Dreams of Lilacs

Chapter 19



Isabelle found herself exceptionally grateful for the quality of the steeds in her father’s stables and the amount of time her sire had taken to teach her to ride. That had allowed her the freedom to take choice of the offerings in Monsaert’s stables, though she had settled for a lesser animal than the one she’d brought from Nicholas’s stables. The stable lad she’d flipped three coins to and pressed into secrecy had only sighed when she’d promised him that her brother was waiting for her in the village, so she would certainly be safe on her own. The stablemaster had glanced at her, then made a serious study of the hayloft as she had snuck out right in front of him.

She could only hope that would be enough to keep the both of them from joining Coucy’s man who still lingered in the dungeon.

She supposed she was fortunate to have escaped Monsaert at all without a score of men trailing after her. The truth was, she hadn’t known what else to do. She had a knife and a very fast horse which meant she would at least gain the abbey in safety. What happened there was something she couldn’t control. For all she knew, if she didn’t arrive when summoned, something terrible would happen to her grandmother.

And her grandfather, whoever he might have been.

Whatever other failings her mount might have had, endurance was not one. He was willing to stay at a canter for long stretches and his trot was exceptionally enthusiastic. She had been forced to pause a time or two to catch her own breath—and that was something she would have to address at a future time—but supposed that merely a trio of hours had passed before she saw her grandmother’s abbey rising up before her in the distance. She looked around her to make certain there was no one lurking about with evil intent, but there seemed to be no ruffians in the area.

There was, however, a man riding her way in a tearing hurry.

Gervase de Seger, as it happened.

She would have kicked her mount into a gallop, but the truth was she had ridden him too far already that day and couldn’t bring herself to abuse him. Her only piece of good fortune was that the abbey was indeed close enough that she thought she might manage to at least gain the grounds before she was caught.

Gervase, on his own. That did not bode well for her.

She rode her horse for a bit longer, then she jumped down and ran.

“Isabelle, stop!” Gervase shouted.

She didn’t take the time to snort, but she supposed that would have been the only useful reaction. As if she would simply give up and give in! She looked over her shoulder to find that he had almost reached her. He reined his horse in, then jumped down from the saddle himself. She winced at his curse, then turned and fled. She couldn’t help his pain any more than she had already.

Either he had recovered almost instantly or he was impervious to nagging twinges in his form because she soon realized he was directly behind her.

“Isabelle,” he gasped, “stop.”

She whirled around, pulling his knife from her boot as she did so. She pointed the blade at him. “Don’t come any closer to me.”

He pulled up short and looked at her in such astonishment, she blinked. It crossed her mind that perhaps she had misjudged him, but nay, that wasn’t possible. He was following her, so what else was she to think?

“Do you think I would harm you?” he asked, sounding stunned.

She took a firmer grip on her blade. Well, his blade, but perhaps he wouldn’t notice. “You were following me.”

“Aye, to protect you!”

She lifted her chin. “Or to do me in.”

“Well,” he said, looking as if the admission pained him, “I did consider that, but not perhaps for the reasons you might think.”

“You will not find me an easy victim.”

He said no more, but simply leaned over with his hands on his thighs and drew in a dozen very ragged breaths. She was tempted to clunk him over the head as he was otherwise occupied, but the truth was, whilst his knife might have been beautifully crafted, it wasn’t enough to render him senseless. The best she could do was hold her ground.

He finally heaved himself upright, then put his hands on his hips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” she demanded. She looked at him standing there and felt her certainty fade a bit. He didn’t look like a man who wished her ill; he looked like a man who had ridden a fair distance in great haste to execute a rescue. She frowned. “Actually, I don’t know what to think.”

He slowly held up his hands. “I have no weapon, lady, as you can see.”

“You have a sword.”

He stared at her for a moment or two without moving, then slowly unbuckled his sword belt and tossed his blade at her. She caught it thanks to long years of doing just that, then set it on the ground behind her, never taking her gaze off him.

“You’re still very dangerous,” she pointed out.

He was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Isabelle, I was riding after you to keep you from doing something stupid and thereafter finding yourself dead in a ditch.”

