Claire Delacroix (10 page)

“What then?” Evangeline propped her hands on her hips and flung her hair over her shoulder, her pose so splendidly indignant that I had a mind to continue what we had begun. Her eyes snapped though, a warning that she would not be readily seduced.

Still I tried. I ventured closer, extended a hand. “We would be lovers, Evangeline, and our partnership would be untainted by petty pledges and words with no meaning. We would be together…”

“For so long as you wished to rut with me, or until I carried your child, and then you would cast me aside like so much offal. I may have been raised upon the edges of Christendom, but I know well enough how a man such as you treats a woman.”

“Do you?” Now, I was angered. I pointed to the bed. “And by your own experience you know that I would treat you so poorly?”

She had the grace to flush, though she did not change her stance otherwise. I closed the distance between us with a single step and framed her face in my hands. She caught her breath, her eyes darkening, and I brushed my lips across hers, loving how she shivered.

“What is of import is trust between us, Evangeline, and this magical passion that we coax from each other. What is important is that we remain together.” I kissed her again and she trembled, her hands landing upon my shoulders with evident reluctance. Her mouth softened beneath mine, though, and I thought the battle half won.

Until she tore her lips from mine and retreated, rubbing her hand over her mouth. “You cannot change the truth with kisses.”

“The truth is that we should live well…”

“Of course.” Her words were bitter. “You are clearly acquainted with the fair treatment of harlots. A woman would be a fool not to accept your offer of hours abed and coin in exchange for her favors, so long as you had a desire for her.”

Her arch tone infuriated me. I had never felt the need for the ongoing presence of a woman before, I had never made such a proposal, and she spurned my offer as insufficient.

I would not be so fool as to repeat the proposal, or worse, to fatten it. I understood that I had been rejected, though I doubted her stated reason was the genuine one.

I donned my chausses, lacing them with haste, then my chemise and tabard. It was clear that she would not see sense in this, though I was more annoyed with her than I knew I should have been.

“You make much of little,” I informed her when I was fully dressed. She stood like a warrior queen, arms folded across her chest and features set, unashamed of her fury or her nude splendor. It was clear that my touch was no longer welcome and my tone sharpened as a result. “You have already met me abed. What difference if you do so again?”

“The difference is that I am here, among my own people and in my own home.” She jabbed a finger through the air in my direction. “If I followed you, when you abandoned me in some distant land, as undoubtedly you will, I would be left to beg for kindness from strangers.”

“You have a low opinion of me, based on so short an acquaintance.”

Evangeline laughed, though the sound was not a merry one. Then she spoke with a harshness I had not known she possessed. “Tell me that you are not a man who sees to his own pleasure first. Tell me that you are not a man who cares solely for his own gain.”

I glared at her. “It is only natural to ensure one’s own needs are met first.”

“And there is a sentiment to warm a woman’s heart.”

“You have no grounds for criticism,” I appealed. “I came in pursuit of you!”

“You came in pursuit of the
Titulus Croce
and do not pretend to me otherwise.”

“A man might be persuaded that you had taken the
Titulus
to ensure that you were pursued.”

She smiled, her gaze knowing. “A vain man might, perhaps.”

“Then, why did you take it? Why did you welcome me to my bed with such gusto?”

“Perhaps I had my own reasons for accepting what you offered so readily, reasons you need never know.”

I had then the odd sense that she toyed with me, though I could not imagine how or why. She was enigmatic again, her expression inscrutable. “Surely, the
Titulus
was not so necessary as that for the ceremony this night? The old laird clearly found some acceptable substitute, if he showed a version of the relic twice yearly until five years ago.”

She said nothing, her darkened gaze fixed upon me.

“I know,” I added with deliberate care, “that the genuine
Titulus
has been gone from Inverfyre for fifteen years.”

Evangeline turned her back upon me and donned a chemise. She tied the neck with such finality that I knew we would not meet abed again this night.

Or ever.

And that troubled me far more than I liked.

* * *

V

“Why now?” I demanded. “Why did you seek the
Titulus
after all these years?”

Evangeline granted me a sly glance. “If I were a man, what would you speculate?”

I smiled. “Mercifully, you are not.” She scowled at me, so I folded my arms across my chest and pondered the question. “If you were a man, I would suspect vengeance of you, or perhaps some scheme to ensure my disadvantage. I would suspect that you had stalked me apurpose, perhaps followed me from Ravensmuir, specifically to steal the
Titulus
. I would speculate that you seduced me apurpose, to distract me from your intent. Were you a man, however, that particular strategy would have been less successful.”

She smiled coolly and arched a brow, her expression telling me that I had guessed aright. My heart chilled, for I had never met a woman capable of or desirous of planning such a feat. I was troubled and intrigued.

“Do you know what is the root of our fortunes here?”

I recalled both Inverfyre’s seal and its reputation. “Hunting hawks. You trade in peregrines.”

“We did, because the cliffs around this keep have always been rife with them. For centuries, the falcons have returned to nest at Inverfyre, and their eyasses have been collected by our falconers, trained and sold to dukes and lords and kings.”

I waited, for this could not be all of the tale.

Evangeline met my gaze. “Fifteen years ago, the falcons became impotent.”

“What is this?” I was astounded.

“They still return, they still nest, but their nests are barren. It is the mark of divine disfavor and the root of our poverty. Without young falcons, we have naught with which to trade; without trade, we have no coin, no food, no garb.” Evangeline’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Few crops flourish at Inverfyre, even sheep disdain these hills. Without the
Titulus
, the Lairds of Inverfyre and even Inverfyre itself shall fade to a distant memory.”

