Timeless Tales of Honor (39 page)

William glanced about the table casually to make sure they were not being overheard. No one, save Maude, knew of Arissa's true parentage. He wanted to keep it that way.

"I have already scolded her, Richmond," he said quietly. "But speak with her if it will ease your mind."

Richmond set down his spoon; his appetite had vanished and he felt the need to down the calming contents of his chalice. The other occupants of the table were engaged in their own conversations and he felt comfortable speaking briefly on a secretive subject.

"He’s not pleased that you have decided to throw her a large party for her birthday," he said in a hushed voice, settling back in his chair. Henry was never mentioned by name in their conversations; merely as “he”. "Too many opportunities for his enemies to approach her."

"No one knows of her heritage," William replied in a quiet, even tone. "How is it possible his enemies would discover her to be his bastard?"

"You would be surprised what his enemies know. The walls have ears at Windsor."

"Eyes and an appetite as well, I would wager," William set his chalice to the table. "I have no fear for her safety now that you are here."

Richmond was silent for a moment. "Where is she?"

"Truthfully, I do not know," his gaze sought out Lady Maxine and Lady Livia at the far end of the table. "Where is Arissa?"

"She was not feeling well, my lord," Maxine answered. "She’s resting in her room."

"Not feeling well?" William's brow furrowed. "What is the matter with her?"

"Fatigue, my lord," Maxine said. "She’s quite excited for the party tomorrow."

Richmond had had enough wondering and worrying over Arissa's health. She'd never been a particularly robust individual and to hear that her vigor was lacking once again only reinforced his desire to see for himself.

But he controlled it well. He finished the wine in his goblet and completely drained a third cup before bothering to excuse himself from the table. As casually as he could manage, he strolled from the gallery and into the foyer, focusing on the massive flight of stone steps laid wide before him.

His destination was the second floor.

"
D
o not be so miserable
, child. So he’s returned? Ye wanted him to return, did ye not?"

Arissa sat on a splintered old stool, her elbows braced on the table before her and chin resting in her hands. The expression on her features was one of utter, complete misery.

"Nay,” she groaned. Then she reconsidered. “Aye, I guess I did. Oh, Mossy, I am simply not sure of anything anymore. But I do know one factor; I am pledged to the convent at Whitby and come the New Year, I am obliged to keep my appointment. I must forget about....
everything
in order to begin a new life devoted to God."

Mossy turned from the skunk he had been feeding. Aged did not quite encompass the man; ancient was a more apt term. As Lady Maude's great-uncle on her mother's side, he was as old as God himself and mayhap as wise. At least, Arissa thought him to be wise. Everyone else thought him to be bordering on senility.

"Ye would forget about Richmond?" Mossy prodded gently. "Surely, child, ye cannot forget a man ye've known yer entire life. The man ye love."

Arissa lowered her gaze. "I.... I never said I loved him."

Mossy snorted loudly as spittle flew from his mouth. "Ye did not have to, Riss. I have known ye since ye were a little scrub. There are no secrets between us."

Arissa let out an exasperated sigh and rose from the stool, wandering aimlessly towards one of the three lancet windows that illuminated Mossy's sanctuary. Situated in Lambourn's only tower, it was a wonderful place of curiosity and learning. Lord William thought it to be a den for demons.

"I am pledged to the cloister," she said softly as she gazed out over her beloved Berkshire. "Moreover, Richmond is my father's friend. He’s far too old and far too prestigious, and.... oh, Mossy, ‘tis a waste of time and effort. I am so very weary of it all."

Mossy collected a small bowl and moved to a reed cage that housed a family of rabbits. From the open beams above, a large crow screamed and he waved at it irritably. "Ye're next, Samuel, keep yer patience," he opened the rabbit cage. "It would seem to me that ye must settle the matters in yer heart before ye pledge yerself to God. He wants ye fully, completely, not distracted and miserable. As any man would want ye whole, so does our Lord."

She watched him as he fed the bunnies. "I haven't a choice in the matter. In one month, whole or not, I enter Whitby."

Mossy did not reply until he finished feeding the rabbits. When he closed the cage, he returned to the cluttered table in the center of the room. "God doesn't want ye if yer unhappy. Our Lord wants his children to be happy."

She leaned against the wall, her beautiful face pensive. "I shall never be happy."

Mossy looked up sharply, gazing at her striking profile. "And why not?"

She did not say anything for a moment. Her pale green eyes gazed into the dim space of the tower room, one prevalent thought filling her mind.

"You know why."

Slowly, Mossy returned to the disarray before him. "Ye must tell him."

