Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

H e made her wear the red dress.

Roi only had one request for their wedding day, and it was that she wear the red dress, the dress she'd worn at their first real introduction. It was such an exquisite garment in that deep ruby color, the color that symbolized love, and as she stood in front of the chapel of Lioncross Abbey as the priest from the village intoned the mass over her and Roi, she looked like a goddess.

Roi couldn't take his eyes off her.

The day had started at sunrise when Dustin and her daughters arrived to help prepare Diara for the day. Adalia and Dorian, along with Iris and a few of the younger girls, had also come to help because Dustin felt it was important that they all participate in such a major family event. Diara had been asleep when they had entered her chamber, and, quite literally, she had been pulled from her bed. Dustin ran a tight ship, and she had both the servants and her daughters jumping.

It was a big day.

A large copper tub had been brought into the room and filled with hot water and oils that smelled of flowers. Diara had been stripped of her night shift and plunged into the tub, where Dustin and the ladies proceeded to scrub her within an inch of her life. Her skin was washed with hard white soap, and her hair was washed with a solution of vinegar and flat ale. Diara had to grip the sides of the tub to keep from being toppled over as her new family enthusiastically scrubbed her.

Eventually, however, the scrubbing ceased and she was rinsed and rinsed again before being instructed to climb out of the tub. An enormous towel was waiting for her, and the buffeting she took from Dustin as the woman was drying her off was far worse than the scrubbing that had taken place in the tub. In fact, Dara found herself giggling through the entire thing because she was being pummeled in the nicest sort of way.

Then came the combing and the anointing of oils. Iris, still not entirely well from her illness, was put in charge of combing out Diara's hair while Dustin and Rebecca and Dorian were charged with rubbing oil into her skin to soften it. Diara simply sat there while several pairs of hands went to work on her from head to toe, even rubbing oil into her feet.

As she told Dustin, she felt like the Queen of Sheba.

Dustin had grinned at the comment.

But Diara suspected that some of this was to make up for what had happened the day before. Not that she minded, because she didn't. In truth, she was incredibly touched by all of the fuss they made. It had made her feel very special, a worthy bride for their precious son.

As Christin prepared the red dress while everyone else focused on the bride, servants were brought in to fan Diara's hair so it would sufficiently dry. With Iris combing and the servants fanning, her hair dried quickly enough, and Dustin used a hot iron, set in the fire, to tame the natural curl that she had. Her hair was pulled back, pinned back, and a garland of flowers was put on her head with a silken veil that Diara had brought from Cicadia. It had belonged to her mother, and Ananda had worn it on her wedding day. With everything set in place, the ladies escorted Diara out to the chapel, where Roi, the family, and several guests were waiting.

The moment was upon them.

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."

Christopher grinned. "I used to take my sons fishing," he said. "We would go to the River Arrow, which is not far from here. I can still see five young boys all lined up along the bank and Westley screaming because he cannot catch any fish."

Robin's expression flickered, suggestive of a man who was highly jealous over the fact that he had no sons to speak of. "Mayhap it taught him patience in the end," he said without enthusiasm. "I would not know about young boys. I only had a daughter, and she was raised by women."

"And she is a fine young woman," Christopher said. "We all like her very much."

Robin's lips twitched with a grateful, though insincere, smile. "Good," he said. "Though I am sorry for Beckett, I am grateful for Roi. He and I were great friends when we fought together in France."

Christopher nodded. "I know," he said. "He told me that you command a fine army."

Robin shrugged. "I hope so," he said. "They are well paid. I pay men to train them well. But I am still wholly grateful for the de Lohr alliance. I have been having some trouble, you know."

It was the perfect lead-in to a subject Robin had intended to bring up all night. As he hoped, Christopher seemed interested in discussing it.

"Where?" he asked.

"South," Robin said. "From Cirencester."

Christopher frowned. "Fairford?"

"The same."

"What trouble?"

