Claire Delacroix (5 page)

And there, the sadly neglected orchard of Tullymullagh caught the late afternoon sunlight.

Luc paused to look. There was no shortage of weeds tangled
about the fruit trees’ trunks, their branches were in dire need of pruning. The drainage was good here, he noted quickly, the slope angled very well to the south.

The trees, though, had been abandoned. ’Twas a tragic waste.

Perhaps one like Pyrs had passed away and none had replaced him. A sadness claimed Luc’s heart that such a legacy should go unappreciated.

And he broke ranks with his brothers without another thought. He had to go and look at the trees, see how badly they had been neglected, see if there was anything he might do.

“Luc! The stables are this way!” Burke called, evidently thinking him disoriented.

“My labor lies this way,” he declared without slowing his pace.

Rowan frowned. “You will find naught to make a woman laugh there.”

“
You
find something to make her laugh,” Luc retorted, his gaze lifting to the trees once more. Aye, someone had once toiled to see each spaced well from the other.

“You cannot decline to participate!” Burke called.

Luc glanced back with a smile, liking the idea as soon as he heard it.

He simply would not go on Brianna’s quest.

No more than that. He did not want a bride, after all, and an indulged princess certainly would not have any use for him. And if Luc remained here, in his sire’s presence, he might sooner obtain the seal of Llanvelyn.

’Twas perfect.

“I have just done precisely that,” he retorted.

Burke’s astonishment was clear. “But—”

“But naught! I know my place and it is not with a princess by my side.” Luc’s tone was resolute as he waved his
brothers off. “Go! Go in haste and bring her gifts. Win her hand before the snow flies, for I have much work to do at Llanvelyn.”

Rowan laughed, though there was no malice in his merriment. “Ah, Luc, what has happened to the man who once you were?” When Luc ignored the comment, Rowan shrugged and turned to the stables, leaving Burke staring after their eldest brother.

Luc forgot them both as the bark of the first tree came under his hand. He was yet the man he always had been, though Luc did not care whether any understood that. Luc noted the scars of insects, the bushiness of growth in dire need of pruning. He frowned and immediately made plans for the tree’s recovery.

This, Luc resolved with a nod at the forgotten tree, this he would do for the memory of Pyrs.

Fenella bounced into Brianna’s chambers, her eyes sparkling. No doubt she had been by the hearth in the kitchens again. Brianna considered how difficult the young maid would find her inevitable transition to lady of her family manor, for she would be unwelcome in her own kitchens then.

Or, at least, the gossip would cease when she arrived. ’Twould nigh kill Fenella, Brianna was certain.

The hour was late, the light fading so from the room that Brianna had just laid her detested embroidery aside. The hoofbeats of the horses had faded away hours past, leaving the princess wondering how long ’twould be before one of the brothers returned.

This day had been reassuring, both in the fact that she had won her way, after all, and that none of her maids had been able to induce her to laugh, despite their best efforts to the contrary.

Brianna might win this battle yet. Indeed, she could do no less. Already her sire showed more vigor than he had since the loss of Tullymullagh. Throughout the day, Brianna’s restless imagination had conjured fanciful dreams of her father restored to the throne.

And how he would smile as the last stone was finally set into Tullymullagh’s walls.

“You will never guess what has happened,” Fenella enthused. She rocked slightly on the stool opposite, her toes tapping restlessly as though the news would burst from her of its own accord. The other handmaidens looked up from their work with curiosity.

“Then you must tell me.” Brianna smiled, tucking her needle into the embroidery.

“Oh my lady, you will never believe it!” Fenella clasped her hands together and leaned toward her mistress, her eyes round. “One of them did not go.”

The women gasped at this, but Brianna frowned. “You mean one of the brothers? He did not go on the quest?”

“Aye, the one on the end in less fine clothes. You must recall him, though he was the least remarkable of them all.”

Brianna might have argued that point, though her handmaidens quickly concurred. She recalled the man in simple garb all too well, for his gaze had been steady with disapproval when he met her own. Her own response to that level blue stare had been startling, for he was the least handsome of the three, with a great nose and a perfectly white forelock stark against his dark hair.

Yet there was something compelling about him, perhaps born of his disapproval. Uther had confided that he was, in fact, the eldest one whom Gavin had not wanted to invite.

Perhaps Brianna was but curious as to what this Luc had done to earn his sire’s dismissiveness.

Never mind that this son had looked at her as though he
could not wait to be free of her presence. That had been a first for Brianna and a feeling that she could not forget.

Perhaps Brianna only had a natural urge to see this Luc’s obviously low opinion of her corrected. But even speaking directly to him and turning her charm upon him had earned her naught, ’twas troublingly clear.

’Twas no less troubling that Brianna could conjure his visage perfectly in her mind’s eye.

No less his scowl. Indeed, Brianna had already wondered what such a humorless man might fetch to make her laugh. And now, she was to be denied that answer.

That
must be why Fenella’s news was so annoying!

“But he
has
to go,” Brianna insisted. “That is the wager, after all. It is a
quest
. They all must go, at my bidding, like one of the old tales.”

But Fenella shook her head and leaned even closer. Her voice dropped to a scandalized whisper and the maids gathered closer. “I hear that he bade his brothers win you quickly that he might return home to his fields.”

“Nay!” One of the maids laughed in disbelief.

“How could he not want to wed our lady?”

The maids erupted into giggles but Brianna straightened with a nearly audible snap.

’Twas a critical part of Brianna’s plan that all three brothers abandon Tullymullagh. They must go on the quest in order to
fail
at the quest! That alone must be why she felt so irritated.

