Bride Of Trouville
This comte could hardly be worse than MacBain had been, and she could bear anything for the duration of his time here. Anything, to regain a measure of the peace and freedom she had found, and safety for her son. If she refused this man, her uncle would only find her another, one who might remain at Baincroft forever. And, in the meantime, he would take Rob away. God forbid that should happen.
Anne nodded once. “Very well, if you vow to leave my Robert to me, I will do this for you.”
“Gladly promised.” He nodded, all affability. “I knew you would see the wisdom of it.”
She quickly ordered one of the maids to go above and clear the master chamber for guests, and have an additional room readied for her uncle. There was no time to do more.
The door to the hall swung open. A stalwart young lad wearing rather costly-looking raiment marched through it as though he owned the keep.
Two knights entered behind him, their spurs scraping the floor beneath the thin layer of rushes. Shining basinet helms, jingling mail aventails still attached, rested in the crooks of their left arms. Massive swords hung in scabbards at their waists. A formidable sight, these two. Anne resisted the urge to step back.
The boy halted a short distance in front of them, bowed formally to her and her uncle and announced, “The comte de Trouville, my lady, Lord Hume.”
Anne had no trouble discerning which knight bore the tide. He would be the dark one. If his air of absolute supremacy had not proclaimed it, then his exemplary attire would have done. He wore a knee-length surcote of deep madder lake—near the color of ripened plums—emblazoned with a black-and-silver device. His sword bore several magnificent jewels in the hilt, and Anne marked not a dot of rust marring the links of his mail. Travel dust would never have dared settle on such a one.
His companion paled rather literally by comparison. Fair-haired, garbed in sky blue trimmed with white, the other stood a hand width shorter and not so broad. Even were he as richly turned out, Anne would never have mistaken him for his lord. He lacked the commanding presence and assuredness of the other.
Still, they both appeared so grandly dressed to impress, she felt like asking where the tournament was.
Her uncle gave her a little shove from behind. “My lord comte, may I present my niece, the Lady Anne.”
The comte extended his right gauntlet to the boy who promptly tugged it off. Then, gracefully, he bowed and Anne automatically extended her hand. He raised it to his lips and barely brushed the back of her knuckles. He would have missed the contact altogether had she not shuddered at his touch.
“Welcome to Baincroft, my lord,” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt. Many men had visited her father and her husband, but never in all her days had she laid gaze upon one such as this.
Dark as sin, he was. Midnight hair hung to the edge of the curved steel gorget that protected his neck. Long-lashed eyes the color of polished walnut regarded her with frank curiosity and not a little admiration.
Anne felt her face redden under his scrutiny. She wore one of her older gowns, a russet linen, and no headrail at all. MacBain had required her to don those old-fashioned wimples, since discarded, and she owned no other head coverings. No matter. So much the better if Trouville thought her unfashionable. He would leave her in Scotland where she belonged.
For a man coming off a tedious journey, he arrived remarkably groomed, clean-shaven, combed and exuding no unpleasant odors. Did he never sweat?
His features, while refined, held none of the soft comeliness she would have expected on a courtier. Nor did his form. He appeared battle hardened and muscled by frequent exercise, judging by his carriage, the width of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist and hips. Devastatingly handsome and self-confident described him well. Frightening described him better. Dealing with this one would take some doing.
He straightened and finally released her hand. “My lady, may I make known to you Sir Guillaume Perrer, knight in service to me.” He waited until the man made his bow. “And our herald this day, my son and heir, Henri Charles Gillet, Esquire.”
Anne regarded the serious young face that mirrored the father’s. Young for a squire, she thought. He looked hardly more than thirteen. His manners seemed as impeccable as his sire’s.
“Henri? See that fellow there beside the stair? He will show you to the chamber where you and your father will bide.”
As an afterthought, knowing well the constant hunger of growing lads, she added with a smile, “We sup in one hour. I trust you like sweets?” He rewarded her with a sudden grin that changed his whole appearance.
