“It is none of his affair,” Christin stepped in, eyeing her mother. “Ty has a loose tongue. Roi, I do not blame you if you take him to task over this. And what was he doing in the ladies’ solar, anyway? This is not a place for him. It must have made Diara feel terribly uncomfortable.”
Diara looked at the eldest de Lohr sibling, a beautiful woman with dark hair and her mother’s gray eyes. Her husband, Alexander de Sherrington, had been Christopher’s right-hand man for many years, a man of great reputation and talent. Sherry, as he was called, was in the north with two of their sons, trying to broker some kind of peace treaty for Henry between two warring barons, leaving his wife and remaining children and grandchildren at Lioncross. Truth be told, Christin was firm, unapologetic, and had a strong way about her. She was no shrinking violet, a strong woman for an equally strong man.
Diara smiled at her when their eyes met.
“You are kind to worry over my feelings, but truly, it was no trouble,” Diara said. “I think it is a natural question. Beckett is gone, and, suddenly, I’m marrying his father. It is puzzling.”
“That is true, but it is still none of their affair,” Christin said. “You are gracious for not being angry about it.”
Diara’s smile broadened. “I am trying to get along with all of the de Lohrs and their offspring,” she said. “Anger has no place until I know them better and can back that anger up with a club.”
Christin started laughing. “I have no doubt that you would,” she said. But then she looked at Roi. “Speaking of clubs, did Curtis tell you what has been planned for your wedding celebration?”
Roi frowned. “Christ,” he muttered. “Do I want to know?”
Christin was grinning. “You should probably be forewarned,” she said. “I heard him speaking with Douglas and West about having some games to celebrate. The usual games, with balls and sticks. You used to be fairly good at them.”
Roi rolled his eyes. “I am still good at them,” he said. “But I will be a new husband, and I do not want to be crippled when I have a new wife, and those fools will try to take me out by the knees and laugh because they will have ruined my… Well, it will be difficult to be a husband. In the usual way.”
He was digging himself into a hole trying to describe how difficult it would be to make love to his new wife with busted knees. He started to snort, unable to go any further, but Christin and Dustin knew what he meant even if Diara really didn’t.
“I would not worry,” Dustin said, smiling at her embarrassed son. “Your father will not compete, so it will only be Curtis, Douglas, West, and a few of the others.”
Roi pointed a finger at her. “It is those ‘few others’ I worry about,” he said, counting them off on his fingers. “Ty, Gallus, Maximus, Chris, William, and Arthur. Thank God Myles and his sons are not here and that Sherry and his sons are up north. And Cassius… If Brielle and her brood were here, including her beast of a husband, I would not play altogether. Cass will go for the kill.”
Dustin and Christin were laughing, but Diara looked at him curiously. “Brielle is another sister, isn’t she?” she asked.
Roi nodded. “The one you haven’t met,” he said. “Christin is the eldest, followed by Brielle. Her husband rode the tournament circuit professionally for years, and he’s positively unbeatable in nearly everything. He’s also a de Velt, which means he comes from a dynasty built on blood lust.”
“And you have many nephews that could compete in these games?” Diara asked.
Roi shook his head sadly. “Many,” he said. “Too many to name. Trust me when I say that there are too many de Lohrs, and all of them love to best one another in games of competition. If Curtis has games planned for our wedding celebration, I can promise you that they are out to do damage.”
“But why should they want to?”
“Because you don’t know my family. We would kill for one another, but we are also quite competitive with each other.”
“He is making it sound worse than it is,” Dustin said. “Do not listen to him, Diara. In fact, let us speak on something more pleasant. I was hoping you could go up to my chamber and ask my maid for the Dublin lace. I wanted to show it to you. Will you fetch it and bring it back?”
Diara nodded, already heading for the door. “Of course, Lady Hereford,” she said, pointing to the ceiling. “On the top floor?”
“Aye,” Dustin said. “Roi, go with her. Help her navigate this enormous place.”
With a smile playing on his lips, still thinking about bruised kneecaps and gloating brothers, Roi took Diara’s hand and led her out into the corridor. She beamed at him, holding his big hand with both of hers, gazing up at him adoringly. Roi was so busy watching her and not where he was going that he nearly ran into a wall. As they laughed softly at one another, completely caught up in the romance that had become their lives, Roi caught sight of his eldest brother near the entrance to the keep.
“Can you find my mother’s chamber on your own?” he asked, eyes on Curtis. “I should like to speak with my brother.”
Diara could see where his attention was. “About the wedding celebration?”
“Aye,” Roi said, kissing her hand before letting it go. “I feel the need to make a few things clear to him about his plans. No clubs, no targeting my knees. Or anyone else’s.”
Diara giggled. “Go,” she said. “I will see you later.”
He glanced rather seductively at her. “You surely will.”
He winked at her and was gone. Diara watched him go, sighing rather dreamily. But she shook herself of the daydreams, so deliriously happy for the first time in her life. It was as if Roi de Lohr had opened up an entirely new world to her, one with a big family of people who were kind to her, and most importantly, of women who were kind to her. That was something of an anomaly in her world. A marriage she was dreading, at least at first, had turned into something she was looking forward to more than she could express. Everything about Roi made her sing.
Especially her heart.
