Claire Delacroix (43 page)

The entire group fell, tumbled bonelessly across the floor, and bounced to their feet in four opposing corners. They held their arms up for applause, then turned as one to salute Ruarke.

Ruarke blinked, obviously not certain what he had done to merit such a salute, just as his chausses fell around his boots.

The assembly roared with laughter, as much at Ruarke’s astonishment as his abruptly bare buttocks. Luc choked back his own and felt Brianna’s shoulders quake. She made a suspicious sound in her throat as though she fought against wayward laughter. Luc did not dare look at her face lest they take one look at each other and laugh aloud.

For the jongleurs had chosen their victim well. Ruarke, who clearly took great pride in his appearance, turned beet red and struggled for his chausses with such dismay that Luc could not keep a single chuckle from escaping his lips.

Brianna dug an elbow hard into his ribs and Luc fought to control his response.

’Twas clear enough what that string had been. Somehow,
the crafty jongleur had untied Ruarke’s chausses while the knight was distracted.

Ruarke had retreated to one corner, his chausses safely over his buttocks again, but he had apparently just realized that the string was missing. He looked around himself most comically, obviously unaware that the entire hall watched his response.

Then Ruarke looked up and his lips drew to a thin line to find every eye upon him.

The bold jongleur taunted the knight from across the hall, flicking the string, much as one would tease a cat with a length of wool. He danced and cavorted, casting the cord at the knight as though daring him to lend pursuit.

His good humor spent, Ruarke roared in frustration and dove after the tormenting jongleur.

His chausses, of course, fell to his knees again. Ruarke stumbled, swore vehemently, tore off the offending garment, and lent chase in the buff.

“Saints above!” Brianna whispered unevenly. She bit her lip hard as though ’twas the only way to restrain herself. The very corners of her lips quirked and she clutched Luc’s fingers nigh tightly enough to break them.

The assembly howled as knight and jongleur toppled chairs and jumped across trestle tables. The rest of the troupe encouraged all to clap again. Women shouted lewd comments when they spied what lurked beneath Ruarke’s tabard and the man’s face grew yet more ruddy. He swore angrily and snatched at the man who made him look a fool.

The din in the hall was deafening as all of Tullymullagh laughed and laughed.

Except for one princess.

And the man behind her.

Finally, Ruarke laid claim to the tie from his chausses, though Luc suspected that only the presence of so many
around him kept the knight from retaliating for his embarrassment. ’Twas clear Ruarke was angered beyond all.

The jongleur wiped his brow as though vastly relieved, then danced away unrepentant. Ruarke glowered and retreated from the hall, no doubt to see himself more suitably garbed. Luc braced himself for another humorous assault.

But Rowan stepped forward and bowed low before the dais. “Lady Brianna, I have tried to prompt your smile and clearly failed,” he declared gallantly. “May you yet find a man to prompt your laughter.”

’Twas only then that Luc realized whose wedding Ruarke would be attending.

For the lady had not laughed.

“But I already have,” Brianna declared with a smile for Luc alone. “ ’Twas Luc Fitzgavin who made me laugh both first and most.” Brianna held Luc’s gaze, her wondrous eyes blazing with triumph.

They had done it!

Luc hooted with laughter at their success, then swept his bride into his arms. He swung her high; the assembly clapped with delight. Brianna giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Luc held her tightly against his chest, savoring the pound of her heart against his own.

He had won the lady’s hand in truth!

Luc turned to confront the delighted occupants of the hall. “Thus ends the bride quest,” he declared proudly. “ ’Tis time enough that Tullymullagh witnessed a wedding.”

And the entire household cheered as one at the prospect of that.

Red wine had flowed with abandon since they returned from the chapel, and the dancing had been vigorous. Rowan’s troubadours had been persuaded to remain. The lady Brianna’s eyes sparkled with delight.

Luc had seized every opportunity to kiss his bride soundly. ’Twas still a most satisfactory means of surprising her and Luc heartily anticipated the prospect of surprising her yet more this night.

However, Brianna would surprise him once herself. Evidently her shyness was overcome by the wine, for when he kissed her yet again, she mimicked one of his moves and slid her tongue tentatively between his teeth.

Luc gasped, Brianna giggled against his lips. Desire coursed through Luc in a wave.

He lifted his head with a snap, knowing that if he continued their kiss all would have more entertainment than they deserved. Indeed, Luc thought he might burst his chausses.

Brianna flushed slightly when their kiss ended so abruptly, as though surprised by her own boldness, then playfully tapped the end of his nose.

“Blue eyes,” she teased.

Luc snorted. “Aye, and you know the import of that well enough,” he mused, glancing pointedly her way. Luc cleared his throat deliberately. “Tell me, do you not feel the need to retire as yet, my lady?”

Brianna’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and she leaned against him, her voice low. “Luc! We cannot leave yet! What will people
think
?”

“Only that all is right between us.” Luc grinned as he securely captured her hand in his own. Brianna smiled into his eyes and Luc nearly urged her again to consider the timing of their departure.

’Twas then that Gavin rose to his feet and clapped his hands for the assembly’s attention. Clearly, he did not win silence quickly enough for his taste, for Gavin let out a bellow that Luc knew was long perfected on the fields of battle.

The assembly fell restlessly quiet.

“And now,” roared Gavin as though he still called over the din of celebration. “And now comes the moment for which we have all waited. My son has wedded the princess of Tullymullagh—” there were cheers all around “—and ’tis time enough he earns the fruit of that match.”

