Quinn had a hundred questions but doubted she would confide in him.
If he had hoped for his intended to approve of the change in his appearance and be more welcoming as a result, Quinn was to be disappointed.She took his arm as if she could not bear to touch him and Quinn’s annoyance rose.He saw Bayard note the lady’s reluctance and did not doubt his comrade would have advice for him on the morrow.He was irked and marveled again that this lady should have the power to so rile him when he was known for his temperance.
She did not appreciate his assets and that was the sum of it.
Quinn was not so foul to look upon, and he was a knight.He would hold Sayerne, though it had no wealth in this moment, but he was resolved to rebuild it.He was prepared to labor for his goals and to treat his lady wife with the respect such a woman deserved.But it was evident that Melissande had condemned him.
Was her hatred of his father so profound as that?If so, they shared that view.One would think they might be able to build upon that common ground.
Of course, they could only do as much if his wife spoke to him.
He had to wonder what precisely she knew of his father’s deeds.Was her attitude the result of some old crime?Or did she simply look down upon all who were not of the line of Annossy?It could well be that such a lady had been raised to believe that no man was deserving of her charms.
Quinn did not know whether to take reassurance from the possibility that her dislike of him was not personal.
Indeed, there was something about this lady that annoyed Quinn, yet at the same time, he felt an uncommon desire for her.It was dangerous for a woman to have such power over him, and he could only hope that it diminished in time.
Perhaps their wedding night would see his characteristic calm restored.Her beauty made him keenly aware that he had been celibate for the entirety of his journey on crusade.Was that the reason for his annoyance?That he was more than ready to celebrate their match and she was not?Was it merely pride?
Ye gods, what if she denied him this night?What if there was no evidence of consummation to show Tulley in the morning?
Should he feign it, by shedding his own blood on the sheets?
He was caught to be sure, between the lady’s desire and that of Tulley.Tulley, however, could exact the higher cost.
Quinn led his bride to the altar, wondering if he made a dreadful a mistake in taking this frosty lady to wife at all.Would he rue this day for the rest of his life?The priest began to bless the match with the familiar words.
In truth, Quinn had no choice.The dream of Sayerne had sustained him for years.He supposed it was no surprise that Tulley had guessed the truth.
Those attacks upon Annossy’s borders must vex the old lord more than Quinn had realized.Tulley must believe his holdings were at risk, which made Quinn and Melissande pawns in the older man’s game.
If Melissande did not thaw this night, Quinn resolved, he would avoid her.He would cut his own finger to give Tulley the sign he desired, then Quinn and the lady would separate.Between their two estates and the work required to rebuild Sayerne, it should be simple to do.
There was an old saying: wed once for duty and thence for love.Perhaps his next match would be one of the heart.He found himself thinking of his mother, and his heart filling with sadness as the priest blessed them.
If naught else, Quinn could do better than his own father.
“And the ring?”the priest invited.
Quinn realized he had not planned for this exchange, but then he had been given little opportunity to do as much.He looked down at the golden ring on his smallest finger and resolved to offer it in the spirit of a joined future.“It was my mother’s,” he said quietly to Melissande, then removed it from his hand.He held it over her left hand, over each finger in succession.“In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”Then he pushed the ring onto her middle finger, the same finger his mother had worn it upon.
“Is it your sole token of her?”she asked, looking down at the ring.
Quinn could not read her mood.“Aye.She surrendered it to me as a token when I left.”
Melissande nodded and eyed the ring, her thoughts hidden from Quinn.Something in her seemed to have softened at the mention of his mother.
“You may seal your pledge with a kiss of peace,” the priest said.
Quinn glanced down to find Melissande watching him intently.Her eyes flashed, though he could not have said whether it was fear or desire.Then she dropped her gaze, hiding her thoughts from him once more.
But she had responded to his touch before.Could there be promise in this match?
A man could only try.
“Aye,” he replied to the priest.“One must adhere to tradition.”
Melissande inhaled sharply.Did she dread his kiss or her own reaction to it?
