Bride Of Trouville

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.

He had teased her to set her at ease last evening, and she had responded in kind. Though she could be coy, he had seen immediately that she possessed none of the traits of the sophisticated jades he was used to. He had found himself going half-serious with his talk of mutual love. Would it not be astounding if she really—

“The keep is a ruin, but this lady is not, eh?” Henri interrupted his thought with a sly grin. “She is right handsome for one so old.”

“Impertinent whelp,” Edouard admonished as he splashed his face with water from the basin. “Shake out my blue cote-hardie and find the belt, will you? No, the silver one.”

Baincroft must seem rather impoverished by Henri’s standards, Edouard thought. His son had never lived in so modest a place as this. Not that it was in ruin as the boy described, but it did lack the well-appointed comforts and rich trappings of their various estates in France.

And after many occasions of sharing palatial accommodations with the kings they had attended, Henri must believe he had fallen on mean times indeed. But Edouard knew this sound old castle, small though it was, possessed great possibilities.

Lady Anne kept a spartan household, though there were woolen blankets aplenty for warmth, and victuals plentiful enough so that no one suffered hunger. She prepared plain food, missing the customary spices save for salt, and served it up on humble trenchers and unembroidered linens. Economy was good in a wife, though it would no longer be necessary for Anne to employ it.

The old-fashioned square keep boasted only three stories above ground level, all its rooms accessed by a spiral stairway. Some wise ancestor had thrown up a high wall to add protection, creating the spacious ward where stood several outbuildings. All the stone, inside and out, remained undressed and not even whitewashed.

His wealth could change all of that. He would meet the ship this week and receive all the items his factor could gather and transport from the holdings in France. His belongings could make Baincroft a right habitable abode for the next few years, a place suitably grand for a lady such as Anne. By the time her son claimed it for his own, Edouard planned to have built her a home fit for royalty on her land adjacent to this.

Would she welcome grandeur, or would she remain the unpretentious, dignified soul that she seemed in spite of it? He secretly hoped that she would stay as she was. She wore a glow of serenity, a mantle more dear than any he had acquired thus far. Though even now, Edouard could feel a calmness seeping into his soul to replace the constant watchfulness and suspicion.

He straightened the hose points he had just tied to his belt and stood waiting for Henri to assemble the rest of his clothing. “You approve of the lady, then?” he asked his son.

“Dare I not?” the boy returned, holding the velvet garment out to be donned. “Would it matter? It did not the last time.”

“No,” Edouard admitted. He should have cuffed Henri for his sarcasm, but the lad did come by it honestly. Instead, he softened the truth with a smile of affection. “However, I would appreciate your support in this.”

Edouard sighed and laid his hands on Henri’s slender shoulders. “Son, you are nearly a man now. I have done you ill by remaining unattached so long. Who is to teach you manners and the way with proper ladies if I do not take a wife? True, I could foster you with another lord, one with a wife who would take on the task, but I trust no other to train you up as I will do.”

Henri nodded. “I would learn from the best there is, Father.”

“Not above boosting the old man’s pride, eh?” Edouard did feel immensely proud that Henri felt this way. He brushed nonexistent lint from the shoulders of his son’s finely stitched jack. “So! Shall we go below, break our fast, and charm my bride-to-be?”

“Why not?” Henri replied. “At least she does not serve up sheep guts as I have been told they do here. One must like her for that, I suppose.”

Edouard did cuff him then as they laughed together.

As they descended the stairs, he wondered whether Lady Anne had her own son convinced this marriage would be a good thing. A half-grown lad could harbor jealousy of a mother, hatred for a man who would replace his dead father, and resentment for anyone who had charge of his lands these next few years.

She greeted them, all gracious and soft-spoken, as they entered the hall. “My lord. Henri. Do come and eat. My uncle left Baincroft some two hours past.” She raised her brows and offered Edouard a conspiratorial half smile. “He wants musicians for the wedding feast. And better wine.”

“Now, why does that not surprise me?” Edouard laughed softly and placed her hand on his forearm. He pressed her fingers and felt her answering squeeze.

All the while, he congratulated himself again on his decision to wed this woman. Upon first glance at her the day before, he had known he would have her. She stirred his blood rightly enough, but her appeal extended beyond the obvious. He detected a remarkable strength, that inner calm, and a bold decisiveness surpassing any he had yet beheld in a woman. All that, without any evident aggressiveness. He wondered how she managed it.

She did resemble Hume’s daughter, Honor, somewhat. Only Lady Anne’s lovely gray eyes shot no sparks of hatred and fear when they met his own. Her inviting lips, which he had pressed for as long as he dared in their kiss of peace, offered only smiles and sweet words. Her musical voice did wondrous things to his senses, soothing and exciting at the same time. He could just imagine the gentle purr of it when he...

“When will we meet your son, my lady?” Henri dared ask. Edouard should have chastised him for speaking without leave, but he wanted the answer, as well. He added his questioning look to Henri’s.

