Roi laughed softly, reaching out to take a bow from Eddard. It was a warm afternoon, two days after his arrival to Cicadia, and he was finding out just what kind of woman he was about to marry. He and Diara had spent nearly every moment together since he arrived, and the archery competition was the latest event in days that had been full of such things.
And he’d enjoyed every single minute of it.
In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed anything more.
“I will take that into consideration the next time I need archers in battle,” he said, selecting an arrow as stable servants removed the arrows from the targets several dozen yards away.“Not to slander your skill, I will say that hitting a moving target is slightly different than hitting a bale of hay.”
Big targets had been raised against the castle wall near the stables as Diara, Roi, Iris, and Pryce competed for the title of Supreme Archer. Or Queen of the Archers, as Diara so charmingly put it, because she was convinced that she was going to win. Truth be told, Roi was happy to let her because he very quickly realized that he loved to hear her laugh, and she did a lot of it. She was a smooth-talking, sweet flatterer and brilliant conversationalist, something he’d never before seen from a woman.
But it wasn’t just with him.
She teased and laughed with her cousin. She did it marginally with Pryce, who mostly stiffened up and seemed nervous when she did it. She called out to the servant moving the hay bales around, taunting him without making it seem mean-spirited. She even talked to the dogs that would wander into their range. As Roi was coming to see, she was just a very friendly person, and a happy one as well.
But he remembered what Westley had told him.
She is evidently quite… friendly.
Absolutely, he could see that she was. It simply seemed to be her personality, and it was clear at Cicadia that she was well loved. He’d spent two evenings with her, chatting nonstop during supper, and never once did her banter suggest anything inappropriate. No ribald comments, no sexual innuendos. Nothing. She was, quite simply, the most charming woman he’d ever met, and he couldn’t believe Beckett had never mentioned it. His son had only spoken of her in passing, and only rarely, and he’d never mentioned what an enchanting creature she was, which Roi found odd. But not so odd, considering Beckett hadn’t wanted to marry at all.
Aye, Roi knew that.
He’d ignored it, however. No young man wanted to marry at an early age, and Beckett had been no exception. There was a whole world out there, as Beckett had put it, that he wanted to see. He wanted to see and experience everything he could. There was no crime in that. But the reality of a wife didn’t sit well with him, so in a sense, Roi didn’t blame the lad for not speaking favorably of a wife he never wanted.
But, God’s Bones… what his son had missed out on.
As he was pondering the situation and the woman a few feet in front of him, he suddenly realized that servants were gripping the hay bales, moving them from side to side. He came to stand next to Diara as she tightened up the string of the bow.
“What, pray, is happening with the targets?” he asked, fairly close to her ear. “Have you decided to use men instead of hay?”
Smiling, Diara looked over her shoulder at him. “You said that hitting a moving target is quite different,” she said. “I will prove to you that I can hit a moving target.”
He fought off a grin. “What shall I do if you hit one of those men?”
“Give him a proper burial.”
He lowered his head, laughing low in his throat. “Mayhap you should not hit him and save me the expense.”
“I will try. But no promises.”
He continued to laugh. “You are a cruel, cruel woman, my lady,” he said. “Look at those men—they are positively terrified.”
She stopped fussing with the bowstring. “They must show courage,” she said, selecting her arrow and lining it up. “I do not mean to be rude, but do not speak to me while I am trying not to hit those men. If I do, it will be your fault.”
Smirking, Roi backed away, and after a couple of seconds, Diara let the quill fly. It sailed straight into the center of the hay bale, even though it was moving back and forth, and the menwho had been witnessing the competition from the wall above erupted in cheers. Beaming, Diara turned to Roi.
“Well?” she said. “What do you have to say to that?”
He clapped lazily, still smiling at her. “I say that my betrothed is the most skilled, the most brilliant, and the most beautiful woman in all of England,” he said. “I say that I am a very fortunate man.”
The big grin on her face turned to one of genuine warmth, and he could see her cheeks growing pink.
“Do you really?” she said, sounding as if she didn’t believe him. “Or are you simply saying that because I bested you?”
Eyes riveted to hers, he reached out and took the bow from her. “I most assuredly mean it,” he said softly. “I do not say anything I do not mean. Youarethe most skilled, brilliant, and beautiful woman I have ever had the honor to meet.”
Diara let him take the bow. She was so pleased by his kind words that she was feeling a little flushed. And the way he looked at her… sweet Jesus, the man had a gaze that could cut through steel. She felt as if he was looking right down into her heart, for if he really could, he would see just what these past two days had meant to her.
Everything.
