“Oak, but that can be quite dirty.”
“True.”
“I could always weave a garland of roses, but that might not suit you too well.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thankfully,” he said. “I am not entirely sure I could show my face wearing a garland of roses. But if you made it, I would wear it.”
She smiled, displaying a big dimple in her right cheek. “Ah,” she said. “A man who knows his obligation. If a woman makes it, he wears it. No matter if he likes it or not.”
Roi was grinning, swept up in her obvious charm. “Only a fool would not do as a woman asks,” he said. “I learned that many years ago.”
Diara was smiling openly at him. “And you have carried that knowledge into your adult years.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Beckett’s mother taught me that, in fact. If a man wishes to make his wife happy, then he does as she asks. Truly, it is not difficult, though some men are simply stubborn. But they all learn in the end.”
Diara chuckled. “My father still has not learned,” she said. “If he feels like obeying my mother, he will do it, but mostly, he insists she obey him in all things.”
Roi’s smile faded. “I think your father insists that most people obey him in all things.”
He was referring to the marriage contract and the commotion he’d caused. Diara knew that, and her smile faded.
“Will you tell me truthfully, my lord?” she asked quietly. “Was he terrible to you? If he was, I cannot apologize enough.”
Roi thought her concern to be quite sweet. “Nay,” he said softly. “He was not terrible. I suppose if I had a daughter Iwished to marry to a fine husband, I might have behaved the same way.”
Diara shook her head in regret of her father’s behavior. “But he should have waited,” she said. “You have only just lost your son. It was too much of him to expect you to fulfill your son’s obligations.”
Roi shrugged, propping his right foot onto his left knee and brushing the dirt off the heel. “It is done,” he said. “I was the most logical choice, so let us speak no more about it, shall we? I do not want you to think your father tied me to a pole and beat me until I agreed.”
Diara burst out in soft laughter. “If you must know, that was what I envisioned,” she said. “I had this image of my father, who is half your size, wrestling you to a pole and taking a switch to you. Do you mean to tell me that did not happen?”
Roi was back to grinning. “It did not,” he said. “But I had some help in resisting him, to be honest.”
“Who?”
“My elderly father, for one.”
Diara was still laughing. “I have heard tale of Christopher de Lohr,” she said. “Elderly or not, I am certain he could take on an army all by himself and still emerge the victor. Men like him are made of legends.”
Roi appreciated her respect for his father. “They are, indeed,” he said. “And where did you hear tale of him?”
“I fostered at Carisbrooke Castle,” she said. “The House of de Redvers is always in the middle of whatever is transpiring in England. There is not much I haven’t heard through them.”
Roi’s eyebrows lifted. “Did you get on well with the family?”
Diara hesitated. In case Roi happened to be friends with the House of de Redvers, she didn’t want to disparage them, even though she had enough reason to do so. But she forced a smile.
“Lady de Redvers was a great teacher,” she said as neutrally as she could. “I spent several years there. I do like Devon.”
“The House of de Winter has property near Carisbrooke. Do you know them?”
She nodded. “I do, my lord.”
He held up a hand to give her pause. “Wait,” he said. “Before we continue, I would consider it a favor if you would not address me so formally. In private like this, I would be honored if you would call me Roi.”
An expression of warmth flickered across her face. “I would be honored,” she said. “But… I thought your name was Richard?”
He nodded. “It is,” he said. “I was named after my godfather, King Richard. When I was young, I was even called Richie, but somewhere around my eighth year, a family friend called mepetit Roi Richard, and from that moment forward, everyone addressed me as Roi.”
