The Countess (33 page)

“What a delight to finally hold the treasure owed to me for so long.”

Revulsion rose in Jacqueline and she twisted against him. His gloved fingers dug more deeply into her skin and the squire grinned, as though he anticipated hurting her as well.

Knowing she was lost and desperate to make a difference, Jacqueline tipped her head back and screamed. She kicked with vigor, hoping she could somehow escape.

Reynaud swore, he clamped his hand over her mouth before the sound had barely left her mouth. He cast her to the bed, and Jacqueline rolled quickly, hoping to flee. But Reynaud was larger and faster than her. He settled his weight atop her, easily holding her wrists in one hand as she fought him.

He smiled, revealing his sorry excuse for teeth. “Perhaps we shall settle this matter immediately,” he said silkily. “So that there can be no question to whom you belong.”

Jacqueline's eyes widened in horror at what he meant to do, but Reynaud's features settled into harsh lines. He flicked a glance at his squire. “See that we are not disturbed, if you please. This will not take long.”

The squire bowed and stepped outside the tent, abandoning Jacqueline to Reynaud and a very certain fate.

“D
uncan MacLaren, how dare you treat my guest in this way?”

Could anything else go awry? Both girls were missing, Esmeraude had chosen again to be defiant, there was only simple fare this night and thin ale to be had. Eglantine was embarrassed enough that Burke might find her hospitality lacking.

And that without Duncan blackening the man's eye.

Though Burke seemed to take the incident with his usual grace, Eglantine was not so inclined to let it pass without comment.

“How dare you?” she demanded of Duncan, who merely glowered at her. “How could you greet a guest with your fist?”

“How could he come to court you with another woman's ring upon his hand?” Duncan demanded hotly. “What of the insult to you? If you imagine, Eglantine, that I shall stand aside while another man of Theobald's ilk treats you poorly, you are sadly mistaken.”

Though his words clearly were heartfelt, they made no sense to Eglantine. “Burke is wed,” she said carefully. “He does not come to court me.”

Duncan turned a glare upon Burke, who fingered his cheek and watched them. “He is the one who spurned you before.”

“He is the one who counseled me on the merits of love.”

“That he might share your charms,” Duncan charged heatedly.

“Nay! That I might dare to seek the charms of love.”

Duncan studied her carefully. “Then why is he here?”

“My brother sends him to ensure my welfare.” Eglantine smiled. “No more than that.”

Duncan was not to be so readily persuaded. “You greeted him with affection. You fairly leapt into his embrace!”

“Aye, Duncan.” Eglantine slipped her hand through his elbow, touched that he would defend her so ardently. “He is an old friend of our family and I feared for the pregnancy of my brother's bride. Burke brings good news, no more than that.”

“Aye?”

“Aye. Perhaps you might trust me in this.”

Duncan heaved a sigh. “Then I owe him an apology.” He offered his hand to Burke who hesitated only a moment before accepting aid in rising. “I apologize for my blow, but I thought you of Theobald's ilk.”

Burke smiled wryly. “'Tis unfortunate that you had no opportunity to grant him personally what he so roundly deserved.”

“Are you sorely injured?” Eglantine asked anxiously.

“'Tis not the first blow I have taken, nor will it be the last.” Burke grinned. “With fortune, 'twill heal before my Alys has the chance to comment upon it.”

Duncan seemed amused by this. “She will have much to say?”

Burke rolled his eyes. “Oh, indeed.” The two men grinned at each other, now in perfect understanding, and Eglantine shook her head.

“Might we show some convention of hospitality?” she asked, disliking the sense that this camaraderie was bought at the expense of herself and Alys. “The meal is hot, if you would do us the honor of joining us at our humble board, Burke.”

“I should be delighted,” he said, bowing low as though unaware of the hues already blossoming upon his cheek.

Eglantine turned expectantly to Duncan, but he hesitated. His gaze was troubled. “Nay, Eglantine, I will not come without your answer.”

“My answer?” Eglantine echoed. She felt Burke halt and turn to watch, but could not look away from the blaze in Duncan's eyes.

“Aye.” Duncan frowned, then shoved a hand through his hair before he appealed to her once more. “No obstacles remain between us, Eglantine. You know I am innocent of the crimes you held against me. I have courted your favor these months, I have sought to win you for my own. I have wooed you and I have repeatedly pledged my love.” He held her gaze steadily. “And through all of my endeavors, you accepted what I granted yet offered naught in return.”

