Desire

by Jayne A. Krentz

  Gareth said. "She has got one who can do that. I trust that she has sense enough to allow me to get on with the task."

  ***

  Clare, are you truly all right?" Joanna looked up from the bunch of lavender and mint that she was binding with a cord.

  "Of course I'm all right." Clare stood on tiptoe to hang another fresh bouquet upside down from the overhead drying rack.

  The long shed where she and Joanna were working was one of a series of workrooms built against the curtain wall. It was filled with bunches of flowers and herbs in various stages of preparation. Many, such as the lavender and mint, were being allowed to dry. When the process was complete, they would be carefully composed into perfumes according to Clare's recipes.

  Some of the complex mixtures made from dried flowers and herbs would be used to fill sweet bags for linen chests. Others would go into small, lidded pots designed to add a pleasant fragrance to chambers. Still others would be combined with oil and honey to create lush perfumes, lotions, and balms.

  Clare loved the drying shed. She often walked through it as she did through her garden, delighting in one scent after another. She liked to close her eyes in the midst of the fragrant blossoms and create perfumes in her mind the way Dalian created ballads.

  There was a very large bin at the far end of the shed where the dried blossoms and leaves were combined in huge batches. There they were mixed according to Clare's specifications.

  Today the bin was heaped full of dried petals from early roses, mugwort, lavender, mint, and rosemary. Clare was still fussing with the concoction, deliberating whether to add cinnamon oil or oil of cloves to fix the scent.

  Once she had made her decision, the dried materials would be stuffed into hundreds of small, exquisitely embroidered bags. The sweet bags would be taken to the spring fair in Seabern in a few days, along with the new batch of soaps that was being readied. There they would be sold to eager merchants.

  "I have been concerned about you," Joanna said.

  "Why?" Clare slung another bunch of lavender onto a drying rack hook.

  "There has been gossip all morning in the hall. By now it has no doubt reached the village."

  "I am well aware that everyone is overly curious to know the details of my wedding night," Clare muttered, "but I have no intention of discussing it. Some matters are private between husband and wife."

  "Clare, you must know that it is not normal for a husband to appear wearing a large white bandage the morning after his wedding." Joanna threw her an exasperated glance. "What really happened last night?"

  "'Twas an accident."

  "Did you actually use the Hellhound's dagger in an attempt to defend yourself from his embrace?"

  "Nay, I most certainly did not. Is that what the gossips are saying?"

  Clare demanded.

  "Aye." Joanna sighed. "I knew you were not looking forward to the duties of a wife, but I did not believe you would do something so outrageous as to stab your husband on your wedding night. How did you dare?"

  "I didn't."

  "Lord Gareth must have been furious with you." Joanna shuddered. " Tis a wonder he did not beat you." She frowned in sudden alarm. "Or did he?"

  "Do not be ridiculous, Joanna. Do I appear to have been beaten?"

  "Nay."

  "Do you think that I would tolerate such treatment?"

  "Nay, but he is a very large man, Clare. Much bigger than you."

  "Do not forget that I have successfully defended myself against large men in the past."

  "Aye, but Lord Gareth is not a fool like Sir Nicholas."

  "A fact for which I am extremely grateful." Clare glanced over her shoulder. "Joanna, I did not use my husband's dagger against him last night. There was no need. Sir Gareth behaved himself in a most chivalrous fashion."

  Clare felt herself grow warm at the memory of how Gareth had cut his own arm in order to protect her from humiliation and gossip. No man had ever done anything so chivalrous for her, not even Raymond de Coleville.

  It was unfair that Gareth had become the object of so much sly speculation and rumor today. After his noble actions, he deserved better. Unfortunately, there was no way to explain that to Joanna.

  "A juggling accident," Joanna murmured.

  "Aye."

  "Forgive me, but that is difficult to believe, Clare."

  "Ask Lord Gareth yourself, if you do not believe me."

