“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 whenhe 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.
*
He did notsee 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 glance 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.”
