“I love my family,” she said simply. “Even my siblings.”
“Who are pompous, overbearing, and far too impressed with themselves,” he mused, “save your sister, who I am sure is almost as flawless as you are.”
She smiled. “Flatterer.”
“I am scrupulously honest.”
“Save when you were pretending not to know who I was,” she said.
“I also have a finely honed instinct for self-preservation and a sense of altruism that is rarely matched in all of France,” he said with a smile.
“Which only means you feared my brother would slay you, but that doesn’t explain anything else.”
He slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers. “I didn’t want you to suffer a swoon from realizing too soon who you were. Again, very altruistic of me, wouldn’t you say?”
“I believe, Your Grace, that you are telling a falsehood.”
“Well, it isn’t as if I can admit to wanting to keep you captive in my hall a few more days, is it?” he grumbled. “And just so you know, I can understand wanting to be out of the shadows.”
“Unless you’re a woman.”
“There is that.” He shot her a glance. “You de Piaget women have strange and unwholesome ideas of independence.”
“Unlike your current queen regent who is with a fair amount of ruthlessness keeping a kingdom intact for her son.”
His mouth fell open, then he shut it and smiled. “You have me there.” He studied her for a handful of very uncomfortable moments. “Why do I have the feeling that this whole adventure was about more than simply escaping from the long shadows cast by your overbearing brothers?”
She looked around her to make certain there were no men within earshot. Miles, at least, was watching her whilst doing his best to seem as if he weren’t watching her. The rest of the lads were watching the countryside, which she appreciated. She took a deep breath, then looked at Gervase.
Green. His eyes were a pale green. They were truly a lovely color. More to the point, they were full of something that she had to believe was disbelief.
“I’m unnerved,” she admitted.
“That is, my lady, the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say. And in honor of that show of good sense, why don’t you tell me the rest of the tale?”
She took a deep breath, then stopped and turned to face him. “I was told I must come to France.”
He froze. “What?”
“A missive was delivered to me,” she said, “which said that if I didn’t come to France, my grandmother would die.” She supposed there was no need to speak of a grandfather she was sure she didn’t have. “I don’t have the note, of course, because Miles lost it,” she said. “Or, more particularly, dropped it and one of Nicky’s hounds tried to have it for supper. But Miles had read it in England.”
“A missive,” Gervase said, his voice completely without inflection. “What else did it say?”
“Not much more than that.”
He studied her. “And that is what sent you off on this ill-advised flight today?”
She hesitated, then pulled the rolled missive from her tunic. She supposed he would think what he would of it, so there was no sense in saying anything. She simply handed it to him and waited.
He took it carefully. “Where did you find this?”
“In your bed.”
His mouth had fallen open. He gaped at her a bit longer, then unrolled the missive. He gaped at it, then at her.
“You found this in my bed?”
She only nodded.
He looked at the note with distaste. “This isn’t in my hand.”
“Do you recognize it?” she asked carefully.
He shook his head. He rolled it up again and handed it back to her, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Someone, then, is either having us on, or using my hall for foul deeds.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I received something several days ago that warned me that I was most definitely still in the sights of someone who wished me ill.”
She frowned, then felt her mouth fall open at the way he was watching her so steadily. She pulled away from him and stepped back so quickly that she almost tripped over her own two feet.
“You can’t think I would be responsible.”
“The hand was very fair,” he said slowly, “but nay, I didn’t suspect you.”
“For very long,” she finished.
“Well, it would seem we are both guilty of coming to hasty conclusions.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I believe we would do well to seek out a safe place, then have speech together.”
“I’m not sure there is a safe place,” she said honestly. “The missive told me my entire family would be harmed if I didn’t come immediately to France. To Caours, if you want the entire truth.”
He looked at her in surprise. “And you came?”
“What else was I to do?” she asked defensively. “Allow her to be slain?”
“Send one of your intimidating brothers to guard your grandmother instead?” he suggested.
“The missive called for me to come.”
He drew her into his arms. She went, because there was something unwholesomely pleasant about his embrace. She put her hands on his chest, then turned her head and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He was just the right height for it to be a comfortable place to lay her head. That and his dragging his fingers through what was left of her hair was more enjoyable than she thought she might care to admit.
“I assume Lord Nicholas knows nothing of this,” he said finally.
“Of course not. He would have locked me in my bedchamber otherwise.”
“A pity Miles does not have his good sense.”
“I intimidate him.”
He laughed a little. “Aye, I imagine you do.”
“But I don’t intimidate you.”
He pulled back and gave her a look that had her cheeks beginning to burn. She couldn’t say she was overly acquainted with the ways of men and women, but she did have siblings and they did have mates. She’d seen that look before. Of course, she’d never seen it on any of the lads who had come courting her, but perhaps that was because they’d been too busy looking around her to see if her older sister was still available.
