Claire Delacroix (23 page)

Ismay? She thought he had bedded
Ismay?
Luc could not completely quell his smile. How could Brianna even imagine that he could be tempted by the likes of Ismay? The very idea made Luc unwillingly chuckle.

“Oh!” Brianna’s eyes flashed and she made to swat his shoulder. “Do not mock me!”

Luc snatched her hand out of the air and folded it within his own. She fought his gentle grip and fairly spit sparks at him. “Brianna!” Luc spoke with low urgency and bit out his declaration. “I did not bed Ismay.”

“So you say!”

“Where is she, then?” Luc challenged.

Brianna scanned the loft and Luc knew she saw only men
and boys. She flicked a glance to Luc, as though she wanted to believe him but did not dare. “But I saw her with you last eve. You held her hand!”

“She held mine,” Luc corrected. “Ismay was lonely last eve and Dermot not to be found. I spoke with her, ’tis true, but I assure you, my lady, I left Ismay in the hall when I retired.”

The princess studied Luc with more than her usual intensity, as though she would discern his every secret in his eyes. Luc did not dare break her gaze, for he wanted beyond all else for this woman to know he was honorable.

Though he did not dare to consider why ’twas of such import to him.

“You did not bed her?” she asked hopefully.

“Nay!” Luc shook his head with resolve. “I did not. How can you imagine I would even be tempted?” He grimaced comically and was relieved when Brianna’s tension visibly eased.

“You are uncharitable to say as much,” she charged, though ’twas clear she thought the opposite. A decidedly mischievous gleam lit her eyes. “I shall have to tell Father Padraig.”

Luc grinned down at her. “Now there is a threat to curdle a man’s blood. Your priest is dour, indeed. Does he
ever
smile?”

Brianna shook her head, then her brow puckered with concern. “But what of Ismay? She did not come to our chamber to sleep, Luc.” She squeezed his fingers with concern. “Do you think something is amiss?”

Luc’s heart swelled that Brianna not only believed him, but trusted him to resolve her concern.

“Perhaps she found Dermot,” he suggested with a shrug. “And they found a corner together. Last evening, she seemed in need of … 
reassurance
.”

Brianna’s lips quirked at Luc’s discreet choice of word. “Yet you gave her none.” There was no question in her tone, no doubt of his intent, and Luc found himself relieved.

’Twas just because he took pride in his credibility, no doubt. “None,” he agreed, just to ensure matters were clear.

And the lady smiled.

The change in her regard warmed Luc like the sun appearing after a hard rain. He could not look away from the shine in her eyes. Brianna’s hands fell upon Luc’s chest, the steady pounding of the rain hammered overhead. He could smell the sleepy musk rising from her skin mingled with the rose scent she favored and he guessed that she had leapt from bed to make her accusation.

Before he could reflect further upon the warm intimacy of that, a squire rolled over and snorted loudly in his sleep. The lady started and looked for the source of the interruption.

’Twas only a moment that she broke his gaze, but ’twas long for Luc to realize the lady’s folly.

“My lady, you should not be seen here,” he counselled quietly. “It could be misconstrued. I would not have your reputation sullied within your own home.”

Brianna sighed and wrinkled her nose. “But I do not want to go back to my chambers. And no one is up as yet.”

“Then, come,” Luc invited, gallantly offering Brianna his elbow. “I have the perfect solution.”

“And what might that be?”

“Let us walk in the rain while I grant you the tale you are owed this day.” Luc summoned a smile for Brianna, knowing this telling would not fall easily from his lips.

But he had promised it to her, and he would keep that pledge.

T
he rain fell around them, a mist had claimed the distant peaks and vales, and all within view was etched in myriad shades of grey. The orchard was silent but for the muted patter of raindrops on deadened leaves and the echo of their footsteps.

Brianna was fiercely glad to be sharing this moment with this man. She wanted very much to hear his tale. Luc guided her gently by the elbow until they halted beside the stone wall, then the heat of his hand fell away.

The River Darrow chortled far below, a chill whisper of winter in the rushing water. The lands of Tullymullagh swept into the distance, veiled by the rain, but Brianna looked at her companion. She shivered, folded her arms beneath her cloak and waited.

