“As am I, my lady,” he said softly, tossing another stick onto the fire. There was a resignation in his move, one that made her realize how much his words were true. His tone was bleak when he continued. “I would have given much to have spoken to him again.”
Just because Isabella shared no such bond with her own father did not mean she failed to appreciate the merit of suchaffection. Indeed, her heart ached for her new spouse and his loss.
“You missed him.”
“I did.” Amaury almost smiled. “He had such a lively curiosity about the world. I often thought of him when confronted with some new scene, and wondered what he would say of it.”
“And you looked forward to sharing those moments with him.”
Amaury nodded once, frowning at the fire. She saw his throat work.
“He was a most courteous knight.”
“He was,” her husband agreed, his words thick. “And it was always his way to teach by example. There was never a harsh word from him for any of us, much less a chastisement. Yet the lesson was always there, waiting for us to heed it.” He shrugged and his voice was softer when he continued. “I can only hope that I will have such patience, when you and I are blessed with children.”
Isabella felt her skin heat at the prospect of creating those children. Even as she sat beside Amaury with his ring on her finger, it was hard to believe that this marriage was real, that it would continue, that she would live her life by his side. She was astonished to feel how fiercely she wished for that, mere hours after their vows had been exchanged.
Such was the power of this man to grant her a newfound optimism and a hope she had never possessed before. Goodness, but she might surrender everything to him!
And it might well be worth it.
“And I wish Château Montvieux had not burned. It was a most gracious hall.”
“My father’s pride.”
“And rightly so.”
“I remember when you came,” Amaury said, turning his gaze upon her. His manner was intent, his eyes so very blue, and Isabella could not look away. “It was when I earned my spurs. My father was so proud of me that my uncle’s celebration would not suffice. He had to host another fête here, at Montvieux, when I returned home.”
“And my father invited us.” Even now, Isabella was embarrassed by her father’s audacity. He had not come to wish the heir of Montvieux well or to put his ancient feud with the Lord de Montvieux at rest. He had seized upon the excuse to see inside his enemy’s hall, the better that he might discern its weaknesses. They had not been invited, but her father had presented himself and his family at the gates of Montvieux, with clear expectations.
That they had been welcomed was a measure of the grace of Amaury’s father.
There had been a kind of justice that her father had spied no weakness within his enemy’s hall, that Lucien de Montvieux had shown himself a gracious host to all and sundry, that Faydide had only added to her list of desired and expensive additions required at Marnis.
She was still embarrassed by her father’s actions, even years later.
Isabella became aware that Amaury was studying her. “Your father danced very well.”
“As did you that night,” Amaury said to her surprise. As Isabella watched, he winced. “And in my father’s choice, there was a lesson for me. I should have invited you to join the dance. I should have risen above the conflict between our fathers and made you welcome as a guest in my father’s hall. We were of an age: the offer should have come from me.”
“We should not have even been in attendance,” Isabella began.
“But you were and I did not follow my father’s example, to my shame.” He reached up and took her hand. His own was warm and his grip gentle, though she was aware of his strength. She met his gaze and might have lost herself in their blue depths when his voice dropped low. “And if I had done as much, Isabella, we might have known more of each other. I might have known what you like, what makes you laugh, and how to ensure that this night between us is a good beginning instead of an interval that might be recalled with regret.”
He seemed so sincere, and Isabella wanted to believe him with all her heart. She wished that he had not been so handsome, for she had learned to distrust men of pleasing countenance.
“I think you blame yourself overmuch,” she said, pulling her hand from his. “We were so young.”
“All the more reason to dance with abandon!”
“I like to dance but I do not very often,” she confessed without thinking and his smile flashed.
“So, this should be one of the occasions. It is only fair that a bride dance upon her wedding night, even if the celebration is a simple one.” He rose to his feet. “Though we have no hall and no company of musicians, we have the stars.”
Isabella could find no fault with the clear sky overhead. It was as dark as velvet and scattered with stars, glittering as brilliantly as gemstones. The night was fine, not too cool, and there was only a light breeze. “It is a fine evening,” she acknowledged.
Amaury’s smile broadened. “Better yet, the moon rises to smile upon us.”
