Heather Graham (12 page)

She looked far older than her thirteen years. For the first time he realized that she had grown very feminine curves, and that her face was perfectly molded. Her delicate features gave her an air of dignified maturity as well, as did the green fire in her eyes, the hike of her chin.

“Milord?” she inquired, her tone regal and patronizing.

He smiled. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Milady. You are the king’s ward. Poor little French orphan, adapting to all things English! Well, I knew your father. And he would not want his daughter to mature into an insufferable brat! If you would play pranks on me, Countess, you had best take care, for you will pay the price for mischief with me!”

She didn’t move a muscle or betray the least fear. In fact, she had the audacity to appear aggrieved herself. She kept her tone low and cool as she replied, “You don’t dare touch me, milord. I am the king’s ward.”

“You don’t deny—”

“Milord, if you will please vacate my chambers?” she inquired softly.

“Vacate!” he exclaimed. “Vacate. Ah, milady—”

He didn’t know quite what he had intended—maybe just to strangle her then and there. But he had come halfway across the room to her when he heard his name called with a slight sound of alarm to it.

Called by the king.

“Adrien!”

He gave pause, steeling himself, and turned to face Edward.

“Have you a difficulty?” Edward asked. The girl’s companion, Monteine, stood uneasily behind the king. Adrien could well imagine that she had gone tearing down the hall, all but screaming that one of his knights was about to do some dire evil to her young mistress.

“I fear so, sire,” he said evenly, his jaw remaining tight. “I awoke this morning to find that my boots were filled with something other than my feet. Strangely, I believe the sweet young countess here to be responsible!”

Edward’s eyes quickly fell upon Danielle. Adrien thought that the king didn’t doubt it in the least, but he frowned, demanding, “Milady?”

“Milord king?”

“Are you responsible, as my Laird Adrien believes?”

“If he is such a warrior, why would he tremble over something in his boots? And, indeed, sire, why would I wish to bother with his filthy footwear?” she returned, her voice soft with amusement.

“Your Grace,” Adrien said flatly, “it seems milady is well in need of some discipline! She is favored by you and the queen, I am well aware. But sire, you have charged me with her welfare, and I’ll not tolerate such behavior!”

“She’s my responsibility
now
,” the king said with a sigh, “And therefore, out of your hands. But come with me, Adrien, I’d have a word with you.”

The king started out of the room. Monteine rushed toward Danielle, glancing uneasily and guiltily at Adrien.

Adrien should have followed the king. But he paused, then took a menacing step toward the girl. She didn’t recoil, but this time, he thought with a minor sense of triumph, she did seem to start and go just a shade pale.

“Milady, trust me. Try something again, and the king will not be about to protect you!”

“Alas!” she cried. “And what will you do now? Bring about the fall of Aville again? But it has already fallen—the king already holds it! Use trickery to take knights superior to your own strength and ability? Just what will you do?” To Adrien’s amazement, she suddenly took a step toward him, hands clenched before her tightly. “What a perfect life you’ve created, Laird Adrien, on the misfortunes of others. Perhaps things shouldn’t always be so perfect. You don’t deserve all you’ve gained through the ruin of Aville! You assuredly don’t deserve Joanna—”

“What?” he snapped.

“The king has summoned you!” she reminded him suddenly.

“What did you say?” he demanded anew.

Monteine, pretty brown eyes wide, hurried behind Danielle, holding her shoulders. “She said nothing, Laird Adrien—”

“I said that you don’t deserve Joanna. She is gentle, kind, and sweet. And you are just like that wretched lion on your shield, roaring, scratching, clawing—grasping!”

Once again, he found himself taking a step closer, lifting a finger beneath her nose.

“And you, milady, are quite likely to get a sound switching soon—with or without the king’s consent!”

Since he was itching to take her right over his knee, he determined to make an exit on that line, spinning after the words, and forcing himself to quit her chambers quickly. When he came into the hall, he was surprised to find Edward alone in the corridor—awaiting him there.

“She lived too long among the French,” Edward said with a sigh. “I should have demanded that Lenore send her to me upon occasion, but then, there were so many battles to be waged and while Lenore lived …” His voice trailed and he looked away, but then stared at Adrien hard again. “Perhaps you could go more gently with her.”