She bit those rose-touched lips together for an instant before she answered. “Later today, I trow. Robert went a-hunting with my steward. I fear we did not expect your company yestereve and today found our meat in short supply. You will forgive him, won’t you? Rob does feel so responsible for Baincroft’s hospitality.”

“He has recovered from his illness then?”

“Illness?” The lady appeared confused for a moment and then fixed a bright smile. “Oh, aye, he is well enough to hunt! He seemed determined to go.”

“That is admirable of him.” Edouard assured her. He had noticed a small break in her poise and wished to restore it She must be concerned about her son’s reaction to the news that she would marry. “Lord Robert must provide you much comfort since you lost your husband. When he returns, I must commend your son for his thoughtfulness in seeing to our needs.”

The lady merely smiled, nodded and indicated they should sit down. This time he motioned for Henri to join them at board. There were hands enough to fill the cups and the food already lay on the table before them.

Edouard had hardly touched his ale cup when a heavyset man, one he’d seen in the stables, rushed in at a lumbering run, gasping, “Lady—come quick—our laddie—north wall!”

Lady Anne issued a sharp little cry and leapt up from her seat. Abandoning all grace for speed, she raced across the hall and out the door. Edouard followed at a run, as did Henri and the rest of the hall’s inhabitants.

When they rounded the keep itself, there were already a number of people staring up at the small figure atop the corner merlon, arms raised to the sky. A large hawk circled above him and the boy looked set to leap toward it.

“Mon Dieu!” Edouard whispered as he started for the steps to the wall-walk.

Lady Anne grabbed his arm and hung on as he rushed past her. “Wait! There’s no time!” Then she released him and put the fingers of one hand to her lips, emitting a sharp, earsplitting whistle. Then another.

The lad turned. For an instant, he wavered, arms wind-milling before he finally caught his balance. Edouard’s heart stopped. He envisioned the broken little body lying in a heap on the other side of the wall.

Anne beckoned frantically and the agile little fellow scrambled down. No one in the bailey moved as they watched the boy tear heedlessly along the open wall-walk, a narrow path of rough wooden planks protected on one side by the stone wall to which they were attached. On the other lay an unguarded drop of some sixty feet. A collective groan emerged from the crowd as he reached the steps and clambered down.

Lady Anne sank to her knees in the dirt. Edouard marched forward and grasped the boy by his shoulders. He could not stop the flow of harsh reprimands. “Do you see what you have done, you reckless lackwit? Look at your lady! She is nigh in a faint with worry you would break your foolish neck!”

He shook the little beggar sharply and then dragged him before Lady Anne by the scruff of his neck. An old hound rushed forward, growling, but the boy silenced him with an upraised palm. Ignoring the dog, Edouard forced the boy to his knees in front of her. “Apologize at once!”

Edouard could not bear the pale fright that stole Anne’s calm, the leftover terror in her soft gray eyes. Neither could the lad, apparently. With a look of absolute contrition and the most gentle of gestures, the grubby young hands cupped her face and patted. When he removed them, there were streaks of dirt along her cheeks, mingling with the wetness of her tears.

Her lips firmed and her eyes narrowed. “To my solar with you! Go!” she demanded. She did not shout, but clipped each word distinctly in a low tone that did not bode well for the little daredevil’s backside, Edouard thought. The boy and the old hound trudged off as ordered, heads down and contrite.

He took her arm and raised her up. “You are extremely overset, my lady. Shall I deal with him for you?”

“No!” she exclaimed with a lift of her head. “He would not comprehend you—your French.”

Edouard raised his brows at that. “I know my English. But I had no mind to do much speaking. The rascal is incredibly heedless and he needs be taught a lesson.”

She pierced him with a look of the purest hatred he had ever seen. “Beat anyone who belongs to me and I will kill you!”

Before her shocking words registered, she had whirled angrily away from him and followed the boy around the side of the keep.

“Father, did you hear? She threatened you!” Henri whispered in awe.

“Yes, I heard. Apparently Lady Anne is very protective of her people.” A good thing to be, Edouard supposed, but her vehemence seemed unwarranted. “Go along, Henri, and finish your meal. You have sword practice in half an hour.”

Sir Gui approached as Henri left. “My lord, I need a private word with you.”

“What’s amiss, Gui?”

The knight fell in step with Edouard as they walked slowly back to the keep. “I overheard the lady. You should take her threat seriously, you know.”

Edouard laughed. “And why is that? You think her able to follow through?”

Sir Gui hesitated only briefly before speaking. “Yes, my lord. The people here are different than we are used to. Rough, not quite civilized, I think, and more prone to violence. Her first husband died under very peculiar circumstances. By her own hand, they say.”

Edouard halted. “Who spouts such rumors? I would have his name. His tongue, too, if he cannot keep it still.”

“I cannot give his name, for I do not know it. Last eve I slept in the stables instead of the barracks. My mount seemed ill and off his feed, so I took the empty stall near his. I awoke late in the night when I heard two men speaking together in low voices, as though secrets passed between them. One laughed and asked the other if he thought the French count might also succumb to the old lord’s ague in due time.”