Looking up at him with love shining in her eyes, Liliane laughed. "Darling, I am not that much of a Tartar!"
Father Anselm beamed. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you are presenting milord with even one child. He has always wanted a family!"
Alexandre caught Charles and Anselm by the shoulders. "Come into the hall and we shall tell you of our travels. You will be far from bored, I promise."
As they passed into the castle, Liliane looked up at its mossy ramparts with a fondness she had not expected. Having been relegated to the occupation and maintenance of men, the great, cool rooms were as Spartan as ever, but spotless. Charles had evidently run the castle as a military garrison.
Within these walls Liliane had known hard times and good. That which she had once fled, she now welcomed, and dreaded only Alexandre's absence. How long would they have before Philip summoned him again? Wise enough not to press Alexandre's defiance, Philip had let him return for leave to Provence instead of commanding his company north to Paris. Aboard the royal ship, Philip had been charming to them both, but he spent most of his time in his cabin conferring with his ministers. Every day, he seemed less ill, and his color improved although he scarcely saw the sun. Once in France, Philip's energy and ambition were fairly tangible. In Richard's absence, he had plans to expand his power, and Liliane had no doubt that Alexandre was part of them. When the royal retinue left Massilia the morning after their arrival, Liliane began to count the days until Philip's summons came.
Once the servants were greeted, the retinue dismissed, and Alexandre and Liliane were alone with Charles and Father Anselm in the hall, Alexandre left out no detail of Liliane's courage and loyalty in recounting her determination to guard him from both enemy and assassins. When the account was over, Charles sat quietly for a considerable time, seeming to daydream while Father Anselm pounded Alexandre and Liliane with questions about holy places and relics. The priest was particularly fascinated with Kiki, who flirted with him outrageously. Liliane was surprised at the priest's innocent envy of their vivid adventures, for she had thought his interests lay mostly in full porringers. She was far more surprised at Charles when he stood finally and bowed again to her, this time without mockery.
"My lady, I welcome you back to Provence with all my heart," he said simply. "I will guard you and your children with my life."
Startled, Liliane sat quite still, then slowly, as she realized that he was deeply earnest, a quiet delight filled her face. She rose and softly kissed Charles on both cheeks. "My lord and I count ourselves greatly fortunate to have such a friend, sir. From this moment, you shall be as my brother."
A flicker of shyness in Charles's eye suggested to Alexandre that his friend might be hard put to sustain a brotherly detachment, and why not? In the sunlight slanting from the southern windows, Liliane looked like a vision woven in gold. Her shimmering blond hair, caught in its gilt and emerald filet, hung in a heavy braid that tempted a man's fingers. Her lovely face, which had been tranquil, was now flushed, her amber eyes bright with emotion as she faced Charles. This was a woman to love. He wanted Charles to love Liliane, but he envisioned that love as the chivalrous adoration one might pay to an untouchable goddess, not the need and desire of another man's wife. For all his cool calculation, Charles was impressionable; once his loyalty was given, it was wholehearted and passionate. Charles was lonely, his only prospects in the world linked to the Brueil demesne. He must take care that Charles was not led into unhappiness through his new devotion to Liliane.
Firmly casting aside his jealousy, Alexandre grasped Charles's shoulder. "Guard my family with my full trust and gratitude, mon ami. With God's good grace, our children will prosper here and endure for many generations to come." He turned. "May we ask your blessing, Father, upon our venture?"
"You have it most heartily, milord." The chubby priest beamed. "I look forward to baptizing a great many babies for you and milady. Bless you, I say; bless you all!"
For Alexandre and Liliane, the next weeks were spent in inspecting their fief. Charles had done his duty well. The crops had been good this year; the larders and storage sheds were full, and the hay was already stacked in the fields. The stock appeared to be sturdy and well able to endure the mild Mediterranean winter. The serfs were healthy and, while satisfied with Charles's rule over their affairs, happy to have their kindly master home.
