Chapter 2
December—BeauvoirKeep
Annelise’sworst nightmare was unfolding before her very eyes and, worse, there was little she could do about it. She had already been chided once for not paying attention to herembroidery.
“Yves, the most sensible course would be to wed your sister to Hildegarde’s son.” Bertrand de Beauvoir clapped Annelise’s younger brother on the shoulder as if they were comrades. Though his manner was friendly—more friendly than he had ever been to Yves in the past—Annelise wondered why the old mercenary was so certain what choice Yves shouldmake.
She was not certain that Bertrand had ever before spoken directly to Yves before. Her younger brother was a bastard, true enough, but their father had let him be raised within the walls of ChâteauSayerne.
Indeed, Jerome de Sayerne had not been without his own motives in that choice or any other. It had been her own father who had taught Annelise to look behind a man’s smooth words to the truth of hisintentions.
What would Bertrand gain from this proposedmatch?
“I am not certain Annelise should wed a man I know so little about,” Yves repliedcalmly.
Annelise cast him a look but he ignored her. Why would he not ask her opinion? She parted her lips to protest but Bertrand’s wife shushedher.
Again.
That woman’s agitation convinced Annelise to be silent. She had a good idea why the other woman might fear her husband and had no desire to maketrouble.
Was it so unreasonable to want to wed for love or not atall?
With their father deceased, Yves was all the family she had left. It was annoying that a half-brother, who had not seen her in years, would be asked to decide her fate while she would not be permitted to comment. Indeed, it seemed the place of women in the wider world was not so different from that of the convent. Frustration roiled withinAnnelise.
She had a legitimate brother, Quinn, though she had never met him. Quinn had left Sayerne to earn his own way before Annelise had even been conceived. No one was certain of his location and Annelise was glad of it. She would never forget the tales her father had told of the cruelty of his first-born.
Considering the source, Quinn was not a man she ever wanted toencounter.
That was why they were at Beauvoir. She knew they had been right to leave Château Sayerne when they had heard that Quinn would soon return home again. It suited Annelise’s sense of justice to leave the man who had inherited her father’s cruelty a second worthlesslegacy.
Château Sayerne, the traditional holding of Annelise’s family, might once have been a prize but was so no longer. Jerome had let the estate fall into neglect and, with his death, the last of Sayerne’s tenants had fled. This past year, not a single seed had been sown in Sayerne’s fields. The holding had declined so greatly from its original state that Annelise and Yves had not even needed to discuss the merit of leaving once they learned of Quinn’s pendingreturn.
Neither of them had lookedback.
Beauvoir was, in marked contrast to Sayerne, a comfortable keep, despite its remote location. Bertrand, the new Lord de Beauvoir, had been entrusted with the strategic task of guarding the Beauvoir Pass by their overlord, Lord de Tulley. At this pass, the old Roman road passed out of Lord de Tulley’s holdings on its route south to Rome. Château Beauvoir was perched on the apex of the pass and built across the road itself. No one could cross the mountains without paying thetoll.
Beauvoir’s tower was as narrow as a needle, like a finger pointed to heaven, its construction having been restricted by the rocky terrain on all sides. There were windows only at the very top of the tower, in Bertrand’s solar and the guard’s watch above. To say that the keep was heavily garrisoned would have been an understatement. It was the most military keep in all of Tulley’s holdings, which said much about its strategiclocation.
On this night, Annelise and Bertrand’s wife were the only women to be found within the walls. Annelise had been keenly aware of the soldiers’ gazes following her every move and could not wait to leave Beauvoir behind. She felt like prey or like a prize to beseized.
The question was where she and Yves wouldride.
The chamber that Bertrand used to administer his holding was adjacent to the great hall. It was a sparsely furnished room, although the pieces there were fine ones. A merry fire burned in the brazier and the air was smoky butwarm.
Silver-haired Bertrand sat in a high-backed oak chair that faced the fire, its wooden arms worn to a smooth patina. The lines on his face were etched into a severe expression, and he looked every inch the experienced commander that hewas.
His wife perched closer to the fire on a three-legged stool, much like the one Annelise used, although the lady had a cushion of wool dyed richly red. A mousy woman with almost no color in her complexion, Bertrand’s wife bent over her embroidery, her shoulders rounded, her demeanor meek. Annelise had yet to hear her speak a wordunbidden.
The way she looked at her husband was enough to chill Annelise’sheart.
Annelise, in contrast, was seldom so quiet. Her outspoken nature had been the greatest challenge of her time at the convent dedicated to Ste. Radegund and their vow of silence had been one reason she had so despised her timethere.
The golden light from the fire cast what was a tense discussion in a falsely warm glow of intimacy. The light burnished Yves’ mail to silver and cast mysterious shadows in the secret corners of theroom.
“She must wed, though,” Bertrand said to Yves as if Annelise was not even present. “A man cannot make his way dragging a sister by his side.” The older man’s silver brows drew together sternly. “You did ask me for advice, after all, and this is the only option that makes good sense. I know of no other suitable men seeking a bride at thistime.”
“Perhaps someone might ask my opinion,” Annelise murmured. “After all, it is my future that you discuss.” Bertrand’s wife shot a warning glance in her direction, but both men continued as though she had notspoken.
