The Order of the Lily (15 page)

Cécile squealed delightedly, clapping as Inferno pirouetted, Gillet widening the circles until they were cantering the whole yard again. Then he halted in front of her once more and neatly dismounted.

‘Heel and hold,' he commanded. Inferno stepped onto the loose rein and Gillet grinned. ‘And that is how you tie up a horse when there is no rail available.'

‘However did you accomplish such training?' breathed Cécile in awe.

Gillet stepped up to her and brazenly slid his hand beneath her hem, mischief flooding his eyes. ‘As in all things, sweetheart, one step at a time.' His fingers tiptoed up her stocking. ‘The first lesson is balance. Those who do not possess it end up lying in a ditch with their maman's ill-gotten barley wreath crushed beyond repair.' He winked as Cécile drew her breath in sharply.

‘Sacré bleu. Larressingle.
Armand told me!
You
were the boy with the pony that day!'

‘Oui.' A guise of pure devilment swept across his features. ‘And I have never forgotten it.'

Cécile reached out to stroke the faded bruising on his cheek, her thoughts flying back to the day when they had met as children. She had deliberately disrupted the swordplay until, as master-in-charge, he'd sat her on his pony to keep her safe. ‘I never meant for anyone to get into trouble when I kicked the horse into a gallop. Armand told me what Papa did,' she whispered. ‘Did … did you suffer?'

‘A young man's pride is a delicate thing,' he answered. ‘I could not sit for nigh on a week, after both your papa and mine dealt me a sound whipping.' His hand had risen on the inside of her thigh and his finger drew patterns across the skin. Cécile felt a heated rush and her stomach was turning somersaults.

‘Who would have thought the boy of that day would become my … my …' She faltered.

Gillet's eyes darkened and his hand stilled. ‘Your what, Cécile?' he breathed. ‘Your lover? Comte d'Armagnac would strip me of my entire hide were he to learn of such outrageous notions.' His fingers resumed their play, gliding higher and Cécile swallowed heavily.

‘Why did you never speak out against me? It would have saved you a beating.'

‘Hardly chivalric.' Under the soft wool of her skirt Gillet's fingers had reached their destination and Cécile gasped, her blood turning molten.

‘I believe, Lady, that you owe me compensation,' he whispered. Gillet spun around suddenly and removed Inferno's bridle. He shooed the horse and threw the leather trappings over the rail. Then he scooped Cécile from the fence. The bridle fell to the ground, unheeded.

‘Where are you taking me?'

‘The barn. Your chamber is too far and my mercy is at an end.' He carried her across the yard, laughing throatily, ‘You once asked me when I first fell in love with you.'

‘We were on the road to Calais, I remember. You answered, “The first day I saw you.”'

‘Well, Lady d'Armagnac, that day at Larressingle was the first time I ever saw you – not in my role as courier at the palace, as you thought.'

Cécile turned his head so that he would look at her. ‘Then that scrawny bag of bones who haunted your youth?'

‘Was you.'

The old Norman barn had an upper floor where small bales of hay and sacks of feed were stacked directly beneath the rafters. Larger sheaves were stacked against the walls on ground level. Gillet dropped the heavy wooden bar across the door and, removing Cécile's cloak, threw it over a loose pile of straw. She sensed in him an air of impatience and the urgency was contagious as he divested them of their clothing. His hands moved with swift tenderness but he took the time to unwind her braid, drawing her hair over them.

‘A mantle of golden sunshine! In naught but her stockings, does the lady hold me entranced.'

Cécile's chuckle was cut short as his mouth descended upon hers. The two lovers forgot the world outside, the sighs and moans the only sounds to be heard within. Cécile gasped at Gillet's fervour, and if his lovemaking could be likened to music, then he had just taken her from one end of the scale to the other with complete disregard for all the notes in between. She lay trembling in his arms as he withdrew beside her.

‘There are times, lady mine,' he panted, ‘when you drive me to complete distraction.'

Cécile's eyes widened and her hand flew to her abdomen. ‘Gillet, I just felt something! Fluttering on the inside, twinges, oh! I'm not sure.' She gazed up at him in disbelief then worry flooded the deep blue eyes. ‘Do you suppose it is because we …'

‘No. 'Tis the quickening.' Gillet smiled indulgently, covering her hand with his. ‘Your child has made itself known to you.'

‘Glory be to God!' A maternal feeling as old as time washed over Cécile and she returned his smile shyly. ‘It will be a boy. I can feel it. And he will look like you, handsome, strong and dark-haired.'

Gillet's expression clouded as a shield of indifference lowered. ‘That would be difficult considering that golden hair rules the Plantagenets.'

