One Knight's Return, page 4
“Surely, Quinn, you intend to wed?”
“Aye, my lord,” he said with haste. “It is only the timing that is of concern. Sayerne is in need of repair and I would not expect any lady to endure such circumstances.” His voice gained assurance as he made his argument. “Grant me but a year, my lord, that my home might be fitting for a bride and then I will welcome your counsel.”
To his disappointment, Tulley frowned.
“Nay, Quinn, a year will not do. The matter must be resolved immediately or I cannot invest you with the estate.”
Quinn was shocked to have his fear so calmly presented as a possibility. Was he only to glimpse Sayerne then be denied it? He cast his thoughts back to Tulley’s missive, the one summoning him home, and realized the older man had promised naught.
He had simply notified Quinn of Jerome’s death and urged him to return to Sayerne.
Quinn felt as if a cold hand seized his innards.
Tulley seated himself and frowned. “Your marriage will solve more than you know.” The lord darted a glance to the lady. “Will it not, Melissande?”
The lady caught her breath in obvious disapproval. Quinn noted that she was even more affronted by the suggestion than he.
Indeed, she could not hold her tongue. She stepped toward Tulley and appealed to him. “Sir! Spare me your praise of this vagabond!” she said. “It is more than enough that some son of Jerome has come to claim that cursed family’s holding, without you greeting him as a saint!”
Quinn felt obliged to argue. “I may be no saint, my lady, but do not call my family cursed.”
The lady turned upon him with flashing eyes. “Whyever not?” she demanded. “They might as well have been cursed, as a result of your father’s choices.”
“I cannot answer for my father...”
“Tell me then why villeins fled your father’s land at every opportunity. Tell me why no less than two dozen of his bastards born of serving wenches populate the countryside, each and every one denied the bounty of his hall. The women themselves were cast to the winds when their condition became evident. Explain to me, if you will, why every year until this one I have been obliged to argue with that foul man over the boundaries between Sayerne and Annossy. Perhaps you can tell me the fate of the grain that was stolen out of my warehouses every winter.”
Her lips tightened as her gaze swept over him and he found himself stirred by her fury. She was no ice maiden, but a dragon filled with fire and fury. Her eyes flashed and Quinn was entranced.
“Jerome de Sayerne was a dreadful neighbor and it is difficult to expect any better from his son!” She lifted her chin and glared directly into Quinn’s eyes. “Perhaps you, mercenary that you are, might explain to me who raids my estates even now.” She pointed her finger toward his chest and he noted how small and fine it was. “I would not put such a deed past the get of Jerome de Sayerne. One way or the other, he pledged to merge Annossy with Sayerne. Know this, sir, that I pledged to stop him from realizing that dream, no matter the cost.”
Annossy. She was the Lady of Annossy. Quinn remembered that the estate bordered upon Sayerne, before he resolved to set matters to rights with his neighbor.
When she made to enunciate her last point with another jab of her finger, Quinn snatched her hand out of the air. Her skin was surprisingly soft. She was so startled that her eyes widened slightly. She made to step back, but Quinn did not release her hand.
“And I tell you, my lady, that my sire and I parted ways twenty years past because of our differences,” he said in a low growl. “I am as unlike him as oil to water.”
Her fine eyes narrowed. “Your father was also deceptive, when it suited him.”
“I am not,” Quinn growled. No one called him a liar, even a beauty such as this.
“We shall see,” she replied, undaunted. She squared her shoulders and tried to tug her hand from his. Quinn held fast. “Mercenaries plague my borders,” she said through gritted teeth. “And you appear to be a mercenary.” She met his gaze in silent challenge. “I do not need such a man as a neighbor.”
“If Tulley wills it, you will have one all the same.”
“How much do you know about the raids on Annossy, Quinn de Sayerne?” she asked.
