Chapter 2 #4
“Nay,” he admitted.
Bayard’s chuckle did naught to ease his mood. Quinn was grateful for the relative darkness of this place, for he felt color rising on the back of his neck.
“Dare I suggest that this is a matter of pride, Quinn?” that knight asked. “A pretty lady has spurned you, and not without cause, given your appearance upon arrival here. Are you insulted?”
“Of course not.” Quinn spoke gruffly. “But a man’s merit is not his garb.”
“What manner of lady would she have been if she had swooned before you? No woman you would welcome to wife, of that I can be certain.”
“Such a woman might be perceptive.”
“Such a woman might be undiscriminating,” Bayard replied.
“As whores are like to be.” He took the brush and scrubbed his nails.
“I would be pleased if a pretty lady, never mind one I was commanded to wed, confessed the truth to me without hesitation. Such a deed would show her merit as one who is honest, and her trust in me that she might confide her thoughts. I should have thought you would be the same.”
There was unwelcome truth in that.
“I do not think she trusts me.”
“You have only just met her, and not looking your best.” Bayard nodded. “She likely had some whimsy of wedding a man she chose, not one thrust upon her. Women put much credence in matches based upon love.”
“Do they?”
“Aye. It is the task of the husband to convince the lady to come to love him.” Bayard smiled. “I should think even you might manage that feat in time.”
“I thank you for your confidence in my talents.”
“What talents you possess, my friend, have naught to do with the seduction of reluctant maidens.” Bayard blinked. “Is she a widow?”
“I do not know,” Quinn confessed. “I do not think so.”
“Then she will be a maiden and rendering the marital debt will be a new obligation for her. Be gentle this night, Quinn, and that may gain you much.”
“Do you think as much?”
“Many women fear the first time, because of the pain.”
Quinn recalled that tear. If Melissande thought little of his father, she might know of Jerome’s violence. Had she not recoiled as if in fear that he might strike her? Aye, if she knew his father, she might well dread this night.
He might not have Bayard’s skill in such matters of intimacy, but he could see to her pleasure.
“And still you scowl, as I would not if I anticipated the seduction of a beauteous woman after making her my wife.”
“I had no thought of taking wife at this time,” Quinn said. “The timing is inopportune. No woman—let alone this one—would enjoy living at Sayerne before all is right once more. It is not seemly to expect a woman to endure it.”
“And that is your sole objection?”
“Aye.”
“Ha.”
Quinn ignored his friend. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rim, considering how he might tempt Melissande’s pleasure. She had softened to his kiss, so perhaps his skills would be sufficient...
“Perhaps I could coax a response from your bride,” Bayard mused. “Would you like me to try?”
Quinn sat up and glared at his friend.
Bayard appeared to be oblivious to Quinn’s response. “Perhaps we could share her charms...”
Quinn knew Bayard sought to provoke him, and he felt no satisfaction at that man’s success.
“You will not touch my wife!” he said, pointing at Bayard with a dripping finger.
“If naught else, my sire showed me the results of faithlessness in marriage and I will tolerate none of it in mine!” There was silence in the bathing chamber and Quinn took a steadying breath.
“Make no mistake in this, Bayard, should you test me in this matter, it will be you who pays the price.”
With that, Quinn sank into the bathwater again, his mood as foul as when he had arrived.
Bayard splashed in the water, clearly unoffended. “It does seem that this matter concerns you greatly and I take warning. But you are certain that you have no interest in this lady for her own charms? You did say that she was fair to look upon.”
“I never said...” Quinn fell silent when he saw his friend’s grin.
The man was cursedly observant.
“Although she is fair,” Quinn admitted.
“Only fair?”
“Lovely,” Quinn said, his voice husky. “And blessed with the tongue of a viper.”
Bayard laughed aloud. “I cannot wait to meet her.”
“I make this alliance to ensure my inheritance.”
“Ah. And to see her borders defended.” Bayard rose from the bath, and a pair of squires brought him heavy linens to dry himself.
“So, it is of no relevance that in all the years we have traveled together and fought together, despite all the foes and trials we have faced, I have never seen you agitated about any detail, save this lady and her disapproval of you as her intended spouse.” He shook a finger at Quinn.
“Even when our demise at Acre seemed inevitable, you were calm, but not on this day, when you are to take a lovely heiress as your wife.” He raised his brows, inviting an explanation for a situation that did not seem to require one.
Quinn could not hold his friend’s gaze. “It is the unexpectedness of the situation.”
Bayard smiled and shook his head. “Quinn, you are the most temperate man I have ever known, and the one knight blessed with a serenity that would astound the very angels.”
Quinn did not feel serene.
“It is Sayerne at root,” he insisted. “That place is too close to my heart. It is the possibility of losing my inheritance after waiting so long that unsettles me.”
“Is it?” Bayard asked, his tone indicating that he expected no answer.
He wrapped a length of linen about his waist with a flourish.
“Then might I assume that you have no interest in what you wear to take your vows?” He picked up Quinn’s tunic, which Quinn realized was looking even more disreputable than he had realized.
Bayard held it high, then sniffed at it with disdain.
“Your travel garments will do well enough, if this wedding is only a formality to be endured. A man’s merit is not his garb, after all.
” He met Quinn’s gaze with all the innocence of a new babe.
Curse the man.
Quinn could not attend his own nuptials in such worn clothing, with his hair untended and his jaw unshaved. The lady already thought him a ruffian and Quinn wanted naught more than to prove her wrong.
“You speak aright,” he said. “The institution of marriage must be respected, if naught else, regardless of the reason for the match.”
He turned to Michel and deliberately ignored Bayard’s grin.
“Go, Michel, and see if Lord de Tulley might lend me suitable garb for this occasion.” The boy bowed and would have raced immediately to the door.
“But bring my knife first, for I am in need of a shave. Perhaps you could lay hands on some shears, as well, for my hair is in dire need of a trim.”
Michel grinned as he produced Quinn’s dagger and the shears from behind his back. “Bayard said you would be needing these. I sharpened the blades, sir.”
“I thank you, Michel.” Quinn glanced toward his companion.
Bayard waved into the air and narrowed his eyes, as though he spied something elusive in the distance. “My dame often said I should have been a seer.”
Quinn threw the soap at him and hit him square in the chest. Bayard jumped in surprise, not having seen the missile coming. Quinn laughed at his friend’s surprise, his customary mood restored, at least for the moment.
He could win Melissande, and he would—for Sayerne.