Joust of Hearts Page 5

“Fear naught, Lady Dupree. I shall join thee by and by.”

  Inside, Melisande still felt short of breath as she approached the other musicians. One of her maids had brought down her lute and set it on a stool for her upon the gallery. She wanted to get this over with, for she felt that everyone saw the color of fire in her cheeks that likely accompanied the heat radiating from her person.

  She half-heartedly played through the piece. At one point, she looked up and saw Devin leaning against the portal to where they had been unchaperoned. Her hands shook through the rest of the arietta.

  The audience applauded. Melisande curtsied and made her way quickly to Helena.

  “That was splendid,” Helena complimented as she took Melisande’s hands and pulled her closer. Lowering her voice, she said, “I can tell I have interrupted something. Do forgive me. I shall be more cautious in the future.”

  “I know naught of what you speak,” Melisande denied, sweeping aside unseen wrinkles from the front of her robes. Did I think I could hide my behavior from this woman or anyone else for that matter? Guilt threatened to overcome her. Dear God, I should never have…

  “So, I see you have met our special guest,” Helena said over Melisande’s head.

  Melisande whirled around and came face to chest with Devin. Her eyes made a gradual ascent to meet his. She tried to swallow, but her dry mouth would not permit it, so she gave him a polite smile.

  Devin returned her smile with triple the enthusiasm. He handed her a goblet of wine, the one he’d taken from her so they could embrace. She took a sip as she couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Aye, we exchanged…words.”

  “Then you know Devin is—”

  “Very anxious to get back to our conversation.” He finished Helena’s sentence and looked down into Melisande’s eyes pointedly.

  Lord Bergavny joined the group and asked Melisande for the next dance just as she opened her mouth to respond to Devin’s brazen comment.

  Melisande swallowed her discourse, which she knew would surely have put Devin back in his place. “I would enjoy that very much, Lord Bergavny,” she replied, passing the goblet back to Devin and tearing her gaze from his. She felt a barrage of emotions assault her. Devin had gotten away with far more verbal insinuation than was polite. He is awfully arrogant. How could he have hinted like that to Lady Helena, of all people, that we were having a ‘conversation’? Why, it simply reeks of tomfoolery. Melisande refused to have Helena think ill of her. She pushed all that aside for now and managed to smile at Lord Bergavny.

  “Pray excuse us.” He nodded to Devin and Helena, and Melisande placed her hand atop his proffered arm.

  Devin watched Melisande being led toward the other dancers. Thinking quickly, he passed the used goblets into the hands of a passing servant, and turned to Helena. “Would you permit me, Lady Bergavny?” He lifted a solicitous elbow to Helena, which she took.

  “I shall, Sir Devin.” She smiled then added, “You have shaved your beard. I don’t believe I have seen your chin since first your whiskers grew in. How long has it been? Mayhaps a score of years or so?” she cajoled with a sly grin.

  Devin chuckled and looked out toward the others preparing to dance. “Surely not a full score, my lady, for I am not yet twenty and nine.”

  Helena laughed. “You know I do but jest. I remember when you came to us as if it were yesterday. It was just days after Henry VII was crowned King of England, and you were a young squire having aided Fitzherbert and his allies in the battle for Willowbrook. I recall when Henry gave the castle and its immense property to Fitzherbert. However, there seemed to be a bit of confusion over ownership.”

  “This is one of your favorite stories, my lady, or have you perhaps forgotten that I was there?” Now it was his turn to taunt her.

  “Aye, indeed, you impudent boy.” She grinned then sobered. “It was also the most frightening time of my life. But once the day was won, Fitzherbert requested of your sponsor that you stay on at Willowbrook with us. He agreed and, as young as you were, Fitzherbert knighted you in tribute of the victory.”

  “It was and still is an honor I shall be eternally grateful for.” He bowed to her, but as the music began, his thoughts strayed. After much training and once he became of age, he’d traveled from Willowbrook to some of the more local tourneys, then to London, applying his skills of riding and wenching, as was his wont to do.

