The Highlander's French Bride Page 23

  Melisende raised her hands to embrace her sister. “Lucienne, stop! You can live with us.”

  Lucienne waved her away. “Non.”

  Melisende’s arms fell to her sides. “Why would you go back to such a life?”

  “To the parties,” Lucienne answered, “and the gowns of fabrics so fantastic they make you cry from the sheer pleasure of them. Laces so delicate they can scarcely withstand the needle. Embroidery so fine it takes four seamstresses a week just to produce one sleeve.” Her eyes closed and rapture lit her face. “The men so courteous, so eager to woo me. Dancing, stealing kisses behind the fountain. They tell me how beautiful I am, how much they desire me.” She opened her eyes, settling her gaze on Melisende’s shocked face.

  “Once Raul began annulment proceedings, their interest increased a hundredfold. I will have no lack of sponsors once I return.”

  “That is a shameful way to live, and you know it, Lucienne.” Tears burned in Melisende’s eyes. “How can you do this to yourself?” She swept a hand toward the bed. “To her?”

  The scorn returned to Lucienne’s face, casting ugly shadows beneath her high cheeks. “You think you know what is right for me. That I should be exactly like you, drowning behind your polite façade. You believe everything is perfect in your little world with your adorable new husband who loves you?” Her eyes narrowed as she slid her gaze to Arielle. “Have you not wondered why she looks like him?”

  Melisende immediately looked at the child asleep on the bed. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow like a shadow in the dimly lit room. She glanced back at her sister. “Why do you say that? I think she looks just like you.”

  “She has my nose and eyes, oui. But her dark hair comes from her father.”

  “Raul.”

  “Non. From your oh-so-sweet husband.”

  Melisende’s gaze bounced from Lucienne back to the child. Lucienne’s parting words so many years ago loosed themselves from the depths of her mind. What do you think went on whilst he slept in our house—only me and him? He would be unable to look you in the eye if you knew everything that happened.

  She shook her head. Non! It is impossible to think of it! He has already assured me there was nothing between himself and Lucienne. But her heart grew cold in her breast.

  Lucienne strolled to the bed and stroked her daughter’s hair. “She looks so much like me. But she has Kinnon’s hair.” Her smile set an arrow in Melisende’s heart.

  Brushing aside her doubts, Melisende stepped forward. “Do not be absurd, Lucienne. Her hair is much like mine, and Raul’s is dark as well.”

  Lucienne tossed her head. “You do not seem to recall Arielle was born early—or so I told Raul.”

  “Lucienne, did you have relations with someone whilst we lived in Randon?” Melisende demanded. “Did you marry Raul knowing you were already enceinte?”

  Lucienne sent her a mocking look. “You would love to believe that, wouldn’t you? To keep your lover innocent of the deed.”

  “I do not believe you,” Melisende replied firmly, against the reservations that gnawed at her.

  Lucienne’s eyebrows raised, a lofty smile taunting Melisende. “Yet you see the resemblance, non? No matter what you tell yourself, you will always know there is the possibility. We spent an entire week together, unchaperoned. You know how insatiable he is, n’ai-je pas raison?” Her eyes glittered. “No matter what you try to believe, you will always wonder if he shared his body with me first.”

  Melisende fled the room, Lucienne’s mocking laughter at her heels. She burst through the back door of the shop into the small courtyard used for deliveries and discreet transactions. Rory glanced up from cleaning his saddle, surprise on his face.

  “Might I help ye, madame?” he asked.

  Melisende waved a hand in the air, battling back the words and emotions that threatened to choke her. “I am fine,” she lied, her throat tight with unshed tears. “My sister—I needed some air.”

  Rory nodded as though he understood. “Yer husband is inside with yer uncle,” he offered.

  Melisende nodded, gulping great gasps of air as she battled back the scream building inside. She leaned against the door frame behind her, gripping the wooden post as though a great wind threatened to sweep her away.

