Her
grin broke through the restraint, warm and tender. "Except you."
He
slanted her a gaze. "I am the only man worthy of you."
She
couldn't take her eyes off him. "I do love you, Richmond," she
whispered.
His
gaze turned smoky and deep. "And I love you, kitten."
A
pretty flush mottled her cheeks as she tore her eyes away from him, draining
the contents of her chalice. Richmond allowed his gaze to linger on her a
moment longer, moving his attention to the crowd of dancers as one ballad
stopped and another immediately commenced. It was a slow, lovely song and he
rose to his feet, intent on taking Arissa in his arms once more until he was
stopped dead in his tracks.
"Murderer!"
came a harrowing cry.
The
room slowed, voices hushed as all eyes turned towards the source of the
accusation. Richmond had been in the process of helping Arissa to her feet when
the shout was heard; still clutching her hand, he turned in the direction of
the howl.
Ovid
de Rydal stood in the massive archway leading into the gallery, his fat face
coated with perspiration and grief. Richmond did not think it strange that he
seemed focused on him until Ovid began to stumble in his direction.
"Murderer!"
he croaked again, pointing a meaty finger at Richmond. "You have all but
killed my boy!"
Richmond
stiffened as an odd silence settled over the gallery. The music, the dancers,
had come to a halt as Ovid de Rydal ranted and swayed like a madman, and the
object of his accusation was apparently none other than the mighty Richmond le
Bec. Arissa watched, shocked, as Ovid came to an unsteady halt a few feet away
from Richmond.
"You
did this!" Ovid hissed, a wild gleam to his eye. "You killed him, you
bastard. I demand justice!"
"You
will do me the courtesy of telling me what has occurred before you proceed with
your wild allegations," Richmond's voice was characteristically
controlled. "I do not appreciate public slander."
Ovid
swallowed hard, licking his dry lips. Tucked into his wide, gold-link belt was
a slip of crimson; he pulled it free, waving it in Richmond's face. "This
is your crest, is it not? Henry's standard!"
Richmond
eyed the man before reaching out a deliberate hand to retrieve the material
from Ovid's grasp. After a moment of scrutiny, he nodded. "It is."
The
tension in the room thickened. On the dais, William was on his feet and Maude
watched, terrified, as de Rydal soldiers suddenly appeared in the doorway
leading from the foyer.
"Ovid,
remove your soldiers immediately," William boomed, leaping from the dais
as fast as his rotund body could move. "How dare you bring arms into my
home!"
Ovid
was quivering violently, unresponsive to his host as his eyes remained riveted
to Richmond. William moved to stand beside Richmond, his fair face threatening.
"Do you hear me? Remove your soldiers before I unleash my personal
guard!"
As
if on cue, several dozen soldiers appeared on the lofts overlooking the grand
gallery, armed to the teeth with crossbows and long-range spears. As Ovid tore
his gaze away long enough to look upward, Gavan emerged from the kitchen doors,
leading an entire company of Richmond's soldiers. But he refrained from
positioning them, waiting for Richmond's signal.
Tension
was joined by fear. There were as many soldiers as guests in the gallery and
the noblemen began to shield the wives and daughters instinctively. On the dais,
Daniel and Carlton had herded the ladies into a small, frightened huddle in
anticipation of unfolding events.
It
did not take Ovid an over amount of intelligence or time to deduce that he had,
mayhap, acted rashly. But his grief was consuming him, driving him daft with
unchecked emotion. Emotion that devoured his common sense as he faced off
against Richmond and William.
"I
came for le Bec," his voice was shaky, thin. "Give him to me and I
shall be happy to remove my men-at-arms."
"I
am not going anywhere, as I am completely innocent of these outrageous charges
you are so free in announcing," Richmond said steadily. "If your son
has been assaulted, it was not my doing."
"You
are a liar!" Ovid crowed in grief, shaking a finger at Richmond. "My
boy is dying because of your twisted sense of pride. You sent your men to
ambush him in retaliation for his alleged action against you during the Stick
and Ball game!"
"That
is nonsense," William snapped quietly. "Richmond le Bec is not a
murderer. He’s a respected knight with an impeccable reputation."
"He
was hostile to Tad from the onset!" Ovid returned angrily, his voice
cracking with emotion. "From the very moment my son set foot inside
Lambourn, Richmond has declared a personal vendetta against him!"
"Why
would I do that?" Richmond asked calmly. "I do not even know your
son. He, however, has proven to be ill-mannered and sly, which is why he was
sent on his way. If he was ambushed, I had nothing to do with it."
"Then
explain your standard, le Bec!" Ovid thrust a thick finger at the tattered
piece of fabric. "It was on the arrow that imbedded itself within my son's
chest!"
Richmond
handed the fabric to William, who studied it closely. "I assure you, Lord
de Rydal, that I had nothing to do with the attack on your son. I swear this to
you."
Ovid's
expression began to loosen, far less furious and far more desperate. "He’s
just a lad, a young lad with a glorious future ahead of him. Why would you do
this?" Between Richmond and William, he caught sight of Arissa's
astonished face and he suddenly focused on her. His accusations progressed to
gain a portion of madness. "It's because of her, isn't it? My Tad graced
her with his presence and charm and the both of you took offense to his
attentions. You are both involved in this.... this
plot
!"
"The
only plot is the one you have managed to create within your own mind,"
William answered, his voice a growl. "You will clear out of here
immediately, de Rydal. Consider yourself fortunate if I do not seek a measure
of vengeance against you for ruining my daughter's birthday."
Ovid's
wild gaze moved between Richmond and William. He was so badly shaken that his
gray-hued cheeks were visibly quivering. "The king will hear about this.
Simply because le Bec is a royal favorite does not mean that he can get away
with murder. There will be justice!"
