Claire Delacroix (93 page)

“
Non
? Perhaps ’tis too cold there for the bees.
Ma petite,
at Crevy, you may break your fast on honeycomb each morn. ’Tis a fine holding my son commands, and all its treasures lie at your feet.”

“Oh, ’tis a fine holding indeed!” Lady Brigid granted the lord of Crevy-sur-Seine a smile that fairly curled his toes.

Ah, to think that Burke had plotted this and he had stepped into the scheme so unwittingly. Guillaume chuckled as he tore into his own bread.

“
Maman,
I believe we owe Burke a debt.” He recalled Brigid’s earlier confession and realized that his friend’s own ends would be served by this courtship. But Guillaume was more than willing to aid Burke, in gratitude for choosing Crevy to showcase Brigid’s charms. “And I know precisely the way to see it paid.”

Now that Alys’s hand was securely within his own, Burke could not help thinking about Montvieux. As pleasurable as Crevy could be, and as delightful as the companionship was in this place, he began to chafe under the weight of the last uncertainty before himself and Alys.

She must meet his mother.

Burke was not looking forward to the confrontation, for he knew his mother would find no woman an acceptable mate for him. He did not care for Margaux’s opinion, though he did not want Alys hurt by some cruel comment. And he did not want to leave Crevy before Alys’s concerns for Brigid were laid to rest.

Yet ’twas becoming cursedly awkward to be without coin. Burke had never been without anything to his name, and he found the experience more troubling than he had expected. He wanted Alys adorned in silks, he wanted a ring of gold upon her finger, he wanted to exchange vows before a priest—but all of these endeavors took the expense of hard coin.

And he had none.

’Twas ironic that he had spurned his legacy for the chance to win Alys’s hand, yet now Burke wished he held Montvieux, if only to see his lady garbed and pampered as she deserved. It chafed upon him to see her wear the same kirtle day after day. It troubled him even more to know that there was naught he could do about it.

Alys accepted whatever came to her hand, happy in small victories and shouldering burdens with ease. She had a strength
that could not be shaken by worldly lack, and ’twas a trait that Burke greatly admired. Indeed, the fact that she chose to be with him, despite his having naught, was an endorsement of rare power. It meant Alys would be steadfast by his side, regardless of the state of his fortunes. Burke found that seductive indeed, even if the lady had yet to confess her feelings. ’Twould take time, Burke knew it well, and he would wait, secure that he had already claimed the prize of her trust.

’Twas Alys who had taught him the treasures that could come to him with patience.

’Twas indicative of his thinking that when Burke found an errant piece of silver in his saddlebags the day after their arrival, he had promptly spent it in Crevy’s village on a gift for Alys. He waited only for the perfect moment to present his gift.

At least part of her could be garbed like a queen.

But still there remained the sole disagreement that continued between them. Alys did not welcome the risk of the great tourneys, yet Burke knew that he could not face year upon year of mock warfare. He would make his victories quickly and withdraw from competition, for indeed, he grew no younger.

And ’twas only the great lords who could afford to offer the prize Burke coveted beyond all else—a manor, however humble, to call their own. For truly, a life unfettered by responsibilities lost its allure with Alys by his side.

There would be children soon enough, if they two continued in such merry fashion. They must be wed, the children must have the certainty of a happy home with a full larder.

Aye, the tourneys beckoned, though hurdles aplenty blocked Burke’s path.

First, Guillaume had to propose. Whenever possible, Burke urged Guillaume to greater boldness, for that man’s manner was cautious enough in matters of the heart to ensure a decade-long courtship.

Burke did not have a decade to ensure Brigid’s nuptials,
and so he was more than pleased when—a mere five days after their arrival—Guillaume dropped to one knee before Alys at the midday board.

“Lady Alys, would you do me the honor of acting as representative of your family?”

Another piece moved into position, another obstacle crumbled in the path to his own nuptials! Burke barely restrained himself from hooting with glee.

“But Brigid is the daughter of the Lord of Kiltorren,” Alys protested. “I am merely my uncle’s ward.”

“But ’tis of Lady Brigid I would speak.”

“Oh!” Alys gasped in sudden understanding. Guillaume grinned and Brigid flushed mightily. Lady Crevy clicked her tongue in approval and cast a conspiratorial wink Burke’s way.

“I would ask your indulgence in permitting me to wed your cousin, Lady Brigid of Kiltorren.” Guillaume presented a nuptial contract to Alys with a bow, but she turned to her cousin.

“There is only one opinion of merit in this matter,” Alys insisted. “What do you say to this suit, Brigid?”

Brigid smiled, clasped her hands together, and gazed at Guillaume with adoration. “Oh, I say aye, Alys. I would like very much to wed Guillaume.”

“My son will treat you well,
ma petite
,” Lady Crevy assured her, “or I shall give him such a shake.”

Brigid smiled at Guillaume. “I know.” Guillaume grinned back at her, and Burke smiled to see his friend so happily smitten.

“My family can have no protest against your circumstance,” Alys continued, unfurling the document with a frown. She turned to Burke, a question in her lovely eyes as she offered him the deed. “You know more than I of such matters. Would you?”

“I should be honored,” Burke agreed smoothly, wondering whether his lady could read. He pledged to teach her, if she
had the interest, and cursed the family of Kiltorren for denying her yet again.

Then he cast a mischievous glance at his friend, still kneeling before Alys. “Shall I negotiate on behalf of the bride?” he suggested wickedly, and Guillaume snorted.