When she returned her gaze to the father, she noted an expression of relief, almost as transforming as the grin on his son. “Will you sit and take wine, my lord? You and Sir Guillaume must be weary.” She gestured toward the dais.
“My thanks, but I would go above with my son and disarm.” He turned to his knight. “Find the barracks, Gui, and join us here for the evening meal.”
Anne hurriedly took herself to the kitchens to give orders for extra food. Then she sent Simm, her steward, to locate her son quickly and send him to her chambers.
During supper, the comte held the seat of honor, her uncle on his left and she, at his right. Young Henri served his father and stood behind his chair. His man and her uncle’s attendants sat at the lower tables with her priest, just above the steward, and others of the household.
Never once did the noble lord comment on the meager fare dished out to her unexpected guests. Neither did he remark upon the state of the keep itself. While scrupulously clean, Baincroft boasted none of the frivolous amenities he must be accustomed to in his own. Surely he would have no wish to remain here for long, she thought with satisfaction.
Best of all, he made no mention of her missing son. Robert, by all rights, should have joined them at table, or in lieu of that, served as page.
Anne noted that, unlike Sir Guillaume, Trouville did not cast disparaging looks toward either the hall itself or her people. If he thought himself consigned to a large hovel full of backward peasants, his lordship hid it well and appeared quite content to be exactly where he was. Quite polite of him, she decided.
She accepted the offerings the comte held out from their shared trencher. He spoke of the weather during the crossing and the vicissitudes of their travel overland with a touch of wry and unexpected humor. Anne made certain that her soft laugh greeted his words in all the correct places.
Everything considered—and despite his fearsome appearance—the comte seemed a pleasant enough man. But Anne dared not deceive herself. His wittiness surprised her, but deception she would expect. He did, after all, want her hand and her property. Why would he not act charming at the outset? MacBain had done the same at their first acquaintance. It had not lasted long.
After the meal concluded, the comte asked to speak with her privately. Girding herself for the imminent and unavoidable proposal, she calmly invited him to share a cup of wine in her private solar just off the hall.
“All will be quite proper, my lord, for it is not my bedchamber,” she assured him as they entered. “I find it convenient to conduct business in the solar during the day, due to the better lighting. We also sew and spin there, for it is warmer and better lighted than the hall itself. I have rooms on the floor above this for my private use.”
He offered his arm. “I would never question the seemliness of it, Lady Anne, for I see that you are a model of propriety.”
Her face warmed at his ready compliment. “You are very gallant, my lord, seeing as how you hardly know me.”
His free hand covered hers which rested on his sleeve. “A condition I hope to remedy in short order.”
The moment they settled in the high-backed chairs beside her fire, he said, “I know that your uncle spoke of me before I arrived. Are you agreeable to a match between us, my lady?”
Welladay, this one obviously did not believe in dallying about once he made his decision.
“Aye,” she said after only a moment’s hesitation. She met his gaze directly and, she hoped, without expression of any kind. “I am agreed.” Damned if she would thank him for the honor, however.
He downed the contents of his simple chalice and set it on the floor. Then he reached for her hands, set her own cup aside, and drew her up to stand before him.
Without warning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, putting a seal to their understanding.
Anne remained motionless, shocked by the warmth of his mouth on her own and the tingling pleasure it evoked. He released her and stepped away. They touched no part of each other now, but she could feel him still.
His compelling gaze held a measure of such satisfaction, he must know how easily, and how deeply, he had stirred her feelings with what should have been a formal gesture.
This would not do. She blinked her eyes to break the trance and shook her head to clear it. If the man could disable her thoughts with but a clasp of hands and a kiss of peace, what mischief might he wreak when it came time for real intimacy?
Nay, this would not do at all. Now she must beware herself, as well as him.
Thank goodness he would not remain here long.
Chapter Two
“Your uncle has the contracts already prepared, I do not doubt,” Trouville said. He inclined his head and quirked his mouth to one side in a conspiratorial grin. “I’ve watched him scribbling away like a maddened clerk every night for the past week.”
