November 1171
Luc Fitzgavin came to Tullymullagh under protest, his displeasure with that fact rising with every mile of the road that passed beneath him. ’Twas true that Gavin not only knew the perfect bait to lure his eldest son, but only the manipulative old mercenary had had the audacity to use it. The Welsh barony of Llanvelyn hung in the balance.
Again.
Indeed, Luc told himself that he would not have left Llanvelyn for any lesser price. He refused to consider either how his restlessness had grown in recent years or how much he had enjoyed the long voyage to Ireland.
Luc had pledged, after all, to live a simple life at Llanvelyn for the rest of his days. He was quite certain he only answered his father’s bidding to set matters to rights. And this time, Luc intended to see the seal of Llanvelyn safe within his own hand before he returned to his chosen home.
On principle alone, Luc was prepared to dislike everything about Tullymullagh, no less its spoiled princess. But the first sight of Tullymullagh’s high square tower awakened an unexpected admiration within Luc.
’Twas a feeling he would have preferred to be without, and it did naught to improve his mood.
But Tullymullagh—oblivious to Luc’s desires—remained perfectly nestled in the green hills of the valley. A river wrapped around its curtain wall, as though the keep were one with the land and had always been there. The tall tower stretched to the sky as though it would etch the clouds with the cross on its summit. The mist was rising from the river, wreathing the walls in gossamer, and the sunlight, piercing through the mist like a spear, painted rainbows in the air.
Luc could not help but be impressed. He had seen many keeps in his days, he had called many his home, but he had never glimpsed the like of Tullymullagh.
As he eyed the majesty of the keep, Luc became aware of the simplicity of his own garb, his lack of retinue, the humbleness of his steed. Luc had no sword, no mail, no fine tabard upon his back.
For the first time in eleven years, Luc felt the absence of all he had cast aside.
But that was nonsense! He had made a choice and he would live with it! Luc scowled and dug his heels into his palfrey, refusing to think about the spurs that no longer adorned his heels.
This Tullymullagh would show its weakness soon enough. Was its princess not a woman who could see no further than her own entertainment? Aye! What manner of woman would summon all to do her bidding on a matter of such ridiculous whimsy as marriage?
Luc snorted. Marriage, after all, was at the root of all of his father’s troubles. Three sons borne by three different women, all manner of difficulties throughout the years. Far too much trouble for a sensible man. Women were a delight, but Luc had seen enough to know that marriage was for fools.
Fools like Gavin Fitzgerald.
Nay, the sooner Luc found his misguided sire and obtained Llanvelyn’s seal, the sooner he could return to the simple life he knew he craved.
Time did not reveal the flaws Luc was certain Tullymullagh must hide. The high vaulted hall was simple, yet gracious; the richly embroidered tapestries hanging on the walls were beyond elegant. The stone fireplaces at either end of the hall were carved with marvelous skill, the linen adorning the dais table was rich.
Indeed, this tangible reminder of all he had abandoned made simple, charming Llanvelyn seem a paltry prize. Luc cursed his own traitorous thoughts and scanned the contents of the hall with disapproval.
There had to be some slight he could dislike.
Certainly, the lines of knights, even their squires and pages, were outfitted in fine fashion. Their armor gleamed, and their tabards were lavishly embroidered. Luc supposed they were all pledged to his sire’s hand, regardless of what loyalty they felt within their hearts. His sire, however foolish with women, was not one to be remiss in matters of such tactical import.
Just the thought of his father was a welcome reminder of how brutal the nobility could be, regardless of how fine their quarters. Luc, scanning the hall for some sign of Gavin, still did not see the man. ’Twas no coincidence that his sire avoided him thus far, Luc knew well enough.
Gavin would see his own desire fulfilled first. The nobility, after all, cared for themselves alone. Luc’s lips thinned.
If naught else, ’twas clear that if this Princess Brianna desired attention, she had gained her full measure on this day. Not only was the hall packed to capacity, but all were garbed in their richest finery. Damask gleamed on all sides, the lustre of silk shot through more than one garment, feathers bobbed and jewels flashed. Though Luc’s simple clothing was his best, it paled in comparison.
But he did not care.
He would not care.
Luc spotted the familiar crest of Montvieux and guessed that his brother would know Gavin’s whereabouts. As he strode across the hall, Luc noted that Burke had changed little over the years since last their paths had crossed. Broader of shoulder than he had been all those years past, with a few threads of silver at his temple, Burke had, if anything, grown yet more handsome.
Which was reassuring. This troublesome princess would not be able to resist Burke, Luc decided. She would take one look at the three of them and melt with desire for the noble, chivalrous, prosperous Burke. Then, Luc would settle the issue of Llanvelyn with Gavin and head home in short order.
