One Knight's Return, page 31
Quinn laughed. “Ever practical,” he teased.
“People who labor hard have strong appetites and hunger leads only to dissent.” She lifted her chin. “If he has not seen fit to contribute, I shall speak to Lord Tulley.”
“It looks to be a small party,” Quinn mused. He was right, to Melissande’s relief. Though they wore Tulley’s colors, there looked to be only three of them.
“Perhaps a messenger warning of his pending arrival,” she suggested.
“Perhaps.” Quinn inclined his head to her, then turned Fortitude to gallop past the party and greet his liege lord’s messenger.
Melissande watched him go, thinking of how he had never confessed to tender feelings for her. Surely, he would not insist that they live separately, one at Annossy and one at Sayerne? She had conceived his child and only God knew if it would be a boy. There was naught more she could do until the child was born to secure her husband’s affection and perhaps not even then.
Surely, this would not be the end?
Quinn’s first day in residence at Sayerne was a wondrous one. He saw the work begun and aided in many tasks himself, lending a hand to a wagon stuck in the mud, clearing debris from the bailey and carrying wood for the smith to light his fire. He carried seed and even led the ploughhorse for the first furrow, smiling at the cheers of his villeins. It was a long day of hard labor, but he welcomed it.
Meanwhile, Melissande had been busy in the hall with the help of Louis. The place looked a hundred times better than it had earlier that very day, and the change was welcome. The boys had patched the roof and lit fires in the great fireplaces. There were benches and tables set up and a cold meal for all who had accompanied them. There was a barrel of ale from Annossy, as well as bread and bacon and cheese. Quinn was certain no fare had ever tasted so fine.
Afterward, Niall raised his voice and gave them a song, and some of the villeins danced as the others clapped in time. Quinn slept before the fire on a straw pallet, Melissande tightly against his side, with her father’s fur-lined cloak over them both.
No ghosts haunted his dreams that night, but perhaps he was too tired.
At first light, he rose with Niall to ride out to hunt, giving Melissande a kiss farewell. “Remember that Tulley himself comes this day,” he reminded her with a smile.
“How could I forget?”
“We had best ensure a fine meal.”
“He had best bring the wine if he wants it,” she said, kissing him in return. “Good luck this day.”
“And to you.”
Louis arrived then, as crisp and efficient as ever. “Do not forget the small game, my lord,” he said with a smile. “And George is always glad of eggs.”
“Aye, for the meat must be hung and we have need of something for this night,” Quinn replied with a smile. “I will take three of the boys with me in anticipation of success. They can seek nests while Niall and I hunt larger game.”
He left the hall with purpose and a whistle on his lips, savoring his sense that all came together most well.
It was when Quinn was saddling Fortitude that Melissande first saw the lone rider. He remained under the cover of trees in the distance, close to the barn on the perimeter of Sayerne. Melissande narrowed her eyes, wondering if she had imagined him. He retreated into the shadow of the forest, disappearing as if he had never been, as Niall and Quinn rode toward the gates, and she feared that the light played tricks upon her.
And then there was too much to be done to think upon it.
Tulley arrived by midday, with more supplies than Melissande might have hoped. He brought a large party of men to rebuild the homes of the villeins and the keep itself, and vowed that there were stone masons en route to repair the walls. The smith fired his forge to see the gates repaired and to make nails for the workers, and seed was unloaded from wagons with much satisfaction.
Melissande saw horses stabled and palettes arranged, a place made for Tulley himself for that night, and an order of precedence established for the work. Quinn had discussed most of it with her, and she followed his instructions. To her delight, Heloise had accompanied her uncle, and was quick to offer her assistance with the kitchen garden of the keep itself. Melissande worked with her there, along with Berthe, to plant the seeds after the earth had been loosened by the villeins. There was so much to be done that no one could be idle—even the Lord de Tulley took a turn at casting seeds into the furrows, much to the delight of the villeins. Lothair was busy tending the inevitable minor injuries. To Melissande’s surprise, Luc and Thierry showed great skill in guiding the ox that pulled the plough.
She even had the opportunity to confer with Tulley, a discussion that seemed to amuse her overlord greatly and one that she feared would yield no result.
Melissande was returning to the keep to confer with Louis and George about the preparations for the evening meal when she chose to climb to the summit of the wall. The stones had tumbled down, making almost a stairway, and she could not resist the impulse to look for Quinn.
What she saw instead was that lone rider again.
In the late afternoon light, she could see him more clearly. His was a fine horse, one richly caparisoned, and large enough to be a destrier. He sat tall in the saddle and she thought the light glinted off chain mail.
A knight.
But who?
She was inclined to alert Lothair, but the fact that the knight was alone gave her pause. He did not lead an army. He did not arrive as a guest, or travel with his entourage. Knights did not ride alone in her experience. It was most curious. From whence had he come and what was his destination? Perhaps he meant to return to some abode, but the day drew to an end and there was little within range.
Melissande could not stifle her dread, or her sense that he looked back at her. He turned the horse, the creature flicking its tail before stepping back into the shadows of the forest. She saw that the caparisons were golden with some black insignia.
Her mouth went dry.
