And rule the Breton seas.
Bastien shuddered at the thought of Ugolin le Clou becoming King of Finistère. Not only would Ugolin control all shipping on the French coastline from the Loire Valley to the River Seine, he would also become Gabrielle’s husband. An intolerable outcome that Bastien could never allow. He was determined to win the joust. Wed Gabrielle. And save Finistère.
Esclados’ eyebrows furrowed into a pensive scowl. “A suspected poisoning of the king. An attempted abduction of the princess.” Warning blazed in Esclados’ warrior eyes. “Ugolin le Clou is behind both. And he’ll act again. He’ll try to win the Yuletide Joust at any cost. Have his champion charge with a sharpened lance. Slash your horse. Strive for a killing blow. He won’t abide by the chivalrous rules of conduct outlined by the Statute of Arms for regulating jousts. He has no honor, son. Be on your guard at all times.” Esclados scanned the competitors’ tents, his scrutinizing gaze roving over the tournament field where the two jousting lanes were separated by ropes to prevent collision of the challengers. Nodding as if arriving at a crucial decision, Esclados announced wryly, “Lancelot and I will inspect all weapons before each and every run.” His dark eyes blazed with protective, paternal fury. “Ugolin’s champion, the Black Knight Sir Tréguier, will joust with the required blunted lance. Or be disqualified from the competition.”
Bastien took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I hope I’m not disqualified from the competition either.” His father raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “King Guillemin’s royal messenger has not yet returned with the official decree from Parliament. Pray that he does within the week--before the joust begins.” He sighed again and glanced at the turrets of the castle. “I must go now, to relieve Cardin. He’s temporarily taken my place as Gabrielle’s royal guard so that I could come and greet you. He’ll be the one to protect her while I’m—Goddess willing—competing in the joust. And Gaultier, as First Knight of Beaufort, will guard the king.”
An ominous chill rippled up Bastien’s spine as a warning--a warrior’s instinct-- niggled at the back of his mind. He locked eyes with his father. “When Lancelot arrives tomorrow, there’s something important I want to show you, the knights of Landuc, and Lancelot’s men fromla Joyeuse Garde. I’ve already shown Gaultier, Cardin, King Guillemin, and our own knights of Beaufort.” He spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Inside the castle, there’s a hidden trapdoor in the floor of the storage pantry—near the servants’ exit. It leads down under the foundation of thechâteauinto a secret tunnel. To the west, it empties into a sea cave on the beach. And to the east, it leads up into the forest behind the castle, nearle Lac de Poulinoc. That’s how I was able to save Gabrielle from being abducted. And it might be important in defending the castle. If, as you suspect, Ugolin le Clou does indeed act again.”
With a hearty farewell and a promise to see them later that evening, Bastien left his father, the three boys, and the knights of Landuc to settle into the tents and groom the horses. And feast on the delectable roasted meats.
Inside the castle, Gaultier stood at attention, guarding the entrance to King Guillemin’s private chambers with three other armored knights.
Bastien approached his older brother who acknowledged him with an affectionate fraternal smile. “How is the king?”
Gaultier’s grave expression was sufficient response. “Not well. His stomach pains him, and his gout-swollen foot is excruciating. He’s resting now.” After a pause, he asked, “Has Father arrived with the horses and knights of Landuc?”
“Yes, I’ve just left them on the tournament field. They’re unpacking…settling into the tents. Several of the knights are competing inles commencçailles—they’ve brought a dozen Friesian for the joust. And eight magnificent Ardennes. Quentin and Gaston are with them. I introduced the boys to Max. They’ll take excellent care of Drach. And ensure he’s never left unattended.”
“Wise decision. With Ugolin le Clou’s reputation for treachery, it’s best to be prepared.”
Bastien nodded. “Has the royal messenger returned from Paris?”
Apprehension reflecting in his dark eyes, Gaultier averted his gaze. “Not yet.”
