Desire

19

"The devil, they are all so young," Gareth tnut-"tered. "Not a one of them is above nineteen years." He surveyed the faces of Lucretius's four surviving knights as they were led into the hall for questioning. "Why did that damned magician have to choose boys to carry out his plans?"

"They are not boys, they are men." Ulrich shrugged. "And you know the answer to your question as well as I do."

"Aye." Gareth braced his elbow on the arm of the heavy oak chair and rested his chin on the heel of his hand. He never relished this aspect of the business. "Young men of that age are easier to control and more easily impressed than are their elders. They do not question commands.

Or a magician's tricks."

"De Valemont no doubt used a combination of terror and promises of knighthood and a fortune to lure them into his service. Tis an old and much-proven technique for recruiting young men."

"My lady wife wishes me to show mercy." Gareth gazed moodily at the prisoners. "She has bid me set them free."

"So I have heard. Indeed, my lord, the entire hall is aware of Lady Clare's, ah, request."

"I knew she would not be able to keep the matter private."

"I believe the rumors started when a serving maid found Lady Clare asleep in the wardrobe this morning."

Gareth tapped his forefinger against his set jaw and said nothing.

Ulrich politely cleared his throat. "Mayhap your gentle lady feels sorry for these men because they are not much older than Dalian. I'm surprised she feels equally charitable toward the would-be thieves we caught at the harbor, however. There is no denying they are a seasoned lot."

"She would have me banish them all and bid them good fortune in their next endeavors."

"Women are inclined to be softhearted, especially those who have not had much experience with violence."

"She says she does not want Abbess Helen to arrive on our fair isle to find seven corpses twisting in the scented breezes."

"Something tells me our lady abbess has seen worse in her time," Ulrich murmured.

"True. In any event, if we get on with the matter, we can be rid of the corpses before the abbess arrives." Gareth watched the four knights come to a halt in front of his chair.

They were not only young, they were scared and trying hard to conceal the fear behind masks of stoic defiance. Gareth nodded once to the guards, who stepped back a pace. Then he looked straight at the eldest of the young men.

"You. What is'your name?"

"Sir Robert."

"Where is your hall?"

Robert hesitated and then shrugged. "I do not have a hall now that Lord Lucretius is dead."

"You have no family?"

"Nay, my lord."

"Your parents?"

Robert looked puzzled by the line of questioning. "I never knew my father. My mother died at my birth."

Gareth glanced at the next young knight. "And you? What is your name?

Where is your family's hall?"

"My name is John." There was a slight tremor in John's voice. He took a deep breath and managed to control it. "I was the magician's sworn man.

Now that he is dead, I do not have a hall."

"I believe I see a pattern here," Ulrich said softly.

"Aye." Gareth looked at the remaining two knights. "Do either of you have families? A hall?"

Both shook their heads.

"If it pleases you, my lord." Robert took a single step forward.

Gareth glanced at him. "What is it?"

"None of us has any relatives or friends who will ransom us. All that we possess was given to us by the magician. Our armor and our swords are the only things of value that we own." Robert's mouth was a tight, grim line. His eyes held fierce pride as well as fear. "And you have already stripped them from us. You may as well get on with the hanging."

"In good time, Sir Robert, in good time. Death always comes soon enough for most." Gareth motioned for the guards to take the knights back to their makeshift prison.

Ulrich clasped his hands behind his back and waited until the hall was empty once more. Then he looked at Gareth. "Do you wish to question the bowmen we caught at the harbor, my lord?"

"Nay. There is nothing new to be learned from them. They are typical of their kind. Freebooters who hired themselves out to the magician on the promise of easy plunder."

"Masterless men."

"Aye." Gareth got to his feet. "Men without villages or families."

"Such men are always dangerous. Best to hang them quickly and be done with it."

"Aye." Gareth walked to a nearby table where he had spread out an assortment of items that he and Dalian had discovered in Lucretius de Valemont's cloak. "Have you seen this yet, Ulrich?"

"Nay." Ulrich crossed to the table. He looked down at the handful of tiny slivers of metal floating in a bowl of water. "What are they?"

"Dalian tells me that de Valemont called them his iron fish. Watch."

Gareth dipped a finger into the water and spun the small iron slivers in a circle. When the water settled, so did the iron fish. "Notice that they are pointing in the same direction in which they pointed before I disturbed the water."

Ulrich frowned. "What of it?"

