to go through the pockets and found several loose gold coins within.
She smiled, slightly mollified that Lord Montayne had lost both his cloak and coins. His trick canceled any regret she might have about appropriating his property. He knew she was a liar but he had played along, taking her almost all the way to London. What would have happened when they arrived?
Yet she remembered his small acts of kindness. He had generously wrapped the cloak about her on both the cool ride of last night and again this morning as they walked after dismounting the horses. And, for a brief while, she felt so safe and secure in his arms as she rode atop Ebony.
Madeleine closed her eyes, imagining for the moment being enclosed again within Lord Montayne’s embrace. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her back, his arm tight about her, holding her near him. He smelled of soap and horses, his breath light and fresh in her ear. She had an immense longing to be back on Ebony with him, the sweet ache filling her.
Then Ashby’s voice popped into her head. Married to Lynnette rang in her ears, and Madeleine’s eyes flew open. That black-hearted lord was married, she thought bitterly. A sigh escaped her lips, breaking the morning quiet.
“As if I were not,” she mused aloud. It was interesting that the Earl of Montayne’s wife apparently made him as unhappy as Henri made her. “Could never be,” she murmured, fingering the pebble in her pocket, and continued down the road. Her heart, though, still ached at the waning memories of the dark, handsome devil.
*
Henri de Picassaret pushed the matted hair off his brow. He finally dared to open his eyes. Harsh light streamed through the dull windowpane. As often was the case upon awakening, his head felt ready to burst, as did his bladder. He struggled to sit up, the pounding in his head almost unbearable. He was in a foul mood. He’d lost in cards to his host, Lord Ancil. Didn’t the English have the decency to lose to a guest?
Henri massaged his temples lightly, hoping to still the roaring noise. He rose and shrieked for Bertrand. The man lurked behind every crack and cranny.
“You wish to dress, my lord?”
Henri let loose a stream of profanity, finally quieting when the thunder in his head became too loud to hear his own words. “Yes. Dress me, you fool. I must get to mass.”
Once there, he would feel better. He always did. Henri knew he was one of God’s chosen. By doing this daily duty to God, his Father honored him with riches beyond his dreams. Now if only God would see about finding him a wife that would give him children. It was his own cross to bear that none of his wives could get themselves with child, especially this latest one. She could do nothing but look pretty and speak well. Granted, his guests loved her singing and the games she invented. They even enjoyed the little sketches she did of them. A good time was promised at Henri de Picassaret’s and he always delivered. Now, though, he’d grown tired of hearing her praised by his guests.
“How talented she is, Henri. How clever of you to find such a jewel.”
But she was not the jewel for which he had hoped. She was barren, like his previous wives. He had already begun searching for a new wife. One more docile and more fertile than Madeleine Bouchard.
She had been a spoiled child and was now a spoiled woman. He’d had to discipline her much too often. He no longer thought it worth his trouble. He would ask God this morning how He wished Henri to handle the heavy burden placed upon him.
Henri held still as Bertrand finished. Dressed and perfumed, he headed for the chapel to lose himself in his reveries. Before he realized, mass was over and he hadn’t heard a thing God might have told him. It was all that bitch’s fault. If she and her unacceptable behavior hadn’t weighed so heavily upon his mind, he could have heard what God wanted him to do with such an unruly wife. Now he would have to discipline her over it before they left for his business in London with Lord Montayne.
Henri walked carefully down the corridor to his room. Control was most important at these times, he had learned. He did not punish Madeleine when he was enraged. No, that was wrong,