Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)(36)

He smiled. His hand reached up and covered hers, then brought it to his lips.

Suddenly, Bernadette was in the room. “Right. Quick, you two! You have to move. Now. It's almost seven of the clock and we have to get you gone before he arrives.” She rolled her eyes.

Claudine would have giggled except the situation was suddenly deadly earnest. She stood and looked around. “Where will you go?”

“Out the back way,” Bernadette said, thinking quickly. “There's a door through from my bedchamber into the stairwell. Supposed to be used if I need to fetch anything from the kitchens.”

“Perfect!” Claudine said, feeling impressed. “Now, quickly.”

Francis looked at her, she looked at him, and suddenly, without thinking very much, she was opening her arms as he did and they embraced. His lips were fierce on hers and she parted her mouth to receive his probing tongue, hot, sweet, and passionate.

Then, almost as quickly, he was gone.

“Hide, hide!” Bernadette said.

Claudine caught her eye and ran to the outer door, quickly brushing her hair back from her face and gaining composure.

Bernadette and Francis disappeared out of the room.

Claudine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she heard a footfall on the stone flooring, she was sitting on the bed, looking at her hands. Her heart was empty.

“He's safely away,” Bernadette murmured.

“Whew,” she said. She had loved having him here and mourned its brevity. All the same, it had been dangerous and it was good, she told herself sternly, it was so brief.

She would never forget that – whatever happened.





CHAPTER TWELVE





A JOURNEY AND A PONDERING





A JOURNEY AND A PONDERING





The slow rise and fall of the horse's motion over the land lulled Francis half asleep. He was not surprised by that – he had slept badly that night and was woken early that morning to begin the ride back.

He looked around, forcing himself to stay awake. He could see the bright green of the hillsides and the way the grass waved in the breeze, dotted here and there with tiny yellow buttercups. He should have felt happy. Not so achingly sad. How could he feel anything else though?

I feel like I'm riding away without my heart.

He snorted. He knew it was silly. What would his father – practical and down-to-earth – think of the way he was behaving now? His parents had been betrothed since infancy. He would probably dismiss Francis' fancies as that – only fancies.

Well, they certainly hurt, for fancies.

He sighed. He recalled Gaspard's words to him a few nights ago, his encouragement. He didn't think it was stupid.

“It's not.” He surprised himself by saying it aloud, and looked round abruptly, to see if he'd disturbed his escort.

The palace had provided them with three guards, who'd taken them as far as the first milestone outside the city. However, here, in the countryside, his escort consisted of just one person: his man, Yves.

“Sir?” Yves called out, riding up.

Francis felt a little annoyed. He wanted time to be alone with his sorrows, not have Yves making a running commentary on how they'd be home in three days' time. All the same, he turned to face him. He was company, which was sorely needed out here. Too much thinking would drive him insane with worry for Claudine.

“Nothing, Yves,” he said sadly. “I was just looking back to see how far we'd gone.”

“Ah, yes. One has to take a last look, eh? Splendid place. Amazing.”

“It is,” Francis said softly. “I wish we'd stayed longer in it.”

“So do I, sir,” Yves agreed. “Well, you never know. Mayhap your father will have another petition to take before the king before long, eh?”

Francis sighed a little sadly. “Sadly not, Yves, sadly not.”

The older man shrugged. “You never know, eh, sir...And perhaps we could stir up some minor mischief – let the cattle cross the border into Malviers' land – and then we'd need to get new boundary assignments.”

Francis tipped back his head and laughed. How did Yves even think of these things? “I think, Yves,” he said with a slow grin, “that is a wonderful plan. We could spend our lives at court. Though if Malviers had anything to do with it, probably in a dungeon.”

Yves chuckled. “He's not so bad, sir. My grandfather worked at the Malvier's estate, you know, and never had a bad thing to report...”

Francis grinned and let him carry on about his grandfather and the Malvier's family, feeling his spirits lift. It was good to have some company on the road.

They reached Annecy two and a half days later. They arrived in the afternoon, the wind ruffling the grasses, the scent of dry earth and heat in the air. Francis breathed in, relishing the scents of summer and home.

As they had throughout the journey, his thoughts strayed to Claudine. Is she safe? How is her health? Has her uncle caused her any unhappiness? The more he thought about that man, the less he trusted him. He put far too much of his efforts into convincing Claudine she was useless.

His thoughts were shattered by Yves, waving his hat in the air and calling. “Margerie! Hello! Hello!”

Francis grinned as Yves' daughter ran to join them, the first of the household to see them. He looked away as the older man slid down from the saddle and tenderly embraced her.