“I’m not sure that finds itself on the list of things you do to me,” he said solemnly, “which is probably a very good thing.” He exchanged a look with his captain, then put his arm around her shoulders and nodded toward the abbey. “Let’s get ourselves behind at least marginally sturdy walls, then we’ll put our heads together and see if we can’t unravel both these tangles.”
She nodded and ignored the look Miles gave her as he took the reins of Gervase’s horse along with his own. If Gervase wanted to keep her close whilst they walked, who was she to gainsay him?
At least they were safe enough for the moment with his guards and her brother fanning out around them. How much she had taken for granted, living in her father’s lovely hall on the edge of the sea, always being surrounded by men who would have gone to battle to protect her.
“Just so you know,” Gervase said casually, “that while I’m not in favor of your decision to come to France alone, I’m not opposed to the results of it, despite the blisters on your hands from your labors in my kitchens. And I understand why you did what you did. I hope you understand that from now on, I will be seeing to your problem.”
“Bossy thing, aren’t you?”
He smiled briefly. “Protective,” he corrected. “Though I’m not sure this is exactly the sort of place I would choose to be protective in.”
Isabelle had to admit that whilst the gates were not large, they did seem overly imposing for a locale supposedly unlikely to need a defense. She considered that for a moment or two, then realized Gervase was simply watching her. She looked at him and attempted a smile.
“Here we are,” she managed.
“Please leave the sword work to m
e,” he said very quietly.
“You’re robbing me of my chance to step out of the shadows,” she said lightly.
“You can investigate all you like—and I cannot believe I just heard myself say that—as long as you have a guardsman within sight. I would prefer that guardsman to be me.”
“Would you?” she asked wistfully. “Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“You’re overprotective of your brothers’ language tutors?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m protective of when your brother isn’t staring at me as if he’d like to use me as an ornament for that very sharp sword he seems to be considering drawing,” Gervase said dryly. He sobered. “Isabelle, I’m in earnest. I won’t stifle this very unsettling independence you’re displaying—” He paused, then rolled his eyes. “Very well, be as independent as you like. But please, please let me keep you safe.”
“You know, you can be very charming, when you want to be.”
“You haven’t begun to see charming,” he said grimly. “Here, in an abbey of all places.” He shot her a look. “You, Isabelle de Piaget, have me so turned about, I scarce recognize myself.”
“But you remember my name,” she said with a smile.
“Always.”
She walked with him up to the gates, listened to him talk their way inside, then continued on until they reached the abbey itself. She glanced at him as they paused to wait for his men to sort themselves.
“If you’d met me in another venue besides your kitchens, what would you have done?”
“I would have gaped at you from afar, miserable in the knowledge that I would never get closer to you than shouting distance, which would unfortunately mean that my bleating would be lost in the chorus of cries made by lads lauding your beauty and goodness.”
She looked at him in surprise, then laughed. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I’m quite serious—”
“Her hand only!” Miles bellowed.
Gervase blew his hair out of his eyes. “I’m going to kill him before the day is over.” He took her hand, merely bent over it without touching her, then straightened. His expression was very grave. “If I survive an interview with your sire, I would like to court you.”
She wondered how it was the weather in France could be so changeable. One moment she was freezing, the other she was burning up.
“Would you?” she managed.
“If the idea suits you.”
“I hadn’t even considered it,” she said frankly. “I was too busy wondering if you were the one trying to kill me.”
He tilted his head and smiled faintly. “Would you consider it now, do you think?”
“Would you teach me swordplay?”
“Absolutely not.”
She pursed her lips. “My brothers have taught their wives swordplay.”
“Your brothers are daft,” he said with a snort. He started to speak—no doubt to warm to his theme—then he looked at her and shut his mouth. He dragged his free hand through his hair. “I’ll consider it.”
“I’ve taken extensive notes over the years of my siblings’ activities.”
“I can only imagine,” he muttered. He shot Miles a warning look, then gathered her into his arms briefly. “I will,” he whispered against her ear, “consent to be led about however you will if you’ll simply agree to look at me twice.”
“You will not.”
“You might be surprised.”
“I might be convinced to look at you more than twice, then.”
He pulled back at the pointed clearing of more than one throat. “We must elude them at our earliest opportunity.”
“I’m fairly sure they have lists here.”
His mouth worked for a moment or two, then he bent his head and laughed a little. “If that is the price to be paid, I’ll pay it.” He took her hand. “Let’s find something to drink first and greet your grandmère, then we’ll see what else the day brings.”
She walked with him, though she couldn’t help but hope the day brought nothing more than pleasant conversation in her grandmother’s solar. No more missives, no more threats, no more reasons to look skeptically at those she loved. Unfortunately, that left her with a single question that she wasn’t sure she was all that eager to have an answer to.
If Gervase hadn’t written that missive and put it in his bed, who had?
