Claire Delacroix (79 page)

“Alys, you think that I do not understand you, you think that we have naught in common, but that is not true. I see in you a shadow of myself, for you are as surely beneath your aunt’s thumb as I was once trapped beneath my father’s. It took me long to decide to cast off his demands and it cost me dear, but I cannot look at you without considering how welcome the change felt once ’twas done.”

Alys did not know what to say, but Burke continued on, apparently not expecting a response.

“I have spent my life, Alys, endeavoring to please my parents.” He studied the contents of the ale mug. “They are people of worldly ambition, their desires tangible and readily identified. They wished me to show skill with a horse. They wished me to become a knight. They wished me to wage war alongside my father. They wished me to win at tourneys. I managed it all, until my father decided whom I should wed.”

He sipped of the ale once more, then offered the mug to Alys. She shook her head and he continued to cradle the pottery in his hands. There was an undercurrent to his words that Alys could not name, but his manner was compelling. Indeed, there was no pretense in his manner—he spoke bluntly, leaving Alys no doubt this was the truth.

“ ’Twas last year,” Burke continued. “My father chose to
join Strongbow’s invasion and make a claim within Ireland for no better reason than his own greed. He chose his prey by its wealth and weakness, naught else. Tullymullagh was a fine prize and another piece of property to make his own. I was there for the siege, though I am not proud of what was done there.”

Burke clearly felt deeply about this matter—indeed, Alys could fairly smell his irritation.

“Why not?” she asked.

“The inhabitants had done naught to provoke a war. They simply had the misfortune to live in a keep my father desired to make his own. He was more brutal than necessary, as is his wont, and my squire—a boy of eight who had just come to serve me—died.”

Burke flicked a heated glance to Alys. “I did not know him overwell, I do not pretend that we were close. But ’twas a waste of a life. I daresay his mother was surprised by the vehemence of my missive informing her of his loss.”

“There is a saying of the last straw breaking the steed’s back,” Alys suggested softly.

Burke shrugged and turned back to the mug. “Aye. I had borne enough of my father’s ways. Perhaps I had been obedient too long. At any rate, the loss of the squire and the claiming of Tullymullagh left a sour taste on my tongue.”

Burke pursed his lips and sipped while Alys waited. “So you might imagine my dismay when the king came to consolidate my father’s claim and my father revealed that he intended Tullymullagh to be mine. Mine! This place of misfortune and greed, of early death and unnecessary cruelty. A gift ’twas, in my father’s mind, and all I had to do was wed its princess.”

“Brianna of Tullymullagh,” Alys whispered, remembering Burke’s comment that she had sent him here.

“Aye, Princess Brianna, the Rose of Tullymullagh. All
raised a cup to my good fortune.” Burke grimaced. “But I was not prepared to do this thing. I did not know the woman, I did not want her family’s holding. I could not conceive of a way to avoid this duty without confronting my father’s wrath. Fortunately, the lady was no more enamored of having her spouse chosen for her, and demanded the right to select from all three Fitzgavin sons.”

Burke frowned. “My eldest brother, Luc, has never taken any pains to evade our father’s wrath. He simply did not care and I had to consider this. While it never occurred to me to defy our father, it apparently never occurred to Luc to obey him. And Luc seemed to have survived well on his own.”

Burke looked down into the mug and swirled its contents. When he continued, his voice had softened, a tinge of marvel lingering in his tones. “When Luc arrived at Tullymullagh and first saw Brianna, there was a look in his eyes of such wonder that I was reminded of the day I first glimpsed you.”

Alys caught her breath and Burke shot her a crooked smile.

“Aye, Alys, but one glimpse was all it took. I stood in Tullymullagh’s hall and I watched my brother. I thought of you and the way you smile, I heard again the ripple of your laughter and I knew the true reason why I could not wed this woman.”

Alys’s heart was in her mouth. She feared suddenly that Burke would glance at her, that he would see her longing in her eyes as he often did read her thoughts.

But Burke did not. He deliberately set the mug on the floor of the room and leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the opposite wall. “Then Brianna dispatched the three brothers Fitzgavin upon a quest for her hand.”

