One Knight's Return, page 15
“Thank you, my lady,” Quinn said, his voice a low rumble of approval. His eyes glowed as he smiled at her. “I appreciate your summary of the site and its traits, and will ride there on the morrow to see it myself.”
“But Gaultier has done as much already...”
“I would meet the miller myself, as well as hear his testimony,” Quinn said, interrupting her smoothly. He granted Gaultier a look. “Do you have more detail to share?”
“No, my lord.” Gaultier bowed again.
“You did not determine where the tracks led from the river?”
“They led toward the forest, but could be followed no further.”
Quinn sat back, his dissatisfaction clear. “I look forward to seeing it on the morrow.”
“I shall accompany you, sir.”
“Nay,” Quinn said firmly. “You will remain here at Annossy and ensure that the keep is secured.”
Gaultier opened his mouth and closed it again.
“Aye,” Quinn said, his voice silky yet stern. “We shall see if I learn more than you did on your quest. Upon my return from the mill, do not let me hear that you or any other men in the employ of Annossy have ridden through its gates since my arrival on this day with my lady wife. The tidings of my assumption of Annossy’s seal shall remain here for the moment.”
“If it was your desire to close the gates, sir, you should have told me as much.”
“I summoned all of you to the hall to pledge fealty, which should have been sufficient to ensure that none departed.”
Gaultier looked disgruntled and there was a gleam in his eyes that Melissande had never noticed before. “Of course, my lord,” he said, his tone cold, and bowed once more. Then he took his leave, striding across the hall and calling to some of the other sentries.
“Was it wise to provoke him so?” Melissande asked, unable to remain silent any longer.
Quinn arched a brow. “I cannot say as yet. I am intrigued that he could be provoked, in truth.”
“Why?”
“How long has he been here?” he asked instead of replying.
“A little over a year. Tulley sent him after the death of the Captain of the Guard who had served my father.”
Quinn nodded and lifted his cup to her. “This is the wine of Annossy?”
“The last of it, I fear, sir.”
“It is most fine.”
“And this is the worst of it.”
His brows rose as he sipped.
Melissande shrugged. “We sold far more than usual in the fall, so have little for ourselves now.”
Quinn watched her. “You had need of the coin?”
Melissande nodded. “I had Gaultier hire four more men-at-arms, because of the attacks. The treasury was low as a result.”
Quinn sipped, his expression thoughtful and his hand still locked over her own.
“You evade my questions, sir.”
“I but think upon them, my lady, the better to give you a full response.”
Melissande sipped her ale and waited, suspecting that her impatience showed.
“He does not like me,” Quinn said finally.
“You do not like him,” she felt obliged to note and he smiled, though there was no humor in his gaze.
“I invite you, my lady, to give me a plausible reason for his dislike.”
Melissande was surprised to be asked her view, but then she knew more of Gaultier than Quinn. “He distrusts change, perhaps.”
Quinn nodded. “And perhaps he, like you, disliked my father.”
Melissande frowned. “I cannot think how he would have known Jerome.”
“Perhaps I shall ask him,” Quinn mused. “Still, his reaction is vehement. I am intrigued by that.”
Melissande eyed her husband. “Why do you think he dislikes you?”
“I think he cannot dislike me so quickly as that. He knows naught of me. I suspect he dislikes what I represent.”
“I do not understand.”
Quinn’s gaze met her own steadily. “He might not wish to have someone look closely upon his choices and actions.”
“Gaultier has served me well...”
“Has he? I hope as much, my lady, but you have admitted yourself that you know little of warfare.”
Melissande nodded in concession. “But surely, he would not deceive me.”
“I hope not,” Quinn said mildly, then sipped again of the wine. “There are other possibilities, of course. He might think I have claimed a prize he desired for himself.” He was watching her closely so he must have seen her surprise at his implication.
“I would not give myself to the Captain of the Guard!”
“That does not mean he had no such aspirations.”
Melissande was outraged. “What advantage would there be to me in such a liaison? There could be no match. He has naught to call his own...”
“I have little to call my own,” Quinn whispered, his eyes gleaming.
“You have Tulley’s favor and that is more than sufficient.”
“You told me he had Tulley’s favor.” His tone was not adversarial and Melissande had the sense that they strove to solve a riddle together, each contributing what they knew. It reminded her of how her parents used to confer and she found the discussion most seductive for all of that.
Melissande’s gaze flicked across the hall but Gaultier was gone. Had he aspired to claim her hand himself? She had certainly given him no encouragement in that pursuit.
To her surprise, she felt Quinn brush his lips across her knuckles. “I like that you are startled by the notion, my lady,” he murmured. “It reassures me about our shared future.”
“How so, sir?” Although Melissande might have agreed with his conclusion, she had not expected him to utter such words aloud. Truly, this man defied her every expectation. She simply wished she could know that his words were honest.
Jerome had been a polished liar, to be sure.
“You have but one betrothed, not a line of suitors.”
“Surely one betrothed is sufficient.”
“Surely, it is, but you cannot blame me for failing to know what neither you nor Tulley confided in me.”
