CHAPTER NINE
R IONA SLOWLY turned around, to find Sir Nicholas staring at her, a frown upon his handsome face.
“What did Sir Percival do?” he asked. “Is it because of him that you weren’t in the hall?”
He thought she was afraid to face Percival? “There’s only one man in this castle I wish to avoid, and he’s standing before me now.” She ignored the disgruntled expression that came to Sir Nicholas’s face. “Sir Percival has forbidden his niece to speak to us, and her maidservant, too. My uncle is upset about that restriction. That’s why he wasn’t in the hall tonight.”
“Does that also explain your absence?”
“Yes.”
Sir Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Eleanor gave me to understand there was something more amiss between you and her cousin.”
Riona colored. Clearly, Percival hadn’t hesitated to tell Eleanor, at the very least.
Since Sir Nicholas knew, she couldn’t deny it completely, yet because she didn’t want Percival to leave and take Eleanor with him, she would make light of Percival’s actions. “His advances were certainly not welcome, but his pathetic attempt to kiss me was easily countered.”
Sir Nicholas started for the door. “He’ll regret that, as will anyone who behaves so in my castle. He’ll be gone from Dunkeathe in the morning.”
Riona hurried after him and grabbed his arm to make him stop. She wouldn’t mind seeing Percival in the stocks, but if he was forced to leave Dunkeathe, who could say what might happen to Eleanor? “Don’t!”
Sir Nicholas regarded her with disbelief, and disapproval. “You don’t want the lout punished?”
“He won’t try it again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I hurt him.”
The knight’s eyes flashed. “You hurt him? How?”
“With my knee, my lord. To his groin.”
Sir Nicholas seemed only slightly mollified. “Fortunate for you that you knew what to do, but next time Percival might accost another who is not so well prepared.”
“Then by all means, issue him a warning, my lord,” she replied, “but please don’t make him, and his cousin, leave Dunkeathe.”
Sir Nicholas regarded her stonily. “Why should you care if they stay or go?”
“Because Eleanor’s my friend.”
“You’ve met her before?”
“No, but she’s my friend all the same.” Realizing she was still holding on to him, she let go of his arm and stepped away. “Haven’t you ever met someone and become fast friends in a very short time?”
Sir Nicholas’s expression softened—only a little, but some. “Yes. My steward’s brother, Charles. We met when we were young, and after less than a day, we were friends, until he died of a sudden fever.” He thought a moment, then nodded. “Very well, my lady, they may stay—but I’ll make sure Percival understands that he’d better not make any advances to women, welcome or otherwise, while he’s in Dunkeathe.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, expecting him to go. Hoping he would.
Instead, he looked around her bare chamber, where there was nothing except her small wooden chest and a linen sheet and woolen blanket on the bed. “Are you planning on leaving Dunkeathe?”
“Not now.”
His eyebrows rose questioningly, and she immediately regretted answering. Maybe he would think she was staying out of some bizarre hope that she could win his hand, or that she wanted to. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my uncle’s developed a fondness for Lady Eleanor’s maidservant—”
“I’ve noticed,” he interrupted, coming closer.
What if he tried to kiss her again?
She’d slap his face, and more, if necessary.
“And I can appreciate why he was upset by Percival’s restrictions,” Sir Nicholas continued. “I’ll tell Percival that if he wishes his cousin to stand a chance with me, he had best reconsider those orders.”
“You’d do that?” she asked, telling herself she was relieved to hear that Eleanor was still under consideration.
“As I’ve told you, I have a great respect for the Scots, and any family I marry into should respect them, too.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “I also have a great deal of respect for you, my lady, and your wisdom. I did as you suggested and provided that maidservant with a small dowry to enable her to marry soon.”
“You did?” she asked, surprised and pleased that he’d followed her advice.
“Yes.”
He walked toward her, and the look in his eyes made her heart leap and seem to beat anew. In spite of that excitement, she backed away, ordering herself not to give in to the thrilling yearning filling her, goading her to stand still and let him catch her and sweep her into his arms.
“Percival should thank God you were able to defend yourself,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “If he’d hurt you, Riona…”
His words trailed off into a silence that seemed filled with promise and anticipation.
Desperately she struggled with the emotions roiling through her. She mustn’t want him. She mustn’t want to be with him. She was staying to help her uncle, who wanted to help Eleanor, who needed to get away from her cousin. Eleanor required a husband who would protect her. Eleanor needed Nicholas. “I hope you won’t hold Percival’s behavior against Eleanor. I think any man would be blessed to have her for his wife.”
“You aren’t…jealous?”
“Not at all.” Not really. She mustn’t be. “She’s a very fine young woman, my lord. Pretty and sweet.”
“Too young. Too sweet. I like women of fire and spirit, women who know about hardship and struggle.”
God help her!
She hit the wall. “Good for you, my lord,” she said as he came inexorably closer. “I like men who leave me alone.”
“Why didn’t you hurt me when I kissed you, Riona?”
She swallowed hard. “Because you caught me unawares.”
