TAKING SWEET RISK
The next morning, Francis was impatient with nerves. He couldn't quite believe he'd agreed to do this. How could he!
If he was caught visiting Claudine in her chambers, well...disgrace would be the least of what would happen to him. Not just for him, either. What would happen to her didn't bear thinking about. Her reputation would be ruined, her prospects finished.
“I must be insane.”
“What's that?”
Gaspard spoke from behind him, making him jump.
Francis put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart thump. “Oh! Gaspard. You...” he shook his head, running out of suitable expletives. “You scared me.”
Gaspard chuckled. “I'm sorry. You must be jumpy. Slept badly?”
Francis gave him a dirty look. “What do you think?” He felt tired and awful and he was sure he looked it, too.
“I think you were awake tossing and turning about the prospect of a certain lady. Especially about what you're going to do now that you're heading home tomorrow.”
Francis felt his jaw clench with impatience. Curse the man for guessing so accurately! Hearing it spoken aloud didn't make it seem any less foolish.
“Yes. That's right. Go ahead. Tell me I'm a fool, why don't you?” he sighed, feeling bitter. All Gaspard's praise of how well-bred and well thought of Lady Claudine was didn't exactly help matters either.
Gaspard stepped in front of him. “You're not a fool.” His brown eyes were level and serious. “Why on earth would you think that?”
Francis sighed. “It's just...it's hopeless, isn't it? Why would a girl like her want a freckly foreigner like me?”
That was the heart of his dilemma.
Gaspard stared at him. Then he laughed. “You're joking, surely.”
Francis wanted to hit him suddenly. He clenched his fists and jaw. “No, Gaspard. Why?”
“Because you must be a fool, if you think that. You have everything! Looks, wits, skills...for goodness' sakes, Francis. Why do you think the older duchesses and countesses want you to meet their daughters and nieces and protégés? Because you have freckles? Wake up!”
Francis stared at him. He couldn't have been more shocked at that moment if Gaspard had actually hit him. “You mean..?”
Gaspard chuckled. “For a man whose praises I just sang so highly, you have a head like a marble floor sometimes, Francis. Yes. I mean it. You're a man in demand around here.”
Francis still stared at him. He shook his head. Then he grinned. “You mean it?”
Gaspard smiled. He gave his shoulder a brotherly shove. “Yes, I mean it. You silly man. Come on. Have you had breakfast yet?”
Francis shook his head.
Gaspard sighed. “I thought not. Well, come on then. I don't think mooning about in the armory will help anyone very much.”
Francis laughed. “Thanks,” he said.
Inside, he could still feel a sweet glow in his heart. He hadn't even considered that he was a promising marriage prospect before. Since Lady Claudine's uncle had been so dismissive, he had considered it even less.
Maybe Gaspard was right. Maybe her uncle had some other objection besides his obvious foreignness and lack of status. It was worth considering. His attitude toward his niece is still strange.
How the two problems fit together, Francis had no idea. He just had the feeling that they did.
The hall was full of knights at the benches, and some lords sat at the higher bench, apparently planning a ride in the local woodlands. Francis listened to snatches of their conversation.
“Be sure to bring back something for Mirabelle,” one of them said with a skewed grin. “She'll have your head else. Sharp-tongued, she is.”
Someone chuckled. “I wouldn't dare do otherwise.”
Francis smiled to himself. At the thought of impressing ladies, a feeling of delicious apprehension went through him. He was at once pleased about, and terrified of, the prospect of seeing Claudine later today.
Visit at six of the clock. Her uncle will be at the audience with the king then.
He still couldn't quite believe he was going to do this.
* * *
Claudine walked to the door, wondering why Bernadette was acting in such a flustered way.
“Go now, my lady. We want to be back by half an hour past five,” Bernadette said. Claudine turned and frowned at her.
“Why, Bernadette? There's no hurry. Unless you think like Uncle does? That I'm so slow?” She spat the words, heart full of hurt. Bernadette was her friend! How could she think that too?
Bernadette closed her eyes, pained. “I'm sorry, Claudine. I would never mean that. I...I can't tell you why we must hurry, but I can explain later. Will that do?”
What has changed her? In all the years she'd known Bernadette, Claudine had never known her to be secretive before. “I suppose I have to agree with that,” she said softly. “I don't like it, mind. Cannot you tell me?”
“My lady? Please?” Bernadette frowned. “Trust me?”
Claudine winced. Of all the things in her life she found hard, trusting was one of the hardest. Her own father had broken her trust when he'd decided he'd turn his back on her, abandoning her. How could she trust anyone after that? She sighed.
“I'll try.”
“Thank you.”
Claudine followed Bernadette down the hallway. They headed to the solar, where Lady Cornelia had organized ladies to take a turn at embroidering the altar cloths for the Cathedral. Claudine felt a genuine pleasure at that thought as she was an excellent embroiderer, and had been praised in the past. Were it not for Bernadette's strange impatience, she would have felt genuinely happy today. As it was, she was worried.
