Claire Delacroix (24 page)

“I would ask a favor of you,” Bayard said softly. At Esmeraude’s enquiring glance, he continued. “I would ask you to not reveal your identity to my cousins and brother.”

Esmeraude smiled. “Do you not trust them, sir? Or is it that you do not trust me?”

Bayard’s eyes narrowed, for she had not addressed him formally of late. Her eyes were wide with an innocence that he had already learned better than to trust. Rather than vexing him though, Esmeraude’s spirit made him long to tame her and his blood quickened with the prospect of how he might do so.

But that would have to wait. “Nay, I do not trust my cousins, not when there is such a prize as your hand involved.”

“Then who shall I be, if not myself?”

“Why not continue your ruse, that of being a simple country maid?”

“The ruse that did not fool you?”

Bayard gritted his teeth. “Aye, ’twill do.”

“Will it? Will they be readily persuaded that you have claimed such a maid to sate your base desires? Is it a habit of yours?”

Bayard had the definite sense that his intended tried to provoke him. He held her gaze until color rose in her cheeks, but she did not look away.

“I do not know what they think of me, for we have seen naught of each other in five years,” he said with a calmness he did not feel. “And I cannot guess what expectation they have of my habits, though ’tis not uncommon for many men to do exactly thus.”

“What of you?”

“I have always enjoyed the company of women.”

Her eyes flashed for but a moment before her expression was demure once more. “Shall I be a whore or an innocent?”

“Esmeraude!”

“I must know how I am to behave,” she said, her tone reasonable though her eyes danced with devilry. “And clearly I must be told by you what to do, as ’tis my
place
. Have I been raped, or seduced? Or did I seduce you? Where did we meet, and when? Truly there are a thousand possibilities, all of which affect...”

“Es-” Bayard began to shout her name in frustration, but bit back upon it in time. The other party was nigh within earshot. He took a deep breath and released it slowly.

“My lady,” he said, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “I ask only that you do not reveal your name. ’Tis a simple request and if you know not what to say, then I suggest you say naught.”

“Aye, I gain the impression that ’twill oft be preferable if I say naught,” Esmeraude retorted. “Particularly naught that challenges what you say.” She smiled sweetly despite the sharpness of her words, as if she would challenge him to argue with her.

And that was enough.

“What ails you?” Bayard demanded. “I ask only that you keep your name to yourself!” He spared a glance to the rapidly approaching party and found his temper coming to a boil at this most inconvenient moment. “We can argue the matter fully soon enough, but for the moment, do I have your agreement?”

Esmeraude smiled and bowed her head, the image of wifely obedience. “Your will is my command, my lord master.”

Aye, she would make some mischief, of that Bayard was certain.

’Twas small consolation that he gained some understanding of this unpredictable temptress. All the same, he wished he had a better idea of what precisely she would do or say to his cousins and brother.

’Twas disconcerting to realize not only how little he knew of this woman he would take to wife, but how greatly she had already challenged his expectations.

He truly did not know what to expect of her. For a man like Bayard, who preferred to hold a situation in the palm of his hand, this was perhaps the most troubling trait his intended could have possessed.

Bayard wished heartily that Dame Fortune would smile upon this exchange, then jumped when he thought he heard a distant echo of feminine laughter. He glanced to the others but they appeared to be oblivious to whatever he had heard.

He truly had need of more sleep. He was dreaming with his eyes open. The winning of this seductress and the press of time had overly strained him. Aye, all would come aright after he and Esmeraude were wed later this day and he slept in his nuptial bed this night.

This time Bayard knew he did not imagine the shout of distant laughter. Indeed, he glanced over his shoulder in search of the sound, but saw naught. Esmeraude gave him a cool smile, as if she knew aught that he did not.

Sleep would heal all of this. Sleep and a quick resolution of his objective.

But first, his cousins and brother had to be dispatched upon their merry way. Bayard closed his eyes briefly and hoped for the best, which did little to ease his concerns.

“Bayard! Surely you do not ride the wrong way,” his brother Amaury teased, his features alight with his smile. He clearly interpreted their halted position as a hint that they rode toward Ceinn-beithe.

“Do I?”

“Perhaps he has not solved the riddle rightly,” Connor suggested.

“Perhaps ’tis you who have solved it wrongly,” Bayard retorted and Nicholas laughed.

“Then pity the lord of Airdfinnan, who is fated to host us all for no reason whatsoever.” They chuckled, the horses milling together, and Bayard felt his brother’s gaze upon him.

He ignored him. “I will not delay your progress, then,” Bayard said smoothly and smiled at the three of them. “For you are no doubt anxious to be upon your way.”

“But who is this lovely maiden?” Nicholas teased, sparing a wink for Esmeraude. The lady smiled, then dropped her gaze flirtatiously.

Incredibly, she held her tongue.

“A local maid,” Bayard said with forced cheer. “She does not understand French.”

“Ah!” Nicholas, undeterred, addressed Esmeraude in some foreign tongue. She laughed, much to Bayard’s horror, and replied merrily, her eyes flashing.

It irked him beyond reason that he could not understand this exchange. ’Twas not that his bride laughed with his cousin when she had shown Bayard no such favor this morn, nay, not that! She could not anger him so readily as that!

’Twould have been illogical. ’Twas the rudeness of their conversing in a language that all present did not understand that was the root of it.

“Perhaps you might share the jest,” he said coolly.

“It does not translate well,” Nicholas said with a shrug.

Bayard felt his grip tighten upon the reins. “I should still like to know of what you speak.”

Nicholas’ eyes danced. “Afraid that I shall steal the wench who warms your bed, Bayard?”

“Of course not!”

“Wo-ho! He does fear as much!” Amaury began to laugh. “Bayard, you were supposed to ride here to find a bride, not a wench to please you.”

“Though she is most pretty,” Connor contributed.

“And if Bayard is anxious to keep her fast by his side, she must be amorous as well.”

The three of them beamed at Esmeraude and she, curse her, smiled at each of the knights in turn. She granted Bayard a playful smile, then clicked to her palfrey. The steed leapt away from the group and trotted in the wrong direction, toward Airdfinnan, at the maiden’s urging.

Esmeraude blew a kiss at Bayard over her shoulder. “Airdfinnan,” she murmured playfully.

“Aha! She does choose us!” Nicholas shouted with a glee most inappropriate to Bayard’s thinking.

“Ceinn-beithe,” he growled, tightening his grip upon the palfrey’s reins which slipped through his fingers.

Esmeraude pouted prettily, and had to be aware of how avidly the knights watched her. She came back to Bayard’s side, and he guessed from the mischief in her gaze that she was also aware of how vexed he was with her.

But there was a determination in the set of her lips and he knew that she would contrive to go to Airdfinnan, as she desired, with or without him. That he could do naught about the matter, save surrender her to his rivals or cede to her will, did little to improve his mood.

Bayard had never been cornered thus by a woman and he did not care for the change.

Esmeraude laughed, a sound as fetching as fairy bells, and shook her hair out loose down her back. The glance she cast over her shoulder at the other knights was at the very least encouraging.

If not wanton. Then she turned to him and licked her lips in a most provocative manner. “Airdfinnan?” she whispered, devilry in her expression.

Bayard’s anger simmered anew, for he was certain that she had decided to pretend to be a whore purely to vex him. He should have been more disturbed by how readily she provoked him, but his sole response was fury.

“I think she invites us to escort her in your stead,” Nicholas mused.

“’Tis but one of her games,” Bayard said sternly. “She is oft amorous in the morn - you need not fear that I shall see her sated.”

Esmeraude played with the tie of her chemise now - his chemise - pouting prettily when ’twas untied. She turned an appealing glance upon the knights, as if she could not manage to fasten the tie again herself, and Bayard glowered at the undoubtedly deliberate display of her creamy cleavage.

Nicholas whistled through his teeth.

“If she was sated, surely she would not be lustful so early in the morn,” Connor commented.

“Aye.” Nicholas offered his cousin a confident grin. “We could be of aid to you in this!”

“I thank you but I have no need of such assistance. If you would excuse us...”

“Oh, he is possessive of her,” Amaury teased. “She must indeed be a marvel abed. I recall that Bayard never saved his favors for one maiden alone. He oft said that no one woman could satisfy him.”

“I say we let her choose her mate of this morn,” Nicholas suggested, then called something to Esmeraude in that cursed alien tongue again.

The lady laughed and batted her lashes at him.

“If you will forgive me,” Bayard interrupted with vigor. “’Tis time we were all upon our way.” With a curt nod to his cousins and brother, he caught Esmeraude around the waist and hauled her from her saddle.

He planted her before him, and when she settled against him with a purr of satisfaction, his anger changed immediately to desire. Oh, she would be less triumphant when he was done with her. She would not only be sated, but she would be tamed, she would be biddable, and she would wear his ring upon her hand.

And she would be glad of it. He would teach her not to challenge him thus. He gave Argent his spurs and held fast to the lady, riding for Airdfinnan but leaving a distance between them and the other knights.

Bayard would see the matter resolved this very night.

Nay, he would resolve it this
moment
.

* * *

Esmeraude watched Bayard’s temper rise and conceded that she might have pushed him slightly too far. His eyes blazed with anger and his brow was dark. He held her against him in a relentless grip and showed no signs of halting his destrier. The beast raced unchecked and she was exhilarated to know that she could provoke Bayard to such passion.

She turned to look at him, much encouraged about the prospects for their future, and saw that there was but one matter upon his mind. Her heart leapt.

“Temptress!” he charged, then kissed her with startling vigor. His gloved hand held her captive beneath his embrace, his other arm was locked around her waist. His was a claiming kiss, and Esmeraude was surprised by how exciting she found his possessive touch.

But it still irked her that he expected to command her. He would not easily intimidate her with a kiss, however ardent it might be.

Aye, she would show him what it was to be a temptress.

Esmeraude locked her own hands around Bayard’s neck and returned his kiss in every measure. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and locked her fingers into his hair. She slid her tongue between his teeth and kissed him as if she would suck the marrow from his bones.

Bayard swore. Esmeraude felt victorious when he growled beneath her embrace and yet more so when his touch became urgent. She was distantly aware that the other knights hooted and whistled, but Esmeraude had forgotten all but Bayard’s kiss. The heat rose between them, her annoyance with his assumptions changing to another passion.

Bayard tore his lips from hers and Esmeraude loved how his eyes blazed brilliant blue. “Witch,” he charged, nigh as breathless as she, and Esmeraude laughed aloud.

She felt as she did when she conquered the sea: she felt vibrant and able to conquer whatever lay in her path. That she could conquer this man with a kiss and make him forget all but her was a victory indeed.

Esmeraude stared into his eyes and knew that their desires were as one in this moment. Truly, there was a better use of the heat between them than sharp words.

“You spoke the truth, my lord,” Esmeraude confided, her tone wicked. “For I am amorous indeed this morn and will not be readily sated.” She stretched to slide her tongue around his ear, then whispered against his flesh. “Do you dare to try?”

Bayard shivered then inhaled sharply. He flicked the merest glance at his squires before staring down at Esmeraude again. Indeed, his gaze simmered. “You win your desire in this, my lady, for we ride for Airdfinnan. Know that ’tis an indulgence upon my part and that I will not accept such defiance in future.”