Chapter 14
Quinn felt as if he had won a great victory.
It had been bold to issue his invitation to the villeins without discussing the matter with Melissande first, but he had not thought it through.
The moment had seemed ripe and he had followed his impulse.
He was glad she had neither rebuked nor challenged him, but he knew all was not yet resolved.
The storm might come in private.
Or not at all.
One thing he admired most about his wife was that she was clever.
She knew of things he did not, and so he could not always anticipate her.
She had a keen sense of justice, though, and he liked that she was not weak or fearful.
She was a beauty, like his mother, but she did not possess his mother’s frailty and Quinn was glad of that.
He was glad to be wed to a woman who would tell him if he was wrong.
He was determined never again to fail a woman who relied upon him, as he had failed his mother.
Trusting his wife completely was another matter, though. Did Melissande still possess Gaultier’s dagger? What was between them? How could he discover that truth?
“You will be most relieved,” Quinn said to her as they crossed the hall. “Lord de Tulley confirms that your betrothed wed another before we exchanged our vows.”
Melissande frowned. “He told me as much, but I find myself skeptical.”
Quinn arched a brow. “Indeed?”
“Do you not think Tulley would say whatever was necessary to win his desire?”
“Nay, I do not.” He halted beside her and met her gaze. It was time to dismiss her concerns about her betrothal once and for all. “He is tough but honorable and not deceptive. You must accept, my lady, that your betrothed wed another. It is our future that is of import.”
She studied him warily. “And your need for a son.”
“We have need of a son,” he reminded her.
“Sayerne’s seal hangs in the balance, and I have no desire for it. You desire a son, sir.”
Her emphasis made Quinn wonder. “And what do you desire?”
She met his gaze. “My desire is of no import, as we have seen already this day.”
Ah, she was annoyed. “Your desire is of import to me.”
“Indeed?” she said mildly, a thrum of anger beneath her words.
“Indeed.” He put his hand beneath her elbow and guided her to the stairs.
“Your desire is pressing?” she asked.
“I would speak to you in private,” Quinn said. “That you might share the truth of your thoughts.”
She exhaled and shook her head, even as she accompanied him to the stairs. “You challenge my every expectation.”
“As you defy mine. Is that not a good omen for our match?”
Melissande pivoted to face him. She was two steps above him and their gazes were level. “On the contrary, I think it a sign that we are poorly matched.”
“I think otherwise. What drudgery it would be to find oneself wed to a person who offered neither surprise nor challenge. A lifetime together would feel like an eternity.”
She eyed him. “I thought you wished a compliant wife.”
“So did I,” Quinn confessed, noting how she seemed puzzled by his smile. “Until I was wedded to you, my lady.”
Melissande’s eyes lit with humor for a heartbeat, then she spun away. “You attempt to charm me, sir,” she said as she marched up the stairs.
“That cannot be. I have been informed by a most reliable source that I am utterly devoid of charm.”
She pivoted, glared at him, then continued up the stairs.
“What ails you?” she demanded as she entered the solar, spinning to face him. “Why are you so calm yet persistent on this day?”
Quinn shut the door and leaned back against it. “Because I am home, and I am glad of it. Because I am wedded and I am grateful for it.” He pointed to the floor. “Because this is where we will build our future, Melissande, and I intend to do whatever is necessary to see that done.”
“You dismiss my Captain of Arms,” she said, flinging out a hand.
“And I am to smile sweetly. You invite my villeins to abandon Annossy and I am to nod approval. You fill my hall with your comrades of war and I am to both welcome them and see them fed. You scheme with Tulley to rebuild Sayerne at his expense—”
“I thought you would be pleased by that,” Quinn interjected. “I should never have thought to negotiate with him, had I not learned so much already from you.”
Again, he was granted a hot look for that comment.
“And now you will plant your seed. What happens once you have your son?” She flung out her hands.
“What happens to me once I have fulfilled that obligation? What happens to Annossy when you cast it aside for Sayerne? How long is this match of convenience to endure?”
“You wish to wed another.”
“I wish to choose my future, not to be told how it will be!”
Quinn saw the fear flash in her eyes and guessed the truth. “You fear I will abandon you.”
