One Knight's Return, page 28
She exhaled and shook her head, even as she accompanied him to the stairs. “You challenge my every expectation.”
“As you defy mine. Is that not a good omen for our match?”
Melissande pivoted to face him. She was two steps above him and their gazes were level. “On the contrary, I think it a sign that we are poorly matched.”
“I think otherwise. What drudgery it would be to find oneself wed to a person who offered neither surprise nor challenge. A lifetime together would feel like an eternity.”
She eyed him. “I thought you wished a compliant wife.”
“So did I,” Quinn confessed, noting how she seemed puzzled by his smile. “Until I was wedded to you, my lady.”
Melissande’s eyes lit with humor for a heartbeat, then she spun away. “You attempt to charm me, sir,” she said as she marched up the stairs.
“That cannot be. I have been informed by a most reliable source that I am utterly devoid of charm.”
She pivoted, glared at him, then continued up the stairs.
“What ails you?” she demanded as she entered the solar, spinning to face him. “Why are you so calm yet persistent on this day?”
Quinn shut the door and leaned back against it. “Because I am home, and I am glad of it. Because I am wedded and I am grateful for it.” He pointed to the floor. “Because this is where we will build our future, Melissande, and I intend to do whatever is necessary to see that done.”
“You dismiss my Captain of Arms,” she said, flinging out a hand. “And I am to smile sweetly. You invite my villeins to abandon Annossy and I am to nod approval. You fill my hall with your comrades of war and I am to both welcome them and see them fed. You scheme with Tulley to rebuild Sayerne at his expense—”
“I thought you would be pleased by that,” Quinn interjected. “I should never have thought to negotiate with him, had I not learned so much already from you.”
Again, he was granted a hot look for that comment. “And now you will plant your seed. What happens once you have your son?” She flung out her hands. “What happens to me once I have fulfilled that obligation? What happens to Annossy when you cast it aside for Sayerne? How long is this match of convenience to endure?”
“You wish to wed another.”
“I wish to choose my future, not to be told how it will be!”
Quinn saw the fear flash in her eyes and guessed the truth. “You fear I will abandon you.”
“I fear that I am useful, no more and no less, and that once my purpose is fulfilled, I may no longer be so. It is not the same for women, my lord. If I am cast aside by my husband after bearing him a son, then I will be a widow of no import. You already possess Annossy. Do not take my dignity and my future, as well.” She straightened and held his gaze. “Tell me the worst of it, my lord. Tell me your plan.”
It was infuriating that she always saw the worst possibility, and blamed him for it. Quinn strove to control his temper. “I am not my father,” he said with force and Melissande lifted her chin. “I have done naught to earn your distrust. I have asked for your counsel. I have heeded your advice. I have defended your family holding as if it were my own.”
“It is your own!” she cried.
“Just as you are my wife!” he roared. “That makes you Lady d’Annossy. We are bound together, Melissande, by our own pledges. I would have an honest and loving marriage of merit, but I cannot compel you to trust me. Indeed, I cannot win your trust, either, no matter what I do and how I defend your interests. It seems that you withhold it apurpose.”
“There is naught else I can withhold,” she countered with some bitterness, and he turned to face her.
“You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” she snapped, but her tone revealed the truth. Was it possible that she held him in some affection? Did she argue with such heat because she came to care for him? Quinn knew that he himself was utterly smitten, but he had learned to be wary of Melissande’s quick wits. He would not hasten to claim any victory, but would proceed with caution, and let the lady come to him.
“What will you do when you have your son?” she demanded again.
Quinn held his ground, his mood much improved by his sense of the possibilities. “I will do what my lady wife commands. If she wishes to truly put her hand in mine and labor for a better future, then I will welcome her wisdom and her skills. But if she wishes to remain alone at Annossy, I will leave her.”
“You will take another woman to your bed,” she accused and his temper flared again.
“You cannot have the matter every which way!” Quinn roared. “You can be my wife in truth, or you can push me aside. I will honor your wish in this, but I will not sacrifice every advantage I hold to see you secure at Annossy without me. You cannot cast me aside yet decide who comes to my bed. We are wed, Melissande, and if you desire a match of merit, you must meet me halfway.”
She folded her arms across her chest yet looked less formidable. “I did not wish to argue with you.”
Quinn was relieved that she saw the sense of his appeal. “There would be a change,” he dared to tease her and was rewarded with a fleeting smile.
“Let us begin this discussion again,” Melissande said, her tone softer. “I owe you an apology, and I was disappointed that you had departed yesterday morn, for I could not surrender it to you.”
“An apology?”
“I was too harsh. I said too much about the reputation of Annossy.” Melissande flushed and dropped her gaze. A note of confusion claimed her voice and dismissed every bit of Quinn’s vexation. She so seldom allowed him to glimpse her vulnerability and it affected him powerfully. If she could have guessed that he was hers to command for the price of a single tear, he did not doubt she would have been more prepared to share her true feelings with him.
That did not mean, however, that he could make such a sweet confession.
