I look wearied.
Bernadette grimly studied her reflection. Her skin was white, the rings of bruising clear around her own eyes. There was something waxen and not quite well about her appearance and she felt her mind tugging to recall something.
This was what Claudine looked like sometimes, she remembered.
Claudine had been poisoned by her uncle, she knew. Therefore, whatever this was, it was likely the same thing.
“Milady?” Amelia said, disrupting her deductive thinking.
“Mm?”
“The blue or the berry red?”
“The red, please,” Bernadette confirmed. She liked the dark red gown, knowing it brought out her best features. She shook her head at herself as Amelia bent to retrieve the kirtle that matched the gown. She was surprised and more than a little amused by her own desire for Fraser.
When she was dressed, she headed slowly out into the hallway. She felt worse when she tried to walk, and found herself clinging to the wall as she headed to the solar for breakfast.
I recognize all of this.
There was no doubt in her mind. This was Claudine's uncle's work.
She found herself looking forward to discussing it with Fraser. She knew that he thought the same way that she did, and he would agree with her.
“Milady!”
She smiled as Fraser stood up hastily from where he sat at the table. Breakfast had been laid out early – her servants were accustomed to her own early rising – though as yet Fraser was the only one of her guests to be awake.
“Fraser,” she said, fighting the growing grin that spread across her face. “It's...pleasant to see you.”
He smiled. “You too, milady.” Suddenly his face clouded with concern. “How fare you?”
She shrugged. “Indisposed, milord,” she answered. She sat down opposite him. He made a curious frown.
“Indisposed? You're not too ill...” he began.
She cut him off, laughing. “I'm not unwell, Fraser. Just drained. And weary. And my head hurts. All things I know.”
“You know?” He frowned, reaching across the table to take a roll from the platters in the center of the table.
“I know from Claudine,” she explained. “I recall them from when she was ailing too.”
“You mean?” His face had darkened and he looked like he was about to lose his temper.
“I mean her uncle,” she nodded. “We suspected...”
He interrupted her. “By the saints! How can he do such things?”
She shook her head sadly. “He's an unprincipled person. He wants power. Doesn't care if someone has to die to get it.”
He was red with rage. Then he frowned. “But Bernadette? He gains nothing from your death. He can't have Evreux.”
“No,” she said in a soft voice. “He cannot. But he will take vengeance.”
“On you?”
“For my part in exposing him. Francis and Claudine have each other – they are safe. At least I pray they are,” she added, shivering. “Besides, Annecy is well-guarded. It's a much larger estate. Here...” She shrugged. “Just me.”
She saw Fraser's face darken and then she saw a faint smile touch his mouth.
“What?” she asked playfully, though she knew what he was thinking. He was thinking she would not dwell here alone forever.
“Nothing, milady,” he said, equally lighthearted. “I would just say that I hope that changes. And sometime soon.”
She looked down at the table, her cheeks flaming red. “I too,” she said in a strangled whisper.
He frowned. “Sorry, milady? You said aught?”
She shook her head, highly reluctant to repeat it. “No,” she said softly. “Not really.
He smiled.
They ate breakfast together in silence. The sound of running feet made them look up. She saw him tense and felt a sudden wild elation. He was so protective! It made her smile.
“It's not a threat,” she said.
“Auntie!”
Nicolene, two-and-a-half and come recently to the joys of running, vaulted in, running to her. Bernadette felt her heart melting slowly as the little arms enfolded her knees.
“Nicolene,” she said gently. She bent down and lifted the little girl onto her lap, where she regarded the table solemnly.
“Ooh,” she pronounced.
Bernadette giggled. She looked at Fraser, who looked enchanted.
“You look well thus.”
Bernadette blushed red. She looked around wildly and saw Claudine in the doorway. She smiled at her friend, whose face transformed into a happy smile.
“There you are, sweetling!” She ran to Nicolene and lifted her from Bernadette's knee, swinging her lightly into the air.
Bernadette, watching, felt her heart stab painfully at the memory of Claudine's illness. As a result of the slow poisoning by Claudine's uncle, she had spent years barely able to walk, much less run or lift anything – and having children had been a dream beyond her. Now, all that had changed.
She felt herself stiffen with conviction. It was time something changed. Something had to be done about that man.
“Come! Let's see what Auntie Bernadette has laid out for us. Oh! Is that blackcurrant compote? Your favorite...”
As Claudine fed the child and chattered happily with her, Bernadette and Fraser nodded slowly. “My lord?” Bernadette asked.
“Mm?”
“We should make our plans.”
Later, when her guests had eaten, Bernadette and Fraser moved out to the hallway together. They walked in the bright sunshine, heading to the colonnade.
“My lady?” Fraser asked. He leaned against the wall and she joined him. She looked up into his eyes. His were strained with tension, but already she could see the distant look – he was riding to Corron already, seeking revenge.
“Yes?” she asked, feeling a strange flutter in her belly. She would not risk him! There was no vengeance worth losing him. She knew that now. She knew with such fierceness of conviction that she loved him.
“I wish I needn't ask, but...might you lend me men-at-arms?”
