“Aye,” Melissande agreed. “It is perfectly legal for any lord to invite those pledged to his hand to move to another of his holdings. In this, I believe my lord husband fulfills the hopes and dreams of many who fled Sayerne in the past.”
“You cannot concur with him!” Gaultier said.
Melissande nodded. “But I do. They were offered shelter and have prospered here, but I know how a place can hold fast to one’s heart.”
“I still believe, my lady, that your lord husband should have asked your approval before he spoke.”
Melissande took a breath, knowing that she had to prove to Quinn and all those who listened that she accepted his authority. “My husband is Lord d’Annossy. He holds the seal. He wears my father’s garments. My approval is not required when he acts within the law.”
The air fairly crackled between the three of them, then Quinn spoke with his usual calm. “I would ask my lady’s counsel in one matter,” he said and she looked at him. His gaze was hard, and locked upon Gaultier. “What fate would you decree for a man who gained a post in your service because he lied?”
“What is this?” Melissande asked. She looked at Gaultier, for Quinn was studying him, and found his expression furious.
“Lord de Tulley did not dispatch Gaultier de Lonvaux to Annossy, nor did he recommend that this man become Annossy’s Captain of Arms.”
“That is not true!” Gaultier said.
“The sole tale that Lord de Tulley knows of Gaultier is a rumor of his unnatural relations with his aunt after the demise of the uncle who trained him for his spurs. It seemed the knight had hopes of a fortuitous marriage, which were shattered when the aunt wed another. Oddly enough, that occurred just before Gaultier appeared at Annossy’s gates.”
Gaultier’s eyes flashed. “You know naught of it,” he spat at Quinn.
“I know sufficient to dismiss you from the service of this holding,” Quinn replied with resolve and his voice rose as he made his pronouncement. “You will take your possessions. You will leave in this moment. And you will take the men-at-arms you hired to defend the mill with you. Your shadow is cast over all of them, and none of you will ever enter these gates again.”
“You cannot do this to me!” Gaultier cried.
“I most certainly can,” Quinn replied.
“My lady!” Gaultier appealed to her.
“I am no longer your lady,” she said, her hand upon Quinn’s. “You should never have deceived me, Gaultier.”
“I have served you!” he roared. “I have defended you! I have earned more of a hearing than this!”
“There is another choice,” Quinn said mildly. “You may prefer to be charged with treason, confined in Annossy’s dungeon and heard when next we hold court. When will that be, my lady?”
“On the day after full moon. Three weeks hence.”
“I am a knight,” Gaultier fumed. “I am a man of honor and I shall not be treated with such indignity...”
“You are a liar,” Quinn said. “And the opportunity to depart with your steed and weapons is far more than you deserve.”
Gaultier clearly saw the merit of this argument. He spun and marched to the stables, only to discover that the ostler met him there with his stabled horse. The villagers watched in silence as he mounted, glared at Quinn, then rode out the gates with the men-at-arms behind.
“You have made an enemy this day, my lord,” Melissande said, unable to silence her feeling of dread.
“Nay. I already had an enemy, and I would rather he was outside the walls than within my own hall.”
There was, Melissande had to admit, good sense in that, though still she was uneasy.
Fourteen
Quinn felt as if he had won a great victory. It had been bold to issue his invitation to the villeins without discussing the matter with Melissande first, but he had not thought it through. The moment had seemed ripe and he had followed his impulse. He was glad she had neither rebuked nor challenged him, but he knew all was not yet resolved.
The storm might come in private.
Or not at all.
One thing he admired most about his wife was that she was clever. She knew of things he did not, and so he could not always anticipate her. She had a keen sense of justice, though, and he liked that she was not weak or fearful. She was a beauty, like his mother, but she did not possess his mother’s frailty and Quinn was glad of that.
He was glad to be wed to a woman who would tell him if he was wrong.
He was determined never again to fail a woman who relied upon him, as he had failed his mother.
Trusting his wife completely was another matter, though. Did Melissande still possess Gaultier’s dagger? What was between them? How could he discover that truth?
“You will be most relieved,” Quinn said to her as they crossed the hall. “Lord de Tulley confirms that your betrothed wed another before we exchanged our vows.”
Melissande frowned. “He told me as much, but I find myself skeptical.”
Quinn arched a brow. “Indeed?”
“Do you not think Tulley would say whatever was necessary to win his desire?”
“Nay, I do not.” He halted beside her and met her gaze. It was time to dismiss her concerns about her betrothal once and for all. “He is tough but honorable and not deceptive. You must accept, my lady, that your betrothed wed another. It is our future that is of import.”
She studied him warily. “And your need for a son.”
“We have need of a son,” he reminded her.
“Sayerne’s seal hangs in the balance, and I have no desire for it. You desire a son, sir.”
Her emphasis made Quinn wonder. “And what do you desire?”
She met his gaze. “My desire is of no import, as we have seen already this day.”
Ah, she was annoyed. “Your desire is of import to me.”
“Indeed?” she said mildly, a thrum of anger beneath her words.
“Indeed.” He put his hand beneath her elbow and guided her to the stairs.
