a great disadvantage."
"By the devil, this is not a matter of wits," Nicholas snarled. "You insult the lady by suggesting we play a game of chess for her hand."
Clare closed her eyes briefly and sent up a frantic prayer to Saint Hermione.
"What game do you suggest that we play?' Gareth asked.
"Trial by combat. Here and now."
"Agreed." Gareth appeared no more concerned about that suggestion than he had about the first one. "You may choose the weapons."
Clare leaped to her feet again. "I have had enough of this idiocy."
Everyone stared at her.
She planted both hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking and swept the hall with furious eyes. "Hear me, all you who eat and drink at my board tonight. Know that I have had my fill of this foolish business of selecting a husband. Thurston of Landry has promised me that I can make my own choice. I will do so now and put an end to the matter."
A rustle and murmur of interest went through the hall. Men whispered to their neighbors, eager to place hasty wagers on the outcome of this new turn of events.
"My bold and noble suitors wish to play games," Clare said with scathing emphasis. "Very well, a game it shall be. But I shall choose the sport and I shall be the only player."
Gareth's smoky crystalline eyes never left Clare's face.
Nicholas smirked.
"It seems that I must choose between Sir Gareth of Wyckmere and Sir Nicholas of Seabern." Clare gestured toward each man in turn. "Was ever a woman so fortunate in her suitors?"
There were roars of approval from the crowd in the hall. No one seemed to notice the sarcasm in Clare's voice.
She snatched up one of the yellow primroses and held the bloom aloft in front of her so that all could see it. "I shall pluck the petals from this flower. As I do so, I will call out, by turns, the names of each of these fine, chivalrous knights who would be lord of Desire. By my oath, I will wed the man whose name I call out last."
Nicholas's smile vanished. "God's eyes, Clare, you cannot mean to make such an important choice in such a haphazard manner."
She 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
"By the devil, this is not a matter of wits," Nicholas snarled. "You insult the lady by suggesting we play a game of chess for her hand."
Clare closed her eyes briefly and sent up a frantic prayer to Saint Hermione.
"What game do you suggest that we play?' Gareth asked.
"Trial by combat. Here and now."
"Agreed." Gareth appeared no more concerned about that suggestion than he had about the first one. "You may choose the weapons."
Clare leaped to her feet again. "I have had enough of this idiocy."
Everyone stared at her.
She planted both hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking and swept the hall with furious eyes. "Hear me, all you who eat and drink at my board tonight. Know that I have had my fill of this foolish business of selecting a husband. Thurston of Landry has promised me that I can make my own choice. I will do so now and put an end to the matter."
A rustle and murmur of interest went through the hall. Men whispered to their neighbors, eager to place hasty wagers on the outcome of this new turn of events.
"My bold and noble suitors wish to play games," Clare said with scathing emphasis. "Very well, a game it shall be. But I shall choose the sport and I shall be the only player."
Gareth's smoky crystalline eyes never left Clare's face.
Nicholas smirked.
"It seems that I must choose between Sir Gareth of Wyckmere and Sir Nicholas of Seabern." Clare gestured toward each man in turn. "Was ever a woman so fortunate in her suitors?"
There were roars of approval from the crowd in the hall. No one seemed to notice the sarcasm in Clare's voice.
She snatched up one of the yellow primroses and held the bloom aloft in front of her so that all could see it. "I shall pluck the petals from this flower. As I do so, I will call out, by turns, the names of each of these fine, chivalrous knights who would be lord of Desire. By my oath, I will wed the man whose name I call out last."
Nicholas's smile vanished. "God's eyes, Clare, you cannot mean to make such an important choice in such a haphazard manner."
She 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
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