Timeless Tales of Honor (54 page)

Arissa's eyes opened wide with surprise. "He.... he did not kill the soldier?"

Gavan shook his head. "A few men witnessed Regine's seduction. In fact, one man even heard Regine order him into compliance. Although the soldier should have known better, he was more or less coerced by an aggressive young girl who demanded he teach her the finer arts of sexuality," he snorted softly. "I would have hoped that Regine would have outgrown this peculiar phase she seemed to have entered into last year. To demand a common soldier into taking her virginity is bizarre at best."

Arissa let out a sigh of disbelief, of relief. "And Richmond will allow Regine to tell father what she’s done?"

"She’s six months."

Arissa turned away from Gavan, almost weak with alleviation. She had spent the past hour hating Richmond for ruining her party with his misplaced sense of determination when, in fact, he had dealt with the situation as befitting his wisdom and tact. Since he had never said exactly what he had intended to do, she had assumed the worst. She should have trusted him. Hesitantly, she turned her gaze to Gavan.

"Surely he’s angry with me," she said softly. "I said hateful words, Gavan. Is that why he sent you here? Because he’s too angry to come himself?"

Gavan shook his head. "Nay, Riss. He sent me because he thought you might punch him in the nose if he attempted to show his face. He wanted to make sure your anger had cooled."

She smiled, ashamed of her rage. "I was foolish, I suppose. I should have trusted him."

"Aye, you should have. Richmond has always had your best interests in mind," his gaze moved over her black head, looking at her through new eyes. Certainly she was an incredibly beautiful woman; he'd always thought so. He should have realized Richmond's attraction long ago.

Arissa nodded in agreement as Gavan pondered his thoughts. She noticed his distant expression but attributed it to his long ride from London. Her face brightened as she changed the subject. "We missed you during the Stick and Ball game today. It was most exciting."

Gavan chuckled softly. "Richmond is much better at the game than I. Moreover, I understand the earl's team was victorious without my help."

Arissa raised her dark eyebrows, her expression humorous. "Nonetheless, you were missed. Richmond did not have you to knock over the opposing players, making his victory much harder fought."

He laughed again. ""Tis all I am good for, truly. Knocking down men who oppose Richmond's tyranny."

Arissa put her hands on his arm. "You think too little of yourself, Gavan. I am sure you are good for other things, although I cannot think of any at the moment." Slipping her fingers into the crook of his elbow, she laughed happily at his insulted expression, deeply relieved that he had come to explain the turn of events. Suddenly, she felt very much like attending her party. "Shall we go downstairs? Bart promised me a special performance."

Gavan cocked an eyebrow. "God's Teeth, more paganistic teachings? Or, mayhap, he plans to reenact the entire battle of Marathon; portraying five thousand soldiers all by himself."

She wagged her finger at him as they moved for the door. "My brother is a great actor, Gavan. I forbid you to criticize his talent."

Gavan opened the door for her. "Your brother is a loon."

"'Tis the future earl you speak of."

"The future earl is a loon."

She laughed as he escorted her into the corridor. Gavan passed a glance at her beautiful face, knowing exactly why Richmond was in love with her. He loved his own wife for the very same reasons; beauty, life, spirit, purity of the soul. And knowing how he felt about his own wife, he also knew without a doubt that he would shrivel and die without her by his side.

As they took the stairs into the gallery, he could only imagine the torment Richmond was feeling at the direction his destiny had taken. With all of the political turmoil threatening the crown, a bevy of personal problems was an unwelcome factor.

If Arissa only knew the whole of it. He listened to her voice as she spoke, listening but not truly hearing her. He couldn't help but wonder if the impending future would somehow alter the spirit within her, quell the life. As she was destined for Whitby Abbey and Richmond found himself facing an unwanted betrothal and a potential civil war, it would seem that a permanent wedge was to be driven between them.

Desperately in love but prevented from being together. As the bright light from the gallery hit Gavan in the face, he couldn't ever remember a darker situation.