Luc’s eyes narrowed, for he was suspicious of his father’s intent. To what fruit did Gavin refer?

Gavin, though, turned to Luc with a smile and beckoned. “Come, Luc of Llanvelyn, come and swear yourself to me. The seal of Tullymullagh must be granted to the spouse of Brianna, as pledged to her sire and King Henry of England.”

The seal of Tullymullagh? Luc blinked. He had never thought beyond making Brianna his wife, though now he felt a fool for forgetting such pertinent details. Indeed, lordship of such a grand estate was a step closer to the life Luc had left behind, and that, combined with the necessity of swearing fealty to Gavin, gave Luc pause.

“Luc! He means to grant you the seal already!” Brianna’s excitement with the prospect was more than clear.

His reservations were as naught in comparison to erasing Brianna’s concerns for Tullymullagh.

Luc squeezed Brianna’s fingers and rose to his feet with purpose. He crossed the floor, the assembly parting before him as they had done for all three brothers just a few weeks past. Luc dropped to one knee before his sire, as Gavin gestured to Uther. The steward hastened to Gavin’s side, a bulging pouch within his grip.

Luc folded his hands together and raised them to his father, the pose not unlike an attitude of prayer. Gavin’s toughened palms closed over those of his son. The two men’s gazes met and held, and the assembly was silent as Luc’s fealty was solemnly sworn.

Then Gavin bent, as was expected, and kissed his son on
either cheek, grasping Luc’s hands and raising him to his feet once more. Gavin took the bundle from Uther and bestowed it with unexpected grace. ’Twas more bulky than Luc had expected and he fingered the contents in absent curiosity.

He realized there was not one but two seals within the bag.

Luc’s gaze flew to his father’s, that man’s smug smile telling Luc all he needed to know about the second seal.

“My word,” Gavin said silkily, “is not worth so little as some might believe.”

’Twas the seal of Llanvelyn Luc held in his grip! He did not need to look within the bag to know the truth. ’Twas exactly what he had come to Tullymullagh to make his own.

But, oddly enough, Luc felt no satisfaction in seeing his goal achieved. He realized that he had little interest in returning to Wales, though certainly he would see to his responsibilities.

But all Luc had ever desired was here, his entire future was here, within the walls of Tullymullagh.

Garbed in gold and green like a fairy queen.

Luc glanced back to Brianna’s shining eyes, his heart clenched, and he understood that the greater prize had been one he had never anticipated.

But the greatest prize of all would be the lady Brianna’s heart. Luc would waste no time in courting the lady’s affection.

Gavin snatched up his chalice in that very moment. “A drink!” he bellowed. “A drink to the health of the new Lord of Tullymullagh!”

A page offered a chalice for Luc and he lifted it high, deliberately holding Brianna’s regard. “Nay, we drink to the health of the Lady of Tullymullagh!” he cried and the assembly roared approval as their chalices rose high.

The solar was shrouded in mysterious shadows, the only light cast by a trio of flickering oil lanterns. The room seemed hushed in anticipation when the merrymakers abandoned the new couple with naught but their chemises and each other.

The pillared bed brooded in the corner, its linens freshly folded, its pillows plumped, its curtains tied back. Brianna eyed the bed, half certain it knew more of what would transpire here than she.

“Are you frightened?” Luc asked softly.

Brianna glanced back to find his arms folded across his chest, his eyes brilliant blue, his expression thoughtful. She forced a smile. “A little.”

Luc closed the distance between them with a single step. Just the heat of him so close beside her was reassuring. He lifted her hand in his, standing close but not touching her, ensuring that Brianna did not feel cornered by him.

“There is naught to fear,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her palm. “We shall proceed slowly and you have but to say that we must stop.” Brianna watched him, breathless, and caught her breath when he glanced up suddenly. “Did your dame tell you of this?”

Brianna shook her head hastily.

Luc’s easy smile was soothing. “Then, I shall have to do so,” he said easily, nodding to the bed before Brianna could think of what to ask him. “ ’Twas your parents’ bed?”

“My mother’s pride.” Brianna smiled in recollection. “A nuptial gift from her sire. And oh, how the servants cursed it!”

“Why?”

“As the keep was constructed, it had to be moved. My mother would sleep nowhere else, my father would only
sleep with her and he insisted upon sleeping in the finest chamber of the keep.”

Brianna’s smile widened. “First ’twas in the old hall, then in what is now the hall of this keep. Then onto the first floor, then finally, here.”

She met Luc’s gaze and her lips twisted. “ ’Twas said there was a merry celebration in the kitchens on the night my mother deemed its location in this room precisely right.”

“I can well imagine.” Luc chuckled and lifted strong hands to the pins in Brianna’s hair. He released her braid more gently than Fenella oft did and set to untying the lace. Brianna watched him as he worked, taking advantage of the moment to study his features etched golden in the light of the lantern.

“Your hair is long,” he mused. “You must not cut it often.”

“Nay.” Brianna shook her head. “Fenella trims the ends once in a while.” She watched Luc set the lace aside, his strong fingers making quick work of unfurling her braid. He spread her hair across his fingers and shook his head.

“The color of it is a marvel,” he whispered, flicking a glance her way. The admiration in his eyes stole Brianna’s breath away. “Look how it snares the light!” Luc spread her hair across his hands and Brianna looked in turn at the golden glints dancing within it. “I have never seen the like of it.”