My Lady's Choice

Now he had just paid her a very high compliment, indeed. Since no one else was near enough to overhear his words, Sara regarded them as genuine and not for show. How heartening.

She watched the movement of his large, capable hands as he cut a bite-size portion of meat and held it out to her on his eating knife.

His gaze fastened on her mouth. Sara reached out and touched his wrist lightly as though to steady his aim and felt his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips. Desire flamed in the green depths of his eyes as it often did when they came close.

If only she could persuade him to act upon that impulse, Sara thought she might make those smiles of his become real. Though she knew her limitations as a temptress, she also understood his needs. She could meet them if he would only let her.

No woman at Fernstowe, including the promiscuous Darcy, would dare usurp her place in Richard’s bed. Not unless Sara herself suggested it to them.

Her offer of Darcy had been made only to see whether the man would ever seek another. His reaction to it reassured her. Richard did not hold with infidelity.

Sara hoped that he would relent in his attitude toward her if they became intimate. Surely two people could not share such closeness and remain strangers for long.

Aside from that aim, anticipation flowed through her veins like warm, sweet wine each time he was near. Sooth, even when he was not, she thought about it.

When she had received the bite of meat, Richard abruptly turned away. But Sara did not worry overmuch. His reluctance would fade one of these days. He still felt trapped. She would grant him time enough to come to terms with all that had happened. No need to hurry.

She quickly sought a topic of conversation that would lighten his mood. “Your messenger will have reached Gloucestershire some while ago. Should the children not arrive soon?”

He nodded and concentrated on his food. “In a few days, if all goes as planned. Both ride well and will not need to come by cart. My father will send them under escort. I’ve requested two of his knights and I expect they will stay on here. You could use more men accustomed to arms until the border problem is resolved.”

“Do tell me about them.” She leaned toward him, eager to hear.

“The knights?”

Sara laughed. “Nay, your children! I do not even know their names.”

He looked suspicious. “Why do you pretend interest?”

“No pretense, Richard,” she assured him. “I am interested.”

“Why?” he asked, idly stabbing at his trencher with the knife.

“Because I look forward to being a mother.”

For a long moment, he was silent. Then he acceded, though his words were gruff. “Christopher is seven and big for his age. Has the look of me, they do say. It is past time he began training as page, but my mother has put it off.”

“Then we shall begin his instruction as soon as he has settled in. Now, what of your daughter?” Sara asked.

Richard’s hand stilled. Then he carefully laid down his knife and turned to face her. “She has suffered enough, my Nan, so do not think I’ll let you make a servant of her.”

Taken aback by his sudden vehemence, Sara shook her head. “Oh, Richard, I had no such notion.”

“See that you do not. Nan shall be taught a lady’s skills so that she might marry well one day. Her birth is not to be discussed in her presence. Not by anyone. Is that understood?”

“I agree,” Sara said. “Does she know that she is your natural child?”

He snorted with disgust and looked away. “People have beaten her about the head with that fact since the day of her birth. Always behind my back, be assured. But if it happens here, I shall know it and there will be consequences.”

Sara smiled with relief and delight. “You love her.”

He sighed heavily and rested his elbows on the table. “She has no one else.”

Sara reached out and encircled his arm with her hands, unable to help showing how much she admired him. “Rest your mind on that score, Richard. Your Nan will have me, as well.”

That earned her a wary look of hope. He did not quite believe her, but she could see that he wanted to. That was progress.

Sara determined then and there that no matter what his children were like, she would make them as welcome as if she had birthed them herself.

She patted his arm fondly and let go of him. “Now, finish your meal and go above for a rest. We must get you completely well before Christopher and Nan arrive. Nothing troubles a child more than seeing the father less than hardy. I speak as one who knows.”

He rose and accompanied her toward the entrance. It felt almost natural now, this walking side by side in step, her arm looped through his. Progress, indeed. Yesterday, he would have stalked away and left her standing there.

“Your father was often ill?” he asked, his voice almost conversational, as though they truly were companions and he cared about her answer.

“Healthy, for the most part, but I have seen him wounded a few times. Father was never the most cautious of men.” She remembered well her feelings whenever she had seen her sire bedridden. “As a girl, I much feared he would die and leave me.”

“And so he did,” Richard reminded her. She heard the sympathy in his voice, even though he tried to sound blunt. The man had a good heart, but worked so devilish hard to hide it from her.

She frowned up at him. “Aye, he died. But I was no longer a girl when it happened. Though one is never prepared to lose a father, I was able to keep things going much as he would have done.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Until you found you must marry.” As they climbed the steps, he asked, “Those two suitors of yours cannot be the only bids for your hand in all these years. Why did you wait so long? Most women are wed, or at least betrothed, at half your age.”

Sara pulled open the door, not waiting for him to do her the courtesy. “I grew old awaiting the right man,” she said brightly. “And, lo, I have found you.”

She grinned up at his dark expression and fiercely in-drawn breath. Good Lord, why did she feel so obliged to bait him? Must be because he always reacted so obligingly, she thought.

Her wicked teasing would one day be the death of her, but somehow she could not resist. “You are entirely too grave, Richard,” she admonished playfully. “I did but jest.”

“I failed to find humor in it.”

“Well, I guessed that right away. What must we do to make you laugh, I wonder?” She sidled away from him and then turned toward the kitchens.

His eyes remained on her back until she was out of sight. She could feel the heat of his glare. It warmed more than her heart, she thought with a secret smile.

Richard watched Sara’s hips sway as she left him standing in the hall. She did that apurpose, he knew.

With those long legs and slender curves, the woman had to work at that enticing, follow-me saunter. She usually moved with a firm and purposeful stride. She continued to taunt him, now without any words.

Despite knowing that, he was still watching when the hall door burst open just behind him.

