"But
you are the best archer in England," Arissa insisted. "Sweet St.
Jude, you taught Bart and I to wield a bow and arrow when we were children. Why
aren't you going to compete?"
"As
I said, I have not thought on it. I have not used a long-bow in some time, and
crossbows are forbidden in competition."
She
cocked her head thoughtfully. "I am awarding the ribbon. I would certainly
like to award it to you, where it belongs."
"And
you can carry my favor for luck," Regine said eagerly, her fury from a
moment before inexplicably vanished.
Arissa's
face fell when Regine offered her favor to the powerful knight and Richmond
could read her disappointment. Touched, not to mention encouraged in an odd
way, he took hold of Arissa's hand and clutched it against his mighty chest.
"Lady
Regine, as honored as I would be to carry your favor, I must refuse in favor of
the birthday girl," when Arissa's head came up in open astonishment, his
eyes twinkled at her. "That is, if my lady would allow me to champion her
on this most auspicious day."
Arissa
couldn't help but smile as he gazed warmly upon her. How could have possibly
have known exactly what she was leading up to before Regine stole her thunder?
To have Richmond champion her in front of her neighbors, allies and friends
alike was better than she could hope for. Her father's friend, for as many
years as she had known him, had declined all invitations to champion young,
unmarried ladies.
In
fact, she remembered clearly at a tournament in Glastonbury when Richmond
refused to champion a local earl's daughter. The earl had been so outraged that
he had nearly demanded Richmond's head until a very calm Duke of Hereford
pacified the man. She had been eleven years old at the time; it was the one and
only time she had ever seen the duke, the man now known as Henry IV. Even then,
the duke had treated Richmond as if he was a god. She barely remembered the
would-be king; her attention, as always, had been focused on Richmond.
It
was still focused on him, as he was on her. Not wanting to seem quite so
flattered or eager, she cocked a saucy eyebrow.
"I
shall think on it, Sir Richmond. I was rather thinking on having Tad de Rydal
champion me but, alas, I suppose I could make do with you."
His
eyebrows rose. "You cheeky little devil. How dare you consider that
arrogant whelp over me. Why, I withdraw my offer immediately."
She
extracted her hand from his heated grasp, although the mood was light.
"Very well. And I resend my request that you compete in this tournament.
Why, with your hands shaking with age as they do, there is no telling what you
shall hit. Pray, can you even see the target from this distance?"
He
drew in a long contemplative breath, resting his massive fists on his hips. Puckering
his lips, he turned toward the castle with narrowed eyes. "Quite easily.
How clever of the marshals to disguise the mark to look like a battle turret.
"
Regine
giggled. "That's not the target, Richmond. It's over there!" she
pointed behind him, in the direction of the field.
He
whirled around, still squinting. "Ah, yes. I see most clearly now. How
clever of them to create moving targets. Much more satisfying to a man of my
skills."
Arissa
joined Regine in her giggles. "Those are not moving targets, Richmond,
they are men-at-arms bearing Lambourn tunics. Are your eyes really so
bad?"
He
slanted her a gaze, his eyes glimmering with mirth. "'Tis your own fault,
really. You have blinded me with your radiant beauty."
She
lowered her lashes coyly, an utterly charming gesture. "In that case, I
must take pity on you and allow you to champion me."
Regine,
tired of the games between Arissa and Richmond, bound off toward the activity
on the field. But Richmond barely noticed her departure for the look in
Arissa's eyes; suddenly, a great mailed glove came up to stroke her cheek
tenderly. The emotions, the warmth in his gaze, threatened to swallow her
whole. Her entire world at the moment revolved around Richmond and his
feather-light touch.
"Well
spoken, kitten," he whispered. Then he sighed, his gaze raking over her.
"I can scarcely believe you are eighteen years of age today. It simply
does not seem possible."
They
were not words spoken from a reluctant father-figure. They were words spoken
from the heart. Arissa knew that as doubtlessly as she knew of her love for
him. Before she could stop herself, she pressed her face against his massive
hand.