To ensure the sheaves were stacked properly. Luc pushed that prospect of delight from his mind, and looked hopefully for his father’s shadow behind the favored son. He was only to be disappointed.
But Burke smiled and closed the distance between them, lithe grace in his every step. “Greetings, Luc, ’tis long since we have met.”
“Indeed.” Luc shook the proffered hand. His brother’s grip was sure, and he felt again that old admiration that Burke had steered his course well through waters Luc had chosen not to navigate. “How fares your dame, Margaux?”
“Well enough. And Llanvelyn?”
Luc nodded. “The season was a good one. Have you seen Gavin?”
“Not yet this day.” Burke turned his gaze, assessing as he glanced over Luc’s garb. “I could lend you a tabard, if you desire.”
Luc shook his head stubbornly. His linen shirt was clean, his green wool tabard and darker green hose were unadorned, but suited his life well. His leather boots were rougher than Burke’s, which doubtless had been fashioned in some Italian city, but were functional.
Even without spurs.
“There is no need,” Luc declined firmly, refusing to give any credence to a whisper in the back of his mind. “I am what I am. The woman might as well see as much.”
Burke smiled wryly. “And may the best man win her hand?”
“And may you win her hand,” Luc corrected, seeing no risk in letting his true feelings show. “And quickly, if you please. Llanvelyn awaits my return.”
Burke frowned. “I understood there was a steward there.”
“Pyrs died two years past.” Luc’s words were curt, the only sign of how deeply the old man’s passing had affected him.
Burke watched him for a long moment, but Luc frowned and looked again for his father.
“And you have no regrets in the choice you once made,” Burke finally commented, his idle tone not disguising his interest.
“I?” Luc shook his head and his words were emphatic. “Nary a one.”
A gleam of appreciation lit Burke’s eye. “Who would have imagined such a simple life would suit you?”
“It suited my mother and her family well enough.”
“Hmmm. So, here you stand, garbed like a farmer amidst wealth and privilege, untroubled by the disparity.” There was a note of mild wonder in Burke’s tone. “You are a nobler man than I, Luc Fitzgavin.”
Luc smiled. “I doubt that.”
Burke’s gaze was steady as he smiled slightly himself. “The most astonishing thing is that you begrudge me naught.”
Luc shrugged easily, never having seen any reason to be jealous of his brother’s many accomplishments. “We are different men, Burke, born of different women, raised in different ways. ’Tis only good sense that our lives should differ as well.”
“Once they did not,” Burke noted softly. Luc stiffened at the reminder and looked away, but Burke would not leave it be. “You could have won all I call my own by now, or perhaps more, if you had not given up your blade.” A lump rose in Luc’s throat but he kept his expression grim. “Luc, you have to know that your talent was rare,” Burke added.
“Perhaps.” Luc cleared his throat. “But ’twas not a life that suited me as well as it evidently does you.”
“Is that the truth?” Burke glanced away, dissatisfaction in the line of his lips. ’Twas not an expression Luc had seen upon Burke’s visage before, but a fanfare of trumpets sounded before he could ask after it.
The assembly turned as one to face the dais. Tullymullagh’s elderly steward appeared at Luc’s elbow, tsking under his breath. “Quickly, quickly! Over here, both of you. Now, where is the third? There must be a third!”
The steward clucked his tongue, anxiously eyeing the assembly. The crowd fell back behind the two brothers, just as that sought-after third man joined the pair, his russet hair gleaming.
Rowan. Luc flicked a curious glance to his youngest brother, as tall and handsome as ever. Luc was surprised to see that Rowan’s usual cavalier smile was lacking.
’Twas clear that Rowan was here against his own desire, as well. Luc’s lips thinned at the reminder, and he folded his arms across his chest at the inconvenience wreaked upon them all.
“There!” the steward crowed. “Now, come along, come along, we must not keep Princess Brianna waiting on this day of days.”
She could not wait, but they had been compelled to travel long and far to serve her will. The spoiled princess of Tullymullagh had indeed made all dance to her willful tune.
Luc imagined a sullen and demanding woman, pointing petulantly to all she desired and winning it each time. She was likely ancient and unable to make a fitting match in any way other than this frivolous game. Or pretty but with the wits of a stone, insistent that all made her the center of attention.
The center of attention she would evidently be on this day, at least. Luc folded his arms across his chest and impatiently waited out the moments until he could consult with his sire.
The minstrels plucked a tune and every head lifted in anticipation. A bevy of maidens burst into the hall, spilling flowers to the left and the right, their hair bedecked with ribbons. New garments for this very day, Luc concluded, disgusted with the cavalier waste of hard coin.