  "You know very well that I could never do such a thing. If I did, he would no doubt merely confirm your version of the tale, just as you are confirming his. For some reason the two of you appear to be as one on this matter."

  Joanna was right, Clare thought. More right than Clare had even realized until this moment. Somehow, whether he had intended to do so or not, Gareth had succeeded in binding Clare to him in a wholly unexpected fashion.

  Together they shared a secret. A most intimate secret. A secret that, in its own way, was as intimate as the manner in which Gareth had touched her last night.

  Clare stilled, one hand frozen around a bundle of lavender and roses.

  She gazed unseeing at the rows of flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling.

  It occurred to her that Gareth had no doubt known exactly what he was doing when he had slashed his arm for her. He had likely foreseen everything, including the way in which it would affect her feelings toward him.

  He was very good at making carefully calculated gestures, Clare reminded herself. But even allowing for that, this particular gesture had been undeniably gallant. Moreover, it was a gesture that he could not have planned, she thought. Gareth had had no way of knowing about the vials of chicken blood she had been given on her wedding day. He'd come to the bridal bed equipped with his own supply.

  Another calculated gesture. And one that had most definitely been well planned.

  Whose honor had he really been concerned with last night? Clare wondered. Hers or his own? She still knew very little about the Hellhound.

  "By Saint Hermione's nose," she muttered. It was all dangerously confusing.

  Joanna glanced out the open door of the drying shed. "Oh, there is William. Heading for the stables, I believe. I vow, he is spending far too much time with Lord Gareth's men, Clare. It worries me."

  "I know, Joanna, but I do not think there is any great harm in it."

  "Dalian is with him. I wonder what they are about?"

  "I have no notion."

  "Dear God." Joanna tossed aside the lavender and leaped to her feet.

  "Joanna, what wrong?"

  "Ranulf and Sir Ulrich have given both William and Dalian shields."

  Joanna stood in the doorway, her hand at her throat. "And wooden swords.

  Clare, I believe that they are going to give them instruction in swordplay."

  "Calm yourself, Joanna. Ulrich and Ranulf are likely just showing them some of the equipment. You know William is very curious about such matters."

  "Well, your minstrel is not, but he's out there, too."

  "Really?" Clare brushed her hands and walked toward the door of the shed. She peered out into the sunlit yard.

  There was no doubt about what was happening. William and Dalian stood awkwardly clutching wooden shields and swords. William looked excited.

  Dalian looked angry and resentful.

  Clare saw Gareth stroll out of the hall onto the steps to watch the lesson.

  Ranulf raised his shield and spoke to William, who eagerly hefted his wooden blade and delivered a fierce blow to Ranulf's shield.

  Joanna shrieked. She spun about and gave Clare a stricken look. "Tis obvious Lord Gareth has ordered William and Dalian to be trained with arms. You must stop this at once, Clare, I beg of you."

  "I do not think it will do any great harm, Joanna."

  "My son is much too delicate for such training. You must stop this at once."

  "Uh?"

  "Clare, do something. You are the lady of this hall. Tell them to cease this dangerous nonsense."

&n
bsp; Clare glanced at Gareth. She had an unpleasant suspicion that the whole situation was out of her hands.

  It was that realization which abruptly strengthened her resolve. She was mistress of Desire, she reminded herself. She gave the commands here.

  "I shall speak to Ranulf and Sir Ulrich at once." Clare picked up the skirts of her gown and strode purposefully out into the courtyard.

  11

  "Lady Clare, I would speak with you," Gareth said as Clare strode swiftly past the hall steps.

  His voice was pitched low, meant for her ears alone, but it carried the weight of command.

  Clare pretended that she had not heard him. She did not dare turn her head to glance at him. It would be easier to ignore Gareth if she did not appear to notice him standing there on the steps.

  "Pray, madam, a word with you." There was a slight but very distinct edge in Gareth's voice this time.

  Clare's fingers tightened in the folds of her skirt, but she resisted the almost overpowering inclination to obey the soft summons.

