Claire Delacroix (85 page)

“You cannot do this!” Deirdre’s lip curled. “I shall send word to the king of your deeds! I shall tell him that you abducted my own daughter!”

Burke was not afraid of anything this woman might do. Indeed, now that he knew that Alys would be safely by his side, there was no reason not to speak his mind.

“And I shall counter with revealing yours. Trust me in this, for your king thinks little of those who would deny children their inheritance, even an inheritance as humble as Kiltorren. Such testimony would win you little in the royal court, and still less for your own daughters.” Burke smiled coolly. “Go to the king and you shall never see these two wed.”

“You are insolent! I should have had you barred from Kiltorren’s gates.” Deirdre sputtered. “Indeed, I shall not permit you to pass within these walls again!”

Burke did not even raise his voice, so ridiculous was her claim. “You could not stop me, not with the lack of knights you have within your employ. Indeed, madame, you should count your good fortune that I do not covet Kiltorren.”

“Kiltorren is my family home and my legacy,” Deirdre
cried. “ ’Tis a fine abode and you—a man of no estate—have no place finding fault with it.”

“ ’Tis an adequate enough abode,” Burke conceded. “And much could be made of it. My disinterest is wrought of Alys’s memories alone. You have tainted this place for her, and although a part of me would delight in seeing you deprived in recompense, I put my lady’s needs first.”

“Your lady.” Deirdre sneered. “Alys is no lady, and I do not believe that you truly intend to wed her. ’Tis a whore you steal from me, and one less mouth to feed, in truth. Take her!” Deirdre flung out a hand. “And take Brigid as well, if she is fool enough to follow your lies.”

“Indeed,” came a cool voice from the shadows of the portal. “ ’Tis lies we leave behind.”

Burke glanced up to find Alys hovering on the threshold, though he could not have guessed how long she stood there. A homespun cloak was wrapped over her shoulders, the hood drawn so high against the foul weather that he could not see her features.

“If you leave, then do not return to Kiltorren, Alys,” Deirdre snapped. “I will have no space for you, even if you come to beg.”

“Do not fear, Aunt,” Alys declared with quiet conviction. “I shall never return.”

And she stepped out into the bailey toward Burke, her regal bearing making him proud she would be his bride. He offered his hand, closing his fingers over hers when he felt the tremble in her touch. Alys brought no baggage, not so much as a comb, and Burke knew ’twas a decision she made to take naught of this place.

“There is an opportunity here for graciousness,” Burke said to Deirdre as he drew his lady close.

Deirdre’s lips thinned. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Clearly. But your daughter and niece ride out into the
world, blessed only with myself to protect them. It might be suitable—”

“Who else would you take with you?” Deirdre interrupted. “Who else would you steal from Kiltorren?”

’Twas clear that Deirdre cared little for her ward and her daughter’s safety. Burke chose to be blunt. “The women will have need of a maid. I can only suggest your contribution to this journey in the person of Edana.”

“EDANA?” Deirdre was enraged. “She is a serf! She is the
property
of Kiltorren!”

“Who else would you send?” Burke asked. “Or would you have your daughter scorned at the royal court?” He guessed that this was a weak flank by the way the older woman caught her breath. “Would you have all mock Kiltorren and its daughter?”

Deirdre’s lips tightened and she glared at Brigid. “A pox on you for forcing me to this,” she declared, and Brigid flushed agitatedly. But Deirdre had already turned back to Burke. “Take her, then, though I suppose that is not the last of it. Why is this stablehand lingering by your side?”

“Kerwyn intends also to accompany us.”

“To return the horses?”

“Nay, the ostler will ride out and return with your palfreys. Kerwyn, who as you know is a free man, intends to travel with us.”

Deirdre’s countenance darkened. “My daughter, a slave and a stablehand, and the ostler gone for days. Do not trouble yourself to ask my opinion of your lofty plans!”

“I shall not,” Burke replied, refraining from commenting that Alys was, again, absent from her aunt’s list. “You have wrought enough damage as the matter stands.”

