“Aye.”Melissande could not fault him for that choice, or for the sympathy in his gaze.
“But I would seek your advice in this matter, my lady.”
“Mine?”
“Yours.”His gaze clung to hers.“You know Annossy as no other, my lady,” he murmured, his voice no less intent that his expression.“Have you not discerned that this is a challenge we must conquer together?”
“And then what?”she dared to ask.
Quinn smiled.“And then, we shall conquer another.”He caught her hand in his and bent over it, kissing its back with a flourish.
Melissande felt a tumult inside herself and stepped back, retreating from his persuasive touch.“Berthe found my father’s tabard and cloak,” she said, her words falling in an uncharacteristic rush.“Perhaps both will suit you.And Michel has taken some of my father’s chemises for you.”
“I thank you, even though you will not meet my gaze when you speak of these garments.”He spoke in that thoughtful tone and she found her cheeks burning again.Quinn touched her chin, compelling her to look up.He studied her and she feared he could see all her doubts.
“I did not realize the tabard was yet here,” she admitted.“I thought it buried with him.And I forgot about the cloak.”
“And you do not wish me to claim them?”he asked, no judgment in his tone.
“That would be impractical.They go to waste, left in a trunk.”
Quinn shook his head.“They are the root of fond memory, Melissande,” he said with soft heat.“I would not influence that.”
It was curious to have him be the one who understood her emotions so well, but Melissande had been taught to avoid sentimentality.“You should wear them,” she found herself saying.“’Tis only right.”
“If you truly believe as much,” he said and touched his lips to her brow.She shivered to her toes, but with desire instead of cold.Quinn smiled as he looked down at her.“Your eyes have darkened, my lady,” he said lightly.“Is it possible that you will have an invitation for me this night?”
Melissande caught her breath and turned away, despising her own weakness.A kiss, a murmured confidence, a little understanding, and she was prepared to grant him all.
Perhaps women truly were weaker.
Quinn was not readily deterred.He claimed her elbow and entered the hall with her.Melissande found it reassuring to have his heat so close behind her back and was belatedly aware of how many watched them together.She led him to the board, where she had finished her mending, his touch making her feel skittish.
“I think the tabard will fit you, for my father was broad of shoulder as well, and the insignia is already upon it.The cloak will keep you warmer than that worn one you have...”
As had so often been his wont, he silenced her with a fingertip.This time, he planted it upon the back of her hand, where she touched the tabard.“Who did this needlework?”he asked softly.
Melissande took a breath.“My mother.”
“And your father wore it?”
She nodded, then felt Quinn’s arm slide around her waist.He stood behind her and bent so that his lips were close to her ear.
“Tell me,” he invited.
“There is naught to tell.They are garments, no longer used.You should wear them.”
There was silence for a long moment.“You must feel as if everything that belonged to your father now comes to me.”
She straightened but did not speak.
“You must feel that to be unjust.”
“It is not my place to feel it to be just or unjust,” she said, her voice more sharp than she had intended.“I am only a daughter, a mere woman and a vessel.My sole merit lies in my womb.”
“Nay.”Quinn spoke with such conviction that she had to look up.She found him watching her, his gaze warm, a smile of admiration upon his lips.“You have so much merit, my lady wife, that I fear I do not deserve to have your hand in mine.I am pledged to earn your regard, no matter what the price, for I know that if we were truly allies, naught would obstruct our path.”
She stared into his eyes, wanting to believe him, then called herself a fool and turned away.“You say that to encourage an invitation,” she accused and he laughed heartily.