She ignored the pleasure of hearing her name from a man she wasn’t related to. A handsome man, a very dangerous man, an extremely baffled man. She supposed that last bit gave her the upper hand, so there was no reason not to use that hand.

“Why does everyone think that when I’m riding off,” she said crisply, “that I’m doing something stupid?”

“Because you’re missing critical accoutrements necessary for the accomplishment of dastardly deeds.”

“And what would those be?”

He held up one finger. “Sword skill.”

She glared at him.

He held up two fingers. “Ruthless ability to kill when necessary.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed a little and reached out, presumably to pull her into his arms, then stopped. “Would you mind putting up your very fierce weapon there?”

She continued to point the blade at him. “How did you know where I’d gone?”

“I found that poor serving lad you tied up in your chamber,” he said, “which you should feel a great amount of guilt over. I don’t know that he’ll recover from the trauma. He had very few answers for me, but as I was looking at him trussed up like a fine goose, I remembered that you were terribly anxious to come visit your grandmother.”

She resheathed his knife down the side of her boot, then folded her arms over her chest and dredged up the sort of frown she thought might most closely resemble one of her father’s.

“Don’t think your charming smiles will win you my trust.”

He looked so genuinely surprised that she shifted.

“Well,” she said, “they won’t.”

“Isabelle,” he said in disbelief, “you can’t believe I would harm you.”

“You might not,” she said, then pointed behind him. “What of them? Are they yours?”

He looked over his shoulder and then turned. “Sword,” he barked.

She picked it up and put it into his hand, then watched him shake off the scabbard before he reached behind her with his left hand and pulled her up close behind him.

“Do not attempt anything heroic,” he said briskly over his shoulder.

“I have a knife—”

“Isabelle!”

“Well,” she muttered, “I do.”

He laughed, the lout. She would have poked him with his knife, but that seemed rather unsporting when he was putting himself between her and potential danger.


She put her hands on his back and waited to see if the tension would seep out of him or not. She attempted a quick peek around his shoulder and had a curse in return. She shook her head. He was so much like her father, which she supposed wasn’t a bad thing. Her father had a way of making the women in his care feel, well, cared for.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be useful. She lifted her foot up and pulled Gervase’s knife free with an unfortunately quite audible hiss.

He only sighed. “Incorrigible.”

“Just trying to be useful.”

“How can I argue with that?”

She realized abruptly that not only was he not arguing, he was not concerned. She felt the muscles in his back relax a bit more and realized that he was standing there, perfectly at ease.

“You’ve misled me,” she accused. “You weren’t worried.”

He turned around and smiled faintly. “Of course not. ’Tis simply my lads and your brother, Miles. Well, and Joscelin.” He shrugged. “It seemed a convenient way to distract you from stabbing me with my own blade.”

Isabelle scowled at him. “Rather unsporting of you, don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure we should be discussing sporting. After all, I’m the one who’s been chasing you for most of the morning, fearing with every hoofbeat that I would catch you up and find you dead. I believe I haven’t begun to repay you for my feelings of terror.”

She looked up at him seriously. “Is that what you were thinking?”

“Yes, Isabelle, that was what I was thinking. Why would I think anything else?”

She took a deep breath, but could say nothing.

“Why did you not wait for an escort?”

She wasn’t sure what she dared tell him, or if she dared tell him anything.

“No particular reason.”

The look he gave her was so reminiscent of something her father might have favored her with, she almost smiled. She would have, if she hadn’t been so terrified. He stabbed his sword into the ground, then put his arms around her and drew her close.

“Oh, there’ll be none of that,” Miles called.

“Not now, Miles,” Gervase said, glancing over his shoulder. “Purchase me a few minutes of peace and quiet with your sister, why don’t you?”

Isabelle watched the company move off out of earshot, then considered her position. She stood in Gervase’s arms and felt for the first time in weeks almost safe. She considered many things, not the least of which was that for someone who might want to kill everyone she loved, he didn’t seem to be in a rush to see to it.

