LORD OF DUNKEATHE (17 page)

"Yes," Nicholas brusquely answered, his voice rough, his expression cool as ever, while Riona tried to regain her missing self-control.

"Good, good!" Uncle Fergus cried, fairly bounding into the room. "What are you going to do?"

"Have a word with Sir Percival in the morning," Nicholas replied. "Since you missed the evening meal, please take some refreshment in the kitchen." He glanced at Riona. "You, too, my lady, if you so desire."

Then he walked out of the chamber.

The moment he was gone, Uncle Fergus gave Riona a wide, mischievous smile. "Came back a bit too soon, did I?"

It was all Riona could do not to groan with dismay.

WHEN NICHOLAS returned to the hall he gave no explanation for his abrupt departure, but played the genial host in spite of being anything but pleased. He wasn't just angry at Percival; he was angry with himself. He'd revealed too much when he was with Riona. Said too much. Done too much.

He had to learn to control his desire for her. There could be no
honour
able future for them, and he did respect her, far too much to even propose that they share his bed without benefit of marriage.

As Nicholas endured Lord Chesleigh's observations about the proper way to train horses—something he was sure the man had never actually done himself—he realized Eleanor wasn't in the hall.

Her cousin was, though, so he made his way to Percival, who was already deep in his cups. "I'd like a word with you, Percival," Nicholas said with false good cheer as he angled the man into a relatively quiet corner.

Percival gave him an ingratiating smile. "I hope Eleanor didn't offend you, my lord."

"Not at all," Nicholas replied, barely able to contain his loathing. "I'd like to speak to you privately, Percival. Will you join me in my solar tomorrow morning after mass?"

The man's eyes gleamed with delighted avarice, obviously interpreting this invitation as a good omen. "I'd be
honour
ed, my lord."

Not trusting himself to control his tongue, Nicholas merely smiled and nodded before moving off to talk to Audric, who was a blessed relief from the half-drunk Percival and the smug Lord Chesleigh.

THE NEXT MORNING, Nicholas stood at the arched solar window, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed his courtyard, his soldiers on watch or preparing to ride out on patrol and his servants helping to load one of his guests' wagons.

"So, Lady Isabelle has decided to depart?" he asked Robert, who sat at the table checking one of his many lists.

"Yes, my lord," the steward replied. "Her guardian felt there was no need to linger here."

"What reason did he give? He may be a minor knight, but I hope I've done nothing to give him any serious
offence
."

"I suspect Lady Isabelle, whatever her faults, was clever enough to deduce that she wouldn't be your choice."

In truth, Lady Isabelle hadn't impressed Nicholas as much of anything, except a woman. "No, she would not, but I'll be courtesy itself when he takes his leave. Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?"

"A messenger from your sister arrived while we were at mass," Robert answered. "She thanks you most kindly for the invitation, and she and her family will be arriving in a se'ennight."

Nicholas faced his steward. It was Marianne's opinion on his potential brides he sought, not his brother-in-law's, or that of a four-year-old boy and an infant. "I didn't invite the whole lot of them."

Robert regarded him with dismay. "Shall I send another message telling her—?"

"No. I suppose she has to bring the baby, and she doesn't want to leave Seamus or her husband."

"They are a very happy and contented family."

Nicholas didn't need to be reminded of that. "Anything else?"

"Until the hay is brought in, my lord, we're going to be a little short of fodder for the stables."

"Buy what we need from the neighboring estates."

Robert delicately cleared his throat. "I fear I must remind you, my lord, that we lack an abundance of money. If we could cut back on some of the other expenses—food or drink, perhaps?"

"I don't want my guests to think I'm poor, or inhospitable."

"Of course not, my lord. Yet I must point out that we've taken quite a gamble spending so much and now—"

"I took the gamble, Robert. Not you."

"Yes, my lord."

"Anything more?"

Robert shifted and toyed with the edge of the rolled parchment he held. "Unfortunately, my lord, while no one has complained about the food or the wine, there have been some murmurings of discontent among the nobles."

"What about?" Nicholas demanded, thinking of the amount of money he was spending to keep the aristocrats housed, fed and entertained. "If it's the weather, surely they can't expect me to do anything about that."

"No, my lord, not the weather." Robert cleared his throat again and didn't meet Nicholas's steady gaze. "There are questions being asked about the Scot and his niece."

"What sort of questions?" Nicholas asked, wondering if anyone had guessed that he had feelings for Riona.

"Well, my lord, they wonder why they're still here. It's quite clear that they are not wealthy, or influential."

"Tell them what I told you—they are the only Scots who came and I won't have other Scots claim I was too proud to entertain the notion of marrying one of their countrywomen, even if no other arrived. My guests should understand I dare not upset the Scots. They all live in fear that one day, the Saxons or the Welsh might rebel. You can also tell my noble Norman guests that Fergus Mac Gordon has some very interesting ideas about livestock that I want to hear."

"As you wish, my lord."

"Is there anything else?"

"No, my lord."

Nicholas returned to looking out the window. Sir George came reeling out of the hall. He stopped by the nearest wall and, throwing back his head, relieved himself.

"The wine," Nicholas muttered.

Robert, on the threshold, hesitated and turned back. "My lord?"

"Save what you can on the wine. Use the best only at meals. At other times, cheaper will do, especially if it's for Sir George. I don't think he'll notice, or care."

Robert smiled. "No, my lord, I don't believe he will."

Sir Percival, in a tunic of bilious green and light blue in a combination that seemed designed to dazzle the eye and boggle the mind, arrived on the threshold of the solar. The steward bowed as he passed him on the way out, while Percival sauntered into the room as if it were his own.