Chapter 20
Gervase walked behind Isabelle and their brothers as they were led to the abbess’s audience chamber. He had sent his men off to seek their fortunes in the buttery and hoped that his own journey wouldn’t land him in whatever served for a dungeon in the place. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t paid his respects to Lady Mary before; it was that he hadn’t visited her when his most pressing concern was how to woo her granddaughter before her son could do him in.
Actually, he supposed it was a bit simpler even than that. He had to determine who was stalking Isabelle and who had his death on his mind, then eliminate both threats so he could go on to a peaceful, lengthy life spent admiring a woman whom he was most definitely not going to be meeting in the lists, no matter what he might or might not have agreed to earlier. He told himself that several times, because every time he caught sight of her fetching self in hose and sporting shorn hair, he realized that she might be less amenable to being told what to do than she should have been.
Not that he would have wanted her to be tractable, he supposed. Heaven knew he didn’t care for being ordered about himself. Why should she be any different?
He had the feeling a very long conversation with Rhys de Piaget about the proper care and feeding of a de Piaget lass was going to be in order, assuming he was still breathing in order to have that conversation.
He looked next to him to find that his brother had dropped back to walk alongside him. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression one of perfect calm. Gervase glared at him on principle.
Joscelin blinked. “What?”
“You look very comfortable.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Joscelin asked, reaching up to scratch his head. “I’m not the one who put a lady of rank and breeding to work in my kitchens.”
“Nay, you’re the fool who knew who she was and allowed me to do the like.”
“If it eases you,” Joscelin said, “I did keep watch over her. Well, except for that moment when Coucy’s man assaulted her, but one must take care of certain bodily functions now and again.”
Gervase shook his head. “Would you have told me the truth about her eventually?”
“And miss the delight of watching you realize who you had with a broom in her hands? Of course not.”
“So you could have her for yourself?” Gervase asked sourly, deciding there was no point in not testing those waters a final time.
“As you know, I’ve had the thought cross my mind. Unfortunately, she wants you. ’Tis a pity she has no unwed sisters, else I might throw myself on Lord Rhys’s mercy and beg for her. Then again, perhaps there will be nothing left of you after he finishes and I might assist our fair flower in recovering from her grief—”
Gervase caught Joscelin by the sleeve before he trotted ahead to put his plan into action. “Let us see what Lord Rhys leaves of me before you start planning your nuptials.”
“I’m provoking you,” Joscelin said with a smile. “To take your mind off more troubling things.”
Gervase didn’t bother asking what his brother thought those more troubling things might be. He could make up that list easily enough himself.
He slowed as their guide stopped in front of a heavy set of wooden doors. He took a deep breath, shot his younger brother a warning look simply because he could, then dredged up a pleasant expression. He could do no more.
They were ushered inside the chamber. Lady Mary was standing in front of the fire, but she rushed over immediately and enveloped Isabelle in a ferocious embrace. A veritable storm of weeping ensued along with a volley of questions concerning exactl
y what Isabelle had been combining that had left her entire family without any idea where she was.
Isabelle finally pulled back from her grandmother, indulged in the mutual dabbing of eyes and cheeks, then looked at the abbess carefully. Gervase knew she was treading carefully because there was something about the set of her shoulders that said as much. He rested his elbow on Joscelin’s shoulder and frowned thoughtfully.
“But, Grandmère, I sent you word,” Isabelle said slowly. “Did you not receive it?”
“Nicholas had a messenger arriving with all due haste,” the abbess said, “but until then—Isabelle, I thought you were dead!”
“Nay, I was well,” Isabelle said, submitting to another embrace and patting her grandmother on the back. “His Grace saw to that personally.”
Gervase frowned. When had Isabelle sent word to the abbess? He couldn’t imagine that she was remembering things amiss, but what did he know? The entire time around his accident was nothing but a fog, still. Obviously, there were things he still needed to discuss with her. He suspected more details about the missive he’d seen not a half hour earlier would be first on the list.
“I see you’ve brought a friend.”
He realized that Abbess Mary was talking about him. He supposed there was no time like the present to begin his wooing of the intimidating Rhys de Piaget. If that ingratiating could begin with the admittedly charming woman standing there with her arm around her granddaughter, so much the better. He walked forward and made the abbess a very low bow.
“My lady,” he said politely. “It is a pleasure, as always.”
“Lord Gervase,” Mary said, extending her hand toward him. “I believe there is a tale here I would like to hear. I can only assume I have you to thank for rescuing my sweet Isabelle from perhaps an unsavoury fate?”
“He was the epitome of all knightly virtues,” Isabelle said smoothly. “I believe we could spend the bulk of the afternoon discussing them and not reach the end of them.”
Mary laughed a little. “Spoken like a girl who has been treated very well by a chivalrous man.” She kissed Isabelle on the cheek. “Let’s take our ease in front of the fire and you can begin your list. Lord Gervase, will you join us?”