“Oh, my dear,” she whispered. “I am so glad to see you.”
He smiled. His smile was sweet and lopsided and he bent to kiss her hand. “I am so pleased to see you too, my dearest.”
The touch of his lips on her knuckles was strange and exciting. The way he stroked her hair was at once gentling and roused those strange, sweet sensations to flow more.
She leaned forward a little and he leaned forward.
His lips parted and they caressed hers, his body pressing against her, pushing her down on the bed. She sighed and felt his touch slowly exploring her. His hand strayed from her neck down to her waist and she gasped and tensed as his tongue probed her mouth and his fingers tightened on her waist, kneading the flesh.
He went stiff too and withdrew his hand sharply.
“My lady! I'm...forgive me,” he said. His face was red, breath panting in his throat as if he had run far. Claudine shook her head.
“Nothing to forgive,” she whispered.
Her body felt strangely bereft without his touch, a feeling which surprised her. She would have expected that such an intimate touch would be repugnant to her, but it wasn't – it was wonderful. She could feel sweet warmth tingling inside her and she wanted more.
Francis chuckled. “I am sorry, my dear. I allowed my fancies to run away with me. I'm just so happy.” His face lit up. He was sitting opposite her, on the carved wooden chair beside her bed where Bernadette sometimes sat to talk to her.
She chuckled ruefully. “I too,” she whispered. She reached out to take his hand and he drew in a breath as her cool fingers closed around his own. He looked down at her with so much tenderness that Claudine felt her heart melt. His hand closed over hers.
“Claudine,” he whispered. “I...we have to do something. There is aught...disturbing...about this malady of yours. I intend to get to the bottom of this. However, I feel as if you are in danger here. Is there anything I can do?”
Claudine felt her own eyes widen with surprise. In danger? What did he mean?
“I'm...Francis, why? What do you think is happening?”
He bit his lip, face dark. “I don't know, my dear. But I think that something is. I will try and see you every day.”
Claudine felt her heart soar, and then suddenly went cold. “No, Francis,” she whispered. “You cannot possibly do that. It's dangerous. If we were caught...you and I would be in disgrace. Cast out of society. We'd die on the street.”
Francis smiled wistfully. “I know. Yes, we would be outcast from society. We wouldn't die, though. I'd protect you.”
Claudine felt her heart soften. “Thank you, my dear.” She squeezed his hand. All the same, she felt a twinge of apprehension.
He smiled. “I thank Bernadette for helping us. Without her, I'd never be allowed in. But as it is, Father Alexandre may be allowed to treat you. I know a little of herb-lore, thanks to the monks. I think I could almost maintain this disguise, even under scrutiny.”
Claudine giggled. Somehow, the idea of the well-built nobleman being her physician was deliciously piquant. However, dangerous, too. Her belly tingled with excitement.
Her head was feeling better, too. Her heart thumped as fast, but the way it felt was different – healthier somehow.
“Francis,” she whispered. “I...”
“My lord!” Bernadette said suddenly. “I think...you'd best stand. Someone's coming.”
Francis shot upright with a speed that made Claudine wince. She saw him straighten the skirts of his robe – yes, Francis was wearing the robe of a Franciscan monk – and face the door. It opened to reveal the steward.
“Father Alexandre?”
“Y...yes?” Francis asked. He cleared his throat and his next reply was emboldened. “What, my son?”
Claudine had to bite her cheeks to stop the grin spreading across her face. The idea of Francis as a monk was so funny that even in this real danger she had to see the amusing side.
“I have had quarters prepared for you in the attic. If you will accompany me upstairs? They are humble but you'll find them most adequate. A light supper has been prepared downstairs.”
“I will partake of it after observing the prayer at Vespers.”
Claudine wanted to giggle again, hearing the words from Francis. He was playing the role of a monk to perfection. She looked past the door to the steward. He looked a little uncomfortable.
“Of course, Father.”
