Chapter Twelve #3
Bose struggled to erase the terrifying visions.
Gazing into Summer’s inquisitive golden eyes, he decided that her life was worth far more than that of a potential heir.
Above all else, Summer would live a long and prosperous existence by his side and although they would be without a son to carry on the de Moray name, he would still retain the one individual without whose love he could not endure.
Above all else, he could not lose his wife.
“You are lost to me, darling,” Summer’s voice was soothing, sweet. “You have c-chosen another name for our son?”
“Nay, love,” he shook his head, forcing aside disturbing visions of pregnancy and birth. “No… no other name.”
She smiled, willing to believe that even if he had selected another name, he would bow to her wishes nonetheless. “Of course, you and Lora had c-chosen a name for your child. What was it?”
He suddenly pushed himself from the bed, running his fingers through his black hair in an agitated gesture.
Smile fading, Summer sat up from the mattress and covered her breasts with her unfastened bodice.
Realizing she had upset him with her reference to his dead wife, she hastened to ease his anger.
“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I did not mean to make light of Lora’s death. P-please forgive me.”
He immediately held out a quieting, apologetic hand, turning to face her. The dim light cast from the crackling hearth gave her a glowing, ethereal appearance and his heart leapt wildly at the sight of her, more pain and anguish and bewilderment filling his mind than he had ever conceived possible.
“You did nothing of the kind, love,” his voice was tight with emotion. Again, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I… I suppose the excitement of our relationship has finally caught up to me, too.”
If she suspected his lie, she did not express her reservation.
Instead, a timid smile creased her lips and she replaced her bodice, rising from the bed so that Bose could re-secure the stays.
Obediently, silently, he helped her dress and took her in his arms when she was properly clad.
Smelling her fragrance, feeling her warmth, helped clear his head tremendously.
“I suppose I should leave you to retire,” he said hoarsely, his face buried in her hair. “You have had a most trying day.”
Head against his shoulder, Summer inhaled deeply the fragrance of his distinct musk, finding it exceedingly masculine and comforting.
“As you have also,” removing her face from his flesh, her fingers gingerly traced the stitches in his scalp. “Let there be no more w-wounds come the morrow’s joust. I have had my fill.”
He smiled, his black eyes twinkling. “Aye, my lady. I shall endeavor to do my best.”
“See that you do.” When his great head dipped low, capturing her lips tenderly within his own, she melted against his searing touch and a soft moan escaped her mouth.
“Good Lord, Bose, I can h-hardly stand the thought of not seeing you ’til morn.
And what will happen when the tourney is over? When will I see…?”
A heavy rap shook the chamber door, vibrating the wall with the force of the blow. Summer gasped with surprise while Bose, consummately undisturbed, made sure his dagger was within easy reach before moving to the bolted panel.
“Who comes?” he demanded.
There was a slight pause before a strained, decidedly familiar voice wafted from the other side. “Open the door, de Moray. Immediately.”
Bose passed a glance to Summer, not surprised to note her uncertainty and, he thought, chagrin. “It’s Stephan!” she hissed.
Prepared for a harsh tongue-lashing, Bose unbolted the door and opened it. Not only was Stephan at the door, but Ian and Lance were hovering in the corridor as well and Bose stepped aside, ushering them into the chamber.
Stephan’s expression was grim as he eyed the massively dark knight.
He paused a moment before speaking. “I am sure you will understand my position when I say that I am uncomfortable with this situation. Betrothed or not, my sister is not yet your wife and I will not have her reputation sullied by the actions of an aggressive suitor,” before Bose could reply, Stephan looked to his flush-faced sister.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself? You know better than to allow a man into your bedchamber, Summer.”
Swallowing hard, Summer wrung her hands in unconscious apprehension. “I-I… t-that is, we’ve done n-n-nothing but speak, S-Stephan. S-S-Sir Bose has been a perfect g-gentleman.”
Bose sighed sadly, noting the strong return of her stammer where for the past several minutes the habit had been virtually forgotten.
“I was just leaving, Stephan,” Bose said quietly, eyeing Lance and Ian.
Ian seemed remarkably composed whereas a drunken Lance was torn between concentrating on his scowl and making certain he remained upright long enough to ensure his sister’s reputation.