“Naught,” Quinn replied, admiring her spirit. “I have returned from the Holy Land this very week, my lady. You see not a mercenary before you, but a knight in sore need of a bath.” He smiled slowly, but the lady stared at him. She seemed disarmed by his jest and he savored the fact that he had surprised her.
He suspected it did not occur often.
Her gaze flicked from his smile to his eyes, then over his clothing. “You can be no knight,” she whispered. Her voice faltered and he did not doubt she was recalling the reference to his spurs.
“But I am.”
“He speaks the truth, Melissande,” Tulley interjected. “I sent for him upon Jerome’s death. Quinn speaks the truth, as he always did.”
At Tulley’s endorsement, Quinn’s smile broadened. He was surprised to see that rosy flush staining the lady’s cheeks again as she watched him. Indeed, her cheeks were afire, and she looked more alluring by the moment. She flicked a significant glance to her hand trapped within his and tried again to pull it free.
Quinn loosed his grasp upon her hand, then brushed his lips across its back.
She shivered at the touch of his lips and her eyes widened, their hue brilliant emerald before she dropped her gaze to hide her reaction.
But Quinn had seen it.
And he was intrigued.
“I beg your pardon for my appearance, my lady,” he said. “It is my pleasure to make the acquaintance of a neighbor.”
The lady’s lips tightened and she stood taller, that beguiling fire in her eyes once again.
Tulley cleared his throat and Quinn reluctantly turned his attention from the lady to his lord.
“Melissande d’Annossy will be far more than your neighbor, Quinn,” Tulley said. “She will be your wife.”
Too late, Quinn realized where this conversation had been directed all along. He felt like a fool for not guessing the truth sooner, and wondered if Melissande’s understanding had been responsible for her vehemence.
“My lord, nay!” she protested.
“You would refuse to wed me, despite the lord’s command?” he asked her.
Her sidelong glance was filled with disdain. “I would refuse to wed any man of your father’s seed.”
“And I would protest wedding a woman who fails to obey her feudal lord.”
She spun to face him, propping her hands upon her hips. “I am the one who understands how to administer a holding so that it prospers.”
“And I am the one who understands how to defend a border,” Quinn retorted, echoing her posture. “If Annossy is subject to raids, you should be glad of a spouse like me.”
“I am not!”
“Then you are a fool as well as a beauty,” Quinn said shortly. She gasped in outrage and he wondered if she would strike him.
Then her gaze flicked to Tulley and she fell silent with an obvious effort.
“Neither of your protests have any meaning at all,” Tulley said mildly. “For I have decided. You will be wed this very day.”
“This very day?” the lady echoed.
“Today?” Quinn repeated, thinking of his dirty garb.
“Today,” Tulley agreed. “Might I remind you, Quinn, that you are not invested yet with your estates. Should you not do my bidding, as any obedient vassal should, I will be obliged to find another to whom I might entrust Sayerne.”
Quinn dropped to one knee and bowed his head, but Tulley was not done.
“I have arrived at a solution that will serve the needs of you both. I charge you, Quinn, to eliminate the raids on Annossy as your first responsibility.”
It appeared that Tulley had a list of tasks. Quinn did not argue, but listened. Marriage first, brigands second. He hoped at some point, the seal of Sayerne would land within his grasp.
He bowed over Tulley’s hand. “As this is your condition, my lord, I will make this marriage in good faith.”
The lady hesitated before she spoke. Tulley cleared his throat and she spoke, her tone filled with resignation. “As will I.”
Quinn felt his eyes narrow. He was not that foul a choice of spouse.
Tulley’s gaze flicked between the two of them. “It seems that there is a lack of enthusiasm for this match. Perhaps even now one or both of you harbor plans of annulment.”
No one denied the accusation.
Tulley leaned forward, his manner intent. “Understand me well: there will be no annulment. Do not expect otherwise, for I will demand proof of consummation at first light tomorrow morning.”
“My lord!” the lady protested.
“It is only good sense,” Tulley concluded.