Eglantine swallowed, her fear rising cold within her.

“I would have your answer, Eglantine. I would know whether my labors are wasted. I would know whether your heart is mine to claim.”

“I have nigh ten months left to choose,” she insisted, her heart pounding fit to burst. “I will answer you when 'tis a year and a day from our handfast.”

But Duncan shook his head heavily. “Nay, Eglantine. I cannot endure in this way, uncertain of your favor and our future. I cannot lay abed wondering whether my seed is planted in your belly, wondering what you would do if it took root. I cannot fear that you will leave, that you love another, that all I have to have to offer is not enough.”

“You know all of me there is to know.” He stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. “I ask for only three words, Eglantine, a pledge of three words from the depths of your soul, and never will I ask you for more.”

Eglantine stared up at Duncan and her mouth went dry.

She realized that she loved him. Indeed, she loved Duncan as she had never imagined she might love a man. She loved his passion and tenderness, the way he sang and the way he roared, she loved his protectiveness and his laughter and his unpredictability. Eglantine had never imagined that true love might warm her heart, but here 'twas—unsought and unexpected and undeniable all the same.

She wondered what he saw in her eyes, for a fire lit in the depths of his own. He leaned closer, as though he would will the words from her, his voice dropping low.

“Tell me, Eglantine,” he urged, his thumbs caressing her skin. “Tell me that you love me, or bid me leave. Tell me now and leave no doubts between us.”

Eglantine wanted to tell him, she truly did. She parted her lips, but fear stole her voice away. What if all went awry as soon as she uttered those words? What if she confessed her heart's desire and Duncan exploited her weakness, as Theobald had done?

She could not believe it, and her instinct urged her to confess, but Eglantine knew her instincts were faulty.

She dared not trust them, not again.

Eglantine closed her eyes and looked down, away from Duncan's burning gaze. “I cannot,” she whispered, fully expecting him to roar in fury.

But he said naught.

She waited, dreading his response, but there was none. Duncan's hands fell from her face, the loss of his touch leaving her shivering with cold. He stepped back and she dared to glance towards him, only to find him looking more defeated than ever she had believed he could.

“Then, that is answer enough,” he said quietly. “I tried and I have failed, for whatever I might offer was not sufficient for you.” He held her gaze grimly, the flicker of the firelight making him look more remote than ever he had. She was reminded of the cold stones, immovable and alien, that stood in the roads and fields of this land. She was struck as she had been on their encounter that he was wrought of something different than she.

He touched two fingertips to his lips, flicking a kiss her way. “Farewell, Eglantine.”

And against her every expectation, Duncan MacLaren turned and strode into the shadows of the night.

Eglantine looked after him in astonishment, for she had never thought he might leave her. The night swallowed him quickly, as surely as if he had never been. Eglantine heard the sea crashing upon the shore, she heard the wail of the wind, but she could hear Duncan's footfalls no longer.

He was gone.

The first sound to break from the company was Esmeraude's wail of frustration. She ran from the back of the assembly to halt where Duncan had last stood. And she cried his name, stretching out her arms in entreaty. The sound tore at Eglantine's heart and the household huddled together whispering.

Eglantine stepped forward and lifted Esmeraude, fighting against her own tears. She bounced the child and tried to console her.

“Duncan!” Esmeraude wrapped one hand around her mother's neck, though she stretched one hand after Duncan as though she would beckon him to return.

She could not tell the child that Duncan was gone. She could not say the words, for that would make his departure more of a reality than Eglantine desired. So, she made nonsense sounds and hummed to her daughter. But no matter how Eglantine turned, Esmeraude looked after the man who had sung to her so many times. Esmeraude buried her face in Eglantine's neck and wept noisily, finally taking solace from her thumb.

Eglantine glanced up to find Burke's gaze upon her and knew she had shown him a poor welcome this night. “I must apologize, Burke. You find our household in less that ideal circumstance.”

“No apology is needed,” Burke said with his customary grace. “'Tis sufficient to know that you and yours are well.”

“How is Alys?” Eglantine asked belatedly, refusing to look into the darkness behind her, to wonder whether Duncan would return.

Surely he could not be gone for good?

Surely she could not have lost him in truth?

Eglantine hated that she did not know. She would never have anticipated that his conviction to win her had any limit, but the expression before he strode away had been eloquent.

