Desire

4

Supper proved to be the perilous performance Clare had feared. Seated at the head table between Gareth and Nicholas, she felt as though she were the acrobat she had seen at last year's harvest fair. Surely the effort of balancing oneself on a taut rope strung between two poles could be no more difficult than attempting to maintain peace in a chamber full of quarrelsome knights.

Not that there had been any open conflict as yet. But Clare could feel the anticipation growing in the hall. It was a direct reflection of the hostility that emanated from the two men seated at the head table.

In an effort to lessen the opportunity for small provocations between Gareth's and Nicholas's men, Clare had seen to it that they were seated on the opposite sides of the long trestle tables. She hoped that the short distance that separated the warriors would prove a useful barrier in the event hostilities broke out.

Violence, if it erupted, would start at the head table, she reminded herself. As long as she controlled Gareth and Nicholas, she would control the entire hall.

It was a daunting task.

"Nay, not more vegetables?" Nicholas looked askance at the array of new dishes that had been set down amid the primroses scattered atop the table. "I vow, you eat more greenery here on Desire than do the hares and deer in my forest."

"We are very fond of fresh vegetables, my lord," Clare said with a determinedly cheerful smile. "Mayhap you would prefer the oysters? The cook does them with almonds and ginger. I'm sure you will enjoy them."

Nicholas lowered his lashes and looked at her with a slumberous gaze.

The expression was no doubt intended to stir fires in her loins, but in reality it made him appear as though he were about to fall asleep at the table. "I will enjoy them all the more if you offer them to me with your own tender fingers, my lady."

Clare gritted her teeth around a frozen smile. It was common enough to offer a special guest a particularly tasty morsel, but she had no intention of honoring Nicholas in that fashion. In the first place, she did not think of him as a special guest. He was, in actual fact, a great nuisance. Clare's second consideration was not knowing how Gareth would react if he believed she was favoring Nicholas.

This was what came of trying to select a husband. Life had once been so peaceful and uncomplicated here on Desire, Clare thought.

"I do not believe I care for any oysters myself, sir," Clare said. "But please take as many as you like. And don't forget the pottage. Cook seasons it with fennel and coriander. It's delicious."

"Aye." Nicholas scooped up a handful of oysters and stuffed them into his mouth. "You always set an excellent table, my lady," he said around the oysters. "And your presence is the tastiest dish of all."

"Thank you." Clare gave him a repressive look,-silently beseeching him to behave. If Nicholas read the plea in her eyes, he gave no indication.

Nicholas was rapidly becoming oblivious to a great many things, she reflected. He got that way after a few tankards of ale.

"But as lovely as you are tonight seated here in your own hall,"

Nicholas continued in a drawling, provocative tone, "I believe I prefer the memory of how you looked when you were seated beside me in Seabern Keep less than a month ago." He paused to swallow more oysters in a single gulp. "I thought at the time that you looked as though you belonged there."

Clare felt Gareth stir silently in the chair to her left. She panicked for a second. Her spoon clattered loudly against the edge of a bowl. " 'Twas a pleasant visit, sir and you were a gracious host. But here is where I belong."

"And here is where you will stay," Gareth said very gently.

Clare glanced at him uneasily from the corner of her eye. She did not like the lethal softness of his tone.

It seemed to her that the more Nicholas taunted and provoked, the softer and more polite Gareth's responses became.

Clare was growing increasingly alarmed by Gareth's chilling politeness.

She wondered if she was the only one in the hall who realized just how dangerous it was. It seemed to her that everyone present ought to be able to see the obvious threat.

Nicholas, thickheaded fool that he was, apparently did not. In fact, Clare thought, Gareth's soft speech seemed to be emboldening him.

It dawned on Clare that Gareth was deliberately baiting Nicholas.

Gareth caught Clare's eye as he used his knife to slice a wedge of mixed-meat tart. He did not quite smile?the man never smiled?but there was that in his expression which suggested this was as close to being amused as he could get.

The Hellhound of Wyckmere was enjoying himself.