Liar, liar!
“Can you guess what I want to do now?” he whispered, standing but a few inches in front of her. “What I’m going to do?”
A loud cough sounded in the corridor.
Nicholas immediately stepped back.
She shouldn’t be sorry. She should be glad, relieved, happy as she looked past Nicholas to the door and saw Uncle Fergus peering around the door frame, a quizzical look on his curious face. “Did she tell you everything?” he asked.
“Yes,” Nicholas brusquely answered, his voice rough, his expression cool as ever, while Riona tried to regain her missing self-control.
“Good, good!” Uncle Fergus cried, fairly bounding into the room. “What are you going to do?”
“Have a word with Sir Percival in the morning,” Nicholas replied. “Since you missed the evening meal, please take some refreshment in the kitchen.” He glanced at Riona. “You, too, my lady, if you so desire.”
Then he walked out of the chamber.
The moment he was gone, Uncle Fergus gave Riona a wide, mischievous smile. “Came back a bit too soon, did I?”
It was all Riona could do not to groan with dismay.
W HEN N ICHOLAS returned to the hall he gave no explanation for his abrupt departure, but played the genial host in spite of being anything but pleased. He wasn’t just angry at Percival; he was angry with himself. He’d revealed too much when he was with Riona. Said too much. Done too much.
He had to learn to control his desire for her. There could be no honorable future for them, and he did respect her, far too much to even propose that they share his bed without benefit of marriage.
As Nicholas endured Lord Chesleigh’s observations about the proper way to train horses—something he was sure the man had never actually done himself—he realized Eleanor wasn’t in the hall.
Her cousin was, though, so he made his way to Percival, who was already deep in his cups. “I’d like a word with you, Percival,” Nicholas said with false good cheer as he angled the man into a relatively quiet corner.
Percival gave him an ingratiating smile. “I hope Eleanor didn’t offend you, my lord.”
“Not at all,” Nicholas replied, barely able to contain his loathing. “I’d like to speak to you privately, Percival. Will you join me in my solar tomorrow morning after mass?”
The man’s eyes gleamed with delighted avarice, obviously interpreting this invitation as a good omen. “I’d be honored, my lord.”
Not trusting himself to control his tongue, Nicholas merely smiled and nodded before moving off to talk to Audric, who was a blessed relief from the half-drunk Percival and the smug Lord Chesleigh.
T HE NEXT MORNING, Nicholas stood at the arched solar window, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed his courtyard, his soldiers on watch or preparing to ride out on patrol and his servants helping to load one of his guests’ wagons.
“So, Lady Isabelle has decided to depart?” he asked Robert, who sat at the table checking one of his many lists.
“Yes, my lord,” the steward replied. “Her guardian felt there was no need to linger here.”
“What reason did he give? He may be a minor knight, but I hope I’ve done nothing to give him any serious offense.”
“I suspect Lady Isabelle, whatever her faults, was clever enough to deduce that she wouldn’t be your choice.”
In truth, Lady Isabelle hadn’t impressed Nicholas as much of anything, except a woman. “No, she would not, but I’ll be courtesy itself when he takes his leave. Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”
“A messenger from your sister arrived while we were at mass,” Robert answered. “She thanks you most kindly for the invitation, and she and her family will be arriving in a se’ennight.”
Nicholas faced his steward. It was Marianne’s opinion on his potential brides he sought, not his brother-in-law’s, or that of a four-year-old boy and an infant. “I didn’t invite the whole lot of them.”
Robert regarded him with dismay. “Shall I send another message telling her—?”
“No. I suppose she has to bring the baby, and she doesn’t want to leave Seamus or her husband.”
“They are a very happy and contented family.”
Nicholas didn’t need to be reminded of that. “Anything else?”
“Until the hay is brought in, my lord, we’re going to be a little short of fodder for the stables.”
“Buy what we need from the neighboring estates.”
Robert delicately cleared his throat. “I fear I must remind you, my lord, that we lack an abundance of money. If we could cut back on some of the other expenses—food or drink, perhaps?”
“I don’t want my guests to think I’m poor, or inhospitable.”
“Of course not, my lord. Yet I must point out that we’ve taken quite a gamble spending so much and now—”
“I took the gamble, Robert. Not you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Anything more?”
Robert shifted and toyed with the edge of the rolled parchment he held. “Unfortunately, my lord, while no one has complained about the food or the wine, there have been some murmurings of discontent among the nobles.”
“What about?” Nicholas demanded, thinking of the amount of money he was spending to keep the aristocrats housed, fed and entertained. “If it’s the weather, surely they can’t expect me to do anything about that.”
“No, my lord, not the weather.” Robert cleared his throat again and didn’t meet Nicholas’s steady gaze. “There are questions being asked about the Scot and his niece.”
“What sort of questions?” Nicholas asked, wondering if anyone had guessed that he had feelings for Riona.
“Well, my lord, they wonder why they’re still here. It’s quite clear that they are not wealthy, or influential.”
