One Knight's Return, page 16
She nodded, pale again, but did not flinch from his touch.
Perhaps he could make progress in this campaign on this night.
Perhaps ensuring the safety of Annossy, which she clearly held dear, would gain him some credibility. Tulley had commanded him to end the raids, and truly, warfare and defense were details he understood well. This would be the advantage he brought to Annossy, and Quinn knew already that his lady was sufficiently keen of wit that she would see his merit when it was done.
Berthe was gone and Melissande was alone in her chemise, her hair brushed, when she heard Quinn’s voice in the hall. The low rumble both reassured her and troubled her. She turned to watch the door, her hands knotted together.
Would she always dread his appearance at night? She had claimed the solar of Annossy after her father’s death and it was a fine chamber. It was at the summit of the tower with views in all directions. There was a great pillared bed in the middle of the room, with heavy drapes in silken velvet, woven in the blue of Annossy with silver embroidery along the hems. The wooden pillars rose to join the beams that held up the roof of the lofty chamber, and Melissande had always thought it looked like a crown in the midst of a treasury. Now that Tulley had commanded an heir, the import of the bed was unmistakable.
She had been born in this bed, and her parents had consummated their own marriage within it. In a way, her marriage would seem more real when she and Quinn had coupled in this bed, and more unassailable when she delivered a child here.
She heard him speak to his fellows, then the sound of his boots on the stairs. He dismissed a squire by the sound of it, tapped on the wooden door, then entered the chamber alone. He nodded to her, his eyes gleaming, then closed the portal to survey the chamber. “Now this is a fine refuge,” he said, his admiration clear. He considered the iron latch, which was formidable, and secured the door, then went to the window that looked toward Tulley. He leaned out of it, confirming how much he could see from its vantage point, then closed the shutters over the opening. He went to each window in turn, repeating his movement, and she thought he lingered at the one that faced Sayerne. He completed his survey with the window that faced the gates. When it was shuttered, he turned to nod at Melissande. “Most clever. I assume one of your forebears built the keep?”
“My grandfather, although my family was in possession of Annossy before that. He was the one who built the tower.”
“With considerable thought toward its defense.”
“The tale was that he had fought to protect Annossy from others who wished to seize it. Tulley’s line was not yet ascendant, so the valley was filled with warring factions.”
Quinn nodded and set his sword aside. He removed his belt. “And the mill that was attacked two nights past? Where is it?”
Melissande went to the window that faced the northern slope and opened it again. Quinn came to stand beside her, and she jumped when his hand landed on the back of her waist. “There,” she said, pointing to a faint light.
“It is solitary.”
“But not previously believed to be vulnerable. It is a hard path up from the main road.”
“And escape would be hampered by both snow and forest,” he mused. “And there is no abode in the forest beyond?”
She shook her head. “I do not know of one.”
“Is there a pass through the mountains where they rise above it?”
Melissande shook her head again. “It is steep. I remember goatherds appearing once, but it was midsummer. They were pursuing the goats and had followed a narrow path as I recall.”
Quinn nodded and latched the shutters again. “Raids and battles are matters I understand, Melissande. I will see this resolved and Annossy secure.” His voice dropped low. “I accept the challenge of proving to you that both of Jerome’s sons are as different from their father as might be.”
He had been stung by her endorsement of Yves’ character, she realized that, yet the words had also encouraged him to believe that he could undermine her expectations. When he spoke with such conviction, as if he swore an oath to her, Melissande found herself yearning to believe him. That frightened her, for she knew so little of him, but before she could dismiss her response, he leaned toward her.
“What is it that you fear, wife of mine?” His gaze was piercing, those golden eyes seeming to see her deepest secrets.
“Why would you ask as much?”
“Because I wish to know. I cannot dismiss your uncertainty without knowing its precise root.”
Melissande could not think of a short reply, much less one that would not reveal her own vulnerability. He needed no ideas of how to compromise her in her own home. “I expect events of this night may dismiss it,” she said, then felt her cheeks burn.
Quinn nodded once and did not seem to be in haste to retire to bed. Indeed, the man possessed patience in rare abundance. He crossed the chamber, removing the seal of Annossy from his purse, and set it upon the largest table. Melissande could not help but stare at it, and she guessed her desire showed, for he smiled at her. “Have you never touched it?”
“Not since my father died. Tulley claimed it then.” She took a breath. “As was his right.”
“You sound as if you remind yourself of that.”
“Perhaps I do.”
Quinn picked up the seal and offered it to her on the flat of his hand.
Melissande met his gaze in surprise, then went to his side. She took the familiar seal and turned it in her grasp, well aware that Quinn watched her closely. It seemed impossibly intimate to be standing beside him in this chamber, the great bed behind her, the lantern’s light flickering over both of them. The fire crackled in the brazier and she shivered a little at the sound of the wind in the shutters.
“When was that?” he asked in that gentle tone.