  The king had initially wished to reward his comrade just after Bosworth, and had offered a dukedom to Fitzherbert. He had been honored by the king’s generosity. However, he’d explained to Henry that it was his fervent wish to retire without being tied to the tasks that accompanied the offered rank. Henry had sympathized but, regardless, given Fitzherbert a peer’s title.

  Several steps into the dance, Devin glanced around to find Melisande.

  As the ladies followed each other in a close circle, the men circumnavigated in the opposite direction from without.

  One of the ladies addressed Melisande. “Will you be joining us for dinner out on the east lawns at noontime tomorrow?”

  Melisande looked to Helena, who followed behind. Helena nodded.

  “I will be in attendance, aye,” Melisande confirmed, and inclined her head at the woman who had enquired.

  “Will you be entertaining us further?” one of the other women asked.

  Melisande again looked to Helena for an answer to the question and Helena spoke up. “Melisande is a guest here at Willowbrook as you yourselves are. She will not be performing at every turn.”

  “Oh aye.”

  “By all means.”

  “We do agree.”

  After a few moments passed, Melisande spoke softly to Helena. “After these rounds are finished, would you escort me to my chamber?”

  “Of course, Melisande. You are not feeling ill, are you?”

  “Not at all. Merely tired.”

  The women expanded the circle to intertwine with the men.

  As Devin passed Melisande, he whispered, “I must see you tonight.” Their gazes never left each other’s as they threaded their way through the other dancers. She shook her head, hoping that he understood her refusal.

  They met again. “But why?” he pleaded quietly.

  “I have had my fill of sinful deeds for one night, thank you very much. Now do not speak of it again,” Melisande whispered back in a rush.

  When the dance ended and they honored their partners all around, Devin leaned toward Melisande. “Then when?” he asked quietly.

  “On the east lawns at the dinner hour tomorrow.”

  “The dinner hour?” he asked, puzzled. Melisande nodded and he added, “But all will be in attendance.”

  Melisande looked into his lush green eyes and said aloud, “Precisely,” then lowered her head in accompaniment of an elegant curtsy.

  Helena came and took Melisande by the arm. As they passed Lord Bergavny, Melisande thanked him for a wonderful evening and, in turn, he thanked her for sharing her talents. The two ladies started up the stairs and Melisande did not wish to yield even the slightest glance toward Devin. She could, however, feel his warm gaze upon her person.

  The two women reached the top of the staircase and Helena paused to comment about the look on Melisande’s face. “You look…rather… Well, very—”

  Helena was obviously at a loss for words, but at the moment, no words was exactly what Melisande wished for. They began the ascent up the narrow stone stairs toward her chambers.

  Melisande tried to comfort her hostess. “Truly, I had a wonderful time, I am just tired.”

  “Fitzherbert and I are concerned about you,” Helena said, placing her arm around Melisande’s shoulders.

  “You need not be, truly. Go, dance the night away and be merry. You and Lord Bergavny seem to be so in love. Do not take that for granted,” she said as they reached her door, just before Maggie pulled it open for Melisande.

  “You are wise beyond your years, my child.” The elder woman
smiled.

  “Goodnight, Helena.” Melisande dipped her head in a polite bow then she stepped through the door.

  Tilly and Maggie helped her undress. They chattered between themselves about the different men they had met and which ones they would like to get to know better. Melisande dismissed the young chits and blew out the candles herself. Used to an even cooler chamber at Dupree than Willowbrook’s walls afforded, she decided to move aside the large tapestry and open the shutters for some fresh air. Once this was accomplished, she climbed into bed.

  Melisande was drifting into a satisfying slumber—in truth, she was even more tired than she had admitted to Helena—when she heard a noise that seemed to come from outside on the allure below.

  Through the barest of slits in her parted eyelids, upon the ledge she could see the tall figure of a man leaning against the partition that separated the twin portals in the wall, his shoulders just touching either side of the one he filled. Melisande knew exactly who it was. Devin. How dare he come to her room like this, and how long had he been standing there? If he took one step in, she vowed she would scream to high heaven.

