Caparisons.
Gold with a black insignia. How Quinn wished he recognized it.
He was considering the merit of raising his voice and greeting the other rider, when he heard galloping hoof beats from the path. He straightened and saw the flicker of the other horse moving through the undergrowth. The horse cantered and then galloped, but the arriving horse was turned in its course. Quinn quietly followed the sound of hoof beats.
“Arnaud!” Melissande cried and Quinn’s heart stopped cold. He did not move. “Arnaud de Privas! I thought those were your colors!” Her tone was charming and light, as if she welcomed a guest to Annossy. He must hear this conversation.
He found his lady upon her palfrey in a stream, facing a knight on a dapple destrier with golden caparisons. Her palfrey stepped with agitation, as if disliking that they stood in the flow of water. Quinn wondered if it was aware of its rider’s mood. Melissande rode the same palfrey often and though she smiled, he sensed a tension in her.
Because she feared discovery?
Or because she feared Arnaud? Quinn dismounted, left Fortitude, and eased closer. He circled around the pair to a better vantage point, glad of the sound of the water. He halted where he had a clear view of Arnaud.
He loaded a bolt into his crossbow, more than prepared to use it. He must strike Arnaud in the throat to ensure the blow was fatal, for the other knight wore his armor. Indeed, Arnaud had not even abandoned his helmet, which was vexing. It was a narrow target and Quinn could have done without the undergrowth in between them. He would have one shot and he would make it count.
He tried to ease closer in silence and still remain unseen.
“Whatever are you doing here?” Melissande asked lightly.
“And where is here?” her companion replied.
Melissande laughed lightly. “Sayerne, of course.”
“But not so far from Privas, surely?”
“I suppose not, though surely that keep is abandoned.”
“But my family legacy, all the same. I ride to hunt but have lost my party.” He gave a little laugh. “The boar was doughty and I could not resist the chance to take him. I outran my entire party in the pursuit.”
“By considerable distance, it appears,” Melissande said, looking left and right.
“Aye, that it does.”
“And yet, you have no boar,” she noted.
“Alas, he escaped. They are most wily when cornered.”
“How strange that I saw you hours ago, this morn, and you were close to this place and alone.”
Arnaud chuckled but Quinn heard his displeasure. “Who can say how long I have wandered?”
“Surely you did not spend the night in the forest?”
“Surely there are matters of greater interest than that,” Arnaud said, his tone steely.
“Surely not,” Melissande said, almost in an undertone, but Arnaud ignored her.
Quinn also found it curious that the other man had been in the forest in the morning. What was his scheme?
And what was Melissande’s?
Arnaud’s voice warmed. “And you look hale, my lady. How many years has it been?”
“At least twenty,” Melissande replied. “I should not have known you but I recognized your colors.”
So, they had not spoken of late. Quinn was reassured.
Unless, of course, this conversation was for his benefit.
“Aye, dear beloved Privas.” Arnaud sighed. “How fares wondrous Annossy?”
“Well enough. I suppose you have heard that I am wed.”
“To the son of Jerome de Sayerne.” Arnaud clicked his tongue. “A sad waste indeed.”
Melissande said naught at all.
“That is, of course, why I sought you out,” Arnaud continued.
“Here at Sayerne, but not at Annossy? How enterprising of you to surmise my location.”
Arnaud laughed.
Quinn was glad that Melissande did not.
“I have a proposition for you, Melissande.”
“I imagine that you do.”
“You do not look surprised.”
“I think I know your wager.”
“Then tell me of it and I shall tell you if you are right.”
“I think you mean to ensure the demise of my lord husband and thence to force me to become your wife.”
“Melissande! Surely you do not have to be compelled to keep your sworn word?” Arnaud’s tone was silky. “We were betrothed by our fathers’ choice.”
“And I was wed to Quinn by Tulley’s command. I carry his child. Tulley will not tolerate your interference in this matter, nor will he entrust you with Annossy and Privas, as well. He distrusts you, Arnaud, and I am persuaded to take his view.”