“Five years ago. It will be six in the autumn.” Melissande did not look up for she felt her tears rising. “He died at the board, in the middle of his meal. One moment, he was laughing at a jest, and the next, he was dead.”
“It must have been a shock to you.”
“In more ways than one.” She handed him the seal again.
“And your mother?” he asked again.
“When I was nine summers of age. My father had ridden to war and she had administered Annossy in his stead. When he returned, she conceived again.” Melissande shook her head. “They were overjoyed, for they had hoped for years to have a son.” She took a deep breath and nodded toward the bed. “She died there, bringing that boy to light, my father at her side. The babe died two days later.”
“No son.”
“No son.” She looked up at him, and knew the tumult of her emotions showed. “Only me.”
Quinn shook his head. “Do not discount your measure, Melissande. The state of Annossy five years after your father’s passing, after five years of your administration, must be the surest measure of your skills. I am easy to impress in such matters, for I do not share your expertise, but my comrade, Amaury, is awed by your administrative talents. You learned your lessons well.”
Her mouth was dry, her heart full of his praise even as she feared its import. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Will you not call me by my name?” he asked. He gestured. “Especially in this chamber?”
Melissande met his gaze again. She swallowed, then licked her lips. “Quinn,” she whispered and he smiled with pleasure.
His fingertip landed on her lips and she froze, shaken by the tumult of her heart. “I like how you say it,” he murmured, then bent to touch his lips to her cheek. “Will you say it again, my lady?” he whispered in her ear.
“Quinn,” she said with greater confidence, her voice more sure.
“I thank you,” Quinn murmured and touched his lips to her ear, sending shivers over her flesh.
She stepped back and might have turned away, but Quinn caught her hand in his and she froze again. “What do you fear, Melissande? Tell me.”
She swallowed and confessed the truth. “Only one thing. That you truly are your father’s son.”
“Is that all?”
“Is it not sufficient?” she asked, a challenge in her tone and the flash of Quinn’s eyes made her wonder if she knew all of the tale.
Or if the fullness of the truth was even worse than she feared.
“Why did you leave Sayerne?” she asked and he bowed his head. “What drove you away from your home? Why did Tulley see fit to take you beneath his care?”
Chapter 8
Quinn was snared. He wished to confess all to his new wife, but was not at all certain that the truth would gain her support. Filling any gaps in Melissande’s knowledge might cast his own merit in doubt. “What did my father do to make you despise him so?”
“You must know.”
“I have my suspicions. Let us tell each other the truth this night, my lady, and for each day and night after this.”
Their gazes held for a moment and there was uncertainty in her fine eyes. How Quinn wished he could dispel it forever.
Then she took a breath, squaring her shoulders, her stance becoming regal. He already recognized that she stood thus when she felt obliged to do something she would rather not, and he admired her strength of will.
She was much stronger than his mother had been.
The realization was startling, but true.
“While my parents were alive, Jerome abused his vassals by taxing them too much, feeding them too little and working them too hard.” Melissande spoke without inflection, as if reciting an inventory. “He bedded every woman he could catch and when those women conceived, he cast them out to starve.”
“And you know this by experience or rumor?”
She flicked a glance at him but Quinn remained silent. He would wager upon experience, given that look. Melissande’s lips tightened before the words spilled from her lips. “Jerome spotted a maid of mine on a visit to my father, a nobleman’s daughter lent to our service, and seized her. We searched for her, but she was well-hidden, and he lied to my father’s man when asked if she was at Sayerne. In truth, she had been abducted by your father, hidden at Sayerne, and cruelly used for his pleasure.” She touched her fingers to her brow. “Perhaps your father would have said she was savored.”
Quinn winced.
“She returned two months later in rags and tears, with bruises upon her body and a child in her belly. Indeed, my mother said she scarce recognized her. She would not name the abuser, for she was afraid, but my parents gave her shelter and care.” Melissande swallowed. “She had been my nursemaid when I was a child and was much loved here at Annossy.” She looked across the chamber. “She was never the same. I remember her being a merry soul and the sound of her laughter, but there was none after her return.”
“What happened to her?” Quinn asked, thinking she might have been wed to a man in service to the estate.
Melissande caught her breath and shook her head as though she could not speak. Quinn did not know what to do to ease the hurt of her recollection, but wished that he did. He waited in silence, despising his father anew.
“She died in labor,” she admitted finally, and Quinn’s heart clenched. “Your father never acknowledged the child or provided for it. He sent no regrets for her loss, either. The child sickened and died the next winter, despite all efforts. And that was the end of her tale.” She raised her gaze. “Because she had the misfortune to be pretty and merry of heart and to have caught Jerome’s attention, she was injured and died too young.”
“It was unjust.”
“You are not surprised.”
Quinn shook his head. “Tell me more,” he invited, knowing there had to be.
