The Order of the Lily (16 page)

‘The auction!' cried Cécile. She glanced sideways at Alfred. ‘Did milord inform you as to the nature of our errand this morning, Alfred?'

‘No, milady. He said you had the details but that I was to keep you in my sight at all times and assist where necessary.'

‘Aha,' replied Cécile, turning Ruby's head towards the field. ‘I see. The truth is that Gillet was going to bid at this auction on an animal of my choosing, and you must now act on his behalf. Come.'

Alfred tied the horses and Cécile removed the bag of coin from her saddle. ‘Do you understand how auctions work?'

Alfred pursed his lips. ‘I believe so, milady.'

‘Good. First I want you to inquire about that animal over there. The Andalusian lifted its head and snorted, quivering muscle from head to glossy tail. ‘Find out if it is still sold and if not, make the name of Albret heard.'

Alfred returned to inform Cécile that the beast was indeed for sale. ‘Apparently the gentleman who bought it last week has changed his mind. It is whispered that he could not manage the beast.'

‘Alfred, I simply
must
have that horse for Gillet!' She thrust the money pouch at him. ‘Will we have enough coin, do you think?'

Alfred opened the bag and let out a low whistle. ‘More than enough for the horse's worth, but I fear you will have other bidders. It may depend on how high the price is driven.'

Cécile was dancing on hot ashes by the time the elegant steed came up for purchase. He was magnificent! Tall, with an elegantly proportioned body and strong legs, his silver mane and low-set tail shimmering against his mulberry dappled coat.

‘I can see why you want him,' said Alfred.

Cécile was almost beside herself. ‘Use all the coin, if you must. I have to have him!'

The bidding began and Alfred entered into a four way contest but, after ten minutes of haggling and the price climbing ever higher, it was down to two contenders, Alfred and an arrogant young man.

‘He is taking the price very high, Mademoiselle,' remarked Alfred, sounding doubtful.

‘I want that horse,' hissed Cécile. ‘Who is he, anyway?'

Alfred offered his next bid. ‘Lord Humphrey, son of the Earl of Hereford, Sir William de Bohun, and a young upstart.' The man was undeniably throwing some very sour glances in their direction. ‘He has driven the price up again, Mademoiselle, but I do believe we have him against the blade. He will fold soon, but it will take all of your coin.'

‘Do it!'

When the bidding closed Cécile squealed with delight and threw her arms around Alfred's neck. She had won! Clutching the parchment of ownership to her breast, she made arrangements for stabling the horse overnight. She wished to surprise Gillet the following day and Alfred would return to collect the beast in the morning. She could barely contain her excitement.

Gillet returned at dusk, dismayed at the deliberate damage suffered by the mill. Feeling too full of good will, Cécile slid onto his lap after they had shared an intimate supper in her chamber. She nestled her cheek against his grizzled chin and he sighed resignedly.

‘Tell me of your day. How did you fare at the dressmaker's?' His eyebrow lifted questioningly at her lack of response.

Playfully she bit his neck. ‘The trip was beyond my expectation.'

‘And the boots, they were ready?'

Cécile gently gnawed his lips. ‘Hush, milord. I have spent all your money and all shall be delivered tomorrow.' She undid his belt and let it drop to the floor. ‘Do you wish me to recount every detail?' Her fingers worked the laces on his chausses.

‘No,' he growled, hoisting her into his arms.

They were awoken at the early rays of dawn the next morning to an urgent knocking at the chamber door. Hastily dressing, Gillet was informed by Veronique that two men had just been seized at the mill. He dropped a quick kiss on Cécile's forehead and rushed to the stable.

Using Gillet's absence to her advantage, Cécile hurriedly dressed and dispatched Alfred to the village to collect her prize. Then she went in search of Llewellyn.

Convincing the old groom to move a high-spirited filly, currently occupying the front stall, used all of her guile, but she wanted the new stallion to be the first horse Gillet would see when he entered the stable. The secret smile she wore as she trod through the outer courtyard suddenly faded. Gillet was striding towards her with the mien of the Archangel Michael about to confront Satan. Behind Gillet followed Griffith and two soldiers, each of whom held fast a furiously struggling youth.

‘Find Alfred,' he snapped over his shoulder. ‘Merde. Where in damnation is he?' His eyes fell on Cécile just as Gwynedd came running from the direction of the stable to intercept him.

‘Sire, father wants Griffith come to 'is aid in stable.'

‘Your father will have to wait,' said Gillet, without stopping.

‘But Sire,' insisted Gwynedd, running to keep up, ‘he's havin' some difficulty wi' removin' the bay mare from the stall. 'e needs Griffith to help now.'