“Bless you, my son.”
Claudine looked up at him and his eye caught hers. He lowered his eyelids, and she could see his cheek jump as if he wanted to laugh and was suppressing the inclination. Her heart jumped with happiness.
When the steward had gone, they shared a grin.
“Francis! Oh, you...”
“I really am bad,” he began, interrupting her.
They looked at each other smilingly. He cleared his throat to start again. Their conversation was interrupted by Bernadette.
“My lord, my lady...please. We need to be careful. Will you leave, now?”
Francis nodded. “Yes, Bernadette. And thank you.”
Claudine focused on Bernadette's face. She was drawn and worried. She felt her heart fill with thankfulness.
“Not at all. If you can manage not to get us all thrown into the street, I'd be grateful,” Bernadette said with some asperity. Francis nodded.
“I'll do my best, Miss.”
“Good. Now go. And both of you. Remember. This is Father Alexandre. The new physician.”
“Yes,” Claudine nodded.
“You might do well to pretend to dislike him,” Bernadette added. “If you seem to enthusiastic, perhaps your uncle will investigate him more closely. We don't want that.”
“Yes, Bernadette,” Claudine nodded. Her eyes went to Francis, who smiled.
“And I?” he asked Bernadette.
“It's best if you keep your hood on, your eyes downcast and don't talk much,” Bernadette said briskly. “I don't know how easy it would be for him to recognize you. Now go. Please, my lord? Someone is coming.”
Francis nodded. “Bless you,” he said to Bernadette. “Most sincerely I mean it.”
He turned and hurried out.
Claudine looked at Bernadette. Her brown eyes were troubled but she smiled at her.
Claudine smiled back. She could barely believe how wonderful she felt, knowing Francis was here! Her life had never felt quite so happy before. Bernadette lowered herself wearily to the seat by her bed.
“My lady, I don't like this,” she said. “I mean...I am so glad to see you looking well. However, I have this feeling inside me that this will end badly. He shouldn't risk this.”
Claudine bit her lip. “I know, Bernadette. But yet, I am so happy.” She squeezed her friend's hand impulsively. “Thank you so, so much.”
Bernadette smiled at her fondly. “I know, my dear,” she said. “I am happy too. And somehow we will make sure all ends well.”
Claudine nodded, closing her eyes. “I pray so,” she said sincerely.
Bernadette's smile was as bright as the flames in the fireplace. “I am so happy to hear it, my lady. Truly I am.”
They chatted a while. They discussed simple everyday matters – the way Lady Mirella was curling her hair, the new fashion of sleeves, and the progress of the altar tapestry. When Bernadette had gone, Claudine closed her eyes, a big smile moving her lips. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Francis was here in the manor. He was here where she could see him every day.
She found herself recalling each sensation of the touch of his hand, the way his mouth caressed hers, the sweet feeling of his grip on her waist. I wonder if I will ever be well enough to...do those things?
She knew what she was thinking of – the little bit she understood of what it meant to lie with a man. It was something she had never imagined would be accessible to her. Now she hoped it would be. She sat up, feeling revived. Her head had cleared miraculously, and she felt well enough to stand and m
ove the chair to the terrace, watching the sunset spread long golden rays across the land. She felt better than she had for months. It was only when she came inside she recalled she had not even taken her daily medicine. She giggled. Is Francis so much better medicine for me than the daily draft?
It seemed so. If he stayed, she might get well after all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THREAT AND HAPPINESS
THREAT AND HAPPINESS
The morning sunshine washed through the window onto Francis' eyelids. Memory of where he was rushed back to him. He was upstairs in the attic at Evreux. With that, he abruptly remembered the rest of the situation. Claudine was here. He was, to all intents and purpose, her physician, and a monk. He should maintain that disguise.
“Right. I'll head to the kitchen and then to her chambers.”
