Desire (40 page)

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 hold 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.