Clare wanted to dump the contents of the pottage bowl over his head.

"Mayhap we would all enjoy some music," Clare said firmly. She looked at Dalian, who was sulking at the end of one of the long tables. "Will you give us a cheerful song, Dalian?"

Dalian leaped to his feet and swept her a deep bow. "As my lady commands."

He picked up his harp and began to play a familiar melody. Clare relaxed as she recognized one of her favorite songs. Dalian had composed it for her shortly after his arrival on Desire. It was called "The Key."

My lady's smile doth shine as bright as moon and stars on a summer's night.

Her eyes are emeralds, soft and green,

Her face is as pure as a clear, fresh stream.

Tonight I shall take the key,

The key that she has given to me.

"Aye, aye, the key." Nicholas banged his tankard on the table. "Take the key." He belched.

Clare shuddered.

"Aye, the key." One of Nicholas's burly men, already drunker than his master, rapped his knife against his tankard. "And what will ye do with the key, lad?"

More tankards clashed as the rest of the men from Seabern called encouragement to Dalian. Clare saw Nicholas start to grin. He downed another swallow of ale and then reached for his goblet of wine.

'Tis the key to her chamber that she has given me.

She will welcome me there most graciously.

"Graciously, graciously," one of the men chorused with a hoot of laughter.

'Tis unfair that her lord keeps such a treasure hidden.

I shall risk my life to climb through her window this night.

I shall part her bed curtains and behold the fair sight.

Nicholas slammed the table with his fist, rattling cups and dishes.

"Aye, lad, on to the lady's bed. Tis worth the risk." He leered at Clare.

Clare looked helplessly at Joanna, who in turn glanced uneasily at Ulrich. Ulrich gazed impassively at Gareth, as if waiting for a signal.

Her thighs are alabaster columns, round and smooth.

When I lay between them I shall see

The golden door that awaits my key.

"Aye, aye, the key." Nicholas roared.

Out of the corner of her eye Clare saw Gareth pick up one of the delicate yellow primroses that decorated her table. The blossom looked small and extremely fragile in his large hand. Slowly he began to stroke the petals.

Clare held her breath.

Another shout went up from the men seated below the head table. Clare pulled her fascinated gaze away from the sight of the primrose cradled in Gareth's hand.

She tried to signal Dalian to stop singing, but he pretended not to notice her attempt to gain his attention. He strummed his harp with grim defiance.

Nicholas sprawled in his chair. "You appear bored, Hellhound. What's the matter? Don't you care for the minstrel's song?"

"Nay." Gareth continued to stroke the petals of the j primrose, apparently intrigued by their delicacy.

Clare shot to her feet. She fixed Dalian with a pointed look. "Master minstrel, I would prefer another song, if you do not mind. Mayhap the lovely one you wrote about the flowers of spring."

"But 'The Key' is one of your favorites, my lady," Dalian protested.

"Aye, but tonight I would like to hear another of my favorites."

For an instant she thought Dalian was going to refuse. But he finally nodded brusquely and began to pluck a different tune, one that featured flowers.

Clare sighed with relief, sat down, and quickly signaled Eadgar to send out more food and ale.

The marshal moved with astonishing alacrity for a man afflicted with stiff joints. It was clear that he, too, had sensed impending doom and was eager to do his part to avoid it.

Joanna visibly relaxed. Clare saw her smile weakly at Ulrich, who gallantly offered her a morsel from his plate. To Clare's amazement, Joanna blushed prettily and took the preferred bite.

Nicholas's mouth turned down in a sullen fashion, rather like that of a boy bent on mischief who has seen his teasing game halted before the jest has been played.

Gareth set the primrose aside and calmly picked up his wine goblet as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "I am well pleased with your minstrel's new song, madam."

"I am very glad to learn that, sir." Clare gave him an irritated smile.

Her manners were wearing thin. She was thoroughly annoyed with Gareth, just as she was with Nicholas, and she did not particularly care if he knew it. "I certainly would not want any of the guests in my household to have cause to be displeased with the entertainment."

