The Lily and the Lion (7 page)

Playing traitor to good virtue, my sleeve slipped from my shoulder and I drew breath sharply as his fingers caressed the exposed skin, playing me as though I were a harp. One tug and my disobedient gown gave way. I thought I would faint with sheer pleasure as he kissed a trail to my breast. My eyes flickered open and I saw two men staring their fill. At my gasp of horror Édouard's head flew up, and exclaiming an oath of annoyance he discreetly turned me. ‘A little discretion, gentlemen! You can see that I am engaged.'

‘Your pardon, Sir,' said his servant, bowing from the waist. ‘An urgent dispatch has just arrived. It requires your immediate attention.'

With a jingling of spurs, his companion stepped forward and on bended knee, offered his parchment. ‘In his defence, Sire,' he announced dryly, ‘your man knocked thrice.'

At the sound of his voice, I spun, my gown now safely back in place. ‘Monsieur de Bellegarde!'

Édouard stared at me in amazement, then locked eyes with the messenger. ‘You are known to one another?'

The raven head lowered respectfully. ‘Milord, as you know, my last communiqué was delivered to the palace. Whilst there I had occasion to encounter the demoiselle.' His gaze lifted and was drawn to my necklace. Shock flickered over his face and his granite eyes clashed to mine. ‘As to knowing the lady, I can make no such claim.'

Édouard smiled and paced away to read the parchment, one finger poised at his top lip, and I had a strange feeling that more words than I'd heard had been spoken between them.

Monsieur de Bellegarde stood, his glance one of withering disgust. Incensed, I stiffened and would have returned fire but the cur deliberately turned his back.

‘Thank you, gentlemen,' said Édouard, coming towards us. ‘You were right to bring this to my attention. Rest assured I shall act upon the instant.'

He discharged them with a nod and as they left Édouard pulled me into his arms, his mouth pressed to my temple.

‘Cécile, my sweet. Forgive this untimely intrusion, I must go, but not before you assure me that you will dine with me tomorrow evening.'

My eyes fell to the letter still in his grasp. ‘It seems that you are an important man, Édouard.'

His hands captured my face and he kissed me lightly. ‘To some, maybe, but to you, Lady, let us just say that your thief will return on the morrow. His plunder was interrupted and he intends to steal so much more, including your heart. Keep the necklace.'

He departed hurriedly, and finding myself alone I poured a cup of wine and stared into the flames, my fingers gently stroking the rubies. Had this man come into my life for a purpose? My thoughts tumbled from him to the messenger with angry eyes. Or had this courier been fated to intervene? I blushed as I realised the extent of what he must have seen. Servants were trained to look away, but this man? As my cup emptied, my humiliation grew and by the time I could see the bottom of my third goblet I felt the need to justify myself. Determinedly I went in search of Odette. If Bellegarde had been bestowed a room, she would know which was his.

Standing before the door, it was too late to have second thoughts as my curt knock was promptly answered. I pushed my way unceremoniously into Monsieur de Bellegarde's chamber. His face conveyed complete astonishment as he closed the door behind me.

Heavy saddlebags were dumped next to the bed, his doublet recklessly sprawled beside it, and each boot lay in a corner as if thrown against the wall in angry derision.

‘Forgive the disorder. I was not expecting royalty.' He retrieved his cup, swallowing the contents in one gulp, and wiped his mouth with a vicious swing of his sleeve.

‘I apologise for disturbing you, Monsieur. I can see that you are extremely busy.' Arching one eyebrow, I watched, faintly amused as he re-filled his cup. With irritation he wrenched his unbuttoned sleeve up to his elbow. The ties at his neck were loosened, tiny dark curls visible beneath, and the sleek fit of his padded leather chausses brought an unexpected blush to my face.

‘Another half hour and you could have inspected my braies as well. Do I pass your scrutiny, Demoiselle?' His lip curled sardonically and he slammed his goblet down. ‘In God's name, woman, what do you want? Do you not have somewhere else to be?
Edward's
bed, mayhap? Go warm the sheets and leave me be.'

‘How dare you!'

My wine-induced courage fled beneath his demonic stare as he spun around and towered over me.

‘Oh, I dare!' His eyes fell to the jewels lacing my throat. ‘You should have told me at the palace that your whoring price was rubies. I could have brought you a fistful, and better than these.'

‘You ale-swilling dung heap! Son of a pig farmer!' My arm swung into the air with the intent of rendering punishment for his insolence, but the courier easily captured my wrist. Wincing at his savage grip, I beat at his chest and underneath his shirt I could feel his heart galloping like a wild beast. His eyes were cold and hard and, dropping my hand, he brushed away my other as if touching me disgusted him.

‘You despicable creature!' I hissed. ‘You are not fit to wipe my boots!'

To my dismay he laughed, a horrible, bitter sound. He raised his cup in salute. ‘Lady, I would sooner wipe the arse of an elephant!'

Stunned, I stumbled back a pace. ‘Do I
know
you, Sir, that you should smite me in such a contemptible manner? Have I done you some ill in a past life?'

