She looked anxious, as if worried he might refuse. Nothing could be further from his mind. He thanked her and accepted, then lay on his bed, arms behind his head. An evening in the intriguing Madame Tanet’s company would be just what he needed to lift his spirits.
* * *
To Jack’s frustration, he was seated nowhere near Madame Tanet. She had said they would not be alone, but he was not expecting as many people to be present in the hall. Two long tables were end on to a smaller one on a slightly raised platform in front of a stone fireplace. There was a hierarchy as the guests dressed in more elaborately cut and trimmed clothing sat closest to the fire, while those dressed in plainer garb such as Jack wore were further away. Jack was motioned towards a seat halfway down. He sat silently, listening to the other guests talk of their lives, but not able to join in. No one spoke to him. He might as well have been invisible and wished he had not come. He used his time watching for clues to the identity of Bleiz Mor in case the pirate was among them, though the man could be anyone, given that Jack had only seen eyes between the mask and hat. Did even Madame Tanet and the two men in her company know his true identity? Jack reasoned they must. He could not speak for the men, but his hostess seemed far from being a fool.
Madame Tanet sat at the table facing the room. Ronec and Andrey, who had taken him to the beach, sat at either side of her. Despite this, she smiled at him and gave every impression of being attentive to his words.
Jack gave his attention to the fish and vegetable stew with a hint of cider in the liquor. It was exceedingly good and he finished his serving quickly, wiping his bread around the bowl to scoop up the last traces. He sat back and looked up again and found Madame Tanet’s eyes were on him. As Jack met her gaze the corner of her mouth tilted upwards. He smiled back, pleased that she had noticed him. She gestured towards her bowl and raised an eyebrow. Jack grinned, tilting his bowl to show it was empty. Madame Tanet called a serving boy across, whispered in his ear and Jack’s bowl was refilled before he realised. He gave a flourish of his hand in thanks and her eyes grew merry.
Presently, Madame Tanet stood and began to walk around the room, making conversation with her household. Ronec followed close behind her. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear from behind. It was clear that Madame Tanet did not welcome Ronec’s attentions from the way she leaned away from him and her shoulders tensed. He would not have been able to see her brief expression of distaste but Jack, watching closely, did not miss it.
She moved with grace about the room. She was not as young as the maids they whistled after—and Jack thought that it would be a brave man who catcalled at Madame Tanet—but she moved with poise and a knowing look in her eye that meant each man’s gaze lingered after she had passed beyond his presence, even when they had a wife or woman sitting beside them. Most of the guests obviously desired her and Jack added himself to their number. She passed Jack just as he was lifting his cup to his lips. She didn’t stop to speak to him but, as he stared at her over the rim of his cup, her eyes slid sideways to settle briefly on him. She slowed her pace and her eyelashes beat rapidly before she carried on.
She returned to her table and stood before it, then began speaking. Silence descended. Servants began handing out small cups of something that, from the meagre measures, was probably deadly strong. Jack sniffed it and caught apples. Madame Tanet thanked the villagers for attending, praised their work on her land and reminded them that this was the way to prosper, not the dishonourable act of wrecking. She ended with a toast to the rightful Duke of Brittany, which was taken up with loud enthusiasm. She held her cup aloft, then tipped the contents down her throat in one, tilting her head back to reveal the creamy throat and angular jaw. Jack couldn’t picture anything more erotic than the lines of her bared neck leading down to the dip at the base of her throat. He wondered what she would look like beneath her gown, when her breasts were released from the captivity of the bodice that currently pushed them into round mounds, and the curves of her thighs and belly were revealed rather than hinted at by the folds and sway of her skirts. Jack tossed back his own cup and coughed as the drink burned his throat and wound a hot path down into his belly.
Madame Tanet slipped from the hall while the musicians struck up a lively tune and guests rushed to form a circle, performing a dance that they had clearly done many times before. Jack watched until the shrill pipes began to make his head feel like a hive of bees had taken up residence, then left. A walk in the courtyard would clear his head before he went to bed.
As he reached the door, he heard Madame Tanet’s voice coming from the floor above. She sounded angry, then footsteps started to descend rapidly. A low mutter of a male voice answered and the tone was definitely threatening. Jack’s scalp prickled and he paused, recognising the voice. He should return to the hall or leave the building, but leaving Madame Tanet to face an angry-sounding Ronec was not in his nature. Quickly he slipped into the shadows and waited.
Chapter Eight
Madame Tanet rounded the spiral staircase, closely followed by Ronec. Even if Jack had not overheard the angry exchange, the look of ferocity on her face would have been enough indication that she was extremely angry. Ronec seized her by the arm, halting her descent.
‘Hear me out,’ he growled.
‘Take your hands off me,’ Madame Tanet exclaimed. ‘In my house, with my servants around, you dare do this!’
She was furious, but Jack sensed fear beneath the anger and had no doubt Ronec noticed it, too, as he appeared to have no intention of obeying her. Jack’s hackles rose. He’d already taken a dislike to Ronec and this confirmed his hatred was well founded. He stepped forward.
‘I believe Madame Tanet asked you to release her.’
