“I had Ambrose enchant me so I wouldn’t scare her. It’s enough for her right now to listen to my father’s agony. I will tell her everything, but I want to give her time to adjust to us, to Ketach Tor.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I mean her no harm. None of us do. Please trust me. Trust us.”
He didn’t know her character or that what he asked of her was something Louvaen didn’t give easily. “How do I know you aren’t just trying to flip a pretty skirt?”
At this, Ambrose broke his silence with a loud guffaw. Gavin and Louvaen scowled at him as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Mistress Duenda, take a good look. Is that a man who must resort to hostage-taking just to tup a woman? Your sister is a beautiful girl but not the only beautiful girl in the world, and Gavin is as comely as she is. Why go through all this trouble for a roll in the hay? He could easily have them lined up outside the barbican if he wanted.”
Gavin’s face flamed even hotter. “Ambrose, please.”
As much as she hated to admit it, the magician had a point. Ever since Cinnia had shown the first hints of womanhood, Louvaen had been fending off what seemed like every breathing male in Monteblanco and beyond. Any man who so much as nodded politely to Cinnia in the market was suspect and viewed by Louvaen with a jaundiced eye. Her zealousness as guardian had made her myopic. Gavin was as stunningly beautiful as the woman he courted. Ambrose was right; Gavin must want more than a quick tupping. Still, she had to ask the one question that haunted her since she’d found Cinnia’s letter in her abandoned room. “My sister came here a maiden. Is she still a maiden?”
He met her gaze with a steady one of his own. “Aye, she is. While I want her as any man would, I won’t dishonor her.”
She wondered if she might faint with relief. Cinnia had said she was still an innocent. She wanted Gavin to confirm it. Such a thing had no real importance were they betrothed, but he had yet to offer for Cinnia’s hand, and the likelihood—no matter how slim—that Cinnia might refuse still existed. “You realize if we accept your aid, it will be trading her to one man over another for money.”
Gavin smacked his hand against the tabletop hard enough to make the cups bounce. “Gods, but that’s becoming a tiresome refrain. There is no trade! It is a gift freely given. I love Cinnia. All I ask is time. Give me the winter to win her hand. If I can’t, she is free to go and nothing owed. She will be treated as an honored guest of the de Sauveterre household and given all rights of hospitality.”
Louvaen had never considered herself a mercenary sort, but she’d never been faced with a situation such as this. Hospitality included gifts to the guests, and gifts were often money or items of value. She wasn’t at all certain she could salvage Cinnia’s reputation in Monteblanco if Cinnia refused Gavin’s suit and returned home. They’d be forced to leave, find another town far enough away that no one would know about the Hallis sister who flew off with the de Lovet lad and ruined herself with him. Hospitality money would pay their way. They’d flee in shame but not in absolute poverty. Her fingers still tingled with the urge to strangle her sister and her suitor.
Ambrose drummed his fingers on his tankard. “What now, Mistress Duenda? Cinnia has told us enough of your predicament. You’ve sold your husband’s business, his lands and his investments. All that remains is your house and some livestock—not enough to pay even a portion of Jimenin’s markers. Your father stands at the prison gates and your sister at a cleric’s door threatened with marriage to a man rumored to have murdered the two wives he’s already buried. Gavin has offered to pay Jimenin with no expectations in return except for time spent with your sister. It’s a small thing—certainly compared to what Jimenin demands, and Gavin is an honorable man.”
Was there anything Cinniahadn’ttold them about their situation? “I’m guessing your magic only works so far past Ketach Tor, and with those eyes Gavin can’t be the one to make payment.
“How is it you can still see the change in his eyes when others can’t?” Curiosity had replaced the sneer in Ambrose’s voice.
“If you couldn’t already tell by the look of us, Cinnia and I were born to different mothers. Mine was a hedgewitch. She died birthing me so I have no training, only a sensitivity to magic.” She leveled a hard gaze on Ambrose. “And sometimes a resistance to it.”
“Yet you reject it.” He shook his head, brow furrowed. “Why?”
She snorted. “That’s another tale entirely and one of no importance here.” She turned to Gavin. “My father can’t wait for the flux to end. I’ll bring the money to Jimenin.” She drew a deep breath and prayed she’d made the right decision on her sister’s and father’s behalf. “Payment then for a winter of courtship.” Gavin’s expression lit up and then dimmed when Louvaen held up a finger. “But only if I can return and act as her guardian.”
Ambrose groaned as if someone had just knifed him under the table. “Gods help us.”
Gavin shook his head. “That isn’t within our authority. Not even mine. This is my father’s home. He decides who stays.”
She crossed her arms. “Then no bargain.”
The art of negotiation favored not the one with the better odds but the one who could convince his opponents that his were the best odds. Louvaen waited.
He stroked his lip with one finger, lost in thought. “Time is as much against you as it is us. Would you trust us to send you home with the payment and a token to guide you back to Ketach Tor? I can’t vouch for my father’s willingness, but I can guarantee you the chance to speak with him about it. He will be...improved by the time you return. Cinnia remains under our protection, an honored guest.” He eyed her with a look of both resignation and respect. “I’m aware her affection for me can turn in an instant if any harm comes to you from a mistake of mine.”
It was a fair offer considering the circumstances, and Louvaen couldn’t think of another option that worked to her benefit. “If you swear on those feelings you profess you hold for Cinnia to uphold your end of this bargain, then I’ll leave her long enough to deliver Jimenin the monies.” She held out her hand, along with a warning. “I’m no mage, but I’m familiar enough with the left-hand path. It gives no quarter to an oath-breaker.”
Gavin clasped her palm in a firm grip. “I swear it. On my own blood—”
“Careful. She’s already extracted some of your father’s.” Ambrose shook his head, clearly disapproving of the entire plan.
“On whatever you wish. The token we give you will lead you back to Ketach Tor when your business with Jimenin is concluded. You can then speak with my father.”
Louvaen nodded. “A handshake is adequate enough.” The two shook and Ambrose pronounced the bargain struck.
She stood. “You understand I intend to tell Cinnia every word we’ve discussed here?”
Gavin nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I’m off to gather my things. Can you ready my horse in an hour?”
He rose as well. “Aye. I’ll have the monies in a pack waiting for you. You’re a woman traveling alone. Ambrose can enchant the pack, along with the token, so that it’s unseen.” He bowed and strode from the kitchen.
Louvaen gazed after him while she addressed Ambrose. “I’ll thank you not to give me a bauble that will drop me off the nearest cliff when I return.”
