One Knight's Return, page 33
Bayard’s gaze locked with hers at that gesture. He took a step closer and she thought she might die of anticipation. She was vaguely aware that Sir Niall muttered something, then strode back to the hall.
She was keenly aware that Bayard stood before her, that the stars were appearing overhead, and that there was no one else worthy of consideration in the width of Christendom. When he looked at her with such intensity, she would do any deed for him.
“Then what manner of man meets with your approval?” he asked, his low words making her shiver.
“I like a man who is fair to look upon,” she managed to say. “But I like one better who can speak the truth in his heart.”
Bayard stepped closer, his expression filled with a hope that echoed her own. “And?”
“And I like a man who shares a confidence,” she admitted. She pulled his perfume bottle from her purse and his eyes lit.
“You yet have it!”
“I am not such a fool as to discard a prize,” she scoffed, then smiled at him. He closed the distance between them and looked down at her with fire in his eyes.
Berthe’s toes curled.
“I thought you smitten,” he murmured.
Berthe let her smile widen as she tipped back her head to hold his gaze. “You are right. I am utterly smitten, but not with your companion knight.” She reached out and boldly offered her hand. “I know better, sir.”
Bayard smiled as he captured her hand within his own, holding her gaze as he pressed a kiss to her palm. “Be mine?” he asked. “Quinn has offered me a post and a home, either here or at Annossy. If you wed me, Berthe, I vow to do all within my power to bring you happiness.”
“You already have, Sir Rogue,” Berthe had time to confess before Bayard caught her close and granted her a most satisfactory kiss.
Quinn was glad to leave the hall later that evening, abandoning it for the privacy of the solar. It was past time that he made a sweet confession to Melissande, especially as she had risked her life for him this day. The solar seemed large and cool when they were there alone.
He did not release her hand. “I thank you for your endorsement to Tulley. I did not think he could be swayed in my favor.”
“It is my duty to defend the interests of my lord husband.”
“Is that the sole reason you did it?”
Color flared in her cheeks. “I spoke for you because it was right. Tulley was unjust in withholding the seal and he had to know it. I merely reminded him.”
Quinn could not help but smile at her fearlessness. “You might have waited until I could watch.”
She flushed more deeply and seemed discomfited. “It was an argument that had to be made in your absence, sir.”
Sir. Again, she retreated from using his name. Quinn reached and took her hand in his, feeling that she trembled slightly.
“Is this the moment?” she asked, lifting her chin.
“Which moment would that be?”
“The one in which you declare that you mean to remain at Sayerne, and that I should return to Annossy alone. The one in which you tell me that we shall live apart instead of together, and to advise you whether I deliver of a son or not.” She continued when he did not speak. “The one in which you divide the household as you see just, and request that I send word of the babe’s gender when he or she is born.”
“I thought that you wished to hold the seal of Annossy above all else.”
“As did I.” Melissande took a breath and held his gaze. “Until I came to love my lord husband. Now I desire above all else to be by your side and become your wife in truth.”
Quinn nodded, his chest tight with emotion. He slid his thumb over her hand, awed that this lady should be his bride, his wife and his love. “It was in this chamber that my mother told me the tales shown in the tapestries she had brought as her dowry. They are all gone, of course, as is she, but I remember those tales.”
Melissande remained silent, her gaze intent.
“In every one of them, a noble and gallant knight won the love of a beautiful lady. Quite often, she was clever, too, and the way my mother told the tales, the happy couple well deserved each other.” He watched his thumb move across her hand. “They faced obstacles together, fearsome monsters, and dreadful trials, but their love for each other ensured both their success and their happiness.”
“Yet your father...”
“Yet my father was the man he was,” Quinn agreed with a sigh. “And I knew that she had loved another, but she did as bidden by her father. There was naught to be done about it, for to defy my father and her own would have been a rejection of every code of honor she knew. But she told me those tales, and she bade me find a lady deserving of my love, then do whatever was necessary to win her heart forevermore.” He lifted his gaze to Melissande’s and found himself snared by the vivid green of her eyes. “I believe I loved you from the first, my lady. My heart has been yours from before we exchanged our vows, and it is yours forevermore.”
“You love me?”
“I love you.”
Melissande flung herself toward him in her relief and Quinn smiled as he caught her close. “But you did not trust me,” she accused after he had kissed her.
“You did not trust me,” he countered, moving onto the pallet with her in his lap. “We are alike in so many matters, my Melissande.”
She laughed and curled against him in contentment. “Aye, perhaps even in our desire for the great bed in Annossy’s solar on this night of nights.”
Quinn chuckled. “We shall have one here, as well.”
“Aye. And a tapestry or two.” She lifted her hand and his mother’s ring glinted on her finger. “Oh, Quinn.” She turned her hand to grip his. “I am so honored to wear your mother’s ring.”