After breakfast, Francis felt his heart thud with excitement. He climbed the stairs in the elaborate, though small, manor and headed to her bedchamber. There, he knocked at the door. Bernadette answered.
“Father Alexandre!” she said. Her eyes widened and then her worried frown descended. “Come in. The...patient...is awake and ready to see you.”
Francis felt his belly clench with sweet excitement. He walked in briskly, a big smile on his face. He found Claudine sitting at her dressing table, a long white dress on, her hair curled. She looked indescribably lovely and his loins ached as his eyes lingered at her full bust. Then he looked into her eyes and his heart warmed.
“My lady,” he said, bowing. “If I may say so, you look remarkably well this morning.”
She smiled, a faint flush coloring her cheek. “Thank you, my lord. Uh, Father. I feel much better.”
He grinned. “I'm pleased to hear it,” he turned to Bernadette and whispered quietly to her. “Is it safe?”
Bernadette nodded. “His lordship is out. You can speak freely. I'll keep watch at the window. He might not be gone long.”
“Thank you.”
Francis lowered himself to sitting in the chair by the bed. He reached out to take Claudine's hand. She gripped his fingers tightly.
“Francis,” she said. Her face was warm with happiness. “I'm so pleased to see you. I trust you slept well?”
He smiled. “I did. And really, you do look well today.”
She colored. “I feel better. Thank you.”
Francis bent and raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the cool, fragrant knuckles. Her hand, and her whole person, smelled of rosemary and sweetness. His body tensed with longing for her.
“Claudine,” he whispered. “I...would you run away with me?”
Claudine's sweet pink mouth fell open, surprised. “Francis! I...no.”
Francis blinked. “No?” the answer surprised him. He felt quite hurt, if he was honest. Of all the things he'd expected, outright denial was not one of them. “Why?”
She closed her eyes. She looked pained. “Francis, please. We must be sensible. You know I'm ill. I must ask if you've thought about this even for just a moment or two?”
Francis coughed. He felt quite upset by that. “Claudine! Why do you say that? What's wrong?”
Claudine looked sad. She gently moved her hand out of his grasp. Looked up at him with those big eyes damp with sorrow.
“Francis, I'm not well. You know that. I am much improved but, be that as it may. I am weak. I may never bear a child. You are the heir to Annecy. Your family would not wish you to choose...such a woman as a wife. I am no use to you.”
Francis stared at her. “Claudine,” he breathed. Why did it feel like his heart was being crushed inside a fist? “Claudine, no! Why even think such a thing?”
“Because...” she breathed out a big sigh. “Because it's true. You don't want a wife like me, do you?”
Francis felt aghast. The feeling intensified when she started to cry, big tears tracing her soft pale cheeks.
“Claudine,” he murmured. “No. My poor dear. How can you think such a thing?”
Claudine took a long shaky breath in. “Well...it is true. My uncle...he always said that I would be a useless wife.”
Francis stared at her. “That makes me angry, Claudine – but not with you. How can you even think it, though? That man is wicked!”
Claudine shook her head insistently. “No. No, he isn't. He's a kind, supportive man. He saved me when my own father turned his back on me. How can you speak about him that way? I admit what he says hurts me sometimes, but he says it for my good.”
Francis snorted. “No, Claudine,” he said softly. “Of that I am quite certain. Whatever you believe, do not believe that.”
Claudine looked at him stonily. “I don't know what you're saying, Francis.”
Francis closed his eyes. “Claudine, can't you see?” he asked gently. “Your uncle discourages you from everything. Is it just possible he wants you to be ill? Wants you to need him? Have you thought of that?”
Claudine stared at him. “Francis, why?”
“I don't know.” The instant he'd said it, Francis felt slightly stupid. Why would Claudine's uncle wish her ill? Of course he wouldn't.
He and Claudine looked at each other. He sighed.
“Claudine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult your uncle. I know I spoke hastily. I trust you can forgive me for that. None of that matters to me. All that matters is that I love you.”
