enthusiastic wife is certainly an attraction. She’ll be more willing than you?”
She hadn’t considered persuading
him
of the advantages. “I’m sure of it! She’s keen to marry, and she’d like such a one as you—a man high in the king’s favor.” It was an excellent time to give him some hints of how to please Felice. “She was fearful, my lord, and at first impression, you are a little daunting. But I’m sure you could assure her…”
His brows rose. “Perhaps I really am daunting, Lady Claire.”
“Oh no, I’m sure that—” Claire broke off, for she was not sure of any such thing. “I’m sure you can’t be as bad as—”That was even worse. His brows were up again, but that predatory humor twitched his lips.
Just like a wolf eyeing a trapped rabbit.
Claire sucked in a breath. “If you can show Felice how kind and gentle you can be, my lord, she will be willing, I’m sure.”
“Kind and gentle.” He raised a hand and rubbed those troubling lips with a knuckle. “I see. But why should I want the Lady Felice as wife?”
“She is very beautiful. Perhaps you couldn’t quite see that in the rain.” Claire dug in her mind. “And gifted at music. She’s also an excellent manager. Very frugal.”
A true smile flickered, and Claire was astonished to feel a tiny flare of regret, a suspicion that there might be something about this man worth discovering.
The smile touched his dark eyes. “Are you reconsidering, Lady Claire?”
“No!” She stamped on the folly.
Despite the smile, he lived his life in midnight shades, stained with blood. He had chosen violence as his life. He was a killer with no interest in arts and beauty. He had come here to seize all her father’s possessions, the most valuable of which he couldn’t appreciate at all.
The smile disappeared. “Lady Felice seems prideful and sharp of tongue. I may be slow to anger, but I will not take insolence.”
“Felice would not be
insolent
exactly. She just… just likes to express her opinions.”
“And you do not?”
Even on short acquaintance, he must know that wasn’t true. “My opinions are more moderate, Lord Renald.”
“Are they, indeed? But if we marry, you would be meek and dutiful?”
Claire didn’t like the direction of the conversation. “
Felice
is much better suited to be your wife, my lord. She’s the oldest, you know.”
“Lady Felice, however, does not want to be my wife. In the few words we exchanged, she was even less flattering than you. I seem to remember something about low birth and manners.”
“She was frightened, my lord, that’s all. We all were. Now she’s had time to think, when she really meets you…”
His brows rose again. “But you have truly met me, demoiselle, and seem desperate to escape.”
Cheeks that showed every touch of embarrassment were a great nuisance. Claire tried pure honesty. “I have a particular feeling about violence, my lord. About men who make violence their life. If I marry, I will choose a man of peace.”
“It’s rather hard to marry a monk.”
“My father was not a monk!”
“Your father was unique,” he said flatly, “and died too young.”
“He would not have died young if—”
“If he’d taken the trouble to train for war?” de Lisle offered, but the look in his eyes told her he knew that wasn’t what she’d been about to say. That he’d have been safe if Henry Beauclerk hadn’t stolen the crown.
Claire turned away from the tormenting man. “Please, my lord, let me at least write to Felice. I’m sure I can persuade her that there are many advantages to being your wife.”
“Why not list them for me? They sound like pleasant hearing.”
She ignored that frivolity, and waited for a reply.
“Very well.”
She turned back to study him warily.
“Write it now.” He indicated the parchment and inks on her desk. “I will have it sent to the camp and your aunt awoken so she can read it.” He moved the tall standard
She hadn’t considered persuading
him
of the advantages. “I’m sure of it! She’s keen to marry, and she’d like such a one as you—a man high in the king’s favor.” It was an excellent time to give him some hints of how to please Felice. “She was fearful, my lord, and at first impression, you are a little daunting. But I’m sure you could assure her…”
His brows rose. “Perhaps I really am daunting, Lady Claire.”
“Oh no, I’m sure that—” Claire broke off, for she was not sure of any such thing. “I’m sure you can’t be as bad as—”That was even worse. His brows were up again, but that predatory humor twitched his lips.
Just like a wolf eyeing a trapped rabbit.
Claire sucked in a breath. “If you can show Felice how kind and gentle you can be, my lord, she will be willing, I’m sure.”
“Kind and gentle.” He raised a hand and rubbed those troubling lips with a knuckle. “I see. But why should I want the Lady Felice as wife?”
“She is very beautiful. Perhaps you couldn’t quite see that in the rain.” Claire dug in her mind. “And gifted at music. She’s also an excellent manager. Very frugal.”
A true smile flickered, and Claire was astonished to feel a tiny flare of regret, a suspicion that there might be something about this man worth discovering.
The smile touched his dark eyes. “Are you reconsidering, Lady Claire?”
“No!” She stamped on the folly.
Despite the smile, he lived his life in midnight shades, stained with blood. He had chosen violence as his life. He was a killer with no interest in arts and beauty. He had come here to seize all her father’s possessions, the most valuable of which he couldn’t appreciate at all.
The smile disappeared. “Lady Felice seems prideful and sharp of tongue. I may be slow to anger, but I will not take insolence.”
“Felice would not be
insolent
exactly. She just… just likes to express her opinions.”
“And you do not?”
Even on short acquaintance, he must know that wasn’t true. “My opinions are more moderate, Lord Renald.”
“Are they, indeed? But if we marry, you would be meek and dutiful?”
Claire didn’t like the direction of the conversation. “
Felice
is much better suited to be your wife, my lord. She’s the oldest, you know.”
“Lady Felice, however, does not want to be my wife. In the few words we exchanged, she was even less flattering than you. I seem to remember something about low birth and manners.”
“She was frightened, my lord, that’s all. We all were. Now she’s had time to think, when she really meets you…”
His brows rose again. “But you have truly met me, demoiselle, and seem desperate to escape.”
Cheeks that showed every touch of embarrassment were a great nuisance. Claire tried pure honesty. “I have a particular feeling about violence, my lord. About men who make violence their life. If I marry, I will choose a man of peace.”
“It’s rather hard to marry a monk.”
“My father was not a monk!”
“Your father was unique,” he said flatly, “and died too young.”
“He would not have died young if—”
“If he’d taken the trouble to train for war?” de Lisle offered, but the look in his eyes told her he knew that wasn’t what she’d been about to say. That he’d have been safe if Henry Beauclerk hadn’t stolen the crown.
Claire turned away from the tormenting man. “Please, my lord, let me at least write to Felice. I’m sure I can persuade her that there are many advantages to being your wife.”
“Why not list them for me? They sound like pleasant hearing.”
She ignored that frivolity, and waited for a reply.
“Very well.”
She turned back to study him warily.
“Write it now.” He indicated the parchment and inks on her desk. “I will have it sent to the camp and your aunt awoken so she can read it.” He moved the tall standard
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