by Fiona Faris
Just as he was about to kiss her, and a second before she could back up, Madeleine felt a strong hand close around her waist. “There ye are my darling, I was wondering where ye might have gotten off to. I see that I can no’ leave ye alone for even a minute!”
Pierre and Madeleine both turned with surprise to the man standing beside her. He was just over six feet tall and seemed to be made of muscle on top of muscle over every inch of his body. His hair was as black as the night, slightly tousled and curled roguishly over his forehead, coming to his sky-blue eyes. His mouth formed a half-smile with a dimple in one cheek, and his squared jaw was set in determination.
Madeleine only froze for a split second, but the feel of his strong arm around her and his broad hand on her waist warmed her quite a bit, to her great surprise. His eyes locked on hers, and for an instant, everything within her felt as though it were not tethered to the ground at all, but instead floated freely through the expanse of the universe.
The man turned his intense gaze to Pierre then, and the older man seemed taken aback by it.
“Have a fine evening, Sir,” he intoned seriously.
Pierre nodded, unable to speak, and turned, leaving them alone. Madeleine gasped and faced the man beside her. She couldn’t even say that he was handsome; it was beyond that. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it.
“I’m sorry to step in so suddenly, but ye looked truly trapped.” He grinned at her, and she discovered that he actually had a dimple in each cheek.
“I… I was!” she stammered, trying to find her voice. “Thank ye! I haven’a been here at court verra long, and I wasn’a sure how to get out of it. If I was anywhere else, he’d never have gotten that close to me, but I’m at a loss here in this strange place.”
“I am pleased to help,” he replied pleasantly, gazing at her as if he was looking right through her. Her seeming transparency to him gave her a bit of unease.
“You’re Scottish?” she asked, knowing by his accent that he was.
“Aye, I am, and so are ye,” he answered, his hand still on her waist. He hadn’t taken it back when Pierre had left.
“I… I am.” She tried to recover herself, feeling somehow lost and found all at once. “I’m Lady Madeleine Campbell.” She managed a smile, and realized as she did it, that it was genuine. She’d been giving so many manufactured smiles to strangers that it felt unusual to offer a real one.
He raised a brow slightly, though his reaction was masked by a stoic face. “Campbell?”
“Yes. And ye are?” Curiosity bubbled through her mind.
He hesitated for a long moment, studying her face and her eyes. “Ye can call me Fyn.”
She felt as if the air had gone out of her lungs. “Well, Fyn. Thank ye for stepping in when ye did. ‘Tis certain ye saved my whole night.”
“Did I? Perhaps ye might gift me with a wee bit o’ it then.” His blue eyes twinkled as he took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his warm lips over the back of her fingers and lingering there a long moment as his eye held hers before he let her hand go.
Chapter Three
Madeleine stared at Fyn as he pressed his lips to her fingers and then raised his eyes to meet hers again. Everything in her felt as tight as a sail on a ship in the wind. She could hardly breathe, and somehow, everything around them seemed to fade away, almost as if the two of them were no longer standing near a lake at a party hosted by French royalty.
His words filtered slowly through her mind. “Gift you with some of my… night?” she asked, trying to force her brain to start working. It had somehow come to a complete halt.
A wide smile spread over Fyn’s face as he gazed at Madeleine. “As much of it as you might have to spare for a new friend. I would consider myself the luckiest man at this party if you did.”
Blinking a few times in disbelief, Madeleine felt herself nodding. “Aye, that I can dae for ye, at least for a short while, if ye like. I dae have to get back to my friends soon, however.”
Fyn gave her a nod of acquiescence as the music echoed around them like an embrace. “Then I shall take ye back to your friends, but forgive me if I walk slowly, to keep ye at my side as long as I may.”
Madeleine’s heart began to race, as if she had been running far and fast, and she couldn’t begin to imagine why. She had never reacted to any man the way that she was involuntarily reacting to Fyn. Struggling within herself, she managed to voice one of the dozens of questions that tumbled through her thoughts just then.
“What clan are ye from?” she tried to force her voice to sound as strong and even as she wished that it was at that moment.
Fyn turned his head to look at her, studying her face for a time before he looked away, and then after a long minute, he answered her. “Stewart.”
Madeleine smiled. “The Stewart clan are friends of the Campbells. I’m pleased to have met one, especially so far from home, and just when I needed a bit o’ help.”
Fyn returned her sweetness and rested his hand on hers for a moment, where it was tucked into his arm. “I can no’ have a lady o’ my own homeland in distress at the hands of an old Frenchman, now can I?” He chuckled then. “Besides… how else would I have gotten to get so close to ye on our very first night together?”
With a humored gasp, Madeleine raised a brow. “Our first night? Dae ye intend that there will be more nights when we are together?”
He looked into her eyes, and somehow right through her again. “Aye, lassie. As sure as the moon and the stars are watching over us right now; they will be watching over us on many other nights to come.”