“Your desire is pressing?” she asked.
“I would speak to you in private,” Quinn said. “That you might share the truth of your thoughts.”
She exhaled and shook her head, even as she accompanied him to the stairs. “You challenge my every expectation.”
“As you defy mine. Is that not a good omen for our match?”
Melissande pivoted to face him. She was two steps above him and their gazes were level. “On the contrary, I think it a sign that we are poorly matched.”
“I think otherwise. What drudgery it would be to find oneself wed to a person who offered neither surprise nor challenge. A lifetime together would feel like an eternity.”
She eyed him. “I thought you wished a compliant wife.”
“So did I,” Quinn confessed, noting how she seemed puzzled by his smile. “Until I was wedded to you, my lady.”
Melissande’s eyes lit with humor for a heartbeat, then she spun away. “You attempt to charm me, sir,” she said as she marched up the stairs.
“That cannot be. I have been informed by a most reliable source that I am utterly devoid of charm.”
She pivoted, glared at him, then continued up the stairs.
“What ails you?” she demanded as she entered the solar, spinning to face him. “Why are you so calm yet persistent on this day?”
Quinn shut the door and leaned back against it. “Because I am home, and I am glad of it. Because I am wedded and I am grateful for it.” He pointed to the floor. “Because this is where we will build our future, Melissande, and I intend to do whatever is necessary to see that done.”
“You dismiss my Captain of Arms,” she said, flinging out a hand. “And I am to smile sweetly. You invite my villeins to abandon Annossy and I am to nod approval. You fill my hall with your comrades of war and I am to both welcome them and see them fed. You scheme with Tulley to rebuild Sayerne at his expense—”
“I thought you would be pleased by
that,” Quinn interjected. “I should never have thought to negotiate with him, had I not learned so much already from you.”
Again, he was granted a hot look for that comment. “And now you will plant your seed. What happens once you have your son?” She flung out her hands. “What happens to me once I have fulfilled that obligation? What happens to Annossy when you cast it aside for Sayerne? How long is this match of convenience to endure?”
“You wish to wed another.”
“I wish to choose my future, not to be told how it will be!”
Quinn saw the fear flash in her eyes and guessed the truth. “You fear I will abandon you.”
“I fear that I am useful, no more and no less, and that once my purpose is fulfilled, I may no longer be so. It is not the same for women, my lord. If I am cast aside by my husband after bearing him a son, then I will be a widow of no import. You already possess Annossy. Do not take my dignity and my future, as well.” She straightened and held his gaze. “Tell me the worst of it, my lord. Tell me your plan.”
It was infuriating that she always saw the worst possibility, and blamed him for it. Quinn strove to control his temper. “I am not my father,” he said with force and Melissande lifted her chin. “I have done naught to earn your distrust. I have asked for your counsel. I have heeded your advice. I have defended your family holding as if it were my own.”
“It is your own!” she cried.
“Just as you are my wife!” he roared. “That makes you Lady d’Annossy. We are bound together, Melissande, by our own pledges. I would have an honest and loving marriage of merit, but I cannot compel you to trust me. Indeed, I cannot win your trust, either, no matter what I do and how I defend your interests. It seems that you withhold it apurpose.”
“There is naught else I can withhold,” she countered with some bitterness, and he turned to face her.
“You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” she snapped, but her tone revealed the truth. Was it possible that she held him in some affection? Did she argue with such heat because she came to care for him? Quinn knew that he himself was utterly smitten, but he had learned to be wary of Melissande’s quick wits. He would not hasten to claim any victory, but would proceed with caution, and let the lady come to him.
“What will you do when you have your son?” she demanded again.
Quinn held his ground, his mood much improved by his sense of the possibilities. “I will do what my lady wife commands. If she wishes to truly put her hand in mine and labor for a better future, then I will welcome her wisdom and her skills. But if she wishes to remain alone at Annossy, I will leave her.”
“You will take another woman to your bed,” she accused and his temper flared again.
“You cannot have the matter every which way!” Quinn roared. “You can be my wife in truth, or you can push me aside. I will honor your wish in this, but I will not sacrifice every advantage I hold to see you secure at Annossy without me. You cannot cast me aside yet decide who comes to my bed. We are wed, Melissande, and if you desire a match of merit, you must meet me halfway.”
She folded her arms across her chest yet looked less formidable. “I did not wish to argue with you.”
Quinn was relieved that she saw the sense of his appeal. “There would be a change,” he dared to tease her and was rewarded with a fleeting smile.
“Let us begin this discussion again,” Melissande said, her tone softer. “I owe you an apology, and I was disappointed that you had departed yesterday morn, for I could not surrender it to you.”
“An apology?”
“I was too harsh. I said too much about the reputation of Annossy.” Melissande flushed and dropped her gaze. A note of confusion claimed her voice and dismissed every bit of Quinn’s vexation. She so seldom allowed him to glimpse her vulnerability and it affected him powerfully. If she could have guessed that he was hers to command for the price of a single tear, he did not doubt she would have been more prepared to share her true feelings with him.