“Who else do you take? Am I to be left with
anyone
within these walls?”

Burke permitted himself a cold smile. “Look upon the
bright side of matters, Lady Deirdre. You shall have fewer mouths to feed.”

Her lips pinched tightly, her eyes flashed, but Beauregard strode out of the keep before Burke could turn away. The cook dropped a sturdy sack before the lady of the keep, and his expression was apologetic.

“I heard of this expedition,” he said, his voice a solemn rumble. “And I must offer myself as chaperone to Lady Brigid. ’Tis not proper for two maidens to travel alone with a knight, even one as reputable as Burke de Montvieux.”

Deirdre gaped at him. “You would leave as well?”

“Aye.” Beauregard’s expression set. “I would assure their safety with mine own hands if need be.” There was an air about him that told Burke that this man had fought with his hands before.

Indeed, he would welcome Beauregard on this journey.

“But this is highly inappropriate,” Deirdre protested. “You are not free! You cannot simply leave. What should we eat?”

Beauregard looked troubled. “But the maidens …”

“Have made their choice and will have to bear the burden of the results,” Deirdre snapped. “Return to your duties, Cook. I shall expect a fine repast at midday.”

But Beauregard did not move. “My lady Deirdre, would you deny me the only request that I have ever made of you?”

“Aye!”

“But your daughter …”

“I do not care!” Deirdre screeched. “Get to your labor!”

Beauregard’s face fell. He turned aside, then bent to scoop up his belongings, the very image of a defeated man.

Alys sighed softly under her breath and her fingers tightened on Burke’s own. He knew well enough that she had an affection for the gentle man and knew also that Beauregard had oft cared for Alys.

“And hasten yourself,” Deirdre snapped. “We have a guest in the hall who expects finer fare than you usually conjure.”

Beauregard paused for a telling moment when the barb hit its mark, and Burke guessed that he took great pride in his labor. ’Twas not as if Kiltorren’s larder burst with fine ingredients.

“ ’Tis so unfair,” Alys whispered.

Burke impulsively reached beneath his tabard and withdrew a small pouch. He did not have much coin left to his name but this cause was a worthy one.

He withdrew a silver denier, ruefully noted there was but one more, then called the cook’s name. The large man turned, his eyes widened, and he snatched the flashing coin out of the air instinctively. He turned it in his palm, then looked to Burke in astonishment.

“Buy your freedom from this place, Beauregard, and join us. I would welcome your companionship.”

“Oh, Burke.” Alys’s voice wavered slightly. “Bless you for this.” Burke slipped an arm around his lady’s waist and drew her closer, liking how she leaned on his shoulder. ’Twas no small thing for Alys to lean on anyone. Aye, all would be fine, provided Brigid and Guillaume found each other pleasing.

Beauregard clutched the coin. His eyes misted with tears but he grinned like a madman. “I thank you, sir, I
thank
you. I shall see that you never regret this deed!” Then the cook stepped forward, bowed to the Lady of Kiltorren, and presented the coin to her.

Deirdre’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then she snatched up the silver. “Begone with you, then, all of you! And good riddance to the lot.” She spun and stalked back to the portal, hissing something under her breath.

“Let us go before she thinks again,” Alys said anxiously.

“Alys?” Burke murmured, easing her closer. He could fairly taste her distress and knew ’twas more than how Deirdre had
addressed Beauregard. But when he would have looked into the shadows of the hood, Alys kept her face averted.

That could be no accident. A chill sliced through Burke with the surety of a knife. “What is amiss? Alys, tell me!”

“I cannot,” she whispered, though her fingers clung to his. “Not before we are at sea.”

“Alys, what has happened?”

The lady’s fingers tightened. “I cannot tell you as yet, but I will. All will be fine once we leave Kiltorren behind. Please, Burke, I ask only that you trust me in this.”

“You will tell me?”

“Once we are at sea.” A smile crept into her voice. “I pledge it to you.”