“I could give you no other. It was a mark of my pledge to win your love at any cost.” Quinn bent and captured her lips with his, loving how she rose to meet his embrace. His kiss soon turned incendiary and they might have surrendered to temptation, but Quinn had more to say. “Zounds, Melissande, who might have guessed that love could grow so strong so quickly? I cannot imagine my days without you.”
“Aye,” she whispered. “I love you as I never imagined I could love anyone. My only fear is that you will despise me for bringing Arnaud and his hate so close to your door.”
“Hush, my lady.” Quinn laid his fingertip across her lips. “Do not even utter his name. It was you indeed who saved me from him and that is no small thing. I am in your debt and I would take the remainder of our days to show you what that means.”
By the way his lady wife smiled, and by the way she returned his kiss, Quinn knew that she had no complaint with that.
Epilogue
It was a year after their first journey to Sayerne that Melissande retired to the solar at Sayerne. She and Quinn had ridden to that holding to oversee to the ploughing and the planting. After the evening meal and much merriment, Melissande climbed to the solar with her son in her arms.
After the roof had been repaired and the rest of the hall restored, Quinn had ordered that a great bed be built at Sayerne, much like the one at Annossy. Melissande found it nigh filling the solar, just as she had envisioned it would be. It was hung with heavy draperies, as she had wished. The braziers had already been lit in the solar for it was still cool at night and the new tapestry she had requested from the Low Countries was already hung on the wall. Melissande touched it with wonder, thinking of the stories she would tell the infant in her arms. She settled then beside the fire to nurse him while she awaited Quinn, smiling at the sound of his deep voice rising from the hall below.
Could she ever have imagined she would be this content? Could she ever have imagined that it would be her joy to see Annossy and Sayerne united, and herself the beloved wife of Jerome’s son? It defied belief, yet was so, all the same.
She and Quinn had settled into a pattern of living mostly at Annossy, but holding court monthly—on the new moon—at Sayerne. Bayard commanded the garrison at Sayerne and managed the holding for Quinn in his absence, which had ultimately cost Melissande a maid. She had known that Berthe was smitten but Bayard had been determined to offer her a home. He had built his abode at Sayerne with his own hands, with Berthe’s approval. The pair had married after Melissande was delivered of her son in January, and Berthe had moved to Sayerne then.
Melissande missed Berthe’s companionship and her competence, but loved to see the younger woman so happy. Her former maid had greeted her at the gates to see little Bayard herself and make a fuss over him. Melissande did not think she imagined that Berthe’s stomach was a little rounder than before.
Niall remained in Quinn’s service, and was always prepared to take any message or errand to Tulley. Amaury, Luc, Thierry and Lothair had left for home the previous June, along with much goodwill and many invitations to return. They had intended to halt at Viandin en route to see Rolfe. Melissande and Quinn had ridden to Viandin to visit Rolfe in the autumn, and it had filled Melissande’s heart with joy to see Quinn meet the younger sister he had never known. Annelise had been told foul lies about Quinn by Jerome but their reconciliation had been most potent.
And their infant son had been most handsome.
Tulley had developed a fierce cough during the winter and there had been concern for his welfare. To Melissande’s surprise, it had been the wife of Annossy’s miller who named a concoction that had proven to be of aid, for she had learned of it from Lothair. Tulley had taken the miller’s grandson under his care and had vowed to see the boy trained for knighthood as compensation for their aid.
Melissande settled her son into his cradle, then went to the window that overlooked the keep. She could see the spring onions coming up in the kitchen garden to her right, but there was a new garden dug before her. The soil had been turned, but she was uncertain what would be planted in this space, which was outside the walls of the kitchen garden. No doubt Quinn had a plan. The rich smell of the earth rose to her nostrils. She leaned out the window and watched the stars appear one by one as the sky deepened from indigo to black. The warm spring wind stirred her hair and the silver crescent of the moon rode high in the sky.
Melissande was more content than she had guessed it was possible to be.
All because of Quinn.
She heard his footfalls and turned to watch his approach. He granted her a smile that heated her to her toes, then she noticed the small package he carried. “I have no need of a gift,” she said, her tone teasing and he smiled.
“Nor I, but this is for both of us.”
Melissande tipped back her head to hold his gaze and was lost in the warm amber glow of his eyes. By the saints above, she loved this man with every fiber of her being.
Then Quinn offered her the box.
“It is from the East,” he said as she accepted its slight weight. “And the only thing I brought back from there besides my own hide.”
Melissande held the box toward the moonlight, seeing that there was detail on the surface. The moonlight picked out the inlay on its lid and she ran one fingertip across the wood in appreciation of the fine craftsmanship. A vine of flowers was made of ivory on the lid, the leaves delicately traced and petals lovingly drawn.
Melissande looked questioningly to Quinn.
