Passion's Twins

by Dee Brice

“’Tis her right,” Aida soothed. “She will rule here as regent once the rest of you leave.”

  “So my aunt claims,” Pippa groused. Banan squeezed her hand, effectively silencing her.

  “What plans, Aunt?” Yvonne repeated Pippa’s question.

  Gaspar answered. “Before the family disperses, we intend to marry and move to the manor house on Marchon’s border.”

  Yvonne and Willa rushed to hug Aida and to kiss Gaspar’s flushed cheek. The husbands raised their tankards and called out their best wishes.

  “A quiet ceremony,” Aida said, her gaze focused on Pippa’s sullen face.

  “I forbid it! That is, Mother forbade you to marry. Therefore, I also forbid it.”

  “Why?” Banan asked. “Why did Kerrie forbid them to marry?”

  Vinn and Gareth leaned forward in their chairs, their interest apparent. Willa and Yvonne looked puzzled.

  Gaspar squeezed Aida’s hand, saying, “Although Audra—Kerrie and Aida’s mother—said nothing to us…Aida and I believe she knew we would have no children of our own.”

  “So?” Pippa sniped.

  “Your mother,” Aida said, clinging to Gaspar’s hand, “was determined not to marry. Audra used my barrenness—”

  “Our barrenness,” Gaspar corrected gently.

  “To force Kerrie to produce an heir for Marchonland.”

  Gaspar continued. “Your aunt and I were content as we were and saw no need to marry. Until now.”

  “Seeing you so happy with one another…” Aida sighed and brushed away a tear.

  “Your regency here at Marchonland has yet to begin,” Yvonne reminded her red-faced youngest sister. “Should Willa decide to remain here—”

  “I shan’t. The Eyrie will keep Vinn and me busy and content for years. Then—should Rowena or Edina refuse Serenity…”

  “As queen,” Yvonne continued, addressing Aida and Gaspar. “I give you my blessing to wed, but…a quiet ceremony is out of the question. Everyone on Marchonland loves you both and will want to wish you happy.” Before Pippa could mutter another protest, Yvonne continued. “As soon as Basil and Beatrix depart, we shall have another wedding.”

  Gareth’s muffled chuckle brought her eyes to his face.

  “I do not consider Beaufort’s rulers family, Gareth. Moreover, I have little wish to have them witness the love our people have for Aida and Gaspar. It might make them feel slighted—despite the twins’ short acquaintance with all of us.”

  “Moreover,” Gareth echoed, laughter in both voice and eyes, “they have a coronation to plan.”

  “Aye…if those wretched girls ever make up their minds,” Pippa muttered.

  “Will you not wish me happy, Pippa? Wish us happy?” Aida asked softly.

  Pippa rushed to Aida’s side. Kneeling at her aunt’s feet, she buried her face in Aida’s skirts. “You know I do wish you all the happiness in the world.” Brushing tears from her cheeks, she held out her hand to Gaspar. “As usual I thought only of myself. Despite my years of training I…I have no idea how to govern, let alone manage a household so large as Marchon Castle.”

  “You’ll learn,” her sisters and aunt assured her all together.

  “As Kerrie—may she rest in peace—had to learn when our mother died. As I had to learn when Kerrie assigned me the role of chatelaine. ‘Tis one thing to train, quite another to carry out those duties. I think every maid and footman expected Kerrie and me to make a mess of things.”

  “But you managed splendidly,” Gaspar said, patting Aida’s hand. Turning his attention to Pippa, he added, “Besides, we’ll not be that far away. Should you need us—”

  “Send a pigeon,” Aida finished, stroking Pippa’s auburn curls.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Speaking of the twins—your sounding like them called them to mind,” Vinn clarified. “When do you expect a decision from them? Willa grows more anxious by the minute, worrying about Serenity.”

  “I doubt Rowena will choose Serenity,” Gareth said. “Not if she loves Edgar as much as I believe she does. Serenity will need constant tending for many years.”

  “And?” Yvonne bared her teeth, demanding the truth and all of it—right now!

  “Like your father Alexandre, Edgar likes to travel.”

  Her leather slipper tapping the floor, Yvonne prompted, “And?”

  “Rowena seems to enjoy adventure. Moreover, I doubt Edgar will leave her at Serenity while he trades his way…here and there.”

