'I was so terrified that I would lose you,' she mumbled against his shoulder.
He tangled his hands in her hair. 'How do you think I felt when I returned to the hall and found you standing on the steps conversing with Lucretius de Valemont?'
Clare choked back a sob. 'I was not conversing with him. We were bargaining. I am very good at bargaining.'
'Aye, so you are.' Gareth gently stroked the nape of her neck with his thumb and forefinger. 'That was a very clever trick you played on the magician.'
'I knew the mugwort would cause him to sneeze most violently. I had hoped that his reaction would give Dalian a chance to escape.'
'Instead it provided you with your chance.' Gareth paused meaningfully.
'A chance which you would not have needed if you had stayed safely inside the hall as I commanded.'
'I had to do something. He threatened Dalian's life.'
'So you went to the rescue.' Gareth groaned in resignation. 'I suppose there is no point berating you for your foolishness.'
'I had no choice.'
Gareth captured her face between his palms. 'We will not argue the point. 'Tis over and done. You are safe now and that is all that matters.'
She smiled and blinked back the last of her tears. 'Oh, Gareth.' She wound her arms around his neck and pressed close.
He gave a deep, husky exclamation, picked her up, and settled her onto the herb-scented sheets. There was enough light from the banked fire for Clare to see the brilliant intensity of his eyes. The heat in those crystal depths warmed her as nothing else had been able to do all day.
'Ah, my sweet Clare.' Gareth sprawled heavily on top of her, crushing her into the bedding. 'You are not the only one who got a sound scare today. Do not ever do that to me again.'
'Nay, my lord.' Clare pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with a frantic need that she did not bother to disguise.
His response overwhelmed her, as it always did.
A long while later Clare shifted languidly alongside Gareth. Neither of them had bothered to draw the curtains around the bed yet. The embers of the fire cast a warm light onto the rumpled sheets.
Clare snuggled deeper into her husband's warmth and breathed in the scent of his relaxed, satiated body. Just as she closed her eyes, a drowsy thought flitted through her brain.
'Gareth?'
'Hmm?' Gareth's voice was little more than a rumbling purr in the shadows.
'I almost forgot. Eadgar wants to know how long we shall be obliged to feed the prisoners. He says he will need to acquire provisions if they are to be housed in the storage rooms for any length of time.'
'He need only bother with them for another day or so at the most.
They'll all be gone soon.'
'Good. He'll be grateful to learn that.' Clare patted away a tiny yawn and nestled closer. 'Tis a problem for him, you know. We are not accustomed to dealing with prisoners here on Desire.'
'Uh-huh.' Gareth sounded as though he were already half asleep.
Clare gazed thoughtfully into the glowing coals on the hearth. 'Where do you suppose such men will go now that their master is dead?'
'Huh?'
'I was wondering what will become of those four knights who served Sir Lucretius. And those three bowmen you took captive. Poor men. It must be very hard not to have a home or good lord to serve.'
'Finding a new home is not going to be a problem for them, Clare.'
She turned her head on the pillow. 'Why not?'
'Because I'm going to have them all hung, that's why not.'
'What?' Clare shot bolt upright. 'You cannot do that, Gareth.'
He opened one eye and looked at her as though she had gone mad. ' Tis the usual procedure for dealing with men of that sort.'
'Impossible. Absolutely impossible. You are not going to hang seven men here on Desire, my lord. By Saint Hermione's ring, it is out of the question.' Clare's imagination conjured up a vision of seven bodies dangling from gibbets. 'I absolutely.forbid it.'
Gareth opened his other eye and studied her with a blank look. 'You forbid it?'
'Aye, I most certainly do. There has never been a hanging here on Desire. My father never found it necessary to hang anyone. I do not intend to change that custom.'
'Clare,' Gareth said with an ominous patience, 'those men downstairs in the cellar are masterless men. Thieves. Renegade knights. They are likely murderers and worse.'
'They killed no one here.'
'By purest chance.'
'They were led by an evil man who is now dead.'
'Aye, and if I turn them loose, they'll soon find themselves another such master to serve. That is their nature.'
Clare stared at him, shaken by the implacable expression on his face.
'My lord, I cannot abide the thought of so many terrible deaths taking place on this isle. You cannot do it.'
Gareth hesitated. 'I suppose I could have them sent to Seabern. Sir Nicholas will likely not mind seeing to the matter.'
Clare pounded the bedding with clenched fists. 'That is not the point.
The point is, I do not want them all to hang.'
Gareth made an obvious bid for his patience. 'We agreed that we each had our responsibilities as lord and lady of this manor.'
'Aye, but?'
'You must allow me to carry out my duties, madam.'
'Surely you do not need to hang them. There are alternatives.'
'What alternatives?'
'You can banish them,' she suggested swiftly. 'Make them swear to abjure the territory. They would not dare to return.'
'Clare?'
'They fear you, sir. They believe you to be more powerful than Lucretius de Valemont.'
'Mayhap they would not be of much concern to us in the future,' Gareth conceded, 'but declaring them outlaws and sending them away only serves to make them someone else's problem.'
'Gareth, I will not have seven bodies twisting in the breeze of Desire, and that is final.'
'Nay, madam. In this matter, my decision is final.'
'We shall see about that.' Clare swept up the quilt and wrapped it around herself. She slid off the edge of the bed.
'Where the devil do you think you are going, wife?'
'I am going to sleep in the wardrobe until you grant me the boon I have asked of you, my lord.'
Wearing the quilt like an overlong cloak, Clare spun on her heel and stalked across the bedchamber into the wardrobe.
19