"They are pointing north, my friend. Always north. It is the mysterious device the magician used to guide his hired thieves to the isle in the fog. He would have used it again to make his escape."

"Iron fish?"

"I heard of such a few years ago," Gareth said. "I read about them again in Sir Humphrey's book. But this is the first time I have actually seen a device that uses them.

Amazing, is it not?"

"Aye." Ulrich stabbed a finger into the water and ruffled the surface of the liquid. He watched, fascinated, as the slivers realigned themselves. "Most interesting."

"Sir Humphrey's book says that the invention comes from China. As does the recipe for the sulfur and charcoal powder that we used to route de Valemont's men."

"What of these other objects?" Ulrich picked up a round, polished sphere.

"A mirror. Dalian says de Valemont used it to signal messages to his men on occasion." Gareth picked up a ring of oddly shaped keys. "He used these to open locks of all kinds."

"Ah. So that is how he got through the convent gates and into the library."

"Aye." Gareth dropped the keys back onto the table. "And how he managed to relock the recluse's cell after he had carried her body back into it."

"This is all quite interesting, sir, and knowing you, I'm sure you will be occupied for days playing with the magician's bag of tricks. But what am I to do about our prisoners in the meantime? Shall I see that they are dispatched immediately?"

"Nay. Hold off awhile longer. I may think of some more questions to ask them."

Gareth was aware of Ulrich's amused gaze resting on him as he walked out of the hall. As usual, he did not comprehend the jest.

The fog that had shrouded the isle for the past two days had finally cleared. The courtyard was humming with activity.

William and Dalian dashed to and fro, carrying out Eadgar's instructions and assisting the servants. As he went down the steps, Gareth saw two of his men-at-arms come through the open gate. They were laden with armfuls of fresh flowers. The sight of his hardened warriors buried in blossoms made him grin briefly.

His amusement faded as he crossed the courtyard to Clare's workrooms.

He could have forced her to return to the bed last night, of course. He was a lot bigger and a lot stronger than she was. It would have been a simple matter to fetch her out of the wardrobe. But he had been too annoyed to do so. He had told himself that a night spent on the hard floor, wrapped in a quilt, would teach her a lesson.

It was unfortunate that the serving maid had entered the wardrobe chamber earlier than usual. Clare had still been sound asleep.

Gareth had been awake, however. To his disgust, he had slept little during the night. Three times he had wandered into the wardrobe to adjust the quilt over Clare's shoulders.

It was one thing to let her sleep on the hard stone floor. It was another to let her take a chill. He had no intention of allowing her to risk her health while she did battle with him. He had a duty as a husband to see to it that she did not become ill through her foolish actions.

This morning she was astonishingly calm about the open warfare which she had more or less declared. She acted as if she had already won and was merely waiting for him to concede defeat.

Gareth wondered if she realized that he had never surrendered to anyone in his entire life.

He reached the first of the long series of workrooms and stepped into the open doorway. The scent of flowers, vanilla, and mint hit him like a soft pillow in the face.

"Clare?"

"In here, my lord," Clare called from the adjoining chamber.

Gareth walked through the mixing room into the drying room. He saw her standing at one of the wide tables. Something inside him twisted with yearning.

He had come close to losing her yesterday. The last thing he wished to do today was argue with her. He sighed. He knew better than to show weakness.

Clare held a handful of dried flowers to her nose. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on the fragrance. Sunlight streamed through the window behind her, creating a golden halo around her graceful figure.

She was the most wonderful thing in his life, Gareth thought. She had given him a home.

He shook off the strange blend of emotions that he did not fully comprehend and went toward her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, more for something to say than any real curiosity.

"I'm mixing a special pomander for the abbess." Clare opened her eyes.

"A very complex recipe that will be hers alone. Do you think she will appreciate it?"

"I'm certain she will." Gareth hesitated. "The household is in an uproar."

"She will be here any day now. Mayhap even this afternoon."

"Uh, Clare, I know you're very excited about this visit."

"I certainly am. Abbess Helen has been most gracious to me in her letters. I am eager to repay her kindness."

"Mayhap I should tell you?"

"Have you freed the prisoners, my lord?"

"Nay."

"I know you'll do the right thing before the day is out."

"Hell's teeth, woman, hanging them is the right thing."

"Not in this case. Have you taken a close look at Lucretius's knights?

They are not much older than Dalian."

"Well, what about those professional thieves Ulrich captured at the harbor?" Gareth retorted. "They cannot be excused by reason of youth.

