her?
Never.
The truth was enough to make Gabrielle squirm. Unwillingly, she lifted her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the imprint of Yves’ firm lips against hers, and her heart skipped a beat at the recollection of his sure touch. With shaking fingers, Gabrielle traced the outline of her own mouth, feeling as though it had somehow been changed by that brief embrace.
Would everyone within the hall be able to tell that she had been kissed?
And by whom?
What a weakness she had! It would have been so simple to deny Yves any response, to stand stock-still so he wouldknow exactly how unwelcome his embrace had been. But Gabrielle knew she had not done so.
Had Yves known how his touch had weakened her? Had he felt her quiver in response?
Was she doomed to repeat her mother’s mistake?
No! Gabrielle closed her eyes and prayed fiercely that Yves had not noticed, that he had been so fixed on his needs that any response of her own did not matter.
Surprise had been against her, she resolved firmly. Now that she knew the manner of tricks Yves was inclined to play, he would not catch her off guard again.
The issue resolved, Gabrielle dressed in haste. Her dark green surcoat was wrought of heavy wool, simple in line and warm beyond all. She unfurled thick knitted stockings, donned them and fastened the garters high above her knees.
The sturdy leather boots she had had made were more like a man’s riding boots than those made for ladies, but Gabrielle liked their solid strength. Her thoughts of Thomas grew stronger as she braided her hair into a single plait, and her fingers stilled with a sudden realization. It was as though she girded herself for a battle and a journey that would leave her life changed.
A pang shot through her heart at that thought. Surely she could not lose her beloved Thomas? Surely the boy would be saved?
Surely it was not too late?
Unable to bear the thought, Gabrielle fastened the end of her braid with hasty fingers. She hurled her homespun cloak over her shoulders, gathered her possessions into her saddlebags and strode from the room.
The keep was stirring to life, a rustle of activity in the hall revealing those who had already risen to break their fast. Gabrielle took a piece of bread and an apple wrinkled from a winter spent in storage.
A cluster of pretty noblewomen, obviously rousted at thisearly hour by the demands of travel alone, chattered together in one corner. One pointed to Gabrielle and they giggled, their whispers now exchanged behind their hands.
Gabrielle refused to give them the pleasure of a response. She stoically finished her bread and drank her ale, achingly aware of the sensitivity of her lips. Could they see? Did they know? Her cheeks burned with the possibility.
“Well, good morning to you, Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle glanced up to find a tiny, angelically beautiful woman sliding onto the bench opposite. Gabrielle forced a polite smile, wishing it could be anyone other than Lady Adelys de Mornay who chose to make conversation on this morning.
Adelys had visited Perricault for the first time while Gabrielle was roundly pregnant with Thomas. Adelys’ charming company and her love of the hunt had made her visit a welcome distraction for Michel, but Gabrielle had felt the noblewoman’s six week visit had been overstaying her welcome.
And twice a year for each year since—at least until Perricault had been lost—Adelys had paused at the estate, purportedly en route to one place or another. The way she settled in with a vengeance, not to mention the expenditure of housing and feeding her retinue, made Gabrielle suspect the woman came specifically to Perricault.
Though what Perricault’s appeal might be Gabrielle could not have said. Certainly, the hunting was renowned at Perricault, and Adelys had a lust for the hunt, rare in a woman.
Perhaps that was the sum of it. Undoubtedly, Gabrielle would never know more. She looked now at her companion, amazed once more
Never.
The truth was enough to make Gabrielle squirm. Unwillingly, she lifted her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the imprint of Yves’ firm lips against hers, and her heart skipped a beat at the recollection of his sure touch. With shaking fingers, Gabrielle traced the outline of her own mouth, feeling as though it had somehow been changed by that brief embrace.
Would everyone within the hall be able to tell that she had been kissed?
And by whom?
What a weakness she had! It would have been so simple to deny Yves any response, to stand stock-still so he wouldknow exactly how unwelcome his embrace had been. But Gabrielle knew she had not done so.
Had Yves known how his touch had weakened her? Had he felt her quiver in response?
Was she doomed to repeat her mother’s mistake?
No! Gabrielle closed her eyes and prayed fiercely that Yves had not noticed, that he had been so fixed on his needs that any response of her own did not matter.
Surprise had been against her, she resolved firmly. Now that she knew the manner of tricks Yves was inclined to play, he would not catch her off guard again.
The issue resolved, Gabrielle dressed in haste. Her dark green surcoat was wrought of heavy wool, simple in line and warm beyond all. She unfurled thick knitted stockings, donned them and fastened the garters high above her knees.
The sturdy leather boots she had had made were more like a man’s riding boots than those made for ladies, but Gabrielle liked their solid strength. Her thoughts of Thomas grew stronger as she braided her hair into a single plait, and her fingers stilled with a sudden realization. It was as though she girded herself for a battle and a journey that would leave her life changed.
A pang shot through her heart at that thought. Surely she could not lose her beloved Thomas? Surely the boy would be saved?
Surely it was not too late?
Unable to bear the thought, Gabrielle fastened the end of her braid with hasty fingers. She hurled her homespun cloak over her shoulders, gathered her possessions into her saddlebags and strode from the room.
The keep was stirring to life, a rustle of activity in the hall revealing those who had already risen to break their fast. Gabrielle took a piece of bread and an apple wrinkled from a winter spent in storage.
A cluster of pretty noblewomen, obviously rousted at thisearly hour by the demands of travel alone, chattered together in one corner. One pointed to Gabrielle and they giggled, their whispers now exchanged behind their hands.
Gabrielle refused to give them the pleasure of a response. She stoically finished her bread and drank her ale, achingly aware of the sensitivity of her lips. Could they see? Did they know? Her cheeks burned with the possibility.
“Well, good morning to you, Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle glanced up to find a tiny, angelically beautiful woman sliding onto the bench opposite. Gabrielle forced a polite smile, wishing it could be anyone other than Lady Adelys de Mornay who chose to make conversation on this morning.
Adelys had visited Perricault for the first time while Gabrielle was roundly pregnant with Thomas. Adelys’ charming company and her love of the hunt had made her visit a welcome distraction for Michel, but Gabrielle had felt the noblewoman’s six week visit had been overstaying her welcome.
And twice a year for each year since—at least until Perricault had been lost—Adelys had paused at the estate, purportedly en route to one place or another. The way she settled in with a vengeance, not to mention the expenditure of housing and feeding her retinue, made Gabrielle suspect the woman came specifically to Perricault.
Though what Perricault’s appeal might be Gabrielle could not have said. Certainly, the hunting was renowned at Perricault, and Adelys had a lust for the hunt, rare in a woman.
Perhaps that was the sum of it. Undoubtedly, Gabrielle would never know more. She looked now at her companion, amazed once more
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