Both Madame Tanet and Ronec turned. Jack kept his body purposefully relaxed, though temper was surging inside him, keen to be freed.
‘Do as she says,’ Jack said softly. He bunched his fists. If Ronec decided to fight, Jack knew he would lose, but he would give it his best. He hoped Ronec would not realise how weak he still felt.
Ronec slowly released his hand from Madame Tanet’s arm, glaring at Jack all the while. He dusted his hands down his front as if wiping away grime from a journey and stared into Madame Tanet’s eyes.
‘Think on what I said.’
Madame Tanet drew herself up straight and glared at Ronec.
‘I warn you, Jagu, touch me again without my permission and I will tear your member off and feed it to my cats!’
Ronec cast her a look of contempt, which he then turned on Jack and stalked away, leaving the building. Madame Tanet watched until he was gone, then rounded on Jack.
‘There was no need for that,’ she said. She could have been rebuking a child for throwing stones at apples. ‘I would have got rid of him by myself before long.’
‘There is always a need to assist.’ Jack frowned and decided not to mention that he had seen relief flash in her expressive eyes when she had seen he was there. Jack’s presence and intervention had clearly helped restore her poise and he was glad he had intervened. He stepped closer and folded his arms across his chest to indicate he was not intending to touch her.
‘Why reject assistance if it is available?’
‘Because it rarely is,’ Madame Tanet said crisply. ‘It is not wise to grow to rely on other people. I must remember to start wearing my dagger when I am in his company.’
‘That sounds like a way to ensure you are hurt,’ Jack snapped. He furrowed his brow, wondering why he was speaking with such rudeness to his hostess and why the thought of her in peril alarmed him so much.
‘I can defend myself,’ she snapped back. ‘You know nothing of me.’
She clamped her mouth shut, as if regretting her words, and lowered her head. ‘I was rude to rebuff you, though. I apologise. And thank you.’
Jack’s eyes followed in Ronec’s direction. ‘What did he
want?’
‘What all men will try to take, if they see an opportunity.’ Madame Tanet rolled her eyes. ‘He drank too much and forgot himself. He won’t try it again.’
‘Not if he wants to keep his manhood from becoming cat food,’ Jack said, giving her a grin.
‘It would be a meagre meal,’ Madame Tanet sneered. She smiled at Jack. ‘I don’t actually have a cat.’
‘You should. They’re pleasant companions,’ Jack said.
‘Do you like them?’
‘I suppose I must.’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise and gave a delighted laugh. ‘That’s something new I have learned about myself. Thank you, Madame Tanet.’
She held a hand out. ‘Please, call me Blanche as you are my guest. It does not seem right that you have no other name but Jack and I speak to you informally.’
It was the last thing he had expected and he paused. She looked uncertain and began to lower her hand. Not wanting her to think he was rejecting her overture, he reached for it as she drew it away, holding it a little too tightly at first, loosening it as she extended it again. They both went through the awkward play of making noises, non-words that signified apology, forgiveness, acknowledgement that the other meant no offence. Finally, Jack held her slender hand in his and raised it to his lips. Her skin fluttered, he was sure of it, and it caused the fine hairs on the back of his hand to stand to attention. He wanted to turn it over and examine the long, tapered fingers or run his thumb over the lines on her palm and see if the gesture made her shiver with delight.
Blanche. It meant white. A good name for a woman with skin so pale amid the mass of black locks.
‘I’m glad you felt well enough to join us tonight. I trust your room is comfortable?’ she asked.
‘Much better than my previous,’ he said. ‘I was right that the bed would be better.’
He looked away, recalling his idle thoughts of tempting her there and not wanting her to see that he very much desired her.
‘Were you going there when you overheard us?’ she asked.
‘I was going outside to take some air.’ He held out an arm. ‘Would you care to join me, Blanche?’
‘That would be pleasant. Wait here a moment.’
She went upstairs and returned wearing a cloak of deep orange brocade, fastened across her chest with slits at the side for her arms. Jack offered her an arm, but she shook her head and walked on. Maybe after her encounter with Ronec she was wary of being too close to another man. They completed a slow turn of the courtyard, walking slowly and silently side by side.
A dozen ways of opening the conversation rose to Jack’s tongue, but he ignored them, content to enjoy the peace of Blanche’s company. The courtyard was quiet and the sound of waves drifted on the wind. The scent of the tide filled his nostrils and a wild fancy thrust itself into his mind.
‘I want to go to the beach.’
‘Now?’ Blanche wrinkled her brow. ‘It’s late and will be dark.’
‘I know. That’s why. When I was there before, I didn’t recognise anything. Now the circumstances will be the same. I might recall something.’
She looked doubtful.
‘I’m afraid there is no one now who could escort you there. All my servants are busy and Ronec has gone. I won’t ask him to come back and I don’t think he would be the best person to ask to take you in any case.’
‘No one needs to take me,’ Jack said. ‘I can go alone.’
Blanche’s eyes filled with suspicion. ‘I can’t let you do that while your identity and motive are still under question.’
It was a fair point and he did his best to swallow down his frustration.