He cleared his throat, though still his voice was gruff when he spoke. “It was given to me by Marcus, the keeper of the tavern we frequented, when he learned that we intended to leave the Holy Land. He gave a gift to each of us, all different, all mysterious in their own way.”
“Mysterious,” Melissande echoed with a smile.
“I heard the news of Sayerne and Marcus knew of that.”
“It is a lovely piece of work to grace your home.”
“Perhaps it is that. I think it is more. He said ‘When you have found the residence where you mean to remain forever, then open it and have your home blessed forevermore.’ I have debated the merit of both Annossy and Sayerne, but the truth is that my home is with you.”
She eyed him in uncertainty.
“So you must open it,” he urged.
Melissande gave the box a shake and something rustled within it. Quinn merely lifted a brow at her glance. Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box.
“Seeds!” she said with delight. The wind stirred the contents then and she understood the keeper’s instructions. She also understood why the soil had been turned below the window. “You knew!” she accused and Quinn smiled.
“I peeked, but only a week ago,” he confessed.
Melissande turned and leaned out the window, letting the wind catch and sweep the pearly seeds from their sanctuary. She watched the seeds swirl in the air, then scatter onto the freshly turned soil. “What are they?” she asked.
Quinn shrugged. “We shall see soon enough.”
“Whatever shall we do while we wait,” she mused, smiling as Quinn’s arms slipped around her waist. She leaned back against him, entwining her fingers with his. “I have an idea.”
“Do you, my lady?” he murmured in her ear, the sound still giving her shivers.
“I think our second son should be conceived at Sayerne,” she said, turning to look up at him in time to see his eyes light.
He scooped Melissande up in his arms and kissed her before he carried her to bed. It was the first night that they loved in the great bed in the solar of Sayerne.
Melissande knew it would not be the last, and that made her glad indeed.
Author’s Note
Duke Godfroi de Bouillon was one of the nobles who answered Pope Urban II’s call for the First Crusade at the end of the eleventh century. Godfroi left his estates in what is now Belgium to fight in the Holy Land. Later he was elected ruler of the conquered city of Jerusalem and chose the title Defender of the Holy Sepulchre.
Godfroi died of a fever a year later, but there is an old story that on his deathbed, he gave a box to one of his knights. He bade the knight take the box home for him and open it there. The knight did so, only to find that the box was full of seeds, which were blown into the courtyard of Château Bouillon.
Every spring, wild pinks still bloom there and the story maintains that these are the descendants of the seeds Godfroi sent home from Jerusalem a thousand years ago.
Thanks for reading One Knight’s Return.
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The next book in the Rogues & Angels series will be Niall and Heloise’s story, One Knight’s Desire.
All my best—
Claire
About the Author
Deborah Cooke sold her first book in 1992, a medieval romance called Romance of the Rose published under her pseudonym Claire Delacroix. Since then, she has published over fifty novels in a wide variety of sub-genres, including historical romance, contemporary romance, paranormal romance, fantasy romance, time-travel romance, women’s fiction, paranormal young adult and fantasy with romantic elements. She has published under the names Claire Delacroix, Claire Cross and Deborah Cooke. The Beauty, part of her successful Bride Quest series of historical romances, was her first title to land on the New York Times List of Bestselling Books. Her books routinely appear on other bestseller lists and have won numerous awards. In 2009, she was the writer-in-residence at the Toronto Public Library, the first time the library has hosted a residency focused on the romance genre. In 2012, she was honored to receive the Romance Writers of America’s Mentor of the Year Award.
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Currently, she writes contemporary romances and paranormal romances under the name Deborah Cooke. She also writes medieval romances as Claire Delacroix. Deborah lives in Canada with her husband and family, as well as far too many unfinished knitting projects.
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Visit Deborah’s Website and Blog
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Visit Claire’s Website and Blog
More Books by the Author
Books by Claire Delacroix
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Rogues & Angels
ONE KNIGHT ENCHANTED
ONE KNIGHT’S RETURN
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Time Travel Romances
ONCE UPON A KISS
THE LAST HIGHLANDER
THE MOONSTONE
LOVE POTION #9
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The Bride Quest
THE PRINCESS
THE DAMSEL
THE HEIRESS
THE COUNTESS
THE BEAUTY
THE TEMPTRESS
* * *
The Rogues of Ravensmuir
THE ROGUE
THE SCOUNDREL
THE WARRIOR
* * *
The Jewels of Kinfairlie
THE BEAUTY BRIDE
THE ROSE RED BRIDE
THE SNOW WHITE BRIDE
The Ballad of Rosamunde
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The True Love Brides
THE RENEGADE’S HEART
THE HIGHLANDER’S CURSE
THE FROST MAIDEN’S KISS
THE WARRIOR’S PRIZE
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The Brides of Inverfyre
THE MERCENARY’S BRIDE
THE RUNAWAY BRIDE