Madeleine was stunned by his assuredness, and it left her speechless. She could only stare at him for a moment in total surprise. Before she could find her tongue to reply to him, he tipped his head toward a group of people not far away from them.
“We’ve come to your friends, I believe. They’ve a taste for fine company, it seems. They’re with my friend. Come, I’ll walk with ye, though I’m sorry to bring you back to them so soon. I’d have kept ye to myself the whole night if I could have.” Fyn turned his attention to the small group a few steps from them as Madeleine walked beside him, everything in her spinning at the boldness of Fyn Stewart, and the honesty he’d astounded her with.
Men of different ages had been keenly interested in Madeleine since she’d blossomed into a young woman, and many of them had tried different tacks to win her attention and, ultimately, her affections. None of them had even so much as interested her beyond friendship. She had never been at a loss around any of them; to the contrary, she was always the one in the lead, the one telling them that they could remain as a companion, but not a partner. She was always in control, of herself, her emotions and reactions, and of the course of direction that her relationship with every one of the men interested in her took. There had never been a time when she had not been in control; never a time when she had experienced the slightest imbalance or loss of possession of any faculty within herself.
Her mind spun wildly as she tried to figure out what it was about Fyn that had faltered her composure and left her feeling instability in place of her usual self-assuredness. Nothing came to her mind. All that she knew for certain was that there was something about him, or perhaps there were many things about him, that caught her completely off guard; and worse than that, she couldn’t decide if being caught so off guard was something that she liked or not. If she’d felt unsafe, she wouldn’t have liked it, and she’d have been able to react accordingly, but she did feel safe around him, and so she was confused, safe and totally uncertain all at the same time. It was cold fire and hot ice, and she could make no sense of it.
“Oh Maddie! There you are! I’m so glad that you’re back so soon!” Anne reached a hand toward her warmly.
“Maddie?” Fyn asked quietly, eyeing her with a wink and a smile as one of his dimples deepened in his cheek.
Madeleine felt her face heat as she blushed slightly. She blinked and nodde
d, looking away from him. “Yes, my friends call me Maddie,” she answered with as even a tone as she could manage. She was filled with consternation about him.
“What happened to Pierre?” Marie asked with piqued interest as she took in the big man beside Madeleine.
“I interrupted them just in time, and I have returned your friend to ye untouched and much happier for it.” Fyn grinned at the group of ladies around them. Standing with the ladies was a man about the same height and build as Fyn and the same age, though he had red hair and blue eyes. His gaze shifted from Fyn to Madeleine, and he raised his brows interestedly.
“My braw cousin! It seems that you’ve found one of the most beautiful ladies at court! Please, introduce me to this heavenly angel!” The man took a few steps forward and locked his light eyes on Madeleine. Madeleine wished that she could somehow become invisible and disappear. She couldn’t remember the last time there had been so much attention lavished on her, particularly from men all so eager to be at her side and entertain her interest.
Fyn rested a hand on Madeleine’s back. “The Lady Madeleine Campbell of Scotland. This is my cousin, Jacques de Guise. He’s a distant cousin of Mary, Queen of Scots.”
Jacques eyes widened in surprise. “Campbell? Well, I’m certain she wasn’t expecting to meet you here. I hope she’s not displeased-”
Fyn interrupted Jacques before he could continue. “Of course she’s pleased to meet me. I told her I’m Fyn Stewart. The Stewart and Campbell clans have long been friends, and that friendship is as strong in France as it is in Scotland.”
Jacques stared into Fyn’s eyes for a long moment. “Fyn Stewart.”
Fyn nodded. “Aye.” He said sternly.
After a long, silent pause, Jacques shrugged and smiled again. “And right you are. Let’s turn our attention to the joys of the evening!” With that, Jacques kissed the back of Madeleine’s hand and then bowed slightly to her. “I’m so delighted to make your acquaintance. Now, let us celebrate new friends with old wine!”
The group of ladies laughed, and Jacques reached for Marguerite, pulling her close to him as they all walked toward a table where wine was being poured. Fyn took Madeleine’s hand and tucked it back into his arm, keeping her back so that they trailed a step or two behind their group of friends.
Madeleine frowned slightly. “Why did he say that? Why wouldn’a I be pleased tae meet you?”
Fyn sighed. “It has to dae with the fact that I am Scottish, but I’ve been living here in France for the last several years. Jacques thinks that the clans all fight amongst themselves too often, and he can never keep up with which clans are friends and which are not. I ken he was worried that you might be upset that I’m a Stewart, but he doesn’t ken that the Stewarts and the Campbells are friends.”
Madeleine felt a smile forming as she listened to Fyn. “That we are.” She agreed with him. “He need no’ fash otherwise.”
“My point exactly.” Fyn beamed down at her as he handed her a glass of wine.
