Page 10 of The Cordial Bride

Ian had already packed up the basket and grabbed it and the wicker cradle to follow Calan on the shorter path. As they passed the cave opening near the outcrop of rock, the man remarked on it. “That looks like a fun place to explore.”

Calan nearly stumbled as he realized he’d brought the count to the one place he shouldn’t have. He recovered as quickly as he could and tried to sound casual as he hurried on. “Oh, it is. I’ll show it to you sometime, if you like.” He held his breath, hoping Ian would let the topic go.

“That might be…interesting.” There was something in the man’s tone that caused unease.

Calan didn’t dare dwell on it further, however, and raced back to the village.

Chapter Four

“Honestly, Ian, you’re like a child who can’t tell time.”

Ian stood under his sister’s withering glare, trying not to squirm. “I was back in plenty of time, Isabeau. As you can see, I’m ready to go to the banquet.” He did not add, because he liked his balls to remain right where they were, that it was he who had waited for her to be ready.

Isabeau harrumphed. “I’m not going to mention how you spent the entire afternoon with that boy, doing the gods know what.”

Once again, he didn’t point out that she had, in fact, just spoke of that very thing. “He was showing me his foraging. It was quite informative, actually.”

His sister stopped in her tracks and eyed him intently. “He didn’t happen to give you any information about the ingredients for their new cordial, did he?”

“No, of course not. He’s loyal to his people and not stupid.” He kept to himself the encounter with the cave by the lake. He’d sensed in Calan’s change in demeanor that there was something there he hadn’t intended to show. Whether it was about this new medicine or not remained to be seen, but Ian wasn’t going to break the boy’s budding trust in him by pushing the matter. It had been humbling the way Calan had responded to his touch and had lain trustingly in his arms for a few hours.

“I suppose it was too much to hope for.” Isabeau continued on her way.

Ian matched her dainty steps. “How did the day’s negotiation go?”

“Well enough. They are wary, to be sure, and I’ve had to prove my skills as a healer to them. We spent most of the time discussing various tonics, cordials and potions. Our knowledge of such overlaps almost completely…if you discount their latest concoction, that is.”

All those words sounded the same to him, and whatever nuances they had for healers, he knew that his sister could stand up with the best of them. “Their many generations of isolation is a hard thing for them to get over, I imagine.”

Isabeau shot him a look of disdain. “Of course it is. The king has authorized me to offer them a very valuable treaty, but they seem almost indifferent to its benefits. I’ve laid out in plain terms what Moorcondia will give them, but they showed no signs that they were impressed with its value, which is substantial. The king isn’t driving a hard bargain here. The council should be jumping at the opportunity to obtain such benefits. One gets the impression, however, that they want a more personal connection.

“It reminds me of when I visited the Trueharts for the first time. Richard’s family was unfailingly polite, and yet I knew I was being tested to see if I was worthy of him and would fit nicely into their lives.” She shuddered theatrically. “It was almost unbearably stressful until he took me into his arms one night, kissed me and said we suited each other very well. After that, nothing seemed to matter. I started to fall in love with him at that moment.”

Knowing that the marriage had been arrange by their parents, and even seeing that his sister had been happy with her husband, it was good to hear for the first time, that she’d also loved the man. It was no wonder she mourned him still and refused to entertain any other men in her life. And while both families had benefited economically from the marital bond, the emotional glue had been the best binder of the arrangement. The strength of a personal connection, as Isabeau had described it, was why marriages often came with treaties. The import of his thoughts caused him to come to a dead stop.

No. That would be ridiculous. This treaty is being forged by the exchange of goods only. Even as he tried to dissuade himself of his burgeoning plan, Isabeau’s words in the carriage popped into his head. A marriage would do wonders for a treaty…

Isabeau stopped with him and gasped. “For goodness’ sake, Ian, what is it?”

He shook his head and got his feet moving again. “Nothing. Sorry.”

But it was not ‘nothing’. The proof of it was standing right inside the longhouse by Councilwoman Celia’s side. At Isabeau’s entrance, all eyes turned to her, and by extension, to him. There was only one person whose gaze mattered, however. He stared at Calan as he followed his sister. Everything inside him tightened. It wasn’t merely arousal, although that was terribly evident by the cramp in his cock and balls. The reaction was more holistic than that, as if every fiber of his being were on high alert. It was the feeling of going into battle. He’d done very little fighting in his life, but enough for him to recognize his body’s response. In theory, there was nothing dangerous about his situation, yet he couldn’t quite help believing that his life was on a path not of his making.

He stopped in front of the council members and managed to murmur polite greetings to them all before once again, focusing on Calan. “It’s good to see you. You seem quite refreshed, despite our long day.” It wasn’t perhaps fair of him, but the blush that rose on the boy’s cheeks pleased him immensely. Calan wore his emotions on his sleeve more than most.

Calan angled away from his aunt. “Good evening, my lord. I hope you enjoyed my hospitality, simple as it was.”

The little minx was flirting in his own way. “Indeed I did. It was very enlightening to explore the beauty of your country and its endless bounty.”

Celia broke in before Calan could respond, grabbing the boy by his arm. “Time to sit. Remember your place, Calan.” In emphasis of her double meaning, she glared at Ian before propelling her nephew forward.

“Yes, Aunt.” Calan’s tone was meek, but he managed to shoot Ian a sly smile before walking away.

Celia was not done, however. With everyone going to settle at the table, they were alone for the first time. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You would do well to remember that you are a guest here, Count Charteris, and on sufferance because of your sister’s diplomatic standing. My nephew is a young and impressionable innocent, not a plaything to amuse yourself with.”

Ian worked to keep his tone civil, his hackles rising. “I assure you, madam, that I understand completely what the situation is. Calan’s welfare is of the utmost importance to me.”

“It best be, because I will be the one to pick up the pieces once you have left.” With that, she turned on her heel and sailed away.

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