Desire

Even the beautifully woven hangings depicted garden scenes.

This was a land of scented blooms and lush greenery. Who would have guessed that the Hellhound of Wyckmere would come to such a pretty, sweet-smelling place to claim his own hearth? Gareth thought.

But he was well satisfied with the Isle of Desire. He sensed that it held that which he sought.

He fastened his long leather belt around his hips and then he padded barefooted past one of the narrow windows cut into the stone wall. The warm, perfumed breeze made him think of Clare's hair.

Gareth had been obliged to inhale the scent of her dark tresses as he had carried her before him through the village and along the road to the hall.

The smell of flowers had blended with but had not disguised the sweet, intriguing scent that was hers and hers alone. The fragrance had captivated Gareth. She smelled like no other woman he had ever known.

The subtle, heady perfume combined with the feel of her softly rounded hips pressed against his leg had done something to Gareth's insides. A deep, powerful hunger had stirred to life within him.

His brows drew together and his jaw tightened as he recalled the raw force of that hunger. He would have to make certain it stayed within bounds. He had not survived this long by allowing his emotions to rule him.

Ulrich caught his eye at that moment. 'So you knew the lady of Desire on sight?' He shook his bare, gleaming skull with wry admiration. 'I congratulate you, Gareth. As usual, you were quick to add the facts together and determine the correct sum.'

'It was not very difficult.' Gareth sat down on a stool to pull on soft leather boots. 'Enough of that discussion. I'm interested to hear whatever you learned about the kidnapping incident.'

'There is not much to tell. As you know, I downed a few mugs of ale with the crowd at the local tavern in Seabern last night. The most interesting thing I learned is that all parties concerned, including Sir Nicholas, his entire lousehold, and the lady herself, insist that there was no kidnapping.'

Gareth shrugged. 'Only to be expected. A lady's reputation is involved.'

'Aye. The tale is that she made an unexpected visit to sir Nicholas which lasted four days.'

'After which he offered marriage?'

'Aye. The lady refused.' Ulrich chuckled. 'You must admit that took courage under the circumstances.'

'That it did. Most women would have yielded to the nevitable.'

Satisfaction flowed through Gareth.

His future bride was not one to collapse in the face of blatant ntimidation. He approved of that sort of courage.

Up to a point.

'By way of excuse she told him that her guardian, Thurston of Landry, had agreed to allow her to choose her own husband.'

'That must have been when she decided to write to my father and request a selection of candidates for the position.'

'No doubt.'

'It also explains why my father instructed me to waste no time claiming my bride.' Gareth reflected on that jriefly. 'He suspects that Nicholas will soon make another ittempt to get his hands on Desire.'

'A second kidnapping might not be so easy to brush aside.' Ulrich paused briefly. 'As a matter of curiosity, what do you intend to do about Nicholas?'

'Nothing for now. I do not expect that Clare will willingly charge him with kidnapping or rape, even though he is now safe.'

'She has her reputation to consider. As do you, Gareth. The lady will not thank you for dragging her honor through the mud.'

'Nay. And I have other concerns at the moment. I will deal with Nicholas later.'

Nicholas of Seabern would pay for what he had done, but that payment would be made at a place and hour of Gareth's choosing. The Hellhound of Wyckmere sometimes took his time when it came to exacting revenge, but sooner or later, he always claimed it.

He had his own reputation to consider.

Ulrich got to his feet, turned toward the window, and braced his hands on the ledge. He looked out over the fields of flowers that lay beyond the old wooden curtain wall that surrounded the hall. He drew a deep breath of the fresh, flowery air.

'Tis a most unusual land you have come to claim,' Ulrich said. 'And a most unusual lady. To say nothing of the rest of the household.'

'Aye. What is the boy to Lady Clare?'

'William?' Ulrich smiled. 'A spirited lad, is he not? He could do with some exercise, though. He has a fondness for sweet cakes and puddings.'

'Aye.'

'He and his mother, the Lady Joanna, both live here at the hall. Lady Joanna is a widow.'

Gareth glanced at Ulrich. 'The boy is all Lady Joanna has left?'

'It seems her husband sold everything he owned, including his lands in the north, to raise money for his adventures in the Holy Land. He managed to get himself killed there. Joanna and William were left penniless.'

'So Lady Joanna came to Desire seeking a place for herself and her son in this hall?'

'Aye.' Ulrich's expression turned speculative. 'I have the impression that your lady is very softhearted about such matters.'

'Is that so?'

'Joanna and her son are not the only ones to whom she has given a home.

Her elderly marshal, who should have been replaced years ago, by the looks of him, and her old nurse still live here, too. Apparently they had nowhere else to go.'

'Any other strays about?'

Ulrich frowned slightly. 'William said that a couple of months ago a young minstrel showed up on the hall doorstep. Clare took him in, too. He will no doubt entertain us this evening. William told me that Clare is very fond of love songs.'

Gareth reflected on Clare's recipe for a husband. 'I feared as much.'

'The minstrel's name is Dalian. William informs me that the troubadour is devoted to his new lady.'

''Tis the way of troubadours,' Gareth muttered. 'They are a great nuisance with their silly songs of seduction and cuckoldry.'

'The ladies love such ballads.'

'There will be no songs of that sort sung here,' Gareth said quietly.

'See that Dalian the troubadour is instructed in that regard.'

'Aye, sir.' Ulrich's teeth flashed in a grin before he turned back to the window.

Gareth ignored his companion's ill-concealed mirth. As usual, he did not pretend to comprehend what Ulrich found so vastly entertaining. The important thing was that Gareth knew his orders would be carried out.

Satisfied that he was once again clean and clothed in fresh garments, Gareth strode toward the door of the chamber. 'I believe it is time for me to present myself again to my future wife. She and I have much to discuss.'

'You will find her in her garden.'

Gareth looked back over his shoulder. 'How do you know that?'

'Because I can see her from here.' Ulrich gazed down through the open window. A smile still hovered about his thin lips. 'She is addressing her loyal household. I'll wager that she is giving them instructions for the defense of the hall.'

'What in the name of the devil are you talking about? This hall is not under attack.'

'That, my friend, is clearly a matter of opinion. It seems to me that your lady is preparing to withstand a siege.'

'From me?'

'Aye.'

Gareth shrugged. 'Then she is wasting her time. The battle is over and won.'

'I'm not at all certain of that.' Ulrich started to grin. The grin became a chuckle and the chuckle exploded into laughter.