Desire

5

Clare held her tiny scented pomander to her nose as she gingerly made her way through the ruin of her main hall the next morning.

Even the fragrant herbs that had been scattered amid the rushes could not disguise the odor of brimming chamber pots, spilled wine, and stale bodies.

It would take hours to get the hall cleaned. Fresh rushes would have to be put down before the chamber was habitable. Clare wrinkled her nose in dismay. The servants could not even begin the task of sweeping out the hall until the sleeping men, who were sprawled everywhere, were removed.

She picked her way among the pallets, ignoring the snores of her guests, and managed to reach the front steps without getting ill. The young guard who stood there nodded respectfully.

"Good morning, my lady."

"Good morning." Clare dropped the pomander to let it dangle from her girdle. "You're one of Sir Gareth's men, aren't you?"

"Aye, my lady. My name is Ranulf."

"How is it that you look clear-eyed this morning, Ranulf? The others appear to be sleeping so soundly that it will likely take the crack of doom to awaken them."

Ranulf smiled. "The men who are still asleep in the hall are all in Sir Nicholas's employ. You may be certain that those of us who follow Sir Gareth are awake and at our assigned tasks. Most are in the stables at the moment."

"What makes Sir Gareth's men immune to the effects of too much wine and ale?"

Ranulf chuckled. "The Hellhound forbids any man in his service to drink so deeply that he cannot rise betimes in the morning and perform his duties."

Clare approved of the rule, but RanulPs words aroused a sudden new concern. "Sir Gareth is a harsh master?"

Ranulf stared at her in astonishment. "Nay, madam. He is a most just and honorable knight. I meant only that he does not tolerate disobedience or laziness from those who serve him. He says such things can get others killed."

Clare relaxed slightly. The guard appeared sincere. "I could not tolerate a harsh master for this manor, no matter how intelligent he happened to be," she said under her breath.

Better a fool such as Nicholas than a clever but vicious man.

"I pray your pardon, my lady?"

"Nothing." She smiled at Ranulf. "I trust there were no serious problems last night?"

Ranulf blinked. He seemed momentarily dazzled by her smile. He blushed furiously. "Nay, my lady."

"No one was hurt?"

"I belive Sir Ulrich may have used a tankard on one or two thick skulls when the wine failed to take effect, but no one was seriously injured.

Sir Gareth gave strict instructions that there was to be no bloodshed."

Ranulf shrugged. "So none was shed."

Clare was pleased that Gareth had harkened to her orders. It boded well for the future. "Am I right to conclude that Sir Gareth deliberately got Nicholas and his men drunk?"

"Aye, my lady. He said it was the easiest way to deal with the matter."

"Very clever." Clare smiled more broadly. Her smile turned into a chuckle as she recalled the very similar tactics she had used to deal with Nicholas during the precarious nights at Seabern. "Sir Gareth appears to be every bit as shrewd as I believed him to be."

Ranulf grinned proudly. " 'Twas merely a hall full of feasting men, my lady. Hardly a difficult battle for the Hellhound of Wyckmere. You should have seen him deal with the pack of murderous robbers who were laying waste to Galtonsea last fall. Now, there was a sight to behold.

Sir Gareth had us set a trap and when the cutthroats fell into it we?"

"I'm sure it was all very exciting," Clare interrupted quickly. The last thing she wanted to hear about this morning was Gareth's more bloodthirsty skills. She wanted to suppress the realization that she was to marry a man who had, until recently, made his living in a violent manner.

Dalian emerged from the kitchens on the other side of the courtyard. He was munching on a large wedge of freshly baked bread.

"My lady," he called when he caught sight of Clare.

He shoved the last of his bread into his mouth and hurried toward her."I bid you good day."

"Good day to you, Dalian. I pray you will not choke on your morning meal."

"Nay, my lady." Dalian swallowed hastily and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic. "I trust that you slept well last night?"

"Aye, thank you."

" Tis a wonder." Dalian frowned darkly. "I thank the saints that you were not kept from your rest by the dreadful events which took place in your hall after you left."

Clare raised her brows. "I did not think that anything dreadful occurred. The hall is in an unpleasant condition this morning, but that is only to be expected with so many guests scattered about."

Dalian's thin face assumed a grave expression. "Twas a scene that would have shocked and horrified a lady as refined and gracious as yourself.

Aye, it was a sight that could have come straight from the depths of hell."

Clare frowned. "Come, now, it cannot have been that bad."

"You were not there, madam, saints be praised." Dalian straightened his thin shoulders. His eyes flashed with indignation. "Need I remind you that the awful events of last night were presided over by the Hellhound himself?"

