proceeded to the dais, arm in arm. Yves found Gabrielle’s gaze bright upon him, then noted the older knight standing slightly behind her.
“My escort thus far, Chevalier Leon d’Aquilare.” Gabrielle introduced the man and he stepped forward. His grip was firm, his brown eyes unerringly bright. He looked to be about forty summers of age, the first few strands of silver touching the temples of his dark brown hair.
“It is my pleasure,” he mumbled, obviously a man of unpolished social graces. “You fought well this day.”
Yves nodded acknowledgment of the gruff compliment, then gestured to the board in turn. “Perhaps we might dine together this evening and take the opportunity to plan our journey.”
“A fine plan,” Leon said with approval.
Gabrielle nodded. “I requested places be held at the end of the dais.” Her violet gaze was darker in this light and seemed filled with mysterious shadows. “I had thought that anywhere above the salt would be fitting.”
There was a question in her tone, so Yves nodded immediately. “I am certain your arrangements will suffice.”
They turned together, and Yves marveled at the difference between Gabrielle’s impassioned argument this afternoon and her cool formality on this evening. It was true that the hall was full of seeing eyes and listening ears, but all the same—and against all reason—he missed the Gabrielle he had glimpsed earlier.
Yves could only hope that once they left these walls behind, the lady would speak her mind with him once more.
“The count’s own marshal!” whispered someone within the assembly as the small group made its way to the board.Yves’ ears pricked with interest, though he gave no outward sign of listening.
“To escort such a minor noblewoman.” The speaker clucked his tongue.
“And one without lands.”
“One would think the count’s marshal would have larger fish in the skillet than to escort her to a convent, the count’s concerns about Rumiens aside.”
“Aye, something is afoot, you can be certain of that.”
“Of course, you know about his parentage…” The voice dropped to a confidential whisper, though Yves had no doubt how the conversation continued.
But it was the earlier words that made his flesh creep, so close were they to his own concerns. He had to do something to allay suspicions.
He recalled suddenly the count’s certainty in Yves’ own attraction to Gabrielle, and knew something could be made of that. A witnessed kiss, a glance too long, and nothing more would be said.
The lady, being as clear thinking as she was, would see the sense of it all, Yves was certain.
The candles had burned low when the count retired, and Yves, anxious to set rumor to rest, immediately turned to Gabrielle.
“Might I accompany you to your chambers?”
Gabrielle blinked, as though confused. “Of course,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, then offered her hand that he might aid her to rise.
Yves, well aware of the many eyes upon them, bent and brushed his lips across the back of her hand.
Gabrielle’s flesh was surprisingly soft, as was the sharp inhalation of her breath. Her remarkable eyes widened, but Yves swept her to her feet undeterred. A whisper of speculation rose around them, but Yves still detected a current of skepticism.
He also felt the hostility emanating from the lady beside him when they gained the corridor. She directed him toward her chambers with a flick of her wrist, not deigning to speak until they stood outside her door. The torch in the sconce flickered orange overhead, and Gabrielle’s eyes flashed with anger when she turned on Yves.
“I had thought you were a man of honor!” she raged in an angry undertone. “What manner of trouble do you mean to make with such gestures?”
Yves barely heard her words, so intent was he upon his task. If only there was someone to note this “tender moment,” all would be well.
A maid ducked out of the adjacent room at that moment,
“My escort thus far, Chevalier Leon d’Aquilare.” Gabrielle introduced the man and he stepped forward. His grip was firm, his brown eyes unerringly bright. He looked to be about forty summers of age, the first few strands of silver touching the temples of his dark brown hair.
“It is my pleasure,” he mumbled, obviously a man of unpolished social graces. “You fought well this day.”
Yves nodded acknowledgment of the gruff compliment, then gestured to the board in turn. “Perhaps we might dine together this evening and take the opportunity to plan our journey.”
“A fine plan,” Leon said with approval.
Gabrielle nodded. “I requested places be held at the end of the dais.” Her violet gaze was darker in this light and seemed filled with mysterious shadows. “I had thought that anywhere above the salt would be fitting.”
There was a question in her tone, so Yves nodded immediately. “I am certain your arrangements will suffice.”
They turned together, and Yves marveled at the difference between Gabrielle’s impassioned argument this afternoon and her cool formality on this evening. It was true that the hall was full of seeing eyes and listening ears, but all the same—and against all reason—he missed the Gabrielle he had glimpsed earlier.
Yves could only hope that once they left these walls behind, the lady would speak her mind with him once more.
“The count’s own marshal!” whispered someone within the assembly as the small group made its way to the board.Yves’ ears pricked with interest, though he gave no outward sign of listening.
“To escort such a minor noblewoman.” The speaker clucked his tongue.
“And one without lands.”
“One would think the count’s marshal would have larger fish in the skillet than to escort her to a convent, the count’s concerns about Rumiens aside.”
“Aye, something is afoot, you can be certain of that.”
“Of course, you know about his parentage…” The voice dropped to a confidential whisper, though Yves had no doubt how the conversation continued.
But it was the earlier words that made his flesh creep, so close were they to his own concerns. He had to do something to allay suspicions.
He recalled suddenly the count’s certainty in Yves’ own attraction to Gabrielle, and knew something could be made of that. A witnessed kiss, a glance too long, and nothing more would be said.
The lady, being as clear thinking as she was, would see the sense of it all, Yves was certain.
The candles had burned low when the count retired, and Yves, anxious to set rumor to rest, immediately turned to Gabrielle.
“Might I accompany you to your chambers?”
Gabrielle blinked, as though confused. “Of course,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, then offered her hand that he might aid her to rise.
Yves, well aware of the many eyes upon them, bent and brushed his lips across the back of her hand.
Gabrielle’s flesh was surprisingly soft, as was the sharp inhalation of her breath. Her remarkable eyes widened, but Yves swept her to her feet undeterred. A whisper of speculation rose around them, but Yves still detected a current of skepticism.
He also felt the hostility emanating from the lady beside him when they gained the corridor. She directed him toward her chambers with a flick of her wrist, not deigning to speak until they stood outside her door. The torch in the sconce flickered orange overhead, and Gabrielle’s eyes flashed with anger when she turned on Yves.
“I had thought you were a man of honor!” she raged in an angry undertone. “What manner of trouble do you mean to make with such gestures?”
Yves barely heard her words, so intent was he upon his task. If only there was someone to note this “tender moment,” all would be well.
A maid ducked out of the adjacent room at that moment,
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