One of them is forty, if he's a day. He's made a lifetime career out of robbing people."

"Aye, but if we are going to free the others, we may as well free him. I do not want even one corpse hanging above my beautiful flowers."

"Clare, you're a woman and you have led a rather sheltered life here on Desire. If you?" Gareth broke off as voices rose outside.

"Lady Clare, Lady Clare, your guests have arrived," a servant called.

"Lady Joanna said to tell you to come quickly."

"Abbess Helen is here." Clare opened her fingers and let the dried flowers drop back into the bowl.

"Clare, wait." Gareth reached for her as she sailed past him. He missed.

Clare rushed out through the door into the courtyard. "Joanna? Where is the abbess? Mayhap she will stop first at the convent to meet with the prioress. By Saint Hermione's girdle, we are not ready. I wanted all to be in perfect order when she got here."

Gareth walked slowly out of the drying shed and found Ulrich standing nearby. Together they surveyed the busy scene.

"The abbess is here?" Gareth asked.

"Aye. She came over from Seabern with an escort a short while ago. One of the men just rode up from the village with the news."

"An escort?" Gareth raised an inquiring brow.

"It seems that Thurston of Landry and three of his knights just happened to be traveling in the same direction as the abbess. They offered to provide protection for her and her retainers. The entire crowd should be here any minute."

"Just what I needed," Gareth said.

A screech of dismay rose above the commotion in the courtyard. Gareth glanced at Clare, who was gesticulating wildly with her hands.

"What do you mean, Thurston of Landry is on his way here?" Clare yelled at Joanna. "Tis impossible.

He cannot be here."

"Calm yourself, Clare," Joanna said. "We shall manage."

Clare scowled furiously. "How dare Lord Thurston do this to me? Has he no consideration? I am entertaining an abbess tonight; I cannot be bothered with a stupid baron."

"We shall manage," Joanna said soothingly.

"Nay, 'tis simply not possible. He has ruined everything. How am I to deal with my father-in-law when I am trying to entertain a great abbess?"

"An excellent question under the circumstances," Gareth observed to Ulrich.

"You're smiling, my lord. You know it makes me uneasy when you smile."

Ulrich hesitated. "What about the prisoners?"

"You had better hold them in the cellar for another day or so. There is too much chaos around here as it is. Hanging a bunch of thieves would no doubt create even more of an uproar."

"Aye," Ulrich said. "It should prove to be an interesting evening."

Shouts from the watchtower and a cloud of dust heralded the arrival of the company and a host of retainers.

"They're here," someone yelled. "The abbess and Thurston of Landry are at the gates."

Clare stalked over to Gareth. "This is really too much. The least your father could have done was send word that he intended to pay a visit."

"I suspect he made his decision on the spur of the moment when he learned that the abbess was on her way to Desire."

"But why would he do that? It makes no sense." Clare broke off as the riders clattered through the gates.

There was a general air of confusion as servants rushed to take the horses' heads.

"Come along, Clare. We must greet our guests." Gareth took her arm and started forward.

"That lady on the palfrey is the abbess." Clare's disgruntled expression gave way to renewed enthusiasm. "She appears to be in excellent health."

"She generally is."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind." Gareth watched as Thurston dismounted and gallantly went to assist the abbess. The pair turned to meet their host and hostess.

"My Lady Abbess." Clare rushed forward to kiss the ring of the tall, handsome woman in the Benedictine habit. "Welcome to Desire. We are honored."

"Tis good to see you again, Lady Clare." Abbess Helen smiled. "It is always a great pleasure to visit with you. I continue to enjoy our correspondence more than I can say."

"You are too kind." Clare turned with obvious reluctance to Thurston.

"My lord, you honor us with your presence."

The frost in her voice appeared to amuse Thurston. "I have been looking forward to meeting you again after all these years, Lady Clare."

"What a pity you did not send word so that we could have prepared a proper reception," Clare muttered.

Thurston kissed her hand with the easy grace he always displayed around women. "My apologies. It was a sudden decision on my part. Allow me to tell you that I am pleased to learn that my son met your requirements in a husband."

"Aye, well, I was not quite certain that he would do, at first, but as it happens he is very well suited to the position."

"I had hoped that would be the case."

Gareth watched with satisfaction as Clare impatiently withdrew her hand from his father's grasp. Few women were immune to Thurston of Landry's charm. Clare appeared utterly oblivious to it.

