4
Supper proved to be the perilous performance Clare had feared. Seated at the head table between Gareth and Nicholas, she felt as though she were the acrobat she had seen at last year's harvest fair. Surely the effort of balancing oneself on a taut rope strung between two poles could be no more difficult than attempting to maintain peace in a chamber full of quarrelsome knights.
Not that there had been any open conflict as yet. But Clare could feel the anticipation growing in the hall. It was a direct reflection of the hostility that emanated from the two men seated at the head table.
In an effort to lessen the opportunity for small provocations between Gareth's and Nicholas's men, Clare had seen to it that they were seated on the opposite sides of the long trestle tables. She hoped that the short distance that separated the warriors would prove a useful barrier in the event hostilities broke out.
Violence, if it erupted, would start at the head table, she reminded herself. As long as she controlled Gareth and Nicholas, she would control the entire hall.
It was a daunting task.
'Nay, not more vegetables?' Nicholas looked askance at the array of new dishes that had been set down amid the primroses scattered atop the table. 'I vow, you eat more greenery here on Desire than do the hares and deer in my forest.'
'We are very fond of fresh vegetables, my lord,' Clare said with a determinedly cheerful smile. 'Mayhap you would prefer the oysters? The cook does them with almonds and ginger. I'm sure you will enjoy them.'
Nicholas lowered his lashes and looked at her with a slumberous gaze.
The expression was no doubt intended to stir fires in her loins, but in reality it made him appear as though he were about to fall asleep at the table. 'I will enjoy them all the more if you offer them to me with your own tender fingers, my lady.'
Clare gritted her teeth around a frozen smile. It was common enough to offer a special guest a particularly tasty morsel, but she had no intention of honoring Nicholas in that fashion. In the first place, she did not think of him as a special guest. He was, in actual fact, a great nuisance. Clare's second consideration was not knowing how Gareth would react if he believed she was favoring Nicholas.
This was what came of trying to select a husband. Life had once been so peaceful and uncomplicated here on Desire, Clare thought.
'I do not believe I care for any oysters myself, sir,' Clare said. 'But please take as many as you like. And don't forget the pottage. Cook seasons it with fennel and coriander. It's delicious.'
'Aye.' Nicholas scooped up a handful of oysters and stuffed them into his mouth. 'You always set an excellent table, my lady,' he said around the oysters. 'And your presence is the tastiest dish of all.'
'Thank you.' Clare gave him a repressive look,-silently beseeching him to behave. If Nicholas read the plea in her eyes, he gave no indication.
Nicholas was rapidly becoming oblivious to a great many things, she reflected. He got that way after a few tankards of ale.
'But as lovely as you are tonight seated here in your own hall,'
Nicholas continued in a drawling, provocative tone, 'I believe I prefer the memory of how you looked when you were seated beside me in Seabern Keep less than a month ago.' He paused to swallow more oysters in a single gulp. 'I thought at the time that you looked as though you belonged there.'
Clare felt Gareth stir silently in the chair to her left. She panicked for a second. Her spoon clattered loudly against the edge of a bowl. ' 'Twas a pleasant visit, sir and you were a gracious host. But here is where I belong.'
'And here is where you will stay,' Gareth said very gently.
Clare glanced at him uneasily from the corner of her eye. She did not like the lethal softness of his tone.
It seemed to her that the more Nicholas taunted and provoked, the softer and more polite Gareth's responses became.
Clare was growing increasingly alarmed by Gareth's chilling politeness.
She wondered if she was the only one in the hall who realized just how dangerous it was. It seemed to her that everyone present ought to be able to see the obvious threat.
Nicholas, thickheaded fool that he was, apparently did not. In fact, Clare thought, Gareth's soft speech seemed to be emboldening him.
It dawned on Clare that Gareth was deliberately baiting Nicholas.
Gareth caught Clare's eye as he used his knife to slice a wedge of mixed-meat tart. He did not quite smile? the man never smiled?but there was that in his expression which suggested this was as close to being amused as he could get.
The Hellhound of Wyckmere was enjoying himself.
Clare wanted to dump the contents of the pottage bowl over his head.
'Mayhap we would all enjoy some music,' Clare said firmly. She looked at Dalian, who was sulking at the end of one of the long tables. 'Will you give us a cheerful song, Dalian?'
Dalian leaped to his feet and swept her a deep bow. 'As my lady commands.'
He picked up his harp and began to play a familiar melody. Clare relaxed as she recognized one of her favorite songs. Dalian had composed it for her shortly after his arrival on Desire. It was called 'The Key.'
My lady's smile doth shine as bright as moon and stars on a summer's night.
Her eyes are emeralds, soft and green,
Her face is as pure as a clear, fresh stream.
Tonight I shall take the key,
The key that she has given to me.
'Aye, aye, the key.' Nicholas banged his tankard on the table. 'Take the key.' He belched.
Clare shuddered.
'Aye, the key.' One of Nicholas's burly men, already drunker than his master, rapped his knife against his tankard. 'And what will ye do with the key, lad?'
More tankards clashed as the rest of the men from Seabern called encouragement to Dalian. Clare saw Nicholas start to grin. He downed another swallow of ale and then reached for his goblet of wine.
'Tis the key to her chamber that she has given me.
She will welcome me there most graciously.
'Graciously, graciously,' one of the men chorused with a hoot of laughter.
'Tis unfair that her lord keeps such a treasure hidden.
I shall risk my life to climb through her window this night.
I shall part her bed curtains and behold the fair sight.
Nicholas slammed the table with his fist, rattling cups and dishes.
'Aye, lad, on to the lady's bed. Tis worth the risk.' He leered at Clare.
Clare looked helplessly at Joanna, who in turn glanced uneasily at Ulrich. Ulrich gazed impassively at Gareth, as if waiting for a signal.
Her thighs are alabaster columns, round and smooth.
When I lay between them I shall see
The golden door that awaits my key.
'Aye, aye, the key.' Nicholas roared.
Out of the corner of her eye Clare saw Gareth pick up one of the delicate yellow primroses that decorated her table. The blossom looked small and extremely fragile in his large hand. Slowly he began to stroke the petals.
Clare held her breath.
Another shout went up from the men seated below the head table. Clare pulled her fascinated gaze away from the sight of the primrose cradled in Gareth's hand.
She tried to signal Dalian to stop singing, but he pretended not to notice her attempt to gain his attention. He strummed his harp with grim defiance.