The change in her tone reassured him slightly. “I will do so, Alys, if you consent to ride with me.” He heard the breath of her laughter and his concerns were immediately eased. If she laughed, matters could not be as dire as he had feared.

“Aye,” Alys agreed. “Aye, I will.”

She would ride with him, she would wed him, she left Kiltorren with him. Burke could want naught else. He lifted Alys onto his saddle with a flourish, then swung up behind her, clamping his arm protectively around her waist. Moonshadow pranced impatiently while Beauregard mounted the second palfrey. Kerwyn helped Edana mount behind Brigid, then swung up himself behind the ostler on the third palfrey.

Burke drew Alys tightly against him, wrapping his fur-lined cloak around them both. The mist changed subtly and a soft rain began to fall as he gave Moonshadow his spurs. ’Twas folly to ride out so late, but there was not a one of them who would have stayed another night at Kiltorren instead. Burke knew he did not imagine his lady’s soft sigh of relief when they waved to Godfrey and rode beneath Kiltorren’s gate.

Aye, all was finally as it should be.

Malvina awakened from a languid sleep at the sound of her mother ranting in the kitchen. Deirdre slammed pots and pans, shoved furniture, and swore like a sailor.

Indeed, her mother sounded even more vexed than usual. Malvina nestled back against Talbot’s warmth where they lay secreted in the storeroom, fearing that her deeds were responsible for her mother’s wrath. But Deirdre stomped from the kitchen, her angry footsteps echoing in the hall and finally on the stairs.

Malvina bit her lip and turned to watch the knight sleep, wondering how she would manage this to ensure she won her heart’s desire. Surely her knight would do the honorable thing, after the dishonorable things they had done? How she wished she knew! She surveyed him through her lashes, her heart tripping at his handsomeness, and knew one way to have her answer.

Malvina rolled against him, rubbing her breasts against his side in the way that had made him moan all the afternoon, and walked her fingers up his chest.

Talbot grimaced, swatted at her hand, and turned his back to her. “Leave me be, wench.” He growled. “My head aches fit to explode and ’tis all from that miserable wine your lord served me. Awaken
him
with your lust and leave me sleep.”

Malvina’s hand stilled. “Awaken my lord?”

“Aye. I have eyes enough to see that you are his favored whore. Seek your pleasure elsewhere, wench, I have had all I require of you.” And the knight settled in to slumber.

Talbot thought she was a whore?

He thought she coupled with her own father?

He thought he was
done
with her?

“How dare you so insult me?” Malvina grasped a fistful of the knight’s chemise and shook him back to wakefulness.

“I am sleeping!”

“You will do no such thing before you listen to me!” Malvina retorted. She lifted him slightly by his chemise, then released her grip.

He thunked his head, his eyes flew open, and he frowned. “What is this you do? I shall see you paid for your service.”

Malvina leaned over him, her anger clearly evident, for he warily eased backward. “I am no whore, sir,” she declared with a precision that could not be missed.

“But—but you came to me and offered yourself,” the knight argued wildly. “No woman of decency would do as much!”

“And no man of decency would shame his host by coupling with that man’s daughter!”

Talbot blanched in a most satisfactory way. “You are not his daughter. You cannot be his daughter!”

He had not even looked at her. Disappointment unfurled in Malvina’s belly, for she had done her utmost to win this man’s attention. Indeed, she had thought he greeted her with such pleasure because he was attracted to her.

But ’twas all a lie. He thought her a whore, he thought her innocence was his for the taking.

He had not even noticed her innocence.

“I
am
the daughter of this house,” Malvina corrected, her voice shaking with cold anger. “Had you troubled to look my way but once since your arrival, you would have realized the truth.”

“Dear God!” The knight dropped his face into his hands. “You are the one they want to force me to wed.”

His choice of words did little to appease Malvina. “I am the one you
will
wed,” she declared vehemently. “I shall see you account for the taking of my maidenhead, and I shall personally ensure that you pay penance for this insult.”