Chapter Five
“Well done, my lady,” Roi said, lips twitching with a smile. “Where did you learn to shoot with such skill?”
Diara still had the bow in her hand. “Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t only taught domestic things that are expected of women,” she said coyly. “Carisbrooke was a wealth of learning opportunities, and archery was one of them.”
“I can see that.”
“If you need me upon the battlements the next time the barbarians attack, I am at your disposal.”
Roi laughed softly, reaching out to take a bow from Eddard.
It was a warm afternoon, two days after his arrival to Cicadia, and he was finding out just what kind of woman he was about to marry.
He and Diara had spent nearly every moment together since he arrived, and the archery competition was the latest event in days that had been full of such things.
And he’d enjoyed every single minute of it.
In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed anything more.
“I will take that into consideration the next time I need archers in battle,” he said, selecting an arrow as stable servants removed the arrows from the targets several dozen yards away.
“Not to slander your skill, I will say that hitting a moving target is slightly different than hitting a bale of hay.”
Big targets had been raised against the castle wall near the stables as Diara, Roi, Iris, and Pryce competed for the title of Supreme Archer.
Or Queen of the Archers, as Diara so charmingly put it, because she was convinced that she was going to win.
Truth be told, Roi was happy to let her because he very quickly realized that he loved to hear her laugh, and she did a lot of it.
She was a smooth-talking, sweet flatterer and brilliant conversationalist, something he’d never before seen from a woman.
But it wasn’t just with him.
She teased and laughed with her cousin. She did it marginally with Pryce, who mostly stiffened up and seemed nervous when she did it.
She called out to the servant moving the hay bales around, taunting him without making it seem mean-spirited.
She even talked to the dogs that would wander into their range.
As Roi was coming to see, she was just a very friendly person, and a happy one as well.
But he remembered what Westley had told him.
She is evidently quite… friendly.
Absolutely, he could see that she was. It simply seemed to be her personality, and it was clear at Cicadia that she was well loved.
He’d spent two evenings with her, chatting nonstop during supper, and never once did her banter suggest anything inappropriate.
No ribald comments, no sexual innuendos.
Nothing. She was, quite simply, the most charming woman he’d ever met, and he couldn’t believe Beckett had never mentioned it.
His son had only spoken of her in passing, and only rarely, and he’d never mentioned what an enchanting creature she was, which Roi found odd.
But not so odd, considering Beckett hadn’t wanted to marry at all.
Aye, Roi knew that.
He’d ignored it, however. No young man wanted to marry at an early age, and Beckett had been no exception.
There was a whole world out there, as Beckett had put it, that he wanted to see.
He wanted to see and experience everything he could.
There was no crime in that. But the reality of a wife didn’t sit well with him, so in a sense, Roi didn’t blame the lad for not speaking favorably of a wife he never wanted.
But, God’s Bones… what his son had missed out on.
As he was pondering the situation and the woman a few feet in front of him, he suddenly realized that servants were gripping the hay bales, moving them from side to side. He came to stand next to Diara as she tightened up the string of the bow.
“What, pray, is happening with the targets?” he asked, fairly close to her ear. “Have you decided to use men instead of hay?”
Smiling, Diara looked over her shoulder at him. “You said that hitting a moving target is quite different,” she said. “I will prove to you that I can hit a moving target.”
He fought off a grin. “What shall I do if you hit one of those men?”
“Give him a proper burial.”
He lowered his head, laughing low in his throat. “Mayhap you should not hit him and save me the expense.”
“I will try. But no promises.”
He continued to laugh. “You are a cruel, cruel woman, my lady,” he said. “Look at those men—they are positively terrified.”
She stopped fussing with the bowstring. “They must show courage,” she said, selecting her arrow and lining it up. “I do not mean to be rude, but do not speak to me while I am trying not to hit those men. If I do, it will be your fault.”
Smirking, Roi backed away, and after a couple of seconds, Diara let the quill fly. It sailed straight into the center of the hay bale, even though it was moving back and forth, and the men who had been witnessing the competition from the wall above erupted in cheers. Beaming, Diara turned to Roi.