“I fear that I am useful, no more and no less, and that once my purpose is fulfilled, I may no longer be so. It is not the same for women, my lord. If I am cast aside by my husband after bearing him a son, then I will be a widow of no import. You already possess Annossy. Do not take my dignity and my future, as well.” She straightened and held his gaze.
“Tell me the worst of it, my lord. Tell me your plan.”
It was infuriating that she always saw the worst possibility, and blamed him for it.
Quinn strove to control his temper. “I am not my father,” he said with force and Melissande lifted her chin.
“I have done naught to earn your distrust. I have asked for your counsel. I have heeded your advice. I have defended your family holding as if it were my own.”
“It is your own!” she cried.
“Just as you are my wife!” he roared. “That makes you Lady d’Annossy.
We are bound together, Melissande, by our own pledges.
I would have an honest and loving marriage of merit, but I cannot compel you to trust me.
Indeed, I cannot win your trust, either, no matter what I do and how I defend your interests.
It seems that you withhold it apurpose.”
“There is naught else I can withhold,” she countered with some bitterness, and he turned to face her.
“You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” she snapped, but her tone revealed the truth.
Was it possible that she held him in some affection?
Did she argue with such heat because she came to care for him?
Quinn knew that he himself was utterly smitten, but he had learned to be wary of Melissande’s quick wits.
He would not hasten to claim any victory, but would proceed with caution, and let the lady come to him.
“What will you do when you have your son?” she demanded again.
Quinn held his ground, his mood much improved by his sense of the possibilities.
“I will do what my lady wife commands. If she wishes to truly put her hand in mine and labor for a better future, then I will welcome her wisdom and her skills. But if she wishes to remain alone at Annossy, I will leave her.”
“You will take another woman to your bed,” she accused and his temper flared again.
“You cannot have the matter every which way!” Quinn roared.
“You can be my wife in truth, or you can push me aside. I will honor your wish in this, but I will not sacrifice every advantage I hold to see you secure at Annossy without me. You cannot cast me aside yet decide who comes to my bed. We are wed, Melissande, and if you desire a match of merit, you must meet me halfway.”
She folded her arms across her chest yet looked less formidable. “I did not wish to argue with you.”
Quinn was relieved that she saw the sense of his appeal. “There would be a change,” he dared to tease her and was rewarded with a fleeting smile.
“Let us begin this discussion again,” Melissande said, her tone softer. “I owe you an apology, and I was disappointed that you had departed yesterday morn, for I could not surrender it to you.”
“An apology?”
“I was too harsh. I said too much about the reputation of Annossy.” Melissande flushed and dropped her gaze.
A note of confusion claimed her voice and dismissed every bit of Quinn’s vexation.
She so seldom allowed him to glimpse her vulnerability and it affected him powerfully.
If she could have guessed that he was hers to command for the price of a single tear, he did not doubt she would have been more prepared to share her true feelings with him.
That did not mean, however, that he could make such a sweet confession.
Now, she paced, her brows drawn together in annoyance.
“I cannot fathom why you make me so angry, or why I lose my composure in your presence. It frightens me to so lose control of my own tongue. I feel uncertain of what will happen when we argue, and that troubles me.” She fell silent then, and her color rose even more as she stole a glance at him.
Quinn could not help but chuckle in his relief.
“We have this in common, my lady,” he murmured.
“I am known for my temperance yet you—” He took a breath as she watched, then shook his head.
“You, my lady, set my very blood afire.” He wagged a finger at her.
“I want to shout with fury when you challenge me. I could shake you to make you see sense.”
“Or your version of it,” she countered, softening her words with a smile.
Quinn smiled, surprised into it. “I could kiss you to silence or seduce you until you have no argument to make.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, and swallowed. “Is it not unnatural?” she whispered.
“I do not care. I think it most excellent. I like that we enflame each other, for it hints that this union is of import to both of us.” He took a step closer and she did not retreat. Nor did she look away. “For when all is said and done, it seems we oft agree.”
“Aye,” she admitted, her gaze clinging to his. “And the simple truth of it is that even though you say I irk you, you have never raised a hand against me. You never have shaken me to see sense, or seduced me to silence me.”
“And I never will.”