Mayhap she had been seduced rather than raped by Nicholas.
Mayhap she even had some affection for her neighbor. It was possible that she had enjoyed her four days with Nicholas but had not wanted to marry him for some reason that had nothing to do with passion.
That last thought did not please Gareth.
Clare stood stiffly in his arms at first, her back rigid, her mouth tightly sealed. A strange sense of despair welled up within him. He wondered if the aura of spring that radiated from the lady was a false one. If she had ice in her veins, he was doomed to a wintry bed.
It should not matter, but it did.
By the devil, it mattered.
And then Clare trembled slightly. She made a tiny little sound and her lips softened beneath his own. Gareth discovered what his senses had suspected from the first. Kissing Clare was like kissing the petals of a flower. She tasted fresh and sweet.
There was nectar buried deep within the petals. Gareth found it and drank deeply. His tongue touched her own. She started but did not pull away. Instead she leaned closer, apparently as curious as he to learn what their future held.
Her fingertips glided along the back of his neck beneath his hair. She sighed softly into his mouth. It was a breathless little sigh of budding passion.
Gareth's entire body reacted as though he had downed a potent elixir.
A surging rush of desire swept through him. His hands shook a bit as he tightened his hold on her. Her mouth was soft, ripe, and very inviting.
Gareth had promised himself only the briefest of sips, but the potion in the heart of the blossom proved too intoxicating. The urge to down it all overwhelmed his senses and threatened to destroy his self-mastery.
He cupped her face in his hands and drew his thumbs along the line of her firm little jaw. She was as finely made as the exquisite tapestries that hung on the walls of her hall.
He let his hands skim the curves of her body. The promise of vibrant life was waiting for him here in the gentle curves of Clare's breasts and in the flare of her hips. An aching need twisted his gut. He flexed his fingers around her waist.
Clare's hands shifted to settle like butterflies on his shoulders. She touched the tip of her tongue very tentatively to his lower lip. Gareth could feel her breasts, round and full as summer fruit, pressing against his chest.
'You will give me fine, strong sons,' he said against her mouth.
She drew back with a small frown. 'And mayhap a daughter or two.' There was a crisp edge on her words that told him he had somehow managed to offend her.
'Aye.' He stroked her spine with the sort of soothing movement he would have used on his proud, temperamental war-horse. 'Twould suit me well to have a clutch of daughters as well made and as intelligent as their mother.'
She looked up at him with perceptive, searching eyes as though trying to peer into his very soul.
'I cannot guarantee that you will have children of me, sir, let alone that they will be sons. No woman can make such promises.'
'The only guarantee I seek and will most certainly have from you, madam, is a vow that any babes you do give me will be of my blood.'
Her gem-green eyes widened, first in shock and then in anger. She took a swift step back, wrenching herself out of his grasp.
'How dare you even imply that I would deceive you in such a fashion,' she shot out fiercely.
He studied her, trying to read the truth in her eyes. But he could see only the blazing feminine outrage.
He had blundered badly. That much was clear. On the other hand, he thought, mayhap it was time for plain speaking.
'I demand an oath of fealty from the men who serve me and I will ask no less from my wife. I mean to have such matters understood between us.'
'I am not one of your liege men, sir. I consider that I have been gravely insulted.'
'Insulted? Because I seek to ensure that my wife will be loyal?'
'Aye. You have no right to question my honor. I demand an apology.'
'An apology?' Gareth eyed her thoughtfully. 'Pray, which of your devoted admirers will you ask to avenge this grave insult if I do not apologize?
Young William? Your new minstrel? Or mayhap your marshal, who looks as though he would have trouble lifting a tankard of ale, let alone a sword.'
'I do not appreciate your poor jest, sir.'
'I never speak in jest.'
'I beg leave to doubt that. I think you enjoy a very dangerous notion of amusement. I do not care for it.'
Gareth grew bored with the silly game. He had made his point. Clare had been warned. He made it a practice to give only one warning. 'Enough of this nonsense. We have other matters to discuss.'
'You are correct in that, sir. I shall not forget your insult, but we most certainly do have other matters to discuss.' A speculative gleam appeared in Clare's gaze. 'I have been considering this situation and have come to some conclusions.'
'Have you?'
'Aye. I believe Thurston of Landry is a kind, compassionate lord.'
'What in the name of the devil gave you that impression?'
Clare ignored the interruption. 'I cannot imagine that he would insist that I marry a knight who is so unchivalrous as to actually question my honor before the wedding.'
'Lady Clare?'
'Obviously Lord Thurston did not fully comprehend your true nature before he selected you as one of my suitors. He will be shocked, shocked, to learn that he made a grave mistake.'
Gareth knew by the expression in her eyes that she was seriously contemplating the possibility of sidestepping the marriage on such flimsy grounds. The lady would have made an excellent lawyer. He felt an odd tugging sensation around the edge of his mouth. One corner even started to curve upward into what might very well prove to be a smile. He restrained himself with an effort.
'If you think to delay this enterprise by writing to Thurston to complain of my unchivalrous behavior, I'd advise you not to waste your time. Or Thurston's. He will not thank you for it.' Gareth paused to add weight to his next words. 'Nor will I.'
'So.' Clare nodded once, very briskly, as if some inner suspicion had just been confirmed. 'Now we have threats from our unchivalrous knight. This business grows darker by the moment.' She swung about and began to tread deliberately along the garden path. 'The better acquainted you and I become, sir, the more I fear that you simply will not do as a husband.'
'How strange.' Gareth clasped his hands behind his back and fell into step beside her. He was beginning to enjoy himself. 'I have had just the opposite experience. The deeper our acquaintanceship grows, the more certain I am that you will make me a most satisfactory wife.'
'Highly doubtful, sir.' Clare pursed her lips with an air of regret.
'Highly doubtful. In any case, I must write to Lord Thurston to clarify some aspects of this situation before we proceed further.'
'Which aspects do you refer to, lady?'
'To began with, I am concerned that thus far you are the only suitor to arrive on Desire.'
'I told you, your choice is limited to Nicholas of Seabern or myself.
There are no other suitors.'
She scowled. 'There must have been other suitable candidates for the position. Likely you are merely the first to arrive on the isle. The others might be journeying here even as we speak.'
'Mayhap I overtook the other candidates en route and persuaded them that their cause was hopeless.'
'Aye.' Her brows snapped together. 'There is that possibility.'
'Or, having failed to persuade them to abandon their quest, mayhap I simply dispatched them,' Gareth
