The Quest
Victim of an abusive marriage, Iana vowed in her widowhood never again to put her fate in masculine hands. But one man, Henri Gillet, heir to the Trouville dynasty, had aroused her slumbering desires–and endangered her deepest resolve.Love, Henri Gillet pondered, was simple. Noble obligations were not. And now he faced a royal-size dilemma–for though the Lady Iana had saved him from certain death, her shadowed past, so full of the darkest secrets, stood between them and threatened a future together…!
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The sight of his muscles shining with sweat shot a hot tingle of appreciation right down the middle of her
For an instant she could not tear her gaze away.
His soft chuckle warned her that he had noticed her fascination. Iana immediately shut her eyes, cursing herself for her wayward thoughts. She ignored his offer of assistance.
When she dared to look again, he had retreated to the edge of the water and begun wading in, his back to her. With a will of their own, her eyes immediately focused upon his uncovered nether cheeks. “Och, my sweet lord,” she breathed in absolute awe.
“Oui?” He looked over his left shoulder and raised one dark brow. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
What is it? he asks. Iana scoffed. Lust is what it was. Pure, unadulterated lust. And she should be ashamed of herself…!
Acclaim for Lyn Stone’s recent titles
The Highland Wife
“…laced with lovable characters, witty dialogue, humor and poignancy, this is a tale to savor.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
Bride of Trouville
“I could not stop reading this one…Don’t miss this winner!”
—Affaire de Coeur
The Knight’s Bride
“Stone has done herself proud with this delightful story…a cast of endearing characters and a fresh, innovative plot.”
—Publishers Weekly
#587 THE PRISONER BRIDE
Susan Spencer Paul
#589 THE MAIL-ORDER BRIDES
Bronwyn Williams
#590 SARA AND THE ROGUE
DeLoras Scott
Available from Harlequin Historicals and
LYN STONE
The Wicked Truth #358
The Arrangement #389
The Wilder Wedding #413
The Knight’s Bride #445
Bride of Trouville #467
One Christmas Night #487
“Ian’s Gift”
My Lady’s Choice #511
The Highland Wife #551
The Quest #588
Other works include:
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Beauty and the Badge #952
Live-In Lover #1055
This book is dedicated to those independent “Cato Girls,” Louise Pope, Mary Dunlap and Ruth Mimms, my mom and my aunts. Also to the heroic “Cato boys,” Earl, Green and Walt.
Equally as dear and deserving are my dad, Harlen Perkins, my stepfather, Preston Pope, and my uncles and aunts by marriage, Raiford Dunlap, Calvin Mimms, Corinne, Alice and Jolene Cato.
I thank you all for the invaluable lessons you have taught me through advice and example. How else would I have recognized love when I found it?
Contents
Chapter One
West coast of Scotland, 1340
The taste of his first defeat grew no less bitter with his arrival on these shores, thought Henri Gillet as he climbed out of the disreputable vessel they had commandeered. He dragged his long legs through the sucking, thigh-deep waves. “Pay the man, Ev,” he called out over his shoulder.
The squire tossed a small pouch of coins at the disgruntled fisherman and then struggled through the bitterly cold surf to where Henri waited on the deserted, rock-strewn shore.
“Where are we, sir?” the lad asked while he shook himself off and shivered. Though Everand strove hard to erase the trepidation from his voice, Henri knew he surely must fear what was to come. Truth told, he feared it himself, though not for the same reasons.
He needed to reach safe haven so that the boy would have a chance at survival. At the moment, Henri was not certain he could manage that. His own chances were meager at best. Doggedly he placed one foot before the other and steeled himself against the grinding pain. The bleeding wound just below his ribs ached less than the hurt in his heart. He had lost everything.
If he died, he must account to God. And if he lived, he must face his father. In his mind, there was little difference. Not that he expected harshness in either case, for both had treated him benevolently thus far and would again. And that would be far worse than any punishment they might inflict. A bitter brew, indeed, was defeat.
He had not caused it. In fact, he had done all within his power to prevent it. And yet, he still felt accountable, responsible somehow for losing what had been entrusted to him. The lives of those who had followed him when he’d been called to war were forfeit. All gone. All drowned, save young Everand.
“I know this land. We are not lost,” Henri finally assured the squire. He experienced a sharp stab of guilt that he had dragged this young man so far from his home in Sarcelles to fight against the English. And to a near watery grave when their ship sank off the coast of Portsmouth. Even so, the fourteen-year-old lengthened his short-legged stride to keep in step. Eager as a hound pup to please the master, even now. Henri shook his head at the earnestness of youth.
“You should rest, my lord. That wound of yours worries me.” The squire did not mention that Henri had begun to stagger and show signs of weakening. Loyalty and compassion had been bred in this boy’s bones, Henri thought. For that reason alone, he had chosen Everand Mercier, a deceased cloth merchant’s youngest, to serve him. What a fine knight he would make one day, despite his size.
