Claire Delacroix (18 page)

’Twas not.

But there is much they did not know:

It casts a shadow on my brow.

Three barons there were gathered there,

For Tristran’s deed, they did not care.

Their hearts were darkened by envy,

’Twas vengeance soon that they would seek.

They had granted King Mark labor,

But they would not share his favor.

They plotted against brave Tristran,

Even as they praised that bold man.

Worse, Morholt fled across the sea,

To have his wound tended by his niece:

A maiden fair, noble and true,

Iseut of beauty and virtue.

She found a shard of Tristran’s blade,

In her uncle’s wound and she said,

That she would ensure vengeance paid,

By he who the shard fit his blade.

Oh! A beauteous heroine who inadvertently pledged vengeance upon the noble hero. This was the root of a marvelous tale and could only lead to daunting feats! Esmeraude gripped her hands together tightly and waited with much anxiety, but Bayard halted his song.

She was certain he merely caught his breath, but her impatience grew with every passing moment. She waited and waited, but he sang no more. There was naught but silence from the other side of the wall.

She could not even hear Bayard breathing. He did not appear to move.

Surely he had not fallen asleep, right in the midst of such a story? Had he abandoned his tale, with so much of it unsung?

Esmeraude waited impatiently. Did he sing more softly than before, so softly that she could not hear him from this place?

Esmeraude crept closer, then paused. She strained her ears, but heard not a whisper.

Had he been struck dead? He was uncommonly still and Esmeraude was suddenly concerned. She could not imagine why else he would halt his singing so suddenly.

She should ensure his welfare. Why, regardless of her refusal of his suit, there was no one else to offer aid, if he truly had need of it. Jacqueline’s father had choked upon a chicken bone, Esmeraude recalled, because no one had come to his aid soon enough.

Though Bayard did not look to be choking. No doubt he had merely fallen asleep, but Esmeraude had to be certain. She crawled forward as quietly as she could, not wanting to awaken him if he did sleep, and her heart pounded so loudly that she was certain its sound would awaken him. She paused on the other side of the tree upon which he leaned, listened, then took a deep breath and slipped around it.

Then surprise stole Esmeraude’s breath away.

Bayard grinned at her, his eyes twinkling merrily. ’Twas clear he had known of her presence and had awaited her appearance. He had shed his armor, for he wore dark chausses and a dark tabard over a white chemise that fairly glowed in the moonlight.

“So ’tis true after all that you cannot resist a tale,” he mused.

Esmeraude was embarrassed that she had fallen for his ruse so readily and thus was outraged at him for playing it upon her. “You tricked me!”

“Nay, I merely feared you had been lulled to sleep.” The glint in his eye made her doubt any such thing.

“You tricked me apurpose” Esmeraude huffed. “You would mock my affection for tales of daring deeds.”

“Nay, I simply did not wish to waste my efforts.” Bayard coughed delicately, though his eyes still shone with devilry. “A voice, like a fine instrument, needs to be treated with care.”

“You mean only to tease me.”

He moved quickly and caught her shoulders in his hands. Their eyes were almost at a level and Esmeraude caught her breath when he brought his face close to her own. His grip was firm but gentle. The moonlight made him look dashing and wicked and Esmeraude’s heart leapt painfully that she was in his presence yet again.

’Twould have been far simpler to spurn him if he had not been such a handsome man.

Nay, ’twould have been far simpler if he had not known he was such a handsome man. It irked Esmeraude beyond all else that she was susceptible in such a predictable way, and she hoped she could hide her response from him.

Those blue eyes shone though, as if they saw her every secret.

“You liked it well enough when I teased you afore,” Bayard murmured.

Esmeraude’s face heated with a blush, but she held his gaze defiantly. “Aye, but that time, you did not fail to satisfy.”

He chuckled, lifting one hand to snare a tendril of her loose hair. He wound it around his fingertip, holding her gaze all the while. “And what makes you assume that I shall not do so this time?”

’Twas only with greatest difficulty that Esmeraude feigned indifference. “You shall not touch me again,” she insisted. “I have spurned your suit and there is naught to be gained by continuing to court me.” She pulled back, as if to retreat into the woods, but he held fast to her hair.

Bayard studied her, his thumb caressing the hair wound ’round his fingertip. When he spoke, his tone was thoughtful. “Most women who granted their favor to a man would be vexed if he did not pledge to wed them afterward.”

“I am not most women.”

His smile turned rueful. “Aye, I have discerned this already.” He gave her curl a tug, and she found herself leaning closer. “Perhaps I should give you some advice,” he whispered, his eyes dancing. “If you wish a man to forget you, then you should not behave in such an inexplicable and fascinating way. I am not alone in enjoying the challenge of a puzzle.”

’Twas difficult to argue with him, for had she not deliberately presented a puzzle to her suitors, and that for much the same reason? “But I do not wish you to be challenged,” she said and his merriment disappeared.

“Whyever not?” he demanded, and Esmeraude could see that he was insulted. He frowned at her. “Which of the others has your preference?”

“Well, none of them,” she admitted too quickly. Bayard’s smile flashed and she was hasty to amend her confession. “Only because I have not spoken with any of them as yet. You may be certain that I will find the right man for me.”

But his smile only widened. “Perhaps you have found him already.”

“I think not.”

“Why?”

Surely it could hurt naught to tell him? ’Twas an excuse and Esmeraude knew it. Truly though, being alone in the woods had little to recommend it when contrasted with a conversation with Bayard.

In the shadows of the night, when none knew they were together. Esmeraude shivered, knowing that she would prefer a deed more forbidden and adventurous than a mere night’s slumber.

