tall, broad body blotted out the sun. Aude felt herself go stiff. It was not Hugh’s body, she felt no desire to touch it.
Her nose wrinkled. Sir Olivier’s blue tunic smelt faintly of sweat, stale sweat that made her want to turn her head aside. Not all men had this smell, she recalled, as the naked shoulders and finely sculpted musculature of Hugh Duclair came into focus in her mind.
‘My lady, I swear if you were to honour me with your hand, I would cherish you all my life.’
The eyes of the Abbot’s knight were almost black and as she tipped her head back Aude could see her own small self reflected back at her. What was he seeing? Herself? Or the lands and the dowry she would bring him?
The body of the Abbot’s knight pressed against her, flustering her, hemming her in. Her apple fell to the ground and she forced herself to stand still while his lips touched hers.
Nothing.
Aude felt nothing but a sense of unease. No, it was stronger than that, it was irritation and it was growing stronger with every second that his mouth was on hers. Smothered—he was smothering her. Her hand came up to push him away. He caught it in one of his. She swallowed down a protest.
Sir Olivier pressed closer, pushing her back against the tree. Think of our family, she told herself, we need to make a good alliance.
Aude held firm as he pressed closer. Her veil snagged on a twig and her sense of irritation increased.
‘Ouch! Sir Olivier!’
He could not have heard for he went on kissing her. He was trying to insert his tongue between her teeth. A shudder, and it was entirely of revulsion, went through her. Martin had never done anything half so repulsive. Aude twisted her head. There was a ripping sound as the twig tore the delicate fabric of her veil. Her hair felt as though someone was pulling it out at the roots.
‘Ow! Please, sir!’
His body smelled sour. Sir Olivier might be wearing a pretty tunic but it was better suited to winter than summer and it needed rather more than an airing.
He lifted his head and Aude no longer felt suffocated. The sense of irritation faded. He smiled; it was a very charming smile, his best feature. Boyish and vulnerable, his smile told her, for all that he was a knight, this man was malleable. He would never bend her to his will.
In that instant Aude recognised that if she and Sir Olivier were to make a match of it, he would defer to her. Thoughtfully, she looked at him. She might not warm to him, she might never yearn for him, but it seemed he was a rarity among the knightly class. He would not forget that the lands that came with the marriage belonged to her.
‘Oh, your veil! I am sorry, my lady, I wouldn’t have had that happen for the world, except…’
‘Yes?’ Aude felt as though she were not really here in the orchard, she was watching Sir Olivier from many miles away. This Abbot’s knight, this landless knight wanted her dowry. Her hair had come loose, a strand was gleaming in a patch of dappled sunlight; when he reached to caress it and sighed, laughter formed inside her.
‘Your hair, it is so beautiful, I had no idea,’ he murmured. ‘You are a goddess, a golden goddess of beauty.’
Yes, a giggle was definitely rising, Aude sank her teeth into her lips to keep it in. Sir Olivier had a fine opinion of himself, but she could not take him seriously. And as for his touch, his kiss…
What would Hugh’s kiss be like?
Unhooking her hair from his fingers, Aude turned away and set about straightening her veil. Stop thinking about Hugh! Give this knight your full attention. If he is indeed malleable, he might be useful.
When Aude had set her appearance to rights, Sir Olivier was leaning against the tree, biting into an apple.
‘My lady, it is your brother’s wish that we marry.’
‘Yes, I know, but—’
Sir Olivier tossed the apple aside and reached her in two strides. ‘It is my wish also.’
‘Sir, my dowry is not large, but nevertheless I think you are more interested in my lands than my person.’
‘Not so!’ He took her hands, kissing each in turn. ‘I admit that was the case before I met you, but now that I have met you…’
Aude pulled free. ‘You are very glib, sir. You know I have a manor near Crèvecoeur?’
‘Yes.’
‘And my grandfather left a chest of money with the Abbot here. That is my dowry.’
‘I know about that, but—’
‘I also,’ Aude swept on, ‘have been gifted a small estate in Wessex. Did you know of that?’
Sir Olivier’s handsome face crinkled into a frown. ‘Where the devil is Wessex?’
‘It is in England, sir.’
‘Your brother gave you this estate?’
‘No, my fiancé gave it to me.’
‘Count Martin? I was not aware he had lands in England.’
‘No, Sir Olivier, it is Count Richard I am referring to.’
The Abbot’s knight tipped his head to one side. ‘The man who stepped into Martin’s shoes? I never realised you were promised to him too.’
‘Only briefly. We soon agreed that we should not suit, and as a parting gift Count Richard granted me this estate in England.’
Sir Olivier looked puzzled. ‘Well, that is all to the good, my lady, but I meant it when I said I wished to marry you and not your lands.’
‘I am telling you this,’ Aude softened her voice, ‘because I want you to understand my intentions. I am currently on my way to Wessex.’
His eyes widened. ‘I see.’
‘I hope that you do. I wish to tour my estate there and ensure that it is in good order. And whatever my brother may say, I am not going to make any decisions regarding my future until my return.’
‘And when might that be?’
Aude shrugged. ‘That will largely depend on what I find in England.’ She gave him a straight look. ‘My brother thinks to sway me, Sir Olivier, but—’
‘You cannot be swayed.’ He grinned.
Not by you, Aude thought, which, oddly, was the very reason she might consider marrying him in the future. If she had to…‘No, sir. I shall tour my estate; there are matters there that need my attention. With luck I will be back at Crèvecoeur by Advent.’
‘You will risk a winter crossing? Is that wise?’
Aude made an impatient movement. ‘I will not travel if the weather is inclement. What I am saying, Sir Olivier, is—’
‘No. You are saying no. You will not have me.’
Aude was startled to see disappointment written so clearly on the handsome face. And she would swear it was more than the loss of her dowry; this man appeared to genuinely want her for his wife. Malleable indeed.
‘Yes, Sir Olivier,’ she spoke gently but firmly. ‘I am afraid that I am.’
His nostrils flared and she found herself at the receiving end of another of those charming smiles. ‘When do you leave?’ he asked, politely offering her his arm.
As they started walking back to the church, tension seeped out of her, and Aude realised she had been braced for a churlish reaction. Her heart warmed to him. There were not many knights who would accept her decision so well. Charmer he might be, but Sir Olivier was genuinely likeable, which was all to the good. Particularly since Edouard would be more agreeable about