Clare's brows drew together in a sharp frown. "My lord, I do not wish to be rude, but I must warn you, if you have come to summon Lord Gareth away from Desire for some purpose, you are wasting your time."

"I am?"

"Aye, you cannot have him. He is needed here at home. You sent him to me and I must insist upon being allowed to keep him. There is a great deal to be done around here.

This isle has not had a proper lord for years."

"I see." Thurston gave Gareth an amused sidelong glance.

"If you wish this manor to remain profitable…" Clare paused meaningfully, "mayhap even increase its profits, then you will have to let Sir Gareth remain with us."

A smile edged Thurston's mouth. "I assure you, madam, I certainly do not wish to interfere in any way with increasing profits."

"Well, that settles that, then." Clare looked relieved. "I suppose we can find room for you and your men."

"Thank you. That is very kind of you, madam."

Gareth recalled something Nicholas of Seabern had aid to him at the spring fair. She'll be grateful when you have. She has no use for a husband.

Nicholas was wrong, Gareth thought. Clare wanted him to stay here on Desire. And not just because she found him useful. She loved him. A joyous elation shot hrough him.

Clare turned eagerly back to Abbess Helen. "My lady, you will no doubt wish to refresh yourself after your long journey. Your chambers are prepared."

"Thank you." Abbess Helen's voice was low and husky. It resonated with quiet power.

Clare glowered at Gareth. "You have not welcomed our lady Abbess properly, my lord."

"Very true." Gareth took the abbess's proffered hand and looked down into the gray eyes that were reflections of his own. "Welcome to Desire, Mother."

Clare stormed up and down the length of her chamber while Eunice attempted to dress her.

"His mother. I cannot believe it, Joanna. Abbess Helen is his lady mother. This is so embarrassing.

How could he do this to me?"

"I suspect Lord Gareth did not want you to know of his relationship to the abbess just yet." Joanna watched as Eunice darted in close to Clare and dropped a saffron-bellow gown over her head.

"Whyever not?" Clare struggled to get her face free of the folds of the gown. It settled into place.

Eunice seized the opportunity. She grabbed the laces and set to work.

"Mayhap because he knew that you held her in such high esteem. He no doubt preferred to win your affections on his own merits."

Clare stared at her. "I had not thought of that. Do you think that was the case?"

"It is a possibility." Joanna rose from the stool and went to the door.

"Do not concern yourself about the evening meal. All is in readiness." She paused, one hand on the knob. "Oh, by the way, Dalian has composed several more verses of his new ballad for the occasion."

Clare smiled in spite of her mood. "More verses featuring the brave, bold, daring Lord Gareth?"

"I believe so. He is eager to perform his poem for the company."

Eunice yanked on Clare's hair with just enough force to make her stand still. Grumbling, Clare allowed her aging servant to tuck her tresses into a gold-threaded net.

"Has Sir Ulrich given any indication of when the prisoners will be set free?" Clare asked.

Joanna sighed. "Nay, he has not. Do not expect Lord Gareth to release those men, Clare. You know very well 'tis not the way such matters are handled. The entire lot deserves to hang, if you ask me."

"Aye, and that's a fact," Eunice muttered.

"When I think of what might have become of you and William," Joanna said, "I feel quite faint all over again." She went out the door and closed it softly behind her.

"Lady Joanna is right." Eunice adjusted the orange and blue girdle around Clare's hips. "Lord Gareth has a reputation for dealing firmly with outlaws and thieves. He'll not show mercy to this vile lot. Nor should he, if ye ask me."

"No one asked you, Eunice."

"Ye think he'll do it for ye, don't ye, my lady? Ye believe he cares enough for ye to grant ye this great boon." Eunice gave her a pitying look as she anchored the glittering net in place with a circlet of silver.

"I warn ye, 'tis too much to expect of any man, especially the Hellhound."

"Mayhap I can persuade his father to reason with him."

"That's a good one, that is." Eunice cackled loudly. "Thurston of Landry will more likely offer to help his son construct the gibbets."

"Then mayhap Abbess Helen can have some influence," Clare suggested hopefully.

"Nay, madam. Twill do no good. This is none of her affair and she'll likely agree with the men that hanging's the proper answer to the problem."

Clare closed her eyes in brief, silent prayer. She seemed to be the only one on the isle who felt that hanging seven men above the flowers of Desire was wrong.

