The Gorgon (24 page)

Even at this moment, Bose
continued to answer for Summer as if he had been doing it all his life. Genisa
noticed it, too, seated on the opposite side of her husband, and her gentle
smiles in Summer's direction were approving. But Lance was still distrustful of
the mighty knight and as Bose replied on his sister's behalf, he scowled at the
man.

"She can speak, de Moray,"
he slurred, his expression sweet once more as he looked to his sister.
"Well? Are you planning on missing my bout tomorrow as well?"

Summer swallowed hard, forcing
herself. "Nay, Lance, I shall be there. I am truly sorry I missed your
round today, b-but I was... b-b-busy."

"I would not be so eager for
your bout on the morrow, Lance," Ian sat on the opposite side of Genisa,
muttering into his goblet. "The heralds have already drawn lots and you,
my dear brother, go against Tate Farnum."

Lance cast his brother a
drunkenly wry glance, looking to Tate far down the table between Farl and
Artur. The auburn-haired knight, hearing his name mentioned, looked to the man
he would face on the morrow's joust and the two men exchanged salutes and
threatening expressions.

"You joust like a woman,
Farnum," Lance said, his voice muffled as he drank deeply from his goblet.
Rising from his chair, he plopped his taut buttocks onto the table to better
see the man he was insulting. "'Twill be a pleasure to do away with
you."

Tate lifted his cup. "The
wine is making you mad, du Bonne. I shall knock you to your arse and take great
delight in your humiliation."

Lance gave him a sarcastic twist
of the lips. "I have defeated you more times than you have managed to best
me, loverboy. Keep that in mind when I send you to the ground yet again."

Next to Tate, Farl sighed
dramatically, his bushy red mustache twitching. "I have a better idea. I'd
like to see your bout end in hand to hand combat as the two of you bash each
other's brains to a pulp."

Artur and Adgar gave a quiet
"here, here" in agreement, sending Summer into giggles. Lance,
distracted from his mortal enemy by his sister's snorts, looked to his
rosy-cheeked sibling.

"How dare you show humor at
his insult,” he muttered. “You should be begging my forgiveness for having
missed my bout rather than supporting McCorkle's slander." His eyes
suddenly narrowed as he made contact with his sister's golden orbs. "In
fact, you missed Stephan's and Ian's bout as well whilst you were off tending
de Moray's big head. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Summer met his gaze steadily, a
twinkle in her eye. "You won, did you not? Why are you lamenting my
absence as if  it somehow jinxed your chances?"

Lance's scowl returned.
"Because it was your duty to be in the lodges, supporting your flesh and
blood."

"She shall have the
opportunity tomorrow," Ian said, his lips twitching with mirth. "She
shall watch every second of your brutal battle to the death against Farnum."

Lance looked to his smirking
brother. "And what you find so amusing? At least I have a sporting chance
against my opponent. You'll be lucky if you survive the first pass against
yours."

Summer looked to her middle
brother. "Who are you c-competing against?"

"Me," Bose said
quietly, smiling faintly when she turned her attention to him. She returned his
smile, preparing to reply when Ian reached across both Genisa and Stephan to
tug at his sister's arm.

"Plead for mercy,
Summer," he said softly, with unmistakable humor. "Beg him to place
himself in the path of my lance so that I might unseat him. Be a good girl and
do this for your darling brother."

Summer's eyes glimmered
mischievously at her brother before returning her focus to Bose. Tate and
Morgan, seated next to Bose, saw Summer's expression and shook their heads with
defeat.

"Ian is as good as the
victor," Tate announced loudly, demanding more wine from the nearest
serving wench. "God's Blood, look at her face. How on earth can he
refuse?"

"And the Gorgon falls like a
mighty tree," Morgan lamented with mock-sorrow. "Felled by the will
of a beautiful woman."

"She is not asked me
yet," Bose said calmly, his eyes twinkling at Summer's devilish
expression.