"
R
iss
, where have you been?" Bartholomew snatched her away from Gavan as soon as she entered the hall. "I have been waiting for you!"

Arissa kept an eye out for Richmond as Bartholomew swept her deep into the room. "I am sorry, I was not feeling well."

He led her towards the head table where William and Maude were seated. Mossy was absent, as was usual; just as Richmond shied from a crowd, Mossy avoided social gatherings at all costs and Arissa was not surprised to discover him to be truant. Regine, however, was lingering by the edge of the table, in conversation with Emma. When she caught sight of her sister, her blue eyes widened.

"No matter," Bartholomew said, rushing his sister towards the long table. "Take your seat and I shall commence."

William and Maude noticed their daughter's approach, rising to their feet as Bartholomew practically tossed the birthday girl onto the dais. Arissa stumbled with her brother's rough treatment, passing him an intolerant glance as she moved for her customary chair. On her father's left hand, Richmond usually sat to her left. His seat was vacant.

Bartholomew disappeared as she took her chair. William greeted her fondly, demanding food and wine for the guest of honor. As a trencher was brought forward, the earl commanded the small minstrel orchestra situated in the corner of the hall to begin their program in tribute to his daughter's arrival.

Her appetite was customarily weak as she scanned the room for Richmond, listening to her father's voice as he conversed with Baron Buscot. Several retainers were hovering about the head table, men she did not recognize and had no interest in meeting. At the moment, her primary concern was locating Richmond.

She was greatly distracted from her search, however, as guests began to approach, relaying congratulations and delivering small tokens of their esteem. Lady Maude moved from her husband's right hand, taking a position beside her daughter as friends and allies paid their respects. Arissa's patience was brittle, but she tried her best to be cordial in the midst of a plethora of compliments.

The crowd about the dais was growing larger and Gavan and Carlton took position in front of the table, controlling the throng and making sure there was not an eager stampede. Maude delivered most of the thanks, an extremely gracious woman while her daughter offered feeble words of gratitude. The fact that Richmond was missing upset her greatly, reflective in her somber mood.

The crowd began to die down when a troop of dancers assumed their places near the orchestra. From Macedonia, their costumes were a mixture of bright colors, mostly greens, reds and whites, and embroidered with elaborate patterns. Arissa actually found her interest captured as they began their intricate dance, women with women and men with men.

Her father leaned toward her as the performers cavorted about in the center of the room. "Do you like them? The Earl of Kent commissioned the group to perform at the celebration we attended last month in honor of his birthday. I thought you might appreciate their skills."

She nodded, kissing her father on the cheek dutifully. "They are wonderful, Father," her gazed moved from the dancers to the gallery surrounding her. "Where's Richmond?"

William glanced about disinterestedly. "I do not know. I saw him earlier. But I see that Gavan found you."

She nodded, returning her attention to the dancers as a serving wench topped her wine. "I hope Emma does not throw herself at him like she did the last time he was here."

William snorted, drinking deeply of his chalice. "Gavan has more women throwing themselves at him than he can handle. I have never seen such a reluctant object of adoration."

The music picked up pace and the performers commenced with a lively routine. The group of guests clapped in rhythm as a line of male dancers began to dance in a well-orchestrated circle, dropping to their knees and bounding to their feet as the music demanded. Arissa continued to observe with growing interest when a body suddenly moved beside her.

"I think they're boring," Regine sniffed, perching herself on the seat Richmond usually occupied. "I want to dance."

Arissa peered closely at her younger sister, noting that the girl was barely resting her bottom on the chair. "We will be dancing all night. And I do not think the performers are boring in the least."

Regine did not reply, lifting her shoulders in a spoiled gesture. A serving wench passed by with a full trencher and Regine imperiously demanded that it be placed in front of her. The plate was barely settled before the plump young girl was digging into the food with both hands.

The group of performers executed several dances. Regine finished her trencher and greedily consumed two goblets of fine wine as Arissa wait for Richmond to make an appearance. Her attention was diverted from the entertainment at one point when she saw Emma and Gavan to be in conversation, but Emma seemed to be controlling her urges rather well and Gavan was actually smiling.

