Claire Delacroix by My Ladys Desire

but though those who remained had served her, they did not pledge to a woman’s hand. That was one circumstance Gabrielle had been forced to accept.
    But to have a knight choose to pledge to a mere child—whatever his gender or status as heir—instead of to her was galling, indeed.
    And it was worse, far worse, for Yves to be the knight who made that choice. The one asset of which Gabrielle was unduly proud was her intellect. That this purportedly perceptive man had failed to note that characteristic was insulting.
    It could not be that his opinion of her mattered in the least. This was merely a question of respect, deserved but unfairly withheld. She had held the inhabitants of Perricault together; she had provided for their welfare and safety; she had sought out the leader they needed to reclaim Perricault.
    And Leon, curse him, had immediately bent his knee to Yves! Since Michel’s death Leon had evidently never even imagined that he might pledge his fealty to Gabrielle!
    Men!
    Gabrielle rode Methuselah hard that afternoon, diving recklessly along the unmarked trail she knew as well as the palm of her own hand. Let this cocky knight keep pace with her, worthless woman that he deemed her to be!
    Long after they left the road, a stream danced across their course, its water sparkling in the fading light. Vestiges of ice clung to the rocks that lined its banks, for the shadows were long here even at midday. Methuselah, well accustomed to this spot, bent to drink from the stream, while Gabrielle examined the opposite bank.
    There was not a sign of another being, which was precisely as it should be. She noted how the moss had turned green onthe rocks, glanced at the deceptive shadows of the rushing stream. The water ran surprisingly fast and deep here. It was cold and many of the stones were slick with moss.
    One must know one’s way to cross here without incident.
    Yves drew alongside her and his steed followed Methuselah’s suit. The boy started to speak, but Yves held up a hand for silence and fixed his gaze upon Gabrielle.
    Without even glancing his way, she knew that he realized this was a place of import She wondered whether he would be surprised when he saw what lay beyond, and noted that Leon’s expression was carefully impassive.
    Perhaps this bold knight would soon have to reassess her intellect, after all!
    Though, no doubt, he would grant the credit to Leon, despite whatever explanation was given. Irked at that thought, Gabrielle pursed her lips and gave a long clear whistle.
    Two heartbeats later, an owl hooted from the forest on the far side of the stream. At least it sounded like an owl, but Gabrielle knew it was Franz acknowledging her cry.
    And granting her leave to proceed.
    Well aware of the way Yves’ glance darted from her to the apparently uninhabited forest, Gabrielle urged Methuselah across the stream. He chose his footing carefully, having taken more than one plunge into these icy depths, and gained the far shore with a nicker and a stomp of his hooves.
    Despite herself, Gabrielle turned to watch Yves follow suit, fully expecting that he might discover the stream’s icy depths. A wicked part of her wished he would fall and lose some of his cursed composure, if only for a moment.
    He did not plunge forward, though, but granted his steed time to pick his way across the precarious rocks. Once the black beast would have misstepped, but with a subtle click of his tongue and a touch on the stallion’s neck, Yves directed him to the precise place Methuselah had stepped.
    When the pair gained the shore, Yves slanted Gabrielle aknowing look that made her flush. He had guessed she had wanted him to stumble! Curse his powers of observation!
    “Yah! Comet! Make haste!”
    Gabrielle glanced up, just in time to see Gaston plunge recklessly into the current with his palfry. “No!” she cried, seeing disaster the instant before it happened.
    Leon and his destrier leaped from the far bank in pursuit, just as