Her smile broadened, sensing the
game afoot. Feeding off the humor and attention, she grasped Bose gently by the
arm, her hand trailing to the fingers toying with his chalice.

"Would you allow Ian to win
if I wished it?"

Her voice was soft, infinitely
tender. Tate and Morgan, now joined by Farl and Adgar and Artur, laughed with
varied degrees of humor as Bose remained focused on the young lady he had spent
the better part of the afternoon kissing. And he knew, whether or not she was
jesting, that his answer would be the same.

"I would."

Bose's knights continued to
chortle loudly at his expense, listening to Lance's high-pitched delight join
in their amusement. The loud laughter had attracted the attention of other
knights on the opposite side of the table, interested expressions focusing on
the frivolity. If Bose noticed the additional attention, he did not react. In
truth, he had eyes only for Summer as she smiled beautifully in reaction to his
response.

"Truly?" she squeezed
his hand. "You would do this for me?"

He fought down a threatening
smile. God's Beard, it was difficult to look into her smiling face and not
respond in kind. "I would do anything for you."

Bose's knights roared their
approval, clapping loudly as if Bose had just accomplished a mighty feat. Lance
clapped too, heartily, as Ian paid particularly close attention to the
conversation; in faith, he had only been jesting when he had asked Summer to
use her influence against the fearsome warrior. And even though he did not
truly believe the man to be serious in his reply, it was increasingly apparent
that he was responsive to Summer's pleas and Ian's hope began to mount. Mayhap
he had a chance tomorrow, after all.

Summer was acutely aware of his
softly-uttered words. She leaned closer to him, tugging on his sleeve.

"You say you will do anything
for me?"

"Indeed."

"Promise?"

"I do."

She did not hesitate. "Then
knock my b-brother on his arse."

The entire table exploded with
boisterous laughter. Lance turned to Ian, slouched in his chair and awash with
a miserable expression, to slap the man heartily on the shoulder in a show of
sympathy. Summer moved away from Bose, her lips still creased with a devilish
smile, to regain her chalice of wine.

"Bravo, Summer,"
Stephan said with quiet mirth. "I applaud a woman who refuses to misuse
her power."

Summer's smile broadened in
response, casting a glance to her forlorn brother three seats away. Ian looked
to his treacherous sister between the splayed fingers of the hand over his
face, grimacing in reaction to her smirking expression.

"You've doomed me, Summer,"
he lamented as Lance patted him on the skull. "By tomorrow this time, I
shall be only a memory."

As the other knights about the
table agreed, Summer's expression softened with mock pity toward her condemned
brother.

"But you are so strong and
skilled, Ian," she insisted with mock conviction. "You've told me so.
And the only reason Sir B-Bose has managed to best you in the p-past is because
he's cheated. Isn't that what you've said?"

The throng hovering about the
table groaned and chortled as Ian turned a shades of red. Summer merely smiled,
loving the attention and the fact that she was succeeding in humiliating her
too-confident brother..

"That's not what I said.
I... I told you that Sir Bose bested me because he is the most powerful knight
in the entire realm."

The bid to avoid Bose's wrath was
met by cheers and drunken salutes; there was not one man about the table
willing to disagree. The snickering laughter was directed at Ian, knowing the
man was struggling to retain his hide.

Through the laughter and revelry
filling the smoky air, Stephan seemed somewhat removed from the dialogue as he
watched his baby sister sample her first true taste of public life. Her smiles,
her rosy cheeks, and her lack of concern for her imperfect speech struck a
chord deep within him.

Stephan and his brothers had
shielded Summer for her own protection. And as Stephan lived and breathed, he
knew his father had kept her isolated for very different reasons; Edward liked
to pretend that he protected his daughter out of fatherly concern when, in
fact, his eldest son knew full well that his father hid the youngest du Bonne
sibling and her stuttering as one would conceal a disease.

