Claire Delacroix (25 page)

“Oh, that you will, my lady,” Yves growled with purpose, and grinned wickedly as he loomed over her. “That you will.”

And when he bent to claim her lips in a bone-melting kiss, Gabrielle could not wait to learn more.

T
wo glorious days later, Gabrielle watched her son romp with a litter of wolfhound pups in the stables of Sayerne. She was well aware of Yves’ gaze lingering warmly upon her and was happier than she had been in all her days.

Remarkably, Methuselah had not fought the cinch when they left Pemcault two days past. Gabrielle had checked the destrier, but found nothing amiss—except for Yves and Thomas chuckling conspiratorially together. Something had happened, that much was clear, but Gabrielle cared little for the details. It was enough for her that Thomas had taken so well to his new papa.

And Thomas was not the only one enraptured by Yves de Sant-Roux. It seemed that all required of Gabrielle was to abandon her fear of Yves to have him charge boldly forward and conquer her heart. And by the bemused smile that seemed fixed to that knight’s lips—and the ardor with which they met each night—Gabrielle guessed that his heart was falling prey to her allure.

She would never have expected such love to blossom between them. Perhaps it was sweeter to find something so unexpected, she mused, smiling herself as Thomas plucked one pup from the wiggling group surrounding him. The stall was
deep with sweet straw and six rubbery puppies whose tails wagged so ferociously they frequently fell over.

Thomas was having a wonderful time examining each pup in turn and being licked by every one that could manage to reach his face. They were of goodly size, even for pups, and that was only a promise of how big they would become. The dame of the litter lay back in the corner, watching the antics of her brood just as Gabrielle and Yves watched Thomas.

“I like this one,
Maman!
”

Gabrielle looked toward Sayerne’s burly ostler, who nodded agreement. “A fine bitch, Thomas,” he said. “Now, come and pick a stud from this other litter down the way. There is one of brindle hue, much like the one Chevalier Yves favored as a boy.”

Thomas grinned with excitement and struggled to both retain his grip on the wriggling puppy and make his way from the stall. Another pup latched sharp little teeth into his chausses and held on tight, tugging with vigor, the four others making a tangle of soft fur around the boy’s knees. Thomas squealed with laughter and lost his balance, disappearing beneath a mound of affectionate pups as Gabrielle bit back her laughter.

Yves waded purposefully into the stall and tucked Thomas’ puppy under his arm. The pup wagged her tail with vigor and squirmed against Yves, straining to lick his face as well. Meanwhile, the knight lifted Thomas by the scruff of his tabard and shook the determined puppy’s teeth free of Thomas’ chausses.

“I like him, too!” Thomas declared, but the knight shook his head.

“Go and see what you think of the brindle one.”

As he spoke, Thomas leaned over to scratch the chosen pup’s ears. She wriggled and lunged forward to lick his face. The boy squealed with delight, the pup wagged even harder in her excitement and the other pups jumped on Yves.

Yves visibly gritted his teeth and waded through wriggling
puppies to the corridor. Gabrielle fought against her laughter, knowing it would not be appreciated. Thomas fled after the ostler as soon as he was set on his feet, but Yves’ eyes suddenly widened in surprise.

Before Gabrielle could ask why, she saw the wet stain spreading from the pup and knew she could not stop her laughter this time.

“It is not funny!” Yves declared. When he lifted the pup from his side and eyed the wet mark on his tabard, his indignant expression sent Gabrielle into greater gales of laughter. Never would she have imagined to see this knight in such a circumstance!

Yves’ lips twitched, though he obviously fought to keep his expression stern. Before he could comment, someone cleared his throat.

Both Gabrielle and Yves pivoted toward the portal admitting the sunlight from Sayerne’s bailey. Gabrielle’s laughter was silenced by the sight of the familiar silhouette of the Lord de Tulley.

She and Yves exchanged a glance as the old lord harrumphed and peered into the stables. Gabrielle took the puppy from Yves, wondering what the old lord wanted here.

“Chevalier Yves de Sant-Roux?” Tulley demanded. “Is that you I hear?”

“Yes, my lord Tulley.” Yves dropped to one knee as Tulley snorted.

The old lord advanced into the shadowed interior of the stables, blinking rapidly at the change in the light. “My lord Tulley, indeed,” he echoed waspishly. “What made you imagine you could wed Gabrielle de Perricault without my permission?”