Nicholas slammed his goblet down on the table. "Well, I do not much care for the new song. All that nonsense about spring flowers is dull and boring."

"Do you find it so?" Gareth glanced at him very casually. "Mayhap you lack the wit to enjoy the more refined aspects of the verses."

Nicholas glowered at him. "Are you saying I lack wit?"

"Aye. 'Twas no doubt one of the reasons Lady Clare sought other suitors.

She has stated quite clearly that she desires a husband who is both clever and well educated."

Nicholas flushed with fury. A reckless glitter lit his eyes. "I'll wager Lady Clare prefers the other song. Is that not right, madam?"

Clare tried to think of an excuse to end the evening and send everyone off to bed. She wished someone would do her a favor and raise the alarm for fire or siege.

"I take pleasure in all types of music." Desperately she sought a distraction. "Would you please pass me the bowl of figs, Sir Nicholas?"

"Certainly." Nicholas smiled slowly. "Allow me to choose a fig for you."

Instead of handing her the bowl, he reached into it with his short, broad fingers and plucked out one of the figs. He dipped the dried fruit into a dish of cinnamon and honey and held the morsel to Clare's lips.

She stared at the dirt under Nicholas's nails and tried to think. She was intensely aware of Gareth watching the small scene, a deceptively neutral expression in his eyes.

The whole situation was getting ridiculous, she thought angrily. This was her hall and she was in command here. She refused to surrender it to either of these large, overbearing males.

She smiled coolly at Nicholas and removed the fig from his hand. She set the dried fruit down on her plate without taking a single bite.

"I have changed my mind. I believe I have eaten enough this evening," she said.

"You disappoint me, lady," Nicholas said. "Why, when you stayed with me at Seabern last month, your appetite was much keener." He paused to leer. "And not just for figs."

Clare experienced a distinct chill. "I do not recall."

"Ah, but I do," Nicholas said. "How could I forget those enticing meals we shared? I confess that my fondest memories are of how very pleased you were when I satisfied your extremely delightful appetites.

I trust you have not forgotten your sweet satisfaction?"

"You tease me, Sir Nicholas," Clare said. Foreboding, dark and disquieting, stole over her. She was rapidly losing all hope of staving off disaster. "I would have you cease at once. I do not find it amusing."

"Nay?" Nicholas watched her, but it was obvious his real attention was on Gareth. He was weighing each goading word he spoke, pushing a little harder, searching for the point where blood could be drawn. "I am devastated to learn that, madam. I certainly found you to be most entertaining. Indeed, I eagerly await your return to Seabern so that we may again satisfy our appetites together."

The implication of Nicholas's words were clear to all who heard them.

Joanna toyed nervously with her spoon. Ulrich gazed at Gareth in stone-cold silence.

Gareth helped himself to a fig. He said nothing. "I wish to discuss something else." Clare realized her voice was starting to rise.

"But I prefer to reminisce about the meals we have shared." Nicholas took back the honeyed fig Clare had placed on her plate. He sucked on it and then made loud smacking noises. "They were so very pleasurable."

Gareth lounged in his chair. "Lady Clare has requested that the topic of conversation be changed. She does not find it amusing. Nor do I."

Nicholas chuckled. "Do you think I care whether or not you find it amusing?"

" Tis the lady's wishes that concern me. They should be a matter of some concern to you, too."

Clare's heart sank. The situation was worsening rapidly. Mayhap if she could get both men sufficiently drunk, they would both fall into stupors. "Would either of you care for more wine?"

Nicholas ignored her. He kept his narrowed gaze on Gareth. "Do you believe that you can please the lady better than I, Hellhound?"

"Aye."

"Tis highly doubtful, if you ask me. Why would she give the key to her chamber to a bastard after she has known the touch of a well-born knight?"

A shocked silence fell like molten lead on the hall. Clare saw Joanna's eyes widen in horror at the insult. Ulrich sat grim-faced beside her.

Dalian fumbled with the strings of his harp. He ceased playing and jumped to his feet. He glanced wildly around the hall, as though seeking a place to hide.

