A while later, they lay together, limbs entwined, bodies sated. He lovingly stroked the long red tresses as Gabrielle rested her head over his pounding heart. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her rose-scented hair. “To the very depths of my soul. I am yours, Gabrielle. Now and always.”
“And I am yours, Bastien de Landuc.” She buried her nose into the dark hair on his chest, inhaling deeply as if to embed his scent into her very soul. “Totally, utterly, and completely yours.” Raising herself up onto one elbow, she caressed his chest with her free hand, twirling the hair into little peaks and brushing them out again. She raised a crumpled face to his. “I simply cannot become another man’s wife,” she choked, her voice breaking. “Be forced to submit to him. Endure anyone but you inside my body.” She shuddered violently and locked desperate eyes on his. “Youmustwin the joust, Bastien. I cannot belong to anyone else.”
He thought again of the delayed royal messenger. Without proof of a title of nobility, Bastien would be excluded from competing in the joust. The thought of Ugolin le Clou wedding and bedding Gabrielle filled him with impotent, sickening rage. Bitter bile rose in his constricted throat.
“If… I must marry someone else…” she stammered, her voice a breathless whisper, her fearful eyes brimming with unshed tears, “…perhaps we could still be lovers. When my husband is away…”
He pulled her possessively to his chest, cradling her upon his heaving heart. He would never risk her life for the pleasure of being her paramour. His own life, willingly. But hers…never. No, if she were forced to marry another, he would become achevalier itinérant—a knight errant. He’d offer the service of his sword in a distant, foreign kingdom.
Far from Finistère.
For he could never bear to see her in another man’s arms. Or endure the thought of another man between her long, lithe legs. He shuddered with jealous revulsion.
“Shhh,” he murmured, stroking her tousled hair. “There’s still time for the royal messenger to arrive from Paris. The joust begins in three days. Goddess willing, your father will receive the decree fromleParlementin time for me to compete. We must keep the faith, my love. I shall win your hand. And you, my flame-haired, fire-hearted Valkyrie, will be my wedded wife. Now, come here. Let me show you how much I love you.”
With a whimper of willing acquiescence, fragile hope, and unbridled desire, Gabrielle succumbed.
And Bastien lavished her—body and soul—with all the love and lust in his fierce Breton heart.
Chapter 12
Les Arrivées
The following day, Lancelot arrived with two dozen knights fromla Joyeuse Gardeand a dozen prized warhorses for the Yuletide Joust. Bastien, his father Esclados, and the knights of Landuc greeted the entourage with a hearty welcome on the tournament field near the lists. Today, Gaultier—the First Knight of Beaufort—was among them, having assigned royal guards to assist Cardin with defending King Guillemin and Princess Gabrielle.
Since Maxence, as Bastien’s squire, already knew Lancelot well from the summers spent with his lord atla Joyeuse Garde, he led the knights and grooms toward the assigned tents to unpack and tend to the horses while Bastien introduced the two remaining awestruck boys to his formidable former mentor.
“May I present SirLancelot du Lac,”Bastien exclaimed heartily. “First Knight of Camelot and Champion of King Arthur Pendragon. The lord who trained me each summer at his glorious castle,la Joyeuse Garde.The legendary knight whose equestrian lessons enabled me to become Master of Horse for King Guillemin.” He grinned at Lancelot, who dismounted from an enormous black stallion to stand proudly before the enthralled youths. “The unparalleled horseman who gave me Drach, my magnificent Percheron, when I became a knight here atle Château de Beaufort.”
Adulation stretching across his freckled face, Quentin beamed with pride when Bastien remarked affably to Lancelot, “This is Quentin, my father’s best stable hand. In fact, Lord Esclados is grooming him to become Master of Horse at Landuc.”
Tossing his dark, wavy hair behind his broad shoulders, Lancelot offered an outstretched hand as he flashed Quentin a dazzling grin. In a rich, deep baritone, he boomed, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Quentin. I’m always glad to meet a fellow horseman.”
Young Gaston lingered shyly behind Quentin, his limpid blue eyes widened in wonder as he stared open-mouthed at Lancelot, the hero he worshipped like a god. The idol who would make the boy’s dreams come true with his incredible Yuletide gift.
Bastien motioned for Gaston to approach.
His chin ducked, a timid smile breaking across his wonderstruck face, Gaston sauntered up to Bastien.
To meet the renowned Lancelot of the Lake.
“This is Gaston—Ghislaine and Gaspard’s son. My squire Max and Quentin are teaching him to groom the horses, too. He’s been a tremendous help, caring for my stallion Drach.” Bastien chuckled at the boy’s flushed, flustered face. “He’s a natural, Sir Lancelot. Just like you and me.”
Lancelot firmly but gently shook Gaston’s small hand, then squatted down to look the lad directly in the eye. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Gaston. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you at long last.” Affection and pride shone in Lancelot’s assessing gaze. Rising to his feet, he offered, “Would you like to meet my horse? His name is Gosse, and he’s a black Percheron, just like Drach.” Taking Gaston by the hand, Lancelot led the boy toward the enormous horse, who nickered in greeting.
A few moments later, Gaston sat astride the massive charger, grinning from ear to ear, as Lancelot led his warhorse across the grassy courtyard. Returning to offer Quentin a ride as well, Bastien watched the bemused First Knight of Camelot entertain the two awestruck, astonished boys.
“Well, Gosse needs to be watered and groomed now, and so does Drach. How about you two take care of them for us, while Max and the stable hands groom the other horses? Curry their coats, clean their hooves…feed them some barley and oats. When you’ve finished, we’ll head on over to see what the cooks have got sizzling over those open fires.” He inhaled deeply, savoring the heady aroma. “Smells like roast boar. With honey.Delicious.” With a hearty grin, he chuckled as the rapt boys dashed off, eager to obey.
Esclados, with Gaultier at his side, joined them as the two boys sped by. He grinned at Lancelot. “They certainly enjoyed riding your Percheron. He’s a fine animal. I’ll bet he’s won you many a joust.”
“Indeed, he has.” Lancelot cast an admiring glance at his black stallion, preening under the adulation of the young, attentive grooms.
“Gaultier and I want to show you a hidden passage that I discovered inside the castle.” Bastien grinned at his older brother, bemused by the looks of astonishment on their father’s and Lancelot’s intrigued faces. “There’s a trap door in the floor of the storage room near the kitchen pantry. It opens into a tunnel under the foundation, leading west to a sea cave on the beach. Or east, to the forest behind the château, nearle Lac de Poulinoc. Where Gaultier, Cardin, and I used to hunt as squires.”
Bastien noticed several older grooms were working alongside Max, Quentin, and Gaston. “I’ll be right back,” he said to his companions as he strode over to speak to the young men and boys tending the horses. “I’m going inside the castle with Sir Gaultier, Sir Lancelot, and Sir Esclados. We’ll be back soon,” he told Max. “Keep an eye on the boys and the horses for us until we return.” To Quentin and Gaston, he said, “Stay here with Max. We won’t be long.”
Max ducked his chin, respect and loyalty shining in his bright eyes. “Yes, my lord. We’ll take good care of the horses and wait here for your return.”
