“Annelise,” he appealed. “You must make a choice and make it thisnight.”
Her heart softened a bit that he finally appealed to her. “You could take me withyou.”
Yves shook his head. “No. I must see you safe before I depart to seek my own fortune.” He held her gaze resolutely. “I must insist that you choose one suitor or the other. I bid you decide immediately, before Quinnreturns.”
“Choose from these two men, Annelise, if you insist upon making your own choice, but do it now and see the matter resolved,” Bertrand added. “You do not grow any younger and soon your appeal will diminish evenmore.”
Annelise lifted her chin, knowing that there was only one way to compel Yves to understand how serious she was. “If I must choose a spouse this very night, then I choose to return to the convent. I will become a bride of Christ.” She held Yves’ gaze, knowing that resolve shone in herown.
Yves knew how much she had loathed the convent. Surely, once he saw that she would rather return there than marry, he would abandon theargument?
Her threat hung in the air. The fire crackled, and all eyes were fixed uponher.
To her astonishment, Yves nodded calmly inagreement.
“So be it,” he said. “We ride for the convent of Ste. Radegund at firstlight.”
Annelise’s lips parted inshock.
Yves arched a fair brow. “It was you who named the price, Annelise,” he reminded her softly. “I must have you safe before Quinn comes home, and you have made yourchoice.”
Then he turned away, accepting Bertrand’s invitation of a cup of wine. Enguerrand stared at her, but Annelise did not acknowledgehim.
She had thought she could trustYves.
But she knew her own desire and it was not folly. Should the convent be the price she was condemned to pay for her convictions, then pay shewould.
* * *
The sky was pearlywhen Annelise descended to the bailey just before dawn the next morning. The snow was already falling thick and fast. The wind was cold enough to chill right to the bone, and she shivered as she mounted herpalfrey.
She had hoped that Yves would change his thinking. She had expected him to meet her this morning, or halt her on her way to her palfrey to declare that he had relented. Yves knew how she had hated her years in the cloister. He knew that life would never suit her. He had to realize she had made the claim to show him her determination to avoid thesematches.
But he had not come toher.
Annelise’s gaze flew to him as he stepped out of the hall, apparently preoccupied with donning his gloves. Was this the moment of hiscapitulation?
Without even glancing her way, Yves strode to his destrier andmounted.
Fear rose within Annelise. Perhaps he only waited until they were upon the road to speak to her. He would not want to back down before all these soldiers andBertrand.
But there was a resolute set to her younger brother’s lips that troubledher.
It would be the convent forher.
The horses snorted, their breath making clouds in the cold air. Squires blew on their hands to keep warm, and the gatekeeper looked to be wearing every garment heowned.
Another burly man stamped his feet as he paced back and forth in the tollbooth, although at this early hour, no traveling merchants had yet reached the pass. Annelise was not surprised that Tulley—and Beauvoir—had no intention of failing to collect any coindue.
The portcullis protested with a squeal as it was hauled skyward. Yves cast a stern glance over his party, but did not meet his sister’s gaze before leading the group toward the gate. Bertrand and his wife had not even come to say farewell. Annelise’s heart felt as cold as the snow aroundher.
Unlike the last time, when she had been sent to the nuns for her education, Annelise would never be able to leave the cloisteragain.
She would be consigned to a lifetime ofsilence.
She would be alone, entrusted to the care of an abbess who was a complete stranger, surrounded by yet morestrangers.
And there would be no hope ofrespite.
