Chapter Ten #2
“Is that what Tiberius said?” he asked, his voice a rumble. “Exactly?”
Diara nodded. “He said that I was no stranger to spreading my legs, which is how I had managed to bewitch you,” she said, wiping at her eyes.
“He said that Odette was the only wife for you and that they should face the fact that their Uncle Roi was marrying a whore. Now that you know what your nephews and brothers are saying, I will not marry you and be subjected to that manner of vile abuse for the rest of my life. It is not fair to you and it is not fair to me. I want to go home tomorrow. If you will not take me, then I will simply go by myself, but either way, I am leaving. I came up here because I did not want to see your nephews again for as long as I remain at Lioncross.”
By the time she finished, she was weeping softly.
She couldn’t even look at Roi, who so far hadn’t moved a muscle.
He was still on his knees in front of her.
But suddenly, he was reaching down to pull Dorian off her lap.
When Diara tried to protest, he grabbed her by the hand and practically yanked her onto her knees.
“You are coming with me,” he said.
Diara dug in. “Nay,” she said. “I’m not leaving the loft. I’m staying here until the morning, and then I am—”
“Nay, you are not,” he growled, pulling her over to the ladder. “You are coming with me and we are going to settle this once and for all.”
Diara was beginning to pull at him, sobbing as she resisted. “I will not come with you,” she said. “Don’t you understand? I cannot do this to you, Roi. I cannot subject you to those rumors for the rest of your life. They have followed me, and I must accept that, but you did nothing to deserve it.”
“Get on the ladder.”
“Nay!” she shouted, bracing herself against the loft opening. “Are you listening to me? You cannot live your life with men whispering behind your back that you married a whore. I would not do that to you!”
He was already on the ladder, pulling her with him no matter how much she fought back. Finally, he grabbed both of her hands and held them still in a viselike grip.
“Look at me,” he said calmly. “Diara, look at me. That is not a request.”
She was a weeping mess, but she managed to lift her eyes to him. Once he saw that he had her attention, he pulled her hands to his lips and began to kiss them.
“When I volunteered to marry you in my son’s stead, I did it out of duty,” he said quietly. “I did not do it because I had any desire for a wife. I did not do it because of my personal regard for you. I did it because I felt I was morally obligated to do it. Do you understand that?”
She nodded, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Please, Roi,” she begged softly. “Let me go. Let me go home and let us end this before either one of us is truly hurt.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Before either one of us is hurt?” he said.
“Lady, it is too late for that. I buried my son two days ago, and knowing you were in the chapel, feeling your presence, is one of the only reasons I was able to get through it without going mad because somehow, someway, you have gotten under my skin. I never thought I would feel this way again, the way I do when I look at you. The way my heart beats against my ribs at the sight of you. The way my soul takes flight when you laugh. The utter and complete joy I feel when I see you smile. All I know is that I cannot be without you. Please don’t give me a taste of happiness only to take it away.
It’s like giving a man a glimpse of heaven and then denying him entry. ”
Diara was still weeping, but now with the thrill of his words. She stopped resisting him, and her hands moved to his face as he continued to kiss her fingers.
“When I look at you, I see a future I never thought I would have,” she murmured.
“Mayhap it is too soon to tell you that I love you, but I do. I have never loved anyone more in my life. I love the way you make me feel. I love the way you speak to me as an equal, and I love the conversations we have. You are kind and generous and compassionate. That is why I cannot marry you, Roi. I would never torture you with the horrible things men say about me. Can you not understand that?”
He pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely.
“I think I loved you the moment you asked me if I had dreams, just like my son had,” he said.
“And the way I felt when I looked at you… I cannot describe it other than to say it made a grown man like me feel like a squire again. I was never giddy in my life until I met you.”
“But…”
He cut her off with another kiss. “I understand what you are saying as far as the rumors of men,” he said.
“But I told you once and I will tell you again—I will kill anyone who speaks so terribly of you. I have shoulders big enough to bear your burden and I do it gladly, for it is something you should not have to deal with alone. I do not care what men say so long as you love me. That is all that matters to me.”
“Papa?”