“I simply escorted my lady to her chamber and was preparing to bid her a good sleep.”
Truthfully, Stephan did not seem overly furious that his sister had been found in a compromising position with her future husband.
If anything, he seemed to be enforcing the strict code of chivalry and morality simply because, true to his words, his sister was technically still an unwed maiden.
Since the moment Summer and Bose were seen entering the keep in one another arm’s, the rumors had been flying fast and furious and Stephan, newly returned from his rendezvous with his wife, had collected his brothers and moved to correct the potentially damaging situation.
“So you have managed to solicit a betrothal contract out of my father,” Stephan’s voice was quiet. Approving, even. “Ian told me of his reluctance in granting your request. Rest assured that I shall speak with him come the morn, when his alcohol has evaporated and his mind is sane once more.”
Bose bowed his head slightly. “Your assistance would be tremendously appreciated, Stephan.”
Stephan simply nodded, returning his focus to his sister. He softened. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ll make a fine wife.”
She smiled timidly. “T-Thank you for your support, S-Stephan,” she said softly. “However, there seems to be a problem already; B-Bose does not like the name Kermit.”
The statement brought a laugh from Ian and a belated chuckle from Lance, once he realized through his drunken haze what had been said. Stephan smiled broadly, casting Bose a long gaze.
“Poor man. I have a feeling he will agree to your demands regardless of his personal opinion,” when Bose shrugged weakly, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, Stephan’s own smile faded as the reality of the situation once again came to bear; certainly, he had no intention of leaving the couple as he had found them.
For appearance sake, it was best that Bose retreat for the evening.
“As you can see, my lord, my sister has safely reached her bedchamber and is eager to retire. I thank you for your escort, but your presence is no longer required.”
Realizing that he was being dismissed, Bose again nodded faintly and looked to Summer, her golden gaze warm and tender. Reluctant to leave her but knowing it was best, he moved quietly for the door. In the archway, however, he paused, once again meeting Stephan’s brilliant green orbs.
The silent words of approval and understanding were unmistakable.
Stephan had as much as voiced his approval and Ian had all but forced Edward to accept Bose’s marriage request. Slowly but surely, the du Bonne brothers were accepting him for their sister.
Four years of rumors and vicious lies notwithstanding, Bose was pleased to realize that the truth had finally triumphed.
“Good eve to you, Stephan,” he said steadily.
“Lance, I would suggest you retire immediately lest you provide Tate with a supreme opportunity for victory come the morrow. And Ian…,” when the largest du Bonne brother met his gaze, something of a faint smile playing upon his lips, Bose smiled in return.
“I will see you on the morrow as well. The second round, I believe.”
“I shall be ready, my lord,” Ian replied as if he held no fear of the man and his talents.
Bose held his gaze a moment, a knowing smirk on his lips, when Summer suddenly moved into his line of sight. Putting her arm about Ian’s waist, she looked to Bose with an imploring expression.
“Mayhap you should consider allowing Ian to emerge triumphant on the morrow, Bose,” she said seriously, nary a stammer to her speech. “After all, had it not been for my brother, you and I would not be betrothed.”
A perfectly executed sentence. As the trio of brothers looked to their baby sister in astonishment, Bose merely smiled.
“Indeed, my lady, I completely agree with the latter portion of your statement. As for the first,” he tore his gaze away from her long enough to look at Ian.
“I shall have to think of another way to thank your brother for his support, considering I promised you I would win the joust.”
Summer returned his smile. “As you say, my lord.”
Before Bose could reply, Lance staggered before his sister, weaving dangerously. “Summer!” he gasped. “You… you did not stutter at all!”
She looked to him as if his notation hardly warranted consideration. “Indeed, Lance. What did you think Bose and I were d-doing in my chamber, hidden away from the world? He was helping me with my speech. I’ll become better, with practice.”
Stephan, his mouth open with incredulity, moved to stand beside his drunk, equally amazed brother. “He was helping you?” he repeated, baffled and delighted and utterly awed. “I do not understand. By what magic did he do this?”
Lingering by the door, Bose endeavored to enter the conversation. “No magic, Stephan. With a good deal of patience and encouragement, anything can happen.” Winking to Summer when she met his glittering gaze, he moved to quit the chamber. “Good sleep to you, love. I’ll see you on the morrow.”