Desire

"I expect it will be no problem for Lord Gareth to arrange for some of his men-at-arms to remain here on Desire to handle the shipments." Joanna sighed. "I suppose Sir Ulrich will accompany Lord Gareth when he leaves. A pity. William is quite fond of him. I do believe this new exercise program is having a beneficial effect on my son, just as Lord Gareth predicted."

"Young William is not the only one who has grown fond of Sir Ulrich, is he?" Clare asked gently.

Joanna blushed. "Is it so obvious?"

"Aye. And he seems equally fond of you."

Joanna studied the pot of herbs and flowers. "He says he loves me."

Lucky Joanna, Clare thought. That was a great deal more than Gareth had ever said to her. "I am happy for you, Joanna."

"He kissed me last night." Joanna shot her a quick glance. "For the first time I understood that lovemaking might be as pleasant for a woman as it is for a man."

"Aye. But I suspect it is only thus with the right man."

Joanna sat down heavily on a stool and folded her hands in her lap. "It will be very lonely around here after they leave, will it not?"

"Lord Gareth has said nothing to me of leaving."

"Men rarely discuss their plans with women. You know that. Did your brother ever bother to inform you of his intentions until he had one foot out the door?"

"Nay, but Lord Gareth is different. He discusses important matters with me."

"Your husband is still at the stage where it amuses him to indulge a new wife. That will soon change," Joanna said sadly. "It always does."

Clare's stomach tightened. She could not bear the thought of Gareth leaving, not now when they were just beginning to get to know each other, to understand each other. To talk to each other.

Not now when she had begun to hope that she could make him fall in love with her.

"I shall see about this." Clare started toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find my husband. I wish to speak to him."

Joanna frowned. "He is busy at the moment."

"Doing what?"

"Supervising the repairs of the windmill, I believe. One of the sails is being replaced."

"This won't take but a moment."

Clare went through the door. The windmill stood on the far side of the courtyard. Its sails were still. Several men, including Gareth and Ulrich, were gathered around the mill. From the serious expressions on their faces, one would have thought they stood around an open grave.

She wondered briefly if men assumed such airs of concern when faced with broken mechanical devices merely to impress each other or if they were genuinely alarmed by the challenge of repairing the items.

"My lord." She halted a few paces away from the crowd of males. "I wish to speak to you."

Gareth reluctantly dragged his attention away from the torn sailcloth and glanced at her. "Later, madam. As you can see, I am occupied just now."

"This is very important." Clare was aware that every man in the small crowd was listening with keen interest. "It will not take but a moment."

Gareth's brow rose in reaction to her peremptory tone. "Very well, if it is that important." He nodded at Ulrich. "Continue with the work. I shall return soon."

"Aye, my lord." Ulrich turned back to the flapping sailcloth with an ill-concealed smile.

Gareth strode over to where Clare stood. He looked down at her, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the mill. "Well, then, Clare? What is it that is so urgent that it could not wait?"

Clare suddenly felt ridiculous. But she had to ask the question. "I merely wished to know if you intend to leave Desire in the near future?"

"Leave?"

"Aye." She glowered at him. "There are some who feel that once you've secured your lands and got me with child, you'll be off. I wanted to know if that was your intention."

Gareth stared at her. "Are you with child?"

"Uh, no." Clare cleared her throat. "At least I do not believe that to be the case. Gareth, that is not the issue. I am asking if you plan to leave the isle."

Gareth's mouth tightened grimly. "Hell's teeth, this is not the time to discuss such matters. I'm trying to get that damned windmill fixed."

"Is the mill more important than your future plans, sir?"

He raked his fingers through his hair. "What in the name of the devil made you seek me out to ask me this now?"

"Never mind, my lord. Just answer my question. Are you planning to leave anytime soon?"

"Do you want me gone, then?"

"Nay, my lord." Clare looked at the broad expanse of his chest. "In truth, I find you extremely useful to have around and am not anxious to see you leave."

"Useful?"

"Aye, sir. Useful."

"How am I useful?"

"Well, you did an excellent job of repairing the j machine I use for pressing oil from roses and cinnamon." Clare summoned a bright little smile. "It works perfectly now."

"Thank you," Gareth said through set teeth. "I am glad that I was able to give satisfactory service."

Clare realized he was angry. Her own temper flared. "I just want to know your plans so that I can make my own arrangements. Does that seem too much to ask?"

He regarded her with a cool, shuttered gaze. "I have. no intention of leaving Desire unless I am summoned by my father. I am Thurston of Landry's vassal and as such, I owe him a set number of days of service each year should he demand such. You know that as well as I do."

Clare scowled. "I am not an idiot. I fully comprehend that, my lord. I wasn't talking about the duty that you owe to Lord Thurston. I was referring to your personal plans."

"At the moment, my personal plans involve getting that damned mill repaired as soon as possible. After that I intend to check on the stonemasons' progress. When I have finished that task, I shall return to my workroom to continue my experiments. Does that answer your question?"

"You definitely do not plan to leave Desire?"

"Nay."

"I have your oath on it?"

"Aye."

Relief poured through Clare. She tried not to let it show. "Very well.

That is all I wished to know."

Gareth braced his hands on his hips. "If you are satisfied, madam, may I return to the task of repairing the windmill sail?"

"Of course. My apologies for disturbing your labors." Clare started to turn away.

"Clare."

"Aye?" She paused.

Gareth surveyed her thoughtfully. "I am told that you do not charge the villagers for the use of the mill."

"That is correct. I'm aware that many lords do charge their people for grinding their flour, but I feel there is no need to do so. The villagers supply the hall with all the flour we need, so it is an even trade as far as I am concerned."

"I see."

She eyed him uneasily. "I trust you do not intend to start charging our people for milling their flour, my lord?"

"Nay, madam. You are the one with a head for business in this family. If you believe the present arrangement to be fair, who am I to argue with you?"

"A head for business, aye. That is what I have always been told." She gave him a wry look. "It would appear that we both have our uses, sir."

Gareth's eyes gleamed. "A man could not ask for a more useful wife than you, madam. Now, pray excuse me. Tis past time I got back to my tasks." He returned and stalked back to the crowd that hovered around the mill.

Clare gazed wistfully after him for a brief moment.

Useful She had always been useful, she reflected. She had been useful to her mother, who had borne the burden of managing the manor while her lord traipsed about the continent in search of knowledge.

She had been useful to her absentminded, scholarly father, who preferred his studies in Paris and Spain to the responsibilities of being a husband and a father and the lord of Desire.