“He is a markedly fine beast for a lady.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Especially one destined for a convent when last we met. Do the nuns ride such valuable destriers these days? Or have you found an accommodatingpatron?”
The insinuation was mostinappropriate.
Annelise felt her eyes narrow. “I do not believe my situation is of your concern, sir,” she said. She tugged Mephistopheles’ reins, and the steed stepped smartly toward the gates. “I have already asked what brings you this way, yet you have given noresponse.”
Enguerrand bowed low. “It was most churlish of me not to answer, fair Annelise.” He folded his hands behind his back and regarded her. “It seems that Bertrand, and hence Tulley, were concerned about your arrival at the convent. No word was returned, you see, and there were doubtsas to yoursafety.”
But the tracks showed that Yves and the others had ridden toward Beauvoir. Had they not reached that stronghold? Or did Enguerrand tell her only part of what heknew?
Annelise guessed it was thelatter.
“I am safe, as you can see.” She sat straighter. “I am surprised that you should undertake the quest to becertain.”
“Sweet Annelise, my admiration for you knows nobounds.”
Annelise did not reply tothat.
“You should have wed me when you had thechance.”
“Alas, that opportunity has beenlost.”
Enguerrand arched a brow. His gaze dancing over her garb, the horse, and the palace gates before them. “What cozy nest have you found for yourself,Annelise?”
His men snickered and her mouth went dry. “Make your accusation clearly,sir.”
“I make no accusation.” Enguerrand’s eyes grew cold. “I have only questions. Yours is lavish attire for a bride ofChrist.”
“I am not a bride of Christ, afterall.”
“I thought you chose the convent overme?”
“I did, but matterschanged.”
Enguerrand leaned forward, his gloved hand closing on Mephistopheles’ reins. The destrier nickered and stamped but the knight held fast. “Because you chose to warm a man’s bed rather than take yourvows?”
“I took vows of another kind,” Annelise replied. “I chose my husband over both convent andyou.”
“Husband?” Enguerrand’s eyes flashed. He was sufficiently surprised that Annelise was able to snatch the reins from hisgrip.
She rode toward the palace gates with Mephistopheles, then turned the horse adroitly. The party of men watched her. Enguerrand’s gloved hand clenched in a fist as he glared at her. Annelise did not believe for a moment that Enguerrand had come out of concern for hersafety.
Then Enguerrand’s dark eyes narrowed, and Annelise knew Enguerrand sought the prize he had desired all along. Quinn must not have returned as yet. Perhaps Tulley grew impatient with the delay. Enguerrand cared nothing for her, and Annelise knew instinctively that once Sayerne was under his hand— if indeed that possibility ever came to fruition—he would have no use for the woman who had brought him theprize.
Should Quinn subsequently return home, even more woe would have fallen upon the sorry bride Annelise might have been. As Enguerrand’s wife, she might have shared her mother’sfate.
Gratitude flowed through her that she had not been fool enough to accept hisoffer.
“You are wed in truth?” Enguerranddemanded.
“Do you suggest that I lie,sir?”
He frowned. “No, it cannot be so. You could not have wedanother.”
“I assure you, sir, that I have doneso.”
Enguerrand folded his arms across his chest as he watched her. “No. I will need more than your bold assertion to convince me,Annelise.”
Annelise tugged her glove from her left hand. The garnet winked as she held it up to view. One of Enguerrand’s knights coughed under his breath, evidently impressed with the token. “This is my husband’s ring, placed upon my finger at my nuptials,” she said. “And this is ourhome.”