Tulley’s gaze sharpened as he spotted Gabrielle. He wagged a finger in her direction, giving Yves no chance to reply. “
You
should have known better.”

Gabrielle lifted her chin and endeavored to look dignified despite the puppy wriggling in her arms. “It seemed only
fitting to wed the knight who retrieved Perricault and killed Philip de Trevaine.”

Tulley’s eyes gleamed as he glanced back at Yves. “Did you now?” he mused. “I had wondered.” Then Tulley jabbed a finger at Gabrielle once more. “But you had no right to seek out the services of this knight without my permission.”

“I had every right to see my son retrieved,” Gabrielle retorted. “It was you who had no right to seek a champion for Perricault without
my
permission.”

That was not precisely true, but the old lord seemed content to let that charge pass unchallenged. “You should not have wed him without asking me first,” he declared. “The decision was mine to make! For your presumptuousness, I shall annul this match this very day!”

Gabrielle gasped, but before she could summon a word to her lips, Yves straightened and looked the old lord in the eye. “The match is consummated,” he said with precision. “And should you try to see it annulled, I shall battle your will all the way to Rome.”

Gabrielle’s heart sang at this endorsement of their nuptials, but Tulley’s slow smile made her leery of what that man might say.

“I shall expect your pledge of fealty before I surrender the seal of Perricault.”

Yves did not hesitate to respond with characteristic resolve. “And you shall have it.”

“Well, then,” Tulley said softly. “I truly cannot complain at the outcome of this. Perricault reclaimed, Trevaine dead, a widow wed most satisfactorily and the count’s own champion prepared to swear fealty to my hand in order to keep Perricault firmly held for me.”

Tulley, to Gabrielle’s amazement, produced a parchment scroll from within the folds of his cloak. “So, it is only fitting that I keep the terms of our original discussion. This document
will be yours, Yves de Sant-Roux.” Tulley paused. “Or should I say, Yves de Sayerne?”

Yves took the document, and Tulley cast Gabrielle a smile that seemed mocking. She was bursting with curiosity, but did not want the old lord to see any sign of it.

Tulley watched her for a long moment, then he swept from the stables, muttering about mulled wine. As soon as the lord turned his back, Yves stuffed the document into his belt and would not meet Gabrielle’s eyes.

“What is that?”

Yves’ mouth drew into a grim line. “Nothing.”

“It cannot be nothing if Tulley was so keen to grant it to you.”

“It is nothing of import,” Yves said firmly. “Let us find Thomas and see what other pup he has chosen.” He reached for the pup Gabrielle held, but she lifted the dog before her like a shield.

“No.” At her protest, Yves’ gaze flicked to hers, then he looked away again. “It cannot be nothing if you are so intent upon hiding its contents from me,” Gabrielle accused. “What is it?”

Yves shoved his hand through his hair. “Gabrielle, it is not a document I ever wanted, so it means nothing to you or to me.”

Gabrielle did not believe him. Surely if Yves told her the truth, he would look her in the eye?

Suddenly she was not quite so certain that Yves had nothing to gain from her. Her heart went cold.

Yves reached for the wolfhound again, and this time, Gabrielle let him grip the wriggling puppy. When both his hands were occupied with holding the dog, Gabrielle snatched the document from his belt and danced away.

“Gabrielle!” Yves roared. “I told you that it means nothing!”

But she had unfurled the parchment and read enough to
feed her worst fears. She scanned its contents hastily, then looked to Yves once more.

Now he held her gaze, his own filled with a sadness that could only mean she had been played for a fool by a man yet again.

“This declares you legitimate,” she observed as tonelessly as she could manage. “Was this the bait that Tulley offered in exchange for your winning Perricault?”

“Gabrielle, I declined his offer.”

“So you said.” Gabrielle felt her own lips thin. “Tulley seems to think otherwise.”

“Tulley plays to his own rules, as you well know.”

“Tulley plays as all men do,” Gabrielle retorted savagely. “But I was fool enough to think that you were different.”

“Gabrielle, it was not as you think…” Yves began, but she had no patience for whatever lie he might contrive.

“No! No, it was not at all as I thought and therein lies the problem! I
trusted
you! I thought you were different! I thought that you cared for me, or that at least you cared for Thomas!”

Gabrielle turned away so that Yves would not see her rising tears. Curse the man! She had trusted him!