Eadgar paused in the doorway, a fresh flask of wine in his hand, and gazed helplessly at Clare.

Clare found her voice. "That is quite enough, Sir Nicholas. I believe you are drunk."

"Not too drunk to know what he's doing," Gareth said softly.

"Agreed." Nicholas's eyes glittered. "But what of you, Hellhound? Do you still have your wits about you?"

"Aye. I keep them about me at all times. You would do well to remember that."

"Lady Clare appears to have a problem deciding which of us will make her the better husband." Nicholas's booming voice rang through the silent hall. "I propose that we resolve the matter for her. Here and now."

"How?" Gareth asked gently. "Shall we play a game of chess for the hand of the lady of Desire? Very well, I suppose that is a reasonable enough solution."

Clare was so outraged she momentarily forgot about the impending disaster. "A game of chess? For my hand? How dare you, sir?"

Nicholas smiled malevolently. "Aye, how dare you, Hellhound? Most unchivalrous."

"I suppose there is no possibility of a fair match," Gareth conceded.

"Chess is a game that requires wit and intelligence from both players.

Sir Nicholas would be at a great disadvantage."

"By the devil, this is not a matter of wits," Nicholas snarled. "You insult the lady by suggesting we play a game of chess for her hand."

Clare closed her eyes briefly and sent up a frantic prayer to Saint Hermione.

"What game do you suggest that we play?' Gareth asked.

"Trial by combat. Here and now."

"Agreed." Gareth appeared no more concerned about that suggestion than he had about the first one. "You may choose the weapons."

Clare leaped to her feet again. "I have had enough of this idiocy."

Everyone stared at her.

She planted both hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking and swept the hall with furious eyes. "Hear me, all you who eat and drink at my board tonight. Know that I have had my fill of this foolish business of selecting a husband. Thurston of Landry has promised me that I can make my own choice.

I will do so now and put an end to the matter."

A rustle and murmur of interest went through the hall. Men whispered to their neighbors, eager to place hasty wagers on the outcome of this new turn of events.

"My bold and noble suitors wish to play games," Clare said with scathing emphasis. "Very well, a game it shall be. But I shall choose the sport and I shall be the only player."

Gareth's smoky crystalline eyes never left Clare's face.

Nicholas smirked.

"It seems that I must choose between Sir Gareth of Wyckmere and Sir Nicholas of Seabern." Clare gestured toward each man in turn. "Was ever a woman so fortunate in her suitors?"

There were roars of approval from the crowd in the hall. No one seemed to notice the sarcasm in Clare's voice.

She snatched up one of the yellow primroses and held the bloom aloft in front of her so that all could see it. "I shall pluck the petals from this flower. As I do so, I will call out, by turns, the names of each of these fine, chivalrous knights who would be lord of Desire. By my oath, I will wed the man whose name I call out last."

Nicholas's smile vanished. "God's eyes, Clare, you cannot mean to make such an important choice in such a haphazard manner."

She glared at him. "'Tis no more haphazard and a good deal less bloody than the trial by combat which you proposed, Sir Nicholas."

"Hellfire," Gareth muttered. "Do you know what you're doing, lady?"

"Aye." Clare did not give anyone else time to interfere. She plucked the first petal from the primrose.

"Sir Gareth."

A stir of excitement went through the crowd. More wagers were placed.

Gareth's gaze shifted to the primrose. He studied it intently for a few seconds and then he sat back in his chair with an expression of quiet satisfaction.

"Sir Nicholas." Clare tore off another petal and let it flutter to the table.

Nicholas scowled at the flower. "This is an idiotic way to select a husband."

"When one has been given a choice between idiots, one uses an idiotic method of selection." Clare smiled sweetly and ripped off another petal.

"Sir Gareth."

There were only two petals left on the primrose. Clare plucked the next to the last one. "Sir Nicholas."

Hisses of dismay mingled with shouts of triumph as the crowd realized who the winner would be.

Clare held up the primrose to display the single remaining petal. She tore it ruthlessly from the stalk.