Robin sighed sharply, an act that conveyed great displeasure. "You know how the man has made his money," he said. "He and his family. They are bred from pirates and thieves, so they tend to steal and raid. Riggs Fairford is no different from his ancestors. The king tolerates him because he pays a great deal in taxes, so he'll do nothing about him."

"Is he becoming that much of a problem?"

Robin nodded. "A little," he said. "Though his activity comes and goes. Mayhap the next time he raids my border, a little show of force from my daughter's new husband might discourage them from more action."

Christopher pondered that. "Possibly," he said. "I do not know much about Fairford. I've never had any real contact with him."

"A viper," Robin said with mock disgust. "As I said… I am glad for our strong alliance, my lord. I am glad for Roi."

Christopher believed him. Robin had to refrain from patting himself on the back because Christopher seemed very much in agreement and understanding.

That would make what he had to do just a little bit easier.

And a little more believable.

The time would soon come.

*

"My father and your father seemed to be having a pleasant conversation," Diara said. "My father is in a surprisingly good mood."

Roi had just broken away from the group of drunken singers posing as his brothers and nephews. He had returned to the dais and claimed his seat next to the bride, taking her hand as he collected a chalice of what he thought was wine. What he discovered was that it was very watery wine. He took two big gulps before holding up the cup and looking at it strangely.

"What is this?" he asked.

Diara grinned. "I had the servants bring watered wine," she said. "I thought it might slake your thirst better. Did I do wrong?"

He looked at her, trying to scowl, but he kept breaking out in a grin. "You did not do this to slake my thirst," he accused lightly. "You think I am becoming too drunk."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "How dare you say such things," she said, pretending to be indignant. "I did not. And I do not want you drunk when we retire for the evening."

He broke out in laughter, pulling her against him and kissing her on the cheek. "You devious cat," he said. "I should have watched my cup. And I will never be too drunk, I promise. Don't you believe me?"

"Should I?"

"You should," he insisted. "I would never lie to you, angel. You do believe that, don't you?"

She smiled at him, stroking his cheek. "Of course I do," she said. "There is no question."

He smiled in return, kissing her on the cheek again. "Then may I please have wine with no water in it?"

She laughed softly and nodded, and he released her long enough to summon a servant and procure a big cup of rich red wine. He took a big swallow, eyeing his father and Robin across the table, huddled in conversation.

"And as for our fathers," he said, "it looks much better between them than it did the last time I saw them together. I am pleased that your father is behaving himself."

Diara couldn't disagree. "As am I," she said, looking around the table and noting Roi's daughters directly across from them. They were sitting next to Iris, seemingly playing a game with her using pieces of bread on the tabletop. "I do not know if you realize this, but I've never had a conversation with Adalia. She seems to have been busy with her cousins during her stay here. Is she a shy lass?"

Roi looked over at his two living children. "Verily," he said. "That is why she likes to spend her time minding the children. She is very good with them, but she has always been quite shy with people she does not know. Coming to know her will take a little longer than it will with Dorian, who seems to love you already. But when I look at them, sitting there like that… it's a little strange for me."

"Why?"

"Because they look so much like Odette."

Diara looked at him. "Then she must have been very pretty," she said. She hesitated briefly before continuing. "What was she like?"

He met her gaze. "She was quiet and obedient," he said. "She had some of Adalia's shyness. Truthfully, she was a gentle creature. I never heard her raise her voice or become angry. And she was devoted to the children."

"Then she was a good wife," Diara said. "Is it difficult for you to speak of her?"

He shook his head. "It used to be," he said. "Not any longer. That part of my life is in the past, and I am looking forward to the future."

He meant with her, and she smiled at him. "As am I," she said. "Mayhap it isn't the best place to ask about Odette, but you have never spoken of her, and Beckett did not tell me much, either. But he did say that she died in childbirth."

"She did," Roi said. "With Dorian. And I haven't spoken of her because it is painful. It is simply because there hasn't been any opportunity to do so. We are only coming to know one another, and I did not want to bring my dead wife into the conversation. It did not seem right."

