The Countess (27 page)

“Shhhhhhhh,” answered Esmeraude, looking most mischievous as she shook her finger at her mother. She laughed as she scooped the toddler up and tucked her beneath the covers.

Eglantine donned her discarded chemise and settled back in the warm hollow of the mattress. She curled around the little girl, who nestled against her happily and sighed contentment.

“Esmeraude?” The worried whisper came from outside the tent, and Esmeraude giggled, touching her fingertip to her lips.

“Did you not tell Célie where you had gone?” Eglantine asked. The toddler shook her head, clearly delighted with herself and her game, just as the maid peeked into the tent.

“Esmeraude! You should not be here!” Célie spoke evidently before she realized that Eglantine was awake, then her cheeks pinkened. “My lady, I am most sorry.”

“'Tis fine, Célie. there is no harm done.”

“But, but, 'twas my intent to grant you privacy on this night of nights...” Célie's gaze flicked across the bed for the first time and she flushed crimson, clearly having just spied Duncan there. Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper, as she wrung her hands in her apron. “Oh my lady, oh I have permitted an interruption and I am most apologetic. I shall take Esmeraude immediately...”

“Célie, my mother oft welcomed me to her bed while my father slumbered, particularly after thunderstorms. There is naught amiss in this and Esmeraude will be fine.”

Célie did not look convinced. “But my lord Theobald...”

“Is dead.” Eglantine smiled. “Do not fret about this, Célie. Indeed, I would think you might welcome some sleep without this busy one beside you.”

The maid smiled, though her flush did not fade. “Aye, my lady.” She inclined her head, glanced across the bed and reddened yet more, then ducked out of the tent with such haste that could only indicate relief.

Esmeraude waved her fingertips insouciantly. “Bye, bye, Célie.”

Eglantine bit back her smile, knowing that her daughter had achieved precisely what she had sought. “Esmeraude, you can only remain if you are a good girl.”

The toddler touched her finger to her lips and
shhhhh
ed again.

“Aye and more than that.” Eglantine gave her a cuddle. “'Tis very early, far too early to be awake. Even Gunther and Gerhard are still sleeping, and so should we. So, close those eyes—” she kissed one eyelid, then the other “- and sleep some more.”

Esmeraude spared her mother an impish smile, then nodded and burrowed deeper against Eglantine's warmth. Though she might have preferred to stay awake, the warmth betrayed the toddler and her breathing soon slowed. Eglantine cuddled back against Duncan, intending to sleep herself.

Her eyes flew open when her buttocks encountered what could only be his erection.

Eglantine looked over her shoulder to find Duncan's eyes not only open but twinkling merrily. “Shhhh,” he counseled with as much mischief as Esmeraude, one fingertip rising to his lips.

Eglantine laughed quietly. “Don your chemise, for Célie is scandalized enough,” she chided. He amiably did her bidding, sparing his cleaned yellow chemise an appreciative sniff. He lay back beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and looking most pleased.

“How long have you been awake?” she demanded in a whisper.

“Long enough to hear that your maid is surprised to find your spouse in your bed.” Duncan sobered. “This Theobald served you poorly, Eglantine. No doubt you fled France because there were those who would compel you to make such a match again.”

Eglantine turned, being careful not to disturb the sleeping Esmeraude. “None tried to compel me to wed again.”

“I think you gloss the truth, my lady. You could have found spouses of merit for your daughters more readily in France.” He smiled and cupped her chin in his hand. “I know you have yet to fully trust me, Eglantine, though I hope that one day you will feel fit to share the truth of this with me.”

Duncan turned his brilliant silver gaze upon her and his voice echoed with resolve. “But fear not, Eglantine.” He pounded his fist upon his muscled chest and his eyes narrowed. “Any who would demand any toll from you shall have to conquer me first.”

Eglantine regarded him in awe. Then she shook her head bemusedly. “You need not fear, either for your hide or for any demanding I wed another.”

“Nay?” Duncan nodded approvingly. “'Twould be the manner of sound planning typical of you to ensure that none could follow.”