“The lady Brianna,” bellowed the steward, “Princess of Tullymullagh!”
With that, the most beautiful woman Luc had ever seen stepped through the portal into the hall. The princess smiled shyly as she descended the stairs from the solar. She stepped on to the dais with the grace of a swan, and Luc’s protesting thoughts screamed to a halt.
Luc stared, for he could have done naught else.
Brianna was the perfect, tiny fairy queen of Pyrs’ bedtime tales. Luc had never imagined that such beauty could exist outside of fanciful stories and was clutched with a desire so primal that it curled his toes.
Indeed, the admiration flooding through Luc put his response to Tullymullagh to shame.
Luc’s heart began to pound as he sought some flaw or hint that he had named her wrong. But nay. The lady Brianna’s face grew only more fair as he looked longer upon it. Her hands were as delicate as butterflies, her skin as creamy as new milk. Her smile was heart-wrenchingly innocent, her cheeks flushed slightly with attention of all fixed upon her. Her green surcoat was laced tightly at the sides and revealed her slender curves.
Luc could imagine her curled up to sleep in a flower bud all too readily.
She was not at all the woman he had anticipated.
Luc swallowed and reminded himself that this was the selfish woman who would make them all do her bidding. No doubt her temperament was an unattractive one and her heart as dark as her face was fair. She would be selfish and indulged, slow of intellect. This was not a woman given to conversation or likely even one who would permit her loveliness to be marred by the rigors of childbirth.
Even knowing that, Luc could not cease his staring.
“She is a beauty,” he whispered in wonder, without even meaning to do so.
“I suppose.” Burke shrugged with an indifference that Luc found hard to match. “But beauty is as beauty does.”
Aye, ’twas much Luc’s own conclusion and reassuring to have Burke give the thought voice. He glanced at his brother. “But you will still wed her when she chooses you?”
Burke flicked a telling look Luc’s way. “You presume much, Luc.”
“Do not be so modest, Burke.” Rowan’s murmured comment barely carried to their ears. “If she has not the wits to make a sensible choice, no doubt there are those who will make the decision for her.”
Rowan looked at Luc and that familiar roguish twinkle glinted in his dark eyes. “She will choose neither a farmer nor a bastard rogue, of that you may be certain,” the man continued. “Nay, Burke, ’twill be you burdened with the duty of deflowering this beauty.”
The very thought made Luc’s heart clench in a most unexpected manner. What was wrong with him? Women never had such an effect upon him. Had he caught some ague upon the ship?
That would be another inconvenience to lay at this lady’s feet. Luc’s lips thinned grimly, and he looked back to the perfection of the princess. To his own surprise, annoyance toward his brother Burke stirred to life within him for the very first time in all his days.
’Twould be Burke who would meet this beauty at the altar; Burke who would bed her; Burke who would look upon her lovely face for the rest of her days. It did not seem right that Burke did not appreciate her allure.
As Luc would have done.
That thought brought Luc up short. How could such senselessness invade his thoughts? He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the lovely noblewoman, deeming her responsible for addling his wits.
Brianna looked over to the brothers with open curiosity. She would not even glance at him, Luc well knew. Aye, she would weigh her choices by their outward appearance, caring naught for the inner man. ’Twould be Burke’s evident wealth and success that would draw her eye, Luc knew it.
What he did not know was why that troubled him so.
The lady looked at Rowan and smiled with a politeness that wrenched Luc’s heart. She looked at Burke and he was certain her gaze brightened with the surety of the choice she must make.
Then she glanced at Luc. A jolt ripped through him as their eyes met. Her full lips parted ever so slightly and Luc had the distinct sense that they were the only two in the hall.
And Brianna smiled, the gesture curving her lips as slowly as dawn slips over the horizon. Luc could not bring himself to look away.
’Twas suddenly cursedly warm.
Luc knew well enough that he was not a handsome man, though neither was he that hard upon the eyes. He was tall enough and his shoulders were broad enough, though his features lacked the chiseled perfection of Burke’s profile.
Indeed, Luc was possessed of a grand nose.
And a shock of white, white hair above his right brow. Pyrs had called it a mark of uncommon fortune; Gavin dismissed it as a curse. Otherwise Luc was dark of hair and blue of eye and not particularly distinctive to his own thinking. ’Twas clearly the oddities of his appearance that held the woman’s gaze.
Perhaps he should have accepted Burke’s offer of finer garb.
“Ladies and lords, damsels and knights,” Brianna began, her voice pitched lower than Luc had expected. ’Twas quite a pleasant voice, actually, and hinted at a cleverness unexpected.