The man muddled her plan.

Who did he think he was?

“In fact,” Fenella continued with a delighted giggle, “he has taken to Tullymullagh’s own orchards. Cook said that the ostler said that he said he would make his time count for something of
merit
in this place.”

“He would rather labor in the orchards than compete for a princess’ hand?” The handmaidens tittered like little birds at this news.

This she had to see! Brianna pushed to her feet and strode to the window as her maids chattered behind her.

There, within the circle of the orchard’s trees, in the fading light of the dusk, she could just discern the silhouette of a man.

And Brianna knew with absolute certainty who it was. Her heart skipped a beat.

’Twas true.

“But Lady Brianna is a renowned beauty! Men have come to compete for her hand for years!”

“Indeed, I heard tell of some offering to pay hard coin to join the ranks of Gavin’s sons!”

“Imagine!”

“What is amiss with the man?”

There appeared to be naught amiss in the world of Gavin’s son. From here, it looked as though he was trimming the trees and working diligently at the task as though he had not a care in the world.

And so intent was this man upon his labor that he apparently did not even note that the light was fading. The very sight of his concentration did naught to assuage Brianna’s pride.

Outrage rose within her. Why, she had set the rules of the game, she had laid out a quest, she had a plan to regain both her independence and her father’s holding—this man had no right refusing to even participate!

If he did not even deign to go, then Brianna could not refuse to laugh at his gift—which meant she could not refuse
him
.

And that simply could not be permitted to happen.

Fortunately, Brianna had no compunction about setting Luc Fitzgavin straight.

She sailed out of her chambers, her handmaids gossiping excitedly in her wake, and stalked toward a man in dire need of revelation.

L
uc was not particularly surprised to see Brianna striding through the courtyard toward him, her kirtle flying out behind her.

What did surprise him was that it had taken her so long to come. In his experience, indulged women were quick to note deficiencies in their attendance. Brianna tugged off her veil and cast it impatiently at the ground with a marked disregard for convention. The orchard was clearly her destination and her mood was evidently less than prime.

What doubly surprised Luc was the wave of anticipation that rolled through him. Indeed, Brianna was even more alluring in her anger than she had been in the hall and Luc’s blood quickened that he was the target of her anger.

As she drew nearer, Luc saw that Brianna’s eyes flashed, a flushed spot burned in each cheek. She gathered up her skirts and strode into the orchard with purpose, indifferent to the survival of her fine shoes. Burrs and dried weeds snatched at her gown but she strode on, eyes flashing emerald fire, oblivious to every obstacle.

She was magnificent. Luc found himself turning to confront her and bracing for a battle of words, without ever having had any intention of doing so.

“You!” Brianna jabbed one finger through the air. “You cannot stay here. You simply cannot!”

Luc folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the approaching princess with feigned indifference. “I just have.” He shrugged, purely to infuriate her.

It worked.

“Oh! You are
insolent!
I am the princess of Tullymullagh and I will not permit you to remain.” Brianna snagged her kirtle on the branch of a tree and gave the garment a frustrated tug. A slight tearing sound resulted. If Luc had expected her to moan over the damage, he would have called her response wrong.

The princess glared at Luc, cursed, and clutched even more of her voluminous skirts before continuing toward him. She came to a breathless halt before him, tipped up her chin, and looked him in the eye.

And she had a dangerous allure with such proximity. The ripe curve of Brianna’s breasts was within a handspan of Luc’s chest, the fan of her breath brushed his skin. A waft of a feminine scent—Luc fancied ’twas attar of roses—set a heat unfurling in his belly.

Ye gods, had he ever met a more beguiling woman?

“I shall
force
you to follow my quest!” she declared vehemently, her eyes flashing.

Luc let himself smile. Brianna was a good bit tinier than he and ’twas amusing to consider how she might single-handedly compel him to depart.

“Indeed?” he could not help but ask.

His smile clearly did naught to improve her mood. “Indeed!” Brianna retorted. “Why, I shall call the gatekeeper this very moment and have him escort you to the road.”

Luc arched a brow and glanced toward the gates. “The gates have been closed since sunset.”

Brianna spun to look, her golden hair whirling around her
shoulders, the wavy tresses evidently having worked free of her braid. Luc was certain he had never seen hair of such an incredible color. It made him want to touch it, but he had no more than lifted his hand before she spun back to face him.

Her lips had thinned that he spoke the truth, but she squared her shoulders regally and looked him dead in the eye.

Indeed, the lady did not surrender the field readily. Luc could not help but admire her persistence.

“You may pass through the broken wall, as the invaders did,” she charged.

“Ah, but ’twould not be seemly,” Luc returned solemnly.

“Seemly?” the lady echoed in an indignant hiss. “What is not
seemly
is your lingering here when I have granted a quest.”

“Yet here I will remain.” Luc turned and deliberately nicked a spur from the closest bough with his blade, knowing that his indifference would trouble her greatly.

’Twas impossible to resist.

“There is no place for you to sleep,” she claimed, with a toss of her wondrous hair. “I am quite certain that all pallets are claimed this night.”

“I will sleep in the stables. ’Tis no trouble at all.” Luc granted the lady his most winning smile.

Her nostrils flared. “I shall forbid it!”

“But the arrangement is made.” Luc leaned casually against the tree, intrigued by her determination to be rid of him. “Indeed, your ostler is most kind.”

Brianna stamped her foot. “You cannot do this! You
must
leave on my quest.” She fixed Luc with a bright eye and her voice lowered. “ ’Tis how it works in every bard’s tale—how can you be so cursedly stubborn?”