“He does seem most anxious to promote this union,” Anne returned, wondering whether the comte knew why. If so, did he object to being used to advance her uncle’s ambitions? Trouville did not strike her as a man to be used unless he thought he would gain more than he gave. Well, he certainly would do that in the event of her marriage to him.
“Need we wait for banns?” the comte asked. “Have you a priest who will accept our word there is no impediment? Hume could vouch for us on that.”
Anne wished they could have done with it immediately, but she knew better. “My uncle will likely want as many to witness this as he can gather.”
The comte’s dark brows drew together in a frown. “I must return to the coast in three days to meet a ship, and I would have it done ere I leave. There is no need to make a May Day of this. It is, after all, your second marriage and my third.”
Then he seemed to think better of the abrupt announcement. “Unless, of course, you wish to make some great event of it.”
Anne quickly shook her head as she struggled to hide her relief that he would go so soon. “Oh, nay, I prefer not to do so.”
Her ready concession earned her a smile that made her heart skip. “Do you feel need of a longer time to prepare your son? I failed to consider that Did he avoid our presence apurpose this evening?”
“Oh, nay, my lord. He knows nothing of this as yet How could he, when nothing was settled between us until now? Robert will give you no problem. That I promise.”
“Fine. We need not wait longer, then,” he said firmly.
“As you wish,” she agreed. “I shall speak to Father Michael tomorrow morn. He can perform the ceremony the day after, if that suits you.”
He raised a brow and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his weight on one foot. Anne thought the pose a practiced one, but she did not mind his preening. He was extremely good to look upon and seemed to know it. “You have no reservations, my lady, to wedding a stranger of unknown means? Would you not care to know what I bring to the bargain?”
Anne knew well the power of flattery, though she had found precious little chance to employ it these past years. With a shy duck of her head, she employed it now. Staying in his good graces could only benefit her cause. “You are extremely well-favored, my lord, and courageous. Obviously, you are not destitute, and you have traveled far to honor me with your suit. I married a stranger before for no cause other than to alter my single state and because my father arranged it. How could I do less now when I have more good reason than I ever dreamed?”
“How sweetly said!” he remarked as he raked her full-length with a warm and suggestive appraisal. “I begin to think this troth of ours heaven-sent.”
Or hell-bound, Anne thought. “Indeed,” she replied with a small tilt of her head.
Anne could swear the man’s chest expanded as she flattered him. Most likely his head did, as well, she thought wryly.
“Ah, lady, how you humble me,” he remarked. He sounded incredibly sincere, but Anne doubted anyone had ever humbled this fellow. He wore his arrogance well, however.
Even as he reveled in her compliments, he gave as good as he got. “I do pray your son proves as agreeable to the match as does his winsome dam. If so, I envision this event as a high point in my life with not a thing to detract from it.”
Anne cast about for a reason why Robert had not joined them at board. The comte must wonder at it since he men tioned him again. “Robert meant no disrespect to you this eve, my lord. ’Tis only that he is very shy of strangers. And not feeling well. I shall speak to him upon returning to my rooms.”
“He sleeps by you and your women, my lady? A lad of ten?”
Anne shook her head as though she shared his amusement. “Of course not! He did reside in the lord’s chamber, as was his right. But now that you have come, I ordered his things removed to my anteroom.” She lowered her voice as though to share a secret. “Robert believes he is to sleep there as guard to me while we house our unfamiliar guests.” She laughed lightly to insure that he appreciated the small jest and did not take offense.
“How thoughtful you are of a young man’s pride,” he said. His face softened and Anne had to stifle a sigh. The very looks of the man made a woman weak at the knees. And the cause of it had little to do with fear. She truly must be wary of her own reactions to him. This was her first dealing with a man who attracted her. She had never before met one.
Once they were wed, Anne knew she dared not refuse him his rights. At the back of her mind, she even wondered if it might not be quite tolerable. Tolerable or not, she must please him, of course, and send him away contented. The thought of that necessity did not trouble her nearly as much as it should.