Melissande could not. She smiled at Quinn and he blinked as if astonished. “You are right, of course.” She bowed her head then, wondering if he wished for her to simply agree with him every time. How dull her life would become! But there were men who believed women had no place beyond the bed chamber.
Quinn leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “If you do not wish to invite me on this night, I will stay away.”
Melissande met his gaze with surprise. “Your friends will notice.”
“I can concoct a tale.”
The very fact that he offered to do as much gave Melissande the confidence to make the offer she knew she should. “But I would not have you deceive your comrades on my account.” She took a deep breath to bolster her confidence, then leaned close, touching her lips to his ear. “You are invited to my bed this night, my lord husband. We have but three months to see Tulley’s objective achieved and I would not sacrifice an opportunity.”
Quinn’s pleasure was more than clear. Indeed, his eyes flashed so brightly that Melissande thought he might kiss her senseless before the entire company. “I am at your command, my lady,” he vowed in a heated whisper and kissed her palm, his gaze locked with hers as he folded her hand over the burning imprint of his kiss.
Melissande shivered, right to her marrow, her gaze snared by his own.
Then that treacherous heat unfurled in her belly, filling her thoughts with memories of all they had done the night before.
That was even before the slow smile began to claim Quinn’s lips. She watched, spellbound, and could not even take a breath.
Oh, she was lost for certain.
And already, she cared less than she should.
“And what of your fair sister?” Niall asked when the wine was gone and they were at ease in the hall. The villagers had returned to their homes and many of the torches had been extinguished. The hall was warm and Quinn’s comrades were not only present, but hale and hearty. It was good to be amongst friends again and in such comfort. Melissande remained by his side, and he knew that she was listening to the conversation.
He held the seal of Annossy, a rich prize by any accounting, and had a beautiful clever wife by his side. Annossy’s hall was gracious and the furnishings were fine. The meal had been delicious and the meat plentiful. The ale was good and the wine better, the bread fresh and the villeins of Annossy robust in their welcome.
Even more, his lady had invited him to her bed this night. Quinn’s characteristic optimism was reviving.
Truly, he might make a home here.
“What of her?” Quinn asked. “I have had no chance to learn of her situation.” Indeed, he had been surprised by Tulley’s confession in one missive that he even had a sister. When Quinn had left Sayerne, he had been his father’s only child. He refused to recall his last discussion with his mother, for her refusal to accompany him was still troubling. He could not bear to imagine what had happened to her in his absence. Tulley had only written to tell him of her demise, but had offered no details.
Did Melissande know?
Was that tale at the root of her dislike for Jerome? Quinn could believe as much. He doubted that his mother’s life had ended well.
He turned to Melissande and asked only one of his many questions. “Do you know of my sister Annelise?”
She shook her head. “I heard of her but have never met her.”
“Despite the proximity to Sayerne?” Amaury asked, his surprise clear.
“She did not live there so long as I recall. She was at the convent of Ste. Radegunde from a young age, from the time of the death of Jerome’s lady wife.”
Quinn did not ask how his mother had died. He dared not do so before the company, though he saw that Melissande’s expression was bland.
Perhaps she did not know the full extent of his father’s villainy.
That would be a blessing.
“I see the hand of Lord de Tulley,” Quinn said lightly and Melissande spared him a quick smile.
“No doubt he had a part in that choice.”
“He is a most vigilant liege lord,” Amaury said and Melissande only nodded. Her tact was admirable.
“And after the lord of Sayerne died?” Niall asked. “What happened to his daughter?”
“Yves took her to Tulley, of course,” Melissande said. “It was in December a year ago. She must have been sent elsewhere for she is not there now. Perhaps back to the convent. Heloise would have had a companion, if not.”
“Yves?” Quinn asked.
She gave him a considering glance. “You must have known of Yves.”
“I know of no one named Yves.”
Melissande licked her lips, as if she feared he would not like what she had to say. “Yves is Jerome’s younger son, his bastard.”
Quinn blinked.
Bayard chuckled.
Melissande took a breath. “Yves earned his spurs with Tulley’s sponsorship and returned to serve his father at Sayerne. Matters improved somewhat: Yves could be relied upon to keep his word, although his father oft broke the pledges made in his name.” She straightened primly. “I was sorry to hear that he had left, but then, Jerome did not acknowledge him and Tulley must have made it clear that there would be naught for him at Sayerne or Tulley.”
“But where did he go?” Quinn asked. He still could not make sense of the news that he had a brother.
“He escorted Annelise away from Sayerne and that was the last I heard of either of them. Neither are at Tulley and no one spoke of them there. I assume they were dispatched together but know not where.”
He had a brother.
And his sister was gone, although Tulley had not seen fit to confide the truth of her situation to Quinn.
Although, to be sure, he had sufficient to keep him occupied.
Perhaps he should be glad that his siblings were absent.
A brother. Quinn could not help but think that another knight’s strength would have been welcome in the task of rebuilding Sayerne.
“But why did Annelise leave the convent at all?” he asked, fearing that his sister had experienced abuse similar to what Jerome showered upon his mother.
Melissande shrugged. “Perhaps she was summoned. Perhaps there was to be a match made for her. I was not privy to the dealings of Sayerne.”