Satisfied the situation did not require her intervention, she returned her focus to the last few moments of the Macedonian act and wondered if Richmond was ever going to show himself. She did so want to apologize for her hateful words.

The performance abruptly came to an end and the gay audience applauded loudly. Just as the dancers were leaving the floor, a shadow fell across Arissa from behind. Huge hands reached down for Regine.

"Remove yourself, lady," Richmond's voice was low. "You are in my chair."

Regine leapt to her feet as if his touch had burned her, stumbling in her haste to dislodge her blistered bottom from the embroidered seat. Her eyes were big on Richmond as she gave the man a wide berth, scampering away in fear. Richmond did not so much as pass her a glance as he assumed his seat beside Arissa.

Arissa's gaze was anxious as she looked upon him. He kept his attention averted, however, shoving aside Regine's trencher and summoning his own. Only when he was served with both food and drink did he turn his focus to Arissa.

Arissa lost her breath with the intense look in his eye. They blazed upon her and instinctively, her palms began to sweat. But it was more than his gaze; the overall picture of Richmond le Bec was enough to strike her speechless. The magnificent presentation lain before her had been well worth the wait.

He was armorless. She'd never seen him armorless on a social situation. Clad in a dark blue tunic, simple but masculine, black breeches and his customary black boots, he looked absolutely stunning. The swelling on the bridge of his nose had almost disappeared and the cut above his eye was practically invisible. He was glorious.

"Greetings, my lady."

She swallowed hard, followed by a feeble smile. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. "Good eve, my lord."

He returned her smile, his eyes glittering. "Your party seems to be a success already. What did you think of the Macedonian dancers?"

"They were wonderful," her voice was strangely tight. She couldn't care less about the Macedonian dancers at the moment. "Where have you been? I thought.... I thought mayhap you had decided not to attend."

His brow furrowed momentarily. "Why would you think that? I do apologize for my tardiness, however. After a day of rolling in the dirt I thought it best to bathe before attending your celebration, lest I chase off your guests with my foul odor."

Her smile turned genuine. "Where is your armor?"

"I cannot dance in armor."

"You plan to dance? Richmond, I do not believe I have ever seen you dance."

"Because I have never danced with you."

A charming blush crept into her cheeks and she looked away, taking a dainty sip from her chalice. The evening was looking brighter already.

"Thank you for sending Gavan to escort me," she said quietly. "I am sorry he did not bring Kathryn."

"Kathryn cannot travel in her pregnant condition and Gavan is nervous enough without the added risk of a long ride," he glanced across the room. "Emma, however, does not share your view."

Arissa looked over her shoulder. Emma was following Gavan around as he moved about the room. He was seeing to the security of the gallery as Carlton and Daniel enjoyed themselves and did not need the added distraction of Emma's company.

Arissa shook her head at her aggressive friend. "I shall go and speak with her."

He put his hand on her arm as she moved to stand. "Gavan is a grown man and can handle himself against the onslaught." When Arissa relaxed into her seat, he smiled at her. "I demand that you ignore the rabble and enjoy yourself. This is your party, is it not?"

She returned his grin. "It is." After a lengthy pause, her smile faded. "I am sorry I became angry with you, Richmond. I should not have said what I did."

He patted her hand, a quick squeeze before releasing it. "There is nothing to forgive, kitten. If anyone should apologize, it should be I for upsetting you so on your birthday."

"You had every right to be angry," she lowered her voice so her father would not hear. "I approve of the manner in which you handled the situation. You are exceedingly wise."

He cocked a dark eyebrow, finishing the insult. "As befitting my age."

She smiled. "Your words, my love, not mine."

Arissa watched Richmond through dreamy eyes as he devoured his meal. He cast her an occasional wink, his favorite gesture, trying desperately not to appear too upswept with her delightful beauty. But it was terribly difficult when her sweet face was a mere foot from his own, her green eyes watching his every move.