A breathless lad he’d met earlier gasped, “Milord…banners. Royal. Quarter league distant. A herald rides hard for the gates.”

King Edward. Richard groaned beneath his breath. He was not looking forward to this.

Chapter Five

Richard reached for the boy’s shoulder and gave him a gentle push toward the kitchens. “Go and inform my lady the king’s almost here. She must join me in the bailey to greet him.”

Richard had barely made the bottom step before Sara caught up and passed him in a flurry of skirts. No foolish prancing now, he thought, hiding a grin. She ran like a courier with news of attack.

He calmly observed her sending everyone about her into a state of panic.

Several moments later, he saw that he’d been mistaken. Every soul left in the courtyard had been given a specific task to perform and each was about it.

By the time the king and his retinue arrived, Richard wagered the tables still standing from the earlier feast would be laden with more food.

He had to admit, Sara of Fernstowe did not wait upon fate. She caused things to happen. And wasn’t he a case in point?

A short time after, the gates opened to admit Edward and a score of troops, many of whom were comrades Richard had known and served with most of his life.

All would know the tale of his hasty marriage. Probably found it amusing to one degree or another. Richard decided to put a good face on it, just as he had done for Sara’s people.

He threw up a hand and smiled winningly, as though content with it all, then bowed low to Edward.

He noted Sara had smoothed her hair, sucked in a few deep breaths and had a pleasant expression firmly fixed on her face. She curtsied at his side as was proper and looked fully prepared to meet the devil himself. “Well-done,” he heard himself whisper.

She flashed him a brief but heartfelt smile before she composed her face into a mask of earnest welcome for their royal guest.

“Ha, there he stands, by God! Alive and well!” the king shouted as he dismounted. He ignored all the bows and murmurs of Fernstowe’s people and marched forward.

Richard rose from his bow. “Well come, my liege.”

“And glad are we to hear you say it,” Edward replied heartily. He took Sara’s hand and bade her rise from her curtsy. “My dear Lady Sara. Has this knave made you regret saving his hide?”

“Not for a moment, sire. He does me all honor,” Sara said demurely.

Richard did not miss the wry twist to her lips or the twinkle in her eyes as she said it. Neither did the king for he threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

They thought this a grand jest, the two of them, to marry him off while he was in a stupor. As much as he resented what they had done, he knew better than to complain. Instead, he pursed his lips and nodded, granting Edward his drollery, acknowledging that he could play the fool with good grace.

The king’s laughter trailed off as he trained his keen gaze upon Richard until tension trembled the air around them. Then he spoke. “We must speak together.”

Sara beckoned. “Come inside, please, sire. The solar will be comfortable.” She led the way to the steps.

“Madam, forgive us,” Edward said courteously. “I would speak to your husband in private.”

“Oh, of course,” she said with a small shrug. “Shall I send in wine and food for you?”

“No, we shall join the company out here anon. Meanwhile, do not let my men inconvenience you. We will take our leave within the hour.”

Richard did not insist that they remain here any longer than necessary. He ushered the king into the solar, eager to have done with their discussion. It surely involved the trouble with the Scots, probably the activities of his brother.

“Why have you come this way again, sire? You know it is not yet safe hereabout.”

“You dare question my moves now, Richard?”

“It’s a fair concern on my part. Last time you were here, you nearly met death. Who is to block the arrows for you if I can no longer ride beside you?”

“Who, indeed?” The king strolled over to the cushioned chair usually reserved for Sara and took a seat. Richard remained standing until Edward motioned impatiently for him to sit.

He pulled up a sturdy bench and straddled it. One always sat lower than the king. “Where is young John? Did he remain in York?”

The king looked away as though uncomfortable. “I knighted him. I knew you would not mind. He is almost eighteen now, after all. His father wished it and John was ready.”

Richard did mind. He had fostered John of Brabent for over five years, since the lad was thirteen. It was Richard’s place to say when knighthood was in order. Lord Brabent had not wanted his son to return to this troubled part of the country, that was the gist of it. Probably wise of him, since his son was not as ready to don spurs as the king thought.

“How are matters in York?” Richard asked, brushing his disappointment aside.

Edward scoffed. “Same as ever. Unruly nodcocks.” He leaned forward. “Richard, I am come because my conscience will not let me sleep. I fear I’ve done you a wrong you do not deserve.”

Did he dare reply to that? Did the king mean setting him against his Scottish brother, or did he speak of the unconventional marriage?

“The queen was not amused,” Edward admitted. “She writes that she spoke to the archbishop on your behalf. The marriage can be undone,” he said, answering Richard’s question in as apologetic a tone as he’d ever heard the king use. “Unless you have bedded the girl. Then I suppose you would feel honor-bound to stay with her. You have not, have you?”

“No,” Richard admitted, feeling very uneasy when he should be delighted.

“Because you’ve not been well enough, or because she displeases you so much?”

“It is true that I did not wish to marry,” Richard equivocated. Now was his chance. Why wasn’t he jumping at it, grabbing at the opportunity for an annulment? He would. “What will happen to her if we invalidate the marriage and I leave here?”

The king lifted one shoulder and cocked his head. “I shall give her to someone else.”

“Who?” Richard demanded.

“Lord Aelwyn, I expect. He’s best prepared to hold the place since his own lies close.”

“No!” Richard almost shouted, then carefully lowered his voice. “Not him.”

Edward chuckled. “Do you know the man? Is he unworthy?”

Richard had to admit he’d never met Sara’s suitor, nor did he wish to. “No, but Sara did not want him to begin with and should not be forced to wed where she will be unhappy. You did promise her a choice.”

The king waved that away as unimportant. “Aelwyn must want her right badly for some reason. Likely to increase his property. Many would not persist in a suit as he has done, once they saw that face of hers.”

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