Arissa let out a harsh gasp, a reflexive gesture to a suggestion she herself had never considered because it was completely outlandish. "Tell him what? Stop antagonizing me, Mossy. I have no desire to play games."

"What games?"

It wasn’t Mossy’s voice that asked the question. Arissa started so violently that she hit her head against the stone wall. Hand to her head, she whirled to the open tower door to find Richmond gazing at her.

A very rare smile creased his lips as he took timid steps into the room. "What games?” he asked, almost gently. “I thought I was your game partner, the only person worthy of your masterful skills."

She couldn't speak. Staring into his brilliant blue eyes, she could barely breathe. Arissa realized six months had done nothing to ease her feelings for him. If anything, they were stronger than before, devouring her until she could do nothing but quiver like an idiot in his presence. He was more beautiful, more magnificent, more powerful than she had remembered. The man improved with age like a fine wine.

"Ah, the mighty le Bec has returned," Mossy said fondly, covering for Arissa's shock. "It has been a long time, my lord. Have ye found a wife yet?"

Richmond's rare smile grew. "Not yet," he slanted a glance at Arissa. "The only woman worthy of my auspicious station is preparing to join a convent. Alas, there is no one else." He winked boldly to let her know he was jesting.

But to Arissa, his gently uttered statement was the embodiment of her deepest desires. Jesting or not, his words carved deep into her heart and she knew that she must leave his presence immediately before she said or did something regretful. Not that she wanted to leave his company; not at all. Only that she knew she had to leave before... before....

She bolted from the wall, dashing across the cluttered room. Stunned, Richmond watched her race from the chamber as if the Devil himself were nipping at her heels. He was so surprised at her behavior that he did not think to stop her; only when he heard her delicate footfalls rapidly descend the stairs was he jolted into action.

"Arissa!" he called after her.

He took a step toward the door, intent on pursuing her, when a sharp voice halted his momentum.

"My lord!"

Mossy was moving toward him, faster than Richmond had ever seen the old man move. "Leave her be," Mossy said sternly. Gazing into Richmond's piercing, puzzled eyes, he sought to clarify his statement. "She... she’s overcome with excitement for the gala tomorrow. She’s not slept a wink and is likely to be edgy."

"Edgy?" Richmond repeated sharply. "Mossy, she was damn well panicked. I must go after her."

Mossy put his hand on Richmond's massive forearm, his manner calming. "Mayhap later, my lord. She needs to... recover."

Richmond's brow furrowed, thoroughly perplexed. "Recover from what?"

Mossy did not dare elaborate. Turning away from the powerful knight, he meandered back to his cluttered table.

"I implore ye to allow Arissa to rest, my lord," he said evenly. "Ye're well aware of her fragile health and she’s in for a busy day on the morrow."

Richmond gazed at the old man a moment, deeply puzzled and concerned. He'd never seen Arissa appear so off balance, and her state distressed him. He couldn't recall saying anything offensive or so terribly horrifying that she should flee his company like a scared chicken.

Mossy, however, was correct. She was under a good deal of stress due to her impending birthday celebration and if his presence seemed to upset her as it apparently did, then he would do his best to stay away from her to allow her a measure of peace. But the thought of keeping his distance from her cut at him, razor-sharp edges of disappointment and sorrow. He hadn't seen her in six months. In four weeks, he would most likely never see her again. His duty as guardian would be complete.

Massaging the back of his neck wearily, he quit Mossy's tower room without another word.

H
e did not see
Arissa until the evening meal. Lady Maude had joined the festivities, gracing the room with her fair, plump presence. Richmond truly liked the generous woman, loving and nurturing whereas her husband could be detached and unbending.

Arissa was already seated by the time he arrived, across the table from him as was her customary position. He took his seat beside William, trying desperately not to gaze into Arissa's lovely face. Her manner earlier in the day continued to distress him greatly, but he refrained from mentioning his concern. He would not question her, nor did he expect an unsolicited explanation. Women were puzzling, frustrating creatures and it was oft their pleasure to act as they pleased.

Lady Regine de Lohr was seated to her sister's left. A fair young girl on the brink of womanhood, she stuffed food into her mouth faster than she could chew. She kept smiling at Richmond, food falling from her lips, and he would shake his head at her in a negative manner every so often; of any living girl-child in England, the very one in dire need of being sent away to foster continued to live within the bosom of her birth-home. She was in desperate need of being separated from her coddling, soft mother in order to learn the true meaning of manners and grace.

Lady Maude still called her “baby”. If anyone needed to be taught the proper conduct of a gracious lady in an unbiased household, the round young lady grinning at him was a prime candidate.