Had she not made the same choice the night before?

But this was good sense. Perhaps talking to him would make his unsuitability clear. ’Twas evident that they had wasted little time upon conversation the night before and truly, lust made a poor match.

And he was wondrously warm, as well. She shivered and found herself leaning against his heat before she could stop herself.

She also found herself telling him more than was her original intent. “I will not wed you because you wish to wed me solely to win Ceinn-beithe,” she confessed. “’Tis insulting to be desired for one’s dowry alone and I would have more from the man I would wed. A dowry is meant to bless the match already desired, not to be the sole reason for it.”

Bayard frowned. “But I have no desire for Ceinn-beithe.”

“But you said...”

He interrupted her with a dismissive wave. “To be sure, ’tis a fine holding and if it becomes my responsibility as a result of wedding you, then I shall do my best to administer it well, but Ceinn-beithe is
not
the reason I pursue you.” He spoke with such vigor that she did not doubt ’twas the truth.

Though still, this did not agree with what he said earlier. “But you spoke of a holding....”

Something flashed in his eyes, then Bayard looked as resolute and trustworthy as the moment before. And he spoke with uncommon conviction. “Aye, my holding, which I will administer with a bride by my side.” He smiled as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Is it not natural for a man to wish for a wife and sons when he takes his hereditary holding in hand? I wish only for a fine lady to share my good fortune.”

Esmeraude stared at him, amazed that she could have so mistaken his meaning. Her heart began to pound with such vigor that she could barely catch her breath. If Bayard did not wish to wed her for Ceinn-beithe, then he was not the man she had feared he was.

“What is your name fully?” she asked.

He smiled. “Bayard de Villonne - knight, crusade, and champion - at your service, my lady fair.”

He kissed the side of her neck and Esmeraude closed her eyes as she sighed with delight. Bayard was Burke’s son, and clearly had inherited his father’s determination to wed the woman he chose.

Which forced her to reconsider Célie’s insistence upon this match. Bayard treated her with such gallantry; he recounted tales for her pleasure; he insisted upon ensuring her welfare in a most wondrously protective way. He was alluring and charming. Indeed, he possessed every trait which she had insisted she would have in a spouse, save that he believed he had need of a bride.

Since Esmeraude wanted a man like this knight as her spouse, she supposed ’twas a deficiency she could overlook.

Aye, ’twould be simple to lose her heart to this man.

Perhaps she was already beginning to do so. And surely, he only courted her favor with such diligence because he was smitten with her, as well? Perhaps ’twas naught but male pride that prompted him to deride the promise of love in front of his squires.

“And you would have me be that bride?” Esmeraude asked.

Bayard chuckled and she warmed to her toes. “Aye, you, Esmeraude. You are my betrothed and you will be my lady wife.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then rose to lead his errant palfrey to the other horses.

He was gentle, and kind with his horses. Esmeraude liked that. She watched him move with easy grace and her heart thumped. Even if he did not believe in the merits of love, perhaps she could change his thinking.

He had, after all, pursued her. ’Twould seem the winning of her was more important to him than he would readily admit. And he did not seek her dowry, so what other reason might there be? ’Twas small encouragement, but ’twas all Esmeraude needed to convince her that she alone held the key to winning Bayard’s heart.

Bayard rubbed the steed’s ears and spoke to it, urging it to some feed, then brushed off his hands. He retrieved his cloak and returned to Esmeraude, his eyes gleaming.

“I had thought the best man for me would be one not even seeking a bride,” she said.

Bayard’s expression turned skeptical as he shook out his fur-lined cloak. “You seek a man already wed then?”

Esmeraude laughed. “Nay, but I desire a man who is not intent upon having a bride as one has other possessions.”

His smile made her tingle. “What of a man who sought a bride for the sake of necessity and tradition, but found a treasure instead?” Bayard wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, so that it swirled with a fine flourish. He then squatted down before her, his eyes bright.

“A treasure?”

“A lady of more wit and passion than anticipated, and a beauty as well.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm, his touch making Esmeraude’s pulse race. “A treasure most rare and one to be prized above all else. Not all wonders are found when they are sought. Indeed, I have heard it said that the marvels of life cannot be found if actively pursued.”

“You seem determined in your suit,” Esmeraude said coyly, hoping for a sweet confession to make this moment perfect.

Bayard leaned yet closer, the moonlight glinting upon his hair. His thumb ran across her knuckles in a caress that made her mouth go dry. “Much has passed between us, Esmeraude, and a man of honor must do what is right by his lady fair. Though you left me, I knew ’twas due to a misunderstanding.”

“You knew I followed you,” Esmeraude guessed.

Bayard’s smile broadened. “A man with less training would never have heard your pursuit.” He kissed her palm. “You are most clever, my lady.”

Esmeraude’s pulse echoed in her throat. Oh, she had made a fine choice.

“’Tis true that I coaxed you closer apurpose.” Bayard regarded her warmly. “I heard that you had much affection for a tale, and it seemed a fitting way to see to your safety this night. ’Tis not fitting, Esmeraude, that even a lady upon an adventure should sleep alone and unprotected in the wilderness. As my intended, you are my responsibility and I would ensure your welfare for all our days and nights together.”

Esmeraude could think of naught to say to that. Indeed, she quite liked his protectiveness.

Bayard smiled and offered his hand. “Come hither, my Esmeraude,” he murmured, heat in his words. “And reward your faithful courtier with a kiss.”

Esmeraude could think of no finer way to seal their pledge. She moved into his embrace and touched her lips to Bayard’s, loving how possessively his mouth closed over her own. He drew them to their feet without breaking his kiss, then wrapped his cloak securely around her.