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.
6
"Sir Ulrich says that Sir Gareth is at his most dangerous when he smiles." The brisk morning breeze off the sea ruffled Joanna's mantle.
She anchored the hood in place over her neatly braided hair and looked at Clare with troubled eyes. "He says that the Hellhound is seldom amused and on those odd occasions when he does appear to find mirth in a situation, no one else ever comprehends the jest."
"There's no denying that Sir Gareth enjoys a somewhat misguided notion of amusement," Clare muttered. She had pushed back the hood of her orange mantle, allowing her loosely bound hair to play with the crisp, snapping wind.
"Sir Ulrich claims that something dreadful frequently occurs after the Hellhound smiles."
"Now, that is utter nonsense. Sir Ulrich sounds a bit like Beatrice, always predicting doom and gloom." Clare adjusted the weight of the small pouch that was suspended from her orange and yellow girdle. She had a pot of a specially scented herbal skin cream stashed inside.
"Sir Ulrich is Sir Gareth's closest companion. He tells me he has served him for many years. But Ulrich says that even he treads cautiously whenever the Hellhound shows signs of being amused."
Clare glanced impatiently at Joanna. Her friend looked subdued and distinctly uneasy, not at all her normal, serene self. It was unsettling and at this particular moment in her life Clare did not want to become any more unsettled than she already was. She had to keep a clear head and a logical outlook on matters.
And she must remember her duties and responsibilities to the manor.
The walk along the cliffs into the village should have been a splendid way to steady her churning thoughts. Although it had been Gareth's suggestion this morning, in reality it was Clare's custom to take an early walk each day. She just did not care to be commanded to take a stroll, she thought, irritated by the memory of how Gareth had virtually ordered her out of her own hall.
It was obvious that Gareth was accustomed to command.
So was she.
That could be a problem.
"It seems to me," Clare said, "that you and Sir Ulrich have had some rather intimate conversations regarding Gareth."
Joanna turned an astonishing shade of pink. "Sir Ulrich is a most courteous knight. William is quite fond of him."
"I noticed."
Joanna frowned. "This morning William was still talking about his ride on Ulrich's war-horse yesterday.
I do hope my son does not become too interested in war-horses and armor and such."
Clare gazed out over the sunlit sea. William's increasing fascination with knighthood was worrisome for Joanna. "I understand your fears. But it will be difficult to keep a boy of William's nature away from Gareth's men-at-arms."
"Mayhap it would help if I saw to it that William spent more time on his studies."
"Aye. Mayhap." But Clare privately doubted if any distraction, least of all an educational one, could deflect the boy's interest in the rough-and-tumble world of men-at-arms.
She understood Joanna's concerns better than most because she had lost her only brother to the lure of the tournament circuit. But Clare also knew that Joanna's overprotective attitude toward William was probably not the best method for dealing with a young boy.
Clare took a deep breath, reveling as always in the fresh, scented air.
She loved the purple-pink sea lavender that carpeted the clifftops.
She looked out across the narrow channel that separated Desire from the mainland. The dark tower of Seabern Keep rose behind the small village on the shore. The sight sent a shudder of disgust through her.
"I confess that I have some serious doubts about Sir Gareth's suitability as a husband," she said. "But I suppose things could have been worse. I might have been forced to put up with Sir Nicholas."
Joanna slanted her a strange look. "At least we know you could have managed him, Clare."
"Sir Gareth will prove manageable," Clare said optimistically.
"Do not be too certain of that." Joanna eyed her closely. "Do you really mean to keep him out of your bed until he has proven himself to be a suitable husband?"
"I told you, I want some time to get to know him. I would have some degree of mutual understanding between myself and my husband before I join him in the marriage bed. Tis little enough to ask."
"Sir Ulrich says it will never work. He says you should never have challenged the Hellhound the way you did. I am inclined to agree with him."
Clare's mouth firmed. "Sir Gareth should never have challenged my honor."
"Come, now, it was logical for him to assume that you are no longer a virgin. Thurston of Landry obviously told him of the rumors about the kidnapping and of how you had stayed four days at Seabern."
"I do not care what gossip Thurston gave Gareth. The Hellhound should have asked me for the truth of the matter. He should not have made assumptions. And he had no business vowing revenge on poor Nicholas."
Joanna's smile was wry. "So it's poor Nicholas now, is it? That is not how you referred to him last month after you escaped from Seabern Keep."
"He is a nuisance and I am grateful that I will not have to wed him.
Nevertheless, I confess I felt a little sorry for him this morning."
"I would not waste any sympathy on Nicholas, if I were you," Joanna said. "Save such feelings for yourself. You are the one who has challenged the Hellhound."
"Do you really believe that I made a mistake this morning when I told Gareth that he would not be welcome in my bed?"
"Aye. A very serious mistake. One for which I can only pray that you will not have to pay too dearly."
Clare mulled that over as she and Joanna left the cliff path and walked into the village. The narrow street was already bustling with morning activity.
There was no one seeking advice from the recluse when Clare and Joanna arrived at the anchor-hold. Clare knocked on the stone that surrounded one of the cell's two windows.
"We bid you good morning, Beatrice," she called. "Do we disturb you at your prayers?"
"Aye, but no matter. I have been waiting for you, lady." There was a rustling sound inside the cell. A moment later Beatrice, dressed in a pristinely draped wimple and a dark gown, appeared at the window.