"What's this, minstrel?" Gareth asked casually as he walked out onto the steps to stand behind Clare. "Carrying tales so early in the day? One would think that you could find more useful employment to occupy your time."

Dalian started and took a step back. His fingers twitched in agitation.

Then he recovered himself, scowled resentfully, and turned to Clare. "I pray you will excuse me, my lady."

"Yes, of course," Clare murmured.

She watched Dalian hasten away and mentally composed herself to face the man who would soon be her husband.

Her husband. The thought made her feel light-headed.

"Good day to you, madam," Gareth said.

"Good day, sir." Clare fixed a smile in place and turned to greet him.

Although she thought that she had prepared herself, she realized she was nonetheless a little breathless.

After her conversation with young Ranulf, it did not surprise her that Gareth's eyes showed no trace of an evening spent drinking Nicholas into the rushes. She suspected most of the Hellhound's wine had, in fact, gone under the table along with Nicholas and his men. That was certainly where hers had gone during that first, dangerous evening when she had found herself a virtual prisoner in Seabem Keep.

She had escaped Nicholas that night after encouraging him to drink his fill. Then she had rushed upstairs to a tower chamber and locked herself inside.

Clare had spent the next three days there, ignoring Nicholas's rage, his threats, and the pounding on the door. She had managed to free herself one afternoon when, frustrated by his failure to convince Clare that she must wed him, Nicholas had gone hunting.

It occurred to Clare now that if her captor had been the Hellhound, she likely would not have escaped.

Gareth looked even larger this morning than she had remembered. The strong, sleek power that he exuded was as much a part of him as his intelligence and his determination. Clare had a fleeting wish that her father and brother had lived to meet him.

But, she reminded herself, if her father and brother had still been alive, she would likely never have met Gareth of Wyckmere herself, let alone contracted a marriage to him. She would never have sought him out as a husband and Gareth would not have been interested in her because she would not have been an heiress.

Life played odd tricks on a woman.

Gareth had on a gray tunic over his undertunic, which was the color of charcoal. Although he wore no armor this morning, the Window of Hell was at his side, secure in its scabbard. The crystal pommel mirrored its master's eyes. Clare got the impression that the sword was as much a part of Gareth's daily attire as his boots and tunic.

His gaze was thoughtful as he watched Dalian scurry away. "Your minstrel and I are going to have to have a long talk."

"Dalian means no harm, sir. He is merely concerned on my behalf." Clare frowned. "I trust you will not make a practice of frightening the members of my household?"

"It won't hurt your pet poet to learn a few manners. He is not merely protective of you, madam. I believe he is jealous."

"Jealous." Clare's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Aye. 'Tis not difficult to comprehend."

Clare blushed. "Thank you, sir, but in truth I have had little experience with jealous men."

"'Tis not an uncommon malady. Many men fall victim to the fever when they are Dalian's age."

"The fever?"

"Love sickness. The symptoms are easily recognized. When the disease strikes, young males become overly earnest and passionate, determined to worship the very hem of their beloved's gown."

"I see."

"Dalian has obviously devoted himself to your service with the whole of his pure young heart and he does not wish to share your attentions."

"Are you certain? I hadn't realized his feelings were of such an intense nature."

Gareth shrugged. "As I said, 'tis a common enough jroblem in boys his age. Tis nothing he will not outgrow."

Clare crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Tell me, sir, were you ever prey to the sort of fever you describe?"

"There was a brief time in my life during which I succumbed to the hellfires of unrequited passion. But that was long ago." Gareth's eyes gleamed. "I decided there was no profit in it and soon wearied of the pangs. I have no talent for worshiping a lady from afar."

"A pity." Clare did not want to admit it to herself, but he truth was that Gareth's easy dismissal of gallant love and pure passion was disheartening. She must remember that this marriage was as much a matter of business for him is it was for her.

"I trust you do not expect me to fall ill with love sickness at my age,"

Gareth said softly.

Clare looked into his crystal eyes and realized with a sense of startled wonder that he was once again amused, the knowledge did much to lift her flagging spirits. Gareth was a man of well-concealed emotions, but at least he assessed some. Yesterday she had not been entirely certain of that.

She reminded herself that she had never expected to gain a passionate lover in this marriage. All she could hope or was a husband who would make an intelligent friend and companion.

She needed time.

She cleared her throat and decided to seize the?pportunity. "Although you speak in jest, Sir Gareth, I would?"

"Never, madam."

She blinked in confusion. "I pray your pardon?"

"I merely said that I never speak in jest."

