"There was no way that Sir Nicholas could have been the winner. I knew who would be the new lord of Desire before I pulled the first petal off the flower." Clare reached the upper floor and stalked down the corridor to her bedchamber. "There are only five petals on a primrose, after all."
"But how did you know which name would be called out last?" Joanna's brow cleared. "Oh, I see. You had counted the petals and reasoned it out before you started."
"Aye." Clare opened the heavy wooden door of her chamber. She went inside, set the lamp down on a table, and walked to the window. She took a deep, calming breath of the perfumed darkness. "I knew the answer. Indeed, I knew it hours ago."
Joanna watched her closely. "Then why did you stage the fine performance with the primrose?"
Clare tapped one finger against the windowsill. "I was furious with both men but most especially with Sir Gareth. Nicholas is, to be blunt, simply Nicholas. He hasn't the wit to be anything other than obnoxious."
"And Sir Gareth?"
Clare's mouth tightened. "Sir Gareth most certainly possesses a high degree of intelligence and common sense. It angered me that he was willing to resort to intimidation and violence to gain his ends."
Joanna frowned. "Do you think that was what he was doing?"
"Aye. Did you not see the way he toyed with the flower while Dalian played 'The Key'?"
"Twas merely a flower, Clare. What made you deem the gesture intimidating?"
"I cannot explain it. Twas something about the manner in which he stroked the petals that alarmed me." Clare gazed out at the moonlit sea.
"He was telling me quite clearly that he could be gentle or he could be dangerous. He wanted me to know that the choice was mine."
Joanna stared at her. "Do you really believe that was his intent?"
"I believe that he has created a very nasty reputation for himself and is not above using it on occasion.
He is a practical man, no doubt given to expediency. If he is to be the lord of this manor, he must learn that we do things differently here. I want no violence on Desire."
"He is a man who is very familiar with violence, Clare. Tis likely natural for him to use violent methods when he deems it necessary."
"Aye, he will use them if need be." Clare hesitated. "But I do not believe that he takes pleasure in violence. At least, he has assured me that he does not. That is his saving grace. If we get through this night without a brawl downstairs, I shall have cause to hope that I have made the right choice."
Two hours later Ulrich heaved a sigh of relief and grinned at Gareth.
"My congratulations on your successful completion of your first task as lord of this manor."
"Thank you."
"I confess I was not certain we would get through the evening without a bit of bloodshed. But as always, you proved as swift with your wits as you are with the Window of Hell."
"Twas not difficult to persuade Nicholas and his men to drink themselves into oblivion. They were already halfway there when my lady quit the hall." Gareth prowled his chamber with a restlessness that was unusual for him. "You have assigned the guards?"
"Aye. If any of Nicholas's men awake before dawn, he will be given another cup of wine."
"And Nicholas?"
"Fast asleep as a newborn babe, thanks to his efforts to defeat you in the contest to see who could down the most wine." Ulrich chuckled.
"Speaking of that bloodless tour-nament you staged with your rival, I have a question."
"Aye?"
"What did you do with all the wine that you were supposedly downing?"
"I poured it into the rushes beneath the table whenever Nicholas turned his head."
"I thought as much." Ulrich's mouth turned down wryly. "The hall will not be a pretty sight tomorrow morning when Lady Clare's guests awake with splitting headaches and heaving stomachs, but there will be no bloodshed tonight."
"And that is the important thing." Gareth felt the odd tugging sensation around the corners of his mouth. He almost smiled. "My lady's wishes will be carried out insofar as possible until she is safely wed to me.
I would not want her to think that she made the wrong choice."
"You are surprisingly pleased with yourself for a man whose destiny was recently linked to the fragile petals of a flower and a woman's whim."
"It is not the first time that my future has been decided by fortune and fate. I doubt it will be the last."
"I thought you would be as enraged as Nicholas was when you saw the method Lady Clare intended to use to make her choice."
Gareth halted in front of the window. He braced a hand against the stone sill. "I knew I would win the contest as soon as she plucked the first petal and called my name. More to the point, so did she. Given her knowledge of flowers, 'tis certain that she knew the answer before she began."
Ulrich frowned. "How do you know that?"
Gareth remembered the primrose he had examined while Dalian defiantly played the bawdy ballad. "There are only five petals on yellow primroses. Or at least there were only five on the flowers that were scattered about on the table tonight."
"Ah." Ulrich smiled. "I take your meaning. Given the uneven number of petals, it was inevitable that whichever name Lady Clare started with, that name would be the one she called out last."
"Aye."
"Why do you think she went to the trouble of acting out the small play?
Why not merely announce that you were her choice and be done with it?"
Gareth gave in to the smile that hovered at the edge of his mouth. "She finds me arrogant. I believe that she was attempting to teach me a lesson."
"A lesson?"
"She wanted me to think that as far as she was concerned, there was little difference between Sir Nicholas and myself. It was her way of letting me know that I have yet to prove to her that I am the better choice."
Ulrich eyed Gareth's curved mouth with great caution. "You are amused by this?"
Gareth considered the matter more closely. "I believe I am."
Ulrich swore. "I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have seen you amused."
"You exaggerate."
"Nay, my memory is clear because on each occasion you came within a hair's breadth of getting us both killed."
5
Clare held her tiny scented pomander to her nose as she gingerly made her way through the ruin of her main hall the next morning.
Even the fragrant herbs that had been scattered amid the rushes could not disguise the odor of brimming chamber pots, spilled wine, and stale bodies.
It would take hours to get the hall cleaned. Fresh rushes would have to be put down before the chamber was habitable. Clare wrinkled her nose in dismay. The servants could not even begin the task of sweeping out the hall until the sleeping men, who were sprawled everywhere, were removed.
She picked her way among the pallets, ignoring the snores of her guests, and managed to reach the front steps without getting ill. The young guard who stood there nodded respectfully.
"Good morning, my lady."
"Good morning." Clare dropped the pomander to let it dangle from her girdle. "You're one of Sir Gareth's men, aren't you?"
"Aye, my lady. My name is Ranulf."
"How is it that you look clear-eyed this morning, Ranulf? The others appear to be sleeping so soundly that it will likely take the crack of doom to awaken them."
Ranulf smiled. "The men who are still asleep in the hall are all in Sir Nicholas's employ. You may be certain that those of us who follow Sir Gareth are awake and at our assigned tasks. Most are in the stables at the moment."