“You carry your husband’s child?” Arnaud repeated.
“Aye.” Melissande sat proudly and Quinn’s heart swelled at the sight of her.
“Even better,” Arnaud whispered. “Tulley will not be able to deny me Sayerne.” He moved with lightning speed, drawing his sword and slashing at Melissande’s palfrey. The horse, perhaps with Melissande’s urging, retreated quickly, but stumbled on the rocks in the river bed. It fell and Melissande fell from the saddle, catching herself on the low branches of an overhanging tree. Arnaud slashed at the horse again and the palfrey ran, its reins trailing in the river.
Melissande was knee-deep in the water, watching Arnaud warily as her breath came quickly. Curse the woman, she was standing between Quinn and his target, ensuring that his shot was not clear.
“Join me,” Arnaud invited, his sword pointed now at her.
“Never,” she said with welcome heat. “Your scheme has failed, Arnaud. Quinn saw the truth of Gaultier’s deception, but I am the one who guessed that your true target was my lord husband. I will never aid you in attacking Quinn.” Now Melissande’s tone was hard.
“How sad that you make this choice,” he murmured.
“Just as you make yours. Recall your knightly vows, Arnaud, and lower your blade.”
“And is it a choice when a man must act against his own desire to survive?” Arnaud asked.
“You survived well enough.”
“Survived?” Arnaud cried. “After Tulley seized Privas, I starved. After Tulley took every denier of my legacy, I had naught, not even a steed. I would have died if I had not had my wits. Even then, he spread poisonous lies about my nature, spilling them into every listening ear. I had to go far, nigh all the way to Paris, then come back slowly and with stealth.”
“You did not have to come back at all.”
“Privas is my legacy.”
“Not when Tulley holds the seal.”
“And I will hold it again,” Arnaud snarled.
“Marie de Perricault was useful, then.”
“She was rich and had a title.” His tone was gloating. “And she admired me greatly, a sign of her exquisite taste.”
“Sadly, she was wedded.”
He smiled. “Not for long.”
“I thought she had another suitor, Gaultier de Lonvaux.”
“He was too young to appreciate her advantages. I lured him away from her with tales of Annossy and your beauty, my Melissande.”
“Mine!”
Arnaud winced. “Marie, sad as it may be, was no beauty, although she had her passions.”
“You speak of your lady wife as if she is no longer of this world.”
Quinn could not believe that Melissande was speaking at such length with this villain—and then he realized that she must know of his presence. She must be ensuring that he learned the full extent of Arnaud’s crimes.
She must guess that he would strike, and she wanted Quinn to have no doubts.
Zounds, but his lady wife knew him well.
“She might not be,” Arnaud said. “I will be a widower before the sun sets this day. I might be one already.”
“I do not understand.”
“Marie was very fond of her wine. When I left Perricault three days ago,
I left an allotment for her from my personal store. Quite special wine. You will appreciate that when I tell you it is from Annossy. I opened it to ensure its quality for my lady wife, then added an herbal augmentation for her pleasure.”
“Poison,” Melissande whispered. “Is that how her husband died?”
Arnaud laughed. “His time had come, unfortunately.”
“But surely a physician will treat her?”
“Ah.” Arnaud shook his head. “Tragically, the physician has gone to Lyons to acquire supplies and will not return for a fortnight. No one will remember that I suggested it would be a good time for him to go.” He shrugged. “No one recalled that I made the suggestion he make a similar journey just before Marie’s husband met his end.”
“But twice in succession,” Melissande said. “Surely, someone will suspect foul play?”
“Marie always has a sour stomach. It is likely a result of her continuous overindulgence. Even if there is suspicion, I am far away at hunt.”
“You do not hunt boar,” Melissande accused.
Arnaud chuckled. “Nay, I do not.”
He leaned forward, eyes shining. “Take my wager, Melissande, for then you will live to see the morrow.”
“Never!” she spat and ducked.