Quinn could not look at the lady after such a deliberate mention of intimate matters. Indeed, he felt a warmth spread through him, and he recalled his first impression of her beauty. It might not be all bad to consummate this match.
Should she allow it. He would not force her, to be sure.
“Perhaps I named the wrong man barbarian,” she muttered, as though she could not restrain herself from comment.
Quinn’s gaze flew to Tulley, certain she would be chastised for her rudeness, but the older man only smiled.
“Since I have known you so long, Melissande, and understand the strain of this situation, I will let your audacity pass.” He stood and brushed at his tabard before smiling at them both. “Shall we say within the hour?”
Quinn nodded. He saw the lady do the same, with reluctance.
Tulley smiled. “I should think that commitment to wed would be sealed with a kiss.”
The lady’s cheeks blazed crimson. Quinn swallowed and felt clumsy. It had been so long since he had touched a woman, and the lady’s manner was less than encouraging.
But Tulley watched and waited. Quinn had little choice.
All hung in the balance.
He would meet her in good faith.
The lady did not aid in the endeavor. She stood motionless, waiting, fists clenched at her sides. Quinn knew that he would have to initiate this embrace. He stepped closer and the softness of her scent caught him by surprise. Did she wear perfume? He had forgotten such feminine charms. Something tightened within him, but she did not so much as meet his gaze.
Curse her! They were both beholden to Tulley and it would be simpler if she met him halfway. Riding into battle was less of a challenge than this. Quinn hoped that she mustered some enthusiasm for his touch by the time they met abed.
In truth, it mattered little.
He would not sacrifice his inheritance.
He took a step closer and heard her catch her breath. Still, she stared fixedly ahead. He lifted his hand and gently touched two fingers beneath her chin. She shivered, but did not otherwise move. He coaxed her chin upward so that he might meet her gaze, but she closed her eyes. No doubt she wanted to leave him ignorant of her thoughts.
Would she defy him in every matter, every day? He began to suspect as much.
Would she vex him with such vigor for the rest of his life? Quinn already wondered.
But he would not be deterred. Quinn bent and brushed his lips across hers. He felt the lady shiver again, though there was no other change in her posture.
It was after his hand had dropped away that he saw her single tear. It shimmered as it slipped through her lashes then over her cheek and she did not wipe it away.
Quinn felt like a knave, although he did not truly understand her response. Surely one light kiss could not be so burdensome as to cause a tear?
Tulley cleared his throat. By the time Quinn glanced to his overlord and back to the lady, that tear might never have been. Melissande exhaled shakily and opened her eyes.
Still she did not so much as glance at him.
What manner of woman had Quinn agreed to marry? A maiden of ice or one of unexpected fire? A woman who dared to challenge him, and to vex him, yet one who stirred his blood as never before. A woman of keen wits, to be sure, and one with the tongue of a viper; one who believed naught good of him at all.
He wondered how he would survive this match.
He wondered if he could win her, with time. It would be a challenge, to be sure, but to have this lady fight on his side, by his side, would be an achievement of merit. It could be the kind of marriage his mother had told him about, when she had shared those old tales of chivalry, the kind she had urged him to seek for himself.
Quinn was skeptical of his success with this lady as his wife, but he was determined to try.
“I would suggest you both summon some enthusiasm in short order,” Tulley said, then left the chamber. His boots sounded in the corridor and Quinn heard him call for his châtelain.
Perhaps in this moment, he and Melissande could reach a detente.
Chapter 2
Melissande was humiliated. Not only was her pledge ignored but she was compelled to wed Jerome’s son within the hour. Worse, Tulley himself would check the linens in the morning for evidence of the match’s consummation. Her agreement was not sufficient to appease him and that irked her beyond all.
If only Jerome’s son had not returned with such haste, she might have found Arnaud herself. She did not believe that he had betrayed their vow and wed Marie instead. Why else would Tulley insist upon both haste and blood on the linens? Obviously, he feared that Melissande would learn the truth and demand an annulment. Tulley had a plan and meant to see it brought to fruition before either she or this warrior could choose otherwise. Once their match was consummated, they would be compelled to remain wed.