Gillet spun around impatiently. ‘And just why does he feel it necessary to move the horse? Can this not wait?'

Taken aback at his tone, Gwynedd blushed and then noticing Cécile watching them, she bared her teeth. ‘It's not 'is fault! He were only obeyin' orders.
She
were in the stable just now givin' 'em.'

‘What?'
Gillet whirled around to Cécile, the last remnants of his temper escaping. ‘Did I
not
give you explicit instructions that you were to stay away from the stables? And by what right do you presume to shift my horses around?' He jerked as a scuffle sounded from behind him. One of the young men had almost broken loose. ‘God almighty! Where is Alfred?'

Cécile's cheeks instantly suffused with bright red and she swallowed heavily.

‘I … I sent Alfred to the village on an errand.'

Every eye fell upon her in astonishment and Cécile felt her face burn even hotter. Gillet clenched his fist and Gwynedd smiled.

‘You may be my mistress, Cécile,' he said, ‘but that does not give you leave to order
my
men or move
my
stock at your pleasure. And certainly
not
without consulting me first! I require Alfred
here and now
. I want him to deliver these miscreants to the magistrate.'

Noting the satisfaction on the faces of the soldiers as Gillet reprimanded her, Cécile desperately tried to redeem herself. ‘Are your men not worthy of such a task, milord?' Gillet's face changed colour and she realised immediately she had trodden too far into the male world. Her mistake of gainsaying him, especially in front of an audience, was unforgivable. From the corner of her vision she saw Gwynedd stifle her giggle.

‘Do you deign to tell me how to run my own estate or my soldiers, Mademoiselle?'

A shiver ran over Cécile's skin at his cold tone. The clopping of horses' hooves disrupted Gillet's next words and he turned to see Alfred trotting into the courtyard. Gillet's mouth fell open as he clapped eyes on the Andalusian and he held his arms wide in supplication. ‘What in God's holy ordinance is going on here?'

But Cécile was anchored by abject wretchedness and all she could see was Gwynedd's insufferable smirk. ‘It … it … is a gift … in honour of your name day.' Her pleasure from a few moments ago plummeted, and once more feeling out of sorts, she burst into tears and fled to her chamber.

As Cécile wept her failure into the pillow, she also knew not to expect Gillet any time soon. It was her fault he had lost face in front of his men. He would hardly come running after a hysterical mistress. Gillet's temper, she rationalised, could be likened to storms. Some appeared out of nowhere and blew over very quickly, with little to no damage. Others were more threatening, but none of them ever lasted long. What really stuck in her throat was that Gwynedd would now be the one by his side as he installed his new horse. She clenched her fists harder. She should not have quit the courtyard, but that's girl's leering grin had unseated her. Had Gillet not noticed that for a servant, she stood far too close to him?

By the time the bed sank beneath Gillet's weight, Cécile had sobbed herself into a doze. He brushed the unkempt strands from her face and gently pressed his hand against her burning brow. Her eyes slowly opened to meet his smile. ‘I have spoken with Alfred, and a clearer picture presents itself of the events this morning. Can you forgive me,
mon chére
?' He held out his arms and Cécile buried herself into his neck.

‘I'm sorry, Gillet. I should never have outspoken you.' The familiar, refreshing scent of sandalwood emanated from his skin and she inhaled deeply. Her love for this man could sometimes be a feeling akin to giddiness. ‘My papa's sister, Aunt Martha, used to make soap that smelled like this,' she whispered.

Gillet grinned. ‘Silly goose,' he chided softly, ‘you forget that Dame Martha is also
my
aunt. It is the same soap. She sends me a pannier load every Noël.' He ran a finger down her flushed cheek. ‘Thank you for the horse, sweetheart. As I understand it, you have ruffled the feathers of the new Earl of Hereford. He may not take kindly to having his nose tweaked by a woman.'

‘But Alfred named him the heir.'

‘For now, but his father lies gravely ill. 'Twill not be long before Humphrey de Bohun is Earl.'

‘Are you telling me I have made another enemy here in Chilham?'

‘No. But his nature is not one to let a slight pass by. Be careful of him, Céci. He already harbours ill-feelings for me.'

Cécile sighed pensively. ‘Was Gwynedd at the stables?'

‘Oui, she assisted me to settle Goblin into his new stall.'

‘Goblin?' Cécile pulled out of his arms.

‘Yes,' he grinned, ‘I have named him in honour of my Lady Sprite.'

‘She is very beautiful, Gillet.'

‘Don't you mean “he?”'

Cécile inhaled slowly, taking in her fill of the man who owned her body, heart and soul. ‘No, I mean Gwynedd.'