The assembly applauded politely, but Luc could not move. Indeed, it seemed Brianna addressed him directly, though Luc could not imagine why.
’Twas Burke she would choose, after all. And he would be glad to see the matter resolved.
“I bid you welcome to the keep of Tullymullagh,” Brianna said with a minute nod at Luc. “And I hope the hospitality of the hall has not failed you.” She held his gaze for a long moment, as though inquiring after his own treatment and Luc found himself nodding ever so slightly.
Her smile broadened as though she were pleased and Luc’s heart skipped in a most unexpected way.
Aye, a chill from the ship. It could be no more than that.
“On this day, many have gathered in the hopes of witnessing a wedding, but I fear I must disappoint you all.” Brianna smiled into Luc’s eyes, a vision of feminine softness, as though inviting him alone to indulge her.
And he was sorely tempted to grant this princess whatever she desired. Luc scowled at his own gullibility. An agitated murmur rippled through the crowd and he belatedly understood the princess’ words.
“You were bidden to choose a spouse from my sons!” Gavin declared, stepping into view for the first time. The steward frowned, but Gavin shoved his way to Brianna’s side.
Luc was not surprised to see that his father’s rough manner had changed little. He took a half step forward, but the lady gave Gavin a quelling look.
“Which does not ensure the wedding be performed on this day,” she declared with resolve. She tossed back her veil, the move revealing the end of a blond braid, then fixed the trio of brothers with a bright glance.
And she looked again to Luc. His mouth went dry to be so singled out. “I will take no man to wed who has not proven himself to me,” Brianna declared. “As I know naught of the three of you beyond your pedigree—” her expression and quick glance to Gavin made her opinion of that clear “—I can only grant a fitting test of your suitability as spouse.”
The murmur became a growl as the assembly exchanged comments on this unforeseen development. They had come for a wedding and were to be cheated of it.
But Luc found himself surprisingly intrigued. Perhaps he had been too quick to condemn the lady’s intellect.
And that alone was most interesting.
Brianna raised her voice with determination over the rumbling, clearly not one to be cowed by dissent around her. “I challenge you each to go forth into the world and bring me a gift that will persuade me of the honor of your intent.”
A gift? Luc’s dawning estimation of the lady dropped like a rock falling from a cliff. Trust a spoiled woman to base her choice on the richness of gifts!
“A gift?” Gavin roared. “You cannot do this thing! You cannot change the arrangement!”
This time, Brianna’s glance was positively scathing. “I will not wed a stranger, especially one with no regard for me.” She pivoted to glare at the brothers anew, her words spoken with crisp authority. “I bid you bring me a gift that will make me laugh. He who makes me laugh loudest and longest, I shall willingly take as my husband.”
The crowd gasped as one, then broke out in excited chatter as the princess swept regally from the hall.
A gift to make her laugh?
Luc blinked in astonishment and his opinion of Brianna changed course yet again. ’Twas unexpected indeed.
Brianna was not the foolish woman Luc had expected, even if she was careless about interfering in the lives of others. Indeed, her request showed not only wit but a rare determination to affect her own fate. Few women would have been so bold as to make such a demand.
The last of Brianna’s maidens disappeared up the stairs just as Gavin came to life. “You cannot do this thing!” he raged.
A silver-haired man shook his head and stepped regally into Gavin’s path. “ ’Tis already done,” he said simply.
“I am the new Lord of Tullymullagh!” Gavin bellowed, launching into a characteristic tantrum. Rowan rolled his eyes. Gavin’s manner was in marked contrast to the composed and gracious man who opposed him. “I am in charge of this keep! And I demand that your daughter return to the hall. I command her to make her choice this very day from my three sons!”
The older man shook his head with quiet resolve. Indeed, a faint shadow of a smile lurked upon his lips. “My daughter will do no such thing.”
This then was the king Gavin had ousted.
“I shall compel her to do my will!” Gavin pushed past the former lord of the keep. The old king fell back against the wall, clearly surprised by Gavin’s forceful move, though his eyes blazed with anger. The steward swore and dove to steady his master, even while Gavin darted up the stairs.
Steward and former king glared disapproval as Gavin muttered unpleasantries. The last of the maidens looked back, squeaked and lunged skyward. She disappeared through the portal.
And the door closed behind her with a resounding slam.
Gavin fell upon the wrought iron handle just as there was a click of a bolt sliding home. The old king unsuccessfully tried to hide his smile, though the steward did not even try. Rowan chuckled outright.