Could no one else see that there had been enough violence already? Could none of them comprehend that the magician's men were just homeless young boys who had taken service with the only knight who had offered it?

And as for the poor bowmen, they were simply unfortunate, masterless men who had been driven to their careers because they had no other way to make their living.

She pictured the horrific scene of seven men hanging over a bed of roses and her stomach recoiled.

A short while later Clare ushered Abbess Helen into the study chamber.

"This is such an exciting event for me, my Lady Abbess. I do so enjoy your rare visits. But I cannot tell you how mortified I am that I did not know you were my husband's mother. I vow he never mentioned the fact to me."

"My son is a rather unusual man, much inclined to keep his own counsel."

Helen glided gracefully over to the bookshelves. Her habit was as magnificently cut and sewn as the most costly of gowns. Her wimple was exquisitely draped to form a perfect frame for her elegant face and crystal eyes. "He does not reveal much of himself to others."

Clare grimaced. "Aye, that is certainly true."

Helen smiled. "I would have you know that I am well pleased with this match, Clare."

"So am I." Clare went to stand by the window. "You know better than most, madam, that I did not particularly wish to marry."

"Aye. But we both knew that you had a duty to do so. You had no choice in the matter."

"You chose your son for me, did you not? It was all your idea, wasn't it?"

"Aye. I wrote to Lord Thurston and suggested that it would be a good match."

"I am honored that you felt I would be a suitable wife for your son,"

Clare whispered.

"You are the only woman I have ever met who could give Gareth what he seeks most."

Clare glanced at her. "What is that?"

"A home of his own."

"Oh."

Helen gave her a speculative look. "I have heard that he has learned to laugh."

"Your son possesses an odd notion of amusement, madam, but he definitely does possess it."

"You have fallen in love with him, have you not?"

"Aye."

"Have you told him?"

"Aye."

"What did he say?"

Clare shrugged. "Nothing. He seemed content with the knowledge."

"But he did not tell you that he loves you, too?"

"Nay."

Helen sighed. "As I said, my son has never been the sort to reveal his feelings to others. I do not know if he will ever be able to do so. You must learn to look beneath the surface if you would know him well."

"I believe I know him very well, madam. But there are some things that must be put into words." She swung around to face Helen. "You may as well know that Gareth and I are involved in what some might term a quarrel."

Helen looked amused. "So I am told. 'Twill be interesting to witness the outcome. My son has never had much practice at losing battles."

"Your mother is as beautiful as ever." Thurston contemplated the magician's toys that Gareth had spread out on the chamber table.

"Uh-huh." Gareth frowned intently over a page in Sir Humphrey's book.

"What do you make of this reference to a machine that is powered by the same mechanism that causes a water clock to function?"

"I have no notion." Thurston glanced down at the page without much interest. "It was all her idea, you know."

"What was?"

"Marrying you off to Lady Clare."

"I assumed as much when I learned that Mother and Clare had formed a long-standing correspondence."

"You seem satisfied with the marriage.".

"Aye." Gareth turned the page.

"She appears quite determined to keep you tied close to home and hearth."

"Aye."

"The, uh, rumors of her loss of virginity at the hands of Sir Nicholas were unfortunate."

"Not that it is any of your affair, sir, but the rumors proved unfounded."

"Ah. I see. Twas not the lady's reputation that concerned me, you know."

"I know what concerned you, sir." Gareth bent closer to study a small drawing. "You feared that I would feel obliged to kill Sir Nicholas and thus deprive you of his services."

"Aye. I'm glad it did not come to that. Nicholas may not be every woman's dream of a chivalrous knight, but he is a good man with a sword and loyal into the bargain.

Such men are all too rare."

"Aye."

"I have heard other rumors," Thurston continued.

"Have you?"

"I am informed that you and your lady are locked in a quarrel concerning the hanging of those men you captured when you retook your hall."

"She would have me set them free. Clare is very softhearted. She is unaccustomed to violence. And its aftermath."

"Women." Thurston sighed. "They simply do not understand such matters."

Gareth met his father's amused gaze. "On that we agree, sir."

And thus did open the Window of Hell.

And into it the wicked magician fell.

Henceforth let all evildoers bewareth the strength and the fury of the mighty Sir Gareth.

Gareth winced. He leaned toward Clare, who, along with everyone else in the crowded hall, was busily cheering the final verses of Dalian's newest song.

"Bewareth Sir Gareth?" he repeated dryly.