“What was the quest?”

“She would wed the one who brought the gift to make her laugh loudest and longest.”

“ ’Tis a curious way to choose a spouse.”

Burke snorted. “So said Luc. He refused to go and won the lady’s heart as well as her hand. He also won my father’s wrath but lived to tell the tale.” His expression turned indulgent. “Luc and Brianna are very happy together. She is with child.”

“What did you bring her?”

Burke shrugged. “It does not matter. My heart was not in the mission and the lady guessed as much. As did my father, and he had much to say of the matter.” His lips tightened and he frowned anew. “He insisted I fetch another gift with haste, he insisted I win Brianna’s hand, but I refused.”

“You declined your sire’s bidding?”

“Aye, and he is not a man who takes well to defiance. He threatened me, and for the first time in all my days, encouraged by Luc’s example, I held my ground. Gavin bellowed and I yelled back. Then I left him standing there, stunned at the change in his obedient son.”

Burke glanced up at Alys, a bright gleam lurking in his eyes that stole her breath away. “I tell you, Alys, ’twas the most satisfying moment of all my days.”

Alys was amazed at his confession. “But your father disinherited you as a result?”

“Aye.” Burke held her gaze, his expression deadly serious. “Because I would have no woman by my side other than you.”

Alys felt her lips part.

“You may believe it, Alys, or not, as you choose. ’Twill change naught.” Burke took a deep draught of ale and seemed disinclined to continue.

Alys could not imagine that anyone would abandon anything for her sake, much less that this man would set aside all he might call his own. Montvieux was a prize, Alys knew it well.

“But what will you do?”

Burke’s lips tightened to a line that was yet more fierce. “I
had thought to wed, but you show an unholy resistance to the thought.”

Alys’s heart stopped.

Then it raced anew. Her fingers clenched each other at the conviction in Burke’s tone. “I meant, how will you live?”

Burke seemed untroubled by the uncertainty of his prospects. “I shall return to the tourneys. A few good years and I shall have enough to call my own. You need not worry for me.”

“But men are injured in the tourneys. You could be hurt!”

Burke almost smiled. “I have been hurt before, Alys. A man must be prepared to make a sacrifice for what he desires.” He set the mug aside. “He must even be prepared to face his greatest fear.”

The silence hung between them and Alys wondered what fear a knight like Burke might have. He had spurned a legacy with bold confidence, he faced Aunt with determination, he had battled countless foes effortlessly.

“What could you fear?”

Burke bowed his head. “That I shall lose the only battle that ever was of import to me.” He turned then, and Alys was startled by the bright glitter in his gaze. “That
you
should refuse me.”

Alys could not fathom that she held the power to make this man feel vulnerable, but his vulnerability caught at her heart as naught else had done.

Still, she had to voice her own doubts.

Honesty seemed to be in the wind this night.

“Burke, I am afraid that you only desire me, that there is no more than that between us. I am afraid that desire will have its due and fade away.”

Sympathy filtered into Burke’s expression but he did not move away. “Ah, Alys, if only I could face your fears for you and show you that they are as naught. You would see, Alys, that what you fear is as substantial as the morning mist.”

He made to withdraw, but Alys impulsively put her hand on his shoulder. She might be uncertain of what lay ahead, but in this moment, she did not want her knight to leave her alone.

Not yet.

For that, she was willing to take a small chance.

Burke stared down at her fingers splayed across his chemise. He did not move, as if Alys were a small creature who might be readily frightened and flee.

“Again you touch me of your own choice,” he murmured, his gaze intense as it rose to meet her own.

“I seldom am granted a chance.”

Burke smiled, lines wrought of laughter creasing his tan around his eyes. “I confess, Alys, that I am not inclined to leave the prospect of your company to fortune.” He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. “I shall try to change in this.”

“You will not vow it?” Alys could not help but tease.

Burke grinned outright. “I do not know if I can do it,” he confessed. “And I would have you know that when I pledge a thing to you, ’twill be thus.”

