Nicholas sprawled in his chair. 'You appear bored, Hellhound. What's the matter? Don't you care for the minstrel's song?'
'Nay.' Gareth continued to stroke the petals of the j primrose, apparently intrigued by their delicacy.
Clare shot to her feet. She fixed Dalian with a pointed look. 'Master minstrel, I would prefer another song, if you do not mind. Mayhap the lovely one you wrote about the flowers of spring.'
'But 'The Key' is one of your favorites, my lady,' Dalian protested.
'Aye, but tonight I would like to hear another of my favorites.'
For an instant she thought Dalian was going to refuse. But he finally nodded brusquely and began to pluck a different tune, one that featured flowers.
Clare sighed with relief, sat down, and quickly signaled Eadgar to send out more food and ale.
The marshal moved with astonishing alacrity for a man afflicted with stiff joints. It was clear that he, too, had sensed impending doom and was eager to do his part to avoid it.
Joanna visibly relaxed. Clare saw her smile weakly at Ulrich, who gallantly offered her a morsel from his plate. To Clare's amazement, Joanna blushed prettily and took the preferred bite.
Nicholas's mouth turned down in a sullen fashion, rather like that of a boy bent on mischief who has seen his teasing game halted before the jest has been played.
Gareth set the primrose aside and calmly picked up his wine goblet as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. 'I am well pleased with your minstrel's new song, madam.'
'I am very glad to learn that, sir.' Clare gave him an irritated smile.
Her manners were wearing thin. She was thoroughly annoyed with Gareth, just as she was with Nicholas, and she did not particularly care if he knew it. 'I certainly would not want any of the guests in my household to have cause to be displeased with the entertainment.'
Nicholas slammed his goblet down on the table. 'Well, I do not much care for the new song. All that nonsense about spring flowers is dull and boring.'
'Do you find it so?' Gareth glanced at him very casually. 'Mayhap you lack the wit to enjoy the more refined aspects of the verses.'
Nicholas glowered at him. 'Are you saying I lack wit?'
'Aye. 'Twas no doubt one of the reasons Lady Clare sought other suitors.
She has stated quite clearly that she desires a husband who is both clever and well educated.'
Nicholas flushed with fury. A reckless glitter lit his eyes. 'I'll wager Lady Clare prefers the other song. Is that not right, madam?'
Clare tried to think of an excuse to end the evening and send everyone off to bed. She wished someone would do her a favor and raise the alarm for fire or siege.
'I take pleasure in all types of music.' Desperately she sought a distraction. 'Would you please pass me the bowl of figs, Sir Nicholas?'
'Certainly.' Nicholas smiled slowly. 'Allow me to choose a fig for you.'
Instead of handing her the bowl, he reached into it with his short, broad fingers and plucked out one of the figs. He dipped the dried fruit into a dish of cinnamon and honey and held the morsel to Clare's lips.
She stared at the dirt under Nicholas's nails and tried to think. She was intensely aware of Gareth watching the small scene, a deceptively neutral expression in his eyes.
The whole situation was getting ridiculous, she thought angrily. This was her hall and she was in command here. She refused to surrender it to either of these large, overbearing males.
She smiled coolly at Nicholas and removed the fig from his hand. She set the dried fruit down on her plate without taking a single bite.
'I have changed my mind. I believe I have eaten enough this evening,' she said.
'You disappoint me, lady,' Nicholas said. 'Why, when you stayed with me at Seabern last month, your appetite was much keener.' He paused to leer. 'And not just for figs.'
Clare experienced a distinct chill. 'I do not recall.'
'Ah, but I do,' Nicholas said. 'How could I forget those enticing meals we shared? I confess that my fondest memories are of how very pleased you were when I satisfied your extremely delightful appetites.
I trust you have not forgotten your sweet satisfaction?'
'You tease me, Sir Nicholas,' Clare said. Foreboding, dark and disquieting, stole over her. She was rapidly losing all hope of staving off disaster. 'I would have you cease at once. I do not find it amusing.'
'Nay?' Nicholas watched her, but it was obvious his real attention was on Gareth. He was weighing each goading word he spoke, pushing a little harder, searching for the point where blood could be drawn. 'I am devastated to learn that, madam. I certainly found you to be most entertaining. Indeed, I eagerly await your return to Seabern so that we may again satisfy our appetites together.'
The implication of Nicholas's words were clear to all who heard them.
Joanna toyed nervously with her spoon. Ulrich gazed at Gareth in stone-cold silence.
Gareth helped himself to a fig. He said nothing. 'I wish to discuss something else.' Clare realized her voice was starting to rise.
'But I prefer to reminisce about the meals we have shared.' Nicholas took back the honeyed fig Clare had placed on her plate. He sucked on it and then made loud smacking noises. 'They were so very pleasurable.'
Gareth lounged in his chair. 'Lady Clare has requested that the topic of conversation be changed. She does not find it amusing. Nor do I.'
Nicholas chuckled. 'Do you think I care whether or not you find it amusing?'
' Tis the lady's wishes that concern me. They should be a matter of some concern to you, too.'
Clare's heart sank. The situation was worsening rapidly. Mayhap if she could get both men sufficiently drunk, they would both fall into stupors. 'Would either of you care for more wine?'
Nicholas ignored her. He kept his narrowed gaze on Gareth. 'Do you believe that you can please the lady better than I, Hellhound?'
'Aye.'
'Tis highly doubtful, if you ask me. Why would she give the key to her chamber to a bastard after she has known the touch of a well-born knight?'
A shocked silence fell like molten lead on the hall. Clare saw Joanna's eyes widen in horror at the insult. Ulrich sat grim-faced beside her.
Dalian fumbled with the strings of his harp. He ceased playing and jumped to his feet. He glanced wildly around the hall, as though seeking a place to hide.
Eadgar paused in the doorway, a fresh flask of wine in his hand, and gazed helplessly at Clare.
Clare found her voice. 'That is quite enough, Sir Nicholas. I believe you are drunk.'
'Not too drunk to know what he's doing,' Gareth said softly.
'Agreed.' Nicholas's eyes glittered. 'But what of you, Hellhound? Do you still have your wits about you?'
'Aye. I keep them about me at all times. You would do well to remember that.'
'Lady Clare appears to have a problem deciding which of us will make her the better husband.' Nicholas's booming voice rang through the silent hall. 'I propose that we resolve the matter for her. Here and now.'
'How?' Gareth asked gently. 'Shall we play a game of chess for the hand of the lady of Desire? Very well, I suppose that is a reasonable enough solution.'
Clare was so outraged she momentarily forgot about the impending disaster. 'A game of chess? For my hand? How dare you, sir?'
Nicholas smiled malevolently. 'Aye, how dare you, Hellhound? Most unchivalrous.'
'I suppose there is no possibility of a fair match,' Gareth conceded.
'Chess is a game that requires wit and intelligence from both players.
Sir Nicholas would be at a great disadvantage.'
'By the devil, this is not a matter of wits,' Nicholas snarled. 'You insult the lady by suggesting we play a game of chess for her hand.'
Clare closed her eyes briefly and sent up a frantic prayer to Saint Hermione.
'What game do you suggest that we play?' Gareth asked.
'Trial by combat. Here and now.'