"Sir Gareth of Wyckmere."

A thundering din arose from the hall as the diners pounded their tankards on the tables.

Nicholas's face contorted with fury. "Damn it to the pit, woman, what do you think you're doing?"

"Choosing the new lord of this manor." Clare swung around with a flourish and handed Gareth the denuded primrose. "Welcome, my lord. I trust you will be content with what you have gained."

Gareth took the naked stalk and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Aye, my lady." His eyes gleamed.

"I am well content."

"God's blood," Nicholas surged to his feet. "I am far from satisfied.

You cannot choose a husband in this fashion."

"Tis done. I have made my selection, as I was commanded to do by Thurston of Landry." Clare stepped back from the table. "And now you must excuse me. I am going to my bedchamber. I find myself much wearied by the excitement."

"God's blood," shouted Nicholas. "I'll not stand for this."

"You, sir, have nothing more to say about the matter." Clare raised her chin. "As it is too late for you to return to Seabern, you are welcome to stay the night. Arrangements have been made."

She picked up her skirts and started around the table. Joanna rose quickly to join her.

Clare was aware of everyone watching her as she crossed the room to the tower stairs. She paused on the first step and looked back toward the head table, where Nicholas and Gareth sat.

"Before I take my leave, sirs, I have one more thing to say." She met Gareth's eyes. "Know this, my future lord. There has never been violence here on this isle. I will not tolerate any tonight. Is that understood?"

"Aye, my lady," Gareth said softly.

"If blood is shed in this hall before morning," Clare continued through set teeth, "I vow, I will take the veil rather than wed you or any other man."

More whispers of wonder and speculation washed over the crowd. Nicholas looked suddenly sly.

Clare glanced disdainfully at Nicholas and then she returned her attention to Gareth. "And lest both of you decide that you would be better off without me to contend with, remember that if I enter a nunnery, I will not go empty-handed. I shall take all the secrets of my perfume recipes with me. They will be my dowry to the convent."

Another hushed silence fell on the hall as the impact of that statement made itself felt. There was not a soul on the isle who was not aware that the revenues from Desire were based on Clare's perfume recipes.

Without them the fields of flowers and herbs were useless.

Satisfied that she had made her point, Clare smiled grimly at Gareth.

"Your first task, Sir Gareth, is to keep the peace in this hall. If you would enjoy future profits from my perfumes, you must accomplish the business without drawing blood. I bid you good night."

She picked up an oil lamp that was burning on a nearby table, whirled about, and rushed up the narrow, twisting stairs. Joanna followed at her heels.

"Dear heaven, how could you make your choice in such a whimsical manner?" Joanna gasped as she flew up the steps in Clare's wake. "What if the winner had been Sir Nicholas? You despise him after what happened last month. You said yourself that you would rather marry almost any man than him."

"There was no way that Sir Nicholas could have been the winner. I knew who would be the new lord of Desire before I pulled the first petal off the flower." Clare reached the upper floor and stalked down the corridor to her bedchamber. "There are only five petals on a primrose, after all."

"But how did you know which name would be called out last?" Joanna's brow cleared. "Oh, I see. You had counted the petals and reasoned it out before you started."

"Aye." Clare opened the heavy wooden door of her chamber. She went inside, set the lamp down on a table, and walked to the window. She took a deep, calming breath of the perfumed darkness. "I knew the answer. Indeed, I knew it hours ago."

Joanna watched her closely. "Then why did you stage the fine performance with the primrose?"

Clare tapped one finger against the windowsill. "I was furious with both men but most especially with Sir Gareth. Nicholas is, to be blunt, simply Nicholas. He hasn't the wit to be anything other than obnoxious."

"And Sir Gareth?"

Clare's mouth tightened. "Sir Gareth most certainly possesses a high degree of intelligence and common sense. It angered me that he was willing to resort to intimidation and violence to gain his ends."

Joanna frowned. "Do you think that was what he was doing?"

"Aye. Did you not see the way he toyed with the flower while Dalian played 'The Key'?"

