Claire Delacroix Read Free Page A

promise of Tulley’s document dangled before him like a carrot before a sullen mule.
    Tulley leaned closer to press his case. “This document makes you legitimate,” he whispered. “This document wipes the taint of bastardy from your hide, Yves de Sant-Roux. Meet my price and it can be yours.”
    Legitimacy! There was something Yves had never thought he might call his own. No longer would those highborn guests of the count’s have reason to sneer at the birthright of the count’s marshal.
    The count consistently declared that he had selected Yves by that knight’s skill alone, but Yves knew that the disapproval must trouble his patron. This document would eliminate any shame Yves unintentionally brought upon the man who had granted him so much.
    Tulley straightened, a smile playing over his lips with the certainty that he had successfully cornered his prey. “All you have to do,” he continued mildly, “is retrieve Perricault from Philip de Trevaine.”
    Suddenly, Yves realized that Tulley had had this document for the better part of his own life and not revealed its presence until now. Tulley had been content to leave Yves twisting in the winds of fortune until it suited the old cur to reveal what he had.
    Wily Tulley, after all, only played to his own advantage.
    Who could say what other scheme Tulley had in mind?
    Would the old lord continue to change the conditions necessary to win the document?
    And what precisely did the document say? Was it even genuine? For all Yves knew, Tulley might have another document hidden away that repudiated this one!
    One thing was clear—once Yves stepped into the Lord de Tulley’s web, he would never break free of the old man’s will. The tangle would grow tighter and tighter, leaving him as soundly trussed as a fly who ventured unwittingly into a spider’s web.
    No, Yves would not venture back into the quagmire of the past simply to serve Tulley’s ends. This mission smacked of whimsy, of the decisions made by men on virtue of emotion alone, decisions oft doomed to failure. Yves was a knight possessed of too much good sense to take Tulley’s bait.
    Yves set the cup of wine aside deliberately and rose slowly to his feet. Tulley’s eyes were bright with the certainty of victory and his smile broadened.
    “I refuse your offer.”
    Tulley’s jaw dropped and he gaped at Yves. “What is this?”
    Yves folded his arms across his chest. “I respectfully decline.”
    “But, but…” Tulley sputtered in outrage. “You must want legitimacy! What thinking man would not?”
    Yves shook his head. “Not at your price.”
    “This is madness!” Tulley flung out his hands. “I had understood that you were a man with your wits about you!”
    “All the more reason not to accept a fool’s errand for uncertain reward.”
    Tulley glared at Yves, his breathing labored and the first hint of color staining his pallid cheeks. He straightened and jabbed the cane through the air so that it very nearly hit Yves in the chest.
    “Insolent bastard! I should have expected no less.” Tulley’seyes narrowed and his voice was no more than a rasp. “I shall see that you regret this.”
    He waited, but Yves unflinchingly returned his stare. What could the old lord do to him? Yves was outside the realm of Tulley’s power. Yves caught a fleeting glimpse of the realization of that truth in Tulley’s bright eyes.
    Then, with a snort of dissatisfaction, the old man spun and hobbled from the tent. His voice raised imperially outside, sounding much more petulant than it had earlier.
    “Didier! We leave this place with all haste! Didier! Get yourself to my side now! ”
    Long after Yves had calmly topped up his cup of wine and returned to his stool, the ghost of Annelise lingered in his mind Silence filled the tent, the sounds from the field so muted they seemed to carry from another world. Yves tried again to push the past into the locked corner of his mind where it belonged.
    Annelise was dead.