Chapter Four #4
Diara smiled hesitantly. “Good,” she said. “When I came to visit Pembridge last year, I did not have the chance to speak to you, so I look forward to the opportunity.”
“As do I,” Roi said. “But the last time we met, you did what you were supposed to do, which was spend time with Beckett. He had good things to say about you.”
“That is kind,” Diara said. “I found him polite and full of dreams of adventure.”
“I think most young men his age have those dreams.”
“Did you?”
Roi was feeling a little more relaxed with her as he settled back in his chair. “Certainly,” he said. “Though I cannot tell you exactly what they were. I’m sure I had dreams of battling the French, of killing in the name of the king, of being much decorated, like the gladiators of Ancient Rome.”
Diara’s smile grew. “Did you wear a wreath of laurel leaves after your first battle?”
Roi laughed softly at the cute question. “I did not even think of it,” he said. “But if I had, I’m sure I would have. Now I feel as if I have missed something.”
Diara laughed because he was. It was a surprisingly pleasant moment in a conversation where neither one of them was sure there would be such a thing.
It was encouraging.
“Then mayhap after the next battle, I can make you a wreath of holly and plant it right atop your head,” she said with an accompanying gesture. “That would make a bright display.”
He winced. “And a painful one,” he said. “Can we not find a better leaf than holly?”
“Oak, but that can be quite dirty.”
“True.”
“I could always weave a garland of roses, but that might not suit you too well.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thankfully,” he said. “I am not entirely sure I could show my face wearing a garland of roses. But if you made it, I would wear it.”
She smiled, displaying a big dimple in her right cheek. “Ah,” she said. “A man who knows his obligation. If a woman makes it, he wears it. No matter if he likes it or not.”
Roi was grinning, swept up in her obvious charm. “Only a fool would not do as a woman asks,” he said. “I learned that many years ago.”
Diara was smiling openly at him. “And you have carried that knowledge into your adult years.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Beckett’s mother taught me that, in fact. If a man wishes to make his wife happy, then he does as she asks. Truly, it is not difficult, though some men are simply stubborn. But they all learn in the end.”
Diara chuckled. “My father still has not learned,” she said. “If he feels like obeying my mother, he will do it, but mostly, he insists she obey him in all things.”
Roi’s smile faded. “I think your father insists that most people obey him in all things.”
He was referring to the marriage contract and the commotion he’d caused. Diara knew that, and her smile faded.
“Will you tell me truthfully, my lord?” she asked quietly. “Was he terrible to you? If he was, I cannot apologize enough.”
Roi thought her concern to be quite sweet. “Nay,” he said softly. “He was not terrible. I suppose if I had a daughter I wished to marry to a fine husband, I might have behaved the same way.”
Diara shook her head in regret of her father’s behavior. “But he should have waited,” she said. “You have only just lost your son. It was too much of him to expect you to fulfill your son’s obligations.”
Roi shrugged, propping his right foot onto his left knee and brushing the dirt off the heel. “It is done,” he said. “I was the most logical choice, so let us speak no more about it, shall we? I do not want you to think your father tied me to a pole and beat me until I agreed.”
Diara burst out in soft laughter. “If you must know, that was what I envisioned,” she said. “I had this image of my father, who is half your size, wrestling you to a pole and taking a switch to you. Do you mean to tell me that did not happen?”
Roi was back to grinning. “It did not,” he said. “But I had some help in resisting him, to be honest.”
“Who?”
“My elderly father, for one.”
Diara was still laughing. “I have heard tale of Christopher de Lohr,” she said. “Elderly or not, I am certain he could take on an army all by himself and still emerge the victor. Men like him are made of legends.”
Roi appreciated her respect for his father. “They are, indeed,” he said. “And where did you hear tale of him?”
“I fostered at Carisbrooke Castle,” she said. “The House of de Redvers is always in the middle of whatever is transpiring in England. There is not much I haven’t heard through them.”
Roi’s eyebrows lifted. “Did you get on well with the family?”
Diara hesitated. In case Roi happened to be friends with the House of de Redvers, she didn’t want to disparage them, even though she had enough reason to do so. But she forced a smile.
“Lady de Redvers was a great teacher,” she said as neutrally as she could. “I spent several years there. I do like Devon.”
“The House of de Winter has property near Carisbrooke. Do you know them?”
She nodded. “I do, my lord.”
He held up a hand to give her pause. “Wait,” he said. “Before we continue, I would consider it a favor if you would not address me so formally. In private like this, I would be honored if you would call me Roi.”
An expression of warmth flickered across her face. “I would be honored,” she said. “But… I thought your name was Richard?”
He nodded. “It is,” he said. “I was named after my godfather, King Richard. When I was young, I was even called Richie, but somewhere around my eighth year, a family friend called me petit Roi Richard, and from that moment forward, everyone addressed me as Roi.”
She nodded in understanding. “Roi,” she repeated in that soft, soothing tone he found so alluring. “I like that. I would be greatly honored if you would call me Diara.”
“Your father called you Deedee.”
She grinned. “Like you, I inherited a childhood sobriquet.”
“What do you prefer?”
“Whatever you choose,” she said. “I will answer to either.”
He smiled because she was, but there was something more to it.
As he gazed at her, he could feel the warmth from those eyes.
They were the color of periwinkle, as he remembered, but he hadn’t remembered them being so magnetic.
As if he couldn’t look away from her. That giddy feeling he’d been experiencing was only getting worse, which was quite surprising, considering the last time he’d felt giddy was probably back when he was courting Odette.
He couldn’t decide whether it was thrilling or foolish.
He settled on just a little bit thrilling.
“Then I shall decide how to address you depending on the situation,” he said. “And thank you for giving me permission.”
“It is my pleasure, my lord. I mean… Roi.”
He laughed softly, and she joined him. In a private meeting that could have turned out so badly, they had found common ground and a surprising bit of honesty.
Roi had to admit that the conversation—and Diara—had been nothing as he had expected.
Frankly, he was flabbergasted by the whole thing, but not in a bad way.
In a way that gave him hope.
“I’m assuming your mother has a grand feast planned for this evening,” he said. “I’m further assuming that your father is on the other side of that door, his ear pressed against it, wondering what we’re speaking of. Now that we have briefly spoken, it would be kind to let him in.”
“Must we?”
Roi snorted. “Of course not,” he said. “If you do not wish it, then he can remain out there as long as you desire.”
“Good,” she said, suddenly looking around the chamber. “But I do not see any wine. I would pour you some because you must be weary from your journey.”
“I am, a little.”
She rose from her chair. “Then I am afraid we must open the door to allow the refreshments in,” she said. “I do not wish for you to suffer.”
She was standing in front of him in that glorious red dress, and Roi had a difficult time not looking at what was straight in front of him. He struggled to look her in the eye.
“Trust me when I tell you that I am not suffering,” he said. “But opening the door to let the servants bring food and drink would not be unacceptable.”
Diara scurried over to the door, putting her hand on the latch. But she didn’t open it right away. Instead, she paused and looked at him.
“You said earlier that we should take this evening and decide if we truly want to enter into this marriage,” she said. “I… I do not think I need all evening to decide.”
His eyes glimmered faintly. “Nor do I.”
“I have decided that I am agreeable if you are.”
“I decided that the moment you walked into the chamber.”
With a smile that set Roi’s heart to thumping, Diara opened the door to an impatient father.