  I can NOT doubt Kinnon. Lucienne is not the sweet child I knew and loved. She has become hateful and manipulative. Would she brazenly lie about this? Again, Lucienne’s words from long ago surfaced. What do you think went on—Non! She pushed the heels of her hands against her temples, forcing the sound of Lucienne’s voice from her head. I will not believe what she said. I believe Kinnon’s words above hers. She stared overhead as stars pricked the darkening sky. But can I forget it?

  * * *

  Kinnon glanced up from his seat at the table as Melisende entered the small room that served as both kitchen and living area. Her face was white, two spots of color high on her cheeks. She gave him a haunted smile that barely lifted the corners of her mouth. Alarmed, Kinnon rose to his feet.

  “Is aught amiss?” he asked, reaching for her hand. She flinched and caught her skirt in one hand, avoiding his gesture. On purpose? His eyes narrowed. What had her sister been up to? Melisende pulled a chair from the table and Kinnon stepped behind her to settle it beneath her. He reclaimed his seat and scooted it close. She gave his arm a quick pat and turned to her uncle.

  “Can your head bear a bit of conversation, Oncle, or should we wait until morning?” she asked with a nod to the nearly empty jug of wine at his elbow.

  He gave the flask a bleary look then slid his gaze to Melisende. “It depends on the conversation.”

  “Yer uncle has been telling me about the town,” Kinnon interjected.

  She gave him a startled look. “You have talked about Le Puy?”

  “About the soldiers and their interest in ye.”

  Her nostrils flared briefly. She had apparently forgotten them. “Do they still seek me?” she asked, nudging her uncle’s arm from across the table.

  He shook his head. “I have not heard from them in the past several days. I do not know if they still watch the shop or not.”

  “For nearly a sennight they camped on his doorstep,” Kinnon told her.

  “Stood inside my shop, they did!” Ramon slurred, reaching for the jug. Melisende snared his wrist, denying him the wine.

  “I am sorry, Oncle. Kinnon and I will leave in the morning.”

  “We are in no danger, Melisende,” Kinnon soothed. “My men will alert us if there is trouble.”

  “They will continue to harass my oncle even after we are gone,” Melisende pointed out. “Please let us be gone quickly.”

  A sharpness he’d not heard before edged her voice. “Are ye well?” he asked again. She flashed him a quick smile, possibly to reassure him, but it fell flat and he found it disconcerting. He hesitated, not willing to confront her in front of her uncle about something she clearly did not wish to discuss. It would wait until they were alone.

  “Rory has enough food for all of us for dinner—those of us who dinnae wish to drink their meal,” he added with a glare for Ramon. The goldsmith grunted and slouched in his chair like a chastened child. “Where are yer sister and her wee lass?”

  “Arielle is abed, and I do not know where my sister is.” Her words rang as lofty as those of a priest denying absolution.

  It was clear there was a rift between the two again. Kinnon sighed. He’d hoped they could smooth things over between them before leaving for Scotland.

  “Then eat a wee bite, mo chridhe. It has been a long day.”

  Melisende rose to her feet. “Pardon, but I am too tired. I beg your indulgence and an early evening.” Giving him a nod, she slipped out the door.

  Jean-Baptiste lifted his head, a whine in his throat.

  Hell in a basket! She willnae get off so easily. If she is angry with me, she will give me something to either refute or ask forgiveness for.

  Ignoring the snores issuing f
rom Ramon’s slack lips as he slipped the leash of consciousness, Kinnon stood and stomped across the floor. He looked through the doorway, but did not see Melisende. Steeling himself, he bounded up the stairs. Half-way up, the stairway turned sharply to the right, and he came face to face with Lucienne.

  Hell’s bells a’jinglin’. He flattened himself against the wall to allow her to pass, but the space was narrow and Lucienne halted a step above his. She allowed her gaze to slide leisurely up and down his body, lingering speculatively just below his belt. The tip of her tongue poked between her lips. His cock jerked to attention.

  Damn! “I am headed upstairs to join my wife,” he said, his voice rough and low.

  “That would explain the bulge beneath your leine, n’est-ce pas?” She jerked her eyes back to his, a mocking smile threading her lips. “How is your leg?”