Now, she paced, her brows drawn together in annoyance. “I cannot fathom why you make me so angry, or why I lose my composure in your presence. It frightens me to so lose control of my own tongue. I feel uncertain of what will happen when we argue, and that troubles me.” She fell silent then, and her color rose even more as she stole a glance at him.
Quinn could not help but chuckle in his relief. “We have this in common, my lady,” he murmured. “I am known for my temperance yet you—” He took a breath as she watched, then shook his head. “You, my lady, set my very blood afire.” He wagged a finger at her. “I want to shout with fury when you challenge me. I could shake you to make you see sense.”
“Or your version of it,” she countered, softening her words with a smile.
Quinn smiled, surprised into it. “I could kiss you to silence or seduce you until you have no argument to make.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, and swallowed. “Is it not unnatural?” she whispered.
“I do not care. I think it most excellent. I like that we enflame each other, for it hints that this union is of import to both of us.” He took a step closer and she did not retreat. Nor did she look away. “For when all is said and done, it seems we oft agree.”
“Aye,” she admitted, her gaze clinging to his. “And the simple truth of it is that even though you say I irk you, you have never raised a hand against me. You never have shaken me to see sense, or seduced me to silence me.”
“And I never will.”
Melissande nodded with welcome confidence in that. She swallowed, then impaled him with an intent glance. “Why did you leave Sayerne?”
Quinn was startled by the abrupt question, but knew he had to reply. “Because he beat her,” he said, bowing his head at the ignoble truth of it. His throat tightened at the memory and he hated that he had been not able to defend his own mother. “He struck her until she bled and I could not bear it. I was only a child when I tried to defend her, then he beat me, as well.” He swallowed and looked away from Melissande, glad that she had never known such horror. When he recalled his father’s violence and hatred, he could understand her doubts about his nature.
She laid a hand upon his arm and he laid his hand atop it, grateful for this encouragement. His voice was husky when he continued. “I tried to convince her to flee with me, but she would not leave him. I could not persuade her.”
“You tried, Quinn.”
“It was insufficient. He learned of what he called my treachery. He beat me for it, then cast me out. It was the dead of winter and she cried out, but then she was silenced.” His throat worked and he could not summon any words for a moment, so overcome was he by the awareness of his own weakness.
Melissande stepped closer. “You were only a boy,” she whispered, giving him clemency that he could not give himself.
Quinn fought to compose himself. “I should have frozen to death outside the walls. But Tulley was at hunt and found me. He took me away and sent me to train for my spurs.” He dared to meet Melissande’s gaze. “I thought to learn to fight that I could defend her.”
“But by the time you could do as much, she was dead,” Melissande whispered, her words filled with welcome compassion.
“And Tulley dictated my course. I owe him my life, but I still regret that my mother would not come with me.”
“She died there as a result,” Melissande said. “She died for her loyalty to Jerome.”
Quinn nodded and bowed his head. “I should never have left her.”
“Then you would be dead, as well. Even I know that Jerome did not tolerate defiance.” She leaned against him but he could not look at her. “You are not your father’s son, Quinn, and I am most glad of it. You are a man of honor.” Then to his astonishment, she placed her hand upon his cheek. “I feared you had abandoned me,” she whispered. “I was shaken by how much I missed you. I am most glad of your return.”
Quinn risked a glance at his lady, to find her eyes shining. His heart skipped. “No matter the terms?”
She smiled. “Apparently so.”
Quinn could not summon a word to his lips. Desire raged through him, but he reminded himself of her courses and strove to keep his need in check.
“I watched for the flame at the mill last night, as you could not,” she admitted, remaining close and speaking as if she knew he needed a moment to compose himself.
“Did you?” The confession pleased Quinn greatly, even though he knew that his comrades would have watched as well. He was filled with tension yet unwilling to move lest he frighten Melissande away. He watched her, nigh holding his breath, as she tipped her head back and trailed her fingertips down his cheek to his mouth. Her skin was soft and cool, and he felt like a rough warrior in comparison to her fine beauty.
Melissande was not weak like his mother.
She was a queen, a lady, and his wife.
Quinn would love her until the end of his days, and beyond.
“Come to bed, sir,” she said with new urgency and he feared he had only imagined the words. She smiled at him and his chest squeezed with painful vigor. “We have a son to conceive.”
Quinn grinned at her invitation, catching her in his arms and swinging her around. Melissande protested, but when he set her on her feet, he caught her close and kissed her with abandon. He finally broke their kiss, his arm locked still around her waist, holding her captive against his chest.
“Tell me now if you still have your courses,” he growled and Melissande smiled up at him, her expression so playful that he guessed what she would say before she did.
“I never did,” she admitted. “I was merely vexed with you.”
Quinn laughed again and scooped her into his arms, then stole another kiss. “I will make you a wager, my Melissande,” he said as he carried her toward the bed. “Whenever one of us is vexed with the other, I suggest we spend that passion abed.”
She gasped. “That is a scandalous suggestion, sir.”
“But one with appeal?”
Her eyes twinkled so merrily that Quinn dared to believe in their shared future. She flushed a little and smiled at him. “Indeed, sir. Though I fear you may start an argument apurpose in future.”