Nicholas wanted to strike him down on the spot. Only the knowledge that he might decide to marry the fellow's cousin kept his temper under control.

"You wanted to speak to me, my lord? About Eleanor, I hope?"

"Yes, I did."

The man's expression changed. He was trying to look as if he wasn't worried, but Nicholas had spent years among warriors of both bravery and bravado, and he didn't doubt that beneath those fine clothes, Percival was sweating.

Good. He wouldn't ask the man to sit, or offer him any wine, either.

"It has come to my attention, Percival," he said, slowly circling the well-dressed, perfumed young man, "that you have made some improper advances."

Percival
coloured
, yet he smiled as if this was some kind of merry jest. "I fear there's been a terrible mistake."

"And you've been the one making it."

"What did she—?" Percival began, then he caught himself and tried to smile again. "What have you heard, my lord?"

"Enough."

Percival's face went from red to white as he paled. He started to stammer something, but Nicholas cut him off.

"I can appreciate that you're used to women misinterpreting your actions, Percival," he lied, hating this pathetic excuse of a man with every fiber of his being. "It must be difficult for a fellow

as handsome as you to even speak to some ladies without your attention being mistaken for more than mere politeness. I can well believe you've unwittingly caused dissension in many a noble household just by your presence alone."

"Yes, yes, that's often the case," Percival eagerly concurred. "Women don't understand that I'm merely being friendly."

Friendly? Under other circumstances, Nicholas would give him friendly. "Since you're such a friendly sort, for the sake of good relations with the other noblemen here in Dunkeathe, I suggest you exercise more care when conversing with the ladies visiting me, both now and when we're—"

Nicholas stopped as if he'd said more than he intended, then forced himself to smile. "Should I choose your charming cousin."

That brought a wide, smug smile to the snake's face. Seeing it made Nicholas want to punch him even more.

"Naturally, my lord, I'll be happy to comply."

"Thank you." Never had it been more difficult for Nicholas to say those words. "I'd also suggest that you refrain from paying too much attention to the maidservants, too."

Percival laughed, a particularly unpleasant sound that was like a horse wheezing. "What, Sir Nicholas, would you have me act the monk?"

Again Nicholas smiled and addressed him as if they were comrades-in-arms. "The pleasures of the tavern are available."

"Ah, yes," Percival replied, as if he were making a great concession.

"There is one other matter I feel I must mention, Percival, and that's your apparent dislike of the Scots."

Percival frowned like a petulant child.

"Whatever you may think of them and for whatever reasons, I must remind you that my estate is here in
Scotland
, and my brother-in-law is a Scot. My bride will have to learn to live here, too, among these people. If you are still so good as to consider bestowing your cousin's hand upon me, I think she would do well to speak to Lady Riona and her uncle, to try to come to some understanding of the Scots. If she does, that may make my final choice that much easier."

Percival got an avaricious gleam in his eyes. "I was wondering if you'd be making that decision before Lammas."

Nicholas gave him a conspiratorial smile. "I must be careful, Percival. Lord Chesleigh is a powerful man, so if I'm not picking his daughter for my bride, I must at least feign finding the choice a difficult one, and that means waiting until Lammas to announce my choice."

Percival grinned, looking like the ambitious, greedy lout he was. "I understand completely."

"I thought you would," Nicholas replied.

Percival threw his arm around Nicholas's broad shoulders, as if he was already related to him, and said, "Shall we sample the pleasures of the tavern together today?"

It was all Nicholas could do not to grab the man's arm and twist
until
he screamed. "You're welcome to, but I have too many demands upon my time with so many guests."

Percival dropped his arm and shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Well, that's a pity, but I suppose that's the price one must pay as host." He sauntered toward the door and breezily waved a farewell. "
Until
later, my lord."

"Until later," Nicholas repeated through clenched teeth as he watched him go.

CHAPTER TEN

A SE'ENNIGHT LATER, Riona sat beside Eleanor in the sunlight shining through one of the hall windows. It was a warm July day, with only a hint of rain in the air. Eleanor embroidered a band to attach to the hem of the lovely scarlet gown she owned. Riona could sew, but her skills were of a more practical sort, suitable for mending and hemming. She didn't know complicated embroidery stitches, and wouldn't have been able to afford the materials even if she did. Nevertheless, she was more than pleased to sit beside Eleanor and help her by threading needles or cutting the bits of brightly
coloured
wool as her friend worked at her frame. They could talk quietly, and Eleanor was teaching her some of the stitches, too.

Across the hall, Joscelind, Lavinia and Priscilla were likewise together, whispering and occasionally casting their eyes about the hall. Lady Joscelind paid no heed to Riona, and Riona ignored her just as completely. The other two ladies seemed to have thrown their lot in with the beauty, and neither Eleanor nor Riona minded a whit. Audric and Lord Chesleigh were playing chess, the board set on the table on the dais. Uncle Fergus and Fredella were somewhere in the
castle
, and Percival had gone to the village again, along with D'Anglevoix.

Percival had been diligently avoiding Riona. What exactly their host had said to him was a mystery, but it was not one either she, Eleanor, Uncle Fergus or Fredella cared to probe too deeply. They were content that it was so, and while Riona believed Eleanor could yet be Sir Nicholas's choice, Uncle Fergus was full of plans and schemes to free her from her cousin. Unfortunately, the law was the law, and Eleanor, who could read, had seen the documents binding her to her cousin's care. It seemed there was little they could do—legally. Yesterday, Riona had spent considerable time trying to convince Uncle Fergus that an abduction would cause more trouble than it would solve. At last, thank God, he'd conceded the point. Barely.