She must see that no occasion arose while he was here to prick his temper. A joint of meat underdone, a cup of wine leaning to vinegar, a kitchen drab who screamed at his rough sporting. The comte would react no differently in those circumstances than had her father or MacBain. But the fact that she only had to keep this one happy for less than three days, comforted her immeasurably. She could do that.
Anne cleared her throat and raised her. chin. “Day after tomorrow, then, and we shall marry so that you may be off to the coast the next mom. But I would you told my uncle yourself, my lord. He may think I am behind this rushing to wed.”
The comte laughed aloud and Anne blushed. She realized he must think she had just admitted to eagerness.
“I shall assure him it is I who would put paid to the deal! And I do thank you for considering my need to leave you so suddenly after our wedding, Anne. I may use your familiar name, may I not?”
He smiled that charming smile of his again, and reached out to touch her face with one long finger. Anne stiffened at the impertinence, and then made herself relax. He was her betrothed now, after all. She must allow touching. And indeed, it did feel rather nice.
“You may call me as you wish, my lord.”
“A saint’s name seems appropriate for so kind a lady. My Christian name is Edouard, should you care to use it. I wish that you would.” He spoke very tenderly as he said the words. Oh, a practiced charmer, this one, but the sweetest fruit could hide the most rotten of cores. There was a known fact.
“Edouard.” She allowed a subtle promise of pleasure to enter her voice. “Yours is a strong name. It means protector , does it not?”
He nodded once. Then he crossed his arms over his wide chest and regarded her as though considering something further. “I have decided ours will be a love match,” he said in that determined way of his.
“Oh, have you now?” Anne replied, laughing merrily in spite of herself. This unexpected tease of his delighted her. The man seemed perpetually amused at life in general and she liked that. Though he wore a serious look at times, as he did now, Anne thought he used it only to enhance his dry witticisms.
“Yes, that would be best, I believe.”
She sobered a little, determined to match his worldly nonchalance. “Ah. Well, that would explain our day-long betrothal and hasty marriage, should anyone care to question it.”
He nodded and shook a forefinger at her. “That, too! Good thinking. But no, I mean that you should love me. Sincerely.”
Anne bit her lips together, trying to stifle any further laughter. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before speaking. “Love you. I see. An unusual idea. Why on earth would you want me to do that, I wonder?”
The comte shrugged and held out his hands palms up. “I think it would bode well for our happiness. Would you rather hate me?”
She swept past him to pace the room, uncertain what to say next This sort of exchange was new to her. “Well, of course I would not hate you! But be reasonable, my lord—Edouard—I hardly know you yet! Are you so imminently lovable, that you assume I will—”
“Oh, I shall be quite lovable,” he interrupted with a sensuous half smile. “Though some might argue the fact, I do know how to be.”
She did laugh then. “I daresay you do! What of me, then? Shall you love me as well? How do you know that I haven’t the blackest heart in Christendom, hmm?”
He grinned full out and raised his brows. “Because I know the owner of that particular heart, my dearest, and she is not you! And to answer your question, yes, I shall love you.”
Anne shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Well, love or nay, we’ll not lack for laughter, will we! What a notion, to wed for love. You do not strike me as particularly sentimental. Tell me, when did you make this decision, to love and be loved? And by a wife, of all people?”
He walked to the solar window and looked out, his back to her. “I suppose I should say it was the moment I beheld your sweet person. But, in truth, I have thought on it for years. Would it not be unique?”
That it would, Anne admitted. But it would hardly matter one way or the other, if the two people concerned were living apart in different countries. Then again, that might be the only way such a love would survive. That must be his reasoning as well.
It did occur to her that he might have put forth this offer of love to keep her faithful to him while he lived away from her. On that count, he need not worry in the least. She had no intention of engaging the attentions of any other man.