Melissande cleared her throat and spoke with greater vigor. “When my parents died, your father began his campaign to forcibly join our two estates. When Tulley protested, Jerome became more subtle. He moved border markers. He stole the harvest and seed for sowing from our barns. He stole livestock, though it could not be proven beyond doubt, and he hunted in Annossy’s forests without my consent.” She shook her head. “I thought my woes over at last when he died, but the attacks on Annossy still continue.”
“Though on a different border.”
She flicked a glance at him. “Aye, closer to the mountains. The ford near the mill seems to be where the brigands cross into Annossy.” She eyed him. “But Jerome is dead. Annossy remains plagued. I know that if Yves has secretly returned, he would not do these deeds. He is honorable. If he was starving, he would come to Annossy’s gates and offer his service in exchange for food and shelter. But now you have returned to claim your father’s land and legacy.” She took a breath. “And I do not know precisely when you returned to Tulley.”
“My comrades told of our coming through the pass a fortnight before them.”
“Your comrades.”
Their gazes locked for a long moment. There was accusation in her eyes that Quinn longed to erase. It burned within him that she thought he was like his father.
It was irksome that she accepted that his brother Yves was not.
“I am different,” he said. “Give me the chance to show you.”
Her expression turned weary. “I have known you less than a day, Quinn de Sayerne. I have been commanded to wed you. I have been bedded by you. You have been granted the seal to my family holding and you stand this night within my chamber, invited by me.” She sighed. “It is as if my days and nights of labor here, for the good of this place, never occurred. And now my sole merit will rest upon whether or not I bear you a son, within a year. I am irrelevant, as irrelevant as my history, my hopes and my dreams, and I fear that my womb might be too reluctant for Tulley’s satisfaction. My parents were wed three years before my birth, and their match was merry. Their lack of conception cannot be due to a lack of conviviality.” She frowned and looked much less formidable than she had. “Would you not be discontent in my place?”
“You are not irrelevant! You are my wife and the heiress of Annossy...”
“Do not pretend to be a fool, Quinn,” she said, interrupting him with a bitterness that surprised him. “Should I not bear you a son within a year, Tulley will support your desire to put me aside in favor of a more fertile wife.”
Quinn could make no sense of that. “But he insisted on seeing the linens.”
“And he kept them,” Melissande reminded him. “All the better that he could see them destroyed if there was cause to have this match annulled.”
Quinn stared at her in shock. He had never imagined such treachery.
Melissande shook her head. “Do not imagine that Tulley does not see to his own advantage above all else.” She plucked at the ends of her veil. “So, do as you must, this night and every other. Naught is left for me to decide any longer. I am at the whim of Dame Fortune, though I cannot like it.”
Quinn had never seen Melissande despondent and he did not care for the sight. She had battled him and defied him and matched wits with him. She had challenged him and she had met his passion with her own. He could not bear to see her so defeated.
Perhaps it was exhaustion.
Indeed, he felt sympathy for her for there was truth in her accusations. Much had changed for both of them in the past day, and the changes were to his advantage. He believed that they would both share in that good fortune, but his father’s legacy was that she did not.
He disliked the tale of her beloved nursemaid and wished it had surprised him. Did she expect him to strike her? Quinn could not imagine doing so, but he respected that his lady wife—who had infuriated him already—might have her doubts.
She thought his half-brother had merit. Could he convince her that he did, as well?
To change Melissande’s thinking, he had to challenge her expectations.
He had to surprise her.
“Shall I send Berthe for you?” he asked, tucking the seal back into the pouch at his belt. Melissande glanced his way with obvious surprise. The sound of laughter carried from the hall below and Quinn pretended to be enticed by it. “I would rejoin my comrades and hear of their adventures since we parted, but I would not insult you with my absence.”
“What is this?”
“Choose,” Quinn said deliberately. “Choose, my lady, whether I stay with you in this moment or leave you alone. You say you have no decisions to make, so I will grant you one.”
“Just one,” she said.
“Just one, for the moment. But when you have none, one is a bounty.”
She smiled reluctantly, as if she could not stop herself. “It is indeed.”
“And Berthe?”
She held up two fingers and that smile gained power. “Another choice?”
“A veritable feast of opportunity,” Quinn said solemnly and her eyes sparkled.
“Aye, Berthe, if you please, sir.”
“A bath?”
Melissande laughed a little. “A plethora of decisions,” she said and Quinn chuckled, glad of a moment of accord. “Aye, a bath would be most welcome,” she said. “I am sorry, my lord husband. It is not like me to lose hope.”
He cleared his throat and lifted a brow, inviting her to use his name again.
“I am sorry, Quinn,” she said softly and he smiled.
“But you have lost much in this, a mere day, and I should be surprised if you did not notice the lack. Annossy is fine beyond all expectation. I would have you sleep well, my lady wife, for I shall have need of your counsel to see all administered well here.”
She considered him again. “I thought you simply said as much for Louis’ benefit.”
“I said as much because it is true. I did not even think of what our guests should eat or drink, never mind where they would sleep. I have much to learn from you, Melissande, and I would hope that you would see your way clear to granting instruction.”