To say that I was somewhat skeptical of this conclusion would be a vast understatement. “You cannot believe that the absence of a relic is at the root of your woes. Evangeline, this is the manner of superstitious nonsense believed by peasants. There must be another reason.”

She folded her arms across her chest, as if willing me to persuade her. “Name it.”

“I do not know. Perhaps their favored prey has become scarce.”

“The rivers are choked with waterfowl, which the falcons favor, simply because the predators’ numbers have dwindled so far.”

“Perhaps the nests are not so attractive as afore. Wild things oft are dismayed by the close presence of men.”

“We are fewer than before, and the perimeter of our village has reverted to wilderness. By your logic, there should be more falcons.”

“I am no falconer! I cannot name the reason, but to blame the absence of a religious relic makes little sense. I say there is an earthly reason.”

“And I say you are wrong. As I now possess the
Titulus
again, your opinion is of little merit.”

I was reluctant to comment upon that assertion. Indeed, I thought a distraction would be timely, lest she ponder the matter overmuch.

I caught the end of one tie of her chemise and pulled her closer, liking how her eyes widened in awareness of me. “And what would you pledge to me if I should prove you wrong?” I kissed the side of her neck lingeringly.

“Why should I pledge any thing to you?” She caught her breath and, encouraged, I urged her closer to the bed.

“You could grant me the
Titulus
as my reward for discovering the true reason for your misfortunes,” I suggested.

Evangeline pushed me away. “You have no shame, do you? You have had your desire of me and of Inverfyre.” She lifted her chin. “Perhaps it would be prudent for you to leave.”

I was stunned. I had never been told to leave, certainly not without a threat at the portal or without a parting kiss. “You have had your desire of me, as well!”

“Perhaps so.”

“But you cannot spurn me so easily as this!”

“I just have.”

“Because you are irked with my invitation to Sicily,” I guessed. She lifted her chin, her pose telling more than any words could, and my frustration with both her and my unruly desire redoubled. “And what would you have of me instead? Would you have me wed you? Would that make it sweeter to part ways? How is it more admirable that those wedded remain together for all their days, even if their nights are spent apart? It is honest, at least, to cleave one’s path to another’s for solely so long as the destination of both is the same.”

“Honest?” She shook her head as if she could not believe my audacity. “It is remarkable indeed to have you tout the merits of honesty!”

“And what is that to mean?”

Evangeline turned upon me, her eyes gleaming, and I saw that I had goaded her into telling me a truth of some kind. To be sure, I heeded her every word. “It means that I know who you are and what you have done, Gawain Lammergeier. I know that you are a thief, perhaps an uncommonly talented thief, but a thief nonetheless. You are a man with no scruples and no concern for others. I know this, for I have witnessed it with my own eyes, and I dare not believe otherwise, especially not if the only evidence for another claim is your own sweet words.”

“But I had the
Titulus
when you sought me out. Who is the thief here? I who witnessed your theft of that relic from me, without a care for me!”

“I reclaimed what was mine own,” she said with vigor.

“But what did you witness with your own eyes? Never a theft of mine. You have witnessed no deed of mine, save those abed.”

“Have I not?” Evangeline’s eyes snapped with a new fire. “Fifteen years ago, you came to Inverfyre. I remember your golden hair and gilded tongue. I remember how fine and foreign you and your father seemed. I remember being enthralled that such men had come to our gates.”

I desperately tried to place Evangeline in my memories of this place. “But there were only men in the hall. There were no women - indeed, my father remarked upon it.”

Evangeline must have been a child, perhaps of eight or ten summers. Her beauty would have been evident, even then, and I knew I would have recalled her.

If I had seen her.

“My mother forbade me to come to the hall. Perhaps she knew my curiosity to be unhealthy. Perhaps she simply knew more of men than I.”

“But…”

Evangeline almost smiled. “In those days, I was not one to do as I was bidden. I watched from the top of the stairs as my father entertained his guests. I listened and I learned and I became enamored with a certain young man who spoke with unholy charm.”

Her gaze held mine as she watched me understand her inference.

“Me. You were watching me.” It did my pride no harm to know that the lady had found me fetching then, and indeed, if I had guessed that she lurked within these walls, perhaps I would have stolen more than an ancient piece of wood.

She smiled, if coldly. “I was smitten. You were as unlike the young men that I had met afore as any soul could be. You had grace and good looks and wealth and so many tales of distant lands! It was not fair that my mother had forbade me to meet you.”

A determined gleam lit her eyes. “I could not let the moment pass. When all retired, I crept down to the chapel, the better to entreat God to grant me one chance to speak with you. One chance was all I desired, a single moment to impress upon you that I was here, that I could be the maiden of your dreams, that we were undoubtedly destined to be together.”

Her lips twisted wryly and I saw that she believed this childish whimsy no longer.

But wait - she had come to the chapel all those years ago. I understood suddenly what she had seen. “You saw us in the midst of acquisition,” I guessed.

“Acquisition? Is that what theft is called in these sorry times? Or in that lawless land of Sicily that you so favor?” Her gaze was cold now, her expression so grim that she might have been the woman I had seen in the chapel, not the one I had met abed. “But yes, I saw you steal my father’s pride and joy. I saw you take the
Titulus
. I saw you laugh when it was in your grasp.”

Bitterness tinged her words. “I saw you revel in the fact that you had deceived the host who had treated you with honor. It was only later that I realized your cleverness in charming every detail of our relic from my father’s lips without seeming to do so.” She took a step toward me and I retreated, uncertain what she would do.