“You shall see me beggared, no doubt!” he retorted. “Though ’twould be a small price to pay for such a lady’s favor.”

“Guillaume!” Brigid blushed, yet she still reached to kiss his cheek when that knight rose to take his place beside her.

Lady Crevy clapped her hands. “Then all is settled, and most favorably. There is but one deed we have to see done.”

Burke could not imagine what that might be, and he noted that Alys was similarly perplexed. The others, however, looked so smug that Burke knew they had been in league.

Lady Crevy gave a summons and a bevy of servants spilled into the hall. A minstrel plucked a lute for the procession and Burke quickly noted that they carried a small trunk between them. ’Twas a simple one, though he was surprised when ’twas laid before Alys.

Alys clearly did not know what to make of the presentation. Burke silently vowed that he would ensure that she did not find the receipt of gifts so startling.

Aye, his lady had lived too long with too little.

“This is for you, Alys,” Lady Crevy declared. “You may consider it an early wedding gift or, indeed, a gift of gratitude for introducing your cousin to my son. Either way, ’tis a gift I hope you enjoy.”

Alys glanced at Burke, but he knew his expression supplied no answer. Indeed, he was powerfully curious as to what Lady Crevy might have chosen.

“I thank you,” Alys said, but the older woman laughed.

“You do not even know what ’tis!”

“But, Lady Crevy, you offer us such hospitality already. ’Tis too much that you grant gifts as well.”

“Pshaw.” Lady Crevy flicked a hand, and the most senior maid in the group tipped back the lid of the trunk. The entire company leaned closer to look.

Burke saw only a vibrant shade of purple before two maids reached into the trunk. They lifted out a garment, indeed, ’twas a kirtle wrought of fine woven wool. Its hue was deep violet; its hem and cuffs were ornamented with gold and red embroidery, with the girdle woven of the same rich hues.

’Twas a kirtle of wondrous workmanship and one that would flatter his Alys’s coloring well. Burke sat back and watched her eyes widen. The only marring of this event was his own wish that he could have granted Alys such a gift sooner.

A chemise of snowy white linen was presented next, followed by artfully knitted stockings of the same undyed hue. Red garters were included, with a veil of palest mauve, and a plain golden circlet. Alys gasped when the servant reached into the bottom of the chest and shook out a cloak of the same hue as Burke’s own, though this one was lined in silver squirrel fur instead of his black.

There was a conspicuous absence of one item of garb and Burke’s smile broadened, for he had no doubt that Lady Crevy had heard of his own acquisition. Indeed, ’twas as if she ordered all to match his gift.

The time was ripe for him to present it.

“I cannot accept such richness,” Alys protested, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “ ’Tis far too much …”

Lady Crevy, as Burke might have anticipated, would not take nay for an answer. She grasped Alys’s hand. “I will not hear your protest, Alys, and I grant you no choice.”

“But ’tis too generous! Burke, you must aid me.”

“Nay, Alys. Lady Crevy does as she wishes alone.” He
smiled at his lady. “And as I also believe the gift is well deserved, you will not win my protest.”

Alys shook her head at him. “You are no help at all!”

“ ’Tis what friends are for,” Guillaume argued.

Burke captured Alys’s hand in his. “Lady Crevy, I must add my own thanks to Alys’s own. Your taste, as always, is exquisite.”

“But I cannot …”

“Alys, this gift is one from the heart,” Lady Crevy insisted. “Indeed ’tis well earned by both the happiness you bring to Crevy with Brigid’s presence and the happiness you bring to a knight I have loved as my own son.” Lady Crevy smiled encouragement. “Take the gift,
ma petite,
for you shall need every advantage to face Margaux de Montvieux.”

Alys turned to Burke with alarm in her eyes and he could not halt his grimace. “ ’Tis true enough, Alys,” he admitted heavily. “ ’Tis true enough.”

Later that evening, in the chamber they had come to share, Alys noted Burke’s pensiveness.

They had talked of tourneys at length this week, comparing the merits of one against the other. Alys liked that Burke always spoke to her and took her readily into his confidence.

But on this matter they differed. Burke had an annoying inclination not to think of himself as mortal and so would choose the largest contests, which boasted both the fattest purses and drew the most experienced competition. Alys feared for his hide. But each time she voiced her objection, Burke was so pleased
by
her concern that the discussion seldom proceeded any further.

She wondered now whether he considered their path anew, since Brigid’s match was secured. He had been troubled ever since Lady Crevy’s comment about his mother.

She braced herself for another difference of opinion on the surety of his skills. “Is something amiss?”

“Aye, one could say as much.” Burke admitted. He pushed a hand through his hair and surveyed Alys as if he would divine her thoughts. “We must go to Montvieux, and I would rather ’twas sooner than later.”

Dread rose in Alys. “And I must meet your mother.”

Burke winced, his expression a perfect echo of Alys’s feelings on the matter. “Aye, ’twill not be a joyous occasion. The tourneys call, Alys, though we must visit my mother first. Now that Brigid is settled, would it trouble you if we rode out in the morn?”

Alys’s mouth went dry. What would she do if Burke’s mother scorned her? She had no dowry, no lineage, no talents that would make her a compelling choice of bride.

Indeed, ’twould be surprising if his mother did
not
disapprove.

“How far is Montvieux?”

Burke shrugged. “A long day’s ride. If we begin early, we can make Montvieux village and seek accommodation with the miller by tomorrow eve. Then with Sunday’s first light, I shall ride to the chateau. Perhaps if I find my mother on her way to Mass, she will be in a more charitable frame of mind.”