Claire Delacroix by The Temptress Page A

satchel and headed away from the clamor of the hall. The two slipped as quietly as shadows from the hall, then ran as quickly as they could.
    The night was black, the moon high, and Esmeraude knew they had much distance to put behind themselves this night. They ran toward the rocky outcropping on the shore where they had hidden their small boat.
    “Did I not ask what this encumbrance might be?” Célie asked when they slowed to a fast walk.
    Esmeraude granted her maid a sparkling smile. “My maidenhead, of course.”
    “What nonsense is this?”
    Esmeraude had not expected ready agreement to her scheme, although it made perfect sense to her. She tried to explain in a reasonable manner. “’Tis my maidenhead alone that is responsible for the events of this eve. I think it only sensible to be rid of it.”
    Célie made a choking sound.
    “’Tis perfectly clear - a maiden can be forced to couple with any man who happens to be stronger than she. ’Tis an unfair advantage, for most men are stronger than most women.”
    “But still...”
    “If men mean to use me as a pawn to win Ceinn-beithe, then I dare not allow them such an advantage,” Esmeraude said firmly. “Nay, I shall surrender my maidenhead to the first stranger of promise, and then no man can compel me to wed him because he has seized the prize of my virginity.”
    “Esmeraude, this is too bold by far!”
    “’Tis but a small price to pay for the surety of wedding whomsoever I desire.”
    Célie shook her head again. “But Esmeraude, in your innocence, you underestimate the obsessions of men. You may have no spouse as a result of this folly. What if the man you desire wishes only a virginal bride?”
    Esmeraude smiled, and dismissed her maid’s well-intentioned concerns. “The man I wed will love me sufficiently to forgive such a small detail.”
    “’Tis not a small -” Célie began, then shook her head anew. “’Tis clear I cannot make you see the truth of it on this night. Know this then - ’tis your mother who will have both my hide and yours should you pursue this madness,” the maid concluded testily. “Mark my words, Esmeraude, this is an ill-fated scheme.”
    But Esmeraude was not inclined to heed advice in this moment for there was a greater trouble before them. She retraced her steps and counted the rocks anew, but the truth was inescapable. “Célie, our curran is gone!”
    “Nay, it cannot be so!”
    But it was. And without the small boat they were trapped on the Isle of Mull. Both turned to look back to the hall of the King of the Isles, knowing how readily he could exact his due for the insult rendered to his man. They pivoted and looked across the deceptively narrow stretch of water betwixt the isle and the mainland. In the distance, Esmeraude spotted a dark shadow bobbing insouciantly along.
    She swore, knowing that she had not tucked the boat high enough to be safe from the rising tide. “Oh, ’tis all my own fault!”
    “Esmeraude! Such language is unfitting for a lady!”
    “But fitting under the circumstance. I will not sit patiently to await the vengeance of the King of the Isles.” Or indeed of the Norseman. Esmeraude spoke fiercely and drummed her fingers on her crossed arms as she thought. “I shall swim if need be.”
    “If you survive such a folly, then I shall throttle you myself!” Célie muttered with equal ferocity. The pair glanced at each other and laughed at their own ferocity. Bickering would serve naught. They sat together on the rocks and watched the waves in frustration.
    “There must be a way,” Esmeraude declared.
    “From the fat to the fire is what my mother would say,” the maid said with a shake of her head. “I wager you did not plan on such a challenge as this.”
    “Nay. But is it not exciting, in a way, Célie? We must resolve our own predicament, as all fortune-seekers and adventurers must do.”
    “If this is excitement, ’tis a quality I can well live without.”
    “Not I!”