Even now that knight watched Quinn, as if he could glean the truth from his manner.Quinn turned his back upon Bayard, purportedly to climb into the second tub, but truly to hide his thoughts from his perceptive friend.
Bayard waited until the châtelain and Tulley’s servants had departed.Only Michel remained when Quinn settled into the water and closed his eyes at the luxury of the hot water.
“It cannot be a bad sign for this lady to have you so troubled after only one short interview,” Bayard said.Quinn tried not to wince.“You will make the best of this match in the end, Quinn, if it begins with such passion.”
“This match can have no best!”he replied with a vehemence that made Bayard’s brows rise.He tempered his tone with an effort.“She is as frosty as the winter wind, and there is no reasoning with her.”He frowned.“Unless, of course, she is furious and so articulate that a man can scarce utter a word in protest.”
Bayard said naught, the silence stretching long between them.
“It is unlike you to be so troubled aboutanymatter,” he finally noted.“I will guess that she meets with your approval but the opposite situation is not true.”
Quinn flung out his hands in frustration and water flew in all directions.“It is unlike me to be accused of being a mercenary, a brigand, and the echo of my sire in one interview!The lady has no shortage of criticisms to make, all unfounded.”
“A brigand?”
“There are raids upon her holding, which has prompted Tulley’s hand.”
“Because she has no lord husband.”
“But evidently she fears I am like my father.I see in her eyes that she wonders whether I lead the brigands.Her skepticism would match yours in magnitude.”With that, Quinn fell silent.
Bayard propped his elbows on the sides of the wooden tub and sat up, a glint in his eye.“Is she foul to look upon?”
His comrade’s curiosity troubled Quinn, which both surprised and annoyed him anew.
“Nay,” he admitted.
Bayard’s chuckle did naught to ease his mood.Quinn was grateful for the relative darkness of this place, for he felt color rising on the back of his neck.
“Dare I suggest that this is a matter of pride, Quinn?”that knight asked.“A pretty lady has spurned you, and not without cause, given your appearance upon arrival here.Are you insulted?”
“Of course not.”Quinn spoke gruffly.“But a man’s merit is not his garb.”
“What manner of lady would she have been if she had swooned before you?No woman you would welcome to wife, of that I can be certain.”
“Such a woman might be perceptive.”
“Such a woman might be undiscriminating,” Bayard replied.“As whores are like to be.”He took the brush and scrubbed his nails.“I would be pleased if a pretty lady, never mind one I was commanded to wed, confessed the truth to me without hesitation.Such a deed would show her merit as one who is honest, and her trust in me that she might confide her thoughts.I should have thought you would be the same.”
There was unwelcome truth in that.
“I do not think she trusts me.”
“You have only just met her, and not looking your best.”Bayard nodded.“She likely had some whimsy of wedding a man she chose, not one thrust upon her.Women put much credence in matches based upon love.”
“Do they?”
“Aye.It is the task of the husband to convince the lady to come to love him.”Bayard smiled.“I should think even you might manage that feat in time.”
“I thank you for your confidence in my talents.”
“What talents you possess, my friend, have naught to do with the seduction of reluctant maidens.”Bayard blinked.“Is she a widow?”
“I do not know,” Quinn confessed.“I do not think so.”
“Then she will be a maiden and rendering the marital debt will be a new obligation for her.Be gentle this night, Quinn, and that may gain you much.”
“Do you think as much?”