In view of her pregnancy, Liliane was greeted with subdued courtesy rather than the silent hostility she had once suffered. Now, at least, she had the devoted loyalty of Alexandre's men-at-arms, who curtly reprimanded any imagined slight, to the bewilderment of the peasantry. As Alexandre had been in Palestine and Liliane supposedly in Spain, gossipers had begun to murmur that her child might not be his. Thanks to her new allies, those rumors were swiftly doused and, as she was so recently pregnant, the gossip could claim no foundation.
Each day, when their duties were done, Alexandre and Liliane took long rides upon the beach. Despite its rocky irregularity, the coast reminded them of sunny Acre as it might once have been in time of peace. "I often expect to see Acre's walls looming over my shoulder when we turn homeward again," Liliane told Alexandre one evening. "Castle de Brueil seems so small, so soft with age and ivy. Here, hounds instead of jackals clarion after rabbits, and the forests, lush even in their autumn cloak, make the pale, eternal desert seem a dream from another world." She looked into his eyes. "Now I know why home has meant so much to you. After I first went to Diego at Malaga, I was rarely more than a few days' ride away from my childhood home. I took being there for granted. Now I see Castle de Brueil as one of my children: precious, a little fragile, and in need of my love and protection."
Alexandre laughed softly. "So this crumbling old wreck is your child. How maternal you have become." He reined in his destrier, and, puzzled, she halted her own mare to watch him dismount. He lifted her down from the saddle. "Come, mother of the world, and walk with me. We had little enough chance for strolling the beach in Acre."
He led her for some distance in companionable conversation, then wandered to the water's edge. The lap and curl of the waves was gentle, its sigh soft. "Like a baby's gurgle," Alexandre murmured, his hand tightening on Liliane's. "Have I thanked you today for giving me a child?"
Liliane laughed, then laid her head on his shoulder. "You have, sir, just this morning, as you do each and every morning when you make love to me. 'Thank you, darling, for our child,' you say solemnly, as if you had nothing to do with the gift. Then you make such loveliness for me while the sun warms our bed. . ."
"Say you so solemnly, as if you had nothing to do with our lovemaking." He turned to wrap his arms about her. "I adore you." He kissed her softly, then with rising need. "Shall we make our loveliness here under the sky, with the sea to sing to us and lullaby the babe?"
"Aye, my lord," she whispered. "Love us both. We welcome thee with all our hearts and rejoice in thy affection."
She tugged his head down and kissed him with such longing and fervor that his body fired as if he had touched a flame. Sweeping his cloak about them, he drew her to the sand. Their lips met again, gently, then fiercely, their bodies growing impatient, their wills pressing back the impulse to thrust away their clothing and join with the urgency that would make their love-making too brief a blaze.
They had learned to savor each other, to let each caress build the coals of their passions slowly to a white heat. Alexandre parted Liliane's clothing and his own as if baring the secrets of the magic between them. She was warm silk against him, her breasts as round beneath his lips as the glorious fruit of Persia. Honey was in her mouth, between her thighs; in his manhood was a leaping fire, eager to set the sweetness of her aflame. His mouth covered the sensitive peak of her breast, sucking it to a taut, bursting point against his tongue. Liliane moaned softly, her fingers sliding along the length of his hardened shaft, tightening rhythmically with his quickened breathing.
Their caresses became a pulse, swelling to an almos
t unbearable ache. His lips trailed her armpits, beneath her breasts to her belly, his fingertips teasing the secret heart of her, probing gently, exquisitely to trace the path of their desire. When at last, she trembled and cried out softly her need of him, he let her guide his hardness into her soft depths, find her arching passion, her welling response to his slowly deepening thrusts. Their bodies moved as one, melted together. She wrapped herself about him, her lips brushing his chest until he was driving without restraint, with shivering sensation, with ecstasy that seared them both. Her breath, warm and damp, came quickly against his neck, her cry of rising excitement peaking, matching his own. He gasped, shuddering as his body spent itself in falling flame and left him supine in her close embrace.
"I could not hear the sea's lullaby," Liliane confessed with a smile to her lover a little time later. "Our bodies were singing too loudly.''
