She
wagged her finger at him as they moved for the door. "My brother is a
great actor, Gavan. I forbid you to criticize his talent."
Gavan
opened the door for her. "Your brother is a loon."
"'Tis
the future earl you speak of."
"The
future earl is a loon."
She
laughed as he escorted her into the corridor. Gavan passed a glance at her
beautiful face, knowing exactly why Richmond was in love with her. He loved his
own wife for the very same reasons; beauty, life, spirit, purity of the soul.
And knowing how he felt about his own wife, he also knew without a doubt that
he would shrivel and die without her by his side.
As
they took the stairs into the gallery, he could only imagine the torment
Richmond was feeling at the direction his destiny had taken. With all of the political
turmoil threatening the crown, a bevy of personal problems was an unwelcome
factor.
If
Arissa only knew the whole of it. He listened to her voice as she spoke,
listening but not truly hearing her. He couldn't help but wonder if the
impending future would somehow alter the spirit within her, quell the life. As
she was destined for Whitby Abbey and Richmond found himself facing an unwanted
betrothal and a potential civil war, it would seem that a permanent wedge was
to be driven between them.
Desperately
in love but prevented from being together. As the bright light from the gallery
hit Gavan in the face, he couldn't ever remember a darker situation.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
"Riss,
where have you been?" Bartholomew snatched her away from Gavan as soon as
she entered the hall. "I have been waiting for you!"
Arissa
kept an eye out for Richmond as Bartholomew swept her deep into the room.
"I am sorry, I was not feeling well."
He
led her towards the head table where William and Maude were seated. Mossy was
absent, as was usual; just as Richmond shied from a crowd, Mossy avoided social
gatherings at all costs and Arissa was not surprised to discover him to be
truant. Regine, however, was lingering by the edge of the table, in
conversation with Emma. When she caught sight of her sister, her blue eyes
widened.
"No
matter," Bartholomew said, rushing his sister towards the long table.
"Take your seat and I shall commence."
William
and Maude noticed their daughter's approach, rising to their feet as Bartholomew
practically tossed the birthday girl onto the dais. Arissa stumbled with her
brother's rough treatment, passing him an intolerant glance as she moved for
her customary chair. On her father's left hand, Richmond usually sat to her
left. His seat was vacant.
Bartholomew
disappeared as she took her chair. William greeted her fondly, demanding food
and wine for the guest of honor. As a trencher was brought forward, the earl
commanded the small minstrel orchestra situated in the corner of the hall to
begin their program in tribute to his daughter's arrival.
Her
appetite was customarily weak as she scanned the room for Richmond, listening
to her father's voice as he conversed with Baron Buscot. Several retainers were
hovering about the head table, men she did not recognize and had no interest in
meeting. At the moment, her primary concern was locating Richmond.
She
was greatly distracted from her search, however, as guests began to approach,
relaying congratulations and delivering small tokens of their esteem. Lady
Maude moved from her husband's right hand, taking a position beside her
daughter as friends and allies paid their respects. Arissa's patience was
brittle, but she tried her best to be cordial in the midst of a plethora of
compliments.
The
crowd about the dais was growing larger and Gavan and Carlton took position in
front of the table, controlling the throng and making sure there was not an
eager stampede. Maude delivered most of the thanks, an extremely gracious woman
while her daughter offered feeble words of gratitude. The fact that Richmond
was missing upset her greatly, reflective in her somber mood.
The
crowd began to die down when a troop of dancers assumed their places near the
orchestra. From Macedonia, their costumes were a mixture of bright colors,
mostly greens, reds and whites, and embroidered with elaborate patterns. Arissa
actually found her interest captured as they began their intricate dance, women
with women and men with men.
Her
father leaned toward her as the performers cavorted about in the center of the
room. "Do you like them? The Earl of Kent commissioned the group to
perform at the celebration we attended last month in honor of his birthday. I
thought you might appreciate their skills."
She
nodded, kissing her father on the cheek dutifully. "They are wonderful, Father,"
her gazed moved from the dancers to the gallery surrounding her. "Where's
Richmond?"
William
glanced about disinterestedly. "I do not know. I saw him earlier. But I
see that Gavan found you."
She
nodded, returning her attention to the dancers as a serving wench topped her
wine. "I hope Emma does not throw herself at him like she did the last he
was here."
William
snorted, drinking deeply of his chalice. "Gavan has more women throwing
themselves at him than he can handle. I have never seen such a reluctant object
of adoration."
The
music picked up pace and the performers commenced with a lively routine. The
group of guests clapped in rhythm as a line of male dancers began to dance in a
well-orchestrated circle, dropping to their knees and bounding to their feet as
the music demanded. Arissa continued to observe with growing interest when a
body suddenly moved beside her.
"I
think they're boring," Regine sniffed, perching herself on the seat
Richmond usually occupied. "I want to dance."
Arissa
peered closely at her younger sister, noting that the girl was barely resting
her bottom on the chair. "We will be dancing all night. And I do not think
the performers are boring in the least."
Regine
did not reply, lifting her shoulders in a spoiled gesture. A serving wench
passed by with a full trencher and Regine imperiously demanded that it be
placed in front of her. The plate was barely settled before the plump young
girl was digging into the food with both hands.
The
group of performers executed several dances. Regine finished her trencher and
greedily consumed two goblets of fine wine as Arissa wait for Richmond to make
an appearance. Her attention was diverted from the entertainment at one point
when she saw Emma and Gavan to be in conversation, but Emma seemed to be
controlling her urges rather well and Gavan was actually smiling.