Quinn did not hesitate. He loosed the bolt.
And he was glad when it sank home.
One moment, Arnaud was taunting her.
The next, something whistled over her head, Arnaud’s sword fell into the river and he made a gurgling sound. Melissande straightened to see a crossbow bolt in his throat and his blood flowing. He looked suitably horrified and reached for the shaft of the bolt but she knew he would never dislodge it. She retreated with haste.
Quinn came charging through the undergrowth behind her, seized Arnaud from his saddle and hauled him down to the river. Arnaud fought him, but so ineffectually that he might have been wrought of straw. Quinn pulled his dagger and buried it in Arnaud’s chest.
“Cut out his filthy black heart,” Melissande said with fervor. She held on to the destrier’s reins with trembling hands.
Arnaud glared at Quinn through half-closed eyes. “Curse you,” he whispered, and the blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “Without you, four estates would have been mine, if not more.”
Quinn grimaced. “Without your own cursed greed, you would have had the finest bride in Christendom and that should have been more than sufficient for any man.”
Arnaud gave a long low moan and his breathing halted. Quinn pulled out his knife and let the other man fall into the water. He shook his head and stepped away, then turned to study Melissande.
“I saw him. I feared he meant to kill you,” she said when he did not speak. “I could not let that happen.
Quinn nodded ruefully. “And so you prove to me that I should not have withheld my trust. I think, my lady, that we are better allied than at odds.”
She smiled, for their thoughts were as one. “Aye, Quinn, that we are.”
“A veritable force to be reckoned with,” he said, giving her that seductive slow smile. Melissande could not look away. He held out his hand to her and she seized it, so grateful for his constancy and strength. She clung to his fingers and Quinn must have felt her tremble. He swept off his cloak and wrapped it securely about her shoulders, then lifted her into his arms. “Are you hurt?”
“Cold and wet. No worse than that.”
“And I shall see both resolved with all haste.” Quinn carried her to Fortitude, then led the destrier back to the path. He found Niall and the boys there and sent them to load Arnaud’s corpse onto his horse.
They returned to Sayerne in quiet triumph, a slow but successful procession, with rather more kill than had been expected. Niall had also taken a stag in addition to the one Quinn had felled, and between him and the boys, they had dozens of hares, pheasants and even a brace of eggs. The sun was setting when they approached the gates and Bayard led a party out to aid them.
Quinn carried Melissande to the solar where Berthe helped her to change to dry garb, and he himself was glad of a wash and a change. By the time he led her to the hall, he could smell roasted meat and hot soup. Tulley was at the board, with Heloise by his left hand, and had been apprised of the entire tale by Niall. The older man was nodding with satisfaction.
Quinn could not help but notice that Heloise was gazing at Niall with adoration.
He winced when he noted that Niall bowed and smiled at her.
“And so our champion returns in triumph!” Tulley said, standing to applaud Quinn. “Not only have you routed the brigands from Annossy’s borders, and begun to rebuild Sayerne, but you have dispatched this villain.” He seized his cup and held it high.
Michel hastened to bring a cup of ale to Quinn and another to Melissande. He felt a surge of heat when she smiled at him, her magnificent eyes filled with pride.
“All hail, Quinn de Sayerne, Lord d’Annossy,” Tulley said, then chuckled before he continued. He lifted his cup a little higher. “And Lord de Sayerne.”
Melissande lifted her glass to Quinn. “All hail,” she said and sipped of it.
Quinn nearly choked. “But I am not Lord de Sayerne,” he whispered to Melissande.
The lady’s smile did not waver. Indeed, she looked most pleased with herself.
“Indeed, Quinn, you speak aright,” Tulley said. He cleared his throat and removed a familiar item from his purse. “Your lady wife made a most ardent and persuasive argument on your behalf this day while you were at hunt. Indeed, if I did not already agree with her assessment of your abilities, I might have been insulted.”
The company laughed lightly, though Quinn doubted it was a jest.