When Luc flicked a vibrant blue glance her way, she knew he was to begin. Anticipation rolled through her, for Brianna guessed that this was no trivial tale. She was honored that Luc had chosen to confide it in her.

Luc’s words came in a low murmur. “ ’Tis true enough that once I was a knight,” he acknowledged, propping his hands upon his hips and surveying the distant hills with unseeing eyes. “And I suppose, in some way, I must yet be. ’Tis meant to be a pledge a man makes for his entire life
and, though I have left that life far behind me, the words I once vowed yet color all I do.”

Luc paused for a long moment, as though he sought where to begin. “You must understand that Llanvelyn was all that I knew of life, for through my childhood I never left its lands. My sire was a man of distant repute and when he rode into Llanvelyn’s bailey in my eighth summer, I was dazzled by his person. He was more richly garbed than any man ever I had seen, his steed was larger and prouder than any of my limited experience.”

Luc grimaced. “Perhaps ’tis a reflection upon the simplicity of my life thus far that I was so readily impressed. Perhaps I did not want to believe that the whispered tales of cruelty could be true of my own blood sire. At any rate, when he declared he had arranged for me to train for knighthood at an estate adjacent to Montvieux, there was naught that could have kept me from going.”

He flicked a glance to Brianna, his lips twisting wryly. “ ’Twas beyond belief, that this man would sweep up his forgotten child and set that boy upon a path to win his spurs.”

“Like the tale of a troubador,” Brianna commented, and Luc’s answering smile warmed her heart.

“Indeed.”

“But where
is
Montvieux?” Brianna asked, uncertain of the connection to Luc and Gavin. “Why squire you there?”

“My sire’s second and current wife is Margaux of Montvieux,” Luc explained. He leaned his hips against the wall, the move setting his gaze on a level with her own. “When my dame passed away, Gavin won Margaux’s hand and they brought Burke to light.”

“And Rowan.”

“Nay.” Luc shook his head firmly. “Rowan is the result of one of Gavin’s dalliances.” He met Brianna’s gaze somberly.
“With a woman in a travelling troupe of entertainers.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” Luc grinned. “Though Margaux had considerably more to say of the matter. She is a woman of strong opinions and Rowan’s delivery to Montvieux at four years of age, when his dame died, was the reason Margaux finally cast Gavin out of her bed. ’Twas a vicious battle, from all accounts.”

Brianna frowned in recollection. “But when King Henry was here, Gavin said that Rowan was with Margaux.”

“Aye, she took a fancy to him, and to her credit never blamed the child with the circumstance of his conception. She raised Rowan as her own and they are yet close. ’Twas Margaux who saw Rowan named for her hereditary estate, much against Gavin’s wishes. He is not heir, for that is Burke’s honor, but carries the appellation ‘de Montvieux’ all the same.”

While Brianna puzzled over this, Luc shook his head. “But, Rowan must have been yet a babe, if indeed he had been conceived, when Gavin came to Llanvelyn. Both Burke and Margaux were unknown to me in those days. I knew only Pyrs, the steward of Llanvelyn, who treated me as a son though he himself had never wed.”

Luc pursed his lips. “Pyrs was not pleased by my father’s sudden arrival, no less by my departure. I was so delighted, though, and he held his tongue.” Luc shrugged. “I was but a boy and did not realize the reason for his reservations.”

“He knew the manner of the man Gavin was,” Brianna guessed.

Luc nodded, then continued. “Gavin and I rode to Cardiff, then sailed to Normandy. We were met by a grand party of knights and squires who escorted us to the luxurious keep perched on a cliff high above. Gavin left me there, to that
lord’s care, and I trained more determinedly than any of the dozen boys consigned to squire within those walls.”

“You wanted to please your sire,” Brianna suggested softly.

Luc’s intent glance told her that she had found the truth. “I wanted to be worthy of his continued attention,” he admitted quietly, then frowned anew. “Though he never returned. In two years, though, I earned the right to serve as the lowest of the lord’s own squires.”

Luc paused for a heartbeat.

“ ’Twas then that I met Tyrell. He was another of the lord’s squires, a year older than I but markedly less driven. To be sure, Tyrell had a grand legacy awaiting him as the eldest son of a mighty lord. But he was a merry lad, always interested in a jest or a prank. He even could coax the stern marshal to chuckle. He seemed to take naught seriously beyond his own amusement and I had never met the like of him.