‘I can’t do nothing and simply hope my memory returns. Will you come with me?’
Her dark eyes flooded with wariness and her jaw tightened. No doubt she thought he might be trying to lure her to an isolated spot for the same purpose Ronec had.
‘Madame, I don’t intend to harm you. I can assure you I want to go there for one purpose alone. You are perfectly safe in my company.’
Her gaze raked over him, giving Jack the impression she was seeing beyond his clothes to his soul. A feeling of familiarity spread over him as he stared back into the black depths. It was torture that he could not remember why he felt so drawn to her.
‘I have no doubt, given your current state of health—however, I appreciate your words. Few men would be so considerate.’ Blanche glanced at the castle, then towards the gate. ‘Very well. I’ll come. I’m curious to see if it works. Wait here a moment, please.’
She walked swiftly back inside and returned a short while later. To the girdle at her hips she had attached a scabbard with a short, wide-bladed knife. Jack grimaced.
‘A weapon? It would be easy enough to take it from you and I could do more harm to you than you could to me.’
‘You sound very certain,’ she said. ‘Are you confident in what you are capable of?’
She met his eyes with a challenge that sent a thrill through him. Was she daring him to try? Jack looked her up and down. Tall but slight. He could have her in his arms and the knife from her belt before she realised.
‘I don’t think I’d need to be that capable.’
‘But you don’t know what I am capable of,’ she said, lifting her chin. Her fingers slid to the knife, stroking the hilt delicately. ‘I’ll keep the knife or we don’t go.’
‘As you wish,’ Jack replied, grudgingly impressed that she would argue so boldly. A woman living alone in charge of a household must live with these sorts of trials daily.
They walked through the small sea gate and down the path. Where it turned steeply Jack paused and looked back towards the castle. The moonlight silhouetted the tower, turning it into a dark outline against the sky.
‘Your home is beautiful,’ he said.
Blanche snorted. It was not ladylike but was all the more appealing for that. ‘No, it isn’t. It’s squat and ugly, but it serves the purpose it was built for.’ She gestured at the rock face that fell away into the sea. ‘It is called Fort Carouel. It was built for defence over sixty years ago and does that admirably.’
‘Is this where you lived with your husband?’ he asked, then winced. He had no idea why he had asked something so intrusive. It was nothing to do with him what Blanche’s husband had done.
She did not seem offended by the question. ‘We never lived here, but we visited. My first husband and I, that is.’
Blanche moved away from his side and walked a little further without speaking. Despite his curiosity, Jack didn’t push her for more details, conscious that he could not answer any questions about himself. Loneliness descended on his shoulders like a cloak of lead. He stayed a few paces behind, walking silently. At the next bend she stopped and pulled her cloak round herself a little closer.
‘The fort passed to Mael’s older brother on the death of their father. He inherited the family castle, too, and was gracious enough to sell the fort to me when I needed somewhere to live.’
‘You bought it outright?’
Her chin came up and her eyes filled with determination.
‘I prefer that than being beholden to a landlord. I shall pass it to Maelle in turn, though doubtless she will gift it to the convent.’
‘Did your second husband leave you no home?’ he asked.
Her face closed down once more. ‘Yann left me nothing. He would have if...’
Her straight, black brows came together, giving her an air of melancholy that looked similar to the one Jack had been feeling. He wondered if her second marriage had been for love or convenience, but it was not his business to ask that question. ‘It was not Yann’s fault. He had no choice.’
‘What happened to him?’ Jack asked.
Blanche’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you remember anything of what is happening in Brittany, Jack?’
/> ‘Little. I understand there is conflict over the succession. Was your husband caught in that?’
Blanche bit her bottom lip, drawing it between her teeth in a manner Jack found more than a little distracting. He almost lost all interest in her husband with the desire to kiss her. Ronec had clearly been trying to do it and Jack knew better than to try the same thing, but it was incredibly tempting.
‘Another time, perhaps,’ she said.
She walked on. Jack followed, intrigued. The path was growing soft underfoot where the stones were turning to sand. It was still quite a strenuous walk and he was growing fatigued. He set his shoulders and strode out, determined not to reveal his weariness to Blanche.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
He looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to be so perceptive.
‘I’m just thinking that the last time I came here I was threatened with shackles. It’s good to have some freedom.’
She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hip. ‘You are not a prisoner. How many times must I tell you that for you to believe me? You are free to go whenever you choose. If you wanted to, you could walk away now and no one would try to bring you back or stop you.’
No one, Jack thought darkly. The loneliness was overwhelming, coming closer to unmanning him than any physical injury had done. Knowing that he had no attachments here crushed him. Not knowing whether he had any elsewhere was worse. At least a jailor might care about his whereabouts.
‘What should I do if I left? Wander France in the hope of seeing a familiar face? I may have a life, but I don’t know where it is.’ He clenched his fists and groaned in exasperation. ‘I don’t even know if I can trust myself. That putain Bleiz Mor told me what was in the barrels. Weapons hidden in wine. Am I a pirate like him, or a smuggler? How do I even know which side I would choose in this matter of the succession?’
Uncovering the Merchant's Secret Page 9
