Where had he earned his spurs?
What were his other alliances?
Why did Tulley hold him in such affection?Was it simply because Quinn was a man and a knight, or was there more of a bond between the two?
If he had left twenty years before, then she had been very young, too young to even know of him.What had her father known of him?
How did Quinn imagine he might rebuild Sayerne?She knew how much labor it would be and that it was nigh impossible, given the lack of coin and villeins at that holding.Did he have no real idea of what lay before him or was he simply optimistic?She could not imagine that he was a fool.
Would Melissande have thought differently of Quinn if she had first encountered him as he appeared on this night?She did not wish to be one whose opinion was governed by appearances, but she had to admit that she would have given this Quinn more credit.Aye, he was cursedly handsome, the man who had taken her to wife.Now that he was clean, it was impossible to ignore his allure.Yet he was not one to court the affection of every woman in the hall.She could not fail to note that.He was attentive to her, granting that dangerous smile to her alone, as should be.
How could he be Jerome’s son and share so little of that man’s wicked nature?
Or was Quinn simply better at disguising his truth than Jerome had been?
Melissande could not decide.Clearly, it was to his advantage to win her approval.Perhaps once she had surrendered to him, his charm would vanish.
As the evening continued, despite her doubts, Melissande found that sweet and unfamiliar hum of awareness building within her.It was a spell that Quinn had cast and even knowing that, Melissande enjoyed the sensation.She watched Quinn’s deft handling of his knife, admiring the grace of his hands.She smelled the heat of his skin and felt his warmth.Her heart nigh stopped when he pressed the length of his thigh to hers and did not move it away again.
Indeed, she could not take a breath, she was so shocked.
Tulley talked about the merits of barley as opposed to rye.Quinn leaned forward, apparently intent upon Tulley’s counsel.His hand was on her back again and Melissande felt her very blood simmer.She sipped her wine, seeing that her hands trembled when she placed the cup on the board.Quinn’s hand moved on her back, a lazy stroke of his thumb along her spine that melted her bones.He did not glance her way, as if he were unaware of the contact.Melissande was flustered beyond all.She did not move away, but found it impossible to follow the conversation.
“You planted barley at Annossy last season, did you not?”Tulley invited.
“Aye.”Melissande nodded, smiled, and seized her cup.
“And it fared well?”Quinn asked, almost whispering in her ear.
“Aye,” Melissande ceded, unable to summon a more authoritative response.She sipped from her cup again, relieved when Tulley abandoned his efforts to include her in the discussion.He turned to explain to Heloise the various kinds of grain that prospered locally and their merits.
Quinn’s thumb never halted.Now, he made circles on her back, enticing little circles that made her mouth go dry even as that heat spread further.
She realized that she wanted to touch him.She wanted to slip her hand beneath the table and place it on his thigh.She wanted to feel how different his body was from her own.She wanted to explore him, and that curiosity shocked Melissande truly.Did marriage make a woman wanton?Quinn laughed at a comment from his comrade Bayard and she decided she liked the hearty sound of his laughter.
“My lady?”Berthe said from behind her.
Melissande saw that the meal had been removed from the board.
It was time.
Melissande drained her cup and this time, it remained empty.Quinn’s hand closed upon her elbow to support her as she stood and she was aware of how much she needed that assistance.
“Do not trip, my lady,” he advised, his voice pitched low.Melissande felt a tide of terror that the moment was nigh upon her.Quinn gave her elbow a little squeeze and she found him smiling at her.He kissed the back of her hand, his gaze glowing.“I shall be along shortly,” he murmured, as if that was promise not threat.
Melissande stared into his eyes, astonished that she was soothed by his words.
“Aye, husband,” she managed to whisper.His quick smile sent a jolt through her.She turned hastily and the room spun.Quinn’s grip tightened on her one elbow and Berthe caught the other so that Melissande regained her balance.
How much wine had she drunk?
“Come along, my lady,” Berthe said.
“Do you need my assistance?”Quinn asked.
“Nay, nay, nay,” Melissande said, her panic rising anew.“Stay and enjoy the minstrels.”She turned quickly and stumbled anew.
Bayard had stood and he quickly steadied her.“Whoa!”he declared, then gave her an engaging smile.