“It seemed we were as dissimilar as chalk and cheese, yet Tyrell took me beneath his tutelage in the lord’s service. He aided me when I knew not what to do, he took pains to show me court manners of which I knew naught. ’Twas evident to all that I did not share their privileged background, but Tyrell cared naught for my rural past. It became clear that we actually held many convictions in common.”

A half-smile of recollection tweaked Luc’s lips. “We were inseparable, Tyrell and I, and we pledged—one night when some scheme of Tyrell’s had landed us in disfavor together—that we would serve together for all time once we earned our spurs.”

Brianna grinned and leaned against the wall beside Luc. She was very aware of the strength of his leg so close to her own, no less the heat emanating from his flesh. “ ’Tis difficult
to imagine you possessed of such whimsy,” she teased and Luc’s grin broadened.

“I was young,” he declared and winked. “Tyrell, like you, had a great fondness for bard’s tales and chansons. Over the years, we spun grand tales of the damsels we would rescue, the fortunes we would win, the castles we would besiege. Six years we trained together, six years we drank of the conviction that the world of men is a good and just place.”

Luc looked at his boots and his voice dropped low. “But that was a childish conviction, destined to be lost.”

And he halted his tale for a long moment. Brianna did not dare interject her opinion of that. He was serious, too serious for her taste, his thoughts clearly on some painful memory.

Brianna feared that she had asked too much.

She thought Luc had forgotten her presence, he stood still for so long, but he abruptly threw back his head to stare into the distance again.

There was a suspicious shimmer in his eyes.

Words fell quickly from Luc’s tongue now, his tone flat as he recounted the tale. “We were granted our spurs on the same St. John’s Day, in the midst of a grand fěte whence six of our companion squires were also granted their spurs. The lord knighted us with his own blade, Tyrell’s sire had swords forged for each of us, our patron granted us each a fine steed.”

Luc’s voice softened slightly. “Mine was a dapple, name of Grisart.” He swallowed visibly and continued. “I had never known such generosity and, on that day, I truly believed that I had joined the ranks of a fine and exalted elite.”

“And your sire’s gift?”

Luc snorted. “He was not there and he sent naught.”

Brianna was outraged that Gavin would have missed such
an event in his son’s life. “How could he not attend? ’Twas a day of great import to you and one he had set in motion!”

Luc glanced at her and away. “He cared naught for
my
training. ’Twas all for his own ends. He had some grand scheme to win alliance with this lord by entrusting me, his eldest son, to the care of that man’s household. Evidently the plan had failed, for the lord yet loathed my sire. ’Tis a testament to that man’s fine character that he expended the coin to train me, all the same.”

Brianna could well imagine that this lord had immediately discerned the difference betwixt Luc and Gavin. “He must have seen promise in you,” she suggested.

“Or determination.” Luc’s gaze burned into her own. “I wanted those spurs, my lady, I
wanted
them with all my heart and soul. I believed that their absence alone was what kept me from this gifted circle of the nobility, from the respect of a family such as that Tyrell knew. Indeed, I could not have been more wrong, but I was young and had much to learn.”

“What happened?”

“Tyrell pledged immediately to his sire’s hand and I, of course, followed suit. We were to be together, as you recall, and I had no demands upon me.”

Brianna smiled slightly. “Aye, you two had damsels to save and keeps to storm in the name of righteousness.”

Luc nodded but did not smile. “Tyrell’s sire dispatched us to support a distant cousin in Norman Sicily. ’Twas the best of possibilities, to our thinking, for our destination was distant and exotic; our responsibility solemn in representing Tyrell’s own sire. It seemed our glorious fates were to begin more quickly than could have been hoped.”

Luc kicked at the dirt and his tone turned grim. “ ’Twas not exotic. ’Twas hot beyond all else and filthy, and we both were briefly ill. We marched south from this cousin’s holding
and thence across the sea to Ifriqiya where the battle raged.

“The true horror began when we rode first into battle, for the slaughter was no game. Men with whom we had ridden died, and they did not die nobly. ’Twas all over a patch of land unfit for any purpose but prized for its location. The Moors desired to connect their far-flung kingdom, the Normans wanted it to control trade in the Mediterranean Sea.