"I
am a woman grown, my lord."
He
stared at her, the twinkle in his eyes fading. The finger that caressed her
cheek lingered on her chin, trailing down her neck. He knew full well he should
not be touching her in such a manner. God's Teeth, he knew better than anyone
that he had no right at all to touch her. He would have killed any man who had
handled her in such a fashion, seemingly innocent though it might be. A gentle
touch, a chivalrous gesture....
But
it was not innocent at all. There was fire raging through his veins,
encroaching onto Arissa's tender flesh. The more he stroked, the more she
leaned against him as if her strength was failing. He had been staring into her
eyes not a moment before; suddenly, he was watching his badly misbehaving hand
as it threatened her.
The
pale green eyes suddenly closed and her head lolled back as if she had lost all
control, revealing the most glorious neck he had ever had the fortune to gaze
upon. Richmond lost the struggle against his labored breathing; harsh gasps
came to his dry lips and his gloved hand opened, closing upon her neck as an
animal devours its prey. He heard her gasp, a faint sound so erotic he nearly
whimpered in response. His grip tightened.
Then
she was moving toward him. His gloved hand appeared to have a mind of its own,
pulling her against his hard chest. Richmond realized that he was about to permit
a depraved madman to ravage Arissa, but he was powerless to prevent it. The
pale green eyes opened, focused on him, and he saw a faint curve appear on the
luscious red lips. A flicker of a smile. Dear God... she was encouraging him!
Her
smile broadened. He couldn't manage the gesture. All of his attention, his
energy, was focused on the woman before him as if she were all that existed in
his tumultuous world. His entire body was quivering like the string of a bow;
taut, coiled, wracked with anticipation of what was about to occur. God’s
teeth,
what was he thinking?
"Do
ye think to strangle her in front of witnesses, my lord?" Mossy was
suddenly beside them, his aged eyes twinkling. "Do not tell me that she
asked ye to champion her and ye took offense."
His
hand dropped like a stone. Well-defined finger marks lined Arissa's white neck.
He swallowed hard, his eyes boring into her wide green ones as an unmistakable
flush mottled her cheeks.
"I....
I have already agreed to champion my lady as a gift for her birthday," he
managed to choke.
Mossy's
gaze moved between the two of them. Richmond maintained a steady gaze, but
Arissa was staring at the ground. When she wandered away, wringing her hands
and watching the grass beneath her slippered feet, Mossy cocked an eyebrow at
Richmond.
"Then
if ye are going to kiss her, my lord, do it in the trees where no one can see
ye. 'Twere William to see ye, word might get back to her father."
Richmond's
eyes suddenly blazed. Mossy's gaze held even and he nodded faintly. "Aye,
I know who she’s. I have always known," he tapped his head in a thoughtful
gesture. "Ye forget, Richmond, that I delivered Maude's dead child, the
dead babe young Henry knew of. And I was the one who took Arissa from ye when
ye delivered her to Lambourn that snowy December night. Although ye never made
mention of her heritage, I was not so deaf that I did not hear the truth spoken
between William and Maude on more than one occasion. But the populace of
Lambourn never knew the difference; 'twas easy to convince them that Arissa was
the child Maude birthed, switching the babes as we did."
Richmond
had always suspected Mossy had been privy to the most secretive of information,
but the old man had never mentioned a word. In faith, he didn’t particularly
care but he sought to make the situation clear.
"She
doesn't know."
"Nay,
she doesn't,” Mossy agreed. “And she will never hear it from my lips. 'Tis none
of my affair to involve myself in the matter."
His
rigid stance relaxed somewhat and his gaze returned to Arissa, standing
patiently several feet away as she watched the activity on the field. He
suddenly felt an ancient hand come to rest on his gauntlet.
"She
does not want to join the cloister, ye know," Mossy said quietly. "If
ye were to convince her father.... he'd let ye have her, I suspect."