He sobered, tracing circles on the back of her hand with one warm fingertip. “You must understand, Alys. ’Tis my vocation to pursue any goal with diligence, and with greater diligence still when ’tis of greater import. To stand aside and wait is not a course I know well.” He looked up and his voice softened. “I ask only that you do not judge me too harshly if I fail.”

Alys could not look away from Burke, she could not take a breath, she could not shake herself loose of the desire that raged within her. She was amazed that this assured man would try to change to ease her fears. Alys could not stop her fingers from curling around Burke’s hand. He interlaced their fingers with a slow deliberation that melted her bones.

Alys’s gaze fell to the firm line of his lips. Her tongue ran
over her lips of its own accord. She watched Burke catch his breath as he watched her. His eyes shimmered like pale sapphires, but he did not move closer.

He was waiting, though it must nigh be killing him, and she loved him for it.

Indeed, Alys knew with sudden clarity exactly what she could do, what she
must
do. There would be naught left unsaid between them. She would face her fear and solicit one kiss from this knight, in this moment when he believed the sun rose and set in her.

Alys moved the napkin out of the way without unlocking their fingers, she slid along the sack of grain. She heard Burke inhale when she raised their interlocked hands to her lips. She kissed his knuckles, as he so often had kissed her own, enjoying the different texture of his skin against her lips and feeling very bold.

“This is for returning to tell me the truth of your first departure,” she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically uneven. “Indeed, for insisting I understood the fact of it.”

Burke did not move, though a flame lit in his eyes. She lifted one hand to Burke’s jaw, her fingers easing over the stubble gracing his chin, her heart pounding. She let one fingertip slide over his lips, and Burke sat as still as a statue.

Alys stretched, her mouth gone dry at her own audacity, and brushed her lips across the warmth of his. “This is for granting me your own bed and treating me with honor.”

Burke closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

To her surprise, Alys found his response to her touch reassuring beyond all. ’Twas good to know that she was not the only one quivering inside.

Alys kissed one corner of Burke’s mouth with slow deliberation.

“This is for your gentle manner with Brigid’s heart,” she
breathed against his flesh. He did not move, though the tension emanated from him in waves.

Alys boldly let her lips graze Burke’s as she moved to kiss the other corner of his mouth. “This is for ensuring I had better garb and less labor.”

Burke’s grip tightened on Alys’s hand when she paused before him, their noses a thumb’s breadth apart. Still he waited for whatever she chose to do.

Alys smiled and framed his face with her hands. She was shaking yet felt oddly exhilarated. “And this, sir,” she whispered, her gaze dancing over his intent features, “is for finding a candidate to become Malvina’s spouse in your stead. I would not leave such a bold deed unrewarded.”

Alys took a deep breath, then leaned against Burke’s chest and kissed him full on the lips.

Sadly, her aim was less than ideal, her technique so poor that she bit her own lip. Alys pulled back in a fluster and felt herself flush scarlet at her own inability to make a memorable moment of something so simple as a kiss. She could not look at the laughter that she knew must light Burke’s eyes.

“I am sorry,” she whispered disappointedly, her cheeks burning. “You must think me a witless fool …”

Burke touched her chin with a gentle finger, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Practice, Alys, practice is key,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming. “Little of merit is won on the first try.” That slow smile eased over his lips and Alys’s heart began to pound. Indeed, he still looked at her with wonder, as if she alone had hung the stars in the firmament.

“I had to return twice to Kiltorren to seek you, after all,” he declared, his lips quirking. “ ’Tis my chivalrous duty to leave my services—and my lips—at your disposal.”

Alys laughed and almost declined, but the warmth in
Burke’s gaze prompted her to try again. She was quite certain she had never blushed so furiously.

But Burke waited.

And his eyes glowed with an affection that made it impossible for Alys to think of doing anything other than kissing him again. She took a deep breath, she leaned closer, then hesitated in her uncertainty.

“Ease into it,” Burke advised with a quick lift of one brow. “There is no need for haste.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Unless you have another engagement this evening?”

Alys smiled at the way he endeavored to reassure her. “Nay.”

“Nor I,” he admitted, then winked. “Consider me at your mercy.”