Until death did so part them.
It said much for her frustration that she wondered how soon that moment might arrive.
“This is your fault!” she said, turning her frustration upon Jerome’s son. “Could you not have remained abroad? Or lingered in some city to delay your return?”
“Me?” he echoed. “What man would not make haste to claim his inheritance?” He lifted a brow. “And truly, it has taken a year to ride from Palestine. I could not be expected to linger more than that, lest Tulley change his mind.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I already feared I might come too late.”
It seemed he did know Tulley sufficiently well to recognize that their liege lord could be changeable. “Aye, why not hasten home, when you gain Annossy in the bargain?”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed her. “I came for Sayerne.”
“And you are welcome to it.”
“It is a fine holding.”
“It is a ruin.” Melissande folded her arms across her chest, feeling that the chamber was too small with this large and masculine man beside her. She was aware of his attention and his mood, and even of the heat of his skin. “Sayerne is neglected beyond hope of repair and you are a fool to even imagine it can be rebuilt in a lifetime.”
He smiled, ever so slightly, and the sight made her heart skip. The expression softened his features and weakened her resistance with dangerous ease. “Perhaps I am a fool when it comes to matters of holdings and administration. Perhaps I have need of your counsel.”
“No woman finds it alluring to be considered useful.”
Quinn’s smile broadened and her heart skipped again. “That is a harsh summary, my lady. Do you not think a man and wife should confer together to decide what is best for their holdings?”
How could Jerome’s son know about a good marriage and how it might work?
“I do not think that the affluence of Annossy should be used to pay for the rebuilding of Sayerne.” There, she had said it aloud.
His expression turned thoughtful and she wondered if she had given him an idea. “When we are joined in marriage, the holdings will become one.”
Melissande closed her eyes at that prospect.
“And be administered as one,” he continued.
“Just as your father desired.”
“Perhaps. Of greater import is Tulley’s desire in this matter.”
Tulley. Melissande gritted her teeth in vexation.
Quinn took a step closer and lifted her hand in his, unfurling her fingers with a stroke of his finger. God in heaven, it was persuasive for such a powerful man to touch her so gently. “My lady, I think we have little choice but to cede to Tulley in this, and endeavor to make the best of a match neither of us anticipated.” His tone was yet more persuasive.
“Or desired,” she added.
“But it must be so. And perhaps there is advantage to be found in our union.” His words were compelling and his voice low. Melissande had a difficult time catching her breath. Quinn de Sayerne had a charm about him, to be certain. Having that amber gaze fixed upon her disturbed her more than she would have liked to admit, never mind having her fingers caught in the warmth of his hand. Her gaze lifted to the firm outline of his lips, but she glanced away before he could make more of her reaction than was justified.
Quinn de Sayerne had accepted her hand only to obtain his inheritance.
He needed Annossy’s wealth to restore Sayerne.
And what would be left of Annossy when he was done? Both she and her parents before her had labored too hard to lose everything at Tulley’s whim.
She tugged her hand from Quinn’s grasp. To her surprise, he released her fingers without a fight.
Melissande shuddered to think that Jerome had triumphed after all.
“Surely you cannot find my presence so loathsome as that?” Quinn asked. “We scarce know each other.”
“But I know your goal. How do you imagine that you will make Sayerne prosper again?” she asked. “The estate has been mismanaged for as long as I can recall. Where will you find the coin to do it? Do you have any notion of the cost? You would be better off to pledge your blade elsewhere and move on. You do not even have a villein to call your own.”
Color rose on Quinn’s neck. Melissande wondered whether she had pushed him too far, although she had done no more than state the truth. What was this man like when he was furious? She had a strange desire to know, to see his composure shattered, to know the truth of him in a temper.
