Chapter 2
Melissande was humiliated. Not only was her pledge ignored but she was compelled to wed Jerome’s son within the hour. Worse, Tulley himself would check the linens in the morning for evidence of the match’s consummation. Her agreement was not sufficient to appease him and that irked her beyond all.
If only Jerome’s son had not returned with such haste, she might have found Arnaud herself.
She did not believe that he had betrayed their vow and wed Marie instead.
Why else would Tulley insist upon both haste and blood on the linens?
Obviously, he feared that Melissande would learn the truth and demand an annulment.
Tulley had a plan and meant to see it brought to fruition before either she or this warrior could choose otherwise.
Once their match was consummated, they would be compelled to remain wed.
Until death did so part them.
It said much for her frustration that she wondered how soon that moment might arrive.
“This is your fault!” she said, turning her frustration upon Jerome’s son. “Could you not have remained abroad? Or lingered in some city to delay your return?”
“Me?” he echoed. “What man would not make haste to claim his inheritance?” He lifted a brow.
“And truly, it has taken a year to ride from Palestine. I could not be expected to linger more than that, lest Tulley change his mind.” He pushed a hand through his hair.
“I already feared I might come too late.”
It seemed he did know Tulley sufficiently well to recognize that their liege lord could be changeable. “Aye, why not hasten home, when you gain Annossy in the bargain?”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed her. “I came for Sayerne.”
“And you are welcome to it.”
“It is a fine holding.”
“It is a ruin.” Melissande folded her arms across her chest, feeling that the chamber was too small with this large and masculine man beside her.
She was aware of his attention and his mood, and even of the heat of his skin.
“Sayerne is neglected beyond hope of repair and you are a fool to even imagine it can be rebuilt in a lifetime.”
He smiled, ever so slightly, and the sight made her heart skip. The expression softened his features and weakened her resistance with dangerous ease. “Perhaps I am a fool when it comes to matters of holdings and administration. Perhaps I have need of your counsel.”
“No woman finds it alluring to be considered useful.”
Quinn’s smile broadened and her heart skipped again. “That is a harsh summary, my lady. Do you not think a man and wife should confer together to decide what is best for their holdings?”
How could Jerome’s son know about a good marriage and how it might work?
“I do not think that the affluence of Annossy should be used to pay for the rebuilding of Sayerne.” There, she had said it aloud.
His expression turned thoughtful and she wondered if she had given him an idea. “When we are joined in marriage, the holdings will become one.”
Melissande closed her eyes at that prospect.
“And be administered as one,” he continued.
“Just as your father desired.”
“Perhaps. Of greater import is Tulley’s desire in this matter.”
Tulley. Melissande gritted her teeth in vexation.
Quinn took a step closer and lifted her hand in his, unfurling her fingers with a stroke of his finger.
God in heaven, it was persuasive for such a powerful man to touch her so gently.
“My lady, I think we have little choice but to cede to Tulley in this, and endeavor to make the best of a match neither of us anticipated.” His tone was yet more persuasive.
“Or desired,” she added.
“But it must be so. And perhaps there is advantage to be found in our union.” His words were compelling and his voice low.
Melissande had a difficult time catching her breath.
Quinn de Sayerne had a charm about him, to be certain.
Having that amber gaze fixed upon her disturbed her more than she would have liked to admit, never mind having her fingers caught in the warmth of his hand.
Her gaze lifted to the firm outline of his lips, but she glanced away before he could make more of her reaction than was justified.
Quinn de Sayerne had accepted her hand only to obtain his inheritance.
He needed Annossy’s wealth to restore Sayerne.
And what would be left of Annossy when he was done? Both she and her parents before her had labored too hard to lose everything at Tulley’s whim.
She tugged her hand from Quinn’s grasp. To her surprise, he released her fingers without a fight.
Melissande shuddered to think that Jerome had triumphed after all.
“Surely you cannot find my presence so loathsome as that?” Quinn asked. “We scarce know each other.”
“But I know your goal. How do you imagine that you will make Sayerne prosper again?” she asked.