“Can I trust you, I wonder,” she murmured.

“I haven’t given you very many reasons, have I?” he asked with a sigh.

“You guarded my door.”

“I guarded you.”

“Aye, well, that’s true,” she agreed.

He continued to drag his fingers through what was left of her hair. “I believe we must have serious speech together, my lady, about several things that puzzle me.”

“Must we?” she asked, attempting to sound as if she might not have time for such a thing.

“Why did you leave England, Isabelle?”

“I wanted an adventure.”

He pulled back far enough to look at her. The skepticism on his face almost made her smile. “Try again.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to give him the real reason, not yet. She pulled away from him. “I can’t say,” she said honestly.

“Why not?”

“There is a price attached to that sort of honesty,” she said quietly. “Might we walk, instead?”

He frowned thoughtfully, then reached over and picked up his scabbard. He resheathed his sword, belted it around his hips, then took his knife out of her hands. He very carefully resheathed it down the side of her boot, then straightened and clicked to his horse who seemed to sigh with a bit of regret over tasty grasses left unsampled. He did, however, amble over obediently. Gervase offered her his elbow.

“Let’s go.”

She took his arm, then walked for a bit before she looked at him. “Have you ever stood in the shadows and simply watched?”

He looked very briefly as if she’d elbowed him in the gut. He blew out his breath, then laughed a little. “What a question.”

She only continued to watch him. “Well?”

He glanced at her, then sighed. “I suppose I felt, on the occasional evening while my stepmother held court, that I wasn’t exactly welcome to participate.”

She’d heard the tale from his cook, so that didn’t surprise her. “That must have been difficult.”

He shrugged. “Cook was almost a score at that point, working under her father’s flashing spoon, yet she didn’t seem to mind an extra lad hanging about the kitchen.”

Isabelle smiled. “She’s inordinately fond of you, you know.”

“Anyone supping at my table over the past several days might disbelieve that,” he said with a snort. He shot her a look. “She was seriously displeased with your absence. I believe I am back in her good graces for the moment, but she has a fickle heart.”

Isabelle doubted that quite seriously. She considered what he’d said and what she already knew and grieved for him. Her youth had been the stuff of legends in comparison.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. “That your childhood was difficult.”

He shrugged. “I put away childish traumas years ago. I regret that I have not aided my brothers as I could have, but that is a discussion for another time when you have perhaps plied me with strong drink for the whole of an evening. Let’s turn to something more comfortable for me, which is examining your childhood more closely. What is this business of the shadows that drives you to take such terrible risks?”

“I love my family,” she said simply. “Even my siblings.”

“Who are pompous, overbearing, and far too impressed with themselves,” he mused, “save your sister, who I am sure is almost as flawless as you are.”

She smiled. “Flatterer.”

“I am scrupulously honest.”

“Save when you were pretending not to know who I was,” she said.

“I also have a finely honed instinct for self-preservation and a sense of altruism that is rarely matched in all of France,” he said with a smile.

“Which only means you feared my brother would slay you, but that doesn’t explain anything else.”

He slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers. “I didn’t want you to suffer a swoon from realizing too soon who you were. Again, very altruistic of me, wouldn’t you say?”

“I believe, Your Grace, that you are telling a falsehood.”

“Well, it isn’t as if I can admit to wanting to keep you captive in my hall a few more days, is it?” he grumbled. “And just so you know, I can understand wanting to be out of the shadows.”

“Unless you’re a woman.”

“There is that.” He shot her a glance. “You de Piaget women have strange and unwholesome ideas of independence.”

“Unlike your current queen regent who is with a fair amount of ruthlessness keeping a kingdom intact for her son.”

His mouth fell open, then he shut it and smiled. “You have me there.” He studied her for a handful of very uncomfortable moments. “Why do I have the feeling that this whole adventure was about more than simply escaping from the long shadows cast by your overbearing brothers?”


She looked around her to make certain there were no men within earshot. Miles, at least, was watching her whilst doing his best to seem as if he weren’t watching her. The rest of the lads were watching the countryside, which she appreciated. She took a deep breath, then looked at Gervase.

