Free Claire Delacroix by My Ladys Desire

buckled to his hip, a helmet tucked beneath his arm. Even in the darkness of the stables, his fair hair gleamed golden and the brightness of his eyes flashed like twin flames.
    Gabrielle, to her dismay, felt suddenly much warmer than she had before. Seven kinds of fool! she chided herself silently. She had no business responding to the allure of this man! What had happened to her resolve?
    Her traitorous lips burned anew with the memory of the firm imprint of his kiss.
    “Gaston, did I not send you here this morning to ready the horses?” the knight demanded.
    Gaston hung his head with a dejection that might have been comic under other circumstance. “Yes, my lord.”
    Yves gestured to Gabrielle with evident annoyance, though his tone remained remarkably even. “Yet I arrive to find the lady saddling her own beast, and not a mere lady’s palfry at that! What explanation do you have for this behavior?”
    Gaston shrugged, but before he could speak, Gabriellestepped forward to defend him. “I told the boy that I prefer to saddle my steed myself.”
    “Indeed?” The knight seemed unmoved by this confession. “And was this made clear before Gaston came to perform his labor or when you arrived to find the deed not completed?”
    Lady and squire exchanged a glance, knowing full well that they could not talk their way around such reasoning. Had Gaston followed his knight’s bidding, Methuselah would have been saddled before Gabrielle even reached the stable this morning.
    “Methuselah is difficult to saddle,” Gabrielle said, hearing the weakness of the argument even as it was made.
    “Yes, sir! He blows out his stomach to avoid the cinch!” Gaston stretched out his hands in an attempt to show the span. “He must have been this wide before the lady tricked him!”
    “Indeed.” Yves glanced pointedly to the steed in question, and Gabrielle followed his gaze, only to find the silver stallion looking as innocent as could be. Methuselah nibbled meekly at the hay in his stall, but Gabrielle noted the mischievous gleam in his eye.
    There were days when she imagined this beast was more clever than most people she knew.
    “ This steed?” Yves asked skeptically.
    “This very one,” Gabrielle said firmly. “Even now he endeavors to let you underestimate his wiles.”
    “Indeed.” Disbelief lingered in Yves’ tone, but instead of arguing the point, he turned to his squire. “But now that you know the steed’s trick, there will be no excuse on the morrow. Am I understood?”
    “Yes, my lord.” Gaston bowed low.
    “And Merlin?”
    “Awaits saddled and caparisoned in his stall, my lord.”
    “Your own palfry?”
    “Ready, my lord, and waiting with Merlin.” The boy took a deep breath. “I made provision with the cook that a middaymeal be provided and have only to fetch it from him. I do hope this meets with your satisfaction.”
    Yves lifted a brow, and Gabrielle enjoyed the fact that he was surprised by this news. “Very good,” he acknowledged with new warmth. “Other than the preparation of the lady’s steed, you have shown foresight and planning this morn.”
    Gaston flushed as he bowed low, a delighted smile at this praise threatening to ruin his attempt at a somber manner.
    “Though you might lay hands on a tabard that looks less disreputable. The lady, no doubt, is accustomed to riding with a party appropriately garbed.”
    Gaston looked to Gabrielle in alarm, as though he feared she had taken insult at the mere sight of him. Gabrielle could not help smiling in reassurance, and some of Gaston’s cocky manner was immediately restored.
    Yet he bowed low to his knight. “Yes, my lord.”
    Gabrielle was forced to admit that the knight was not unfair with the boy. Michel might well have seen Gaston whipped for his failure to fulfil all his tasks.
    But Yves sought to win her approval, that much Gabrielle knew, if only to prove that he could have whatever he desired even if she chose to deny it to