"Good sea, we beg your pardon," Alexandre called to the surf. "Do give us leave to try again." With a wicked grin, he began to softly whistle in Liliane's ear. Giggling, she feigned an effort to push him away, but as his lips covered hers, she gave a happy little sigh and tugged his cloak over their heads.
* * *
Despite the gladness of the Brueils' homecoming, the renewed prospect of trouble with the Signes soon threaded its familiar way through everyone's minds. Charles broached the subject one golden afternoon while he and Alexandre rode across the stubbled fields. "I suppose we will be shortly hearing from our jackal neighbors to the north now that King Philip is on his way to Paris."
Alexandre grinned. "No so soon as you might think. Philip loaned Jacques and Louis to Richard for the remainder of the campaign. He was not inclined to tolerate petty spats at his back while his intentions are set on regaining the Aquitaine. He will make the most of Richard's absence and pray he ends with an arrow in his gizzard, so that wizened John rules in his place. Prince John is no match for Philip."
Charles looked vastly relieved, then suddenly squinted puckishly. "Tell me, was Philip really sick? He seems to have recovered quickly enough upon setting foot upon French soil."
Alexandre's grin faded. "As King Richard observed, any doctor can make a man sick. My own honor was compromised by Philip's deception, for though I had doubts, he banished them. I really thought him ill."
"You love him. He would have played upon your concern."
"Do I detect a note of dislike?"
"One cannot dislike a man for being a king. Deception and play of power are the nature of the beast"—a dry smile flitted across Charles's features—"so to speak." He eased back in his saddle. "Surely, we must thank Philip for relieving us of the Signes. He is still your friend?"
"Mine perhaps. Not Liliane's. He finds her unwelcome competition for my attention."
Charles stared across the fields. "Then milady has acquired three dangerous enemies in defending you. 'Tis well her cousins are yet in Palestine; they would not like her bearing you an heir. Were they here in France, her life and the child's would be at grave risk."
"The child's perhaps. If Jacques killed Liliane, he would lose all legal claim to this fief. And yet"—Alexandre's gaze followed Charles's—"her new popularity with my men-at-arms may raise his suspicions. If he troubles to find out why she is so beloved, he will soon learn what she was about in Palestine. Then, mon ami, I would not give a copper for her life."
"Sooner or later, you must fight him. Best sooner. Go for his throat the moment he sets foot on French soil."
"And start trouble where Philip sought to avoid it? I might destroy Jacques and Louis, but Philip would show his thanks by making all our lives hell. He might reclaim this demesne." Alexandre's eyes narrowed as he scanned the northern horizon where the Signe fief lay. "I must either produce proof of Jacques's attempts at murder and treason, or provoke him into some new nastiness and catch him at it. The trouble is, provocation could lead to a war between us. My serfs are the ones who would suffer most."
"As the old south wall has been repaired, the serfs can take sanctuary in Castle de Brueil if war breaks out. They might risk their villages being burned if it meant being rid of the Signe threat for good. We can beat Jacques now. We can shelter the serfs and rebuild the villages. We have enough provisions to take care of everyone and resist a siege. I almost wish that he would come back and try something."
"You crave the smell of war?" Alexandre asked quietly.
Charles smiled crookedly. "I know you're sick of fighting. I suppose I would be, too, if I had seen as much as you have. Truly, I look upon a fight with Jacques less as amusement than necessity."
"You may be right, ami, but I will not be the one to start it, even for Liliane. She would be the last one to wish to be the cause of a bloody conflict. I have kept her foiling her cousins secret to hold her safe, but she has suffered enough for her connection with them. She is the lady of my demesne and my heart; I would not have her reviled for God knows how long by those who owe her faith and fealty. She is due all their affection and honor." Alexandre's mouth narrowed into a hard line. "I must catch the Signes in one of their own traps."
* * *
The autumn days passed slowly in a hazy blaze of russet, orange and gold that, made the blue of sea and sky so vivid they seemed to have a life of their own. To enjoy utter peace was an invaluable treasure, and everyone took advantage of it, particularly Alexandre, whose delight at being home was infectious. By the end of October, he had covered every inch of his demesne, and at the end of every day he scribbled lists of projects and improvements. He set workmen to implement his ideas; only in the worst weather were they idle.