  “I am grateful for yer healing. I am sorry for your troubles. How can yer sister and I help ye?”

  Lucienne slouched against the wall, lowering the line of her breasts on level with Kinnon’s eyes. “I am sure we could come to some arrangement.” Her eyes danced, sparkling in the dim light.

  He could smell the arousal on her, dark, cloying, mysterious. The young, inquisitive siren had matured into a soulless seductress, and his stomach churned, shutting down his cock’s interest. “Ye should have better care for yerself, Lucienne. Ye sell yerself too cheaply.”

  She sighed. “Without a noble lineage, I think I have done as well as I could. I have accesso to most case nobili in Italy. I serve a very useful purpose.”

  “What of being a mother? Of caring for yer wee lass upstairs?”

  Lucienne looked down her nose at him. “And lock myself away for the next ten to fifteen years? Without a husband, we would be destitute, and Arielle would have no future—unless she captured the eye of some jaded nobiluomo who wished her for himself.”

  Kinnon clenched his teeth, trying to rein in his temper at her casual words. “Then she is better off without ye for a mother.”

  “Exactly. But you do not have to go to your wife so soon.” She lifted her hand to the plaide across Kinnon’s chest, long delicate fingers playing with the folds. “We could finish what we started so long ago, and you could tell me if I am a good learner or not.”

  Kinnon grasped her wrist, halting her play. “This stops here. We had nothing more than friendship between us then, and I am sorry to say that is now finished. Get some sleep. We will discuss Arielle in the morning—with Melisende present.”

  Disappointment twisted her mouth. “I rather enjoyed our encounter on the stairs. A man such as yourself shouldn’t waste himself on a simple woman such as my sister. I have far more to offer, I assure you. I yearn to show you the many ways I could love you. But my proposition is for tonight only.”

  “I can live with that,” Kinnon responded dryly. “The answer is no.”

  “Then I bid you buona notte.” She stepped lightly to the landing and slipped past him with excruciating slowness. Her breasts pressed firmly against him and her hand dipped low to cup his manhood as she passed. Eyebrows raised in silent invitation, she gave him a firm squeeze before she finally descended the stairs. Kinnon took a deep breath and counted to ten before he continued to his wife’s room.

  There was no fire in the grate, and Melisende lay with her back to the doorway beneath a mound of blankets. Kinnon quickly unlaced his leggings and slipped out of his leine. He slid into bed next to Melisende, spooning against her back. He ran his hand lightly from her shoulder to her hip, the soft fabric of her undergown catching on his callused palm. She shifted, but did not pull away.

  “I would be happy to keep ye warm if ye’d care to slip out of yer gown. I’ve grown fond of feeling yer skin against mine.”

  After a brief hesitation he may have imagined, Melisende rolled to her back and pulled her gown over her head. Kinnon tossed it to the floor and drew his wife to his chest. “Can ye tell me what is wrong, mo chridhe?” he asked gently.

  Melisende’s soft sigh barely reached his ears. “’Tis an old argument between myself and Lucienne. She quite vexes me.”

  “I can understand that. Are ye vexed with me?”

  “I am angry with my sister and confused by the woman she has become and the things she says. I am not angry with you.”

  “Good. It seemed ye were, and I would rather answer for my sins—real or imagined—than see ye upset.”

  “Could we talk about this tomorrow?” she asked. “I am overwhelmed enough for today.”

  “Aye, then. Corrie doon, mo chridhe. Snuggle close and sleep. I will keep ye safe.”

  Melisende nestled against his side, and Kinnon stayed awake long into the night wondering just what Lucienne had said.

  Chapter 30

  Melisende jerked awake, startled to find a pair of large smoky gray eyes staring at her over the edge of the bed. Kinnon’s spot beside her was empty, and she pulled herself onto one elbow, clutching the bedsheet to her neck.

  “Bonjour, Arielle. How are you this morning?”

  The child looked down at her feet before meeting Melisende’s gaze again. “I cannot find mia madre.”