Eglantine could not help but laugh at this not inaccurate assessment. “I believe, Duncan, that I owe you a story. I swear to you 'tis the truth.”

“Theobald is not dead?” Duncan's gaze turned fierce and Eglantine laid a hand upon his arm that he did not rise from the bed and see the deed done without delay.

“He is dead.” Eglantine urged a skeptical Duncan back to the pillows and laid her head upon his shoulder.

“You have a champion? Another who will pursue you and demand your hand?” Duncan scowled and Eglantine silenced him with her fingertips.

“You are worse than Esmeraude! Let me tell the tale.” He smiled beneath her touch and Eglantine laid back against his shoulder. “I suppose 'tis simpler to begin at the beginning. I was wed at fourteen to a count, one Robert de Leyrossire. The match was arranged at my birth and Robert was three decades my senior.”

Duncan made a noise that could only signify disgust.

“Alienor was his daughter by a previous match. She was four when Robert and I wed.”

“And likely as irksome then as she is now,” Duncan muttered. Eglantine chuckled but he tapped her chin with one finger. “This Robert was the man with the heir who cast you out and did not so much as permit you to attend Robert's funeral?”

Eglantine again was surprised. “Aye. But how did you know?”

“The same way that I know that Alienor made trouble for you from the first.” He smiled wryly. “She told the tale differently, but one could read the truth between her words.”

Eglantine warmed beneath Duncan's affectionate gaze. Indeed, he took her side with rare tenacity, a trait to which any woman could become accustomed.

“At any rate, I scarcely knew Robert. We met abed and that infrequently, for he was oft away securing and expanding his holdings. He was much concerned with his wealth was Robert.” Duncan snorted. “Despite that, I bore Jacqueline to him but ten months after our nuptials.” Eglantine fell silent in memory of his anger at the babe's gender. “I thought she was perfect.”

Duncan clearly heard what she did not say and anger ran beneath his words. “He did not? She is a gem!”

Eglantine shook her head, liking that Duncan too saw much of merit in her daughter. “He wanted another son and was annoyed that I defied him in this. He spent more time abroad then, but Jacqueline and I were very close. She was my solace in that place.”

“Until he died, of a chicken bone he was too proud to have your aid in removing.” Duncan nodded at the justice served in this. “He was a fool, Eglantine, and died a fool's death. What did you do when his son cast you out?”

Clearly Alienor had told him much. “I returned to my family home and there encountered a childhood friend of my brother's. Burke de Montvieux is a knight, much accomplished, a very handsome and noble man well known to our family. My brother was teasing him sorely, for Burke had finally fallen prey to a lady's charms and she had spurned him. None believed it, for Burke had much affection for the charms of women and his attentions were always returned.”

Duncan harrumphed but said naught.

“So, my brother set out to test his friend's claim. He persuaded women to try to seduce Burke, to win his ardor and prove this so-called love false. Whores and widows took his wager, for Burke would not be a small prize as spouse.

“'Twas a jest such as these two had oft played upon each other, but it made me think. Burke I knew was a man of honor, a man who would treat his lady well. We had been companionable since childhood. Indeed, he might make me a good spouse. So I took my brother Guillaume's dare.”

She smiled at a somber Duncan. “And I lost, just as all the other women lost, for Burke's heart was indeed securely held by his lady.”

Duncan smiled. “It must have been, for him to decline you.”

Eglantine felt herself blush. “But Burke explained to me the power of his love, and I understood immediately that this was how marriage should be. I even dared to believe it might be thus for me, as aged as I am.”

He shook his head. “How old
are
you, my Eglantine?”

She lifted her chin, fully expecting him to recoil. “Twenty-eight summers I have seen.”

Duncan rolled his eyes and grinned. “If that makes a crone, then I am near dead at thirty and one.”

“'Tis not the same for a man.”

“You are not so aged that love cannot be yours.” Duncan bent and kissed her so soundly that Eglantine nigh lost the thread of her tale. He smiled when he lifted his head, his fingertip tracing the line of her chin. Indeed, she could scarcely catch her breath.

