Even the earl was demanding to know. Richmond and Tad remained where they stood, waiting with thin patience as the officials came to a decision. Finally, and after much discussion, the first field marshal faced the crowd.
“Center mark, high and to the right!” he announced loudly. “Sir Richmond le Bec is the victor!”
The crowd went mad with approval. Arissa was smiling so broadly that she swore her face would split in two. Her focus was riveted to the massive knight politely extending his bestwishes to the loser of the match. She was not surprised when Tad appeared to ignore him.
Beside her, Lady Maude and Lord William rose from their chairs, preparing to congratulate the winner.
“You must commend Sir Tad for a fine match, Arissa,” her mother said quietly.
She nodded graciously, eyeing Tad as he approached on Richmond’s heels. But her attention to him was brief; the moment Richmond stepped before her, all else seemed to fade. His blue eyes were tender on her, and with the expression she had seen before, but there was an added element this time. Something reserved only for her.
The earl held up his hands for silence as he moved toward Richmond. “Good ladies and gentlemen, ’twould seem our winner is none other than Henry’s Great One. Certainly not a surprise.” When the crowd laughed in agreement, William slapped Richmond on his broad shoulder. “Congratulations, Sir Richmond. There was never any doubt in my mind who the victor would be.”
Richmond acknowledged him with a faint smile, his attention returning to Arissa. When the crowd began to grow noisy again, he held up a hand in an unusual show of public control. Richmond could handle a thousand men with ease but, as William had pointed out, a cadaver was better suited to host a crowd of guests.
Nonetheless, the group hushed. Richmond reached out and took Arissa’s hand and, with a widening grin, took a knee before her in a display of chivalry rarely seen. Every woman viewing the scene went soft with the romance of the gesture, the inherent gentleness. The great Richmond le Bec was on bended knee in front of the birthday girl, the beautiful Lady Arissa; what a lovely, delicate picture of genteel grace it presented.
Arissa gazed into Richmond’s beautiful eyes, almost eye-level with him. His smile, terribly tender, was nearly the only thing she was aware of. All else about her was distant and faded.
“I have honored my lady this day by winning the archery competition,” he said loudly, but Arissa could have sworn he was speaking only to her. “In tribute to her most momentous day of age, I humbly bow at my lady’s feet in homage as her champion.”
Arissa cheeks were flushed a lovely pink, tendrils of black hair caressing her face in the faint breeze. Suddenly remembering the ribbon she had all but mashed in her hand, she extended it to Richmond.
“For a contest well executed, my lord,” she said softly.
He took the award from her, noting that it was crumpled and stained because she had gripped it so tightly. Clutching it against his heart, he kissed Arissa’s hand sweetly.
The crowd roared. Still grinning, Richmond rose to his full height, Arissa’s hand enveloped tightly in his fist. Arissa would have been content to allow him to hold her hand for the rest of the day, but she could feel her mother nudging her from behind.
Knowing the gesture’s meaning, she reluctantly removed her hand from Richmond’s grasp and moved toward Tad. His expression was hard, like a pouting child. All tolerance and good feelings vanished, Arissa’s gaze was equally as hard as she curtsied stiffly before him.
“A match well fought, sir knight,” she said as evenly as she could manage.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I would have won, too, had I cheated like Sir Richmond.”
Arissa lost her thinly-held patience. “Sir Richmond did not cheat. He beat you with sheer skill alone, and if you had better manners, you would acknowledge the fact that he’s a greater knight than you could ever hope to be.”
Audible gasps could be heard. William pushed forward, taking Arissa into a protective embrace. “Forgive her, Sir Tad. It has been an exceedingly taxing day and her composure has suffered.”
Arissa irritably yanked herself away from her father, an unusual action. “The only thing that has suffered is my patience with Sir Tad. I was forced to endure his company earlier and I am not at all ashamed to declare him to be an obnoxious, dull-witted boor. I shall not pretend to think otherwise.” Gathering her skirts, she dipped a rapid curtsy to her parents. “If you will please excuse me.”
William, aghast, watched his daughter’s straight back as she marched away. Sputtering, he glanced at his ashen-faced wife, whose features mirrored his own. As Tad worked up a head of steam, Richmond quietly excused himself. He had to; he was far too close to succumbing to snickers.
“I shall see to her, my lord.”
William was not given the chance to reply as Richmond went in pursuit of Arissa. Instead, the earl found himself faced with a humiliated and outraged Tad de Rydal.
The earl had no idea how deep the vein of shame ran. First Richmond had bested Tad in a highly one-sided duel, and where Tad had envisioned an opportunity for revenge in the archery contest, he found himself cleanly defeated. Two crushing blows in the same day, from the same man no less, was far more than his ego could accept.
Where vengeance had once been a sweet taste upon his tongue, it was now a consuming hunger. Dark hatred began to blacken his heart. Short of calling le Bec out in challenge, he began to sort his options.
There would be a time and a place; he simply had to be wise enough to take advantage of it, and lovely Lady Arissa would meet his wrath as well.
It was a promise.
*
Richmond found Arissain the place where she usually went when she was upset. Seated in her father’s solar near the lancet windows inlaid with precious Venetian glass, she was picking harshly at her fingernails. It was a bad habit she had, especially when bored or moody.
