Aye, a broken nose would add character to his face.
“You take advantage of my intended’s soft heart,” de Roche said to Stephen, then turned to Isobel. “You need not take some unknown girl this man has picked up off the streets.”
Isobel put her arm about the girl’s shoulders. “But where shall I find another maid who can read poetry to me?”
Stephen wanted to kiss her.
The muscles of de Roche’s jaw tightened, but he patted Isobel’s hand. “Keep her if it pleases you, my dear.”
The endearment reminded Stephen what this man would be to her. Her husband. Her bedmate. His chest began to ache.
“Come, I will show you my chamber,” Isobel said to Linnet.
Isobel nodded her good-bye to François, but the smile left her face when she turned to take her leave of Stephen. As she looked at him with those wide, serious eyes, the ache inside him grew until he thought his chest might burst with it.
She seemed to startle when de Roche tugged at her arm. With a quick curtsy, she turned away.
He and François were still watching when Linnet turned to give them a sly wink over her shoulder. Linnet was an ally now, thanks to de Roche. As twelve-year-old girls went, she was not a bad ally to have.
Ally in what? Stephen took a deep breath and shook his head. What would he do if he won the prize? He wanted to take Isobel from de Roche, have her leave on his arm instead. And he most definitely wanted her in his bed. Badly. But since he did not want a wife, this was a battle he had no business trying to win.
He felt a light touch on his arm and turned to find Claudette at his side.
“What a foolish man you are!” she said in a low voice. “Stop staring after her. Do you want everyone to know?” She took his arm and firmly turned him toward François. “Since it is better to have them think you lose your head over every pretty woman, try to look at me as this boy does.”
When he looked down and saw the slack-jawed expression on the boy’s face, he laughed and tousled François’s hair. The poor boy was having quite the day.
“Do you want the king to banish you to the wilds of Ireland?” Claudette said between her teeth. She smiled and batted her eyes at him. “You do Lady Hume no favors by drawing attention to her.”
Realizing, belatedly, that Claudette was right, he picked up her hand and kissed it. He let his gaze linger on her.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “You are a wise woman.”
“Of course you missed me,” she said in a voice just loud enough to be overheard, “but you will make me vain with such compliments!”
“I do not deserve you, Claudette.”
“You do not,” she agreed and began walking him out of the hall. Dropping her voice again, she said, “There is that dreadful Marie de Lisieux, lying in wait for you near the door.”
“I suppose I should cast lustful glances her way,” he whispered back to tease her.
“I know how difficult that is for you, Stephen.”
He gave Marie a broad wink and swiveled his head as they passed.
Claudette gave him a hard pinch for his efforts. “I did not say you must stare at her bosom.”
He laughed with genuine amusement this time. “Marie would think something was amiss if I did not.”
“Just looking at her makes my back ache,” Claudette said, lifting one delicate eyebrow in disdain. “No matter what the fashion, men will always like big breasts.”
“Not every woman can have your perfect proportions,” he told her, as he knew she expected him to. “But, in sooth, I do not think I have ever seen a pair I did not like.”
“Men are so simple.” She heaved a sigh of feigned weariness that made him laugh again.
When they were safely out the door, she turned and wagged a finger in his face. “Now let us be serious. You must promise me you will use that clever head of yours and not get into a cockfight over Lady Hume.”
He opened his mouth to object, but she held her hand up.