"I think it has a nice ring to it." Clare smiled proudly at Dalian, who was flushed with the joys of success. "The only thing wrong with the song as far as I am concerned is the second to the last verse. I do not like the part about the seven men being hung."

Abbess Helen took a bite of an almond'Stuffed fig. "What ending would you prefer, Clare?"

Clare slid Gareth a glance that spoke volumes. "I believe that mighty Sir Gareth should show mercy to the men he captured. Tell me, madam, doesn't the Church encourage that sort of thing?"

"It rather depends on the situation," Helen murmured. "The Church can be remarkably practical about such matters. Furthermore, it teaches the need for justice."

"Aye, but?"

"Enough." Gareth struck the table a resounding blow that set the mugs to rattling.

Every head in the hall turned instantly toward the head table.

Clare jumped. Her spoon clattered back into the bowl in front of her.

"Gareth, really, this is neither the time nor the place?"

"I disagree." Gareth rose ominously to his feet. "It is most definitely the time and the place, lady wife.

We are going to settle this matter here tonight. I will have no more of this unceasing scolding, madam."

Clare glowered up at him. Gareth never appeared small or even medium-sized at the best of times, but towering over her like this he looked absolutely huge. "I am not scolding you, my lord. I never scold."

"On the contrary, you have made yourself a thorn in my side over this matter and I will not tolerate it any longer."

Clare barely restrained herself from throwing the remains of her pottage at him. She glanced quickly at the faces of her guests and was horrified to see that Lord Thurston and Lady Helen appeared to be greatly amused.

"My lord, you are embarrassing me in front of this company," Clare said through her teeth. "Kindly sit down and behave yourself."

Gareth folded his arms across his broad chest. "Not until we have done with this idiocy. Everyone in this hall knows that freeing those seven men is a ludicrous notion. Give me a single sound reason for doing it."

Clare was rapidly losing her temper. "It would be an act of mercy and compassion."

"This is not sufficient reason."

"It would be just the sort of gracious gesture that would do proper honor to the birthday of Saint Hermione."

"Madam, until I came to this isle, I had never even heard of Saint Hermione. I am certainly not going to release those men on her account. Give me another reason."

"To celebrate the visit of your parents?" she tried desperately.

"Nay, that is not sufficient reason."

Clare could not stand it anymore. She leaped to her ' feet. "I ask a favor of you, sir. I vow, Hellhound, if you have the smallest spark of affection in your heart for me, you will show mercy toward those men."

Gareth's eyes were unreadable. "The smallest spark of affection, did you say?"

"Aye," she flung back, goaded beyond endurance. "If you returned even a portion of the love that I have for you, my lord, you would have no difficulty granting me this boon."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Clare wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke. She could not believe she had been such a fool.

Not a single person moved. Even the servants were frozen in place.

"Let me make certain that I comprehend this, madam," Gareth said slowly.

"What you are saying is that if I loved you, I would free those seven men?"

Fool, fool, fool. Glare wondered if she would ever live down this humiliation. But there was no going back. She lifted her chin and looked straight into the smoky depths of Gareth's eyes.

"Aye, my lord. That is exactly what I am saying."

"So be it."

Clare's mouth opened and closed. She gazed at him, uncomprehending. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

Gareth started to smile. "I said, so be it. Those men in the cellar shall be escorted off Desire in the morning. They shall be banished from the isle and the vicinity of Seabern."

Clare could not believe her ears. "You are actually going to do it?

You'll free them? For my sake?"

"As proof of my love for you."

"Oh, Gareth." Clare threw herself into his arms. "You do have a wondrous way of making a grand and gracious gesture. Thank you, my lord."

Gareth caught her close and started to laugh. The great, roaring sound filled the hall and bounced off the ceiling. The guests grinned at one another.

"You really do love me?" Clare's voice was muffled against Gareth's broad chest.

Gareth stopped laughing. He looked down at her, his crystal eyes suddenly so clear that Clare could see all the way to his soul. The truth blazed there in the depths.

"How could I not love you, Clare? You hpld my heart and my future in your hands."

The hall broke into wild, thundering applause as the Hellhound bent his head to kiss his lady wife.

Out of the comer of her eye Clare saw Helen lean slightly toward Thurston. The abbess whispered something. Thurston nodded and smiled with satisfaction.

Lost in the wonder of the moment, Clare felt happiness rise within her.

It flooded her senses, a unique, intoxicating scent that she recognized at once as the perfume of love.