Outwardly,
Richmond's only reaction was to return his gaze to the old man. But inwardly,
he was wracked with the possibilities of the statement.
"Out
of the question, Mossy. Arissa's destiny is in the hands of God. Come the New Year,
she will retire to Whitby and I shall return to London."
"Never
to see her again? Do ye know what that will do to her, man?"
His
brow furrowed faintly. "She’s no choice in the matter. Her future was
decided long ago."
Mossy's
gaze rested on him a moment. "But that was before she loved you." He
turned and walked away.
Richmond's
mouth went dry. His facade was still straight and proud as he watched the aged
crony hobble toward the keep, but his heart was being twisted and enlightened
more violently than he ever thought possible.
"Richmond?"
He
whirled toward Arissa, his control slipping at the sound of her angelic voice.
His gaze came to rest on her beautiful face and she smiled timidly, gesturing
in the direction of the keep.
"I
am hungry. Do you think we could find something to eat before the competition
begins?"
His
mouth worked for a moment as if he was struggling to find the correct reply.
Loudly, he cleared his throat, moving towards her purely out of habit. But as
he drew closer, Mossy's words slammed into him again with such force that he
grunted.
But
that was before she loved you.
He
coughed politely, covering his blunder. Yet the look in Arissa's eyes when he
offered her his arm suddenly took on new light in the face of the old man's
muttered statement. The seductive smile she had displayed as he gripped her,
the open encouragement in her gaze suddenly made sense until he was nearly wild
with the overwhelming likelihood. Could it be....?
Richmond
led her back to the keep in stunned silence, where Penelope, Emma and Daniel
found them. Daniel boasted of his winnings in the wrestling matches as Penelope
and Emma surrounded Arissa, commencing the usual mindless chatter. Arissa
listened, but she did not comprehend their words. Her mind was else occupied.
She
had no idea what to think. Confusion reigned supreme as she pretended to
respond to the conversation going on about her. Richmond, several paces ahead,
was all but ignoring her as he and Daniel conversed. Truthfully, her mind
hadn't been working correctly since the moment he had touched her cheek; it was
as if the world had faded until all that mattered was his tender touch against
her skin. The sensation had been so overwhelming that she had completely given
in to the heat flooding her limbs, causing her eyes to close and her knees to
weaken.
She
hadn't even been aware of her lolling head until he had grabbed her by the
neck. A powerful bolt of excitement had slammed into her body, a sob escaping
her lips from the sheer force of the blow. Next she realized, he had pulled her
against him.
And
then her eyes had opened. His eyes, blazing hotter than the sun, had made her
smile. Gazing into the blue flame, she knew. He wanted to kiss her as badly as
she wanted him to.
Damn
Mossy for interrupting them. Had they been allowed to progress, she might have
been able to taste his lips as she had always wanted to. But now, he was all
but ignoring her and her heart was breaking. Mayhap.... mayhap he had come to
realize the foolishness of her brazen actions. 'Twas she who had melted against
his innocent touch, and it was she who had unskillfully seduced him with her
naive grin and eager manner. She had all but thrown herself at the man.
Richmond
procured the entire group a spit of roasting gamecocks. Arissa accepted the
food from him, picked at it, and tossed it to the ground. Her stomach was
churning with humiliation and she was no longer hungry. She could feel Richmond
watching her, a familiar heat she was well acquainted with, but she simply
could not bring herself to look at him.
She
wished she could get away from him, anything to ease the tension in the air.
She knew, however, he would shadow her wherever she went. The only way he would
not follow her was if she was escorted by another capable knight, a man he
trusted. Or....
"My
lady, a pleasure to come across you again," Tad de Rydal was suddenly in
front of her, his arrogant face flushed with joy. Arissa gazed up at him,
suddenly seeing an escape to Richmond's presence. Although she had no liking
for the pompous knight, he would be a safe enough diversion from the situation
at hand. With enthusiasm she did not feel, she smiled brightly.