Claire Delacroix Read Free Page B

your father would not have it. Who was to know that your mother would bear a worthy child?”
    Bayard knew this was not strictly true - his father had refused to spurn his love at Margaux’s bidding and she had taken the promise of Montvieux from him in an effort to force him to her will. When Burke had wed his lady love despite the price, for the sake of pride, Margaux had had no choice but to be true to her own pledge.
    Indeed, Bayard’s hopes relied upon Margaux’s dissatisfaction with that outcome. He waited, as all hunters wait, for the moment of opportunity.
    She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “And now you would ask of me what he has spurned.”
    “I am the eldest of your blood grandsons.”
    “And you are the most like mine own father. The blood runs true in your veins. Perhaps that is an omen that the legacy belongs in your hands.” She tilted her head suddenly. “But perhaps I should prefer greater proof of your desire than a fine new coat of mail.”
    Bayard frowned, but his grandmother conjured a scroll of vellum, then fairly threw it at him. ’Twas hung with wax seals and ribbons, and clearly a pronouncement of some kind.
    To his astonishment, ’twas an invitation.
     
    Greetings to Burke, lord of Villonne, & Alys his lady wife, once of Kiltorren; to Luc of Llanvelyn & his lady wife Brianna of Tullymullagh; to Rowan, Lord of Montvieux & his lady wife Bronwyn of Ballyroyal. May the blessings of good health and God’s favor be upon all of the brothers Fitzgavin and their children.
    Your sons are cordially invited to partake in a contest for the hand of our daughter Esmeraude, held in the tradition of your own Bride Quest, launched some twenty-three years ago from Tullymullagh Castle in Ireland. Those sons of whom we speak are Bayard of Villonne, Amaury of Villonne, Connor of Tullymullagh, and Nicholas of Montvieux.
    Esmeraude is twenty summers of age, innocent, and well known for her wit and beauty. In addition to the prize of the lady’s hand itself, there is a dowry to be won, including the title of Ceinn-beithe itself, now a prosperous estate in addition to being of much traditional value. Esmeraude will decree both the terms of competition and declare the winner of her heart.
    We request that all men who would compete gather here at Ceinn-beithe on or before the first of May of this year, and welcome their families to enjoy our hospitality.
    May this missive find you well -
    Duncan MacLaren, chieftain of Clan MacQuarrie, defender of Ceinn-beithe
    & Lady Eglantine, formerly of Crevy-sur-Seine and Arnelaine
    Dated February 20, in the year of Our Lord 1194
     
    Margaux leaned forward and tapped a gnarled finger upon the coverlet. “Your father declined my advice in matters of marriage and defied my will in wedding unsuitably. Whomsoever I endow with the sole prize I possess will obey my will.”
    Bayard blinked, surprised despite himself by this test. “You will grant me Montvieux if I wed this maiden?”
    “You must win her. ’Tis both a quest and a test.”
    “But why this damsel?”
    “Because you must defeat your own cousins to prove your obedience to me. Because her lineage is adequate, because she may not be readily won with so many suitors competing for her hand.”
    Bayard handed back the scroll, its contents already committed to memory, then met Margaux’s gaze steadily. “You would be unwise to doubt me in this,” he counseled. “’Tis my habit to win.”
    She smiled coyly, clearly believing that she had turned him to her own will. “Then you will have need of a fitting weapon for such an adventure. In the chapel of Montvieux, there is a staircase hidden beside the altar.”
    “’Tis not hidden so well as that. I recall it.”
    “Aye and did you ever descend it?”
    “It leads to the crypt.”
    Margaux leaned forward. “Seven forebears lie there in eternal slumber, most recently mine own father. Go there, to the father of his father, the third sarcophagus. ’Tis said that