"If
I understand correctly, Tad isn't dead yet," William reminded him.
"Furthermore, Richmond has told you that he did not have a hand in this
and you will do him the courtesy of believing his word."
Ovid
shook his head, taking a step back and nearly stumbling over his floor-length
surcoat. He continued to weave unsteadily as he quit the room, his eyes locked
on Richmond and William. He moved like a man whose control had escaped him, a soul
spiraling towards the depths of insanity.
"I
shall have my revenge," he said hoarsely, spittle dripping from his lips.
"I am not daft, le Bec. You did this, as the evidence states. This is not
over!"
Richmond
did not reply as Ovid staggered from the room, followed closely by his
soldiers. Near the kitchens, Gavan emitted a piercing whistle and Richmond's
troops immediately closed in to pursue the de Rydal group. The sounds of
jingling mail and marching boots filled the gallery when the only sounds heard
should have been those of music and laughter.
Shaken,
William did not even wait until Richmond's soldiers had cleared the room before
he ordered the music to resume. Weakly, the orchestra struck up a lively tune
that quickly escalated into a gay dance. 'Twould seem that the entire crowd of
guests was eager to forget the fear that had filled the air not a few moments
before, and several couples delved into the folkdance eagerly.
Richmond
was gradually aware that Arissa was clutching his hand so tightly that her
nails had drawn blood. He passed a concerned glance at her as William turned to
him.
"Goddamn
lunatic," he muttered, meeting Richmond's gaze. "I apologize for the
public humiliation, Richmond."
Richmond
shook his head. "No need, William. But I am rather concerned that my
standard appeared on the arrow that struck down Tad de Rydal. Under the
circumstances, Lord de Rydal could only believe I was announcing my revenge for
being ousted in the game this afternoon."
"You
professed your innocence and he should be intelligent enough to take you at
your word," William scratched his head in a nervous gesture, glancing to
the calming dais. "Well, now, Maude is upset. I should go calm my wife.
Will you take care of my daughter, as you have done so ably for all these
years?"
Richmond
looked down at Arissa, her face pale and fearful. He forced a brave smile.
"I shall make a valiant attempt."
William
looked to his daughter, knowing that Richmond would be far better at calming
her nerves that he would have been. Richmond had always been able to
communicate with her, whereas he had never quite managed to make a strong
connection.
As
the earl strolled across the room, loudly assuring guests that all was well and
demanding they continue to enjoy themselves, Richmond pried Arissa's fingers
from his bloodied hand.
"Would
you care to dance, kitten?" he asked gently.
Her
eyes were wide at him. "I.... I do not feel like dancing," a sob
suddenly caught in her throat. "Oh, Richmond, he thinks you tried to
murder Tad! Ovid has a huge army and...!"
"And
you think he would be foolish enough to declare war against his liege?" he
smiled, attempting to alleviate her growing panic. "I had nothing to do
with Tad's ambush, Riss. When Ovid calms, he realize that I am a man of my
word. If I were going to do away with the lad, I would have had ample
opportunity while he was here at Lambourn. Why would I want until he was on the
road?"
She
was struggling to control the threat of tears. "But he says..!"
He
grasped her delicate arms firmly. "He doesn't know what he’s saying. He’s grieved
and not thinking clearly," releasing her fragile limbs, he snaked an arm
about her slender shoulders. "Let us take a walk about the compound and
clear your head. Mayhap we shall go up to the battlements and throw rocks at
Ovid's soldiers as they are forcibly escorted from Lambourn."
She
couldn't smile at his attempted humor. "I do not want to go for a
walk," she said softly. "I am exhausted, Richmond. I want to
retire."
He
gazed at her pale face, feeling the familiar concern for her frail health.
"Aren't you feeling well, kitten?"
She
shook her head. "Not really. I fear this eventful day has taxed my
strength."
"Of
course," he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and moved through
the crowd toward the head dais. Maude was leaning against her husband as Lady
Livia fanned her furiously. William glanced up from his wife as his daughter
and Richmond approached.
"You
are mother isn't feeling well, Arissa," he said. "She begs your forgiveness
that she must leave your celebration early."
"Arissa
wishes to retire as well," Richmond answered for her. "This entire
day has been rather draining."
"My
poor Riss," Maude said weakly. "I am so sorry, dear. I tried to make
this a wonderful occasion for you."
"You
did, mother," Arissa assured her softly. "It was the most wonderful
birthday I have ever had."
Maude
smiled faintly as Richmond collected Arissa against him and excused them both.
He was unable to make it free of the gallery, however, before several
well-wishers and hopeful young men blocked their exit with words of
congratulations or praise for Arissa's striking beauty. Richmond was less than
cordial as he fended off the throng.
The
foyer was relatively uncrowded, lit with several banks of expensive tallow
candles dyed different colors. Arissa leaned against Richmond as they moved
toward the stairs, feeling his strength flowing through her body to boost her
sagging spirits. Ovid de Rydal's threat frightened her; he was an aggressive, greedy
man and she was positive that he would return for Richmond somehow, demanding
the man's heart on a platter.
Richmond
felt her grip on him tighten as they ascended the stairs. Several of Lambourn's
Household guard were assembled in the foyer and he silently motioned at the
group. Stealthily breaking rank, two soldiers obediently followed.
He
led Arissa to her chamber, practically carrying her limp body the last stretch
of the dimly-lit corridor. Opening the oaken door, he quietly ordered the two
soldiers that had trailed them from the foyer to post guard outside her door.
As the well-armed men took position, he entered the room and closed the heavy
panel softly.
Arissa
still clung to him and he paused, wrapping his arms about her tightly and
planting tender kisses on the top of her dark head. Against him, he could feel
her body quivering.
"My
poor kitten," he whispered, his lips against her hair. "A most
eventful birthday."