Diara understood. "And here I am, asking about her on our wedding day," she said, giggling when he grinned. "Mayhap not the most appropriate conversation, but in a sense, it is. I think that she would want you to be happy, wouldn't she? And I see no issue with keeping her spirit alive, especially for your daughters."

He leaned over and kissed her again. "A very wise and sensible view," he said. "I am coming very much to appreciate that about you, angel. To be so generous to the woman who preceded you is wise and magnanimous, indeed."

Her eyes glimmered. "As long as you do not compare me to her, I will embrace her memory because she is part of you and part of your children," she said. "But I imagine it might be difficult, in the beginning, for you not to compare us. She is the only other wife you have had. Unless there are others I do not know of."

Her message was serious, but she said it in such a way that he did not take offense. He wouldn't have, anyway, because he completely understood what she was saying.

"There are no other wives, unless I was drunk at the time and do not recall," he said, jesting. But he quickly sobered. "I will tell you this now so there is no doubt—I would never compare you to Odette. The two of you are a world apart. She was gentle and quiet, and you are vivacious and have fire in your spirit. My mother even commented on it, and I told her that I loved that about you. I think Odette would laugh at me because I've found a woman whose determination and spirit can match my own."

Diara pinched his chin gently. "And that is a good thing, is it not?" she said. "But why would she laugh?"

He snorted. "Because she knows that, deep down, I fear a woman who is stronger than I am," he said. "She knows I will acquiesce to you in all things. But know that it does not concern me at all. I welcome it."

He swooped in to kiss her again, but someone was tugging on his sleeve, and he looked over his shoulder to see Dorian and Adalia standing next to him.

"Papa?" Dorian said, rubbing her eyes. "I'm sleepy. Grandmother told me to ask permission to go to bed."

It was getting late. Roi shifted his chair, turning in the direction of his daughters, and Dorian slipped past him, straight into Diara's lap. Though there were only six years between them, Dorian clearly felt comfortable with Diara as either a mother figure or an older sister figure. Sitting on Diara's lap, she put her arms around the woman and laid her head on her shoulder.

It was something that touched Roi deeply.

"If you want to go to sleep, you cannot sleep on Diara," he said, watching Dorian grin. "But I agree with you. I like her, too."

Dorian smiled up at Diara, who put her hand on the child's head in a motherly fashion. Meanwhile, Roi turned to Adalia, his eldest daughter who looked very much like Odette. She was petite, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a fragile-looking face. Roi reached out and took her hand.

"And you, my lady?" he said. "Are you sleepy, too?"

Adalia nodded, but she kept turning her attention to the room, now stuffed with soldiers and knights as the wedding celebration continued. Then she looked down the table to where Christopher and Robin were seated, and beyond them sat a couple of men she didn't recognize.

"Aye," she said in a squeaky voice. "A little. But I was wondering something."

"What?"

She discreetly pointed down the table. "Who are those men on the other side of Taid?" she said, referring to Christopher using the Welsh name for grandfather that the de Lohr children sometimes used. "Are they knights?"

Both Roi and Diara looked down the table. It was Diara who spoke. "Those are my father's knights," she said, returning her attention to Adalia. "They have served Cheltenham for many years."

Adalia nodded, but it was clear that she was shy when it came to Diara. Everything Roi had said about her was becoming obvious.

"Oh," she said timidly.

It seemed that the conversation was ending right there because she couldn't bring herself to ask more questions. But then she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Diara noticed that Roi was trying not to smile.

"I do not know," he told her. "I do not know the man."

Adalia whispered again into his ear. Roi listened before shrugging.

"You will have to ask Diara," he said. "She would know."

Both Roi and Adalia looked at Diara, but Adalia was looking at her with genuine fear. Seeing that the young woman evidently had a question, Diara smiled at her.

