Claire Delacroix (87 page)

There were yet so many obstacles laid before them, but Alys believed that her knight could surmount any barrier. “Nay, Burke.” She squeezed his hand in turn. “I trust you in this.”

“Alys, we sail as soon as the wool is loaded, by the captain’s decree.” He brushed his lips across her fingers, sending a tingle over her flesh. “I shall expect your accounting of what happened at Kiltorren as soon as the ropes are cast off. Meet me on the deck once your cousin is settled.”

And he turned to stride away. Alys did not argue, even if she did dread his response. At least there was naught he could do about the matter any longer.

The sun was already dipping low when the ropes were cast off. The deck was alive with activity as men made ready to depart. The sails were hoisted aloft, fluttered, then billowed with a snap. Men called to each other, those on the docks waved farewell, Kerwyn, Beauregard, and Burke grinned, their labor complete, and wiped the sweat from their brows. The ship eased farther out to sea, and Burke took a deep breath of the salt-tinged air.

“Farewell, Kiltorren,” he whispered. “Farewell to all of you.”

He pivoted and found Alys already waiting at the rail, her cloak lifting in the breeze. Her back was to him, her gaze fixed on the coastline fading from view, and Burke strode across the deck to her side. Her hood was pushed back for the first time since they had left Kiltorren, her hair cast into disarray by the wind. He smiled at the way the fading sunlight picked out the gold of her hair and braced his elbows on the rail beside her.

“Gilded sunlight,” he murmured. “I knew ’twould fit.”

“Ah, Burke, you always seem to know what to say,” Alys mused. Burke heard the smile in her voice, turned to face her, and did not know what to say.

Indeed, he gaped at the bruise staining Alys’s face.

The blackened eye was not new, its shade already turning yellow around the edges and the purple fading in spots. He would guess its age at three or four days.

Before they left Kiltorren. Burke’s hand rose to caress her
cheek, then he feared he would hurt her further if he touched her. His hand fell again to the rail.

Then anger flashed through him. “How did your aunt dare to strike you again?” he demanded, his words low and hot. “I thought matters were clear between her and myself.”

“ ’Twas Malvina.” Alys lifted her hood once more. “And there is naught to be done about it now.” She turned to face the horizon again, and Burke braced his hands against the rail, fighting against his unruly tide of anger.

How could she be so composed? He wanted vengeance for what she had endured, and the more onerous the better!

“Why did you not tell me of it?” he demanded. “I would have ensured a toll was paid!”

“I know.” And she punctuated that with a telling glance.

“You should have told me.”

Alys shook her head, a small smile curving her lips. “I know enough of you to understand that you would have done something rash in my defense,” she claimed softly, no censure in her gaze. Indeed, there was a glimmer that might have been teasing in her eyes. “And we should
never
have been freed of that place.”

Alys said “we” so easily that Burke could not help but grin. He braced his elbows against the rail and unabashedly studied her. “Have you a problem with my defense of my lady fair?”

“Nay, but Aunt has already won one silver denier too many from your purse.”

Burke snorted. “I have a mind to fetch it back again, as a toll for this insult.” He caught a glimpse of Alys’s alarm and covered her hand with his. “But do not fear, we shall not return there.”

Alys smiled fully, her bruise doing naught to diminish her allure. She leaned on the rail beside Burke, her arm brushing against his. “Perhaps I do not understand you as well as I thought,” she mused playfully.

Burke could not halt his answering smile. “Indeed?”

“Indeed. I expected you to try to steal a kiss in this roman
tic moment,” she charged, her dimple denting that colored cheek. “Indeed, you have been most reticent of late. Perhaps you are not the man I think you to be.”

Burke chuckled. “Perhaps I am a man who has learned that the kiss my lady grants of her own volition is far sweeter than any I might steal.” Alys flushed slightly at that, her eyes fairly dancing. “Truly, such kisses as yours are well worth the wait.”

“Oh, you have a honeyed tongue,” she teased. “Do you regale all the ladies with such glowing accounts of your love?”

“Nay, Alys. Only you.” Burke captured her hand. “ ’Tis you I love and you alone. ’Twill always be thus, I fear.”

“Such a fate,” Alys jested, and they shared a warm smile.

Though the lady did not confess a similar affliction. Burke could not help but note her omission.

But he had learned to wait for gifts from Alys, not force her hand.

’Twas a shame the task became no easier.

“Tell me at least that your opponent looks worse.”

Alys laughed lightly and wrinkled her nose in a most fetching manner. “I assure you, she will be
sorer
.”

Burke grinned and caught his lady against him, admiring yet again her fortitude. “You were right in not trusting my response, Alys.” He winked at her. “But I would appreciate your not telling all that my impulse was wrong.”

The peal of her laughter was all the reward Burke needed.

That and the quick disappearance of Ireland’s shore. They watched the gap of the sea grow wider and their thoughts must have turned as one to the shore they eventually would reach.

“So, are your formidable mother and cruel father smitten with each other?” Alys asked.

Burke snorted. “Nay, they two loathe each other.”

Alys cast an alarmed glance his way and Burke shrugged. “There is no point garnishing the truth of it. They are mismatched and I understand it became clear soon after their
nuptials. My earliest memories are of their battles. They chose to live apart when I was very young and, mercifully, their paths seldom cross. I have no doubt ’tis deliberately contrived.”

