Chapter 6 #3
“How did you win your spurs, sir? In a game of draughts?” Berthe demanded and Bayard laughed.
“This is no jest!” Melissande snapped. “We are to be robbed, sir.”
“We are not to be robbed,” Quinn said with resolve and she had time to fear what he might do to defend them.
Then the other party urged their steeds to a gallop and charged closer.
Quinn gave his destrier his spurs and the beast surged forward, leaving the women and Bayard behind.
Melissande’s heart skipped a beat that they were to be abandoned to Bayard’s defense.
Then Bayard gave a shout of delight and raced after Quinn.
The squires hooted and galloped their palfreys toward the party as well, leaving Melissande and Berthe to stare at each other in astonishment.
“Faithless wretches,” Melissande muttered and pulled her small eating knife.
“Of what merit are knights who leave us undefended?” Berthe demanded, her outrage equal to Melissande’s own. “And this is the new Lord d’Annossy. Much changes, my lady, that much is certain, and the changes are not welcome...”
It was then that Melissande realized the men ahead were laughing.
All of them.
Quinn, Bayard, and each man in the approaching company laughed as if they celebrated a feast. Quinn leaped from his saddle, as did the man leading the approaching party.
They embraced and patted each other on the back, shook hands and embraced again.
There was no disguising the merriment of a company of friends well met: though Melissande could not have anticipated it, in hindsight, it made sense.
“Their companions aimed to meet them at Sayerne,” she guessed and Berthe nodded. They had ridden to Sayerne, found it vacant, and retraced their course.
“More of them,” the maid said wearily. She rolled her eyes and both women sighed.
The women walked their horses closer, in no rush to encounter the party of rough-looking men.
Melissande assumed that the three most heavily armed men must be knights, despite their humble garb, which meant the other five riders were squires.
She had no doubt her husband would invite them to Annossy, for truly, they could not be expected to take comfort at Sayerne.
She was reviewing inventories in Annossy’s stores when she reached her husband’s side. Quinn glanced up, his eyes alight with joy such as she had never seen before and she was struck anew by how very handsome he was.
“My lady wife,” he said, gesturing to her as he claimed her palfrey’s reins. “Melissande, I would have you meet three of our comrades. We battled together in the Holy Land and had been journeying home together.”
“Until Amaury took ill in Venice,” a fair-haired rogue said to her with a wicked smile.
“He has a feeble constitution for a knight.” He bowed low before her.
“Niall MacGillivray, at your humble service, my lady.” He had an accent that compelled Melissande to concentrate in order to understand his French, but his smile was ready.
And he knew well enough that he was handsome, to be sure.
“She is my lady, Niall, and you had best recall as much,” Quinn said and that man grinned.
Niall even had the audacity to wink at Melissande and she imagined that he found many a maid to appreciate his charms. Berthe already sat straighter in her saddle, though Bayard glowered at his companion when Niall took note of her.
The next man was dark of hair and blue of eye, a strikingly regal man with a steady gaze. “Amaury de Montvieux,” he said, also bowing low before her. “Who might have imagined that our Quinn would make such a fortunate alliance?” His French was more readily understood.
“It is not the fortune of the alliance that makes it admirable,” Quinn protested gruffly. “But the charm of my lady wife.”
Melissande found herself blushing, but the men nudged each other companionably. Quinn gestured to the third knight in the party, a very tall and blond man with a quelling gaze. “Lothair is a talented healer,” Quinn said. “He remained in Venice to ensure Amaury’s complete recovery.”
Lothair bowed but did not speak.
“As Niall certainly would not,” Amaury said.
“Not if there was any company more interesting than yours,” Niall agreed.
“And there were women aplenty in Venice,” Bayard added. “However did you choose?”
Berthe inhaled sharply at this.
“Choose? Where is it writ that a man must choose only one?” Niall protested. They laughed easily together, obviously at ease with each other’s natures.
Berthe glared at them all. “Sir Rogue, it seems your companions share your views,” she said and the men laughed.
“Sir Rogue,” Niall echoed and his brows rose. “This lady has taken your measure.”
“I have taken no measure of him,” Berthe snapped and Niall was quick to apologize.
Melissande felt the weight of Quinn’s gaze upon her and knew what she had to do. “You must have invited your companions to visit you at Sayerne,” she said quietly to him.
