Roi couldn’t take his eyes off her when she arrived, and Diara blushed modestly throughout the entire ceremony. Roi couldn’t stop staring, and she couldn’t stop smiling. They were nearly to the end of the mass when the sentries took up the cry at the gatehouse, announcing the arrival of the Earl and Countess of Cheltenham.
Perhaps they had arrived late, but that didn’t matter to Diara. She was thrilled they’d made it at all. She hugged her mother fiercely and embraced her father tightly, apologizing to the man for any disobedience or trouble she might have caused him, but Robin seemed overjoyed to see her. Not a harsh word passed between them, nor did any harsh words pass between him and Roi. Robin was the model father of the bride, gracious to everyone. He was everything Diara hoped he would be. The wedding mass was finished with her parents by her side, and with that, Diara became Lady de Lohr.
Then came the wedding feast.
Since Diara and Roi were married around midday, the feast started immediately thereafter and went on well into the night. Tiberius, back from his near-fatal beating from his mother, was the life of the party. As if nothing terrible had happened the night before. He drank, he sang, and he encouraged others to do the same. The only one who came close to his antics was Peter’s son, Andrew, but every time he got out of hand and his father would shoot him an appraising look, he’d settle down to avoid a fatherly scolding. But the process would repeat until Peter finally gave up and let his son have some fun.
There was plenty of laughter and singing to go around.
One of those singing was, in fact, Roi. He’d been roped into a few songs by Tiberius, Andrew, Douglas, and Westley, and every time he tried to leave, they’d grab him around the neck and make him stay. Diara sat at the dais with Iris and her mother, laughing at Roi’s discomfort because he really wasn’t much of an exhibitionist. She’d heard him sing several songs, not the least of which was a tavern song about an old whore named Rose. That song only came up once because when they realized it mentioned a whore, and because of the situation with Diara the night before, they quickly took that off their singing list. At one point, Roi pulled the soldier playing the lute over to the dais and had the man play a song for his new wife that soon had every woman at the table swooning.
In his surprisingly good baritone, he sang only for Diara.
Come roam with me, my love,
Come roam far with me,
Away from this hard world,
And love only me.
They said that you loved me,
They said that you cared.
They said that your strong heart,
Wasn’t mine to be shared.
When he was finished, the table exploded with applause, and that included Diara’s parents. Roi reached out and took her hand, kissing it sweetly, but he was pulled away from the table by revelers who wanted to sing something more lively. Diara simply waved at him, deliriously happy with a husband, and a wedding, that was far beyond anything she could have ever imagined.
Her father, in fact, had been watching everything.
Sitting with Christopher and Peter and Jameson Munro, Robin was still under the impression that the sooner he rid himself of his de Lohr attachments, the happier he would be. He watched every man at the dais, the de Lohr relatives and sons and brothers, knowing that he was looking at the largest military might in England, but also knowing it only emphasized to him that he would never be able to control this bunch. He’d be a very tiny part of a much bigger picture, and that wasn’t the life he wanted for himself.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen that before.
His greed to want the de Lohr ties had been his downfall. He thought it would bring him prestige. He thought it would bring him power. But he was coming to understand that the power wasn’t his, and it never would be. Certainly, he was an earl—and he had a good-sized army and wealth—but the de Lohrs were in a league all their own, and it was nothing he would be able to compete with. Robin didn’t like being a small fish in a big pond. He knew now, more than ever, that the de Lohr betrothal he’d begged for years ago had been a mistake.
He wanted out.
“Do you hunt?”
Robin was jolted from his train of thought by a question coming from Christopher. The man was seated next to him, cup of fine wine in hand, and Robin turned to him with a weak smile.
“From time to time,” he said. “I prefer to spend my time traveling as opposed to hunting. I have lands in France, you know.”
Christopher shook his head. “I did not,” he said. “Where?”
“Near Caen,” Robin said. “Something left to me by a distant cousin. Rich land, however. I enjoy spending summers there.”
“I didn’t realize you summered out of England.”
Robin nodded. “I have for years,” he said. “Ananda and Diara have never gone, and I prefer that. A man should have a place all his own, a place of peace. Chateaux Beuville is mine.”
“What do you do for respite there?”
Robin shrugged. “I read,” he said. “But I will tell you a secret—there is a lake on the property, and I like to fish. Seems like a rather common pursuit, but I enjoy it.”