She blinked. “Of course, Fraser.” They both smiled when she used his name. “How many would you need?”
He paused. “Two.”
“Only two!” she exclaimed, feeling worried for him. “Take more, Fraser. Take four.”
He smiled sorrowfully, shaking his head. “I need no more. I would not leave you understaffed. What if the intruders return? No. You keep three here. I'll take two with me.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” he smiled.
Bernadette pulled a face. “Don't get used to hearing that,” she added roughly.
He laughed. “My dear, I would hate to be used to that. I would miss our sparring too much.” He smiled at her. “It means the world to me.”
Bernadette felt slow warmth suffuse her. He meant that...he meant they would be seeing more of one another. That, as she thought, they had a future together. A lifetime of banter, arguments and their own special interaction that was part jest, part deadly-serious. She felt her heart thump with wonder.
“My lord,” she said, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in front of her, “I will take that in the best spirit, now...”
“It was meant in the best spirit,” he said. He turned to face her. “I love you.”
Her throat worked. “I love you, too.”
She stared into his eyes. He leaned forward and she followed suit. Their arms enfolded each other. They kissed.
Later, they put their plan into action. Fraser would take Henri and Julian, and she would keep the rest with her. They would ride to Corron the next morning.
“We'll go by the long route,” Fraser said, thinking quickly. “We don't want him to see which direction we're approaching from.”
“I agree,” Bernadette nodded. “Though I will miss you.”
His eyes widened, clearly surprised by what she said. He smiled at her, the sweet, tender smile full of
love that made her melt. “My lady,” he said softly. “I will not be without you, for you will never leave my thoughts.”
Bernadette felt her eyes damp. She blinked, and cleared aside the lump that had suddenly and inexplicably risen to block her throat. “You funny man,” she croaked. “I'll think of you.”
He smiled. “I am pleased to hear it.”
She smiled. “Now, off you go,” she said, feeling tears start to fall earnestly and not wanting to let them fall in front of him. “Shoo. You have planning to do.”
He smiled at her and took her hand. “I'll be back before you miss me.”
He bent down and kissed her again, and she felt herself melting in his arms. She buried her face in the sweet warmth of his chest and let her tears fall. When she stood back, there was a wet patch on the brown cloth of the tunic. She looked up into his eyes.
“You can't keep that promise – for I miss you already.”
He kissed her and she returned his kiss, and it felt as if the world stopped in that moment – as if the larks flying past and the men-at-arms drilling and the horse in the yard all froze. There was only the two of them and the warmth of him and the sweet feeling he made her feel.
Then, all too soon, he was walking away.
“Be safe, my lady,” he called over his shoulder. “I will see you soon.”
“Thank you, milord,” she said hoarsely.
She watched him walk down the hallway through the mists of her tears.
The whole day, she kept busy.
She would not think about Fraser, or the perils, or tomorrow – household tasks abounded to draw her attention to the present, to let her have peace, and to make her believe that there wasn't a future wherein Fraser would leave.
She collapsed into her bed that night and slept instantly.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CONFRONTATION AND PERIL
CONFRONTATION AND PERIL
“Ride, man. Ride!”
Fraser shouted it crisply to the man, Julian, who rode on his right. They were racing to the castle that sat on the hilltop opposite.
Well, maybe not a castle. It's more of a fortress, Fraser thought. Imposing, stone-built and well-placed, the fort was nonetheless quite small. He heard his horse's hoof-beats roll on the cobbles, joining the thunder of Henri and Julian, riding alongside him.
Black cloaks flowed out behind them, billowing on the wind. They had planned this. They would assume the identity of the men sent to harm Bernadette. With any luck, those three men were still around, and had not returned to Corron. The lady was still alive, after all. Therefore, they were presumably to stay put until their task was through.
Please, keep her safe. I can't imagine what I'd do if I'd ridden away and left her to a worse fate.
Fraser bit his lip and tried to focus on the present moment, on the roll and rhythm of the race down the street to the castle. A cowled hood covered his head. He fervently hoped that the shadows that it cast disguised his face, as much as the same hoods disguised Henri and Julian, at his sides.
“Halt! State your business,” the sentry on the gate challenged them.
Fraser felt his heart thudding in his chest. This was the one hole in their plan: If the three dark-cloaked men were known here, the sentry would challenge them to reveal their identities somehow.
Moreover, if the somehow is a secret word, we'll be in for discovery, much too fast.
Fraser licked his lips and snapped at the man. “Open the gate, you fool. We have urgent news. We must see the count.”
“Eh?” the guard frowned at him. “Jules, is that..?”
“Open the gate,” he snapped. “Of course it's me. Stop messing about.”
The guard blinked, but the effect of a direct command was overpowering. Fraser felt his heart soar as he opened the gate.
The three of them rode in quickly.
It was only after the gate had closed behind them that Fraser heard some murmurs from the wall. Their identity was evidently under hot debate. He felt sweat trickle down his spine and forced himself to sit straight and remain calm. The men wouldn't guess what he had done. Why would they?
“My lord?”
“Shush. We're nearly within.”
It was true. The courtyard opened out around them and they were faced with stables on one side, a bake-house looming close, and the imposing front of the hall, a tower rising up before them to loom above their heads.