She brushed that aside. "Nonsense, of course you do. however, your last comment raises a rather delicate issue, one that I wish to address before our marriage takes place."

"Later, if you do not object. There are one or two matters I must deal with before Nicholas and his men awake." Gareth glanced across the courtyard and raised a hand to catch Ulrich's attention.

"But Sir Gareth, the matter I wish to speak to you about is quite important."

"So is sweeping out the refuse from your hall."

Clare was distracted by that remark. "Well, that is certainly true. Do you propose to take charge of the task?"

"How could I do anything less? I am the one who caused the mess."

She swallowed a smile. "Aye, so you are. But under the circumstances, I am prepared to overlook the matter."

"You are indeed a most gracious and generous lady."

"I am pleased that you think as much." She frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose our discussion can wait. Mayhap you will be free sometime this afternoon?"

"I am always available to you, madam."

"Except when you are in the process of cleaning out a hall?"

"Aye."

A groom chose that moment to lead one of the massive war-horses across the courtyard. The animal's steel-shod feet rang on the stones. The horse and groom were followed by a clattering cart full of hay.

A pained groan sounded from just inside the hall.

"In the name of the devil and all his minions, what is all that damnable noise?" Nicholas lurched into view from the shadowed doorway behind Gareth. He absently scratched the stubble on his cheeks as he peered, bleary-eyed, into the courtyard. "Oh, it's you, Clare."

Clare tried to ignore the stench that emanated from him. "Good day to you, sir."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed."

She scowled. "You appear ill."

"I am." Nicholas winced. "My head feels as if some fool used it for quintain practice."

"Do not expect sympathy from me," Clare said. "After your extremely annoying behavior last night, you do not deserve any pity."

Nicholas gave Gareth a beseeching look. "You have won the lady's hand.

She's all yours with my blessing. The least you can do is protect me from the sharp edge of her tongue."

Gareth glanced at Clare. "Lady Clare was just about to take a brisk walk along the cliffs."

"I was?" Clare gazed at him in astonishment.

"I think it would be for the best," Gareth said. "By the time you return, your hall will be swept clean."

Clare hesitated. "Mayhap a walk is not such a bad notion. I often take one in the mornings. As it happens, I have an errand in the village."

She brightened. "I'll just run upstairs and fetch an item that I promised to take to Beatrice the recluse. I pray you will both excuse me, sirs."

"Aye," Nicholas muttered. "You're excused. Good riddance."

Clare glowered at him as she went past. "Really, Sir Nicholas, you should be ashamed of yourself for the way you acted last night."

"I pray you will read me no lectures," Nicholas said. "This sore skull of mine is punishment enough for any offense I may have committed last night. You are welcome to your Hellhound if he is, indeed, your choice."

"He is no longer the Hellhound of Wyckmere," Clare said forcefully. "On the morrow he will become Gareth, lord of Desire, and I would have you show him proper respect."

Gareth raised one brow and watched Clare with mild curiosity, as if she were an odd and unfamiliar creature.

Nicholas cradled his head between his hands. "I will call him by any name you wish, if you will cease screeching, lady."

"I am not screeching." Clare stepped around him and went toward the tower stairs.

" 'Tis a matter of opinion."

Clare ignored him. But halfway up the curving staircase, she realized that she had forgotten to inquire as to whether or not Nicholas intended to stay for the wedding. If he and his men were going to spend another night under her roof, she would have to alert poor Eadgar.

Lifting the skirts of her gown, she hurried back down the stone steps.

She evaded a snoring man who had slid halfway off his pallet into the stinking rushes, and crossed the shadowed hall to the main entrance.

Gareth and Nicholas still stood talking quietly in the doorway. Neither man noticed her as she came to a halt at the sound of her own name.

"Nay, by all that's holy, I have no desire to stay another day to see lady Clare wed," Nicholas said.

"She's yours and I wish you joy of her."

"That is generous of you under the circumstances," Gareth said.

"Tis true that she brings a fine, fat manor as her dowry. I felt obliged to try to get my hands on it, but to be honest, I'm not sorry I lost to you. The man who takes Clare as wife will pay a high price. You'll discover that soon enough."

" Tis no concern of yours," Gareth said.

"Aye, and I confess that this morning I am eternally grateful for that."

Nicholas rubbed his temples.

"God save me from clever women."

"Rest assured that you have been saved from this particular woman."

"The difficulty is that she's had the running of this manor ever since she was a young girl," Nicholas complained. "She's grown far too accustomed to command. I warn you, Hellhound, she'll not tolerate any man's hand on the reins."