“Nay,” he said solemnly. “’Twill be you who do as much.” She gasped again in mock outrage, then laughed. Quinn kissed her soundly, the time for words being well past.
Her husband was a sorcerer.
Or perhaps he was an elixir that once sampled, left a woman desperate for more.
Either way, Quinn kindled a need within Melissande, satisfied it, yet could readily make her yearn for his touch again. It was the reverence in his expression and his caress, as if he feared she might fade to naught before his very eyes. He was so gentle, despite his strength. The fact that he tempered himself in order to give her pleasure was a concession that fed her own confidence in this deed.
Indeed, their coupling was more pleasurable each and every time.
She indulged her impulses this time and surrendered completely to their lovemaking. She felt his surprise when she took the lead, but could not mistake his approval. How could their passion be more potent each time? It was a puzzle she could not explain, but Melissande did not care.
She wanted Quinn.
She did not mind that he knew the truth of it.
She met him touch for touch, demanding more and more, and they exhausted each other in their quest for pleasure. The culmination was a marvel beyond marvels and she collapsed atop him in the bed, wondering how many had heard their triumphant cries.
“I have a confession to make,” Quinn said when they were entangled together and sated.
“Not another,” Melissande teased and he chuckled.
He lifted a tendril of her hair and twisted it between finger and thumb, then wound it around his fingertip. “I like what you teach me,” he said.
Melissande rolled to lie atop him. “It seems that in matters abed, you teach me, sir.”
“Nay, it is not so simple as that, but that is not what I meant.”
“What then?”
“I thought of your inventories.”
“Which is why you brought fish and wine. That was most welcome. How many more comrades do you expect to arrive at our gates?”
“None. For there is only one more and he is said to be wed.” Quinn lifted a finger. “But when Tulley insisted that Sayerne fields should be tilled this year, I thought of my practical wife and her ledgers.”
“And you negotiated.” She smiled as she watched him, liking his pride in his accomplishment. He should be proud to have won a concession from Tulley.
“Aye.”
“You did not insult him, I hope.”
Quinn shook his head. “I think he respected the novelty.”
Melissande laughed and Quinn joined her merriment.
“He vowed that he will send the seed, and men to rebuild the homes of the villeins, and provisions for those who choose to go to Sayerne from Annossy to till the land.”
Melissande pursed her lips. “Yet he will take only a third of the harvest. However did you win such a concession? I am certain he wished for more.”
“Half,” Quinn admitted and she winced. “I told him that Annossy should not be diminished for the sake of Sayerne.”
“You say this to seduce me fully.”
“I say this because it is good sense.” Quinn kissed the tip of her nose then rose from the bed with purpose. “I have much to learn, Melissande. Will you teach me more? Louis says you find satisfaction in keeping the ledgers and I would be glad if you so continued, but I would like to learn of them myself.”
“Aye, of course.”
He granted her a look. “What do you know of Perricault?”
Melissande felt her eyes narrow. “It lies to the north and is the holding of the widow, Marie, said to have wed my betrothed, Arnaud de Privas.”
Quinn in the act of donning a chemise spun to face her. “Marie?” he repeated. “The same Marie who wed Arnaud is of Perricault?”
“Aye.” Melissande blinked. “Why is that of import?”
“I am not certain,” he confessed with a frown. “But this is twice I have heard tell of Perricault in rapid succession.” He crossed the room and drew the blade that Gaultier had entrusted to her, showing her the inscription.
Melissande frowned. “Marie is Gaultier’s aunt?”
“And the woman Heloise said he courted after his uncle’s death.”
“I do not understand.”
“Nor do I, but Gaultier is said to have come to your gates, without Tulley’s recommendation, after Marie wed Arnaud de Privas.”
“Thereby breaking my betrothal to him.” Melissande shook her head. “If that were true, it would be a most curious coincidence.”
“Nay. I do not believe in coincidence, not any longer. It is a hint of a scheme.”
“But what manner of scheme?”
He met her gaze. “Surely you do not imagine that I am the sole one with the ambition to claim Annossy?”
Melissande’s thoughts spun with the implications. This tale lent credence to the one of Arnaud wedding Marie, though she still had difficulties believing Gaultier to be so deceptive. “But if Arnaud is wed to Marie, he governs Perricault. Why would he send Gaultier here?”
“Naught says he did. Gaultier, however, might have sought another noblewoman of property in the hope of making a fortuitous match.” Quinn handed her the sheathed dagger as she considered this possibility again. If Gaultier had intended to court her, she had never guessed as much. If she had done so, she would have seen that notion dismissed from his thoughts.
“You should keep this,” Quinn advised. “For it is a good blade.”
Melissande nodded.
“Though I hope you do not need to defend yourself, I am glad to see you armed.” Quinn spoke with confidence and Melissande understood that he trusted her not to use the knife against him. She would not. “I shall see this matter resolved with as much haste as possible.”
“But you dismissed Gaultier and his comrades.”
He smiled with a confidence she did not share. “I do not think we have seen the last of him. Such a lofty ambition will not be readily abandoned.”