“You are one who truly believes in love, then?” Though she asked the question playfully, Anne really wanted to know his thoughts on it, for she did not think the emotion existed between men and women, other than in songs and poems. It certainly had not existed within the realm of her experience.
“Absolutely, and without question,” he answered readily, as he turned from the window. “I do know that many caution against combining love with marriage, but I have endured two marriages without it, and—”
“And I have, one,” she added, interrupting him. “But if you never knew love, when did you decide yourself capable of loving?”
“When I looked upon the face of my son after his birth. Did you not love yours?”
“Aye, of course, above everything! But that is not the same thing, surely! Loving a child is not the same.”
“Not at all the same,” he agreed. “But it does prove that a deeper feeling, that a caring for someone else more than oneself is entirely possible. I would like to feel that for a woman. For you. If you could return the favor and love me, likewise.” He brushed a hand over her cheek and she could not resist leaning into the caress.
Then she looked up at him. “I think love is not given upon conditions such as that, my lord. One either loves, or one does not.”
He tapped her nose with one finger. “We will make our own rules, you and L No unrequited love for us. You will love me, and I shall love you, all unreserved. I have decided.”
The man was a little mad, or else he engaged in all of this foolery to make her laugh and lighten this cursory proposal of his.
That sparkle of amusement in his eyes at the moment told her which it was. He was showing her the way of things within his exalted circle of acquaintances, no doubt. Country-bred she might be, but she had heard tales aplenty of how the more worldly nobles behaved. Bantering about love and such was considered a right wondrous pastime at court, so the traveling bards proclaimed. It had been so since the time of Queen Eleanor.
What did it matter? He could prate on about it all he wanted. ’Twas pleasant enough debate, after all, and highly entertaining. Once he returned to France, he could regale all his friends at the court with tales of how smoothly he had wooed and won his Scottish wife, and then left her longing for him. What did she care, so long as he departed soon and let her be?
If he wanted games for the two days he abided here, she would play. “Love, it is, then!” she said with her most elegant curtsy.
“Shall we go and share our happy news with the others?” he asked.
“With all haste,” Anne agreed.
He placed her palm on his arm as they returned to the hall. And she smiled for all she was worth. Not for a sure place in paradise would she allow her Uncle Dairmid to think she had bowed to his threats out of fear, even though she had. Men pounced on fear, she knew that. “This is my choice,” her look told her uncle as clearly as words could have done.
The trouble was, that in Dairmid Hume’s sublime fit of joy and copious felicitations, he did not seem to care one way or the other whose choice it was.
Anne consoled herself that she had gained much more by this arrangement than her uncle. She would have a husband in absentia, no further dealings with Dairmid Hume as a guardian, and her son would remain with her. Aye, everything about the situation suited her at the moment. She could not have hoped for more.
Now all she had to do was to keep Rob away from her uncle and the comte until they quit Baincroft and returned to France. Assuming that Robert would cooperate.
That worry alone threatened her hard-won, and well-practiced composure. Her lad had a mind of his own and more pride than was practical.
The next morning, Edouard woke in a happier mood than his usual. Sun streamed in through the arched window, its warmth mellowing the breeze that accompanied it. Even the weather welcomed him to this place. If he were superstitious, he might consider it a good omen. But his cynical nature warned him that Scotland’s weather was notoriously fickle, and so might be the lady. For now, he would give her the benefit of the doubt. Once wed, he would give her good cause to remain sunny, Edouard thought with a wry smile.
Anne of Baincroft did not strike him as a guilt-riddled girl obsessed with the myth of original sin as Henri’s mother had been. Nor did she exhibit the hesitancy about marriage that his second wife had shown. If Anne loved another man as Helvise had done, she certainly concealed the fact well. Her words, expressions, and attitude indicated that she was exactly what she appeared to be, a bright and beautiful widow who welcomed a very advantageous match.
Such natural beauty and grace proved more than he had hoped for at the outset. Her laughter was like sweet music. And her enthusiasm for a short betrothal was definitely an added boon.