“Then why do you put such stock in love’s value?”

“Because love is what is missing in their marriage.” Burke frowned, knowing he had to convince Alys of the merit of something she had never seen. “My father wed always to sate his lust, a lust born as much of carnal desire as his thirst for power. My mother is attractive in her way and also an heiress. He could not resist her and, for a telling moment, she could not resist him.”

He pursed his lips. “She insisted upon marriage, though I have no doubt she later wished otherwise.”

Burke smiled at a thoughtful Alys. “I am the result of that moment of folly, though all ended soon after my conception. My elder brother, Luc, is the result of an earlier passion of our father’s, though that bride had the grace to die and leave him unfettered. My mother would never so indulge a man.”

“I am not certain I want to meet this woman.”

“I will protect you,” Burke pledged, and Alys chuckled.

“Tell me more.”

“There is not much more. They lived in a common hell of their own making, until my father dallied with a dancer from a traveling troupe. The resulting toddler arrived at our gates several years later—my brother Rowan—and my mother was so infuriated that she cast my father from Montvieux’s gates.”

“She did not divorce him?”

Burke smiled in mingled affection and respect. “As I said, she is disinclined to serve the will of others. And my father had no desire to lose the prestige of being associated with Montvieux. In truth, the only thing they agreed upon was that I should inherit the estate of my mother’s family.”

“They sound most fearsome.”

Burke nodded. “When I was a child, I thought all marriages were thus, as children are wont to do. Then I trained for my spurs
in a happy household. The lord and lady did not fight, they did not bed others, they did not insult each other, and they lived together in peace and contentment I could not make sense of this, as you might imagine. The lord himself told me of the power of love, and the evidence of its effects was there before me.

“Over the years I studied couples and quickly discerned that those who claimed love between them were the happiest. ’Tis true that many matches are based on mutual trust, or affection, or respect, or even compassion, and though these may also be acceptable marriages, there is not a one that can hold a candle to a match made in love.”

Burke shrugged and looked to Alys again, reassured to find that he had her full attention. “I see naught amiss with being truly happy, and in fact, far prefer it to the opposite. Having come from a marriage filled with strife, I would doubly appreciate one devoid of it.”

Alys shook her head. “No marriage is devoid of strife.”

“Nay, but those based upon love shake free of it more readily. I have seen it to be so, time and time again.”

Alys considered him for a long moment, her eyes filled with questions. “You have seen far more of the world than I,” she admitted softly. “Tell me of it.”

And Burke was more than content to do precisely that.

’Twas a fortnight before they landed at Le Havre. Alys had no idea there were so many ports—so many people!—beyond the circle of Kiltorren’s walls. She was fascinated by their differences and similarities, and she raced to the deck each morning to spend the day by Burke’s side. He told the most wondrous tales, he made her laugh, he surprised her with his insight.

And if he braced his hands against the rail on either side of her, effectively holding Alys in his arms, well, she was certain there was naught amiss with his ensuring that she did not lose her footing on the wet rolling deck.

Brigid was pale when they disembarked, for she had been violently ill for all of the journey. She closed her eyes in relief when her feet were on solid ground again, her fingers clung to Alys, and a ghost of a smile curved her lips.

“No more ships,” she declared, and Alys felt guilty for having enjoyed those days with Burke while her cousin suffered.

There was an even more marked bounce to Edana’s steps these days, her smiles cast at Kerwyn more often than not. Alys did not doubt that they two had spent considerable time together as well. She could not chide the maid for seizing happiness and, indeed, wished she shared Edana’s cheerful optimism.

Burke strode back to the small company, Beauregard lumbering in his wake. Behind, Kerwyn coaxed Moonshadow onto the gangplank, that steed looking less than amused by the journey he had endured.

“Dame Fortune smiles upon us,” Burke said with his own smile for Alys. “The Templar sergeant asks us to take some horses to Paris for him. He was pleased with our aid, though much of his gratitude is likely due to Beauregard’s skill with salt fish and dill.”

The former cook of Kiltorren had taken to the ship’s galley when Brigid fell ill, determined to see her regain her health. The sea, though, had undermined all of his efforts and, indeed, had won most of them.

“One must eat with dignity, regardless of one’s circumstance.” The large man sniffed. “What I could have done with a plump hen! Lady Brigid would not have faded so had I more than fish at hand.”

Brigid groaned and clutched her belly. “I beg of you, do not even
speak
of fish!”

“It occurs to me that a night with finer fare might be welcome.” Burke tossed a wink to Alys, and she guessed what he would suggest. When she was privy to his plans, she found she had no objection to his turning matters his way. Indeed,
this might lead Brigid to happiness, and Alys could hardly wait to see the result. “A friend of mine lives not far from our path. Indeed, if we rode with vigor, we could reach his abode this very afternoon.”

“If this keep had even an old hen to spare, ’twould be good for Lady Brigid,” Beauregard muttered protectively.

“Indeed.” Burke smiled. “I have no doubt that there is much that will be good for Lady Brigid at Crevy.”

Alys answered his smile with her own, hoping against hope that he was right.