The messenger was expected days ago. Delivering the royal decree from Paris which authenticated Bastien’s newly appointed title ofle Marquis de Cornouaille. Documenting his eligibility to compete in the Yuletide Joust. Bastien swallowed the tight knot constricting his throat. “I’m going to relieve Cardin now. He’s been guarding Gabrielle while I welcomed Father and the knights of Landuc. Your replacements will arrive soon, so you can head out to the lists and greet them all. I’ll see you later tonight.” With a firm handshake and a nod to the other knights, Bastien left Gaultier and the king’s royal guards.
He took the stone steps up to the second story of the castle, where his younger brother Cardin and a knight named Jeffroi guarded the entrance to Gabrielle’s private chambers. “I’ve come to relieve you both,” Bastien announced with a grin. “Thank you for your loyal service, Jeffroi.”
The younger knight fisted his chest, ducked his chin, and left the two chivalrous brothers standing in front of the ornately carved wooden door.
Bastien informed Cardin, “Father and his knights just arrived. They’re on the tournament field, unpacking the horses, getting established in the tents. Head on out to greet them and let me know when Lancelot arrives tomorrow. I want to take him and Father into the tunnel that I showed you and Gaultier—with the passages leading to the cave on the beach or the forest behind the castle near the lake. With Ugolin le Clou and his men attending the joust, I want a regiment of knights hidden in each position. To defend the castle, in the event he’s planned a surprise attack.”
Dark eyebrows furrowed in a pensive scowl, Cardin replied, “I’ll position soldiers as well—in strategic locations around the perimeter of the castle.” Battle experience blazing in his solemn gaze, he added, “Prince Kaherdin is arriving tomorrow with a bevy of armored knights from Armorique, wielding magnificent Elven weapons. With Kaherdin’s warriors, Lancelot’s soldiers, Father’s men from Landuc, and our own knights of Beaufort, we’ll be well defended on the tournament field. Gaultier and I will protect the king and Princess Gabrielle in the grandstand while you’re competing. And—with knights traveling through the tunnels to hide in defensive locations around the castle—we’ll be ready to counter any potential attack.”
With a firm handshake and a grin of agreement, Cardin bid his brother farewell and departed while Bastien knocked upon the carved golden oak door.
The white wimple of a humble servant appeared in the doorway. Bastien spotted Gabrielle seated at a table near the window. Her whole face alit in a dazzling smile as her eyes locked with his, she dismissed her attendant.
And welcomed him in.
Closing and bolting the door, she threw her arms around his neck, pulled his face down to hers, and placed her warm, inviting lips upon his. “Thank the Goddess, you’re here. I have missed you so…” She planted seductive kisses along his neck, nestling her nose into the dark hair protruding from his chest plate.
Emerald eyes ablaze, she looked up at him expectantly. Invitingly. Irresistibly.
Pulling her against him, his lips devoured hers, parting them with a probing, possessive tongue.
Gabrielle emitted a throaty moan and melted in his arms.
He unlaced her bodice, lavished her lush breasts with warm, greedy lips, easing her gown and shift down over her shoulders to puddle on the floor.
Nude, trembling with desire, she stood before him, watching with parted lips and shallow breath as he threw off his armor and boots, dropped his scabbard and sword, and flung his breeches onto the wooden floor.
In a flash, he was upon her, his ardor unleashed. He wrapped her in his shaking arms, pressing his hardened body against hers as his mouth caressed her quivering flesh. He laid her upon the downy soft mattress of the feather bed, climbing over her, his heart slamming in his throat. Lowering his lips to hers, he traced and parted them with his tongue. His hungry mouth sought her white throat, her shoulders, suckling delicate pink nipples as enticing and sweet as nectar. Trailing kisses down her stomach, he tasted her luscious depths, his tongue probing and lips caressing the soft, tender flesh.
Writhing in pleasure, she begged, “Please, Bastien, I want you inside me.”
With a guttural groan, he positioned himself between her quavering legs, parted her thighs with muscular knees, and slipped his hands under her soft, full hips. He tilted her pelvis up to receive him. And plunged into paradise.
