“If the villeins cannot be troubled to learn the manner of man I truly am, then I shall rebuild without such fools in my service,” he retorted.“Should I be obliged to do so, my lady, you may rest assured thatIwill rebuild Sayerne, stone by very stone, with the labor of my own hands.”
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but clearly her opinion did not change.Their gazes locked and held, that strange awareness crackling between them, and Quinn knew he had been without a woman’s touch too long.
Why else would this maiden of ice so stir his blood?
Tulley cleared his throat.Quinn spun to face the older man, heat rising on his neck that he had forgotten that man’s presence.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the lady’s cheeks tinged a brighter hue of pink.
How unexpected that they had something in common.
Perhaps she was not made of stone, as she might have him believe.
Quinn realized then that he did not know who she was.He scolded himself silently for neglecting his manners.He was certain that the lady had noted his error and would remind him of it, if she were ever given the chance.
“An assumption is being made,” Tulley said.His bright gaze flicked between Quinn and the lady.“Sayerne has not yet been invested upon anyone.”
Could the lord intend to grant Sayerne to this forthright lady?Why else would Quinn have been admitted to the lord’s offices in her presence?He slanted a glance in her direction, somewhat reassured that she looked as surprised as he felt.
“My lord?”Quinn asked.
Tulley smiled.“Do not worry, Quinn, my intention is still that you will hold Sayerne.However, times demand that I place a condition upon your investiture.”
This was no good tiding.“A condition, my lord?”
“I would see you married.”
“Married?”Quinn blinked.
“Aye, the line of Sayerne must be assured and I cannot let you take the reins of the estate without some succession—if it is not secured, then it should be in the process of being so.”
Quinn faltered, for he had not planned to take a wife so soon.“But I have no betrothed, no fortune...”
“Surely, Quinn, you intend to wed?”
“Aye, my lord,” he said with haste.“It is only the timing that is of concern.Sayerne is in need of repair and I would not expect any lady to endure such circumstances.”His voice gained assurance as he made his argument.“Grant me but a year, my lord, that my home might be fitting for a bride and then I will welcome your counsel.”
To his disappointment, Tulley frowned.
“Nay, Quinn, a year will not do.The matter must be resolved immediately or I cannot invest you with the estate.”
Quinn was shocked to have his fear so calmly presented as a possibility.Was he only to glimpse Sayerne then be denied it?He cast his thoughts back to Tulley’s missive, the one summoning him home, and realized the older man had promised naught.
He had simply notified Quinn of Jerome’s death and urged him to return to Sayerne.
Quinn felt as if a cold hand seized his innards.
Tulley seated himself and frowned.“Your marriage will solve more than you know.”The lord darted a glance to the lady.“Will it not, Melissande?”
The lady caught her breath in obvious disapproval.Quinn noted that she was even more affronted by the suggestion than he.
Indeed, she could not hold her tongue.She stepped toward Tulley and appealed to him.“Sir!Spare me your praise of this vagabond!”she said.“It is more than enough that some son of Jerome has come to claim that cursed family’s holding, without you greeting him as a saint!”
Quinn felt obliged to argue.“I may be no saint, my lady, but do not call my family cursed.”
The lady turned upon him with flashing eyes.“Whyever not?”she demanded.“They might as well have been cursed, as a result of your father’s choices.”
“I cannot answer for my father...”
“Tell me then why villeins fled your father’s land at every opportunity.Tell me why no less than two dozen of his bastards born of serving wenches populate the countryside, each and every one denied the bounty of his hall.The women themselves were cast to the winds when their condition became evident.Explain to me, if you will, why every year until this one I have been obliged to argue with that foul man over the boundaries between Sayerne and Annossy.Perhaps you can tell me the fate of the grain that was stolen out of my warehouses every winter.”
