Dreams of Lilacs

by Lynn Kurland

  Gervase would have thanked the man for the suggestions, but he didn’t have the chance before Etienne’s granddaughter was standing in front of him, looking slightly annoyed. He looked at her in surprise.

  “What?”

  “You promised me time in the lists.” She gestured behind him. “I think they’re right there.”

  “Ah—”

  “Even the sisters here have swords,” Isabelle said. She gestured to the nun she didn’t know was her grandfather. “See? She has a sword.”

  “But perhaps not the skill to use it,” Miles offered.

  Etienne delivered a brisk slap to the back of his grandson’s head. “Of course I know how to use it,” he said delicately. “One does what one must to keep the abbess safe.”

  Gervase could only imagine. He sighed over the pointed look Isabelle sent his way, then reached for her hand.

  “Knife work,” he conceded. “Perhaps.”

  “For a few minutes, my child,” Etienne said in a remarkably high voice. “I believe there is a sister here who might do a goodly work on his leg if you can leave something of him for her to see to.”

  The look on Isabelle’s face almost brought tears to Gervase’s eyes, hard-hearted lout that he was.

  “In truth?” she asked. “I’ve tried herbs, but there is only so much they can do.”

  “I’m sure you’ve aided him greatly,” Etienne said. “By the time Sister Jeanne is finished with him, he’ll be back to his former self. I understand he has a few challenges in the lists to look forward to, so we’d best put him back together as quickly as possible. Wouldn’t want him failing now, would we?”

  Isabelle blushed. Gervase suppressed the urge to sit down and wait until events rearranged themselves in a fashion he could be comfortable with. He was courting—and he used that term very advisedly—a woman who blushed at the thought of any of it, he was listening to that woman’s grandfather begin to offer her all manner of advice on the proper way for a woman to wield her blade, and he was quite certain that what lay in store for him in the chambers of the woman with hands reputedly akin to a blacksmith’s wasn’t going to be at all pleasant.

  If that weren’t enough, the path to Isabelle de Piaget’s hand was strewn with things he wasn’t particularly comfortable with. Someone was vexing her, someone wanted to slay him, and her father was going to be absolutely livid when he discovered the extent of Isabelle’s activities over the past pair of fortnights.

  He only wished that was all he had to look forward to.

  Unfortunately, he had the feeling there were many, far less pleasant things awaiting him.

  Chapter 21

  Isabelle walked toward the kitchens, trailed by a collection of guardsmen. She supposed she didn’t need to see to any preparations, but she had needed some air. She also wasn’t unhappy for the chance to have a look around, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she thought she would see. She was, however, fairly sure of what she didn’t want to see.

  She wasn’t one to purposely seek out corners to hide in, but she had to admit that she was tempted to try it for a change. The only reason for hiding she’d had in the past had been to avoid whatever fools had come to Artane, hunting for a bride. Her situation was quite a bit more perilous at the moment.

  Worse still was not having any idea where to look. In the single day she’d been at Caours, she had started at shadows, looked askance at every soul she’d encountered, and even gone so far as to very briefly speculate on whether or not her brother might have had nefarious plans. The ridiculousness of that thought was, she had to admit, the only thing that had calmed her. No matter what she might have done to him over the years, she had no doubt that Miles loved her.

  But there was obviously someone out there who didn’t.

  Isabelle shivered, then paused at the door to the kitchens. There was another door on the opposite side of the large chamber, true, but she didn’t see anyone with evil intent lurking there. The kitchen staff seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, she had a knife and had taken extensive notes on how to use it. Actually taking blade in hand and trying to spar with Gervase earlier in the afternoon had been something of a disaster, but could she be blamed if she had found the sight of his appallingly handsome face to be more of a distraction than she’d been able to overcome? She would have to make a more serious study of the art with someone she wasn’t quite so fond of. Miles, perhaps, if he could be prevailed upon to venture into the lists with her.

  She turned to her guardsmen and smiled. “I think I’m safe enough for the moment.”

  Sir Denis made her a sharp bow. “We’ll wait without, Lady Isabelle, well within earshot.”

  She imagined they would. She nodded her thanks, then turned and walked into the chamber. She introduced herself to the cook, then simply kept herself out of the way. She would have, at one point, extended her compliments regarding the delicious smell of the stew on the fire, but it was easier to simply lean back against the wall and feel safe. Or it could have been that speech was suddenly beyond her. That happened, she supposed when one caught a glimpse of a man who she suspected had left more than one lass rather speechless.

  Gervase had walked past the other door—on the path that lay there, apparently—then returned and leaned back into the kitchen. Isabelle couldn’t imagine he had paused because he’d seen her, but there was no denying that he was looking at her at present.

  He smiled.

  She would have backed up, but the wall was already firmly behind her. That was handy enough, she supposed, simply because leaning against a substantial amount of sturdy stone seemed like a reasonable thing to do in order to regain her composure.

  That one there, the man now leaning his shoulder against one side of the opposite doorway, watching her, was dangerous. She had noted to herself several times in recent memory that he was too handsome by half and fully too charming for the safe consumption of any female. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe the rumors of his seduction of most of the eligible maidens in France, but she could certainly see how they might have been true.

