Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)(27)

“Well,” Gaspard said at length. “I think in that case, a gentle approach would work. Wait until the friend has done something obvious. Then gently tell your friend. He'll surely see it?” he asked.

Francis frowned. “I don't know if she'll be pleased with me for telling her.”

“Ah.” Gaspard frowned again. “She's a female friend?”

“Mm,” Francis drained his glass, feeling a bit impatient. “What's it matter?” Why would it make any difference? The circumstances are the same.

Gaspard shrugged. “Doesn't, really. Just curious. My advice still stands – just point it out to her gently. She'll see it eventually.”

“I hope so,” Francis said.

They sat quietly for a while and he found himself thinking back over the times he'd seen Lady Claudine with her uncle. The same times as he'd seen her in total, almost. That of itself was worrisome. Why was he always there? Why didn't Claudine go abroad with her maidservant more often? Was he trying to scare away her suitors?

Oh, come off it, Francis, Why would he? He would want her to settle down.

“What's wrong?” Gaspard asked.

“Nothing,” Francis said. “Just trying to figure out why her...friend...is always there around her. And why she insists on making my lady feel inadequate?”

That was the worst thing about her uncle: he seemed always to be emphasizing Claudine's inadequacies. Why did he emphasize her disability? It wasn't as restrictive as he made it seem. And even if it was, it certainly wasn't a reason for him to make Claudine feel worthless!

“Her friend feels inadequate to her, perhaps?”

“I don't think so, no,” Francis observed. That seemed unlikely. Why then? He was certain her uncle didn't really believe the things he told her. It's no more damning than my having red hair. Just something that makes her different to everyone else.

“You did a good side-stroke this afternoon,” Gaspard said languidly, interrupting Francis' thoughts.

“Uh? Oh. Thanks,” he said.

Gaspard chuckled. “You're miles away, friend. This girl is on your mind, clearly.”

Francis made a face. “You noticed.”

“Francis. I've never seen you like this,” Gaspard said. “More ale?”

Francis shook his head mutely. The ale he'd drunk was already making his head swim. He wasn't ready to find out what more would do. He wanted a clear head.

“Well, then. I'll have some more.” Gaspard poured himself another glass and looked at it, eyes bleary. “Now. What is it about this lady that's overwhelmed you so, eh? Beauty?”

Francis grinned despite his best effort not to. “Yes,” he said. “Well, not just that. Of course. It's...everything about her, Gaspard. Her face and body are...indescribably lovely. But it's not that. It's her smile...her sweetness. She's just the most enchanting person.”

Gaspard laughed. “My goodness. You have it worse than I have for Lady Eugenia.”

Francis stared at him. “Lady Eugenia?”

Gaspard nodded. “Daughter of the count of Bretagne. Have you seen her?”

“No,” Francis said.

Gaspard sighed wistfully. “Well, I recommend it. Or not. I don't want everyone to be as love-struck as I am.”

Francis chuckled. “I won't be love-struck for Eugenia,” he said. “Though I am already suffering that sickness.”

“I noticed,” Gaspard said mildly. “Cheers.”

They clinked their tankards together solemnly. After a while, Gaspard looked up, frowning.

“How far are you in courting her?”

Francis let out a long breath. “We practically just met,” he explained.

“You've kissed already?”

Francis went red but said nothing. Gaspard chuckled.

“I take it that's a yes,” he said.

Francis sighed. “Yes. It's...Gaspard, I want her more than I've ever wanted anything before. It's...it's a madness in me.” Even just talking about it made his loins hurt.

“But?” Gaspard asked. “What's the problem, eh? Your family?”

“No,” Francis said, surprised he'd suggest such a thing. “My family doesn't know yet and, in any case, even if they did, they'd approve of her. It's...well, a lot of things. Her uncle, her family...” he trailed off, huffing out his cheeks in a long sigh.

Gaspard laughed. “Sounds like you're in a tricky situation, friend.”

“Uh huh,” Francis agreed dolorously.

“Well,” Gaspard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, thumping the tankard down onto the table. “When I'm in a tricky situation, what I usually do is work my way through one little piece at a time. What can you do first?”

Francis frowned. “I...I guess I need to know if I'm right. About her friend, I mean.”

“Someone making her mistrust you?”

“Not exactly,” Francis said. “It's more like...the person making her so scared she doesn't want to talk to me, or think I'd be interested.”Gaspard raised a brow. “That's quite a manipulating friend. Why would they?”

“I don't know. That's why I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I'm right,” he said.