A Kiss in the Night by Jennifer Horsman Page B

the twins had been born, she had showered all her motherly love and affection on Morgan. Occasionally she tossed leftover crumbs in Paxton's direction, but it was not enough. Everyone saw that it was not enough.
    And everyone, including himself, had tried to make up for it. So in a curious way, Paxton had always had the love of the people. Morgan had everything else. And everything else was all of Gaillard.
    As firstborn, Morgan inherited the richest land of the region, its ancient chateau, the wealth of its vineyards. Paxton had nothing more than his knighthood, and the position he had earned as wine steward. Yet, from their boyhood, it seemed the less Paxton got, the harder he worked. The hard work made him into the most skilled warrior in all of Southern France, perhaps beyond, and now a great master of wine making, a man, unlike his brother, of rare shining character, noble ideas, intelligence, and wit. Paxton was a man whom other men turned to in need, whether that need be a greater crop yield or an easy laugh. Paxton could always see the solution to problems long before others even saw the problem. So Paxton had outshined Morgan. Therein lay their troubles.
    Not that Morgan was a bad man; he wasn't
    He just wasn't as good.
    "Morgan." John broke the silence, drawing his nephew's gaze to him. "Despite everything that has happened between you and Paxton, he is your brother. I cannot help but believe that beneath it all you still love him, that you always will."
    Morgan did not deny it. He turned to the fire in the hearth, and for a long moment, the comment kept him silent. At last he confessed in a softened tone, "Love? Ah, perhaps, Uncle. Perhaps. Yet these brotherly sentiments for Paxton have always come with such a sharp sting." He shook his head "Grand as it is, Gaillard is not big enough for the both of us. It's never been big enough for the both of us—I do not care how much he has mastered our family's vineyard." His amber eyes found his uncle as he added, "Has it occurred to you that I have done my brother a favor by banishing him from his home? Aye! He has spent his whole life fighting for something he cannot have. And I have finally set him free."
    Passionately he continued, "Gaillard is mine by right of my birth. And it will be passed to my sons—by God's grace, that lady will give me a son." The thought pleased him and he suddenly laughed, "And while it would give me enormous pleasure to see my brother look upon my wife and watch his eyes blaze with envy, I do, in fact, keep enough brotherly affection to want to spare him that final straw."
    As they stood by the table, Morgan picked up a carafe and splashed wine into his cup, raising it with a toast. "To you, my dear Paxton, wherever fate may lead you. May you find fortune and happiness, may you live long and well. And by God's grace, may I never hear your name again. . ."
    Yet he did hear his brother's name on the eve of his wedding day two weeks later, and from the most unexpected source. After his lady's slain knights had been found and carted in coffins to be buried in the Gaillard graveyard, Belinda—who liked to be called simply Linness—had begged for time to prepare a new wardrobe Though it was hell waiting for the ceremony, he had relented. The wait was almost over and the idea put him in a fine mood as he made his way up the stairs and to his empty chambers. He waved away Franz, his squire, and began to undress himself.
    She watched from the darkened alcove.
    He first caught the faintest hint of her perfume. Lilac-scented oils. She had taken to bathing in the river every day, where she applied this oil to her long hair to keep knots out, he had discovered. The faint scent followed her about, teasing him unmercifully and driving him nearly mad at times. He first thought he was imagining it, but no. He looked up and around the room, finding her as she stepped out of the shadows.
    "Linness," he said, much surprised as he took in her slender shape