His cup crashed down upon the chest. ‘No, thank God!' He spun to face me. ‘Those blood stones hanging off your neck speak for themselves.' He took a menacing step. ‘As far as I was aware Armagnac decided against allying with England, let alone lying with them, so why, for Christ's sake, are you bedding its royal son?'

‘What are you talking about?'

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Does Comte d'Armagnac know that his precious daughter is the latest conquest of the Prince of Wales?'

Fed up with his taunting I stamped my foot and shrieked, ‘I am not …' A thunderbolt from a clear sky could not have struck with more surprise. ‘The what?' I gasped, my palm at my throat. ‘He said his name was Édouard Stock.'

The courier snorted. ‘Were you standing with the donkeys when the good Lord blessed His creatures with intelligence? Maybe you could use a pair of ass' ears, for then you would have heard his name correctly!' His arm shot out, pointing towards the door.
‘Edward… of… Woodstock!
The darling of Crécy, the hero of Poitiers,
son
of King Edward III of England! I have no doubt Armagnac wanted royalty for his “little Princess” but I do not believe he had The
Black Prince
in mind.
Jesu
, you must be laughing up your plaguey sleeve at Jean de Berri! But what really claws at my gut is the careless regard you have for your sister, for where else would Salisbury be but at his master's side? 'Tis a wonder I did not see him suckling your other teat!'

‘You whoreson!'
Blackness swirled before my eyes and I felt myself falling.

‘
Oh, Christ
.'

I awoke to the feel of my cheeks being patted like bread dough and the cold metal of a goblet at my lips. The wine seared my throat and I sat up, coughing. I stared into eyes dark as jet. The blurred face around them shifted into focus, handsome, wholesome and angry.

‘I would have used a burned feather,' its owner quipped coldly, ‘but the only one I possess is my quill and forgive me if I prefer to keep it for a more useful purpose.'

Staring around the room, vague shapes became clearer and memory drifted back. It was the courier's room. And the courier's bed!

Scrambling upright, I hoped that Odette would be able to fold the badly crushed gown into some semblance of respectability. Would that I might do the same for my dignity. ‘I suppose I should thank you, Sir, for not letting my head hit the floor. 'Tis as plain as the nose on your face that you hold little regard for me.'

‘I see the mouth still works. But you are right. I try not to hold anything of Edward's.'

‘I am not,' I began but he wasn't listening. Drawn to the shutters by a clatter of hooves, he hissed between clenched teeth.

‘God's nails! The Prince has returned.' He spun around quickly. ‘Go! My neck is already evading one noose on account of you.'

The image of a black horse charging down an alley, the rider drawing sword and dagger to save me, rose like a ghost from its grave on All Hallows' Eve. I had forgotten the bravery that earned him a price on his head. ‘But, Monsieur, you do not understand …'

‘Here, I suspect this is what you came for. Now go quickly, for both our sakes.' A folded parchment with dirty edges and stitched on one side was thrust into my hands.

‘Please, Monsieur, at least hear me out.' Inexplicably, tears sprang to my eyes and with a heavy sigh he lowered his shield of resentment.

‘You are right, Lady d'Armagnac, I do not understand, so forgive me.' With the strength of Samson, he pulled me into his arms and his mouth swept down on mine. If I thought I had been struck by a thunderbolt once that night, then in his violent kiss I found the fury of the ensuing storm. His lips scorched mine, brutally forcing them apart, his tongue demanding. Behind the potency was a passion that left me breathless. Then like a searing flash of lightning it was over and I was pushed ignobly from the room.

My cheeks were flaming and I laid my cool palms against them, inanely staring at his door, unable to find both breath and reason for his unprovoked assault. A creak sounded in the hallway and quickly I fled to my chamber. Safe within the confines of my room I threw myself upon the bed, wantonly comparing my first two lovers' kisses, both possessive but one playful and enticing, the other forceful and desperate. It was obvious that Monsieur de Bellegarde no longer considered it necessary to remove me from this inn. My hand strayed to the rubies at my throat. But I could not remain. Edward of Woodstock was my father's enemy! How in heaven's name had I placed myself in such a precarious situation?

The answer was simple. I had not. Monsieur de Bellegarde's refusal to return me to the palace had caused this plight. Surely then, he had an obligation to fulfil. I must therefore press my case before him, and by the following evening.

With the familiarity that had grown between us, Odette sank onto the stool in my chamber the next morning, her face illuminated. I observed with a sinking heart my note still in her possession. ‘Ooh … he is so fair of face.' Eyes sprinkled with faerie dust caught mine. ‘God has given him grace but,
Sacré Cœur
, it is not right that one man should be so pleasing to the eye!'

Directing my look of disgust pointedly to her hand, Odette's feet came back to earth.

‘He was just leaving on an errand. I had to run to catch him as it was.' Her arm extended my invitation. ‘He said he would try to find a convenient moment to collect your letter before he departs.'

‘Why did you not give him this?' I held up my morning's labour, the note pleading an audience and my only chance to set my world to rights.

‘
Zut
! His black monster of a horse was snorting like a devil and stomping grain into flour. I was too scared to get closer. But I did manage to return Madame's dress. She will never know.'

My tight smile of thanks was less than Odette deserved, but she hardly noticed as she floated away on borrowed wings.