Green. His eyes were a pale green. They were truly a lovely color. More to the point, they were full of something that she had to believe was disbelief.

“I’m unnerved,” she admitted.

“That is, my lady, the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say. And in honor of that show of good sense, why don’t you tell me the rest of the tale?”

She took a deep breath, then stopped and turned to face him. “I was told I must come to France.”

He froze. “What?”

“A missive was delivered to me,” she said, “which said that if I didn’t come to France, my grandmother would die.” She supposed there was no need to speak of a grandfather she was sure she didn’t have. “I don’t have the note, of course, because Miles lost it,” she said. “Or, more particularly, dropped it and one of Nicky’s hounds tried to have it for supper. But Miles had read it in England.”

“A missive,” Gervase said, his voice completely without inflection. “What else did it say?”

“Not much more than that.”

He studied her. “And that is what sent you off on this ill-advised flight today?”

She hesitated, then pulled the rolled missive from her tunic. She supposed he would think what he would of it, so there was no sense in saying anything. She simply handed it to him and waited.

He took it carefully. “Where did you find this?”

“In your bed.”

His mouth had fallen open. He gaped at her a bit longer, then unrolled the missive. He gaped at it, then at her.

“You found this in my bed?”

She only nodded.

He looked at the note with distaste. “This isn’t in my hand.”

“Do you recognize it?” she asked carefully.

He shook his head. He rolled it up again and handed it back to her, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Someone, then, is either having us on, or using my hall for foul deeds.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I received something several days ago that warned me that I was most definitely still in the sights of someone who wished me ill.”

She frowned, then felt her mouth fall open at the way he was watching her so steadily. She pulled away from him and stepped back so quickly that she almost tripped over her own two feet.

“You can’t think I would be responsible.”

“The hand was very fair,” he said slowly, “but nay, I didn’t suspect you.”

“For very long,” she finished.

“Well, it would seem we are both guilty of coming to hasty conclusions.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I believe we would do well to seek out a safe place, then have speech together.”

“I’m not sure there is a safe place,” she said honestly. “The missive told me my entire family would be harmed if I didn’t come immediately to France. To Caours, if you want the entire truth.”

He looked at her in surprise. “And you came?”

“What else was I to do?” she asked defensively. “Allow her to be slain?”

“Send one of your intimidating brothers to guard your grandmother instead?” he suggested.

“The missive called for me to come.”

He drew her into his arms. She went, because there was something unwholesomely pleasant about his embrace. She put her hands on his chest, then turned her head and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He was just the right height for it to be a comfortable place to lay her head. That and his dragging his fingers through what was left of her hair was more enjoyable than she thought she might care to admit.

“I assume Lord Nicholas knows nothing of this,” he said finally.

“Of course not. He would have locked me in my bedchamber otherwise.”

“A pity Miles does not have his good sense.”

“I intimidate him.”

He laughed a little. “Aye, I imagine you do.”

“But I don’t intimidate you.”

He pulled back and gave her a look that had her cheeks beginning to burn. She couldn’t say she was overly acquainted with the ways of men and women, but she did have siblings and they did have mates. She’d seen that look before. Of course, she’d never seen it on any of the lads who had come courting her, but perhaps that was because they’d been too busy looking around her to see if her older sister was still available.

“I’m not sure that finds itself on the list of things you do to me,” he said solemnly, “which is probably a very good thing.” He exchanged a look with his captain, then put his arm around her shoulders and nodded toward the abbey. “Let’s get ourselves behind at least marginally sturdy walls, then we’ll put our heads together and see if we can’t unravel both these tangles.”

She nodded and ignored the look Miles gave her as he took the reins of Gervase’s horse along with his own. If Gervase wanted to keep her close whilst they walked, who was she to gainsay him?

At least they were safe enough for the moment with his guards and her brother fanning out around them. How much she had taken for granted, living in her father’s lovely hall on the edge of the sea, always being surrounded by men who would have gone to battle to protect her.

