This night might change all between them.He prayed that it might and hurried to the portal, pausing to glance back.
Melissande said no more, but folded her arms across her chest, watching him go.She bit her lip as she watched him and he saw tears glisten in her eyes.As ever, the sight of her vulnerability affected him powerfully.He hoped with all his measure that she truly was concerned for him.
“Is there some detail you would tell me?”he asked and she shook her head, her tears flying.
Still she withheld the tale of the second entry.
That told Quinn all he needed to know.
It disappointed him deeply.
On impulse, he reached into his purse and removed the one item he knew Melissande desired above all else.He tossed it to her as if it were a trinket of far less value than it truly was.He saw her catch the seal, then look down.There was no doubting the moment that she realized what she held, for her eyes lit and then she frowned.
“You should not surrender this to me,” she whispered even as her fist closed over it.
“I spare you the trouble of seeking it, should I not return,” he said, disappointment in his tone.She only stared at him.That displeased him—he would rather have parted with a kiss—and he turned to march down the stairs.His cloak flared behind him and he found his comrades already on their feet, awaiting him in hall and bailey.
“Sir!You cannot mean to die this night!”Melissande called from behind him.
He pivoted to find her on the stairs, her hair unbound and her chemise more sheer than she realized, her gaze filled with concern.She was a vision of loveliness, one that made his throat tighten, and he knew he would always remember her thus.
But she had not used his name.
“Few men mean to die when they meet their end, my lady.”He bowed then and continued to the stables, his comrades quick behind him.
He risked more than she knew this night and he wished he could have trusted her fully.
The plan was made and now Quinn could only hope for its success.
Quinn’s senseof duty would be his undoing.The man was as vexing as the first day Melissande had met him—nay, more so, for now she cared about his survival and recognized that much was reliant upon him.Honor and duty.The very words made Melissande grit her teeth.As Lord d’Annossy, it was not his personal obligation to strike the killing blow against the brigands.
He should send his comrades or his men-at-arms.
He should delegate, not risk his own hide!
Melissande dressed in haste, lacing the sides of her kirtle and tugging on her boots without stockings.The keep was filled with activity, though no one raised their voice.All was being prepared in stealth.Despite her haste, by the time she reached the hall, Quinn and his men were gone.She raced into the bailey to see the rump of Quinn’s destrier as he led the company through the gates.
Curse him.He even wore her father’s tabard this night, making himself an easy target.She bit her fist, her fear rising high, and hoped that she would have the opportunity to chastise him, then welcome him abed.
Nigh all of his comrades rode with him.They were armed and helmeted, their dark cloaks hiding their mail from view.She spied the steeds of Luc and Thierry, right behind Fortitude, then Amaury touched his fingertip to his helmet in salute as his horse cantered past her.Melissande stared after the men as all the many squires on their palfreys, each and every one armed, rode around her and filed out the gates.They had been prepared this night, and likely all the nights of late, to ride out at Quinn’s command with little notice.
A movement at the top of Annossy’s wall, above the gates, drew her eye.A knight was silhouetted on the balustrade, his helmet and his raised gloved hand catching a glimmer of light as he waved off Quinn’s party.She realized it was Bayard by his green tabard and the shape of his helmet.She saw him gesture for the gates to be closed after Quinn’s departure, then take up his stance above the gates.
One comrade left in Annossy’s defense.
One.
Melissande’s sense of foreboding grew at that, even though she knew Quinn’s expertise with warfare was far beyond her own.She knew also that Bayard must be a competent warrior and a trusted one for Quinn to have assigned him this task.Quinn had said he set a trap and he must have allowed for all the possibilities.Still, she was fearful.
She compelled herself to think of practical matters.The company would return hungry, at the very least, if not injured.She went to the kitchens to rouse the cook and urge him to set soup upon the fire.She sent to the village for the healer, for she was uncertain whether Quinn’s companion Lothair would return to the keep or not.She consulted with that woman to make preparations in the hall, and wished she knew what was happening.The hall was filled with quiet purpose, women and men working as silently as shadows, their expressions fearful.
Quinn had given her the seal instead of a kiss farewell.How could he believe that only the seal of Annossy was of importance to her?
Melissande wished she had thought more quickly and spoken the truth to him.She wished she had told him about the old pathway to the solar, even though she was not certain of its existence.She had been compelled to wed him, she had challenged him and fought him, and Quinn had countered her objections with persistence, patience and honor.
She could love him.
She feared again for his survival and knew she already did.