  Chapter Six

  Devin watched Melisande as she slept in the moonlight, gazing upon her halo of hair fanning out across the pillow beneath her head. His insides felt as if they were plummeting to his feet. She seemed so pure, so real. God’s teeth, how he longed to climb under that coverlet and just hold her. Nay, he admitted with a shake of his head, he wished to do more than that… Much more. But she was asleep. He daren’t awaken her, for he knew she’d never forgive him for disobeying her wishes about not wanting his company this night. For as much beauty as she possessed, she had a headstrong disposition. What sort of attack could break down such defenses? He almost laughed aloud at the idea. He’d never even thought to adhere to the concerns of the other women he’d been with. He’d never had to. They’d wanted him and he’d wanted them. He’d never lingered beyond the coupling, had never had to make pleasant conversation. The arrangement had always been simple.

  He focused on Melisande once again. Suddenly nothing was simple.

  Pretending to be asleep, Melisande did not move at all during his perusal of her, which, to her, seemed to go on forever.

  Of a sudden, he stood up straight. Melisande flooded her lungs with air, ready to shout in alarm. However, he reached up and placed the tapestry back over the window as if shutting a door, then he was gone.

  Melisande sat up in her bed, and the scream she’d prepared was hastily puffed out of her mouth in silence. She threw the coverlet off and dashed over to peek beyond the tapestry. It seemed that he’d vanished over the wall.

  “That was the extent of his visit?” she said aloud, suddenly wondering at the discovery that she’d actually wanted his company so late at night…in her chamber. Her indecisiveness vaulted emotions over the edge from victim to huntress. A very disappointed huntress. More vexed than before, she slammed the shutters closed, bolted them, flung the tapestry shut and marched back to bed, stomping her feet on the hard floor, kicking at rushes all the way. “Honestly, men are the most frustrating creatures,” she murmered to the empty room. She pulled her pillow over her head and, in a huff, went to sleep.

  * * * *

  “You have slept late again, m’lady. If you did not love your sleep so, I am sure Maggie and me would be labeled a disgrace by the others who share our tasks.”

  “Oh, Tilly, do not fuss so,” she mumbled from her stupor and opened her eyes with caution. They’d moved the tapestry so that the sun beamed into the room, illuminating everything to a visual screech. She sank deeper into the warmth and darkness of her bedding.

  Maggie pulled the covering from Melisande’s face. “Now, you will be needing to break your fast. I shall fetch a salver before all is swept away.” She hurried from the room.

  “Your light green gown and ivory robes will do fine for the tour and dinner later this day. Which headpiece would you prefer, your green chaperon or the ivory-horned headdress?”

  Resigned to the invasion, Melisande sat up in her bed and found that she had a slight headache. “I will not be wearing a headpiece, Tilly. I would like a braid.”

  “But, m’lady, everyone will be wearing a head covering of some sort,” Tilly whined in a tone that made Melisande want to place her hands over her ears.

  Here was yet another battle she didn’t care to attend. Besides, she was at the home of a friend, not at court, for heaven’s sake. She should be able to take her ease if she so desired. “Bring me the one I wear for Mass.”

  Tilly did as she was told and returned from the trunks with the hat, handing it to her mistress. Melisande proceeded to remove the length of long sheer white fabric from the headpiece. “We shall fasten this to the top of my head for a covering. Will that suffice?”

  Perhaps if Maggie had been there, Melisande would have drawn more argument from her maids. Together they, at times, were a formative pair. She supposed they only did it for her sake and for the sake of appearances, but there really was no need. Not at Willowbrook.

  After Melisande ate the bread and meat Maggie had brought up, the girls dressed her and began dressing her hair. They wove the braids at the front on both sides of her head to form a crown, then joined loosely at the center to fall down to her waist. With the thin handle of a wooden comb, Maggie meticulously tucked the folded material into the front of the crown. Then she lifted the fabric off Melisande’s face and let it hang from the crown to halfway down her back. Tilly and Maggie both agreed that this was more practical and feminine than the other head coverings.