The group stood together, sipping their drinks and talking for a short time, and all the while, Fyn remained at Madeleine’s side, and the longer he did, the more she felt confused and spellbound by him and by her reactions to him. It confounded her in the extreme, though she tried with all of her might to ignore it. She caught Jacques looking from Fyn to her a few times, and she wondered why he looked at them with the interest that he did.
“This seems to be the liveliest and most fun group at the party! Do you mind if we join you?” A deep voice sounded throughout the friends.
“Oh yes, please!” Claudine bubbled happily. She turned then and faced Madeleine.
“Maddie! This is James II of Crussol. James, this is our friend, Lady Madeleine Campbell of Scotland.”
Madeleine looked up and saw the handsome man who had been watching her from a distance before. She remembered what her friends had said about him being a catch. He looked intrigued by her, and his intense gaze made her feel as though a swarm of butterflies was trying to escape from within her.
“Lady Madeleine Campbell, what a true pleasure it is to meet you. You are a stunning beauty. I don’t know how any man in Scotland ever let you get as far away as France, but you shine like a bright star here among us, and we are blessed to have you in our company.” He bowed slightly before her and then took her hand, kissing it as he gave her a lingering gaze. Fyn bore his eyes into James, but James ignored him completely and focused solely on Madeleine.
“Is this your first time in France, my dear?” He asked, staring at her as if there was no one else around.
She looked back at him, taking in his dark brown hair and eyes. Her friends were right. He was handsome, with finely chiseled features and a solid, muscular build. He was elegantly dressed in exquisite clothing, and he spoke confidently and well.
“‘Tis,” Madeleine answered him.
He watched her and tilted his head slightly. “How very lucky for all of us. And how are you finding it?”
Madeleine felt her cheeks blush warm again. “It’s lovely. Such a bonnie country.”
“I’m pleased that you’re enjoying it. I must take you out to show you more of it. You’re staying with your aunt, Lady Margaret Macleod Deschamps, no?” he asked, sounding as if it was more of a definite plan than a question.
The butterflies in Madeleine erupted with even wilder abandon. She glanced nervously at the other ladies around her and found nothing but encouraging grins willing her onward. Madeleine nodded and felt Fyn’s eyes steadily on her. “Aye, I am staying with my aunt.”
“Wonderful. She’s a lovely woman. I’ll come to take you for an outing tomorrow, unless you have other plans.” James looked as if he fully expected her to be free when he wanted her to be.
Madeleine felt Claudine nudge her, and the nudge spurred an answer from her. “Aye, aye, of course. I am free, actually. An outing would be nice. Thank ye.”
James looked tremendously pleased. “It will be my distinct honor. I shall count every moment until then, my enchanting dove.” He smiled triumphantly and reached for her hand, kissing it again. Fyn tensed beside her, and though he wasn’t touching Madeleine, she could still sense it keenly.
Madeleine wasn’t the only person who detected it. James met Fyn’s eyes and gave him a cool and warning look. Fyn matched it, clenching his jaw.
Jacques, watching the tension grow between his cousin and James, reached a hand up to James’ shoulder. “I heard talk of the hunt you went on today. Please, regale us with the story of it! I’d be interested to hear if it was truly as wild and successful a ride as the rumors say.”
James grinned proudly and puffed his chest out somewhat. “Yes, it was a very good hunt indeed. I’d be happy to share the details with you, but perhaps it’s too shocking a tale to speak of in front of the ladies.” He gave Madeleine a flirtatious smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my beautiful lady.” With that, he turned, and Jacques, shooting a look over his shoulder at Fyn, walked away with James to hear the hunting story.
Fyn sighed and turned to Madeleine. She felt a strange sensation of guilt at the very edges of her thoughts, though she didn’t know why. “You’re going to spend time with James?” He asked her evenly.
“It seems so.” She replied, knowing there was really no way out of it.
Fyn reached a hand up to her cheek and stroked it tenderly. “Save some time for me as well then. Don’t give all your time… or anything else to him.”
Madeleine felt her cheeks turn pink again and wished with everything in her that she could be standing with Jacques and James, talking about hunting. She knew she could discuss hunting for hours and never blush once.
“Would you like to see me again?” Fyn asked, his eyes locked on hers.
Madeleine didn’t know what made her say it, or how she could have sounded so certain, but she surprised herself when she answered him. “Aye, I would.”
Fyn grinned. “Then I will be there, once James is gone. I’m looking for
ward to time alone with ye.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to look away from him as everything inside her seemed to cartwheel. It was just then that she noticed the pale blonde girl who had been staring at James all night. She’d silently joined the group of ladies and Fyn.
When their eyes finally met, she reached her hand out to Madeleine. “Hello, Madeleine. I’m Francoise Louise. My friends call me Francie.”
Madeleine took the young woman’s hand and instantly felt a strong squeeze from her. It was a power move, meant to be intimidating, though Francie’s face was at rest, completely passive. There was something strong and willful in her blue eyes that Madeleine recognized; something that Madeleine knew, but in a very different way than what she was seeing in the girl who stood before her.
Chapter Four