“More gently?” Adrien said incredulously. “That would all but invite her to come into my room while I slept and slit my throat!”

“Come now, it isn’t that bad.”

“She needs discipline, sire.”

“You were far younger than she when you brought about the fall of Aville. There were times then when my own men—as well as the defenders of the place!—thought
you
were in need of some discipline.”

“I had discipline ground into me by your chosen masters, milord.”

“Be that as it may, the girl remains my concern. I cannot let you discipline her, as it stands. However …” The king said, and cleared his throat, “that is a situation I wish to change.”

“I beg your pardon, sire?” Adrien said warily.

“Ah, my boy!” Edward clapped a hand upon his shoulder. “You and the lass are much alike, did you realize that? As much as I long to take a hand to her as well at times, I am deeply impressed by her fire and spirit. And loyalty! You must remember, Adrien, as yet, she’s spent much more time across the Channel then she has spent here. Remember what an adjustment it was to leave your family in Scotland? To serve a different king?”

Adrien stood very still for a moment. “I remain loyal to David of Scotland. Even though I serve you and he is your prisoner.”

“I have dealt fairly with him.”

“I know. And so I remain your servant, Edward,” Adrien said quietly.

“Indeed. My servant. And that is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Aye?” Adrien said, growing evermore concerned and careful.

“I wish to bestow on you land worthy of the finest man! And a wife of the fairest form and beauty!”

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. “I had meant to speak with you for some time on the matter of marriage, milord. I—”

“I have pondered this for some time now,” Edward said, firmly interrupting him. “I wish to betroth you to the Lady Danielle d’Aville. She becomes your responsibility to discipline as you will. If you’re not ready for marriage you may wait, as long as you are legally betrothed. Not only is the fortress at Gariston an excellent one, the land is some of the richest in the country, the sheep are plentiful, the grain grows with greater vigor than any weed!”

Marriage! To the green-eyed little witch who was out for his throat? “Edward!” he gasped, “I meant to beg for the hand of the Lady Joanna—”

“Ah, Joanna! Sweet, fair, and lovely. But not for you, my boy! She’s too gentle—you need a touch of fire—”

“So you’d give me a … young shrew?”

“Surely, lad, you cannot be blind. Danielle is young, but she already grows to a greater beauty than even her mother possessed. Aye, she’s a spitfire, lad, but she’ll keep you intrigued, when your blood would cool from the hunger for a less vibrant lady. She’s young, but mind you, older than many a bride. Danielle is now thirteen, nearly fourteen. Philippa was but twelve when we wed. You needn’t marry for a few years, if that is your wish, but the betrothal will give you the power of regent over the lady and her land. And there’s more, naturally. The Earl of Glenwood, overlord to milady’s English holdings, is recently deceased of the plague, his wee babe and wife along with him. The title and holdings remain vacant, and those would be my gift to you upon such a betrothal.”

Adrien felt the blood drain from his body.
Most men would crawl through broken glass and kiss the king’s feet for eternity to hear such words. Many men had begged the king for the hand of his French ward. Outside himself, looking upon the ragged boy his father had tried so hard to teach and train, this was an offer of power and wealth he had never imagined. The title of earl! What incredible riches and heritage he could pass onto the grandchildren of Carlin MacLachlan …

But he had sworn that he would wed another.

“I shall never again be offered such a great boon, your grace,” he said quietly, “but I must decline. You see, I love Joanna.”

“Bah, son! She is a dear friend! An advisor, a mentor, lad, but not for you. Adrien, I believe you are forgetting something.”

“Sire?”

“I am the king. I refuse you permission to wed Joanna.”

“Sire,” Adrien protested. “I have served you well—”

“And that is why we will say no more at the moment. Think on my offer—take the lady to the castle at Gariston. When we meet again, we will speak of it then. Make haste to leave this place now! There are more and more deaths being reported! The plague spreads wantonly here!”

With those words, the king hurried by him.

