Clare badly wished she had not let her tongue run away with her. "I did not mean that the way it sounded, sir."
"Aye, you did mean it. But it matters not. Few of us get exactly what we want." Gareth rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "We must all make the most of whatever the winds of fortune blow our way."
Likely she was not the sort of wife he had dreamed of marrying, Clare thought. "My lord, I am trying to make another point entirely here."
"As am I, madam. To be blunt, I may not be what you ordered, but I am the only husband you have got. Allow me to perform my tasks without interference."
"What has training Dalian or William got to do with the defense of this manor?"
"Clare," Joanna called.
Clare glanced toward the workrooms. Joanna left the doorway of the drying shed and hurried across the courtyard.
"You must stop them," Joanna said urgently. "William is still playing with that dangerous sword."
"I will deal with this," Gareth said quietly.
"She is my friend," Clare said. "I shall deal with it."
"As your husband and as the lord of this manor, I must ask that you stand with me on this, madam." Gareth's gaze was suddenly very cold and very unyielding. "I warn you, for the sake of all concerned, do not gainsay me in front of Joanna."
"By Saint Hermione's hair, this is too much."
"If you and do not appear united in our decisions, we will cause confusion and discontent among our people. Do you want that?"
Our people.
The words brought Clare up short. She had to accept that the people of Desire were linked to Gareth now. She knew he was right when he insisted that as lord and lady of the manor, the two of them must stand together.
"You have caught me in yet another of your crafty snares, my lord," she muttered a few seconds before Joanna reached them. "Beware. One day I shall have my revenge."
"You have already had your revenge. And a most telling vengeance it is.
I am a husband who has not yet had a wedding night."
She threw him a quelling glance as Joanna fluttered anxiously to a halt in front of them.
"Clare, why did you not instruct Ulrich to cease the training?" Joanna asked. "William could be hurt at any moment. Just look at the way he is swinging that great wooden sword about."
Clare steeled herself. "Lord Gareth feels that such training will be good for both William and Dalian.
My lord and I have discussed the matter and I have concluded that he is right. I agree with his decision."
"You agree with him?" Joanna's eyes widened in shock.
Clare did not dare look at Gareth. If he smiled in triumph at that moment, she was not at all certain that she would be able to keep from throttling him.
"Rest assured that I have given my approval for William and Dalian to be taught knightly skills," Clare said. "As a form of healthful exercise," she added quickly.
"But you have never approved of such activities, not even for the sake of health," Joanna said. "After Edmund was killed, you told me that you never wanted to hear the sound of a lance striking a quintain again as long as you lived."
Clare winced. "I was distraught at the time."
"The grief my lady wife must have experienced at the time of her brother's death no doubt prevented her taking an objective view of the benefits of exercise," Gareth said easily.
Joanna looked uncertain. "She was much saddened and prone to melancholy at the time. Nevertheless, I heard her say very distinctly that training a man to be a knight was a great piece of idiocy."
Clare saw the gleam in Gareth's eye. She flushed.
"At the time, my wife was not aware of the many healthful advantages of training and exercise for young men," Gareth said. "I have explained those benefits to her, however, and she is eager for William and Dalian to receive them."
"What benefits?" Joanna gave him a beseeching look. "William could be seriously injured."
"He could be hurt climbing an apple tree or falling down a staircase, but 'tis not likely," Gareth said with surprising gentleness. "Your son is safer under Sir Ulrich's eye than he is in his own bed."
"William has a most delicate constitution," Joanna insisted. "Such training and exercise will exhaust him."
"A regimen of properly supervised exercise will strengthen his constitution and align his humors," Gareth said. "I have seen many examples of frail young boys who have greatly improved their health through regular, vigorous activity."
"I am not at all certain of this." Joanna looked at Clare, seeking support.
Clare managed what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "We must trust that my husband and Sir Ulrich know what they are about, Joanna. They have both had a great deal of experience in such matters."
"Their experience is in hunting outlaws, not in educating young boys,"
Joanna said desperately.
"Nay," Gareth said. "I have been training the men who serve under my command for years. So has Ulrich. We know what we are doing."
Joanna looked from Gareth to Clare and back. Some of her visible agitation subsided. She did not appear completely satisfied, but it was clear she realized she was facing a united lord and lady. In an odd way, it seemed to give her some further reassurance.
"Well, if you are certain William will not be hurt, I suppose it will be all right to try an exercise program."
"Why don't you discuss the particulars of William's training at supper with Sir Ulrich?" Clare suggested to Joanna. "I believe that he will answer all of your questions."
Joanna brightened. "Aye, I will do that. Sir Ulrich is a very kind and courteous knight. And very knowledgeable."
"He will be an excellent example for young William and for Dalian."
Gareth's eyes gleamed. "He is not one of your typical thick-skulled, ill-mannered, foul-tempered knights."
Clare rolled her eyes heavenward and called on Saint Hermione for strength.
"Aye, mayhap Sir Ulrich will, indeed, be a good influence on William."
Joanna inclined her head politely to Gareth. "Pray, excuse me, my lord.
