“I am still chilled,” she lied, and Berthe’s expression turned sympathetic.
“Oh, my lady, I have ensured there would be plenty,” the maid said and hastened to fill the cup again.
By the timeMelissande descended the stairs to the hall in all her finery, she was warm through and through.Two cups of Berthe’s spiced wine brew had almost dismissed every bit of her trepidation.Indeed, she felt a little unsteady on her feet.She stumbled on the bottom step but a strong hand caught her elbow.
Melissande glanced up to thank her benefactor, but fell silent when she met Quinn’s steady gaze.
At least, she thought it was Quinn.He had shaved and she saw the strong outline of his features for the first time.His hair was trimmed, his garments fine.His eyes alone remained the same.Melissande swallowed and found she could not look away.
How could she have questioned whether the man was handsome?In this moment, he looked every measure the noble knight.
A smile slowly curved his lips and Melissande knew for certain that she had drunk too much wine.Why else would it be so difficult to catch her breath?
Why else did she want to reach up and touch him with a fingertip?
“My lady, you are a vision,” he said.“That hue suits you most well.”His voice was low, his complement for her ears alone.That they exchanged a confidence, even over such an inconsequential matter, seemed intimate beyond belief.
It reminded Melissande of precisely how intimate matters would be between them before the night was through.At that thought, her knees weakened, but Quinn’s grip on her elbow was resolute.
“I thank you,” she said.“You, also, have managed to look reputable.”
There was an understatement.Quinn’s hair was combed to order and she could see that it was thick.The torchlight in the hall picked out coppery tones within it and it shone with good health.His shaved jaw was squared and determined, his nose straight and aquiline.
And still there were the attributes she had noted before.The green brocade tabard, though simple in pattern and cut, emphasized the breadth of his shoulders.The wool chausses of darker hue merely accentuated the lean strength of his legs.
“One glimpse and I feel I am to wed a queen,” he confessed, still smiling slightly.She sensed that he invited her to match his mood, but Melissande could not.
“My dowry might be as rich as that of a queen,” she said.“Annossy is a rare prize.”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed slightly.Melissande caught her breath as he leaned toward her and her gaze dropped to his hand.He was neither small nor weak, yet his touch was gentle.She stared at his tanned fingers, noting the few calluses.He was a man who swung a blade to earn his way.He was a man, too, and would have a man’s appetites.Melissande tingled in sudden awareness of him.
“My lady,” he whispered against her hair.Melissande kept her gaze locked on his hand.“Surely we might call a truce for the duration of our wedding night, at least.”
The way he murmured “our” with such ease made Melissande’s heart skip a beat.
But she would not show him her weakness.She summoned a smile, took a deep breath and lifted her head to meet his gaze.
“It would only be civilized,” she said with a resolve she was far from feeling.“Shall we see the deed done?”
“That is hardly in the spirit I intended,” he said.Melissande felt bereft when he turned away, his lips set in a hard line instead of the smile she found so beguiling.“But it shall be your way, my lady.The worst may as well be done sooner rather than later.”He offered his elbow with deliberate politeness and Melissande slipped her hand into it.
The worst?By her accounting, he made the better bargain.Melissande lifted her chin, determined not to show Quinn how he had pricked her pride, and walked into the chapel with him.Tulley awaited them at the altar, along with his priest.Heloise already smiled through tears that she would witness their union.It was clear that she yearned for her own wedding day, and Melissande could only hope that Tulley chose better for her.Another knight stood on the groom’s side of the chapel, and she could only assume that he was a comrade of her husband.He had dark hair and dark eyes and looked confident in his own allure.
Quinn said naught.He did not look left or right, nor did he hesitate in leading her directly to the priest.
He wanted Annossy and Sayerne united, just like his father before him.He wanted her, but only as a means to his end.She did not doubt that matters would proceed from bad to worse.
Melissande might be forced to wed this man, but she would grant him no more than necessary.
On this night or any other.
Tulley looked satisfiedwhen Quinn and Melissande entered the chapel.
Quinn was not surprised.The old lord was as fond of getting his own way as Quinn recalled.
Neither was he surprised that his intended looked as reluctant as earlier.He suspected that she and Tulley shared a determination for shaping their circumstances.In a way, Quinn marveled that Melissande would have such an expectation, for few women of his acquaintance would have been accustomed to make their own choices.
What was her history?How long had she been alone at Annossy?He had assumed that her parents had recently died, but now he wondered.It was clear that she resented the loss of command over her family holding, but why had she expected it to remain hers to administer?