That did not mean, however, that he could make such a sweet confession.
Now, she paced, her brows drawn together in annoyance. “I cannot fathom why you make me so angry, or why I lose my composure in your presence. It frightens me to so lose control of my own tongue. I feel uncertain of what will happen when we argue, and that troubles me.” She fell silent then, and her color rose even more as she stole a glance at him.
Quinn could not help but chuckle in his relief. “We have this in common, my lady,” he murmured. “I am known for my temperance yet you—” He took a breath as she watched, then shook his head. “You, my lady, set my very blood afire.” He wagged a finger at her. “I want to shout with fury when you challenge me. I could shake you to make you see sense.”
“Or your version of it,” she countered, softening her words with a smile.
Quinn smiled, surprised into it. “I could kiss you to silence or seduce you until you have no argument to make.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, and swallowed. “Is it not unnatural?” she whispered.
“I do not care. I think it most excellent. I like that we enflame each other, for it hints that this union is of import to both of us.” He took a step closer and she did not retreat. Nor did she look away. “For when all is said and done, it seems we oft agree.”
“Aye,” she admitted, her gaze clinging to his. “And the simple truth of it is that even though you say I irk you, you have never raised a hand against me. You never have shaken me to see sense, or seduced me to silence me.”
“And I never will.”
Melissande nodded with welcome confidence in that. She swallowed, then impaled him with an intent glance. “Why did you leave Sayerne?”
Quinn was startled by the abrupt question, but knew he had to reply. “Because he beat her,” he said, bowing his head at the ignoble truth of it. His throat tightened at the memory and he hated that he had been not able to defend his own mother. “He struck her until she bled and I could not bear it. I was only a child when I tried to defend her, then he beat me, as well.” He swallowed and looked away from Melissande, glad that she had never known such horror. When he recalled his father’s violence and hatred, he could understand her doubts about his nature.
She laid a hand upon his arm and he laid his hand atop it, grateful for this encouragement. His voice was husky when he continued. “I tried to convince her to flee with me, but she would not leave him. I could not persuade her.”
“You tried, Quinn.”
“It was insufficient. He learned of what he called my treachery. He beat me for it, then cast me out. It was the dead of winter and she cried out, but then she was silenced.” His throat worked and he could not summon any words for a moment, so overcome was he by the awareness of his own weakness.
Melissande stepped closer. “You were only a boy,” she whispered, giving him clemency that he could not give himself.
Quinn fought to compose himself. “I should have frozen to death outside the walls. But Tulley was at hunt and found me. He took me away and sent me to train for my spurs.” He dared to meet Melissande’s gaze. “I thought to learn to fight that I could defend her.”
“But by the time you could do as much, she was dead,” Melissande whispered, her words filled with welcome compassion.
“And Tulley dictated my course. I owe him my life, but I still regret that my mother would not come with me.”
“She died there as a result,” Melissande said. “She died for her loyalty to Jerome.”
Quinn nodded and bowed his head. “I should never have left her.”
“Then you would be dead, as well. Even I know that Jerome did not tolerate defiance.” She leaned against him but he could not look at her. “You are not your father’s son, Quinn, and I am most glad of it. You are a man of honor.” Then to his astonishment, she placed her hand upon his cheek. “I feared you had abandoned me,” she whispered. “I was shaken by how much I missed you. I am most glad of your re
turn.”
Quinn risked a glance at his lady, to find her eyes shining. His heart skipped. “No matter the terms?”
She smiled. “Apparently so.”
Quinn could not summon a word to his lips. Desire raged through him, but he reminded himself of her courses and strove to keep his need in check.
“I watched for the flame at the mill last night, as you could not,” she admitted, remaining close and speaking as if she knew he needed a moment to compose himself.
“Did you?” The confession pleased Quinn greatly, even though he knew that his comrades would have watched as well. He was filled with tension yet unwilling to move lest he frighten Melissande away. He watched her, nigh holding his breath, as she tipped her head back and trailed her fingertips down his cheek to his mouth. Her skin was soft and cool, and he felt like a rough warrior in comparison to her fine beauty.
Melissande was not weak like his mother.
She was a queen, a lady, and his wife.
Quinn would love her until the end of his days, and beyond.
“Come to bed, sir,” she said with new urgency and he feared he had only imagined the words. She smiled at him and his chest squeezed with painful vigor. “We have a son to conceive.”
Quinn grinned at her invitation, catching her in his arms and swinging her around. Melissande protested, but when he set her on her feet, he caught her close and kissed her with abandon. He finally broke their kiss, his arm locked still around her waist, holding her captive against his chest.
“Tell me now if you still have your courses,” he growled and Melissande smiled up at him, her expression so playful that he guessed what she would say before she did.
“I never did,” she admitted. “I was merely vexed with you.”
Quinn laughed again and scooped her into his arms, then stole another kiss. “I will make you a wager, my Melissande,” he said as he carried her toward the bed. “Whenever one of us is vexed with the other, I suggest we spend that passion abed.”
She gasped. “That is a scandalous suggestion, sir.”
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 28
