“This is for you alone.” He liked the way her hands caressed the bronze velvet. “Go ahead. Open it. No magic mirror showing your sire swiving the neighbor.”
She groaned. “Please don’t remind me.” She unwrapped the velvet and inhaled at the sight of the dagger and sheath. “My gods, Ballard, what...”
Her reaction was all he’d hoped it would be. “Many years ago I was summoned to court to welcome a foreign queen to the kingdom. Her name was Estatira; she was a warrior garbed in silk. Beautiful, powerful. She passed out gifts to the courtiers who welcomed her. I received this dagger. She told me it was a favorite of hers, one she wore as both protection and a talisman of good luck. A fitting gift for a woman of great beauty and even greater strength.”
He stiffened when Louvaen shook her head and tried to give the dagger back to him. “I can’t accept this, my lord. It’s too fine a gift, and I am no queen.”
Ballard gently pushed it back to her. “You are, Louvaen. You’re simply uncrowned.”
She blinked at his compliment, rewrapped the dagger in its velvet parcel and clutched it close to her chest. Her hand lifted and glided down his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her caress. “It’s a gift beyond price,” she whispered, her gray gaze tender. “I’ll treasure it always.”
He was interrupted from answering her by Gavin guiding a weaving Cinnia from the kitchen and toward the stairs. Louvaen left him to tend her sister. The girl yawned and offered a bleary smile. Louvaen sighed. “Come, my love. It’s bed for you.” She motioned to Gavin. “This will be the only time I’ll ask you to carry my sister to bed, de Lovet, and I’m only doing it because with us wearing these deadly long frocks, she’ll pitch us both down the stairs. So make the best of it.”
Ballard grinned as Gavin lifted a half slumbering Cinnia in his arms and took the stairs at a snail’s pace. Louvaen trailed behind them, pausing once to give Ballard a look that said she knew exactly what Gavin was doing. She winked, hugged his gift as if she were hugging him and followed his son up the stairwell.
He returned to his chamber soon after, warming pan in hand to heat the sheets. Clarimond had offered to take on the task, but he’d refused. He didn’t feel like company of any kind except Louvaen’s, and if he could muck out a stable, he could warm his bed for his lover. He’d just set the pan near the hearth when a soft knock sounded from the solar. He discovered Louvaen still in her crimson gown. She braced her hands on her hips and frowned.
“I’m trussed up worse than a stuffed goose,” she proclaimed. “You’ll have to help me out of this stupid dress. And please tell me the sheets are warm.”
She laughed when he pulled her into the solar and slammed the door. She sighed his name when he lifted her in his arms and kissed her all the way to his bed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cinnia strode into the kitchen pointing a finger at Louvaen. “You are a hypocrite!”
Magda, Clarimond and Joan stared first at a red-faced, furious Cinnia and then at Louvaen who continued to plunge the dasher up and down in the butter churn.
“So we begin,” she murmured before turning her gaze to Magda with a silent request.
The cook set down the boiled egg she was peeling and rose from the table. “Come on, lasses, to the buttery. We’ll have cyser tonight with the ale.” The two women followed her through the door leading to the buttery, leaving the sisters alone.
Louvaen maintained her rhythm on the dasher as she met her sister’s angry stare. “Why am I a hypocrite?” She knew the answer. All the sneaking about she’d been doing lately between Ballard’s chamber and hers guaranteed Cinnia would catch her at some point. She was honestly relieved to have it in the open.
Cinnia crossed her arms. “I saw you leaving the solar this morning. De Sauveterre kissed you before you left. He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.” Her cheeks rosied. “You were wearing very little.”
Louvaen shrugged and continued churning the butter. “What of it?”
Cinnia’s eyes bugged and she flung her arms wide. “What of it? What of it? You’ve been ranting at me for weeks to behave! No kissing. No touching. No embracing.” She counted the restrictions off on her fingers. “I can’t even walk with Gavin across the bailey without you tracking us like a lymer, and you’re bedding his father!”
Louvaen winced as Cinnia practically screeched in her ear. She abandoned the churn and patted a place beside her on the bench. “Sit down.”
Cinnia’s mouth thinned to a mutinous line. “I don’t want to sit down. I want to know why you think it’s just fine for you to...”
“Sit. Down.”
Moments of rebellion couldn’t conquer a lifetime of obedience. Cinnia sat.
Louvaen reached for her hand. The girl snatched it out of her reach. She sighed and met Cinnia’s glare with what she hoped was a neutral expression. “We’ve already had some of this conversation, but we’ll revisit so we both know where we stand.” She’d known they’d deal with this, even if she’d never become Ballard’s lover. “I can shackle you to my leg, tie you to my wrist and sew you into my shoes, but my best efforts won’t stop you from bedding Gavin if you insist. Are you still a virgin?”
Cinnia glared. “Yes,” she hissed. “But this isn’t about me.”
“Oh, it’s very much about you. I’m a widow. Unfair I know, but my value in society isn’t based on my maidenhead. My worth as a woman is tied to the property my husband left me and my ability to bear children. I can bed as many men as I want as often as I want as long as I’m discreet. You already know where your worth lies.
Cinnia raised her chin and scowled. “Gavin doesn’t see me in that light.”
Louvaen scowled back. “So? He hasn’t offered for you yet, has he? Until he does, what he sees doesn’t matter. Others will measure differently.”
The girl jerked up from the bench and began to pace. “You’re right. It isn’t fair. I’ve a good mind and was raised to have good character. I’m more than some stupid virginity.”