  Yvonne murmured, “Edgar is a trader.”

  “Like your father,” Gareth repeated. “Edgar has proven himself a very canny trader.” Turning his head, he met Willa’s turquoise gaze. “Does it matter who rules Serenity, Willa? Would you object to Edina and Gerard having your lands to rule?”

  “No.” She sighed. “’S’truth, I pray Rowena will choose Beaufort. With her training and an established staff in place, she’ll find it easy—easier at least—to travel with Edgar.” A blush staining her cheeks, she confessed, “Moreover…I thought Edgar too young to command seasoned troops. But I now see that leading treks here and there admirably qualifies him for Beaufort. As Gerard’s greater maturity more than qualifies him to rule Serenity. To share rule with Edina.”

  “Then we’ve settled it. Good,” Banan said as he stood.

  “No!” four women protested.

  “The choice,” Willa said to Banan, “remains with the twins.”

  “Then we must wait,” Banan muttered. Sighing as he sat, he pulled Pippa onto his lap.

  “Think of it as waiting for a new foal to appear,” Pippa advised, stroking her husband’s cheek. “Or waiting for a baby’s birth.” She gently touched her stomach, holding out her other hand to Banan.

  “Are you—?”

  “Breeding? I believe I am, m’lord. Duke or duchess, your heir.” She gave him a pleading look.

  “Aye, love. Duke or duchess, our heir.”

  With her sisters and aunt now crowding around her, Pippa smiled through her tears.

  “Small wonder you tried to pick a fight,” Willa said, laughing.

  “Small wonder,” Aida echoed wiping tears from her eyes, “you want us to remain here at Marchon Castle.”

  “I…Banan and I would like that very much, wouldn’t we?”

  Looking as if he’d rather she consign him to hell, Banan nodded.

  Yvonne noted his soft smile seemed to admit he owed the meddling couple.

  “Aye, Pippa. Duke or duchess, our heir. I knew I’d prove the better man,” he said, standing to clamp his hands on Gareth’s and Vinn’s shoulders.

  “Not exactly,” Yvonne and Willa chorused then fell into each other’s arms. Pippa—everyone—joined in, bestowing handshakes and kisses and toasting to everyone’s health.

  “Well,” Banan said when the merriment subsided, “it appears we all shall remain at Marchon Castle. How long…? Er, when are you all due?”

  “February,” Yvonne said, her gaze fastened on Gareth’s happy face.

  “March, I believe,” Willa said, grinning at a shocked-looking Vinn.

  “Aye, when the orchard is awash with apple blossoms in full-bloom,” Vinn agreed before kissing his wife’s cheek.

  “And their scent no longer assaults our bellies,” Pippa added as Banan kissed her palm. “Or so I hope. April for our babe, Banan. Youngest, like her mother.”

  “Or his. At last,” he said, “something more to celebrate!”

  * * * * *

  Yvonne’s Solar—The Next Morning

  A firm rap took Gareth’s attention from his wife’s training with her men to her solar door. “Enter,” he called, turning to find Basil stepping in then half closing the door.

  “If the time is inconvenient, Gareth, I can return later.”

  Mistrusting Basil’s motives for seeking him when Yvonne was occupied elsewhere, Gareth motioned the older man to a chair. “Now will do as well as another time.”

  After shutting the door fully, Basil sat. “B
efore we consent to our daughters marrying your brothers, Beatrix and I would have a boon from you,” Basil said, a hint of obsequiousness in his voice.

  Gareth’s wariness increased. Shrugging to hide his stiffening posture, he suggested, “Any boon is up to Yvonne to grant. You—better yet Beatrix—should ask her.”

  Basil cleared his throat. “’S’truth, your lady wife intimidates my wife.”

  “Then you should ask Yvonne on Beatrix’s behalf.”

  Basil heaved a sigh. “I’d rather keep this between us.”

  “Then you need to be more forthright. What is the favor you want, Basil?”

  “Before I tell you what I want, I must first confide something about Rowena.”

  Sitting on the pillowed window seat, Gareth nodded his willingness to listen.

  “A short time ago Rowena fancied herself in love with one of my barons. Roland…Roland was ambitious. I believed he might seduce Rowena in order to gain Beaufort, so I sent him away. Which broke Rowena’s heart.”