And the dread she had felt of showing her weakness was a mere shadow compared to the consuming fear that she would never see Duncan MacLaren again.

Burke smiled, the expression making him look much younger and less stern. “Alys is well enough, though she will have my hide if I am not home before our second child is due.” He did not appear too troubled about this threat and Eglantine forced a smile in turn.

“Your son must be getting tall,” she said, feeling 'twas a hopelessly inane comment but knowing she should make conversation with her guest.

Burke set his chalice aside and leaned forward, propping his elbows upon his knees. “Eglantine, once upon a time, I told you of the power of the love that can blossom between a man and a woman.”

“Aye, you told me of Alys.”

“Aye, I hoped to inspire you to seek better for yourself than what you had clearly been granted with Robert.” Exasperation crossed his features. “You have always been so practical, Eglantine. I could not believe when I heard that you were wedded to Theobald de Mayneris, for all the world knew that he was a worthless rogue.” Burke's eyes narrowed. “I thought, as many others likely did, that you had reformed him, that you typically had wrought gold from dross.”

Eglantine shook her head and hugged Esmeraude closer. “Not I.”

“Nay, I know that now.” Burke watched her closely. “He used you sorely, Eglantine, and I fear that my counsel led you astray.”

“Nay, Burke. 'Twas naught but my own poor judgment at root.”

But the knight shook his head and spoke with resolve. “Nay, Eglantine. I have no doubt that Theobald set deliberately to deceive you and, similarly, I would wager that he insisted that you wed quickly. Even he would have discerned that you could not be fooled for long.”

Eglantine managed a thin smile. “It matters little, now that he is gone.”

Burke shook his head. “Nay, it matters greatly if you measure all men against Theobald's shortfalls.”

Eglantine caught her breath. Should she have admitted the truth and told Duncan what he desired to hear?

Would he have stayed by her side if she had? Would he have continued to love her as he had done thus far?

Was he as different from Theobald in this one way as in all others?

Burke reached to wipe the last of Esmeraude's tears, then met Eglantine's gaze steadily. “You have always been a woman of good sense, Eglantine. Never would I have imagined that a child of two summers would show more astute judgment than you.”

“I have no good instincts when it comes to men,” she argued weakly. “'Twas that at root of my match with Theobald.”

Burke arched a brow. “Aye? And what is your instinct in this moment?”

Eglantine looked at her child. She knew with sudden clarity that she could not let Duncan leave her side. She loved him, beyond reason and belief, and could not imagine awakening without him at her side.

“I could lose him,” she whispered, the words sending a chill down her spine.

Burke nodded impatiently. “If you have not already. That was a man with tolerance expired, if ever I have seen one. What does your heart tell you to do, Eglantine?”

She swallowed. “To follow Duncan. To persuade him to listen.” She smiled uncertainly. “To confess my love.”

Burke smiled and lifted Esmeraude from her arms. “As I said, Eglantine, you have always been a woman of splendid good sense.”

Esmeraude chose that moment to wail anew and Eglantine was torn between the new bond forged between they two and her desire to chase Duncan.

But Burke bounced Esmeraude on his knee with the confidence of a man who had soothed toddlers before. “Esmeraude, if your mother goes to fetch Duncan, would you be so kind as to wait with me?”

The little girl considered him in silence, sucking her thumb with rare diligence. Though Eglantine wished the child would hasten her choice, Burke seemed to understand her need for reassurance.

“'Tis the strangest thing, Esmeraude, but I have a son a bit bigger than you. On this journey, I miss him terribly.” He leaned closer to confide this and Eglantine almost laughed to see Esmeraude respond so predictably to his charm.

She preened coyly and Burke smiled. “Indeed, there is a tale I always tell him in the evening, though I have not recounted it for over a month. I fear I might forget and oh, he would be sorely disappointed in me.” Burke snapped his fingers as though struck by a thought. “Might I tell it to you instead? Would you listen and tell me whether it still seems a good tale?”

Esmeraude's features lit up and she eyed the knight expectantly. “Tell me a story. Now.” She did not cuddle close to him as she did with Duncan, but she clearly was contented enough to remain.

“Oh, Burke, I thank you for this.” Eglantine's hands rose to her hair and she realized she was in no state to plead with a man to remain forever by her side.

“Go,” Burke insisted, then he smiled with a confidence Eglantine was far from feeling. “Duncan will see naught but the stars in your eyes.”