  "Hell's teeth. I knew you were going to make this difficult." Gareth started down the steps.

  Clare ignored him. This was her hall and she was in charge. She had no intention of allowing Gareth to take control. At that moment, however, she comprehended precisely how he had become successful as a leader of men. There was an inborn authority in his voice that would give anyone pause.

  Anyone, that is, save another who was also accustomed to command.

  Clare reminded herself that she, too, could invest her words with a certain air of authority when the occasion demanded. She had been doing so since the age of twelve.

  "Ulrich." Clare smiled coolly as Ulrich turned his head. "What is going on here?"

  "Sword practice, my lady. Lord Gareth has ordered William and Dalian to begin training with arms." Ulrich's gaze went from Clare's face to a point just behind her.

  Clare knew that Gareth was striding across the courtyard toward where she stood.

  Dalian and William looked at her, then at Gareth. They were not the only ones who stopped what they were doing to see what was going to happen.

  Disappointment clouded William's expression. "Ah, Lady Clare, please say that I may continue. I shall be most careful. I vow that I will not get hurt."

  Dalian's eyes gleamed with vengeful satisfaction. He shot a sly, triumphant glance at Gareth, who had nearly reached Clare. "I knew you would not allow us to be forced to leam such dangerous skills, my lady.

  You have always said that only thick-skulled lackwits devote their energies to fighting and tourneying."

  "Why was I not consulted on this matter?" Clare came to a halt in front of Ulrich and fixed him with a warning glare. Gareth was no more than a few paces away now. She had to act swiftly or the initiative would be taken from her.

  Ulrich glanced over the top of her head and met Gareth's eyes. "I assumed that my lord was in command of such things."

  "Lord Gareth may do as he pleases with you and the rest of his men.

  William and Dalian, however, are members of my household and their welfare is my affair."

  "Aye, madam," Ulrich murmured. There was a gleam of unholy amusement in his eyes.

  "You must save us, my lady," Dalian wailed piteously.

  "Please let us practice, Lady Clare," William urged. "I want to learn how to use a sword so that I can help defend this hall. Lord Gareth says he needs more trained men."

  "Aye." Gareth reached Clare's side. "One can never have too many well-trained men."

  He reached out and caught hold of Clare's arm in what no doubt appeared to onlookers to be a husbandly gesture of affection. Clare, however, was acutely aware of the inflexibility of his fingers. He was not hurting her, but his grasp was unshakable.

  "Dalian and William are not under your command, sir," she said.

  "I believe there is some misunderstanding here." Gareth's eyes were polite but unyielding. " 'Tis nothing that cannot be cleared up immediately. If you will come with me, madam, I shall explain everything to your satisfaction."

  Clare frowned. "I doubt that. My lord, I have not given my permission for William and Dalian to train with weapons."

  "Nay, but I have given mine, so all is well."

  Clare opened her mouth in astonishment. "You have no right?"

  "As to my rights, I believe it would be best if we discussed those in private." Gareth looked at Ulrich.

  "Continue with the sword practice while I explain matters to my lady wife."

  "Aye, my lord." Gareth turned to William and Dalian. "Let's get back to the business at hand, lads. We have a great deal of work ahead of us if we are to make useful knights out of you."

  "Lady Clare," Dalian yelped like an abandoned puppy. "Aren't you going to save us?"

  Gareth's hand tightened around Clare's arm before she could reply. "Get on with your training, minstrel. Who knows? If you work very hard, you may soon learn how to save yourself when you get into unpleasant situations. You will no longer need to hide behind a woman's skirts."

  Dalian turned a dull shade of red. His eyes glittered with helpless rage.

  Gareth paid no attention. He led Clare back across the courtyard toward the drying shed.

  "Gareth, how could you do such a thing?" Clare snapped furiously.

  "Tis the truth. The boy must become a man. The sooner the better, in his case."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Young Dalian tells me that he is a bastard. I suspect that he recently fled the household where he was raised. He is alone in the world, more so than he yet realizes. And he is of an anxious nature."