"Twas merely a flower, Clare. What made you deem the gesture intimidating?"

"I cannot explain it. Twas something about the manner in which he stroked the petals that alarmed me." Clare gazed out at the moonlit sea.

"He was telling me quite clearly that he could be gentle or he could be dangerous. He wanted me to know that the choice was mine."

Joanna stared at her. "Do you really believe that was his intent?"

"I believe that he has created a very nasty reputation for himself and is not above using it on occasion.

He is a practical man, no doubt given to expediency. If he is to be the lord of this manor, he must learn that we do things differently here. I want no violence on Desire."

"He is a man who is very familiar with violence, Clare. Tis likely natural for him to use violent methods when he deems it necessary."

"Aye, he will use them if need be." Clare hesitated. "But I do not believe that he takes pleasure in violence. At least, he has assured me that he does not. That is his saving grace. If we get through this night without a brawl downstairs, I shall have cause to hope that I have made the right choice."

Two hours later Ulrich heaved a sigh of relief and grinned at Gareth.

"My congratulations on your successful completion of your first task as lord of this manor."

"Thank you."

"I confess I was not certain we would get through the evening without a bit of bloodshed. But as always, you proved as swift with your wits as you are with the Window of Hell."

"Twas not difficult to persuade Nicholas and his men to drink themselves into oblivion. They were already halfway there when my lady quit the hall." Gareth prowled his chamber with a restlessness that was unusual for him. "You have assigned the guards?"

"Aye. If any of Nicholas's men awake before dawn, he will be given another cup of wine."

"And Nicholas?"

"Fast asleep as a newborn babe, thanks to his efforts to defeat you in the contest to see who could down the most wine." Ulrich chuckled.

"Speaking of that bloodless tour-nament you staged with your rival, I have a question."

"Aye?"

"What did you do with all the wine that you were supposedly downing?"

"I poured it into the rushes beneath the table whenever Nicholas turned his head."

"I thought as much." Ulrich's mouth turned down wryly. "The hall will not be a pretty sight tomorrow morning when Lady Clare's guests awake with splitting headaches and heaving stomachs, but there will be no bloodshed tonight."

"And that is the important thing." Gareth felt the odd tugging sensation around the corners of his mouth. He almost smiled. "My lady's wishes will be carried out insofar as possible until she is safely wed to me.

I would not want her to think that she made the wrong choice."

"You are surprisingly pleased with yourself for a man whose destiny was recently linked to the fragile petals of a flower and a woman's whim."

"It is not the first time that my future has been decided by fortune and fate. I doubt it will be the last."

"I thought you would be as enraged as Nicholas was when you saw the method Lady Clare intended to use to make her choice."

Gareth halted in front of the window. He braced a hand against the stone sill. "I knew I would win the contest as soon as she plucked the first petal and called my name. More to the point, so did she. Given her knowledge of flowers, 'tis certain that she knew the answer before she began."

Ulrich frowned. "How do you know that?"

Gareth remembered the primrose he had examined while Dalian defiantly played the bawdy ballad. "There are only five petals on yellow primroses. Or at least there were only five on the flowers that were scattered about on the table tonight."

"Ah." Ulrich smiled. "I take your meaning. Given the uneven number of petals, it was inevitable that whichever name Lady Clare started with, that name would be the one she called out last."

"Aye."

"Why do you think she went to the trouble of acting out the small play?

Why not merely announce that you were her choice and be done with it?"

Gareth gave in to the smile that hovered at the edge of his mouth. "She finds me arrogant. I believe that she was attempting to teach me a lesson."

"A lesson?"

"She wanted me to think that as far as she was concerned, there was little difference between Sir Nicholas and myself. It was her way of letting me know that I have yet to prove to her that I am the better choice."

Ulrich eyed Gareth's curved mouth with great caution. "You are amused by this?"

Gareth considered the matter more closely. "I believe I am."

Ulrich swore. "I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have seen you amused."

"You exaggerate."

"Nay, my memory is clear because on each occasion you came within a hair's breadth of getting us both killed."