Chapter Three #4
Arissa and Richmond moved to follow. Arissa was having a good deal of success in calming her snickers until Bartholomew cast her a wild-eyed glance when Lady Margaret fixed him with a hungry gaze. Immediately, she was off on another gale.
“Calm yourself, kitten,” Richmond’s breath was hot against her ear. “Lady de Rydal would probably not hesitate to take a switch to your lovely bottom if she catches wind of your fit.”
She swallowed her giggles, fixing Richmond in the eye. “But you are my protector. Surely you would defend me.”
He feigned a wary look. “Not for certain. She would probably blister me, too.”
Arissa’s giggles returned, only they were far calmer as she and Richmond gazed warmly at each other. The giggling moment eased as Arissa finally spoke. “I am…. I am glad you’re back, Richmond. I have missed you.”
William addressed her and she was forced to turn away from Richmond, releasing her grip as she moved forward to greet the de Rydals.
Richmond could do naught but stare at her; the silken hair cascading to her buttocks, the magnificent sway of her backside when she walked. Dear God… she’d missed him.
She’s told you that before, his inner self reminded him sternly.
She’s told you that countless times. Why should this time be any different?
He continued to gaze at Arissa as she politely greeted Ovid de Rydal, wondering why her declaration of longing was unlike all the rest. Then, it hit him…
there had been something in her eyes. He knew he had not imagined it.
A loud voice jolted Richmond from his thoughts. William was extending his hand in his direction, motioning him forward. Obediently, Richmond joined the de Lohr ranks. There were so many people crowded around Arissa that he was only able to take position behind her.
Inadvertently, he brushed against her and she whirled to him, startled.
He discreetly moved to step away until, much to his surprise, she pressed against him as if she were inexplicably afraid.
Her body, soft and supple and young, scorched his flesh through layers of material and mail. He just stood there and absorbed it.
The day advanced and guests arrived en masse. Richmond kept to Arissa like a shadow as she welcomed her guests, the massive silent protector as the horde of well-wishers descended. When Lady Maude and Regine joined the delegation, he was forced away from Arissa and into the role of distant guard.
As much as he wanted to stand beside her, smelling the faint scent of gardenias, he knew it was better that he assume a distant stance.
Mentally shaking himself and struggling to focus on something other than Arissa, he began to rove about the crowd gathered in front of the earl and his family, his trained eyes scanning the assembly for any signs of threat.
He was not expecting any such danger, but it was his instinct to promote a wary attitude.
That way, surprises were less likely to occur.
He was watching the crowd so intently that he failed to notice Tad de Rydal swagger through the admiring throng, having just come from the Lambourn stables where he had personally settled his charger.
A devilishly handsome man, he thrust himself in front of Lord de Becket and put Arissa’s hand to his lips as if he was sampling the finest nectar.
“My lady, it has been a very long time,” he said in a sickeningly seductive tone. “You have grown more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined.”
Arissa gazed up at the large knight, vaguely remembering the arrogant young heir to the de Rydal fortune. “I…. thank you, my lord.”
He simply grinned, her palm still against his lips. Fairly indiscreetly, she yanked her hand away from his obnoxious mouth and attempted to refocus on her next guest, Baron Wendover. But Tad would not be forgotten so easily.
“Have you an escort this day, my lady?” he said boldly. “I would consider it an honor if you would allow me the privilege of guiding you through this day.”
“She does indeed have an escort, Sir Tad,” William was standing next to his daughter, ever-vigilant. “We thank you for your generous offer, however.”
Tad cocked an eyebrow. The man purely reeked of conceit. “I see. How foolish of me to assume otherwise,” his blue gaze flicked to Arissa once again. “Your betrothed, no doubt?”
Arissa met his conceited gaze steadily. She’d known the man less than a minute; already, she did not like him. “My betrothed is God himself, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other guests to attend to.”
“God himself?” Tad repeated loudly. Much to Arissa’s horror, their conversation was drawing quite an audience. “I am sure I do not understand, my lady.”
“Lady Arissa is not meant for mortal men, Sir Tad,” William said with lagging patience. He did not like the arrogant pup, either. “She was pledged to Whitby Abbey shortly after birth. Now, if you will….”
“Whitby Abbey?” Tad echoed, astonished. His gaze moved between Arissa and William. “You would allow this beautiful young woman to be wasted within the walls of a convent? Surely you jest!”
“’Tis no jest,” Richmond suddenly appeared at Arissa’s side, pulling her against his body protectively. “You have taken a good amount of Lady Arissa and Lord de Lohr’s time. Kindly move along to enjoy the festivities this day has to offer.”
Tad gazed at Richmond, the hostility evident. He was a large young knight, but not nearly as large as Richmond. Obviously, he had no qualms about their difference in size.
“Your name, knight?” he demanded of Richmond.
Richmond’s face was emotionless. “Sir Richmond le Bec.”
A flicker of recognition crossed Tad’s features. “Le Bec…. Henry’s le Bec?”
Richmond nodded, once. Tad took a step back, although his arrogance was not entirely shaken. “I thought…. that is to say, I grew up on stories of your valor. I thought you would have been dead by now.”
“Not hardly,” Richmond’s voice was a growl. Lord de Rydal began tugging on Tad’s arm and the young knight was wise enough to heed the call. But not before he cast a long glance at Arissa.
“My lady, I hope you will save me a dance this eve. I shall look forward to it.”
Arissa gave him a lop-sided smile, her only response.
She would have liked nothing better than to have outright refused the request, but it would not do for the hostess to insult one of her guests.
As the crowd around them began to disband, Richmond clasped her tender white hand in a huge mailed fist.
“Come along, my lady,” he said firmly.
“Where?” Arissa gathered her skirt, glancing at her father’s questioning gaze.
Richmond continued to lead her away. “I have a few duties to attend to. You may accompany me.”
“Duties? Where?”
He slanted her a gaze. “Away from the Tad de Rydals of this world. If you greet any more guests, your hand will surely fall off from sheer overuse.”
She passed another glance at her father, who did not protest Richmond’s removal in the least. Instead, he had turned back to his visitors. Strange, Arissa thought, how her father never questioned Richmond’s actions, even when in direct conflict with his own desires.
Her father had wished for her to greet her guests.
Richmond had decided she’d had enough welcoming for the day and was determined to take her with him as he went about his duties.
Of course, she would rather be with Richmond, but she found it odd that her father had not uttered a word of protest when the knight swept her away.
She skipped after Richmond, aware of his hand tightly about her own.
It began to occur to her than even while she was growing up, Richmond’s word was law when it came to her well-being and upbringing.
Where Regine or Bartholomew were concerned, her father had always had the final say in their lives.
But never with her; it had always been Richmond.
’Twas curious that the puzzlement over Richmond’s authority should happen to cross her mind at that moment. Gazing up at his glorious profile, she couldn’t imagine why her father would allow his friend to take charge of her life in such a fashion.
Certainly, the truth of the matter would never have occurred to her in a million years.