Satisfied
the situation did not require her intervention, she returned her focus to the
last few moments of the Macedonian act and wondered if Richmond was ever going
to show himself. She did so want to apologize for her hateful words.
The
performance abruptly came to an end and the gay audience applauded loudly. Just
as the dancers were leaving the floor, a shadow fell across Arissa from behind.
Huge hands reached down for Regine.
"Remove
yourself, lady," Richmond's voice was low. "You are in my
chair."
Regine
leapt to her feet as if his touch had burned her, stumbling in her haste to
dislodge her blistered bottom from the embroidered seat. Her eyes were big on
Richmond as she gave the man a wide berth, scampering away in fear. Richmond did
not so much as pass her a glance as he assumed his seat beside Arissa.
Arissa's
gaze was anxious as she looked upon him. He kept his attention averted,
however, shoving aside Regine's trencher and summoning his own. Only when he
was served with both food and drink did he turn his focus to Arissa.
Arissa
lost her breath with the intense look in his eye. They blazed upon her and
instinctively, her palms began to sweat. But it was more than his gaze; the
overall picture of Richmond le Bec was enough to strike her speechless. The
magnificent presentation lain before her had been well worth the wait.
He
was armorless. She'd never seen him armorless on a social situation. Clad in a
dark blue tunic, simple but masculine, black breeches and his customary black
boots, he looked absolutely stunning. The swelling on the bridge of his nose
had almost disappeared and the cut above his eye was practically invisible. He
was glorious.
"Greetings,
my lady."
She
swallowed hard, followed by a feeble smile. She couldn't seem to take her eyes
off him. "Good eve, my lord."
He
returned her smile, his eyes glittering. "Your party seems to be a success
already. What did you think of the Macedonian dancers?"
"They
were wonderful," her voice was strangely tight. She couldn't care less
about the Macedonian dancers at the moment. "Where have you been? I
thought.... I thought mayhap you had decided not to attend."
His
brow furrowed momentarily. "Why would you think that? I do apologize for
my tardiness, however. After a day of rolling in the dirt I thought it best to
bathe before attending your celebration, lest I chase off your guests with my
foul odor."
Her
smile turned genuine. "Where is your armor?"
"I
cannot dance in armor."
"You
plan to dance? Richmond, I do not believe I have ever seen you dance."
"Because
I have never danced with you."
A
charming blush crept into her cheeks and she looked away, taking a dainty sip
from her chalice. The evening was looking brighter already.
"Thank
you for sending Gavan to escort me," she said quietly. "I am sorry he
did not bring Kathryn."
"Kathryn
cannot travel in her pregnant condition and Gavan is nervous enough without the
added risk of a long ride," he glanced across the room. "Emma,
however, does not share your view."
Arissa
looked over her shoulder. Emma was following Gavan around as he moved about the
room. He was seeing to the security of the gallery as Carlton and Daniel
enjoyed themselves and did not need the added distraction of Emma's company.
Arissa
shook her head at her aggressive friend. "I shall go and speak with
her."
He
put his hand on her arm as she moved to stand. "Gavan is a grown man and
can handle himself against the onslaught," when Arissa relaxed into her
seat, he smiled at her. "I demand that you ignore the rabble and enjoy
yourself. This is your party, is it not?"
She
returned his grin. "It is," after a lengthy pause, her smile faded.
"I am sorry I became angry with you, Richmond. I should not have said what
I did."
He
patted her hand, a quick squeeze before releasing it. "There is nothing to
forgive, kitten. If anyone should apologize, it should be I for upsetting you
so on your birthday."
"You
had every right to be angry," she lowered her voice so her father would
not hear. "I approve of the manner in which you handled the situation. You
are exceedingly wise."
He
cocked a dark eyebrow, finishing the insult. "As befitting my age."
She
smiled. "Your words, my love, not mine."
Arissa
watched Richmond through dreamy eyes as he devoured his meal. He cast her an
occasional wink, his favorite gesture, trying desperately not to appear too
upswept with her delightful beauty. But it was terribly difficult when her
sweet face was a mere foot from his own, her green eyes watching his every
move.
More
than that, he was positive that if she gazed into his eyes long enough, she
would be able to read of his terrible guilt, his sweeping grief. Discovering
his betrothal not an hour before still had him reeling with shock, a shock that
transformed into unimaginable pain every time he gazed in Arissa's eyes. He
knew, without a doubt, that she would take the news much harder than he had.
Arissa
suddenly leaned against his arm, sending a surge of shock bolting through his
body. His first reaction was to move away from her lest William take note their
close contact, but in the next breath he realized that Arissa had oft leaned
against him over the years, an affectionate gesture and nothing more. And if
she was not leaning on him, she was sitting upon his lap and demanding stories.
There was nothing unusual about their contact and he struggled to maintain a
casual manner.
Her
cheek against his massive bicep, Arissa yawned. "When are they going to
commence dancing?"
He
gazed down at her dark head, resisting the urge to deposit a kiss on the raven
tresses. "Give the word, kitten, and I shall command it."
She
raised her head, gazing up at his incredible face. "The word is given. I
want a lively dance, if you please."
He
frowned, feeling himself being sucked into the powerful vortex of her gaze.
"Not too lively. I will not be able to keep pace."
"You
mean you are too old to keep pace," she laughed softly at his menacing
expression. "Hurry, now. Go and tell them to begin playing before I fall
asleep."
"You
would fall asleep at your own party?"