Luc could not help but be amused himself by the lady’s foresight. ’Twas not often that anyone bested his sire. Indeed, ’twas not often that anyone even tried, for Gavin’s lust for vengeance over the smallest slight was renowned.
’Twas clear the lady Brianna did not guess the manner of foe she engaged. An unexpected protectiveness surged within Luc, but he shoved it aside, knowing such sentiment had no place here.
He was, after all, a knight no longer. Damsels in distress had best look elsewhere for their champions.
And, no doubt, this lovely lady’s champions were legion.
All the same, ’twas clear that though she might be willful, this noblewoman had much experience in seeing her own wishes rule the day. Luc glanced over the hall, intrigued at how many were caught in the snare of her desires.
But he would not join their numbers.
Indeed, her challenge had ensured that Luc be gone from Llanvelyn even longer than expected. Should Burke linger over this task, Luc might not be able to return home before the spring. The very sowing could be interrupted. Not one harvest but two could be jeopardized!
Curse the woman for her demand!
Gavin shook the handle of the door. “I demand admission to these chambers! I insist that the lady Brianna choose her spouse immediately!”
Gavin pounded on the heavy oak door to no avail as the whispers rose to a crescendo in the hall. Finally, Luc’s father turned to confront the sea of upturned faces, his face turned ruddy with embarrassment.
“She has locked the door,” he confessed unnecessarily.
“Aye,” the former king agreed without surprise. “And she will not descend before your agreement.”
A chuckle rippled through the assembly and Luc noted how many eyes shone with interest. Truly, they had witnessed more than expected on this day. Gavin stalked back down the stairs like an unhappy toddler and glared at the former king.
He looked over the assembly and his lips thinned before he confronted the old king anew. “I will wait her out! She cannot stay up there forever!” He pounded his fist into his other hand. “I will not permit this disrespect!”
“She can remain there for quite a while,” her father said mildly. “Brianna oft lays in provisions before staging such a feat.”
Gavin’s face turned yet more red. “This insolence is intolerable! Her deeds are a direct violation of King Henry’s will!”
His eyes narrowed dangerously and he took a step closer to the old king, his voice low with threat. “Perhaps hearing that her sire was in the dungeons would prompt the lady to change her mind.”
The old king inhaled sharply, but he had no chance to speak.
Burke cleared his throat and all looked at him as one. “The king did grant her the right to choose,” he commented smoothly.
Gavin glared at his prized son. For his part, Luc was amazed that Burke should encourage the lady’s whim.
Brianna had found an unlikely ally, indeed.
But Burke glanced mildly over the assembly. “And I remind you all that King Henry, after all, did not specify that Brianna make her choice on this very day.”
Luc blinked. Could it be that Burke truly did not want to wed this beautiful woman?
Gavin’s lip curled. “Do you then accept the whim of a mere woman as your command?”
Burke shrugged. “I see little harm in the lady’s test of character. Indeed, whoever wins her hand might well gain her heart as well.”
The old king beamed at this chivalrous sentiment. Luc watched his father noting this glance and saw that man’s mind change in a heartbeat.
“If Burke declares the challenge a just one, then the lady’s challenge will stand,” Gavin declared.
“To the quest!” the old king called with decided vigor.
“How good to know that you still can do no wrong,” Rowan murmured with no small measure of irony. Burke ignored the comment. It had always been thus between these two, but Luc bore Burke no ill will.
Indeed, he would not have wanted the burden of fulfilling Gavin’s lofty ambitions, a burden that Burke carried so effortlessly.
Hundreds of fists punched the air in that moment, the gathered souls stomped their feet and applauded their approval.
“To the quest for a bride!” they roared, no doubt delighted at the tale they would have to recount to others. Several minstrels already huddled together, one plucking a tentative tune on his lute.
“To the bride quest!”
The hall erupted into cheers, the assembly forming an avenue of their own accord for the brothers to depart. They began to chant, their eyes bright upon the brothers as they clapped together.
“The bride quest! The bride quest!”
Gavin fixed his sons with a stern eye. “Away with you, then!” he cried with a wave of his hand. “Search far and wide for a trinket to make the lady laugh!”
The chanting grew yet louder and Burke bowed low to both Brianna’s father and his own. Luc followed suit, though he noted Burke’s easy grace with unfamiliar envy. Luc even began to consider what might tempt the lady to laugh before he caught himself.
Marriage was not on his agenda, after all, no matter how clever or lovely the lady Brianna might be.
Aye, the sooner Burke returned with his prize, the better to Luc’s mind. He forced himself to think of crops and harvests and matters of good sense—as dull as they were in comparison to a certain blade-bright princess—as the threesome strode through the cheering throng and out into the courtyard.
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.