A cold horror washed over Cécile as she realised her error. ‘Gillet, forgive me,' she whispered. ‘After what we just shared, I was thinking … I thought … oh, God forgive me! I did not mean to hurt you. I swear I had completely forgotten Edward.'

Gillet rolled away, pensive and brooding as he retrieved his braies. He stood to tie the points of his chausses, his emotions flickering across his countenance like clouds racing before a threatening storm.

‘Gillet, please …'

‘Do not wish upon me that which can never be mine,' he said flatly.

Mortified, Cécile scrambled into her chemise. ‘I was confused for a moment. I was thinking … that … oh, Lord, please say you forgive me.'

Gillet held out her gown, but when Cécile made no move to take it, his arm dropped, his other hand raking through his hair. ‘Damn the Black Prince! May he roast in Hell!' He lowered to one knee. ‘There are times, Cécile, when I can forget, and then there are times when I cannot. Some mornings I wake and hope that England's heir will choke on his own bile.' His eyes flashed angrily. ‘Some days I
cannot
forget how you went to his bed. And now I must watch as his royal seed grows.' He held out her gown again and she took it, dressing quickly to hide her body.

‘Mayhap you would have preferred for me to have twigged it from my womb?' she retorted.

His expression froze, his voice low and icy. ‘No. Never that. But every day watching you I suffer the reminder of what he stole from me.'

‘So, 'tis your honour and pride that is damaged? Must this bone be constantly gnawed between us? Can we not sever this Gordian knot? He did not know I was a virgin!'

‘Would it have made a difference if he had known?' snarled Gillet. He sat and pulled on his boots as a small shower of husks and straw wisps fell on Cécile.

‘Someone is up there,' she shrieked in panic.

Gillet leaped up the rungs of the nearest ladder. ‘Declare yourself!' His voice echoed eerily between the beams and he climbed another two staves to peer into the gloom. He descended shrugging his shoulders. ‘It is probably harvest mice.' He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. ‘Llewellyn has a pet weasel that he sometimes leaves in here, specifically to catch the mice or any voles that have burrowed under the barn.' He flashed an apologetic smile. ‘I forgot about that when I brought you in here. Come, let me re-braid your hair.' He sighed heavily. ‘Forgive a self-righteous, proud fool, Céci. Some things are just going to take a little time.'

Hefting the bar from the barn door, Gillet pushed it open to the sunlight only to be greeted by a wet, snuffling nose as his horse tried to gain admittance.

‘Aaahh! Back! Back!'

Gillet pushed Inferno away and, grabbing his mane, led him to where the bridle had fallen to the ground. As Cécile followed, a prickling sensation crept up her spine and, turning, she saw a flash of dark green material disappear around the corner of the building.

‘Come,' said Gillet, reaching her side.

‘Do you not think to secure the barn door?' she asked, distractedly, remembering Gillet had toed it open whilst carrying her in.

‘Llewellyn will see to it after the evening feed. The bar is too heavy for Trefor to lift off.' They walked to the stables, Llewellyn's cursing greeting them as Gillet relinquished Inferno to his care.

‘Damnable girl! Taken off for the wood again, I'll warrant. Go find 'er, Griffith. I'll no' be eatin' a cold supper this night.'

For some reason, for which she was at a loss to explain, Cécile could not admit to Gillet what she had seen. The idea that Gwynedd had watched them make love was mortifying but, worse, how much had she heard?

The following day Gillet and Cécile were ready to depart for the village. Gillet wanted to settle the account at the dressmaker's and arrange delivery but, just as they were about to leave, Griffith came running towards them, madly waving his arms. His out-of-breath account of sabotage at the mill was met with a surfeit of cursing from Gillet. He dismounted immediately, issuing orders, and turned contritely to Cécile.

‘I promised Monsieur Denis I would settle his account today, Céc, and that of the cobbler too. If Alfred escorts you, would you see it done for me?'

Pleased he had charged her with such a mission, Cécile nodded and accepted the bag of coin. He made her carefully repeat the amounts to be extracted for each account then leaped upon Inferno and spirited away in the direction of the mill.

‘Bad business,' said Alfred, tugging his thick beard as they made their way into the village. ‘Don't know who would do such a thing. Pity to spoil the Master's name day tomorrow, not that he holds much on celebrating it.'

‘Tomorrow is Gillet's name day?'

‘Aye, 'tis. Twenty-five years on this earth. 'Tis high time the lad settled down!' His attention became fixed and he pointed to a field where a crowd of people and horses were gathered. ‘Now what do you suppose is happening there, Miss?' They rode closer and Cécile caught sight of the silver stallion from Andalusia.