“As it stands, however, I do agree.” Tulley waved the seal. “Come here, Quinn, bend your knee and be endowed with your legacy and your heart’s desire.”
He still could not believe it, but Melissande squeezed his hand. “Go,” she whispered. “Lest he change his mind.”
They shared a smile before Quinn bowed before Tulley. Tears pricked at his eyes when the weight of the seal was in his hand, and he could scarce catch his breath. He felt as if his mother was watching him with pride, and that was potent, indeed. Then he turned to offer his hand to Melissande who crossed to his side with a smile that filled him with mingled pride and desire. He knew then that his wife possessed an even more potent sorcery, and his heart swelled with joy as he kissed her hand before the company.
“If only Rolfe were here,” Thierry said. “Our company would be completely assembled in Tulley.”
“Rolfe?” Tulley himself said. “Rolfe de Viandin?”
“Aye, the last of our comrades,” Quinn confirmed.
“Of course, he is not here. He is Lord de Viandin and has returned home with his mother and his bride to administer his holding,” Tulley huffed. “I saw them wed myself at Beauvoir at the Yule.”
“You might say the match was of your doing, Uncle,” Heloise contributed.
“It was the match I made, but not when I made it,” Tulley complained. He shook his finger at Heloise. “And there is the evidence that people, particularly unwed people, should do as they are bidden from the outset.”
Heloise eyed Niall and sighed. “Aye, Uncle.”
“I do not understand,” Quinn said.
“I matched them,” Tulley admitted. “But Annelise would not wed a man she had not met, even though he was a knight. Truly, Quinn, your sister did not inherit your mother’s obedient nature...”
“Praise be to God for that,” Melissande murmured.
“Annelise?” Quinn repeated, unable to contain his incredulous response. “My sister, Annelise, is wedded to Rolfe de Viandin?”
“Aye,” Tulley said easily. “First she intended to return to the convent and Yves was to escort her there before riding to Paris, but evidently, meeting Rolfe aided her in seeing the merit of my scheme.”
“My sister is wedded to Rolfe?” Quinn repeated, his voice rising.
“You know him?” Melissande whispered.
“As the greatest rogue of all,” he replied. “Your maid would not know where to begin, were she to chastise him.”
“Oh!” Melissande replied.
“We should all have the good fortune to be rogues like Rolfe but well-wedded in the end, all the same,” Niall said with merriment. He began to laugh, and his other companions soon followed.
Tulley looked between them all without comprehension. “It is a good match,” he said, his tone insulted. “And I believe she is with child already.”
Melissande leaned on Quinn’s side and gave him a warning glance. Aye, it would not do to insult Tulley in this moment. Quinn bowed. “I thank you, sir, for ensuring my sister’s welfare.”
“I was most glad to do it,” Tulley said.
“And I will kill Rolfe myself if he serves her poorly,” Quinn growled, much to the amusement of his fellow knights.
“Oh, he will not,” Tulley said. “His mother is most fierce in ensuring that women are treated with dignity.”
“And what of my brother, Yves?” Quinn asked. “Do you know his location?”
“Nay. He intended to return to the tourneys near Paris. I have no doubt he will fare well and gain the attention of a pretty heiress.” Tulley did not appear to be concerned, though Quinn had a hundred questions about his younger brother. The older lord sniffed the air with appreciation. “Is that the soup at last?”
There was naught more tragic, in Berthe’s view, than catching the eye of a man of merit then losing it again. Since Bayard had given her the vial of perfume, she had been unable to think of any man other than him. If the scent within it was possessed of power, though, it was fickle. For Bayard appeared to have no further interest in her—indeed, he had scarce spoken to her since that evening—while his companion, Niall MacGillivray, could not be avoided. He taunted her in the kitchens, when she was en route to serve her lady, when she passed through the hall and when she was in the gardens. Each time she turned around, there was Sir Niall, always ready with a compliment or a pretty word, not a one of them worth the trouble of listening.
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 32