“Small, isn't it?”
“Yes,” Fraser said tersely. “Let's go inside.”
Swinging down from the saddle imperiously, he tossed the reins to a waiting groom. “See that he's fed and watered,” he snapped. “Now, let's go.”
He and his companions walked briskly to the door.
“Jules?” the sentry called to Fraser.
He turned, slowly. He was wearing the cowl still, and he hoped he looked superficially like Jules, at least enough to fool the guardsmen. “Yes?” he snapped. “Hurry up. No time – we have to tell the count some news.”
The man blinked. The transformation in Jules seemed to bewilder him. Fraser recalled belatedly that he'd not spoken with the Northern accent Jules favored. He cleared his throat.
“We need to see him at once,” he added, modulating his voice differently, adding an accent.
“Uh, of course. Go on,” the sentry nodded, stepping swiftly aside to let them enter.
Fraser nodded to Julian and they stalked into the hall.
It was dark inside. Fraser, dazzled after the sunshine without, fought the urge to remove the cowl. Not yet. They had to get close to the count first. He hadn't really planned what happened next.
“His lordship is in the study,” a tall, older man with white hair said, approaching them.
“Oh.” Fraser felt his breath quicken. That was good. If they had to confront him here, things might get tricky. Alone in a turret somewhere was better. “Good. We need to speak alone.”
The man's eyes widened, but he raised a hand to beckon them. “As you wish,” he said.
They followed him into the hallway. It was fortunate, Fraser reflected as they walked, that the man wanted to announce their presence to the count. The three men evidently worked at the castle and would likely know where the study was. They would have given themselves away too quickly if they'd needed to find it unguided. Blundering about in the fort was not the way Fraser wanted to do this.
“My lord?” the steward called, making them pause in a dark hallway.
“Yes,” a tired, grating voice said. It sounded like a man fighting a headache. “What is it, Villiers? Be quick about it.”
“Visitors, my lord. The, um...men you sought?”
“Ah.” the voice changed, the weariness lifting somewhat. “Send them in.”
Fraser and Henri glanced at each other. Fraser felt himself tense with anger. The fact that the man was expecting them made it worse. He clearly wanted them to bring a report that his plan was working. That Bernadette was fatally ill.
The anger that welled up inside of him was uncontrollable. Fraser froze where he was, fighting it down. He drew in a shuddering breath.
“Lord Count,” he said. His voice was grating and he heard the man push back his chair, and fought the rage so that he could look up without it being detected in his expression. He found himself looking into a lean, handsome face perhaps fifteen years older than his own. He stared. After so long trying to visualize him, he was finally face to face. The man was...well, ordinary. Not as foul and dark-countenanced as he'd imagined – rather, he was more handsome than ordinary. However, he was nonetheless a wicked man.
“Good afternoon,” the man said politely. “What report, friend?”
Fraser clenched his jaw. “Urgent news,” he said. He was so angry that his voice came out all tight and choked, a fact that probably made it more believable. The count stood.
“Speak up, man,” he said. “I'm tired and my head aches.”
Fraser closed his eyes. This man had put Bernadett
e through agony. How dare he? “Come closer,” he invited. “This is for your ears alone.”
“Oh, stop being dramatic, Jules,” he said wearily. “I expect obedience, not theatricality.”
Nonetheless, he stepped round the desk and faced Fraser.
Fraser counted. One step, two steps...now.
He stepped forward. Shot out a hand and grabbed the man's throat.
He coughed, fought, and strained, and Fraser pressed down, pressing his throat hard, hating himself for doing it. He was relieved when the other two men came to stand beside him. The count was fighting, hitting out at him, but he was struggling less and less as his face reddened.
Fraser closed his own eyes as the man started to cough. He was clearly in agony and Fraser shuddered, then let go. He couldn't do it. He hadn't planned to kill him, just to scare him. He was no murderer – he had never murdered someone and he wasn't going to sink to this man's level. He stepped back.
The count collapsed on the floor, clawing at his throat. Fraser, Julian and Henri looked down at him as he coughed and wheezed and gasped.
“That was to remind you,” Fraser said softly, “that Lady Bernadette is inviolable. I didn't kill you. But if you send your men after her or attempt to poison her again, I will do so.”
The man made an awful sighing sound and then sat up. Fraser looked down into his face.
“Who...you?” he rasped.
“No matter who I am,” Fraser said. He was still wearing the cowl and decided to leave it where it was. “I will haunt you. If you dare to touch her again, I will know. And you will die.”
The count coughed, wheezed, and staggered to his feet. His face had returned from the dreadful suffused purple-red to a paler color. His eyes streamed and his voice still rasped in his bruised, tormented windpipe. He laughed. “You think you can...threaten me..?” he hissed. “You won't leave...here...living.”
Fraser raised a brow. “I beg to disagree,” he said mildly. “We are about to walk out unmolested.”
The count laughed. “Try it,” he wheezed. “Men will...stop...challenge...”
Fraser looked at Julian and Henri. Henri shrugged.
“Let's take his word,” he suggested. “Best go, sir.”
Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 29