A small voice entered the mix, and they both looked over to see Dorian a few feet away, on her hands and knees, looking at her father and Diara apprehensively. When the young woman saw that she had their attention, she scooted over to Diara.
“Papa, you will marry her, won’t you?” she said, laying her head on Diara’s upper arm. “I do not want her to go away.”
Roi smiled wearily at his youngest daughter. “Nor do I,” he said, looking to Diara. “Mayhap if we both beg her to marry me, she will.”
Diara found herself boxed in by a young girl with pleading eyes and a man who kept kissing her hands.
This was the life she wanted, with people who adored her.
But she was afraid—afraid those pleading eyes would turn away from her and she would lose this dream she was so afraid to believe in.
Afraid that the rumors and gossip would finally break him down.
“Roi,” she said softly. “You know I want to, but—”
He interrupted her. “You are so determined to protect me, come what may, that you are stripping me of my pride,” he said.
“I am a competent man, Diara. Deedee. I want to protect you. I want your burdens to be mine. I want to feel needed, because I most certainly need you. Can we not trust one another enough to know that nothing on this earth can separate us? Especially not foolish rumors?”
Diara could feel herself giving in. Deedee, he’d called her. That name had never meant so much to her as it did coming from him. She didn’t want to leave him, anyway, and his pleading was succeeding in tearing down her wall of determination.
“Aye,” she finally said. “I do trust you, I promise. But…”
He began to pull her down the ladder. “Then come with me,” he said, not allowing her to finish. “Come with me because I am going to end this once and for all. Dorian, come with us, sweetheart.”
Diara let him pull her down the ladder, down into the stables below.
He had her by the waist, then by her hand, as if fearful she’d try to get away from him.
He helped Dorian down the rest of the way, and his daughter latched on to Diara’s other hand, which Roi thought was rather sweet.
Truth be told, he’d always felt rather distant from his daughters.
He’d identified so much more with his son.
But he felt rather bad that Dorian was clinging to Diara, a woman she’d just met, and not to him.
That told him a lot about how he’d treated her and her sister, though he really hadn’t meant to.
A problem he would remedy after the more pressing one he was about to address.
He had some brothers and nephews to see.
*
The great hall of Lioncross Abbey Castle was full.
Clouds had moved in just after sunset and a light rain was beginning to fall. Inside the hall, the hearth was blazing and men were feasting on boiled beef and sauced mutton. The ale flowed freely, and somewhere, a soldier had a lute and strains of a song could be heard.
But Roi wasn’t paying any attention to that.
He was focused on his family.
He entered the hall with Diara and Dorian in tow, pulling them through the crowd, heading for the dais where his family was sitting.
The table was crowded with them—Curtis and three of Curtis’ sons, with his mother and Adalia and Christin, and flame-haired Rebecca and her thieving boys.
Further down the table sat Douglas and Westley, his de Shera nephews, and his youngest sister, Honey.
His father sat right in the middle of everything, mostly listening to Curtis and his sons as they undoubtedly discussed something serious, because Christopher seemed quite intense.
But there were more people milling around the dais that he recognized.
People that had come for Beckett’s funeral, including Roi’s two knights, Kyne and Adrius, who had ridden in the escort party from Pembridge.
There was also a local lord from the Welsh border, a Scotsman by the name of Jameson Munro.
But mostly, he noticed that his eldest brother, Peter de Lohr, had arrived at some point during the day from his post of Ludlow Castle with his eldest son, Matthew.
The only people missing from his immediate family were his middle brother, Myles, and his sister, Brielle.
He made eye contact with Peter as he approached the table.
Peter hadn’t been present at the funeral, as busy as he was, but even so, his presence now was most welcome.
Roi had always had a close relationship with his father’s bastard son, and he was glad to see him.
When Peter saw Roi, his face lit up and he broke away from his conversation with Munro, but Roi didn’t have time to greet him at the moment.
He was on a mission.
Without missing a step, he suddenly leapt onto the feasting table on the dais, nearly kicking his nephew, Arthur, in the head as he did so. Food scattered where Roi’s big boots came to rest. As Arthur rubbed his clipped ear, Roi boomed at the entire table.