Chapter 7 #4
She heard him speak to his fellows, then the sound of his boots on the stairs.
He dismissed a squire by the sound of it, tapped on the wooden door, then entered the chamber alone.
He nodded to her, his eyes gleaming, then closed the portal to survey the chamber.
“Now this is a fine refuge,” he said, his admiration clear.
He considered the iron latch, which was formidable, and secured the door, then went to the window that looked toward Tulley.
He leaned out of it, confirming how much he could see from its vantage point, then closed the shutters over the opening.
He went to each window in turn, repeating his movement, and she thought he lingered at the one that faced Sayerne.
He completed his survey with the window that faced the gates.
When it was shuttered, he turned to nod at Melissande.
“Most clever. I assume one of your forebears built the keep?”
“My grandfather, although my family was in possession of Annossy before that. He was the one who built the tower.”
“With considerable thought toward its defense.”
“The tale was that he had fought to protect Annossy from others who wished to seize it. Tulley’s line was not yet ascendant, so the valley was filled with warring factions.”
Quinn nodded and set his sword aside. He removed his belt. “And the mill that was attacked two nights past? Where is it?”
Melissande went to the window that faced the northern slope and opened it again. Quinn came to stand beside her, and she jumped when his hand landed on the back of her waist. “There,” she said, pointing to a faint light.
“It is solitary.”
“But not previously believed to be vulnerable. It is a hard path up from the main road.”
“And escape would be hampered by both snow and forest,” he mused. “And there is no abode in the forest beyond?”
She shook her head. “I do not know of one.”
“Is there a pass through the mountains where they rise above it?”
Melissande shook her head again. “It is steep. I remember goatherds appearing once, but it was midsummer. They were pursuing the goats and had followed a narrow path as I recall.”
Quinn nodded and latched the shutters again. “Raids and battles are matters I understand, Melissande. I will see this resolved and Annossy secure.” His voice dropped low. “I accept the challenge of proving to you that both of Jerome’s sons are as different from their father as might be.”
He had been stung by her endorsement of Yves’ character, she realized that, yet the words had also encouraged him to believe that he could undermine her expectations.
When he spoke with such conviction, as if he swore an oath to her, Melissande found herself yearning to believe him.
That frightened her, for she knew so little of him, but before she could dismiss her response, he leaned toward her.
“What is it that you fear, wife of mine?” His gaze was piercing, those golden eyes seeming to see her deepest secrets.
“Why would you ask as much?”
“Because I wish to know. I cannot dismiss your uncertainty without knowing its precise root.”
Melissande could not think of a short reply, much less one that would not reveal her own vulnerability. He needed no ideas of how to compromise her in her own home. “I expect events of this night may dismiss it,” she said, then felt her cheeks burn.
Quinn nodded once and did not seem to be in haste to retire to bed.
Indeed, the man possessed patience in rare abundance.
He crossed the chamber, removing the seal of Annossy from his purse, and set it upon the largest table.
Melissande could not help but stare at it, and she guessed her desire showed, for he smiled at her. “Have you never touched it?”
“Not since my father died. Tulley claimed it then.” She took a breath. “As was his right.”
“You sound as if you remind yourself of that.”
“Perhaps I do.”
Quinn picked up the seal and offered it to her on the flat of his hand.
Melissande met his gaze in surprise, then went to his side.
She took the familiar seal and turned it in her grasp, well aware that Quinn watched her closely.
It seemed impossibly intimate to be standing beside him in this chamber, the great bed behind her, the lantern’s light flickering over both of them.
The fire crackled in the brazier and she shivered a little at the sound of the wind in the shutters.
“When was that?” he asked in that gentle tone.
“Five years ago. It will be six in the autumn.” Melissande did not look up for she felt her tears rising. “He died at the board, in the middle of his meal. One moment, he was laughing at a jest, and the next, he was dead.”
“It must have been a shock to you.”
“In more ways than one.” She handed him the seal again.
“And your mother?” he asked again.
“When I was nine summers of age. My father had ridden to war and she had administered Annossy in his stead. When he returned, she conceived again.” Melissande shook her head.
“They were overjoyed, for they had hoped for years to have a son.” She took a deep breath and nodded toward the bed.
“She died there, bringing that boy to light, my father at her side. The babe died two days later.”
“No son.”
“No son.” She looked up at him, and knew the tumult of her emotions showed. “Only me.”
Quinn shook his head. “Do not discount your measure, Melissande. The state of Annossy five years after your father’s passing, after five years of your administration, must be the surest measure of your skills.
I am easy to impress in such matters, for I do not share your expertise, but my comrade, Amaury, is awed by your administrative talents. You learned your lessons well.”
Her mouth was dry, her heart full of his praise even as she feared its import. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Will you not call me by my name?” he asked. He gestured. “Especially in this chamber?”
Melissande met his gaze again. She swallowed, then licked her lips. “Quinn,” she whispered and he smiled with pleasure.
His fingertip landed on her lips and she froze, shaken by the tumult of her heart. “I like how you say it,” he murmured, then bent to touch his lips to her cheek. “Will you say it again, my lady?” he whispered in her ear.
“Quinn,” she said with greater confidence, her voice more sure.
“I thank you,” Quinn murmured and touched his lips to her ear, sending shivers over her flesh.
She stepped back and might have turned away, but Quinn caught her hand in his and she froze again. “What do you fear, Melissande? Tell me.”
She swallowed and confessed the truth. “Only one thing. That you truly are your father’s son.”
“Is that all?”
“Is it not sufficient?” she asked, a challenge in her tone and the flash of Quinn’s eyes made her wonder if she knew all of the tale.
Or if the fullness of the truth was even worse than she feared.
“Why did you leave Sayerne?” she asked and he bowed his head. “What drove you away from your home? Why did Tulley see fit to take you beneath his care?”