“Tell them what I told you—they are the only Scots who came and I won’t have other Scots claim I was too proud to entertain the notion of marrying one of their countrywomen, even if no other arrived. My guests should understand I dare not upset the Scots. They all live in fear that one day, the Saxons or the Welsh might rebel. You can also tell my noble Norman guests that Fergus Mac Gordon has some very interesting ideas about livestock that I want to hear.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, my lord.”
Nicholas returned to looking out the window. Sir George came reeling out of the hall. He stopped by the nearest wall and, throwing back his head, relieved himself.
“The wine,” Nicholas muttered.
Robert, on the threshold, hesitated and turned back. “My lord?”
“Save what you can on the wine. Use the best only at meals. At other times, cheaper will do, especially if it’s for Sir George. I don’t think he’ll notice, or care.”
Robert smiled. “No, my lord, I don’t believe he will.”
Sir Percival, in a tunic of bilious green and light blue in a combination that seemed designed to dazzle the eye and boggle the mind, arrived on the threshold of the solar. The steward bowed as he passed him on the way out, while Percival sauntered into the room as if it were his own.
Nicholas wanted to strike him down on the spot. Only the knowledge that he might decide to marry the fellow’s cousin kept his temper under control.
“You wanted to speak to me, my lord? About Eleanor, I hope?”
“Yes, I did.”
The man’s expression changed. He was trying to look as if he wasn’t worried, but Nicholas had spent years among warriors of both bravery and bravado, and he didn’t doubt that beneath those fine clothes, Percival was sweating.
Good. He wouldn’t ask the man to sit, or offer him any wine, either.
“It has come to my attention, Percival,” he said, slowly circling the well-dressed, perfumed young man, “that you have made some improper advances.”
Percival colored, yet he smiled as if this was some kind of merry jest. “I fear there’s been a terrible mistake.”
“And you’ve been the one making it.”
“What did she—?” Percival began, then he caught himself and tried to smile again. “What have you heard, my lord?”
“Enough.”
Percival’s face went from red to white as he paled. He started to stammer something, but Nicholas cut him off.
“I can appreciate that you’re used to women misinterpreting your actions, Percival,” he lied, hating this pathetic excuse of a man with every fiber of his being. “It must be difficult for a fellow as handsome as you to even speak to some ladies without your attention being mistaken for more than mere politeness. I can well believe you’ve unwittingly caused dissension in many a noble household just by your presence alone.”
“Yes, yes, that’s often the case,” Percival eagerly concurred. “Women don’t understand that I’m merely being friendly.”
Friendly? Under other circumstances, Nicholas would give him friendly. “Since you’re such a friendly sort, for the sake of good relations with the other noblemen here in Dunkeathe, I suggest you exercise more care when conversing with the ladies visiting me, both now and when we’re—”
Nicholas stopped as if he’d said more than he intended, then forced himself to smile. “Should I choose your charming cousin.”
That brought a wide, smug smile to the snake’s face. Seeing it made Nicholas want to punch him even more.
“Naturally, my lord, I’ll be happy to comply.”
“Thank you.” Never had it been more difficult for Nicholas to say those words. “I’d also suggest that you refrain from paying too much attention to the maidservants, too.”
Percival laughed, a particularly unpleasant sound that was like a horse wheezing. “What, Sir Nicholas, would you have me act the monk?”
Again Nicholas smiled and addressed him as if they were comrades-in-arms. “The pleasures of the tavern are available.”
“Ah, yes,” Percival replied, as if he were making a great concession.
“There is one other matter I feel I must mention, Percival, and that’s your apparent dislike of the Scots.”
Percival frowned like a petulant child.
“Whatever you may think of them and for whatever reasons, I must remind you that my estate is here in Scotland, and my brother-in-law is a Scot. My bride will have to learn to live here, too, among these people. If you are still so good as to consider bestowing your cousin’s hand upon me, I think she would do well to speak to Lady Riona and her uncle, to try to come to some understanding of the Scots. If she does, that may make my final choice that much easier.”
Percival got an avaricious gleam in his eyes. “I was wondering if you’d be making that decision before Lammas.”
Nicholas gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I must be careful, Percival. Lord Chesleigh is a powerful man, so if I’m not picking his daughter for my bride, I must at least feign finding the choice a difficult one, and that means waiting until Lammas to announce my choice.”
Percival grinned, looking like the ambitious, greedy lout he was. “I understand completely.”
“I thought you would,” Nicholas replied.
Percival threw his arm around Nicholas’s broad shoulders, as if he was already related to him, and said, “Shall we sample the pleasures of the tavern together today?”
It was all Nicholas could do not to grab the man’s arm and twist until he screamed. “You’re welcome to, but I have too many demands upon my time with so many guests.”
Percival dropped his arm and shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Well, that’s a pity, but I suppose that’s the price one must pay as host.” He sauntered toward the door and breezily waved a farewell. “Until later, my lord.”
“Until later,” Nicholas repeated through clenched teeth as he watched him go.