And there was no doubting the forcefulness of his passion, she thought.
He made no secret of his desire for her and he seemed pleased that she responded so completely to his lovemaking. In truth, he demanded a response from her.
She knew he respected her knowledge, skill, and cleverness in the matter of perfumes, but that was not saying much. Even Nicholas had possessed sufficient wit to appreciate her talent for making money.
What gave her the greatest hope was that, just as he had a moment ago, Gareth had begun consulting her more and more frequently of late before making a decision.
Their marriage was beginning to work just as she had anticipated when she had composed her recipe for a husband. She and Gareth were learning to share their duties and responsibilities. They were learning to trust each other.
In many ways she had gotten exactly what she had wanted in a husband, even if he was somewhat larger than she had specified.
But it was not enough.
She wanted love.
And as far as Gareth was concerned, love was for poets and fools.
Two days later Clare was again at her desk when a great thunderclap resounded across the courtyard.
Startled, she leaped to her feet and went to the window. She frowned when she realized that there was not a single storm cloud in sight.
Confused, she glanced down into the courtyard. A shout went up. A maid screamed. The stonemasons stopped work on the new wall. Men spilled from the stables in alarm. A horse whinnied and plunged in fright. Several chickens cackled madly as they darted across the yard.
And then great, billowing clouds of smoke poured from the windows of her father's workroom. Even as Clare watched, the door burst open and two figures reeled out into the sunlight. Gareth and Dalian were covered in gray ash.
Clare whirled and raced out of the chamber. She ran to the tower stairs and flew down them.
'Gareth. My lord, are you all rightr she shouted as she dashed out onto the hall steps. She stared at the ash-covered figures. The acrid scent of sulfur assailed her nostrils.
Dalian smiled weakly. He looked dazed but unhurt.
Gareth's teeth flashed in a triumphant grin through his gray mask. 'It worked.'
'In the name of Saint Hermione's night robe,' Clare gasped as Gareth ran to her and caught her up. 'What worked?'
'One of your father's sulfur recipes.' Gareth swung her around in a circle. His laughter rang out across the yard. 'It worked, Clare. It really worked.'
'I can see that. But of what possible use is this sulfur mix?'
'I have no notion yet. The important thing is that the recipe worked.'
15
Clare looked up at his smudged, grinning features and smiled with sudden and complete understanding. Gareth was euphoric with the thrill of discovery. She had experienced the sensation many times herself, albeit in a less spectacular fashion.
'Aye, my lord. Your recipe most certainly worked. Mayhap you have a career in alchemy ahead of you.'
'It is certainly a far more interesting business than my former occupation of hunting outlaws.'
Clare closed her eyes to shut out the distraction caused by the clash and clang of stonemasons' tools and the shouts of laborers. Outside her workrooms, construction of the new stone wall around the hall was proceeding apace. It created an unceasing din during the day.
It was only in the evening, after the men from Seabern had departed for the day, that a blessed silence descended. Clare hoped the project would be finished soon. She reached into the pot on the bench in front of her, scooped out a handful of the new mix of dried herbs and flowers, and held it to her nose. The hint of mugwort reminded her of Raymond de Coleville, for some reason.
Mugwort had made his eyes water uncontrollably and caused him to sneeze and gasp for air.
She recalled the day that she had surprised him with a pomander that had contained mugwort along with other spices and flowers. It was the only time that she had ever seen Raymond lose his temper.
'God's blood, get that perfume away from me,' he had raged. 'It must contain mugwort. What are you trying to do? Kill me?'
Clare had been horrified. She'd had no way of knowing that he could not tolerate the mugwort. She had apologized profusely and disposed of the pomander. Raymond had quickly returned to his normal charming self and that had been the end of the matter.
Clare frowned and wondered why the memory had flickered through her mind today. She had not thought much about Raymond de Coleville since the day Gareth had arrived on the Isle of Desire.
In truth, it was difficult to think of any other man except her husband these days. Gareth was too large, too overwhelming, too interesting to allow space for others in her mind. He made other men, especially the pale memories of a man who had lied to her, seem very small and quite ordinary.
'Clare?' Joanna appeared at the open door of the workroom. She peered into the shadows. 'Are you in here?'
'Aye, Joanna.' Clare dropped the handful of dried materials back into the bowl. 'Is something amiss?'
'Nay, I merely came to show you my latest embroidery design. I think it will do very nicely for the larger pillows.' Joanna shook out a large square of fabric decorated with a rough drawing of a knight kneeling before a lady. The couple appeared to be seated in a leafy bower.
'It's wonderful, Joanna. Romantic scenes such as that always sell very well. What's that creature in the background?'
'A unicorn.' Joanna refolded the fabric with an air of satisfaction.
'The ladies of London are very fond of unicorns. Well, then, if you approve, I shall set the village women and the nuns to work on the new pillow scenes immediately.'
'Excellent.'
'We should have a large number ready to fill with your dried herbs and flowers by midsummer.'
'At least this shipment will likely reach its destination. Lord Gareth will see to that.' Clare added two handfuls of rose petals to the mixture in the pot.
'Aye. The Hellhound has his uses, I'll grant you that much.' Joanna gave Clare a speculative look.
'I wonder if he'll stay with us through the winter.'
'What?' Clare whirled around. 'Of course he'll stay with us. This is his home now. Why would he leave?'
Joanna tut-tutted. 'Men always leave once they've seen to the business of protecting their lands and getting an heir. Now that you are wed, Desire is safe from Nicholas or some other encroaching lord.'
'Aye, but what of the robbers who are a constant threat to our shipments ?' Clare felt stunned. A strange tightness gripped her chest.
'I expect it will be no problem for Lord Gareth to arrange for some of his men-at-arms to remain here on Desire to handle the shipments.' Joanna sighed. 'I suppose Sir Ulrich will accompany Lord Gareth when he leaves. A pity. William is quite fond of him. I do believe this new exercise program is having a beneficial effect on my son, just as Lord Gareth predicted.'
'Young William is not the only one who has grown fond of Sir Ulrich, is he?' Clare asked gently.
Joanna blushed. 'Is it so obvious?'
'Aye. And he seems equally fond of you.'
Joanna studied the pot of herbs and flowers. 'He says he loves me.'