I believe I shall go and observe the training."
"Do it from a distance," Gareth advised. "Otherwise you will divert your son's attention and he will lose much of the benefit."
"Aye."
Clare watched Joanna walk toward the hall steps to join a handful of other people who had gathered to observe the training practice.
"Well done, madam," Gareth muttered. "I know that was not easy for you.
But in truth 'tis time she stopped coddling the lad. She cannot protect him forever."
Clare narrowed her eyes against the bright sunlight and turned to face Gareth. "You have had your way in this, my lord. I trust you are satisfied. Next time, you will consult me before you make any decisions which affect those in my charge, is that quite clear?"
"You and I must share the responsibilities for the decisions that affect the people of this manor now, Clare."
"All the more reason for you to discuss things with me first before you make sweeping decisions."
Gareth took her arm again and started toward the drying shed. "I think it would be best if we finished this conversation in private. I have been the subject of enough speculation and gossip today."
Clare's gaze went to the linen bandage on his arm. Guilt shot through her. "I am aware of that, my lord, and I cannot tell you how much I regret it."
"Try."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, try to tell me how much regret my act of personal sacrifice has caused you." Gareth urged her through the door into the fragrant, shadowed interior of the shed.
"Are you teasing me, my lord?" she demanded suspiciously.
"Nay, madam." Gareth stopped just inside the shed and surveyed the long rows of flowers that hung from the drying racks. "So this is where you produce the wealth of Desire."
Clare frowned. "This is one of my workrooms, yes."
"I would see th
e rest of your facilities." Gareth started slowly down an aisle created by several long benches. He stopped in front of a pot filled with elderflowers, rose petals, and oak moss.
He scooped out a large handful and held the mixture to his nose. "Sweet.
Rich. A woman's scent, no doubt. One of your more profitable recipes?"
"Aye. It will sell well at the spring fair." Clare planted her hands on her hips and tapped one toe as Gareth moved on to another bowl.
"I like this one," he said as he held another handful of dried ingredients to his nose. "Clean and fresh. It smells of the sea."
Clare crossed her arms under her breasts. "Tis a mixture of spices and mint that is much favored by the wealthy men of London."
Gareth nodded and dropped the mix back into the bowl. He wandered down the row of tables to where several sprays of dried flowers were set out.
"And these?"
"Violets, roses, and orris root. I blend them with beeswax to create a scented balm. Twice a year I ship quantities of it to the South. Tis quite popular."
Gareth glanced toward the door at the far end of the shed. "What is in the adjoining workroom?"
"That is the place where I create my scented oils. It is where I work with fresh flowers and herbs instead of the dried ones. My lord, I believe you are attempting to distract me."
"Do you find my interest in your work unusual?" Gareth strode toward the connecting door.
"Under the circumstances, I do, sir."
Gareth opened the door and went through into the next workroom. "You cannot blame me for being curious. Now that I have given up the business of hunting cutthroats, my fortunes are in your hands, madam." He halted just inside the room. "It smells like all the flowers on the earth are collected in here."
Clare scowled and hurried after him. "I told you, that workroom is full of fresh petals and other ingredients."
Gareth walked over to a huge covered urn and lifted the lid. He took a deep whiff of the contents.
"Hell's teeth. 'Tis enough to make a man light-headed."
"Oil of roses," Clare explained.
"And this?" Gareth lifted another lid.
"Tis an oil mixture composed of fresh lavender, cloves, and a great many other ingredients. My lord, forgive me if I doubt the extent of your interest in my creations. We both know that you are attempting to avoid a discussion."
"An argument." Gareth took a deep breath of the lavender and clove oil.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I am attempting to avoid an argument." He put the lid back on the urn and surveyed three large pots that stood on a table. "What's in these vessels?"
"Honey, beeswax, and vinegar." Clare hung on to her fraying temper with sheer willpower. "I mix various flowers and herbs into them to create different lotions and creams. My lord, I do not wish to argue with you, but?"
"Excellent." Gareth removed the lid from the honey jar. "I am not fond of arguments." He touched a large, heavy press made of wood and iron.
"What is this mechanical device?"
"I use it to extract oil from cinnamon and roses. It is of Arab design."
"Where did you get it?"
"It was my father's. He discovered it on his last journey to Spain. It was packed in one of the chests full of books and other items that he sent to me shortly before he died."
Gareth poked experimentally at one of the iron screws. His expression was one of absorbed curiosity. "Fascinating."
"Unfortunately, it is broken at the moment. I have not been able to repair it."
"Mayhap I can do something about it. I have studied a number of the translated Arab works that describe mechanical devices."
"Have you?" Clare was suddenly intrigued. This was a side of Gareth that she had not seen until now.
"Aye." Gareth jiggled one of the hinges on the press.
"Mayhap you would care to examine my father's workrooms. They are on the other side of the courtyard. I have kept them locked since he left Desire a year ago. They are full of many of the items he discovered on his various journeys."
"I would very much like to see your father's workrooms."
"Aye. Well, then, I shall give you the keys. Mayhap you would also enjoy studying the book he wrote.