“Aye. We would have arrived together, had Amaury not fallen ill. I could not have known that Sayerne was a ruin, for Tulley did not tell me as such in his missive.” His lips pursed. “It seems that his brevity meant that many details were omitted.”
Melissande prayed silently that there would be enough food in Annossy’s storerooms, but smiled as if unconcerned. Hospitality could not be compromised. Her father had been adamant about that. “Have you invited them to Annossy?”
“I await your blessing, my lady,” he replied, a smile in his eyes.
“You do not need my blessing, sir,” she reminded him gently.
Quinn frowned briefly, but did not avert his gaze.
“Yet I still desire it,” he confessed in an undertone.
His hand fell to her knee and just the weight of it there made Melissande catch her breath.
She stared into his eyes and realized that she would have to welcome him abed this very night, lest his friends suspect the truth, even as she knew in her heart that she did not entirely dread it.
“My home is now yours and you know it well, sir,” she replied. Quinn studied her for a moment, then cleared his throat when she looked away.
“Friends and comrades!” he cried, interrupting their conversation. “I invite you all to Annossy.”
“Annossy?” Niall echoed. “Where is that?”
“Just ahead of us, before Sayerne. It is the ancestral holding of my lady wife. You see the pennant flying from its tower.”
“You are Lord d’Annossy as well?” Lothair demanded, his surprise more than clear. His French was spoken with a clipped accent and Melissande guessed that he hailed from the more eastern territories held by the Emperor.
“Aye, I am,” Quinn admitted.
“That holding?” Amaury asked, pointing to Annossy’s keep. Melissande nodded and he bowed again. “Quinn, you have made a wondrous alliance. We already admired the obvious prosperity and good administration of that holding.”
“Amaury admired it, to be sure,” Lothair said.
“Aye, Amaury was most fulsome in his praise of the management of the fields,” Niall said. “While I would know naught of such matters.”
“To be sure, it was impossible to see the charms of Annossy’s women from such a distance, which would be your sole concern,” Amaury said and Niall grinned.
“Though the lady herself is most beautiful.” Lothair bowed and Melissande flushed.
“Who has governed Annossy before this happy day for Quinn, my lady?” Amaury asked.
“Since my father’s death five years ago, I have administered the holding.”
Amaury nodded, his gaze flicking to Quinn in some silent communication.
His admiration of her skills was clear, and Melissande wondered at his origins.
The knights mounted their destriers again so the party could proceed and she turned to Amaury, intent upon being a good hostess.
“From whence do you come, sir? You seem to know much of managing a holding.”
“Montvieux is my family holding and my legacy,” he admitted.
“It lies to the east and south of Paris, in a valley of land most fertile. I have the greatest admiration for it, and a full understanding of my responsibilities. My father taught me from the cradle to watch each detail, to keep the books, to manage the inventories and the seed...”
“Aye, as did mine!”
“It is not common to find a lady with such expertise.”
“I have no brother. My father rode to war when I was a child, and my mother administered Annossy in his absence. She began to teach me, for I asked.”
“Did she administer the courts, as well?”
“Aye, in his absence. Annossy prospered beneath her hand, and so my father saw fit to continue my instruction upon his return.”
Amaury was clearly impressed. “Do you find your responsibilities a chore to be endured?”
Melissande laughed at the notion. “Because they keep me from my needlework? Nay, sir, I find administration a most intriguing challenge and one that gives great satisfaction.” She realized then that Quinn was attending their conversation and did not look to be pleased.
She dropped her gaze. “Of course, it is all my husband’s duty now and I shall hone my skills with embroidery. ”
Again, Amaury looked between Melissande and Quinn, but he said no more.
“Let us make haste to Annossy, then,” Quinn said. “Where doubtless we shall find warmth and a hot meal.” He gave a nod and all touched their heels to their horses’ flanks. The entire party galloped toward Annossy, the horses’ manes streaming, the sky vivid blue overhead and the wind as cold as ice.
A hot meal. Quinn might be overly confident in that expectation.
Melissande counted as she rode. Eight newly arrived men—for the boys were tall enough to have the appetites of grown men—plus the four youths and one knight who journeyed with Quinn meant there would be fourteen more men at the board this night and for the foreseeable future.
In the dead of winter, when stores were at their lowest.