“The estate has been mismanaged for as long as I can recall. Where will you find the coin to do it? Do you have any notion of the cost? You would be better off to pledge your blade elsewhere and move on. You do not even have a villein to call your own.”
Color rose on Quinn’s neck. Melissande wondered whether she had pushed him too far, although she had done no more than state the truth. What was this man like when he was furious? She had a strange desire to know, to see his composure shattered, to know the truth of him in a temper.
She wished she could see his worst before they wed. That was the truth of it. Then she would know better what to expect.
“Undoubtedly because they have all moved to the richer abodes,” he replied more harshly than he had thus far. His gaze bored into hers and Melissande took a step backward in trepidation. “Might I guess that some of them have moved no farther than Annossy?”
Melissande flushed. “I did not steal them, nor did I tempt them away. A villein of good sense will seek out a place where he might see his belly filled and his family sheltered. Your father ensured that most on his lands spent their nights in hunger.”
“Is it not an offense to harbor the villeins of another estate?”
He knew the law, against her expectation, and Melissande realized she would be a fool to underestimate him. “It is, but I merely showed charity to those in need of it.”
“Charity?” Quinn echoed and she felt her flush deepen.
“They were being abused. How could I turn them away?”
“And so your compassion was shown and appreciated. And now that they are no longer in peril, I will expect their return.”
Melissande caught her breath. “They are my villeins now.”
He arched a brow. “Will Tulley take your side in this, if I appeal to his court?”
“To what will they return? Ruined homes and empty larders, fields left fallow too long and no seed to plant? You must think beyond your own ambitions to their welfare. That is the task of a responsible baron.”
“I would ensure their welfare.”
“They would have to see it to believe as much of Jerome’s son. They are not fools, to be sure.”
Quinn folded his arms across his chest as he considered her, that slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Wretched man. She could not even think coherently when he looked at her thus.
She tingled.
“Perhaps I must ride to Annossy and make an appeal in your court, my lady. I wager you would like to see me kneel before you, as Lady of Annossy and source of justice there.”
The suggestion was surprisingly provocative and Melissande found herself at a loss for words.
Quinn took another step closer, pressing his advantage, his gaze locked with hers.
Melissande could not take a breath. She could feel his heat.
She was snared by his intent gaze and she yearned for something she could not name.
Quinn could name it. Melissande would wager upon that.
“Do you mock the notion of me as judge?” she asked. “Or do you mock the notion of a woman as administrator?” She lifted her chin. “If so, I invite you to compare the state of Sayerne and Annossy, to see who fares better at this task.”
He raised a hand to her shoulder, resting its weight there as if he would draw her into his embrace.
Melissande recognized the hunger within herself and knew that this would be war.
They would battle for supremacy and, to her dismay, Quinn already had her body upon his side.
She felt the shiver that rolled through her body, the heat that emanated from the weight of his hand upon her shoulder, and she knew that if he kissed her again, she would be lost.
She raised her hand to remove his. “We are not wed yet, sir,” she said with heat, knowing it was a feeble excuse.
He caught at her wrist and pulled her closer.
“Nay, not yet,” he whispered, his voice so low and his tone so intimate that her knees were weakened.
His gaze heated as he bent toward her and she felt a desire beyond what she had experienced before.
Melissande was stretched to her toes, her breasts tantalizingly close to his chest. His proximity fanned the flames kindled by his earlier kiss, but Melissande would have died rather than confess this truth.
How could she be surprised that a barbarian knew best how to awaken her base urges?
Quinn bent and his lips were against her hair, his breath in her ear, and Melissande was shaken by the power of his touch. She averted her face in an attempt to hide her reaction, knowing it was only a matter of time before he had all he desired of her.
And then what? She would be discarded, like one of Jerome’s women, and left to fend for herself—without Annossy.
Her heart tore at the truth of it.
“Do not imagine, my lady, that you will compel me to defy Tulley,” Quinn whispered.
There was steel in his tone and she heard the truth of his resolve.
“I will not lose Sayerne. On this night, we must make our match and we must consummate it, by Tulley’s command.
It need not be an ordeal, though you can make it so. ”