Epilogue
It was a year after their first journey to Sayerne that Melissande retired to the solar at Sayerne. She and Quinn had ridden to that holding to oversee to the ploughing and the planting. After the evening meal and much merriment, Melissande climbed to the solar with her son in her arms.
After the roof had been repaired and the rest of the hall restored, Quinn had ordered that a great bed be built at Sayerne, much like the one at Annossy.
Melissande found it nigh filling the solar, just as she had envisioned it would be.
It was hung with heavy draperies, as she had wished.
The braziers had already been lit in the solar for it was still cool at night and the new tapestry she had requested from the Low Countries was already hung on the wall.
Melissande touched it with wonder, thinking of the stories she would tell the infant in her arms. She settled then beside the fire to nurse him while she awaited Quinn, smiling at the sound of his deep voice rising from the hall below.
Could she ever have imagined she would be this content? Could she ever have imagined that it would be her joy to see Annossy and Sayerne united, and herself the beloved wife of Jerome’s son? It defied belief, yet was so, all the same.
She and Quinn had settled into a pattern of living mostly at Annossy, but holding court monthly—on the new moon—at Sayerne.
Bayard commanded the garrison at Sayerne and managed the holding for Quinn in his absence, which had ultimately cost Melissande a maid.
She had known that Berthe was smitten but Bayard had been determined to offer her a home.
He had built his abode at Sayerne with his own hands, with Berthe’s approval.
The pair had married after Melissande was delivered of her son in January, and Berthe had moved to Sayerne then.
Melissande missed Berthe’s companionship and her competence, but loved to see the younger woman so happy. Her former maid had greeted her at the gates to see little Bayard herself and make a fuss over him. Melissande did not think she imagined that Berthe’s stomach was a little rounder than before.
Niall remained in Quinn’s service, and was always prepared to take any message or errand to Tulley.
Amaury, Luc, Thierry and Lothair had left for home the previous June, along with much goodwill and many invitations to return.
They had intended to halt at Viandin en route to see Rolfe.
Melissande and Quinn had ridden to Viandin to visit Rolfe in the autumn, and it had filled Melissande’s heart with joy to see Quinn meet the younger sister he had never known.
Annelise had been told foul lies about Quinn by Jerome but their reconciliation had been most potent.
And their infant son had been most handsome.
Tulley had developed a fierce cough during the winter and there had been concern for his welfare.
To Melissande’s surprise, it had been the wife of Annossy’s miller who named a concoction that had proven to be of aid, for she had learned of it from Lothair.
Tulley had taken the miller’s grandson under his care and had vowed to see the boy trained for knighthood as compensation for their aid.
Melissande settled her son into his cradle, then went to the window that overlooked the keep.
She could see the spring onions coming up in the kitchen garden to her right, but there was a new garden dug before her.
The soil had been turned, but she was uncertain what would be planted in this space, which was outside the walls of the kitchen garden.
No doubt Quinn had a plan. The rich smell of the earth rose to her nostrils.
She leaned out the window and watched the stars appear one by one as the sky deepened from indigo to black.
The warm spring wind stirred her hair and the silver crescent of the moon rode high in the sky.
Melissande was more content than she had guessed it was possible to be.
All because of Quinn.
She heard his footfalls and turned to watch his approach. He granted her a smile that heated her to her toes, then she noticed the small package he carried. “I have no need of a gift,” she said, her tone teasing and he smiled.
“Nor I, but this is for both of us.”
Melissande tipped back her head to hold his gaze and was lost in the warm amber glow of his eyes. By the saints above, she loved this man with every fiber of her being.
Then Quinn offered her the box.
“It is from the East,” he said as she accepted its slight weight. “And the only thing I brought back from there besides my own hide.”
Melissande held the box toward the moonlight, seeing that there was detail on the surface.
The moonlight picked out the inlay on its lid and she ran one fingertip across the wood in appreciation of the fine craftsmanship.
A vine of flowers was made of ivory on the lid, the leaves delicately traced and petals lovingly drawn.
Melissande looked questioningly to Quinn.
He cleared his throat, though still his voice was gruff when he spoke. “It was given to me by Marcus, the keeper of the tavern we frequented, when he learned that we intended to leave the Holy Land. He gave a gift to each of us, all different, all mysterious in their own way.”
“Mysterious,” Melissande echoed with a smile.
“I heard the news of Sayerne and Marcus knew of that.”
“It is a lovely piece of work to grace your home.”
“Perhaps it is that. I think it is more. He said ‘When you have found the residence where you mean to remain forever, then open it and have your home blessed forevermore.’ I have debated the merit of both Annossy and Sayerne, but the truth is that my home is with you.”
She eyed him in uncertainty.
“So you must open it,” he urged.
Melissande gave the box a shake and something rustled within it. Quinn merely lifted a brow at her glance. Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box.
“Seeds!” she said with delight. The wind stirred the contents then and she understood the keeper’s instructions. She also understood why the soil had been turned below the window. “You knew!” she accused and Quinn smiled.
“I peeked, but only a week ago,” he confessed.
Melissande turned and leaned out the window, letting the wind catch and sweep the pearly seeds from their sanctuary. She watched the seeds swirl in the air, then scatter onto the freshly turned soil. “What are they?” she asked.
Quinn shrugged. “We shall see soon enough.”
“Whatever shall we do while we wait,” she mused, smiling as Quinn’s arms slipped around her waist. She leaned back against him, entwining her fingers with his. “I have an idea.”
“Do you, my lady?” he murmured in her ear, the sound still giving her shivers.
“I think our second son should be conceived at Sayerne,” she said, turning to look up at him in time to see his eyes light.
He scooped Melissande up in his arms and kissed her before he carried her to bed. It was the first night that they loved in the great bed in the solar of Sayerne.
Melissande knew it would not be the last, and that made her glad indeed.
Ready for more? The Rogues & Angels series continues with One Knight’s Desire, which is Heloise and Lothair’s story.
When the grim Lord de Tulley bequests his legacy to his niece and decides to arrange her marriage, the maiden in question knows that no man of sense will decline such a rich prize of a bride.
Her jest, undertaken to ensure her survival and ease an old man’s loneliness, has become deadly serious.
To Heloise’s dismay, Tulley chooses Lothair the Viking as his successor.
Lothair is unlike the other knights in his company—just as powerful and decisive as his fellows, quiet Lothair is also perceptive.
His very presence makes Heloise’s heart flutter and not just because she fears he will uncover her deepest secret.
A man of honor like Lothair can only reveal the truth to Tulley and Heloise dreads the result.
Can she charm her taciturn betrothed for the greater good?
A warrior and a healer, Lothair is accustomed to being caught between objectives.
Still, experience has not prepared him for the temptation of Lady Heloise, the beautiful niece of his overlord.
The maiden’s very presence steals his wits and renders him mute, while her barest glance fills his heart with wild yearning.
When Lothair discovers that Heloise is not the maiden she pretends to be, he is once again snared—between honor and duty, his dawning love for his new wife, and the lady’s determination to keep her secret.