Page 20 of The Wager and the Wedding

Martin leaned against the doorframe and smiled. “A lucky guess.”

Straightening and turning abruptly, Isabella pinned him with a glare. “I know what you’re up to and it won’t work.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He met her gaze with a smoldering one of his own. Oh, it was working. It was definitely working. And she didn’t like it one bit.Good.He liked her riled up and feisty.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Adelaide asked, unfurling the scroll. And then she gasped. “Oh my goodness, you brought me music! And not just any music, apastorelaby Cercamon! Where did you get this?”

He shrugged casually. “It’s just something I picked up in Narbonne last year.” More like something he’d hunted down over the course of multiple visits, spanning years. This was his favorite troubadour verse, and he simply had to hold the notes in his hand. He’d made a copy for himself, of course, but he was giving her the original. The man that sold it to him claimed it had been penned by the great Cercamon himself.

“This is too much,” Adelaide said, clutching the parchment to her chest. “Did you know Cercamon is my favorite troubadour?”

He was starting to really like Adelaide. It was a shame he had to send her off to Lady Eleanor. Her company was delightful, and she certainly had a mellowing effect on her sister.

“I knew you were from Bordeaux and played the lute. I thought you might appreciate a little something from your homeland to distract you while you’re feeling unwell.” Her wide eyes gleamed with appreciation, and he knew he’d hit his mark. She would be an ally in his campaign to win Isabella, and evenhis warrior queen of a wife couldn’t stand for long against a united front.

“Might I escort you to dinner?” he asked Isabella, holding out his arm.

Isabella pursed her lips and stalked toward him, then grasped his arm with fearsome strength.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he said with a little bow to Adelaide before he opened the door for Isabella.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Isabella turned on him. “I won’t let you use Adelaide as a pawn in your game.”

“All I have done is offer her dinner and distraction. Any gracious host would have done as much.” Never mind that he had put more thought into this evening’s meal than he had about any other repast in his life. But it was worth it.Shewas worth it.

Isabella dug in her nails. “I’m watching you.”

“Can’t keep your eyes off me, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’d much rather flatter you. Come,” he said, leading her to the hold where he’d set up an intimate grotto.

Guiding her through the door, he was rather proud of the effect he’d achieved. Pine boughs hung from the rafters as if they were under an enormous tree, their fresh scent mingling with the rich and decadent meal set on the table in the center. Panels of dark fabric hung down the sides of the space, covering the bulkheads, creating an intimate, velvety darkness. A metal lantern with tiny stars pierced through its sides hung above the table, creating the illusion of a starry night’s sky as specks of light twinkled against the black. A single candle in a Venetian glass bowl provided a warm glow in the center of the table.

Her swift intake of breath was all the reward he needed for his efforts. She might deny it up and down, and almost certainly would, but she was impressed. He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat, eyes wide, taking in every detail.

With a smile of satisfaction, he sat down across from her and poured them each some wine, a special vintage made in her native Bordeaux. Then he began carving up roasted venison, serving the most choice cuts onto her plate and dolloping pepper sauce over them. The cook at Bamburgh had been with the family since Isabella’s childhood and claimed it was her favorite meal.

Baldwin had really outdone himself replicating the recipe. They didn’t usually have fresh meat on board, but one advantage of the frigid weather was that such delicacies could be stored without spoiling, at least for a little while. He would have to switch to fish before the end of their journey, but he would ply her with succulent roasts while he could.

Isabella licked her lips, even as her gaze turned wary. “Let’s get this over with. I would like to return to my sister.”

“As you wish, my queen. To your health,” he said raising a glass and taking a sip.Mmm.This was an excellent vintage. He would have to make a point to order more.

“To a swift journey,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “The sooner we can get off your little boat, the better.”

His smile faltered. It was one thing for her to insult him, butThe Wind Song? “Thisshipis as fine a vessel as any that sails the seven seas.”

She shrugged. “It’s adequate for a short journey, I suppose.”

He shouldn’t let her get to him. She was trying to goad him into biting back, and he couldn’t allow her to win, but he couldn’t help the twinge of irritation that her words provoked.

“Then it’s fortunate we don’t have far to go. But I’ve sailed to Venice and back in this ship. She is the finest in my fleet.” He was glad none of his crew could hear them. They didn’t take slights toThe Wind Songlightly.

“A handful of fishing vessels and rowboats does not make a fleet.”

He twitched, squeezing his hand into a fist beneath the table.

---