I have it in my study chamber."
"He wrote a book?" Gareth sounded impressed.
"It is a collection of recipes and treatises that he translated from the Arabic. Unfortunately, my father was not a skilled scribe. It is a rather difficult volume to read."
"I shall look forward to the task."
Clare scowled in exasperation. She suddenly realized that Gareth had successfully deflected her from the topic at hand. "At the moment, however, I intend to have a discussion concerning the nature of our association."
"As a man who has made his living by knowing when to fight and when to keep his sword in its scabbard, I can tell you that you do not want such a discussion. Not now, at any rate."
"Is that so?" she challenged.
"Sometimes 'tis better not to confront a problem directly."
"Such discretion astounds me, sir. I would have thought you would prefer open battle."
"Nay, I have had too many battles in my time."
"You must excuse me if I am somewhat dubious of that statement, my lord."
"Tis true." Gareth looked up from the press. "I would far rather inhale the vapors of your perfumes than do battle with you."
"This is one battle you cannot avoid, sir. We are going to settle this matter between us. And we are going to do it now."
"So be it. If it is a battle you want, you shall have one."
Clare eyed him uneasily. "My lord, let us be clear on this matter of who gives the commands on Desire."
"Aye." Gareth wandered over to another urn and peered inside. "The first thing you must come to terms with, madam, is that I am not in your employ. You have not hired my services or my sword. I am your husband."
"I am hardly likely to forget that. I am attempting to adjust to the business of being a proper wife, but you are making things exceedingly difficult."
"You are not making it any easier on either of us by treating me as if I were little more than a hired guard."
"By Saint Hermione's girdle, I do not treat you as if you were a hired guard." Clare was outraged.
"I have attempted to show you the respect due a husband. It seems to me that I have given ground at every point."
"Is that how you see the situation? You believe you have been forced to give ground?"
"Aye, that is exactly how it looks to me."
Gareth propped himself against a table and folded his arms across his chest. "What of me? Haven't I made similar compromises? Do you think it simple for me to adjust to this business of being a husband?"
"I fail to see what great difficulties you have had to encounter."
"Shall I list them for you?" Gareth held up his hand and ticked up his complaints on his fingers. "You have made it clear since the moment I arrived that I was not what you ordered."
"You were unexpected," Clare muttered.
Gareth ignored that. He held up another finger. "You announced in front of the entire household that you did not intend to be a proper wife."
"I agreed to share a bedchamber with you."
"You refused to consummate the marriage on our wedding night."
Clare was incensed. "I told you this morning that I regretted that decision. It was wrong of me to refuse to do my duty last night." She took a deep breath. "I stand ready to do it tonight."
He slanted her a derisive glance. "Your duty? You'll forgive me if I fail to get overly enthusiastic about making love to a woman who feels that she is being forced to fulfill her responsibilities in the bedchamber."
Clare had had enough. She stalked down the aisle and came to a halt directly in front of him. "Is that why you refused to consummate our marriage this morning when I gave you the opportunity? You lost your enthusiasm for the task?"
Gareth
narrowed his eyes. "Do you blame me?"
Clare's temper flared out of control. "If you no longer have any enthusiasm for the business, we are presented with a difficult problem, are we not?"
"What problem would that be?"
"I have it on good authority that, unlike a woman, a man cannot fulfill his husbandly obligations unless he is able to work up some degree of enthusiasm for the business."
"Who told you that?"
"Prioress Margaret," Clare shot back triumphantly.
"Ah." Gareth nodded sagely.
"Do you dispute her statement?" Clare demanded.
Gareth shrugged. "Nay. She has the right of it."
"What are we to do, sir, if you fail to regain your enthusiasm? Mayhap we will be forced to annul the marriage."
Gareth went dangerously still. "So that is your plan. You think to end this union of ours before it is even begun."
Clare looked into his eyes and saw the smoke from the fires of the nether regions. But she was too caught up in the flames of her own anger to rein in her wayward tongue.
"An annulment will certainly become a necessity if you are unable to work up sufficient enthusiasm for your husbandly tasks."
"The good prioress neglected to tell you one important fact about a man's enthusiasm, madam."
"And what would that be, my lord?"
"Sometimes the oddest things will arouse it." Gareth smiled slowly. "On occasion, for example, a good argument will do the trick."
Too late Clare read the brilliant warning in his eyes. She stepped back quickly, but not quickly enough.
Gareth scooped her up into his arms, took three long strides across the workroom, and dropped Clare squarely into a huge bin full of fresh blossoms and herbs.
Clare shrieked as she sank into the fragrant mass. Rose petals and lavender leaves wafted into the air.
The intense scent of fresh flowers engulfed her.
Before she could catch her breath, Gareth plunged into the bin. His mouth covered hers as his weight crushed her into the mountain of soft, fragrant petals.
12
Clare was overwhelmed by the feel of Gareth's body sprawled on top of her. His hands tangled roughly in her hair. His mouth was fierce and hot and urgent on hers. His scent made her head whirl even more than the fragrance of the massed petals in which she lay half buried.
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