  Sensing Basil would welcome questions about Rowena’s wounded heart, Gareth took a moment for himself. Looking out the window, he saw that Yvonne had shed her chain mail and now wielded her sword clad in trunk hose and short chemise. Sweat dampened the short curls around her face and made the linen cling to her breasts. Her men were accustomed to seeing her thus. His men—those still at Puttupon—were not. Should he caution them not to ogle her or risk her wounding those who stared? Realizing Yvonne would likely stick her sword in him should he intervene, he chuckled.

  Basil’s swearing drew Gareth’s gaze to the king. “You find my daughter’s heart laughable?”

  Gareth, refusing to be baited, said mildly, “How long ago did Roland inflict this wound on Rowena?”

  Basil coughed and looked away.

  Pressing, Gareth said, “How short is a short time ago, Basil? A few months or several years?”

  “I only want to ensure my daughter’s happiness. I want to send for Roland, bring him here so Rowena and he can be certain their attraction no longer exists. ‘Tis fair to everyone involved—Edgar especially.”

  Were Gareth at Puttupon he would quiz Basil until the older man admitted his lies. But here in Marchonland it remained Yvonne’s decision. He trusted her to see beneath Basil’s bluster and to learn the truth as to why Basil wanted Roland here.

  Standing, Gareth said, “I shall inform my brothers their weddings are delayed…a short time.”

  “If Yvonne agrees to send her pigeons—as she did to request Beatrix’s and my presence here—I believe we can expect Roland within the fortnight.”

  “From where will he arrive?”

  Basil’s upper lip curled. “The queendom of Outerford. It seems, Gareth, our kingdoms are surrounded by women.” Halting at the door, he looked back. “May I have your word you won’t disclose our conversation to anyone?”

  “Unless you wish to explain to my brothers, I must offer them an explanation of some sort.”

  “Tell them…tell them the seamstresses need more time to make the brides’ gowns. If they fail to understand a woman’s desire to look her best at her wedding,” he shrugged, “they aren’t the men we believe them to be.”

  When I learn your true desires, Gareth vowed, I shall show you what kinds of men my brothers and I are.

  * * * * *

  An hour later Yvonne burst into her solar. Noting her furious expression, Gareth stood and gestured at their bedchamber. “A bath awaits, my queen. The tepid water may cool your temper as well as your body.”

  “Were he not the twins’ father, I’d use King Basil for my target! Delay the weddings for some lowly baron! Test Rowena’s true feelings for Edgar! Pfft!”

  Knowing Yvonne only used her mother’s favorite word when truly angry, Gareth took her hand to lead her to their inner chamber.

  “I despise liars! I threatened him—I had to threaten a king with the oubliette before he confessed what he wants.”

  “Which is?” Gareth’s voice—mild with a hint of demand—brought Yvonne’s gaze to his face.

  Exhaling, she laughed. “I should have known he’d come to you first.”

  “King to king, aye.”

  “Man to man,” she corrected, clearly disgusted. Pulling the laces on her gambeson, she sauntered close enough to tug Gareth with her. “Wouldst bathe with me, husband?”

  “I’ll scrub your back.”

  She eyed him as she finished undressing. “I suspect you are withholding favors until I tell you Basil’s true reasons for bringing Roland to Marchonland.”

  “Trust me, Yvonne. Were supper farther away, I would join you. I’m rather fond of Kerrie’s bath.” He held Yvonne’s hand as she stepped over the copper tub’s high side then settled into its depths.

  “’Tis not too cool,” she said, fastening her auburn tresses atop her head. She slanted him an inviting look that almost undid his resolve not to join her. He shook his head. She thrust out her lower lip, making him laugh before kissing away her pout.

  Easing back, looking into her eyes he saw that she was still angry. “If we are to present a united front on this Roland matter, shouldn’t I know Basil’s wishes?”

  She handed Gareth a cloth and bar of lavender-scented soap. As he washed her slender back she said, “Basil wants Rowena to have everything. Beaufort, Serenity and, were you not already married, Puttupon. Since Gerard is—until our babe’s birth—your heir, he is as close to gaining Puttupon as Basil can get. Yet.”

  “He has no such plans for Edina?”

  “Were the heir to Outerford out of swaddling, I believe Basil would have her marry him.” Standing, Yvonne steadied herself on Gareth’s shoulder and stepped out of the tub. “Oh, I almost forgot. Basil has already sent for Roland who should arrive within the week.”