“And clearly you do not know all that the Lord de Tulley considers beneath his influence,” Amaury noted quietly, then changed the subject. “I must say that your concern about the Beauvoir Pass in winter was well deserved, Quinn.”
Quinn smiled. He was aware of Melissande’s curiosity and explained to her. “When I rode to crusade, I went through the Beauvoir Pass in the winter. The snow was so deep that I feared we should never see the other side. The wind was fiercely cold and I was determined never to repeat that journey again.”
“But you did?”
“Aye. On our return, we rode from Jerusalem to Constantinople, intending to travel by land into the Holy Roman Empire. Our scheme was to approach Tulley from the north, following the path of Godfroi de Bouillon, but we did not manage to make Constantinople.”
“It was besieged,” Amaury informed Melissande, clearly noting her confusion.
“And we chose not to join another battle,” Bayard said. “I had no desire to see a Saracen prison again, though Quinn might have risked it.”
Quinn could feel his lady’s surprise.
“And I had no desire to tend another injury,” Lothair noted to Quinn’s dismay.
Melissande looked between them and Lothair indicated Quinn. “He healed well enough, for he is large and stubborn, but still, it was not easily done. An injury so fierce and untended so long required all my skill. Perhaps even an increment more.”
“You were injured?” she asked Quinn and he dared to hope she felt some concern.
“And imprisoned at Acre,” he confessed, noting the flicker in her gaze. “Bayard fought at my back, and chose not to abandon me when I fell, for which I am eternally grateful.”
“And I shall haunt him for all his days and nights in return,” Bayard said, prompting the other knights to laugh.
“We were imprisoned together,” Quinn admitted. “Another feat that saved my sorry hide, and all thanks to Bayard’s quick thinking. He convinced the enemy that we could be ransomed, and otherwise, we would never have left that battlefield alive.”
The lady had paled and Quinn folded his hand around hers once more. Did she tremble?
“Clearly, the rumor of Quinn’s manners had preceded us, though,” Bayard jested. “For there were no offers of ransom for these two sorry knights.”
“You were a sorry sight when you were freed,” Lothair agreed. “Sores and pustules.”
“Lice and fleas,” Amaury said with a shudder.
“And filth beyond measure,” Niall said.
“But all is well that ends well,” Quinn concluded, not seeing the merit of sharing more of this truth with his lady, and drank a tribute to that with his comrades.
“You were right about that pass, though,” Amaury said again. “I was certain the guides led us astray and that the road could have no summit. The snow!”
“The cold!” Lothair agreed.
“The supposed hospitality of Beauvoir keep,” Niall said and rolled his eyes. “Has ever there been a more forbidding and cold tower as that one? And the welcome was scarce warmer.”
“Never mind the price of a simple repast and a night’s lodging,” Lothair noted. “I thought the horses were to be bedded down in gold!” The knights laughed together.
“Praise be we had only to stay the one night,” Niall said.
“Lord de Tulley knows his advantage, to be sure,” Amaury said. “I would wager his treasury overflows, simply from the tolls at Beauvoir.”
Niall shook a finger at Quinn and Bayard. “But it was worth every penny when he confessed that, in the past fortnight, only two other knights had dared to climb the pass.”
Amaury laughed. “And that they had four squires, one of whom had never seen snow before.”
“Michel!” the knights crowed in unison and the boy bowed before them, his ears glowing red. He carried a pitcher of ale and brought it to the high table, pouring into the proffered cups.
“Michel was born in the Holy Land,” Quinn told Melissande.
“And yet he is in your service.” She smiled at the boy. “How is this so, Michel?”
“I am an orphan, my lady,” the boy confessed, bowing deeply to her. “When my parents were killed, the bishop meant to surrender me to a monastery as an oblate, but I ran away. I wanted to go to Jerusalem to serve the knights and become one myself.”
“You did not wish to become a priest or a monk?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I would wield a sword, my lady, for God is better served by deeds than prayers.”
“I am not certain of that. We each have our roles to play in His scheme.”
“My parents farmed in the Latin Kingdoms, my lady. My father had no sword and when the war came, he died.” The boy’s eyes shone with a conviction that Quinn had noted before. “I will not die so easily, my lady.”
“I see,” she said softly and Quinn watched her smile at Michel. The boy bowed again and continued to serve the ale, though Quinn indicated that he would have none.
“The hour draws late, my lady,” he murmured and her gaze flicked to him with some wariness.
She nodded and stood, her agitation clear to him and more than a little disappointing. He must convince her that he would not be a husband like his father.
“Louis has prepared the chamber above this one for you all,” she informed the knights and Quinn saw the châtelain in the portal, listening. “And you are welcome to retire there at your leisure. There is yet ale and I would not curtail your enjoyment of it. If you have any need, please ask it of Louis, as you are the guests of Annossy.”
There were fulsome thanks all around then both Lothair and Amaury went to the stables to check upon their steeds. Quinn stood and offered Melissande his hand, bending to murmur to her. “I will see that the gates are secured and the sentries at their labor,” he said to her. “And will come to you shortly, my lady.”