The instant the words left his mouth, Francis blinked, surprised. He hadn't really thought about it before. He knew he felt delicious warmth melting his heart at the merest thought of Claudine. Knew that seeing her smile made him happy. That just one look into her eyes made his heart race. He did love her.
She stared at him. Then, abruptly, started to cry. She leaned forward, their arms wrapped round each other, and they embraced. He drew her tightly to him, wanting to feel her against him as if he would draw her frail body into his own, unify his strength with hers. He stroked her hair.
“Oh, Claudine,” he murmured. “I love you. My sweetling. I do.”
She laughed and looked up into his face. “I love you, too, Francis. With every beat of my heart. Always.”
Francis smiled and felt his own throat close with tears. He looked into her pale blue eyes and leaned forward. Gently, they kissed. He tasted the flavor of her tears.
They were sitting with their hands clasped, grinning at each other a little foolishly when Bernadette appeared.
“Come on, you two,” she whispered. “He's back. Quickly. Francis, best if you leave.”
Francis nodded. He stood and headed out toward the door.
“I'll see you soon, my sweetling.”
Claudine's smile lit his heart. “I'll see you soon too, my Francis.”
He smiled, bowed, and headed through the door. He almost collided with the physician in the hallway – a grave, haughty French monk.
“Greetings, Brother,” he said. The monk's brow shot up.
“Greetings,” he said. “May I ask what you are doing here?”
“I'm treating the Lady Claudine,” he said quickly.
“Ah. Well, that is my office.”
“Oh.” Francis felt nervous. “Well, I was asked to apply my skills to the case, since I happened to be passing through the town. My reputation preceded me, prompting her maidservant to invite me along.”
“Ah.” The monk looked, if anything, quite disgruntled. He sniffed. “Well, I trust you will not interfere with my prescription.”
“I...only if it proves necessary,” Francis found himself replying before he'd really thought it through.
The monk's brow shot up. He looked angry.
“Well, then. Be assured the count will know of this.”
“By all means,” Francis said gallantly. “I suspect the count himself will not object to my involvement in the case.”
The man gave him a stone cold stare. “We shall see about that,” he said thinly.
Francis bit his cheek to try not to reveal his smile. The man was jealous!
“We shall inde
ed,” he said quietly.
Before the physician could make any further comment he turned and walked briskly away. The encounter in itself was quite amusing, he thought as he hurried to his chamber in the attic. But in reality he should take note of it. If Claudine's uncle heard of the new physician, he would be bound to investigate him. It was only a matter of time before he would have to leave this place. Or risk discovery. All the same, the talk with Claudine that morning was worth every risk he took to be here beside her.
She was beautiful. He was in love. Now she knew that as well.
Francis retired to his chambers.
He found himself feeling restless the instant he closed the door on the small monastic room at the top of the house. He needed to go outside, or somewhere else. The thought of Claudine's uncle coming to interview him chafed badly on his nerves. What was he going to say to him?
He headed into the relative peace and quiet of the garden.
Outside, the sun had come out from between the clouds and the garden was gloriously warm. Francis sank down gratefully on a bench in the herb garden, sweat trickling down his face. He was hot in the worsted habit and he wiped his brow, wishing he could take it off.
Imagine the scandal if I did! He chuckled. With imaginings of the discovery of “Brother Alexandre” in the gardens in a plain tunic and trews, practicing his sword-craft or riding, he felt his eyelids drooping. When he woke, he could hear two people talking. Their voices drifted over to him and he found himself listening with vague interest to their words.
“...and if we have enough time, we should ensure that we don't go too fast with this,” the first voice said. A male voice, Francis didn't recognize it. He found his attention wandering. The second voice brought his attention back again with horrified clarity.
“I don't know if we have time. How long before that wretched fellow comes snooping here?”
That was Claudine's uncle! He almost sat up, but stayed where he was, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself. The next words chilled him to the bone.
Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 16