  "Aye, but?"

  "If he is going to survive, he must learn how to take care of himself.

  From what I have heard of his wretched poetry, he cannot depend upon his skill with a harp to make his way in the world."

  Clare heard the grim conviction in Gareth's voice. It effectively forestalled the remainder of her angry tirade. "You know whereof you speak, do you not, my lord?"

  "Aye. Tis true that unlike young Dalian, I had the advantage of being raised in my father's household.

  But I am still a bastard, for all of that, and nothing can change the fact. A man bom into this world without a name must make his own."

  The chill in his words told Clare a great deal. Gareth may indeed have been raised in his father's house, but he had never felt welcome there.

  At least she had always had Desire, she thought. Even through the worst of times she had always had a home. She had had a place where people wanted her and needed her, a place where she knew she belonged.

  She resisted an odd, almost overpowering urge to touch Gareth's fierce jaw and tell him that he now had a home, too. She knew he would not welcome the sympathy.

  "I appreciate your concern for my minstrel, but Dalian is safe enough here on Desire." she said briskly.

  "Is he?"

  "Of course he is. And so is William. There has never been any violence on this isle. No one has ever had to defend the hall or the village. The only reason we need a company of armed men at all is to protect the shipments we send elsewhere."

  Gareth's mouth tightened. "I am well aware that you view my role here as a very limited one. But as it is my task to protect this isle, you must allow me to make the decisions that deal with such matters."

  Clare slanted him an uncertain glance. She wondered if she had somehow offended him. "Surely you do not need William's or Dalian's assistance for the defense of Desire."

  "As to that, who can say? I believe in being prepared for all eventualities."

  "Aye, but?"

  "Come, Clare. Be reasonable. Young William needs exercise. He is in immediate danger of either being smothered to death by his well-meaning mother or of turning into a stuffed pork pie."

  Clare knew he was right, but she could hardly admit it. To do so would be to abandon her present battle. "I do not dispute that William needs more physical activity," she managed austerely. "However?"
<
br />   "He also craves a man's guidance. So does Dalian."

  That was too much. "I am aware that young William has become Sir Ulrich's shadow of late, but Dalian has been quite content in this household."

  "Too much so." Gareth looked thoughtful. "I believe your minstrel clings to your skirts and starts at every small sound because he has been badly frightened by his previous master. To combat that fear, he must gain confidence in his own ability to defend himself."

  Clare gave Gareth a disgruntled look. He had assessed the situation accurately, confirming some of her own conclusions.

  But there was another, much more significant issue involved here, Clare knew. It had to do with the question of who gave the orders on the manor.

  "I will not deny that William and Dalian could do with a man's guidance," Clare said cautiously. "And I agree that exercise is of great benefit in restoring balance to the body's humors. But there is no need for either boy to undergo the dangerous and rigorous training of a knight in order to accomplish that."

  "They will be safe enough under Ulrich's supervision."

  "Joanna will fret."

  "She will soon adjust to the situation. That is not the real issue here, is it?"

  "Nay." Clare came to a halt and swung around to confront him. "Let us be clear on something here, my lord. I will make the decisions that affect the members of this household."

  Gareth's gaze was as fathomless as the crystal in his sword. "I comprehend that you have had the sole responsibility for this household and this manor for a long time, Clare."

  "Aye." She eyed him with frosty challenge.

  "You are obviously accustomed to bearing the burden alone."

  "Precisely."

  "But you are no longer alone."

  "There is no need to remind me of that fact," she retorted. "I am only too well aware of it."

  Gareth's brows rose. "You were the one who wrote to Thurston of Landry to request a husband who could provide protection for your manor."

  "What of it? I had little choice in the matter."

  "My point is that you have got what you asked for, madam."

  "Not quite."

  "Aye, that is true enough, is it not? You have made it plain that I do not meet all the requirements of your damned recipe."