“If you do not wed my choice, you will lose all this very day.”
Melissande was startled.“I shall see your word tested, sir.I shall appeal to the emperor himself!”
“Whose authority is thin this far from his court,” Tulley responded.“Do you think that he will strain his relations with me over the pleas of a landless noblewoman, however beauteous she might be?Annossy is mine to grant as I see fit.I could easily make an argument that your refusal to wed threatens the security of my borders.”The lord settled back in his chair again.“Do you truly imagine that he would take your side?”
Melissande stared at her shoes.“I made a vow at my father’s behest.”
“And now you will make another.”Tulley’s gaze was resolute.
Melissande would be wed, regardless of her own will.
Soon.
And likely to a man whom she did not know.
Melissande could imagine no worse fate than this.She had been tutored by both her parents to administer Annossy, due to their lack of a son, and she knew she excelled at the task.It was unfair for her abilities to be discarded, simply because of her gender, and her blood simmered at the injustice of her situation.
“At least, you have seen the wisdom of holding your tongue,” Tulley muttered.
Melissande took three deep breaths before she trusted herself to speak.“Who would you insist I wed, my lord?”
A rap at the door to the lord’s office interrupted whatever Tulley might have replied.The lord smiled, his expression prompting Melissande to glance toward the portal.
A knight filled its frame.
Nay, not a knight but a renegade.
Foreboding touched Melissande’s heart.Not a ruffian.Surely Tulley would not wed her to a man far beneath her social status.She said a silent prayer as the room, which had seemed too warm just a moment past, felt suddenly chilly.
Was this one of the men in that ragged party they had glimpsed on the road?Nay, it could not be.They had ridden in the same direction and there were several holdings east of Annossy, as well as abandoned Sayerne and high mountain passes blocked with snow.
Nay, her first impulse had to be wrong.This had to be some man-at-arms in Tulley’s employ.A messenger or a mercenary.His arrival at this moment was naught but a coincidence.He brought a message, no more than that.
But still Melissande looked.
He was tall and broad of shoulder, though his travel-stained garb made him look rough and disreputable.His mail glinted in the candlelight, half-hidden beneath a tabard with a torn hem.A well-worn cloak was tossed over his shoulders, its hem dirty, and his thick leather gloves were scuffed from years of heavy wear.His boots were worn and dirty.His armor was not grand and it was not for appearances only.
He was a warrior, one who had meted death and confronted it.
Melissande shivered, intrigued despite herself.
He carried his helmet and ran one hand through the length of his untrimmed hair as she surveyed him, as if he sought to groom himself.It was an ineffective effort.His hair was wavy but clearly unclean, falling to his shoulders.There was stubble on his chin and a streak of mud across his cheek.His eyes were the most remarkable hue of amber and they lit with appreciation after his gaze swept over her.
Indeed, the corner of his mouth lifted, as if he might smile, and the expression was more beguiling than it had any right to be.
Melissande told herself that he must be plagued with lice, and took a step back.
Perhaps he had sought out Tulley to pledge his blade to that lord’s service.
But the châtelain would never have shown him into this chamber while she conferred with Tulley, if that had been the case.The vagabond would have been left to wait in the hall.
God in heaven,nay.
“My lord,” intoned Tulley’s châtelain.“Quinn de Sayerne, son of Jerome de Sayerne, as you requested.”
Son of Jerome de Sayerne!Melissande regarded the arrival with new horror as the truth proved to be even worse than her suspicions.Jerome de Sayerne was finally dead, but his son arrived to plague her anew.That lecherous serpent could only have spawned a son of no greater merit than himself.
Melissande had believed Annossy’s troubles over when Jerome died.Though it was not difficult to believe Jerome’s son might sell his blade as a mercenary.The thievery Jerome had initiated against her family’s holdings had nearly destroyed Annossy.