Claudine paused at the door to catch her breath. Wretched malady! She closed her eyes, feeling her impatience dissolve as she stepped into the room.
“Lady Claudine,” Lady Cornelia smiled. A regal lady dressed in white linen with a headdress covering her hair, she had a sweet, kind face. She smelled of rosewater and lavender, and Claudine felt her anger and impatience melt a little.
“Lady Cornelia.” She gave the woman a curtsy.
“I'm so pleased you're here,” the lady continued. “I was just thinking, now, where is that young lady with the fine eyes and nimble fingers? You are most welcome, Claudine.”
Claudine felt her face flush pink with praise and she took a seat beside another lady on the settee. Bernadette followed her in.
“Ah. Bernadette, yes? Welcome, also,” Lady Cornelia said absently.
Claudine was angry that Bernadette was always sidelined, even though it was to be expected. She's like a sister to me, not a maid. She was certainly more companion than the other young ladies were. Just a glance about the room let her eyes alight on Berthe and Luella, both a pair of spiteful cats.
As she took up her needle, she felt her tension and anger dissolve. Fine lacy stitches of white on white, flowers embroidered around little cutouts that made their centers, the work around the border was subtle and magnificent. She could see a few places where it had been rushed or the stitches had been formed badly and she frowned. She could add to those.
After an hour had passed, she felt Bernadette appear at her elbow.
“Mm?” She asked as her friend touched her arm. She looked up dreamily, busy threading a needle. “What is it?”
“My lady? It's almost half past five of the clock. We should go.”
Claudine felt disappointed and a little impatient again. While the other ladies gave her jealous glances – most of them seemed to hate stitching and do it only as a reason to gather together here and chat – she herself was sad to end. She frowned at Bernadette, but she remembered the injunction earlier. Trust me.
“Lady Cornelia?”
“Yes, my dear?” Lady Cornelia looked up with kind slate-dark eyes. “Can I help you? You need another color thread?”
Claudine smiled. “No. As much as I don't want to, it seems I have to go.”
Lady Cornelia frowned. “Well, if you must, my dear. But I hope to see you back. Look, ladies! Look how fine those stitches are. Ah, Claudine! If only we all had your nimbleness.”
Claudine looked at her hands, feeling shy. “Thank you, my lady.”
She could already hear mutinous murmurings as some of the ladies took offense at her work being singled out. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone made some barbed comment about her work – inevitably involving her disability. She hurried out of the sweet-scented, sunlit room, going as fast as she could before they started.
They sped up the hallway and she leaned against the wall a moment to get her breath back.
“Bernadette,” she whispered. “Can you please tell me...what's all this about?” Why did her head have to ache like this? She could scarcely see straight! She focused on Bernadette's face firmly.
Bernadette looked round, eyes darting back and forth nervously. “Not yet, milady...please?”
Claudine sighed. “If you insist.”
They waited a moment while she got her breath back. Then they headed upstairs to her chambers, Bernadette with a furtive air, looking down hallways, speeding ahead. When they were in there, Claudine leaned against the door and face Bernadette.
“Right. Now. The truth. Please, Bernadette? I have the right to know.”
Bernadette sighed. “Very well. Only let me do your hair first, my lady? And mayhap change your gown? Perhaps the pink one. It becomes you so well.” She seemed to be filled with some kind of urgency.
Claudine shook her head impatiently. “The pink gown? Why would I change gowns? We're staying here tonight! Uncle has an audience, does he not? Please, Bernadette?”
Bernadette sighed. “Trust me, milady?”
Claudine felt her patience fray slightly more. “I'm doing my best, Bernadette. But trust needs honesty. Not secrets. Tell me?”
Bernadette sighed. “Just put on the gown?”
Claudine rolled her eyes.
“If you insist,” she said.
“Yes, milady.” Bernadette said. Then she smiled. “I'm sorry, milady. But you do have a vicious scowl for such a beautiful woman.”
Claudine wanted to stay angry, but Bernadette was laughing so much that she couldn't help but to join in.
“Oh, Bernadette,” she sighed. “You are a good friend.”
They worked together to help her out of the cream gown and into the pink.
“Right,” Claudine said firmly as Bernadette stood behind her, ready to brush her hair. “Now, what is this all about? Tell me?”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Claudine looked at Bernadette's reflected face, feeling tense with shock. Who would it be? Uncle had to be in the audience chamber! It surely wasn't him..? If not him, who was it then? She felt her heart thump with nerves, made all the worse by Bernadette's blank stare.
“Oh, heavens,” Bernadette whispered. “Be calm. Be calm...”
Claudine turned round. “Bernadette! What on..?”However, Bernadette was already opening the door. Claudine stood, feeling her heart thump with fright. Had Bernadette lost her senses? Who was she...Oh!
“Lord Francis?”
He was there. Tall and strong and handsome, dressed in a loose tunic and cream trousers and with his reddish hair a little longer than when they'd met. He stared at her. She stared back.
Claudine felt her whole body turn red with a big blush. He was here. In her bedchamber? How could...
Her thoughts stopped altogether as he swept a bow so low his hand brushed the stone floor.
“Lady Claudine.”
When he looked up again, Claudine noticed he looked, if anything, more discomforted than her. His eyes were shining and he'd turned crimson. She could see the slight traces of freckles on the dark red of his face. Strangely, his acute discomfort made her feel somewhat calmer.
“My lord. Uh...what are you doing here?” She asked. Her heart thumped below the tight-fitted bodice of her gown.
“I had to see you,” he said. His voice was tight in his throat. “I...I'm going away tomorrow, Lady Claudine. And I could not leave without saying goodbye.”
Claudine stared at him. She felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her. He was leaving. How could he leave? He had only just become part of her life! Her tension and excitement at seeing him gave way to sadness.
She sat down heavily on the bed.
“My lady?” He cast a look at her.
Claudine blinked, amazed by how sad she was. “You did say you were leaving in a week,” she said softly. It was as much to reassure herself as anything else. She swallowed hard, feeling her throat close with sudden tears.
“I know,” Francis said. He seemed as miserable as her. “I wish, now, that I wasn't going. But I have to. My family...” he trailed off wearily.
Claudine sighed. “I know. I understand. But...I shall miss you.”
She managed to say it, though the words tore through her throat and her eyes really did fill with tears. She sniffed, feeling stupid. How could she feel this way? She'd known him a week. She'd known her father for eighteen years and she'd cried less when she realized he'd turned away. Then, Francis has shown me more genuine care in a week than most people have in half a lifetime.
He was a friend.
“Claudine,” he murmured.
To her astonishment, he knelt down at the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his. He looked up at her imploringly. Then he kissed her fingertips, his lips moist and warm on the ends of her fingers.
Claudine felt a shiver of excitement go through her body. She bit her lip, trying to map out the complex and wonderful feelings inside her. She could feel her belly tingle and her toes were tingling too, as if her blood pulsed faster through her body. Her face was flushed and her hands shivered a little as he reached up and then, to her total amazement, sat down beside her on the bed and kissed her.
Her heart stopped as his arms clasped round her. She felt herself drawn to his chest and at first she tried to struggle, feeling as if it was wrong, this indescribable intimacy. Then she gave up as the warmth suffused her body and his tongue pushed into her mouth and she gave herself up to his embrace.
He kissed her passionately and then withdrew. She could see he was red-faced and his breathing was labored – he looked as overcome as she felt. She leaned forward on her elbows, sighing. She felt drained as well as elated.
“Francis,” she whispered.
He smiled, a soft smile. His hand covered hers.
She tensed as she felt his finger brush against her thigh, the tip of it tickling and tracing against her leg through the thin silk of her gown. It felt warm and tickling and the sweet intensity of his touch flowed through her as he stroked her skin gently.
“Sorry,” he murmured. His voice was ragged. She realized she had been sitting with her eyes shut, reveling in the feelings coursing inside her.
She shook her head. “Don't be sorry,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “I should be. I take liberties.”
She blushed. “I should say sorry for not stopping you.”
That let him smile. A fleeting, sudden grin, the smile made her toes tingle and her heart race.
“Oh, Claudine,” he said.
Gently, hesitantly, she let her fingers reach up and squeeze his hand. She had never actually initiated something even so innocent as holding hands with a man. The delicious thrill it sent through her surprised her.
He smiled. His fingers looked through hers and he lifted her hand to his lips, gently kissing the back of it.
Claudine sighed. Every indentation of his fingers on her hand, every touch of his lips on her knuckle, made her whole body thump. She leaned closer and her shoulder brushed against his. He let go of her hand and she tensed, about to move away. He wrapped his arm around her.
Claudine closed her eyes. Gently, she rested her head on his shoulder like a kitten seeking care. He stroked her arm.
They sat like that a long while. She couldn't recall a time when she had felt more comforted, safer. His muscled shoulder against her made her feel protected, like he could fight anything to save her, even the malaise which plagued her days.
“Oh, Claudine,” he sighed.
She let her arm hold him close and looked up into his face. “I wish we didn't...that I wasn't...”
She knew she was going to cry and looked up at the ceiling. Her tears ran down onto her cheeks and she blinked rapidly, trying to stop them.
She felt his lips on her cheek and then his thumb, stroking down her face. She realized he was stopping her tears. Her heart melted. She opened her eyes. Looked into his.
“You have such beautiful coloring,” she murmured. It was a silly thing, she supposed, but the red of his hair and the pale color of his eyes, like the color of lakes under cloud – green and reflecting, gray-washed – was so appealing. She reached up and stroked his hair.
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.