Glancing to his drunken father
now and again, Stephan could not help but wonder why Edward had allowed Summer
to mingle with the masses. Mayhap the man was past the point of caring any
longer, a factor Stephan seemed to have a good deal of trouble accepting. Or
mayhap Edward permitted his daughter to attend the feast with de Moray in the
hope that the man would become smitten enough to take the girl off his hands.

Summer was indeed proving to be
witty and beautiful, radiant and sweet.  Her stutter was hardly evident and if
the knights and ladies about the table noticed her occasional stammer, they
certainly had not indicated as such. They were as enchanted with her as de
Moray was and from the expression on Bose's face, Stephan suspected that
enchantment did not quite encompass all of the knight's thoughts.

"Do you see how Bose looks at
Summer?" Genisa's breath was suddenly hot on his ear, distracting him from
his thoughts. As Stephan nodded faintly, his wife squeezed his arm
encouragingly. "Your expression was the very same when we first me. I
would wager to say that we are witnessing Summer's future husband."

Stephan eyed the dark knight a
moment, moving to drink from his chalice. "Time will tell, love."

Genisa grinned, kissing his ear
hotly. "It took you one week to pledge for my hand. How long do you
suppose it will take Sir Bose?"

Stephan groaned softly, his male
member already pulsing with life as his wife kissed him again. "God's
Blood, Genisa, not... here. Later."

She laughed softly. "Sir
Bose's expression has caused me to recollect the very first time we made love.
In an alcove at my father's manse. Do you remember?"

Stephan groaned again, his palms
beginning to sweat with the heat of desire. "Sir Bose's expression has
provoked your lust? I find the fact that another man has managed to rouse you
most disturbing."

"Do not," she breathed,
suckling discreetly on his earlobe. "Be thankful. There is an alcove in
the hallway near the kitchens, my darling. It is a perfect place for our
passion."

Stephan did not reply for a
moment, distracted from the thought of his sister's blossoming popularity by
Genisa's desire. God's Blood, the woman was never satisfied. But, then again,
neither was he.

Abruptly, he stood, thankful that
his tunic concealed his arousal. Pulling Genisa to her feet, he mumbled his
excuses to the table of guests and escorted his giggling wife from the table.
Moving through the smelly hall, he directed her into a dark, seldom used
corridor.

The alcove was deep and narrow,
nearly completely concealed by a large dusty tapestry. Pushing his wife into
the shadowed nook, he absorbed her wicked laughter with his demanding mouth,
drawing at her flesh until her moans of desire drowned away the devilish mirth.
Hiking her skirts to her waist as she fumbled with his hose, he lifted her
against the wall and braced her writhing body with his hips.

 With a soft shout of possession,
Stephan filled his wife with the proof of his powerful passion. Thrust after
mighty thrust, Genisa moved with him, her hands in his hair, her lips against
his ear. She wondered fleetingly if Summer would ever feel the same power from
mighty de Moray and suspecting that she soon would.

***

"Stephan drew Duncan Kerry
in the fifth round," Lance was growing drunker by the moment. "I hope
Genisa's lust doesn't drain his strength."

Ian laughed softly, knowing the
current activities of his brother and sister-in-law and struggling to suppress
the familiar pain the knowledge evoked. Controlling his emotions for Genisa had
grown easier with time, a necessity for the sake of his sanity, until he was
able to quite easily subdue the dull, anguishing ache.  Still, not a day went
by that he did not wish for Genisa to be his. And not a day went by that he did
not envy his brother his good fortune. 

But he refused to allow the
familiar depression to envelope him at the thought of his brother bedding the
woman that he himself was in love with. Instead, Ian found a good deal of
distraction in the situation at hand and endeavored to focus on conversation.

"I am surprised the young
Kerry lad was able to best Sir Adgar," he said, shifting to gain a better
look at the small, trim knight down the table. "A freakish occurrence that
he managed to evade your shield."