He clucked his tongue. “When one who recounts a tale, Eglantine, the rhythm of the story must be kept, lest one's listeners find other matters of greater interest.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her earlobe with such attention that she decided the tale was not worth the telling.

But Duncan did not share her view. He lifted his head and grinned impishly. “And what happened next?”

Eglantine struggled to recall. “'Twas long afterward that I was at court, and I met Theobald de Mayneris, a charming knave if ever there was. He made my heart skip and I was certain this was the love of which Burke spoke. I had never had a man court me with such ardor, complement me with such abandon, grant me such thoughtful gifts.” Eglantine frowned. “Theobald charmed me, he wed me and planted Esmeraude in my belly shortly thereafter.”

Duncan was silent.

Eglantine grimaced at the memory of her own refusal to heed her good sense and frowned more deeply at the fear that she repeated her mistake. “I knew he gambled, I knew he drank and I suspected that he was not faithful, but the man had a charm that could not be denied. I erred in trusting him, 'tis true, but there were moments when it seemed worthwhile.”

Duncan stiffened beside her, his silence most telling. Did he guess that she drew a parallel between that courtship and this one? Eglantine did not want to look to his eyes and see the truth. She pleated the linens between her fingers instead. “He had naught to his name, of course, so my brother ceded a minor manor to his hand, hoping Theobald would mend his ways and become a fitting spouse.”

“He did not,” Duncan guessed, his words falling from gritted teeth.

Eglantine shook her head. “Nay, not he. But to his credit, he adored Esmeraude. He could not do too much for her, perhaps because she was his echo in most every way. She has his eyes, his charm, his sense of devilry, his temper, and his lust for his own way.” She brushed the curls back from her sleeping daughter's brow and voiced her deepest doubt. “I fear she may also have his lack of moral fiber.”

Duncan caught her shoulders in his grip and gave them an encouraging squeeze. Aye, there had been his chance to pledge his support, but he had said naught.

Because at the end of their year and a day, Duncan MacLaren would be gone. Eglantine told herself 'twas better to know the truth of it now, even though her chest was tight.

“But matters were amiable enough between us.” She continued lightly. “I ran Arnelaine myself and raised the girls, until Alienor came to our door.”

“Cheated of her dowry and seeking your aid, despite all she had done against you.” Duncan's words were filled with disapproval.

“What choice had I? She had nowhere else to flee and there was a thin link of marriage between us. Indeed, her position could easily have been my own if my own brother had denied me after Robert's death. 'Tis all too readily done. So, I took her into my home.”

“And she strove to make you regret it every day since.”

Eglantine laughed at his well-targeted conclusion, then frowned. “Well, there was another result of her presence, one that I did not anticipate. Theobald was horrified by her circumstance and began to fear for Esmeraude's future. I thought he was merely being protective of his favored one, but in hindsight, it seems he understood even then how dire our situation had become.”

“I would wager that he did not ensure Esmeraude's future with cautious choices.” Duncan looked most forbidding, though his arm was fast around Eglantine.

“Nay, not he. He gambled with new vigor, seeking to build a dowry beyond renown.” She shook his head. “I had no thought that he lost so very much until he died.”

“How did he die?”

“I would not disappoint you, but the truth is that he died most mundanely. He caught a chill, he did not cater to it and it settled into his chest. He was not a vigorous man. He came home to Arnelaine only when his servant carried him there.”

“You have been wed to witless men indeed,” Duncan said gruffly. “Any man of sense would know that you, of all women, would ensure that those beneath your hand were healed. Never have I seen a woman more sensible nor more determined to fulfill her responsibilities, regardless of the expense to herself.” He winked at her. “But then, had either of these fools turned to you, they might still draw breath and I would not be so fortunate as to share your bed.”

Eglantine was so astonished by this assessment of her character that she took a few moments to continue her tale again.

“A fever had claimed Theobald and he said naught of sense in the three days it took him to die.” Eglantine pursed her lips, feeling no pain at her loss. “'Twas after his funeral mass that I learned he had wagered and lost what was not his to lose. Theobald had gambled the seal of the holding that my brother entrusted to his hand.”