Claire Delacroix (16 page)

Despite Brianna’s determiniation, ’twas the following morning before she could return to the garden again. Uther had taken to her request with a vengeance and Brianna had spent the day fast on his heels, desperately hoping she would recall half of what the steward explained to her.

’Twas interesting, though, that much she had to admit. Even if she did keep peeking to see whether Luc remained at work.

He was there every time Brianna looked.

’Twas a blessing that Ismay snored so loudly, for Brianna awakened when the chamber was yet dark. She dressed in haste, hoping she might actually secure her mother’s letters before Luc appeared.

Brianna raced down the stairs and burst from the hall into the bailey. Her heart leapt to find a familiar figure already in the orchard, even though the dawn light was just tinging the sky.

Curse the man! Luc had
still
beat her to the orchard.

Brianna did not like the way her heart began to pound with anticipation. She was prepared, she told herself firmly. She knew the question she must ask, she was ready to tolerate the kiss Luc would demand in return.

’Twould be better to see the matter resolved.

Brianna’s lips thinned and she strode across the cobbled bailey. She had the distinct sense that the passing of each day diminished her sire’s chance to regain Tullymullagh yet further. Gavin might hire more forces or more of his men might arrive. Time was of the essence!

But ’twas of kisses Brianna was thinking, not time, when Luc glanced up. He smiled slightly, as though he had been expecting her, and Brianna felt the oddest flutter within her
belly at his acknowledgement. Luc immediately sheathed his blade to watch her approach.

Had she not known better, Brianna might have thought Luc had missed her.

“Duties done?” he asked mildly, then his eyes twinkled. “Or did it take this long to see matters arranged to the lady Ismay’s satisfaction?”

Brianna almost smiled in return. “You have met her, then?”

Luc rolled his eyes. “Her arrival would have been difficult to slumber through. She seems to be one much indulged.”

“Like me?” Brianna could not help but tease him in turn as she trudged through the undergrowth of the orchard.

The flash of Luc’s eyes was quick and he hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “Nay,” he admitted softly, his gaze assessing. “Nay, not at all like you.”

The concession sounded like a compliment. And one that Luc was surprised to find himself making.

Brianna was prepared to ask for details, when Tullymullagh’s portcullis creaked. She glanced back to the gates at the gatekeeper’s unexpectedly merry shout of welcome. Who had arrived so early in the day?

A tall knight dismounted in the bailey with a flourish, his white stallion stamping proudly. The beast, caparisoned with brilliant red that matched the hue of the knight’s tabard perfectly, stepped tall and his nostrils flared.

The knight’s mail gleamed. His squire was quick by his side to take the helmet he removed. A shout rang across the bailey and Denis the ostler scurried out to look, his expression changing from confusion to astonishment.

“Ruarke!” Brianna cried.

The knight grinned cockily, his sandy hair tousled by the wind. “Brianna! Wench of my heart!” he roared, then laughed with his characteristic merry rumble.

“You are back!”

“ ’Tis true enough,” the knight retorted cheerfully. Denis welcomed Lightning with a murmur and the warhorse deigned to have its ears scratched. Squire and ostler led the stallion and pair of palfreys toward the stable.

Ruarke fixed Brianna with a bright glance. “Now, come, and let me have a look at you!”

But Brianna halted on the perimeter of the orchard. She propped her hands upon her hips and glared cheekily at the new arrival. “Where have you been?” she demanded with a sternness that was not completely feigned. She was very aware of Luc attending this conversation. “What manner of champion knight are you to abandon your lord’s keep in its most dire hour?”

Ruarke sobered and folded his arms across his chest. He looked most stern and forbidding when he assumed this pose. “And what, child, do you imagine I have been doing?”

Child
. ’Twas how Ruarke treated her, that much was for certain. Irritation slid through Brianna even as Ruarke strode closer and she felt her color rise in indignation.

Luc did not think she was a child. Brianna could not halt the comparison that came immediately to mind.

’Twas odd, but even though Luc had awakened these new urges within Brianna, she felt no similar tingle of anticipation when Ruarke strode toward her.

“I saw you speak with Father two months past,” she charged quietly and a flame lit in the knight’s eyes.

“Then you know I did not abandon my liege lord,” Ruarke retorted in an undertone.

“He sent you for aid,” Brianna guessed.

Ruarke shook his head and frowned in clear disappointment. “And there was none to be had. All of Ireland has been beset.”

Brianna frowned. It seemed to her that it should not have taken Ruarke so long to work his way back to Tullymullagh. Indeed, if he had arrived sooner, Tullymullagh might not have fallen into Gavin’s hands.

Brianna tilted her chin. “And you returned via … France?” she challenged.

Ruarke smiled sadly and his voice dropped yet further. “Brianna,” he chided gently, as though he explained a matter of great complexity to a dimwitted child. “I had to ask at every keep. I had to knock at every door in my quest to bring aid to your sire.”

His eyes turned sad and he glanced behind himself. “To return alone was a defeat I never hoped to face. Know this, never would I willingly fail in any quest your sire did grant me.”

Brianna immediately felt guilty for judging him so harshly. How like Ruarke to exhaust every possibility before he conceded defeat! He had tried, even if his prolonged absence had not aided Tullymullagh in the least.

Ruarke could not have known precisely what transpired here.

“Now, come here and let me see you,” he suggested.

Brianna drew herself up proudly and eyed the knight with mock hauteur. “I come to you? ’Tis
you
who should bend your knee to me!”

Ruarke chuckled, cast aside his gauntlets, took the two steps left between them, and dropped to one knee. “Your wish, my princess, is my very command.”

Brianna caught her breath, certain she would feel something when Ruarke captured her hand within his.