"Mayhap that will depend upon the man who lays hold of those reins."

"Nay, you do not know what you're getting into." Nicholas heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I concocted a shrewd plan for managing her, you know."

"Did you?"

"Aye, and being the generous man that I am, I'll give you the advice I had intended to take myself."

"What's that?"

"Once you've got her well and truly wed, bed her day and night until you've planted your seed. When you're certain that she is with child, you can leave the isle."

"Leave?" Gareth sounded curious.

"Why not? Let her stay here to see to the running of Desire. Tis what she's good at. You can spend most of the year somewhere out of range of her tongue."

There was a short pause.

"That was your brilliant scheme for dealing with Lady Clare?" Gareth finally inquired. "Get her with child and then leave the isle?"

"Aye, and it would have worked, too. If you've got half the wit they say you have, Hellhound, you'll heed my advice."

Nicholas's words hurt. Clare tired to ignore the pain and embarrassment they caused, but it was impossible. She took a step closer to the entrance.

"You are even more of a fool than I believed you to be, Nicholas,"

Gareth said quietly.

Clare brightened a little. It was nice to be defended by her future lord.

"Bah. We'll see how much of a fool I am after you've had a chance to get better acquainted with Clare," Nicholas grumbled. "Do not expect me to offer you shelter at Seabern whenever you've had enough of the little harpy's tongue."

"Seabern Keep is the last place I will go to seek refuge from my wife."

"You may suit yourself." Nicholas started to turn back into the hall.

"If you have no objection, I'll rouse my men and we'll be on our way. I wish to God I did not have to face that boat trip back to Seabern."

"There is just one more thing before you leave."

"Aye?" Nicholas paused. "And what would that be?"

"It has to do with that visit that Clare made to Seabern Keep a month ago."

"What about it?"

"I am well aware of the true circumstances of her stay there. I know that you held her against her will."

" Twas merely a friendly visit. Ask the lady yourself."

"It was kidnapping, so far as I'm concerned. And make no mistake, Nicholas, there will be a reckoning."

Clare froze.

"God's eyes, man." Nicholas sounded genuinely taken aback. "You don't mean to say that you intend to challenge me because of that visit?"

"Not today. Clare does not want any violence on Desire and I am of a mind to indulge her for the present. But there will come a time and a place when you and I will settle the matter."

"But nothing happened," Nicholas exploded. "I never touched the lady."

"That was not the impression you gave last night."

"I gave out that impression because I hoped you might decide to quit the field if you believed it to be the truth. I knew it was my only chance. I was drunk at the time, if you will recall. 'Twas the wisdom of the wine."

"You cannot expect me to believe that you kidnapped Clare, kept her for four days at Seabern, and did not touch her."

"You don't know much about Clare yet, do your Nicholas retorted. "Devil take it, why am I standing here arguing with you? You'll learn the truth tomorrow night when you claim your bride."

"Aye," Gareth said. "I will." The tone of his voice made it clear that he did not expect to find that his bride was a virgin.

Clare was speechless. Nicholas's earlier words had hurt, but Gareth's calm assumption that she had been dishonored enraged her. He had not even had the grace to ask her for the truth. He had simply accepted the gossip of others as the final verdict.

Her cheeks burned and her stomach clenched. She had never expected much from Nicholas, but she had begun to believe that Gareth was a man of reason and some courtesy. Obviously she had been mistaken.

Clare stalked out of the shadowed hall and onto the sunlit steps.

Gareth glanced at her. "I thought you were fetching something from your chamber."

"I overheard every word." Clare ignored Nicholas and fixed Gareth with a steely gaze. "Sir Nicholas speaks the truth when he says that he did not dishonor me while I was at Seabern."

"Does he?"

"Aye, he does," Clare said very loudly.

Nicholas winced. "Pray, madam, have some consideration for my poor head."

Clare spun around to confront him. "By Saint Hermione's little finger, will you cease prattling on about your aching skull, sir? I do not care if your head falls off your shoulders and rolls down the road."

Nicholas cringed and made for the door. "I shall leave you two to continue this delightful conversation without me. I am going home to Seabern. When I arrive there, I shall go straight to the chapel and thank the saints for sparing me from this match."

"Aye, you do that, Sir Nicholas." Clare was more incensed than ever by his cowardly departure. "Would that I could also be spared. I am very well aware that it was only my lands and perfume recipes that attracted the attention of two such noble and chivalrous knights as yourself and Sir Gareth."

Nicholas groaned and clapped his hands over his ears.

"Lady Clare," Gareth said gently, "mayhap it would be best if we conducted this discussion in a more private place."

