Claire Delacroix by My Ladys Desire Page B

an ugly exchange, yet continued. “Let him at least take some hot broth before he tends the palfry.”
    Yves swung into his saddle and granted her a look that might have burned through steel. To Gabrielle’s surprise, his tone was level once more, though his words were clipped. “The nights are cold in these parts?”
    Gabrielle blinked to find her protest considered with evident seriousness. She hastened to continue, before Yves decided not to listen to her. “The chill comes down from the mountains, even this late in the spring. And our accommodations, as you will see, are less than luxurious.”
    Yves took a deep breath, frowned at his squire, then glanced back to Gabrielle. “You make good sense, as usual, my lady,” he admitted with a faint hint of that heart-wrenching smile. “Forgive me for losing my temper with Gaston.”
    Gabrielle blinked at his ready concession and unexpected apology. In her mind’s eye, she saw her father watching a disobedient squire be whipped at his own command some long-ago afternoon, his regal features tight with a disapproval not unlike Yves’.
    And she recalled Michel raging at young Thomas when the child had accidentally broken a crock, not ceasing even when the boy wept in contrition.
    Men Gabrielle had known neither softened their stance nor apologized. She marveled that this knight did both so readily, yet could not help but wonder why.
    “He has a rare enthusiasm,” Gabrielle said gently, surprised by the pang that shot through her at the fleeting memory of her son. “And places great weight on your advice.”
    Yves made a sound that might have been a wry laugh. “That enthusiasm is the trouble. He thinks of nothing but romance and battle and scaling castle walls.”
    Gabrielle urged her steed to keep pace with Yves’ destrier. “Surely it is harmless?”
    “For one other than a knight, it might well be,” Yves conceded, flicking a glance fraught with concern at the cowed squire. “But I fear that one day such distraction will cost Gaston his very hide.”
    Gabrielle’s heart wrenched to see Yves’ fears for his squire. But no! Men looked to the fulfillment of their own needs alone! That was one thing Gabrielle had learned only too well.
    An unexpected disappointment in that certainty made Gabrielle’s tone harsher than it might have been otherwise. “And you would have to train another boy,” she said tartly, “at much inconvenience to yourself.”
    Yves glared at her, his golden eyes burning with anger. “My lady, I understand that you hold my character in low esteem, but such thinking would be beyond base. Surely it is not so preposterous that I should care for the boy’s survival?”
    Gabrielle stared into the knight’s eyes and saw a sincerity gleaming there that humbled her. She had never imagined that any man could look beyond himself in concern for another’s well-being, but evidently this one did for at least his squire. Gabrielle did not know what to think, much less what to say, in the face of such unexpected consideration.
    “I am sorry,” she said softly, feeling the words were hopelessly inadequate.
    Yves nodded crisply. “In truth, none of this is your concern,my lady, and I apologize in turn for burdening you with my troubles.” His tone was so devoid of emotion that they might have been discussing the weather.
    Gabrielle felt suddenly that Yves had firmly closed a door, one that had momentarily gaped open and granted her a glimpse of his inner thoughts. And now she stood decisively outside that door.
    She felt oddly bereft by that change.
    But Yves merely arched a fair brow. “Shall we continue before boy and steed do catch that chill?”
    Gabrielle clicked to Methuselah, noting only moments later that Yves had spared no concern for his own welfare, though he was as wet and undoubtedly as cold as the boy left to his charge.
    Was it possible that all men were not quite the same?
    Gabrielle gripped her reins and forced herself to recall