Privas had a gold banner with a black hawk emblazoned on it.
There was only one son remaining of the family of Privas: Arnaud, her former betrothed.
Why would Arnaud come to the perimeter of Sayerne and gaze upon it? He must know that she had wed Quinn, but still.
Was he truly wedded to Marie de Perricault?
If so, it made no sense that he should be so far from Perricault.
If not, his presence made even less sense.
Then Melissande recalled something that had not seemed right, though she could not have said why at the time. Quinn had said that Gaultier had come from Perricault, that he had courted his aunt, Marie, until she wed another. Quinn believed that man to be Arnaud, but he did not know what Gaultier had told her when Quinn had ridden out to the mill. Indeed, Melissande had nigh forgotten the words of her former Captain of the Guard herself.
“Tulley told me that he had a plan, and that my tenure at Annossy would not be a long one.”
But Gaultier had not been sent to Annossy by Tulley. Had someone else told him that his time at Annossy would be short?
Who had sent him?
Melissande bit her lip as she recalled more of Gaultier’s words, from the morning he had warned her against Quinn.
“If you died, my lady, Annossy would remain your husband’s holding and he would be free to wed whosoever he chose. Perhaps a man held so high in Tulley’s favor might even wed Tulley’s niece.”
And upon Tulley’s demise, she had realized then, the entire valley would fall to that man’s hand.
Melissande had to wonder how Gaultier had concocted such a scheme to explain Quinn’s choices. What if Gaultier had heard the plan from another and twisted it, attributing the motives of that other man to Quinn? After all, she had been the one assaulted by Gaultier.
What if she had not been Gaultier’s target in truth? What if he had intended to abduct her, not to kill her? For then, Quinn would follow to defend her, of that no man could have any doubt.
Perhaps it had been a scheme to ensure Quinn’s demise.
For if Quinn were to die—especially if she carried Quinn’s child—Sayerne might fall to Melissande as well as Annossy. She would be a widow and might be commanded to take a spouse again. Arnaud might see the old betrothal upheld, claim Annossy, Sayerne and perhaps Privas. If he had wed Marie, he might put her aside and annul their agreement. If he had not wed her, then there would be no obstacle.
Would Melissande meet her own end, if she protested? That would leave Arnaud available to court Heloise and her inheritance.
Gaultier had not invented the scheme himself. She was certain of it. He had heard it from another and the presence of a knight wearing Privas’ colors gave credence to the notion.
If Arnaud had wed Marie, then he was the man who had wed Gaultier’s rich widowed aunt and they would thus have been known to each other.
What if Gaultier had been sent to Annossy by Arnaud?
And now this rider, wearing the colors of Privas, lurked in the forest where Quinn hunted.
It could not be coincidence.
She must be right.
Melissande heard the hunting horn in the distance. She realized that Quinn would pass near to the place where the rider was hidden. Was he still with Niall or had they parted ways? She recalled with a chill that he had said he would send the boys in search of eggs.
If he perceived the presence of Arnaud and guessed the scheme, Quinn would send the others to safety and face his opponent alone. Melissande knew his protective nature well. But if he did not realize the threat, he might ride into a trap unawares.
If she was right, she could lose all of import this day.
Though she prayed she had leapt to conclusions, Melissande had to know for certain.
“My horse!” she cried, knowing she had to intervene.
Lothair considered her with alarm as she hastened from the vantage point, but she wanted him to remain at Sayerne.
“I hear the horns,” she said with a smile. “I would ride out to see how the hunt has fared.”
Lothair frowned, but Melissande hurried past him, urging the squires to hasten. The knight followed, protesting, but she reminded him of his responsibilities and climbed into the saddle with confidence.
“You can see the forest from here!” she chided. “I will be as safe as here by your side.”
She was not nearly convinced of that, but she had to warn Quinn.
Lothair protested, but she turned the horse, ignoring him. She gave the palfrey her heels and trotted through gates and village, waved to the villagers, then urged the beast to a run. Quinn’s horn sounded again and Melissande prayed that she would not arrive too late.
Chapter 16
Quinn was not alone.
He was crouched beside the stag, ensuring it was dead, when he first heard the other horse. He thought perhaps it was Niall or one of the boys, but could not imagine why they would remain hidden in the underbrush. Anyone within earshot would have heard him pursue the stag, never mind his cry of triumph when the bolt struck home.
He moved with purpose, as if unaware, and listened. He gutted the stag, leaving the offal for other creatures in the forest, then slung it over the back of his saddle. Fortitude flared his nostrils and stamped a foot, but Quinn took his time ensuring that the deer was securely bound. He went all around Fortitude, scanning the forest as he moved.
He spied the rider’s silhouette, then a flick of cloth.
A cloak?
Caparisons?
The hair prickled on the back of his neck with the awareness that he was watched. He swung into the saddle again and turned Fortitude back toward the path. He had planned to meet the others there and hoped they had been fortunate as well. He kept his hand on his crossbow and gave no indication that he heard the twig snap to his right. From the periphery of his vision, he glimpsed the rider again.
Caparisons.
Gold with a black insignia. How Quinn wished he recognized it.