She still loved him!

But she would not be used as a pawn again. “It was all for a wretched piece of parchment!” she said bitterly, then spun to face him anew. “Take it! Take it now! Take this declaration that is so terribly important to you!”

Gabrielle flung the document in Yves’ face, taking advantage of the knight’s surprise to snatch back Thomas’ puppy. She felt her tears well up and buried her nose in the puppy’s soft fur.

Yves said nothing. He stared at the document but did not pick it up. It was clear he had no defense to make in his own name. Gabrielle had called the matter right. Her heart ached so much she thought it might split in two, but she knew she should have known better.

All men cared for their own advantage alone. Her mother had told her so, but Gabrielle had been fool enough to ignore the advice.

Gabrielle stalked to the portal, hating how her voice quivered when she turned back to Yves. “There was something you needed from me, after all,” she said unevenly. “I simply did not know fully what was at stake.”

“Gabrielle, it is not as you say.” Yves’ voice was low and urgent. “You do not understand.”

“No,
you
do not understand,” she countered softly. Gabrielle bit her lip and looked at the parchment discarded on the stable floor. “This is the worst betrayal that I could ever imagine.”

“It is no betrayal!” Yves argued. “I ask only that you give me the opportunity to explain. I never wanted Tulley’s document!” Gabrielle felt the weight of his gaze land upon her but did not dare meet his eyes.

She had always been too vulnerable to this man’s appeal.

“Spare me your pretty tales and your charming smiles,” she said flatly, and felt suddenly very tired at the prospect of living her life without Yves.

No, it was only an illusion that she would miss. It was infinitely better to know the truth now than it would have been to spend her life believing a lie. That had been her mother’s error, after all.

Gabrielle lifted her chin and looked directly at Yves, a part of her errant heart twisting at the sight of his dismay. But it was all for effect, and Gabrielle would not be swayed again.

“I loved you as I have never let myself love a man before,” she confessed heavily. “And you could only destroy that, to see your own worldly end achieved.”

If Yves looked dumbfounded by this confession, it was no surprise to Gabrielle. So few people saw their selfishness in its true terms.

All the same, she felt ill with what she must do. “I will take Thomas home to Perricault immediately, along with his
puppies. You will not accompany us, nor will you return there.”

Yves took a deep breath. “Will you give me no chance to explain?”

“There is no need to cover a lie with another,” Gabrielle said sharply.

“A lie?” Yves crossed his arms across his chest and surveyed her sternly. “Gabrielle, I have never told you a lie and do not tell you one now!”

“Ha! Our entire acquaintance has been a lie from one end to the other!” Gabrielle retorted. “At least you were honest about showing how much it troubled you to be born a bastard! I should have guessed that nothing less than legitimacy could have won such a dedicated response from you!”

“There was no promise of legitimacy!” Yves retorted. “I declined Tulley!”

“By your account alone! Tulley seems quite certain that you had an arrangement.” Gabrielle stalked to the door, glancing back over her shoulder to the obviously irritated knight. “And Tulley,” she added softly “has nothing to gain in this, does he?”

“Gabrielle, you push me too far!” Yves roared, but she was striding through the bailey of Sayerne. When Yves’ hand landed on her shoulder, she froze but did not look back. “What of the lie
you
tell this day?”

Gabrielle pivoted smartly. “What lie?”

Yves’ lips twisted. “That you love anyone other than Michel de Perricault,” he charged softly. “Your heart might as well be buried with that man, for the relentlessness of his grip upon it.”

Gabrielle gasped, her denial dying upon her lips. Let Yves think she cared for Michel! If he had wounded her this badly thinking that, what would happen if he believed the truth?

Gabrielle’s response was low and intent, for she knew that if she lingered she might change her mind. “Do not come to Perncault. And do not talk to my son again.”

With that, Gabrielle shook off the weight of Yves’ hand and returned to the hall of Sayerne. A few quick words to Leon sent that knight in pursuit of Thomas, and she retreated to the sanctuary of the women’s chambers. She forced belongings into her saddlebags, not caring what was packed where.

And there, all alone but for an affectionate puppy, Gabrielle wept for what she had lost.

The hour was early when Quinn came to Sayerne the evening after Gabrielle’s departure, but Yves was already feeling the effects of the wine. Indeed, Gaston could not refill the pitcher quickly enough.