  Melisande wondered if Devin would like it then, just as quickly, pushed that thought aside.

  * * * *

  Lord Bergavny was speaking to a group of twenty or so when Melisande finally joined them. “This day we shall take a tour of Willowbrook and her grounds. I myself will escort you to the stables, to the gardens, and finally through the great hall that is the heart of Willowbrook. I shall share with you the history of the battle in which I fought to obtain this property”—Lord Bergavny paused then continued with much puzzlement—“which seems to not have been so many years ago, unless one would study a chart of years.”

  The group chuckled.

  Melisande was not looking forward to that part of the tour. These knights are all the same, she thought to herself. Always talking of their former days of glory.

  At once she became aware of a presence behind her. She spared the intrusion a quick glance. How could she have thought it would be anyone but Devin? Why, she could practically sense his virility. After all, she had felt it when he stood just inside her chamber the night before, even from across her room. Facing forward again, she adjusted her sleeves.

  “Good day, Lady Melisande.” Devin spoke softly, close to her ear.

  She was sure he knew the reaction he caused when he breathed his words so near. A flash of memory presented her with the vision of Devin upon her chamber’s ledge, and Melisande seemed to transform into a saucy creature, one over which she had no control. “Good day to you, Devin,” she said, turning fully to look up at him. His handsome face nearly made her knees buckle. Would he catch her and pull her into his big strong arms? Get hold of yourself, Melisande. She mentally tried to shake off her lustful thoughts and contradictory feelings. Her thoughts would insist upon one thing and out from her mouth came the opposite. The battle going on inside between my body and mind… Why, no knight, no matter how strong, could stand up to its force. Of this she was certain.

  The group started forward following Lord Bergavny, and Devin continued to speak close to Melisande. “You are a pleasant sight to look upon this day, my lady.”

  “And I was not last eve?” she asked raising an eyebrow, hoping to draw from him confession and summon as many smart retorts from her own lips as possible.

  “I wanted to do more last eve than look,” he purred into her ear.

  “You did do more last eve than look,” she whispered sarcastically, ev
en though her heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest. Oh, how this man excites the senses.

  “Aye, and you were most agreeable.” He placed his hands on her waist from behind and gave her a squeeze.

  Melisande felt unsettled. The control of the situation seemed completely out of her hands now, and she wiggled away from his grasp. “Mayhaps. Now be still that I may hear what Lord Bergavny has to tell.”

  Much to her relief, Devin did not speak again until they left the stables. Quietly, from behind, he offered, “Did you dream of me after you retired?”

  “I… I never remember having dreams,” she lied. In her dream he’d come back through the portal and made love to her. He’d no doubt enjoy hearing that, she thought wryly. Melisande folded her arms in front of her to stop her hands from shaking. She was thankful that he could not see her burning cheeks.

  “You visited my dreams. Would you like to hear of it?” he enquired, stepping so close that the tips of his boots became lost under the hem of her robes.

  She tried to pull away. “I am sure I would not be interested—”

  “Oh, but you would.” Devin caught her by the arm and made her face him.

  “Very well, what type of gown was I wearing?” she asked, yielding to his insistence. At least now he would have a topic to stick to, and not wander back to the indiscretions of the night before.

  He slid his palm down her arm, lingering at her wrist. “You did not wear a single strip of cloth in my dream,” he admitted, just above a whisper.

  As fast as lightning she spun away from him, but Devin leaned his chest forward so that he was gently pressing against her back. She could feel the heat of him through their garments. “Nothing but your golden hair covered my pillow as we lay there together.”

  In an attempt to escape Devin’s insolence and equally brazen topic, she cleared her throat and hastily searched for a subject to present to the lord of the manor, “Pray tell us, Lord Bergavny, have you any plans for additions to your gardens?” Melisande blurted a bit too loudly.