He was considering the merit of raising his voice and greeting the other rider, when he heard galloping hoof beats from the path. He straightened and saw the flicker of the other horse moving through the undergrowth. The horse cantered and then galloped, but the arriving horse was turned in its course. Quinn quietly followed the sound of hoof beats.
“Arnaud!” Melissande cried and Quinn’s heart stopped cold. He did not move. “Arnaud de Privas! I thought those were your colors!” Her tone was charming and light, as if she welcomed a guest to Annossy. He must hear this conversation.
He found his lady upon her palfrey in a stream, facing a knight on a dapple destrier with golden caparisons. Her palfrey stepped with agitation, as if disliking that they stood in the flow of water. Quinn wondered if it was aware of its rider’s mood. Melissande rode the same palfrey often and though she smiled, he sensed a tension in her.
Because she feared discovery?
Or because she feared Arnaud? Quinn dismounted, left Fortitude, and eased closer. He circled around the pair to a better vantage point, glad of the sound of the water. He halted where he had a clear view of Arnaud.
He loaded a bolt into his crossbow, more than prepared to use it. He must strike Arnaud in the throat to ensure the blow was fatal, for the other knight wore his armor. Indeed, Arnaud had not even abandoned his helmet, which was vexing. It was a narrow target and Quinn could have done without the undergrowth in between them. He would have one shot and he would make it count.
He tried to ease closer in silence and still remain unseen.
“Whatever are you doing here?” Melissande asked lightly.
“And where is here?” her companion replied.
Melissande laughed lightly. “Sayerne, of course.”
“But not so far from Privas, surely?”
“I suppose not, though surely that keep is abandoned.”
“But my family legacy, all the same. I ride to hunt but have lost my party.” He gave a little laugh. “The boar was doughty and I could not resist the chance to take him. I outran my entire party in the pursuit.”
“By considerable distance, it appears,” Melissande said, looking left and right.
“Aye, that it does.”
“And yet, you have no boar,” she noted.
“Alas, he escaped. They are most wily when cornered.”
“How strange that I saw you hours ago, this morn, and you were close to this place and alone.”
Arnaud chuckled but Quinn heard his displeasure. “Who can say how long I have wandered?”
“Surely you did not spend the night in the forest?”
“Surely there are matters of greater interest than that,” Arnaud said, his tone steely.
“Surely not,” Melissande said, almost in an undertone, but Arnaud ignored her.
Quinn also found it curious that the other man had been in the forest in the morning. What was his scheme?
And what was Melissande’s?
Arnaud’s voice warmed. “And you look hale, my lady. How many years has it been?”
“At least twenty,” Melissande replied. “I should not have known you but I recognized your colors.”
So, they had not spoken of late. Quinn was reassured.
Unless, of course, this conversation was for his benefit.
“Aye, dear beloved Privas.” Arnaud sighed. “How fares wondrous Annossy?”
“Well enough. I suppose you have heard that I am wed.”
“To the son of Jerome de Sayerne.” Arnaud clicked his tongue. “A sad waste indeed.”
Melissande said naught at all.
“That is, of course, why I sought you out,” Arnaud continued.
“Here at Sayerne, but not at Annossy? How enterprising of you to surmise my location.”
Arnaud laughed.
Quinn was glad that Melissande did not.
“I have a proposition for you, Melissande.”
“I imagine that you do.”
“You do not look surprised.”
“I think I know your wager.”
“Then tell me of it and I shall tell you if you are right.”
“I think you mean to ensure the demise of my lord husband and thence to force me to become your wife.”
“Melissande! Surely you do not have to be compelled to keep your sworn word?” Arnaud’s tone was silky. “We were betrothed by our fathers’ choice.”
“And I was wed to Quinn by Tulley’s command. I carry his child. Tulley will not tolerate your interference in this matter, nor will he entrust you with Annossy and Privas, as well. He distrusts you, Arnaud, and I am persuaded to take his view.”
“You carry your husband’s child?” Arnaud repeated.
“Aye.” Melissande sat proudly and Quinn’s heart swelled at the sight of her.
“Even better,” Arnaud whispered. “Tulley will not be able to deny me Sayerne.” He moved with lightning speed, drawing his sword and slashing at Melissande’s palfrey. The horse, perhaps with Melissande’s urging, retreated quickly, but stumbled on the rocks in the river bed. It fell and Melissande fell from the saddle, catching herself on the low branches of an overhanging tree. Arnaud slashed at the horse again and the palfrey ran, its reins trailing in the river.
Melissande was knee-deep in the water, watching Arnaud warily as her breath came quickly. Curse the woman, she was standing between Quinn and his target, ensuring that his shot was not clear.
“Join me,” Arnaud invited, his sword pointed now at her.
“Never,” she said with welcome heat. “Your scheme has failed, Arnaud. Quinn saw the truth of Gaultier’s deception, but I am the one who guessed that your true target was my lord husband. I will never aid you in attacking Quinn.” Now Melissande’s tone was hard.
“How sad that you make this choice,” he murmured.
“Just as you make yours. Recall your knightly vows, Arnaud, and lower your blade.”
“And is it a choice when a man must act against his own desire to survive?” Arnaud asked.