She turned on him. "I care not who hears me. Everyone on this isle knows I spent four days at Seabern Keep. Tis no great secret."

Gareth's gaze was contemplative. "Aye, madam."

"I do not expect passion and devotion from you sir, but I do expect that you will believe me when I give you my oath. And I swear to you now that Sir Nicholas did not share my bed while I was at Seabern."

"Your virginity or lack of it has no bearing on our marriage," Gareth said soothingly. "I knew about your stay at Seabern before I came to this manor."

"And you suspected the worst, did you not?"

"'Tis only logical to assume that Nicholas took you while you were at his keep in an effort to force you to marry him."

"Why? Because you would have done so, had you been in his position?"

"Calm yourself," Gareth said. "You are growing agitated."

"Am I? How unfortunate." Clare wanted to scream with frustration. "You have my most solemn vow of honor, sir, that I have never lain with Nicholas of Seabern."

"There is no need to proclaim your virtue to the world." Gareth cast a meaningful glance around the bustling courtyard. "I shall have proof of your words tomorrow night, will I not?"

"Nay, you will not," Clare said through her teeth.

A shocked silence settled on everyone in the immediate vicinity. The groom who had been leading the war-horse across the courtyard jerked the lead and caused the big stallion to rear.

Gareth studied Clare with unreadable eyes. "What does that mean, madam?"

"It means, sir, that I have absolutely no intention of giving you proof of anything, least of all of my virtue." Clare's hands clenched at her sides. "And that, sir, brings me to the subject I told you I wished to discuss with you this afternoon. We may as well have the conversation here and now."

"Nay, madam, we will not have it here and now." Gareth eyed her with cool challenge. "Unless you mean to put on a performance for everyone present?"

"Why not? I confess that I did not originally intend to discuss this in front of the entire household." She gave him a frozen smile. "I thought to show some respect for your pride, you see."

"My pride?"

"Aye." Clare's smile vanished. "But as you do not appear to have any qualms about discussing my virtue with another man right here on the front steps of my own hall, why should I concern myself with your honor?"

"Lady, I think this has gone far enough."

"I have not yet begun, sir. Hear me well, Sir Gareth, you who would become the lord of Desire. Hear me and know that I mean every word of what I say. We shall wed tomorrow, as you demand and as my guardian insists."

"Aye, madam, we will."

"But we will not consummate this marriage of ours until I am satisfied that you will make me a suitable husband," Clare finished triumphantly.

"You, sir, will have to prove yourself worthy of my regard and wifely respect before I will share the marriage bed with you."

The crowd of onlookers who had gathered to enjoy the quarrel stared in openmouthed astonishment. Ulrich's face twisted. He shook his gleaming head.

Out of the corner of her eye Clare saw Dalian's sulky, resentful expression turn to something approaching sullen satisfaction.

A murmur of eager whispers swept through Gareth's men. Clare knew they were once again placing wagers.

Nicholas started to laugh. "By the devil, 'tis worth everything, even this aching skull of mine, to see this fine play today. I believe I shall stay for the wedding, after all."

"I think not," Gareth said. "Gather your men and prepare to depart. You have caused sufficient trouble. Give me any more grief this morning and I will likely give you a close look into the Window of Hell."

Nicholas held up his hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. "Fear not, Hellhound. My men and I are already on our way back to Seabern. I am in no condition to fight you today. Mayhap some other time." He grinned slyly. "I believe you have another battle to wage first, oh great lord of Desire."

"Begone, before I change my mind about seeking vengeance today."

"One more thing before I take my leave," Nicholas said. "If you would know how difficult the coming battle is going to be, ask your lady where she got her recipe for a husband."

"I have given you fair warning, Nicholas." Gareth rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I only provide one warning."

"Ask her about Raymond de Coleville. He is the bold knight who gave her the inspiration for her recipe. None of us mere mortals can hope to match him, not even you, Hellhound. The man could not only read, he could write poetry."

Nicholas was laughing so hard now that he could hardly catch his breath.

Several of his men staggered to their feet behind him. They started to grin.

"If you discover that your lady is no virgin," Nicholas managed, "do not look to me for an explanation. Seek out Raymond de Coleville."

A disquieting shiver went through Clare. She met Gareth's eyes and wondered belatedly if she should have held her tongue until she had regained control of her temper.

But it was too late to retract her rash proclamation. And she was not one to back down.

"It would seem that the battle I am to wage will be even more of a challenge than I had first anticipated," Gareth said.

It was not his soft words which worried Clare.

It was his smile.