“Well?” she said. “What do you have to say to that?”
He clapped lazily, still smiling at her. “I say that my betrothed is the most skilled, the most brilliant, and the most beautiful woman in all of England,” he said. “I say that I am a very fortunate man.”
The big grin on her face turned to one of genuine warmth, and he could see her cheeks growing pink.
“Do you really?” she said, sounding as if she didn’t believe him. “Or are you simply saying that because I bested you?”
Eyes riveted to hers, he reached out and took the bow from her. “I most assuredly mean it,” he said softly. “I do not say anything I do not mean. You are the most skilled, brilliant, and beautiful woman I have ever had the honor to meet.”
Diara let him take the bow. She was so pleased by his kind words that she was feeling a little flushed.
And the way he looked at her… sweet Jesus, the man had a gaze that could cut through steel.
She felt as if he was looking right down into her heart, for if he really could, he would see just what these past two days had meant to her.
Everything.
They had meant everything.
“You flatter me, my lord,” she finally said, lowering her lashes. “I do not know what to say.”
“Say that you are pleased with this betrothal.”
She lifted her gaze. “I am very pleased,” she said. “Do you not know that?”
Roi’s gaze never left her face as he held out the bow for someone to take from him. When Pryce reached out to grasp it, fully aware that Roi couldn’t take his eyes of Diara, Roi simply held out an elbow to her.
“Walk with me,” he said quietly.
Diara latched on to his arm with both hands, and the two of them headed off toward the center of the bailey, where they could have some privacy.
At this time of day, it was the least crowded part of the yard.
Leaving Pryce and Iris to pick up the bows and arrows from their game, they wandered in the direction of the kitchen yard.
Diara clung to Roi’s big arm, feeling the strength and firmness beneath her grip.
On the wall overhead, she could see Mathis near the gatehouse, watching them.
She knew why.
Truthfully, she was surprised he hadn’t tried to interfere over the past couple of days.
Mathis had been offering for her hand since before she went away to foster, but her father had turned him down repeatedly.
Mathis was a friend and nothing more in her eyes, and he knew it, which made the situation worse for him.
Diara could only imagine how difficult it must be for the man to watch her show affection to someone else, and there had been times in the past when he’d deterred or otherwise intimidated suitors that had come to call.
But not with Roi; Mathis knew he couldn’t get away with anything.
The man would probably squash him like a bug.
But she wondered if Roi had sensed anything from the quiet, moody knight.
“Well?” she finally said. “Where shall we have the crowning ceremony?”
He looked at her. “What crowning ceremony?”
“Because I am the Queen of the Archers.”
He chuckled. “I see,” he said. “I suppose we can do it in the hall tonight. I will put you on a table and insist all worship at your feet.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me.”
Diara broke down into soft laughter, indicating she wasn’t at all serious about the crowning. Well, not really. But it was fun to tease him.
“May I ask you a question, Roi?” she said.
“You do not have to ask permission to ask a question,” he said. “Simply ask me. I will answer if I can.”
“How long are you going to remain at Cicadia?” she asked. “And when you leave, will I go with you?”
Roi nodded. “Your father wishes for us to be married right away,” he said. “Did he tell you that?”
Diara shrugged. “My mother has,” she said. “Have you agreed?”
He glanced at her. “That is your decision.”
“Why is it my decision?”
“Because I want to make sure this betrothal is agreeable to you,” he said. “Why do you think I have been here for two days? I wanted us to come to know one another a little. I want us to be certain.”
She came to a stop and looked at him. “I told you that I was certain the first night you were here,” she said. “But if you feel you need more time to make your decision, then I will go along with whatever you wish.”
He looked at her, his eyes glimmering. “And I told you that I was also agreeable on that first night,” she said. “That has not changed.”
“Then why do you feel we must wait?”
“I simply want to make sure you’ve not changed your mind.”
“I haven’t. Have you?”
He shook his head. “I shall say it again,” he said. “I am the most fortunate man in the world. When you become my wife, I shall be the proudest one as well.”