glared at him. "'Tis no more haphazard and a good deal less bloody than the trial by combat which you proposed, Sir Nicholas."
"Hellfire," Gareth muttered. "Do you know what you're doing, lady?"
"Aye." Clare did not give anyone else time to interfere. She plucked the first petal from the primrose.
"Sir Gareth."
A stir of excitement went through the crowd. More wagers were placed.
Gareth's gaze shifted to the primrose. He studied it intently for a few seconds and then he sat back in his chair with an expression of quiet satisfaction.
"Sir Nicholas." Clare tore off another petal and let it flutter to the table.
Nicholas scowled at the flower. "This is an idiotic way to select a husband."
"When one has been given a choice between idiots, one uses an idiotic method of selection." Clare smiled sweetly and ripped off another petal.
"Sir Gareth."
There were only two petals left on the primrose. Clare plucked the next to the last one. "Sir Nicholas."
Hisses of dismay mingled with shouts of triumph as the crowd realized who the winner would be.
Clare held up the primrose to display the single remaining petal. She tore it ruthlessly from the stalk.
"Sir Gareth of Wyckmere."
A thundering din arose from the hall as the diners pounded their tankards on the tables.
Nicholas's face contorted with fury. "Damn it to the pit, woman, what do you think you're doing?"
"Choosing the new lord of this manor." Clare swung around with a flourish and handed Gareth the denuded primrose. "Welcome, my lord. I trust you will be content with what you have gained."
Gareth took the naked stalk and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Aye, my lady." His eyes gleamed.
"I am well content."
"God's blood," Nicholas surged to his feet. "I am far from satisfied.
You cannot choose a husband in this fashion."
"Tis done. I have made my selection, as I was commanded to do by Thurston of Landry." Clare stepped back from the table. "And now you must excuse me. I am going to my bedchamber. I find myself much wearied by the excitement."
"God's blood," shouted Nicholas. "I'll not stand for this."
"You, sir, have nothing more to say about the matter." Clare raised her chin. "As it is too late for you to return to Seabern, you are welcome to stay the night. Arrangements have been made."
She picked up her skirts and started around the table. Joanna rose quickly to join her.
Clare was aware of everyone watching her as she crossed the room to the tower stairs. She paused on the first step and looked back toward the head table, where Nicholas and Gareth sat.
"Before I take my leave, sirs, I have one more thing to say." She met Gareth's eyes. "Know this, my future lord. There has never been violence here on this isle. I will not tolerate any tonight. Is that understood?"
"Aye, my lady," Gareth said softly.
"If blood is shed in this hall before morning," Clare continued through set teeth, "I vow, I will take the veil rather than wed you or any other man."
More whispers of wonder and speculation washed over the crowd. Nicholas looked suddenly sly.
Clare glanced disdainfully at Nicholas and then she returned her attention to Gareth. "And lest both of you decide that you would be better off without me to contend with, remember that if I enter a nunnery, I will not go empty-handed. I shall take all the secrets of my perfume recipes with me. They will be my dowry to the convent."
Another hushed silence fell on the hall as the impact of that statement made itself felt. There was not a soul on the isle who was not aware that the revenues from Desire were based on Clare's perfume recipes.
Without them the fields of flowers and herbs were useless.
Satisfied that she had made her point, Clare smiled grimly at Gareth.
"Your first task, Sir Gareth, is to keep the peace in this hall. If you would enjoy future profits from my perfumes, you must accomplish the business without drawing blood. I bid you good night."
She picked up an oil lamp that was burning on a
"Hellfire," Gareth muttered. "Do you know what you're doing, lady?"
"Aye." Clare did not give anyone else time to interfere. She plucked the first petal from the primrose.
"Sir Gareth."
A stir of excitement went through the crowd. More wagers were placed.
Gareth's gaze shifted to the primrose. He studied it intently for a few seconds and then he sat back in his chair with an expression of quiet satisfaction.
"Sir Nicholas." Clare tore off another petal and let it flutter to the table.
Nicholas scowled at the flower. "This is an idiotic way to select a husband."
"When one has been given a choice between idiots, one uses an idiotic method of selection." Clare smiled sweetly and ripped off another petal.
"Sir Gareth."
There were only two petals left on the primrose. Clare plucked the next to the last one. "Sir Nicholas."
Hisses of dismay mingled with shouts of triumph as the crowd realized who the winner would be.
Clare held up the primrose to display the single remaining petal. She tore it ruthlessly from the stalk.
"Sir Gareth of Wyckmere."
A thundering din arose from the hall as the diners pounded their tankards on the tables.
Nicholas's face contorted with fury. "Damn it to the pit, woman, what do you think you're doing?"
"Choosing the new lord of this manor." Clare swung around with a flourish and handed Gareth the denuded primrose. "Welcome, my lord. I trust you will be content with what you have gained."
Gareth took the naked stalk and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Aye, my lady." His eyes gleamed.
"I am well content."
"God's blood," Nicholas surged to his feet. "I am far from satisfied.
You cannot choose a husband in this fashion."
"Tis done. I have made my selection, as I was commanded to do by Thurston of Landry." Clare stepped back from the table. "And now you must excuse me. I am going to my bedchamber. I find myself much wearied by the excitement."
"God's blood," shouted Nicholas. "I'll not stand for this."
"You, sir, have nothing more to say about the matter." Clare raised her chin. "As it is too late for you to return to Seabern, you are welcome to stay the night. Arrangements have been made."
She picked up her skirts and started around the table. Joanna rose quickly to join her.
Clare was aware of everyone watching her as she crossed the room to the tower stairs. She paused on the first step and looked back toward the head table, where Nicholas and Gareth sat.
"Before I take my leave, sirs, I have one more thing to say." She met Gareth's eyes. "Know this, my future lord. There has never been violence here on this isle. I will not tolerate any tonight. Is that understood?"
"Aye, my lady," Gareth said softly.
"If blood is shed in this hall before morning," Clare continued through set teeth, "I vow, I will take the veil rather than wed you or any other man."
More whispers of wonder and speculation washed over the crowd. Nicholas looked suddenly sly.
Clare glanced disdainfully at Nicholas and then she returned her attention to Gareth. "And lest both of you decide that you would be better off without me to contend with, remember that if I enter a nunnery, I will not go empty-handed. I shall take all the secrets of my perfume recipes with me. They will be my dowry to the convent."
Another hushed silence fell on the hall as the impact of that statement made itself felt. There was not a soul on the isle who was not aware that the revenues from Desire were based on Clare's perfume recipes.
Without them the fields of flowers and herbs were useless.
Satisfied that she had made her point, Clare smiled grimly at Gareth.
"Your first task, Sir Gareth, is to keep the peace in this hall. If you would enjoy future profits from my perfumes, you must accomplish the business without drawing blood. I bid you good night."
She picked up an oil lamp that was burning on a
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