  At her wry tone, Gareth stopped drying her. “So Roland is simply a pawn in Basil’s schemes. High-handed—”

  “Arrogant would-be usurper,” Yvonne finished for him.

  “How’d you get that information from him?”

  Yvonne bared her teeth, her warrior look giving her answer.

  * * * * *

  The Next Morning

  Anchored in the middle of the Marchon River, the servants awaiting on the shore to serve them nuncheon, Beatrix said, “I have never fished before.”

  Laughing, Yvonne finished baiting the queen’s bone hook and settled the fishing pole in Beatrix’s hands. “’Tis a curious thing, but I find fishing calming. And there is a certain satisfaction when the fish appears on my trencher and I pretend ‘tis the very fish I caught myself.”

  “Yvonne is very good at pretending,” Pippa advised Beatrix and the twins. “’S’truth, even if we catch not a single trout, she will claim she caught enough to feed everyone.”

  “Both in the village and within the castle,” Willa added, laughter in her voice.

  “Beaufort lacks a barge like yours,” Rowena told them, gazing up at the canopy shielding them from the bright morning sun. “’Tis large enough to sail all the way to Beaufort.”

  “Were the rivers between here and there wide and deep enough to allow it,” Willa said.

  “I believe our new brothers taught Rowena and Edina how to fish,” Pippa volunteered, mischief in her tawny eyes.

  “Did you tickle the trout?” Yvonne asked, having noticed the grimace the twins exchanged. Obviously they had not enjoyed the fishing lessons.

  “T-Tickled?” Edina looked completely repulsed. “I couldn’t even bring myself to touch one of those scaly creatures.”

  “Nor could I,” Rowena admitted. “Which is why Gerard had to remove those I caught from my hook.”

  “Gerard?” Beatrix looked surprised. “I thought ‘twas Edgar you favor.”

  “I love Edgar, Mother.”

  Seizing the opportunity to introduce the subject she most wanted to discuss, Yvonne said, “As much as you loved…? I can’t recall the baron’s name.”

  “Roland?” Beatrix suggested, a fro
wn marring her high forehead. “How do you know about him?” Her frown deepening, she spat, “Basil!”

  “Father told you?” Rowena whispered, her face blanched.

  “Yes. In fact Basil has sent for him. Your suitor will arrive a few days hence,” Yvonne told the pale girl.

  “Wretched man,” Edina said, patting her sister’s clenched hands then prying them apart to entwine their fingers.

  “Why?” Rowena wailed.

  Beatrix answered. “To test your love for Edgar and his for you. Is that what my husband told you, Yvonne?”

  “Yes.” Unable to restrain a smile, Yvonne asked in her sweetest voice, “Would you like me to waylay Roland before he reaches Marchon Castle?”

  “Throwing both Basil and Roland into the oubliette,” Pippa said, “would solve the problem once and forever.”

  “Pippa!” Willa protested.

  “’Tis something to consider,” Beatrix admitted then shivered. “Imprisoning a king aside, despite his faults I love my husband.”

  “Besides,” Edina said, “Roland cannot distinguish one of us from the other. I could pretend to be you, Rowena.”

  “We promised Edgar and Gerard we wouldn’t play that game again. What’s more, once Father realizes that Roland was a young girl’s folly he’ll see—”

  Beatrix interrupted, “He’ll see only what he wants to see.”

  “Which is?” Yvonne needed to know how well Beatrix could predict her husband’s response to seeing his daughter with the men seeking her hand. Moreover, she needed to prevent those same men trying to kill each other.

  Drawing Rowena into her arms, Beatrix said, “Basil will again see Roland’s greed for power. ‘Tis why Basil sent the knave away years ago. What my husband won’t see is how well suited Edgar and Rowena are. Or,” she amended, smiling at her younger daughter, “how perfectly Gerard matches with Edina.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” the twins murmured. Rowena eased from her mother’s embrace.

  “We need a plan,” Yvonne pressed.

  “Rowena,” Edina said softly, “there is no other way. We must play the game once more. I’ll tell Gerard so he won’t kill Roland on the spot.”

  “I… Must I tell Edgar? He always has despised our changing places.” Sighing, Rowena sat straighter. “I suppose I must tell him so he’ll refrain from attacking his brother.”