  She realized at a certain point that he was simply watching her gape at him. She shut her mouth, considered, then pursed her lips at him, just so he would know that she was not going to endure being mocked by an extremely handsome man who was obviously well aware of his considerable charms.

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  She settled herself more comfortably against the wall behind her and with great ceremony folded her arms over her chest.

  He smiled. She had to close her eyes in self-defense, but that ended her very fine view, so she decided that perhaps it was just best to keep an eye on him to see what he would do next.

  Actually, she supposed there was no point in not being honest with herself. She wasn’t watching him because she wanted to know what he would do next, she was watching him because he was beautiful. Beautiful and determined and possessing a smile that left her rather weak in the knees.

  And he knew her name.

  He pushed away from the wall and walked to the center of the kitchen. He stopped, then clasped his hands behind his back.

  “I can wait,” he said with a shrug. “All night, if necessary.”

  “As can I.”

  He looked as if he were fighting a smile. “I’ll take you out in the lists first thing tomorrow.”

  “To do what?”

  He did laugh then. “Not to look at flowers, surely.”

  “Specifics, Gervase.”

  “Well,” he said, his breath catching a bit, “if you’re going to use my name, I suppose I’ll have to meet you over steel. Does that suit?”

  She pushed away from the wall and walked over to him. She stopped a handsbreadth away and looked up at him. “Check,” she said.

  “Checkmate,” he said pointedly. He smiled. “I got you across the kitchen, didn’t I?”

  “Halfway, which is not all the way, and you promised me time in the lists for that halfway, whi
ch means I win.”

  He put his arms around her. “You are a feisty thing.”

  “’Tis a recent discovery, but I think I like me this way.” She smiled at him. “How went your time with my grandmother’s healer?”

  He winced. “All I can say is I now know how wheat feels on its journey from grain to flour. Worse still, she wants to see me again tomorrow.”

  “She can hardly be blamed for that,” Isabelle said. “You are a rather handsome man.”

  “She’s old enough to be my mother.”

  “That doesn’t mean her eyes don’t function as they should.”

  He smiled at her. “Why, my lady Isabelle, I believe that was a compliment.”

  “I have an obsession with truth,” she said primly.

  “And I think I have an obsession with you.”

  She thought she just might share that, as it happened. “Are you suggesting that you aren’t always this willing to go halfway across kitchens to be friendly with your former scullery maids?”

  He smoothed her hair back from her face. “What I’m saying is that I would have come all the way across the kitchens tonight to fetch you if you’d asked it.”

  She smiled. “Would you?”

  “Actually, I think if I hadn’t been convinced your sire would have killed me outside his front gates for daring to show my face there, I would have made the journey to Artane, and then presented myself to your sire with a very pointed request to see the lady Isabelle. Not her sister, not any of her sisters-in-law, but the youngest daughter.”

  She felt her smile fade. “You wouldn’t have,” she said. “Not in truth.”

  He sighed. “Isabelle, the truth is, I was deep in the morass that was my own life, unhappily pulled from a life spent living simply to flatter my own ego in order to take over my father’s place. But rest assured that I definitely knew who you were and had spent many unhappy moments in envious contemplation of the man who would eventually be fortunate enough to win your hand. I simply never considered that I might contend for that place myself.”

  She shook her head. “I can scarce believe that.”

  “I’ll work on convincing you later,” he said seriously. “And as for my father’s very useful title, I believe I’ll keep it gladly. I don’t think your sire would allow me within a hundred paces of you otherwise.”

  She smiled. “I believe, Your Grace, that you’re slightly closer than a hundred paces at the moment.”

  “So I am,” he said. He looked at her, then took her face very gently in his hands. “But still too far away—”

  “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Isabelle wasn’t sure who moved first or more quickly but she found herself standing a good five paces away from Gervase who looked easily as guilty as she felt. She turned to the source of that bellow only to see her eldest brother standing just inside the door, an expression of thunderous disapproval on his face.

  Well, he was wearing a bit of a smirk as well, but it was Robin after all.

  Robin pointed at her. “You,” he said distinctly. “Come over here.”

  Isabelle would have suggested that he go to Hell—indeed the words were on the tip of her tongue—but before she could stop spluttering long enough to spew them out, Gervase had reached over and pulled her behind him.

  “Do not,” he said crisply, “speak to my lady that way.”

  Isabelle peeked over Gervase’s shoulder to see if that had left any sort of impression on her brother. Robin’s smirk had only grown more pronounced.

  “And who, boy,” he boomed, “are you?”

  “Don’t be an ass,” Gervase said shortly. “You know exactly who I am.”

  Robin pursed his lips. “Unfortunately I do, which hardly leaves me any more at ease. Release my sister, you rogue.”

  Isabelle supposed there was no reason not to offer her own opinion. “We know each other.”

  “I’m unhappily a witness to that fact.”

  “Miles said Gervase could kiss my hand,” she said.

  Robin folded his arms over his chest. “I believe our little Gervase was intending to kiss quite a bit more than just your hand.”

  She leaned to the side and glared at her brother. “Then give him permission to do so.”