  “Do not worry, ma petite. We will find her,” Melisende reassured her.

  Arielle shook her head. “She did not come to sleep last night.” Her eyes rounded with concern. “Do you know where she is?”

  Mère Marie! What has my sister done? “If you would give me a moment to dress, I will help you.” Melisende motioned to the door. “Only to the door—no further,” she added.

  With an obedient nod, Arielle stepped through the open door and closed it behind her, leaving Melisende to wonder what she was used to seeing in her mother’s bedroom. She leapt to her feet and snatched up her discarded shift, shivering as the fabric, cold from its night on the floor, made contact with her warm skin. She grabbed her travel gown from its peg and yanked it over her head, twisting to settle it about her. Opening the door, she ushered her niece back into the room.

  “Give me a moment more,” she told her as she washed her face and did up the laces on her dress. She hurriedly rebraided her hair, smoothing it with a comb from her satchel. Stepping into her slippers, she gave Arielle a bright smile. “Voilà, j’ai terminé! Let us find your maman.”

  The child’s hesitant nod melted Melisende’s heart, and she gently took the little girl by the hand. Leading her down the stairs, she discovered Kinnon entering the back door.

  “Good morning, mo chridhe,” he said, giving her a kiss. He dropped to his haunches. “And who do we have here? A faerie princess?”

  Arielle gave him a shy grin and buried her face in Melisende’s skirts.

  “She says she cannot find sa mère. I am certain she is here.” She cast a look around the small room that was empty except for the three of them. “Or mayhap she has gone to market.” She looked at Kinnon. “Have you seen Lucienne?”

  “I have been seeing to the horses. She was not at the stable.”

  “Kinnon, you and I must talk. I am not comfortable staying here much longer, and we need to discuss our plans.”

  He stood to his feet and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Aye. Feed the lass and we can talk.”

  Melisende quickly gathered some bread and cheese and a glass of watered ale and sat Arielle at the table. “I will need a milk-goat,” she murmured.

  “Pardon?” Kinnon asked. “What about a goat?”

  Melisende motioned him to the far side of the room. “Lucienne wants me to raise the child,” she said with a quick look to Arielle.

  Kinnon grunted. “I cannae say that is a bad decision on her part, but do ye wish to?”

  “Oh, Kinnon, you do not know what would happen to her if she returned to Italy with my sister! Lucienne is not in her room, and I fear she has already left.”

  “Leaving the lass with ye?”

  Melisende dropped her gaze. “I know we have only just wed, and neither of us anticipated bringing a three-year-old into the marriage. But
I cannot turn her away.” She begged him silently to understand. “Please, Kinnon. She will be no trouble.”

  He rubbed his fingers over the stubble on his chin. “No trouble? How could such a sweet lass be trouble?”

  * * *

  A thorough search of Lucienne’s room confirmed she was no longer there, leaving her daughter behind. Such a sad legacy for your child, Lucienne. I will do my best to raise her, to see that she is loved and cared for. She glanced at Arielle, busily placing her few belongings into a small bag donated by Oncle Ramon. And happy.

  She brushed aside the doubts plaguing her. What makes you think you can raise her to be a better person than Lucienne? Spending the time necessary to make her feel welcome will take away much time from your new husband. Will Lucienne succeed in driving a wedge between you and Kinnon?

  I have already denied him the chance to defend himself against Lucienne’s charges—again. And denied him the true words in my heart, as well as my affections. Her cheeks burned. I must make amends.

  She helped Arielle finish packing and led her to the courtyard. The sun was bright overhead, and the men stood in the yard and beyond, checking their saddles and bags as they readied for the next part of the journey. Kinnon stepped forward, leading a shaggy pony.

  “Rory found this wee beastie for ye, Arielle. Do ye know how to ride?”

  The child nodded solemnly, her eyes wide. “It is mine?” she breathed.

  “Only until we get to our ship.” Kinnon chucked her under her chin. “Once we are in Scotland, we will get ye yer very own pony, and ye can help pick it out.” He held out his hands to her and she reached up, allowing him to place her in the saddle.