“I’ll be damned if I’ll do it!” Adrien promised the air in the king’s wake. “I do love Joanna!” He did, in his way, care for her with all his heart. She was his best friend. She was gentle, kind, beautiful, in truth, everything desirable in a wife.

While he was being offered a young spitfire who longed to gouge out his eyes. Lenore’s wild daughter. In his eyes, she remained too young for marriage, but she was already beautiful. Indeed, she was a young temptress just beginning to realize the power of her face and form, one who could dazzle, flirt, and manipulate when she chose, and make noble lads follow her about the castle with their tongues dragging upon the dirt. She was arrogant and superior. The greatest temptation in the king’s offer might well be the power to put the lady in her place.

How deeply dismayed she would be to find herself handed over to his keeping! Ah … tempting!

But she would spend her days despising him.

While Joanna loved him.

He had vowed to wed Joanna.

But he swallowed hard. To be an earl …

T
HE DAY WAS BEAUTIFUL
when at last they set out. For Adrien, however, it promised to be a tedious ride. He was accustomed to long marches, often over enemy territory, with foot soldiers and wagons trailing along as well. This was different. He rode with his squire, Daylin, a freckle-faced lad of fifteen eager to prove himself, and to serve as well. Ten of his men-at-arms accompanied them, along with another ten soldiers who had ridden in to do service from their young mistress’s own county of Gariston. Lady Jeanette and Monteine were with them, along with a seamstress and maids, a Doctor Coutin, who had been imported from Aville to continue to tutor the lady and administer to her and her household, and a French cook who had once served Danielle’s mother and was reputed to create sheer magic out of food. There were all manner of carts and wagons containing the lady’s belongings and those of her women. Although the ride should have taken no more than a day, it would take two since they were so heavily encumbered.

It didn’t seem to help that the young countess seemed as impatient as he to move along quickly. She rode a fine horse, a bay mare with a white splash on the forehead, nearly sixteen hands high but far more slender and elegant than the destriers Adrien was accustomed to. He was riding Matthew again, with Mark in tow along with the baggage—Luke and John remained at the palace at Westminster.

The old Roman roads, at least, were good. No heavy rains had fallen lately, and the paths were broad and clear. Adrien began leading the party, but became so preoccupied with his own thoughts that Danielle d’Aville soon rode ahead of him. Scowling, he urged Matt forward.

“My lady, an escort is intended to keep you from danger,” he told her.

“There’s no danger to be found in the countryside,” she assured him, not slowing in the least and barely turning her head to reply.

He gave Matt a nudge with his heels and came abreast of Danielle’s mare. “Cutthroats and thieves and creatures of evil design,” he told her sternly, “can be found anywhere, my lady.”

“I haven’t seen any,” she said coolly, “other than those who have been ordered to accompany me.”

“Milady, you cannot imagine what other evil creatures may exist, since you are traveling with an escort of armed men!”

“Then I would imagine that my escort of armed men could protect me riding five feet behind as easily as they might riding five feet forward.”

Ah, just once! Just once he’d love to have her over his knee! Just once …

He struggled fiercely for patience and control. “Get back behind me, my lady. And if you are even considering causing the least bit of trouble, remember, the king is no longer with us for you to hide behind, and I am in command.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she told him smoothly. “I would never hide behind the English king.”

“It was well that he came to your rescue when he did, my lady, or else you would have felt the force of my wrath.”

He was nearly abreast of her then and she turned her head back just slightly. Emerald eyes narrowed sharply, disdainfully. “You’d not have touched me, milord.”

“And why not?”

“I am a countess.”

“I am a count.”

“I am a ward of the king.”

“Ah! So, you are still trying to hide behind him!”

“I never hide behind anyone, milord.”

“If you don’t believe in hiding, then tell me the truth. Did you put the honey in my boots?”

She paused, giving the matter thought. “Aye, in a way. It was actually an accident.”

“Honey accidentally came to be in my boots?”

“Aye.”

“And pepper came accidentally to be in my wine?”

That startled her a bit, but she quickly recovered, “The pepper was quite a while ago. And it was not an accident. Nor do I keep it a secret that I consider you an enemy. You should have the good sense to stay away from me!”