More than that, he was positive that if she gazed into his eyes long enough, she would be able to read of his terrible guilt, his sweeping grief. Discovering his betrothal not an hour before still had him reeling with shock, a shock that transformed into unimaginable pain every time he gazed in Arissa's eyes. He knew, without a doubt, that she would take the news much harder than he had.

Arissa suddenly leaned against his arm, sending a surge of shock bolting through his body. His first reaction was to move away from her lest William take note their close contact, but in the next breath he realized that Arissa had oft leaned against him over the years, an affectionate gesture and nothing more. And if she was not leaning on him, she was sitting upon his lap and demanding stories. There was nothing unusual about their contact and he struggled to maintain a casual manner.

Her cheek against his massive bicep, Arissa yawned. "When are they going to commence dancing?"

He gazed down at her dark head, resisting the urge to deposit a kiss on the raven tresses. "Give the word, kitten, and I shall command it."

She raised her head, gazing up at his incredible face. "The word is given. I want a lively dance, if you please."

He frowned, feeling himself being sucked into the powerful vortex of her gaze. "Not too lively. I will not be able to keep pace."

"You mean you are too old to keep pace," she laughed softly at his menacing expression. "Hurry, now. Go and tell them to begin playing before I fall asleep."

"You would fall asleep at your own party?"

It was a comment more than a question. Obediently, he rose to his full height and Arissa couldn't take her eyes off him. Casting her a bold wink, he stepped around his chair and moved off the dais. Just as he was passing in front of the table en route to the orchestra, he came to an abrupt, if not disbelieving, halt. Arissa tore her eyes off of him long enough to glance to the source of his focus.

Bartholomew was moving into the room, clad in yards and yards of white fabric that had been dirtied with soot or some other sort of blackness. His face was painted white and dark circles ringed his faded blue eyes. Beside her, she heard her father groan.

"Good Christ, now what?" he said miserably, motioning to Richmond standing on the other side of the table. "Get him out of here, Richmond. I shall not have him spoiling the celebration."

Richmond stepped in Bartholomew's direction, but Arissa leapt to her feet and held out a quelling hand. "No, Richmond, leave him alone. He’s about to perform a special skit in honor of my birthday."

Richmond halted his forward momentum, his gaze moving between Arissa and her father. William focused on his daughter. "What sort of skit? Did he tell you?"

"Of course not, father. It is a surprise."

William cast a long glance at his son, who was currently taking position by the elaborate hearth. He shook his head slowly. "He looks as if he’s just survived a bout with the plague. What sort of performance could he be planning with that costume?"

Lady Maude stood up on the other side of her husband. "If it is in honor of his sister's birthday, then we will all sit and enjoy it. No matter what it is," she regained her seat, waving a stern hand to Richmond. "Return to your seat, Richmond."

Richmond obeyed. As soon as he pulled his chair up to the table, Arissa wound her warm fingers around his hand. Under the table, he clutched her tightly.

The crowd saw that Bartholomew was about to speak and a hush settled over the smoke-hazed room. Bartholomew faced his sister, his parents, and raised his arm in simulation of a Roman salute.

"Greetings, friends, guests, relatives, honored nobles. In tribute to my sister's most monumental day of birth, I have prepared a prolific Greek prose that, in itself, hinges the meaning of life," he focused on his sister dramatically. "For you, my dear sister. Congratulations that you have achieved this day:

'Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate,

Sad Acheron of sorrow black and deep;

Cocytus named of lamentation loud

Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon

Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.'"

The prose was delivered with great flourish, gloom-and-doom that would be better suited for a funeral than a birthday celebration. William put his face in his hand and shook his head with disbelief while the rest of the hall was deadly silent, listening with intense concern and puzzlement.

"He’s praising her by reciting a poem about the River Styx?" Gavan was suddenly crouched by Richmond's left hand. Two seats down, Daniel and Penelope sat with open mouths as Bartholomew raised his voice with great theatrical control. Regine, loitering at the end of the table, watched her sister and Richmond closely for their reaction.