God’s Teeth, he’d do anything for her when she used that tone. “Nay, my lady, your sister is far too young to view such brutality.”
“Penelope and Emma are watching,” she said softly.
He gritted his teeth against the caressing tone of her voice, unwilling to look at her because he knew the moment he beheld the pale green eyes, all would be lost. Regine knew it, too.
“Still, I must refuse.”
Arissa did not say anything for a moment. “I would like to watch.”
Damnation! She knew exactly how to manipulate him. If Arissa went to observe the match, he would be forced to accompany her. And he couldn’t very well leave Regine alone, standing by herself.
He turned to look at her. “Do you think that to be entirely wise? After all, you are pledged to God, my lady, and I doubt He would approve of an impressionable young virgin viewing men’s games of strength.”
She smiled at him, a display of beauty so dazzling he was nearly blinded by the sight. He watched, awed, as she approached him, curling her delicate fingers about his massive forearm. Gazing down at her, he could scarcely breathe.
“’Tis only a game, Richmond. It’s not as if I shall be jumping in to the arena to challenge the victor.”
Unconsciously, his free mailed hand covered her soft warm appendages. He did not even realize he was gently caressing her. Certainly, he couldn’t deny her; he’d never been able to. He felthimself caving in to her demand like a spineless dog when, over Arissa’s shoulder, he caught sight of Regine’s smirking face. Like a slap, reality whacked him brutally in the face.Come to your senses, you fool!
“I must still refuse, my lady,” he said, but his voice was strangely hoarse. “Your father would not approve.”
Arissa was not overly upset. Sighing with resignation, she simply turned to her sister and shrugged. Richmond almost laughed at the look of disbelief on Regine’s face.
Feeling as if he had somehow managed to win a small victory, he moved away from the wrestling. “Come, ladies,” he said firmly. “More delights await us.”
Like a spoiled child, Regine danced about in disappointment before thinking better of her embarrassing display. Kicking at the ground one last time, she moved off in pursuit of her sister and the massive knight.
Richmond continued to grasp Arissa’s hand as they made their way towards the servant’s exit to the rear of the keep. Both iron gates were wide open, allowing peasants and guests alike to pass to the open area beyond. A margin of clearing separated the fortifying wall from the forest beyond, a vast manicured field that was used for anything from sword practice to grazing horses. Today, however, it was being prepared for the glorious main event: the archery competition.
“Look, Regine, the archery targets have already been raised,” Arissa shielded her eyes from the bright sun. She turned to Richmond. “Are you competing?”
He shrugged, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I hadn’t thought on it, truthfully.”
“But you are the best archer in England,” Arissa insisted. “Sweet St. Jude, you taught Bart and I to wield a bow and arrow when we were children. Why aren’t you going to compete?”
“As I said, I have not thought on it. I have not used a long-bow in some time, and crossbows are forbidden in competition.”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “I am awarding the ribbon. I would certainly like to award it to you, where it belongs.”
“And you can carry my favor for luck,” Regine said eagerly, her fury from a moment before inexplicably vanished.
Arissa’s face fell when Regine offered her favor to the powerful knight and Richmond could read her disappointment. Touched, not to mention encouraged in an odd way, he took hold of Arissa’s hand and clutched it against his mighty chest.
“Lady Regine, as honored as I would be to carry your favor, I must refuse in favor of the birthday girl,” when Arissa’s head came up in open astonishment, his eyes twinkled at her. “That is, if my lady would allow me to champion her on this most auspicious day.”
Arissa couldn’t help but smile as he gazed warmly upon her. How could he have possibly known exactly what she was leading up to before Regine stole her thunder? To have Richmond champion her in front of her neighbors, allies and friends alike was better than she could hope for. Her father’s friend, for as many years as she had known him, had declined all invitations to champion young, unmarried ladies.
In fact, she remembered clearly at a tournament in Glastonbury when Richmond refused to champion a local earl’s daughter. The earl had been so outraged that he had nearly demanded Richmond’s head until a very calm Duke of Hereford pacified the man. She had been eleven years old at the time; it was the one and only time she had ever seen the duke, the man now known as Henry IV. Even then, the duke had treated Richmond as if he were a god. She barely remembered the would-be king; her attention, as always, had been focused on Richmond.
It was still focused on him, as he was on her. Not wanting to seem quite so flattered or eager, she cocked a saucy eyebrow.
“I shall think on it, Sir Richmond. I was rather thinking on having Tad de Rydal champion me but, alas, I suppose I could make do with you.”
His eyebrows rose. “You cheeky little devil. How dare you consider that arrogant whelp over me. Why, I withdraw my offer immediately.”
She extracted her hand from his heated grasp, although the mood was light. “Very well. And I rescind my request that you compete in this tournament. Why, with your hands shaking with age as they do, there is no telling what you shall hit. Pray, can you even see the target from this distance?”
He drew in a long contemplative breath, resting his massive fists on his hips. Puckering his lips, he turned toward the castle with narrowed eyes. “Quite easily. How clever of the marshals to disguise the mark to look like a battle turret.”