But she felt naught. ’Twas true his hand was warm and just as rough as Luc’s, not to mention as tanned. His fingers were strong, and her hand looked small within his.

But Ruarke might as well have been her father for all the
tingles he set in motion. He even brushed his lips across her knuckles and Brianna felt naught at all.

She did not want to think about the import of that and hauled her hand out of the knight’s grip. “Fool,” she charged, achingly aware that Luc was witnessing this.

Luc, who awakened tingles aplenty, seemingly without even making an effort to do so.

“Fool? Not I!” Ruarke lunged to his feet, caught Brianna around the waist and spun her in the air. “What is this? Why are you not garbed in one of your fine kirtles?” He frowned and fumbled, as though he would drop her to the ground. “And God’s blood, child, what have you been eating? You have gotten
fat
in my absence!”

The twinkle in the knight’s eye belied his words and Brianna gave him a hearty swat on the shoulder. “More likely ’tis
you
who have been losing your strength, playing chess instead of swinging your sword!”

At the charge, Ruarke sobered anew, his glance flicking to the alien standard that fluttered from the roof of the gatehouse. “Come,” he murmured. “I have need of a cup of ale and whatever you can tell me of matters here.”

Brianna glanced back over her shoulder before she could stop herself. Her own heart took an unruly skip when she found Luc staring directly at her, his arms folded across his chest and his expression grim.

Indeed, she could fairly see the blazing sapphire of his eyes, even at such a distance.

She hesitated at the sight of his annoyance. ’Twas unlike him to be visibly irked, Brianna knew it well, and the fact that his look was directed at her suggested she might be responsible.

If she left in this moment, she might well be missing another opportunity to drive Luc away. Luc would compose
himself in her absence and Brianna would have to lay siege to his defenses anew.

On the other hand, Ruarke might be persuaded to aid her in this and he could be a formidable ally.

Brianna chewed her lip, torn between her choices.

“What is this?” Ruarke demanded. “Do you pursue a dalliance with some garden laborer?” Though his tone was yet teasing, there was a dark thread running beneath his words that startled Brianna. She looked at Ruarke to find his expression anything but jovial.

Indeed, he looked most displeased. His lips had drawn taut and his eyes were narrowed. Brianna blinked, for she had always seen Ruarke smiling and amiable.

“Does your sire know of this?” he demanded, his manner bristling with disapproval.

And Brianna was immediately reassured. How like Ruarke to think of honor and her father’s pride, to fear for her reputation! Brianna smiled and tucked her hand into his elbow.

“There is naught for him to know about. We have but talked of the trees,” she said, feeling the tension ease out of the knight’s arm. “He is going to teach me to restore the gardens as they were when Mother tended them.”

She might have introduced the pair, but Ruarke fired a hostile glance over his shoulder to the eerily still Luc. “ ’Tis inappropriate labor for you,” he said curtly. “Leave the man to his task. We shall see you garbed properly and set before the fire with your embroidery before midday.” He tapped her on the nose. “You should have naught to trouble yourself save which color of silk to ply next.”

And that apparently was that, at least to Ruarke’s mind. Brianna gaped at him, astonished that he could expect her to waste time with her embroidery when the future of Tullymullagh was at stake.

Then Ruarke winked at her playfully, his earlier manner restored. “Shall we steal a loaf of fresh bread from the kitchens?”

“Cook will have words for you,” Brianna warned, as always she did. “You know he likes to guard every single loaf until midday.”

“Ah! It shall be just as old times.” Ruarke grinned mischievously. He waggled a finger at Brianna. “Indeed, I
dare
you to steal a second at the same time.”

’Twas their old game all over again. Aye, Cook would bellow, Ruarke would charm and they would be chased from the kitchen by Cook wielding a wooden spoon dripping with gravy. On the threshold of the hall, Cook would abandon the chase, though not without dire warnings regarding their next visit to the kitchens.

Then, they two would collapse onto benches in the hall and devour their prize. ’Twas familiar enough and had proven a source of amusement time and again.

But why did an oft-played game suddenly seem childish beyond all?

’Twas just her concern for her sire coloring Brianna’s mood, she knew it well. She forced a smile for Ruarke and nodded assent. They turned their footsteps toward the kitchen, but, as they reached the portal, Brianna could not help looking back to the orchard one last time.

With determination, Luc was pulling weeds from around the roots of the trees quickly and efficiently, apparently oblivious to her departure. Brianna nibbled her bottom lip and wondered what he truly was thinking.

There was no doubt that the man would not tell her, even if she asked. Brianna turned back to Ruarke, certain he had not noticed her backward glance.

But Brianna was wrong.

Luc pulled undergrowth with a savagery he had not known he possessed. He told himself that he was but unnerved by the interview with his sire yester morn, but recognized the lie. His jaw still ached slightly in recollection, particularly when he gritted his teeth with vigor.

As he did in this moment.

Luc certainly had not missed the lady Brianna’s annoying presence all the day before. He had not looked for her, he had not listened for her voice, he had not replayed the intoxicating sweetness of her kiss countless times.

Not Luc. He was a man with labor to be done. And he certainly had not missed the board yesterday because he wished to avoid the lady—or her obliviousness to him. Nay, he had merely forgotten the midday meal.

The great hall of a keep like Tullymullagh was not Luc’s place, after all.

At least not anymore.

Luc was certainly not thinking about his spurs and sword safely tucked away at Llanvelyn. He refused to recall his own splendid caparisoned warhorse or the weight of a blade within his grip or to consider himself arriving much as this Ruarke had.

Nay. Luc had made a pledge and he would keep it.

Indeed, the touching reunion he had just witnessed told Luc all that he needed to know. ’Twas hardly news that he had been merely a diversion for the princess Brianna.

No doubt this knight had already sampled the princess’ kisses most thoroughly.