But certainly not her sister. Richmond dared to glace at Arissa as she picked at her food. He hadn't been able to get a good look at her since he returned until this very moment, and he was both grieved and elated to see that she had grown far more beautiful in the six months they had been separated. He did not think it was possible that Arissa could become any lovelier; obviously, he had been wrong.

Her silky black hair was pulled away from her face, falling in soft curls down her back. Lashes so thick that they appeared to be painted-on tickled her cheeks like little fans as she looked to her trencher. He couldn't help himself from staring at her, thinking her to be the most exquisite creature God had ever created.

"Damn that Bartholomew," William growled, breaking Richmond from his thoughts. "I told him to be here promptly for sup. He simply doesn't listen."

"Which is why Lord Lymse sent him home," Richmond replied softly, forcing himself away from Arissa's vision. "Bart had been fostering in Barham for a good ten years before the baron decided nothing could be done with him."

William's lip twitched in an irritated snarl before he quaffed deeply from his chalice. "My only son, heir to my seat. Good Christ, the earldom shall be passed on to an idiot."

Richmond gazed at the man with amused sympathy. "Bart is not an idiot, William. He’s simply...."

"An idiot!" William snorted. "My son, the pagan."

"He’s merely open-minded."

"He questions the church's teachings, for Christ's sake! What is open minded about that?"

"He’s a curious lad, not unlike the rest. He simply focuses his energies into areas where most men fear to tread."

William felt the familiar disappointment his son always managed to cast upon him. "Greek tragedies, Roman mythology, Paganistic rites. The man threatens to disrupt England as we know it."

Richmond's lips flickered with a smile. "Baron Lymse insists he’s an intelligent, well-read boy. Which is, unfortunately, his primary problem. He’s
too
intelligent and well-read."

"He’s an idiot," William muttered into his cup.

With a twinkle in his eye, Richmond turned away. Habitually, his gaze roved in Arissa's direction and he was startled to find her staring at him.

Their eyes met, locked. Pale, delicious green upon bright blue. Richmond was the first to attempt an acknowledgment, lifting his cup slightly in her direction. Forcing a weak smile, Arissa lowered her gaze.

Richmond, too, tore his eyes away from her after a few moments, wondering how her familiar gaze could impact him as if it were the very first time they had met. Not a day went by that he did not curse God and Henry for delegating him with Arissa's guardianship. Had they only just met, it would be far easier to declare his want for her. But as her guardian, he might as well have been her father. The roles were basically the same. He had a sick obsession, in love with a woman he had practically raised.

As he immersed himself deeper and deeper into his depressing thoughts, something on the gallery's balcony caught his attention. Immediately, he glanced up to see Bartholomew de Lohr poised on the ledge dressed in a toga.

Outwardly, he did not change expression. A massive elbow gently jostled William, who was conversing with Carlton. When William turned inquisitively to Richmond, the knight simply pointed to the balcony.

"Good Christ!" William sputtered. "He... he’s
indecent
! What in the hell is he doing?"

Arissa and Regine turned around, gaping at the source of their father's outrage. In fact, the entire room had gone eerily still as all attention riveted to the half-naked man.

Bartholomew was pleased to have their focus. He perched himself on the ledge with arrogant confidence, hooking a thumb in the shoulder-drape of his toga.

"Greetings, citizens!" he bellowed. "In honor of our returned hero, a prose as befitting the most glorious Roman Gladiator!"

"Good Christ," William moaned, casting a glance at his mortified wife. He rose to his feet. "Come down from there, Bart! Go put some clothes on!"

Bartholomew cocked a blond eyebrow at his father. "When I am finished, Great Caesar, I shall be happy to join the orgy. Allow me to finish my performance."

Arissa was smiling faintly at her brother; not because she found him humorous, but because he was trying so desperately to maintain his individuality in a world where the norm was to bear armor and clutch a sword in your hand. Bartholomew was immersed in a world where ancient Romans and Greeks were a part of his everyday existence, and he took great pride in extolling their literary works. In a world where one was considered odd if one was different, Bartholomew de Lohr was something of a freak of nature.

"No performance," William waved him off firmly. "Go put your clothes on. You are offending the ladies."

Bartholomew gave his father an irritated look. "This is a toga, Father. All correct Romans wore togas. Greeks, too. There is nothing shameful about it."

William's face began to mottle a faint red. "'Tis no wonder they destroyed their own civilizations with their decadent dress and eccentric manner. Lad, you were born a thousand years too late."

Bartholomew cleared his throat, ignoring his father completely. Instead, he focused on Richmond. "Oh Noble Warrior," he put his hand over his chest dramatically. "A verse in honor of your return: