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Authors: The Temptress

BOOK: Claire Delacroix
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“How strange that you travel with a wench to seek a bride.” The men matched steps and headed toward the hall.

Bayard grinned. “Not so strange when the wench is the bride in disguise.”

“I suspected that you knew the truth. I would guess there is a tale in that worthy of Esmeraude.” He lifted one hand. “Do not tell me of it. With my sister-in-law, I oft prefer to know less of matters.”

“Aye, I am coming to understand that sense.”

Angus laughed and clapped Bayard on the back. “You look to be a man in need of a draft of ale. Come to the hall with me.”

 

* * *

 

Chapter Ten

 

Esmeraude sighed in contentment as she slipped into a hot bath in Airdfinnan’s solar, sore after a day and a half of hard riding. Combined with her journey to the King of the Isles, she had been more than four days without a leisurely bath. She had lied to the knights and said that her sister was in service at Airdfinnan, so as to not reveal her identity.

That Bayard had guarded her jealously when they made camp the previous night encouraged her mightily.

There had been a tense moment at the gates of Airdfinnan, when her stern brother-in-law met the party of knights. Esmeraude knew that Angus recognized her immediately, though he said naught until the knights had shared their tale.

A thousand details of hospitality had ensued, for the horses had to be brushed and sheltered. More ale had to be poured and more meat sent to the kitchens. Baths were summoned for the knights and Esmeraude knew that they assumed that she and Célie bathed last in the dirty water. Bayard and Esmeraude were separated, and she wondered how he would continue his suit now.

She could not wait to find out.

Instead of the last water, Esmeraude lay in a lovely bath fragrant with rose petals, by her sister’s own dictate. Célie had washed quickly and left for the kitchens, intending to lend assistance, at least by her explanation. Esmeraude knew that her maid went to seek gossip, and no doubt to revel in the glory of bringing new tales from Ceinn-beithe.

Tales of Esmeraude. ’Twas of no import, for Esmeraude meant to make her identity clear when she went to the board this evening. For the moment, she savored the luxury of the hot water. She dozed and might not have noted the opening of the door behind her if a cool draft had not caught her across her shoulders.

“So I am in service to the lord, am I?” Jacqueline demanded cheerfully from behind Esmeraude’s tub. “Is that what they say of marriage these days?”

“Close the door! ’Tis cold,” Esmeraude cried and her sister laughed as she did so.

“Did you tell them all that I labor upon my back for the man’s favor?”

Esmeraude giggled and huddled beneath the water. “I left the matter to their interpretation.”

“There is a matter I shall not pursue!” Jacqueline’s footsteps grew louder as she approached. “I cannot imagine what brings you to our gates, Esmeraude. I was certain the
châtelain
spoke wrongly, for you should be occupied with the men summoned by
Maman
to compete for your hand.”

“I wished to talk to you, Jacqueline.”

“Because you must wed some man or join the cloister? Did you come to me to discover the truth of that life?”

Esmeraude grimaced, though her sister’s tone was merry. Jacqueline had intended to join the good sisters of Inveresbeinn until Angus had won her heart. “’Twill be a man for me, upon that you can rely. And indeed, ’tis for that reason that I come to your gates -” She turned to appeal to her sister, then halted in astonishment. “You are pregnant!”

Jacqueline touched her ripe belly as if noting its size for the first time. “Is that what has happened?” she demanded, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I thought ’twas that apple seed I swallowed last summer.”

“’Twas a seed of last summer beyond doubt, but not one of any apple,” Esmeraude teased.

Jacqueline laughed and lowered herself carefully to a stool. “Ah, the deeds I do in service to my lord and master.”

The playful comment reminded Esmeraude of Bayard and his expectations of a wife, a matter she was not quite ready to discuss. “Do you not have enough children already?” she teased instead.

“There are only the four of them thus far.” Jacqueline’s features lit as she recounted the graces of her brood. She ticked them off upon her fingers. “Fergus is but nine.”

“And the very image of Angus.”

“Save that he is unscarred.” As always, Jacqueline spoke of Angus’ disfigurement calmly, as if it did not trouble her at all. Knowing her gift for seeing the fullness of any soul’s character, Esmeraude suspected that such a detail would not. “But he is such a thoughtful boy, I cannot imagine that he will find much trouble in his days.”

“He makes sufficient mischief when he sets his mind to it.” Esmeraude remembered all too well finding a frog in her bed when her sister’s family last visited Ceinn-beithe and how the boy responsible had laughed at her surprise.

Jacqueline laughed. “Aye, and then he feigns innocence with such apparent sincerity. There is more to Fergus than meets the eye, that much is certain.”

“While one would never even guess that Annelise is born of the same parents as he.” Esmeraude strove to look innocent herself. “At least, I
assume
she has the same father.”

“Esmeraude!” Jacqueline laughed as she wagged a finger at her sister. “Only you could contrive such a wicked tale as that.” She smiled with affection. “You had best be certain that none think Annelise is
your
child. She is all sparkle and sunshine and charm. And busy! Indeed, she leaves us exhausted merely from watching her antics.”

“Has she ceased to grow so quickly?”

“Nay, she is taller than ever, nigh as tall as Fergus though he is two years older than she.”

“You should not feed her so well,” Esmeraude teased and Jacqueline playfully tossed another chunk of soap into the bath. It splashed, making Esmeraude squeal in surprise, and they laughed together.

“You will be surprised at how tall Ysembel has become this winter as well,” Jacqueline continued.

“I think she is the prettiest child that I have ever seen,” Esmeraude said firmly. She was fond of her nieces and nephews, and would have loved to have a hundred of them. Indeed, Jacqueline and Angus had a household filled with love of the same ilk she would prefer for herself. Esmeraude splashed in the bath, doubly determined to convince Bayard.

“I am teaching her to embroider, and she has considerable flair with a needle.”

“Poor soul,” Esmeraude muttered.

“You must ask to see her work - ’tis exquisite and she is most proud of herself.”

“You know that I have no appreciation for needlework.”

Jacqueline chuckled. “Aye, I recall how you hated it. Poor Célie should have been sainted for having to teach you. And my Alina, oh, she has a voice like an angel.”

“Does she speak yet?”

“Some. She prefers to sing nonsense and does so all the time.” Jacqueline shook her head in bemusement. “’Tis as if I gave birth to a songbird instead of a child.”

“And what shall you bear this time?”

“An apple, of course,” Jacqueline said with sparkling eyes. “If a particularly large one.” Her smile faded and she leaned closer. “In truth, I care naught for the babe’s gender. I would merely have it be hale.”

Esmeraude glimpsed the fear in her sister’s eyes and reached out, water dripping from her hand. “I would have you be hale,” she said softly and gripped her sister’s fingers. “In all seriousness, Jacqueline, you risk much in bearing so many babes.”

“You sound like Angus,” Jacqueline said with a rueful smile. “Babes seem a casualty of welcoming my husband to my bed.”

“’Tis not unholy to sleep alone some of the time.”

Jacqueline blushed and glanced away. “Nay, but ’tis cold.”

’Twas all too easy to understand now what particular kind of heat Jacqueline sought from her spouse. Esmeraude felt her own flush rise, for Esmeraude understood the pleasure that could be found in a man’s embrace better than her sister imagined.

What if she bore Bayard’s child? Esmeraude straightened in alarm. It could happen, and if it did, ’twould only strengthen Bayard’s conviction to wed her regardless of any lack of love between them. But she did not want him to wed her because he thought he had to!

She stood quickly to evade such troubling thoughts, and began to roughly rub herself dry with a length of linen.

“You asked why I came to Airdfinnan,” she said briskly. “I wished your counsel.”

“Aye? Why do I have the sense that you have made some mischief, perhaps with perilous consequence?”

Esmeraude found herself flushing. “Mine seemed a good idea at the time.”

“The worst folly always seems a good idea at some time to you.” Jacqueline shook her head, then straightened on her stool, as if sitting in judgment. She showed a startling resemblance to their mother. “But tell me what you have done.”

Esmeraude wrapped the linen about herself and folded her arms across her chest. “You will not like the tale.”

“Indulge me.”

Esmeraude ticked her deeds off on her fingers. “I have embarked upon a quest for a spouse -”

“But
Maman
is hosting a Bride Quest for you!”

“I will not wed a man who desires me only for my dowry,” Esmeraude said firmly. “I would be wed for myself first, and have my dowry be, as ’tis intended, a blessing upon the match. I would wed for love, as you have done and as
Maman
intended.”

“You might love one of the men summoned for you. No doubt that was
Maman
’s plan.”

“No doubt, but it failed.”

“And thus you have...?”

Esmeraude indicated her second finger. “I have been handfasted to a Norseman. I have fled that man while yet chaste, leaving him senseless and bound in a locked room.” She pursed her lips. “I am rid of my maidenhead. I have stolen a boat and kidnapped a knight’s squire. I have stolen a steed, pretended to be a whore, seduced a knight, and fled his side while he slept. I have lied about my identity.” Esmeraude narrowed her eyes as she reviewed her recent deeds. “I believe that is the sum of it.”

But Jacqueline was still partway through the list. “You are rid of your maidenhead?” she echoed.

“’Twas the source of my woes, Jacqueline, and the reason why the King of the Isles handfasted me to a brute of a man. Its absence gives no man an advantage over me.”

One man had an advantage, but Esmeraude chose not to speak of him just yet.

Jacqueline clearly did not share her view. “But, but, to whom did you lose it?”

Esmeraude frowned, knowing that her sister might take Bayard’s view of his duty to wed the maid he had sampled first. She was not quite prepared to grant him such an advantage. Not before she knew whether his heart could be won. “It matters naught.”

“It most certainly does!”

“Then ’twas given to a dream of a man, a man wrought of the mist of the sea and the dust of the faeries, a man who does not exist in truth. ’Tis gone, Jacqueline, and I will speak no more of it.”

“Was it this man’s squire you kidnapped?” Jacqueline guessed.

“’Twas not so dreadful as it sounds,” Esmeraude admitted, before the gleam in her sister’s eyes told her that she had revealed more than she had wished. “The boy was asleep in the boat and I had no choice but to take him with us. I left him with his companion.”

“So, you stole this same man’s boat as well.”

“‘Borrowed’ is perhaps a better choice of word.”

“Borrowed!” Jacqueline shook her head, then looked thoughtful. “And his horse, as well?”

Esmeraude did not answer, though her sister’s gaze was cursedly perceptive.

“I do not suppose that he would be the same knight you seduced?” Esmeraude’s flush was evidently answer enough to that. Jacqueline sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “So, you have lost your virginity to a knight and fled from him. Would he not wed you?”

“It matters naught!”

“I say it does.” Jacqueline dropped her voice, as if they were exchanging secrets abed once again. “What is his name?”

Esmeraude looked away. “I will not divulge it.”

“Nonsense!”

“I sought to be rid of the liability of my maidenhead and I chose a stranger for the task. His name is not of any import.”

“Then why does it vex you so when I ask? Why did you seduce him and why do you flee him, under disguise as a serving maid?” Jacqueline grinned. “Tell me, Esmeraude. I swear this intriguing tale shall go no further.”

“And if I do not share it?”

“You know that I shall uncover the truth without your aid.”

Esmeraude realized that Célie would be only too willing to share all the details with Jacqueline. The maid did love to be the bearer of news. Indeed, Célie might already be regaling those in the kitchens with what she had seen. Jacqueline would hear some variant of the truth soon enough.

Indeed, the sole advantage Esmeraude had was in being the one to tell the tale and thus letting the truth reign. Knowing she had lost, she grimaced and sat down upon a stool beside her sister. “If I confide in you, Jacqueline, you must pledge to tell none of what I have said.”

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