Bride Of Trouville. Lyn Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ he used it only to enhance his dry witticisms.

      “Yes, that would be best, I believe.”

      She sobered a little, determined to match his worldly nonchalance. “Ah. Well, that would explain our day-long betrothal and hasty marriage, should anyone care to question it.”

      He nodded and shook a forefinger at her. “That, too! Good thinking. But no, I mean that you should love me. Sincerely.”

      Anne bit her lips together, trying to stifle any further laughter. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before speaking. “Love you. I see. An unusual idea. Why on earth would you want me to do that, I wonder?”

      The comte shrugged and held out his hands palms up. “I think it would bode well for our happiness. Would you rather hate me?”

      She swept past him to pace the room, uncertain what to say next This sort of exchange was new to her. “Well, of course I would not hate you! But be reasonable, my lord—Edouard—I hardly know you yet! Are you so imminently lovable, that you assume I will—”

      “Oh, I shall be quite lovable,” he interrupted with a sensuous half smile. “Though some might argue the fact, I do know how to be.”

      She did laugh then. “I daresay you do! What of me, then? Shall you love me as well? How do you know that I haven’t the blackest heart in Christendom, hmm?”

      He grinned full out and raised his brows. “Because I know the owner of that particular heart, my dearest, and she is not you! And to answer your question, yes, I shall love you.”

      Anne shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Well, love or nay, we’ll not lack for laughter, will we! What a notion, to wed for love. You do not strike me as particularly sentimental. Tell me, when did you make this decision, to love and be loved? And by a wife, of all people?”

      He walked to the solar window and looked out, his back to her. “I suppose I should say it was the moment I beheld your sweet person. But, in truth, I have thought on it for years. Would it not be unique?”

      That it would, Anne admitted. But it would hardly matter one way or the other, if the two people concerned were living apart in different countries. Then again, that might be the only way such a love would survive. That must be his reasoning as well.

      It did occur to her that he might have put forth this offer of love to keep her faithful to him while he lived away from her. On that count, he need not worry in the least. She had no intention of engaging the attentions of any other man.

      “You are one who truly believes in love, then?” Though she asked the question playfully, Anne really wanted to know his thoughts on it, for she did not think the emotion existed between men and women, other than in songs and poems. It certainly had not existed within the realm of her experience.

      “Absolutely, and without question,” he answered readily, as he turned from the window. “I do know that many caution against combining love with marriage, but I have endured two marriages without it, and—”

      “And I have, one,” she added, interrupting him. “But if you never knew love, when did you decide yourself capable of loving?”

      “When I looked upon the face of my son after his birth. Did you not love yours?”

      “Aye, of course, above everything! But that is not the same thing, surely! Loving a child is not the same.”

      “Not at all the same,” he agreed. “But it does prove that a deeper feeling, that a caring for someone else more than oneself is entirely possible. I would like to feel that for a woman. For you. If you could return the favor and love me, likewise.” He brushed a hand over her cheek and she could not resist leaning into the caress.

      Then she looked up at him. “I think love is not given upon conditions such as that, my lord. One either loves, or one does not.”

      He tapped her nose with one finger. “We will make our own rules, you and L No unrequited love for us. You will love me, and I shall love you, all unreserved. I have decided.”

      The man was a little mad, or else he engaged in all of this foolery to make her laugh and lighten this cursory proposal of his.

      That sparkle of amusement in his eyes at the moment told her which it was. He was showing her the way of things within his exalted circle of acquaintances, no doubt. Country-bred she might be, but she had heard tales aplenty of how the more worldly nobles behaved. Bantering about love and such was considered a right wondrous pastime at court, so the traveling bards proclaimed. It had been so since the time of Queen Eleanor.

      What did it matter? He could prate on about it all he wanted. ’Twas pleasant enough debate, after all, and highly entertaining. Once he returned to France, he could regale all his friends at the court with tales of how smoothly he had wooed and won his Scottish wife, and then left her longing for him. What did she care, so long as he departed soon and let her be?

      If he wanted games for the two days he abided here, she would play. “Love, it is, then!” she said with her most elegant curtsy.

      “Shall we go and share our happy news with the others?” he asked.

      “With all haste,” Anne agreed.

      He placed her palm on his arm as they returned to the hall. And she smiled for all she was worth. Not for a sure place in paradise would she allow her Uncle Dairmid to think she had bowed to his threats out of fear, even though she had. Men pounced on fear, she knew that. “This is my choice,” her look told her uncle as clearly as words could have done.

      The trouble was, that in Dairmid Hume’s sublime fit of joy and copious felicitations, he did not seem to care one way or the other whose choice it was.

      Anne consoled herself that she had gained much more by this arrangement than her uncle. She would have a husband in absentia, no further dealings with Dairmid Hume as a guardian, and her son would remain with her. Aye, everything about the situation suited her at the moment. She could not have hoped for more.

      Now all she had to do was to keep Rob away from her uncle and the comte until they quit Baincroft and returned to France. Assuming that Robert would cooperate.

      That worry alone threatened her hard-won, and well-practiced composure. Her lad had a mind of his own and more pride than was practical.

      

      The next morning, Edouard woke in a happier mood than his usual. Sun streamed in through the arched window, its warmth mellowing the breeze that accompanied it. Even the weather welcomed him to this place. If he were superstitious, he might consider it a good omen. But his cynical nature warned him that Scotland’s weather was notoriously fickle, and so might be the lady. For now, he would give her the benefit of the doubt. Once wed, he would give her good cause to remain sunny, Edouard thought with a wry smile.

      Anne of Baincroft did not strike him as a guilt-riddled girl obsessed with the myth of original sin as Henri’s mother had been. Nor did she exhibit the hesitancy about marriage that his second wife had shown. If Anne loved another man as Helvise had done, she certainly concealed the fact well. Her words, expressions, and attitude indicated that she was exactly what she appeared to be, a bright and beautiful widow who welcomed a very advantageous match.

      Such natural beauty and grace proved more than he had hoped for at the outset. СКАЧАТЬ