  “He’ll have to earn it.”

  Isabelle patted Gervase on the back. “Well, go to, my lad.”

  Gervase turned and looked at her in surprise. “You’re sending me off unprotected to face that ruthless bastard?”

  “You don’t want to be coddled.”

  He studied her for a moment or two in silence, then took her face in his hands and smiled. “I believe, my lady Isabelle, that I just might be inordinately fond of you.”

  Isabelle thought she just might feel the same way. And she realized at about the same time that he was going to kiss her—

  “Oh, there’ll be none of that,” Robin said. “Release her, vile thing, and let’s trot out to the lists and see if you’re worthy of kissing anything but her boots.”

  Gervase looked over his shoulder. “’Tis dark outside. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “We’ll bring torches.”

  Gervase sighed, took her face again in his hands, then very deliberately kissed her on first one cheek, then the other. He smoothed the hair back from her face. “I’ll return.”

  “I’ll come along and watch.”

  “It might be too much for your delicate humors.”

  “I’ve seen my brother humiliated before,” she said airily. “It won’t trouble me overmuch.”

  “Me?” Robin spluttered.

  Isabelle watched as Gervase winked at her, then took off his cloak and put it around her. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her over to collect her brother.

  “Let’s go discuss past humiliations of yours, shall we?”

  Robin swore. “I don’t remember any humiliations.”

  “Langres,” Gervase said distinctly. “Laon as well, I think. My memory begins to fail at that point. Didn’t we meet at Guérande?”

  “You bastard,” Robin growled.

  “You’re one to talk, aren’t you? Let’s go.”

  “I will when you release my sister.”

  Isabelle ignored the pointed look her brother gave her as she slipped her hand into Gervase’s, ignored with more vigor the strangled noises of horror he was indulging in, and wondered how it was Anne of Artane endured him.

  “Where is your sainted wife?” Isabelle asked, suppressing the urge to insult her brother whilst she had the breath for it.

  “I left her and the children with Mother and Father and the fiercest of my guardsmen,” Robin said, “and rode ahead to see if I could be of some use. To Grandmère, if to no one else. I would suggest you make a measured retreat to her solar and join her before her fire, but perhaps you don’t want to miss the humiliation I have in store for your would-be lover there.” He shook his head. “I can scarce believe I just heard myself say that. Are you old enough to have a would-be anything?”

  She shot her brother a warning look, which he received with a bland look before he turned to Gervase.

  “Heard a rumor about your little troubles,” Robin said as they walked away from the kitchens and along the cloister. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming.”

  “My hall was full of smoke, as it happens, so I didn’t see much of anything.”

  “I heard about that as well. At least you were left your visage, which I suppose my sister thinks she’ll be appreciating as the future unwinds itself. Perhaps you might want to keep a few more guardsmen about yourself from now on.”

  “Thank you for that,” Gervase said dryly.

  Robin smiled wickedly. “I do what I can for the lesser men who seem to find themselves drawn into my sphere of influence.”

  “Lesser?” Gervase returned Robin’s smile. “You are still smarting from that thrashing I gave you in—where was it again?”

  Isabelle listened to them discuss just wher
e that impossible event had never taken place as they made their way to the place of new torture, then finally found herself standing with her brother, waiting for Gervase to listen to a report from his garrison captain. Isabelle found herself hugged until she had to pound Robin on the back to let her go. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her seriously.

  “We worried.”

  She sighed. “I had to come, Robby.”

  “Aye, so Miles told me not an hour ago. And just so you know, he told me everything.” He started to speak, then finally shook his head. “Could you not have trusted me with the tidings, Iz? I could have taken this burden on for you.”

  “You have three children, Robin,” she said seriously.

  “And you are my youngest sister,” he said, “which leaves me with the obligation to protect you as I would them.” He pulled her back into his arms and hugged her again so tightly she squeaked. “Daft wench. What were you thinking? First you trot off to see to a possible murderer on your own, then you fall in love with Gervase de Seger, of all people.”

  “Do you dislike him so, then?”

  Robin grunted, then stepped aside and slung his arm around her shoulders. “Speaking as a swordsman? I have grudging respect for his skill. As the brother of the woman he obviously loves? Can’t stand him. I foresee many hours spent putting him in his place so he doesn’t dare kiss your dung-encrusted boots.” He smiled pleasantly. “Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

  Isabelle supposed it was best not to answer that. She leaned against her brother as she watched Gervase speak to Sir Aubert.

  “Is he in danger, do you think?” she asked quietly.

  Robin sighed. “I find myself singularly unable to make light of it, so I’ll simply say aye. He’s fortunate to be alive. Of course, I might manage to remedy that tonight, but I’m a hopeful sort of lad.”

  “Robin,” she said with a sigh.

  Robin laughed a little. “You know I’m preparing him for what he’ll face with Father.”

  She looked up at him. “Was he formidable?” she asked. “Before?”

  “Rather, which made him all the more loathsome. Just my sort of lad, of course. And just so we’re clear, the vanquishing was spread about equally. I’m simply choosing not to remind him of his prior failures during this delicate spot in the negotiations between the two of you.”