“Just so you know,” Gervase said casually, “that while I’m not in favor of your decision to come to France alone, I’m not opposed to the results of it, despite the blisters on your hands from your labors in my kitchens. And I understand why you did what you did. I hope you understand that from now on, I will be seeing to your problem.”

“Bossy thing, aren’t you?”

He smiled briefly. “Protective,” he corrected. “Though I’m not sure this is exactly the sort of place I would choose to be protective in.”

Isabelle had to admit that whilst the gates were not large, they did seem overly imposing for a locale supposedly unlikely to need a defense. She considered that for a moment or two, then realized Gervase was simply watching her. She looked at him and attempted a smile.

“Here we are,” she managed.

“Please leave the sword work to me,” he said very quietly.

“You’re robbing me of my chance to step out of the shadows,” she said lightly.

“You can investigate all you like—and I cannot believe I just heard myself say that—as long as you have a guardsman within sight. I would prefer that guardsman to be me.”

“Would you?” she asked wistfully. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“You’re overprotective of your brothers’ language tutors?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m protective of when your brother isn’t staring at me as if he’d like to use me as an ornament for that very sharp sword he seems to be considering drawing,” Gervase said dryly. He sobered. “Isabelle, I’m in earnest. I won’t stifle this very unsettling independence you’re displaying—” He paused, then rolled his eyes. “Very well, be as independent as you like. But please, please let me keep you safe.”

“You know, you can be very charming, when you want to be.”

“You haven’t begun to see charming,” he said grimly. “Here, in an abbey of all places.” He shot her a look. “You, Isabelle de Piaget, have me so turned about, I scarce recognize myself.”


“But you remember my name,” she said with a smile.

“Always.”

She walked with him up to the gates, listened to him talk their way inside, then continued on until they reached the abbey itself. She glanced at him as they paused to wait for his men to sort themselves.

“If you’d met me in another venue besides your kitchens, what would you have done?”

“I would have gaped at you from afar, miserable in the knowledge that I would never get closer to you than shouting distance, which would unfortunately mean that my bleating would be lost in the chorus of cries made by lads lauding your beauty and goodness.”

She looked at him in surprise, then laughed. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m quite serious—”

“Her hand only!” Miles bellowed.

Gervase blew his hair out of his eyes. “I’m going to kill him before the day is over.” He took her hand, merely bent over it without touching her, then straightened. His expression was very grave. “If I survive an interview with your sire, I would like to court you.”

She wondered how it was the weather in France could be so changeable. One moment she was freezing, the other she was burning up.

“Would you?” she managed.

“If the idea suits you.”

“I hadn’t even considered it,” she said frankly. “I was too busy wondering if you were the one trying to kill me.”

He tilted his head and smiled faintly. “Would you consider it now, do you think?”

“Would you teach me swordplay?”

“Absolutely not.”

She pursed her lips. “My brothers have taught their wives swordplay.”

“Your brothers are daft,” he said with a snort. He started to speak—no doubt to warm to his theme—then he looked at her and shut his mouth. He dragged his free hand through his hair. “I’ll consider it.”

“I’ve taken extensive notes over the years of my siblings’ activities.”

“I can only imagine,” he muttered. He shot Miles a warning look, then gathered her into his arms briefly. “I will,” he whispered against her ear, “consent to be led about however you will if you’ll simply agree to look at me twice.”

“You will not.”

“You might be surprised.”

“I might be convinced to look at you more than twice, then.”

He pulled back at the pointed clearing of more than one throat. “We must elude them at our earliest opportunity.”

“I’m fairly sure they have lists here.”

His mouth worked for a moment or two, then he bent his head and laughed a little. “If that is the price to be paid, I’ll pay it.” He took her hand. “Let’s find something to drink first and greet your grandmère, then we’ll see what else the day brings.”

She walked with him, though she couldn’t help but hope the day brought nothing more than pleasant conversation in her grandmother’s solar. No more missives, no more threats, no more reasons to look skeptically at those she loved. Unfortunately, that left her with a single question that she wasn’t sure she was all that eager to have an answer to.

If Gervase hadn’t written that missive and put it in his bed, who had?