One night, Liliane wrapped her arms about his neck and peered over his shoulder as he made ink sketches on parchment. "New catapults? Are you expecting trouble with the Lombards?"
"Trouble is inevitable, but not with the Lombards." He turned his head slightly to kiss her cheek, then pulled her into his lap. "I have had word from Massilia. The Signes have left Palestine. They landed in Massilia yesterday at dawn."
She went white. "So soon? But they were promised to Richard!"
"Richard distrusted them. He thought they might try to assassinate him on behalf of Philip, so he sent them home."
"What shall we do?"
"Charles is convinced that we are strong enough to beat Jacques. He wants a fight."
"But an outright confrontation would be fatal. Even with the mercenaries Charles hired, we are not strong enough to best my uncle after losing twenty men in Palestine; he outarms us and outnumbers us three to one."
"Yes," Alexandre replied quietly. "I fear Charles is weary of minding home fires and would see them turn into a bonfire. He is rarely rash, except on my behalf. Perhaps I should have taken him to Palestine and let him be rid of his restlessness."
"What do you mink we ought to do?"
He stroked her cheek. "I think you ought to keep close to the castle, and I ought to wander abroad."
Her eyes widened in horror. "As bait?"
"It is me they want."
"Alexandre, that is insane!"
"Not if I am exceedingly sane about where I go and when. Not if I have a ten-man escort, plus a secret second escort to follow me within hailing distance. Not"—he smiled faintly—"if I make no secret of my movements."
Liliane was silent for a long moment. "You mean to provoke Jacques into making the first move so you can report it to Philip." She caught his hand. "Alexandre, that is too dangerous. You could easily be killed! If you are, Jacques will see that our child does not survive you. We must think of some other way. When I first came here, I thought of a diversion that I had no chance to use because of Philip's summons to the crusade. It might be a possibility now."
She told him of her plan to propose to Jacques that he dress his troops as Italian mercenaries, so that blame for an attack might not be laid at his door. "The difficulty is that he may not confide to me when he will attack. I must try to name an expedient time to him so you can arrange an ambush. Signe bodies in Italia
n garb should smell fishy enough to Philip."
Alexandre smiled at her quizzically. "I am glad you are on my side, my love. You are a very clever woman."
"Will you consider it?"
"I cannot permit your being the liaison, Liliane. Jacques will not ride in the attack. Like a spider, he will wait in his lair and later try to figure out what went wrong with his plans. Then, coming to the logical conclusion, he will try for you." He cut off her protest with an adroit kiss. "I shall consider your plan, darling, but I will not risk your beautiful neck." He nipped her lightly. " 'Tis much too delicious."
Catching Liliane up and carrying her to the bed, he missed the troubled distraction in her eyes.
That night after she and Alexandre had made love, Liliane lay long awake. She was deeply distraught, for the Signes' return presented her with an old dilemma. She had vowed to cease interfering with Alexandre's affairs, as her last efforts had proven both dangerous to their marriage and his life . . . but now she had to do something.
Alexandre knew as well as she did that his plan to bait Jacques was precarious. At best, he might get Louis, but not Jacques, which would provoke an attack. If they did attack, Philip could not be counted upon to intervene. Alexandre was endangering himself to keep from endangering her. He must also know she was the logical liaison with Jacques; within reason, Jacques would trust her if he had not learned of her thwarting him in Palestine. He would contact her, either to use her or destroy her. To draw enough of Jacques's forces into play to severely damage him, she, not Alexandre, must be the bait.
The next morning, Liliane rode alone to the message oak and sent Kiki up to fetch the tube; it was still there, empty. She left a brief note. A week later, her note was untouched, so she left it there. A second week passed and the note was still in the tube. Was Jacques merely occupied with the general business of homecoming, or had he found out about her? Was he planning something? Uneasily, Liliane rode home, and day by day, her tension grew. Alexandre was venturing near the Signe border with his men; soon she knew he might risk outright provocation.
A Flame Run Wild Page 37
