of course, Melissande was not privy to the discussion. She fought her sense of injustice and kept her gaze downcast even as she seethed.
Her mare was saddled and waiting in the bailey, and Quinn lifted her to the saddle. She avoided his gaze, for she knew that if he smiled at her, she might forget herself. A company of Tulley’s men escorted their party down the winding road to the gates of Tulley’s town. At the gates, they were left to their own, and took the road that led east and slightly north.
Tulley’s holding filled the valley between two ranges of mountains. At the lowest point of the valley ran the river Helva, its headwaters far ahead of their party. The peaks of the mountains defined the boundaries of the territory on three sides, the slope on the northern side cultivated in tiers that basked in summer’s sunlight. The southern slope was thick with trees, which were mostly conifers. The distant end was lost in rocky outcroppings and jagged peaks. On this day, the river was glazed with ice in areas, and both trees and fields were covered with snow. From its position at the widest and lowest point of the valley, the keep of Tulley defended the entire valley.
Annossy lay ahead and to the left of the main road that followed the river’s course. It perched on higher land, that vantage point offering a view toward Tulley and to distant Sayerne. Sayerne was beyond Annossy and had once been larger, but in these days, it was Annossy that prospered. Melissande’s family holding’s most valuable crop was wine. Privas was larger, perhaps larger than Annossy and Sayerne together, but it was almost completely forested, being on the south side of the road, opposite Annossy and Sayerne. There were more holdings further up the valley, and indeed, more between Tulley’s keep and Martinach, but this was the part of the valley Melissande knew best. She could see those three keeps if she narrowed her eyes against the winter sunlight, in their various states of repair, though a banner flew only from Annossy’s tower. Indeed, it was the only tower of the three that stood whole, with a roof. From this distance, the banner’s silver and blue hues could not be distinguished but she could see its flicker against the snow of the fields.
Behind them, the road and valley continued to descend toward the junction with the river Darke at Martinach, a town administered by Tulley but plagued with flooding in the springs. The crops were rich there, though. Melissande knew it only as the place to turn south to take the road to the Beauvoir Pass, beyond which lay the Italian states, Rome, and sunshine. She had never journeyed through that pass. Beauvoir, too, was governed by Tulley and she did not doubt that its tolls contributed significantly to Tulley’s treasury. Following the Darke River north led to Geneva and thence to Paris and the lands of the French kings. Perricault lay in that direction, sheltered in the next valley to the north, and she wondered anew if Tulley’s tale of Arnaud was truth. Again, she had not travelled that road. Tulley had been the limit of her journeys. Beyond the mountains to the north and end of the Helva valley was the domain of the Holy Roman Emperor and his courts. Tulley answered to him, but as he had suggested to Melissande, neither king nor emperor looked closely at this corner of Christendom.