"What may I tell you, Adalia?" she said. "I am happy to tell you what I know."

Adalia flushed a deep shade of red and looked at her feet. Roi took pity on her.

"She wants to know who the handsome knight is at the end of the table," he said. "She further wants to know if he is married."

"Papa!" Adalia said, mortified. "You should not have said that!"

Roi laughed softly. "Lass, if you want to know the answer to something, you must ask the question," he said. When Diara looked at him curiously, he gestured down the table. "She is speaking of Mathis. Is he married?"

Diara shook her head. "He is not," she said. "Would you like me to introduce you?"

That nearly sent Adalia bolting from the table. Roi grabbed her before she could get away, but she was so embarrassed that she was starting to cry. As Roi pulled her back to the table, Diara reached out and grasped the young woman's sweaty palm.

"I am sorry you are embarrassed," she said gently. "You needn't be, I promise. Your secret is safe with me. I will not say a word to him if you do not want me to. Does that make you feel better?"

Roi had his big arm around Adalia as she sniffled and wiped her eyes, but after a moment, she nodded shortly. Just once. But it was enough.

"Good," Diara said. "Would you like me to tell you what I know about him? Mayhap that would help. I do not want you to be sad or embarrassed. His name is Mathis de Geld and he has seen twenty years and nine. He comes from an old family, and they have a castle in the north that is said to have housed the kings of Northumbria, back in the olden times when England was several different countries. He is an excellent knight, he likes to train horses, and I know that he likes sweets. Whenever the cook at Cicadia makes sweet cakes with honey and oats, he eats most of them before I can get any. As you can imagine, that makes me very angry."

Adalia's tears were fading and she was becoming interested in what Diara was telling her. She dared to look up, at the very knight Diara was telling her about, and didn't seem quite so mortified.

"I was taught to manage the kitchens when I fostered," she said in her small voice. "The cook was from France, and she taught me many wonderful things. I can make sweets."

That was the most Diara had heard from her since she'd met the girl. "That sounds marvelous," she said, trying to keep the conversation going. "What do you like best? Sweets, I mean."

Adalia thought on that question. "I like the cakes with apricots and honey," she said. "I can make little cakes with apples and cinnamon inside."

Diara smiled encouragingly. "Then, much like your sister, you are very clever," she said. "This is just a thought, of course, but if you would like to make some of those cakes—if your grandmother will permit you to use her cook and kitchen—Mathis is not returning home for a day or two. Time for you to make the cakes and for me to take them to him and not tell him who made them. Only that an admirer has sent them. That way, you do not have to face him at all, but you can still show your appreciation."

It was a sweet little plan and one that had Adalia's attention. She wouldn't have to meet or see Mathis, yet she could send her regards via baked goods. She looked at her father, who nodded in wholehearted agreement with the plan.

"I think that is a brilliant scheme," he told her. "But you are of age now, Adalia. I should be seeking you a husband, but you never seemed very interested. If you'd like to make great bunches of treats, I'll send them out to every eligible knight in England. You'll have your pick of men rushing to Pembridge, lured by your cooking talents."

Adalia's cheeks turned a deep red, but this time, she smiled. She wasn't crying or embarrassed because her father, whom she didn't have much of a relationship with, seemed to be interested in her and in her future. That bolstered her bravery. Truthfully, they'd never really spoken of such things, and although it made her uncomfortable, it also interested her.

It was something they could both relate to.

"You jest, Papa," she said. "Food will not lure a husband to my doorstep."

He lifted his eyebrows. "You think not?" he said, incredulous. "Your mother lured me with a meat pie. I would wager to say that half of the men in this hall, if they are married, were ensnared into marriage with something delicious to eat."

"It is as good a talent to display as any," Diara agreed. "It is something a man enjoys. All men eat, so why not show him how fat and content he will be once he marries you?"

Roi continued to nod, squeezing Adalia's hand when she looked at him. "I think it is an excellent idea," he said. "Now, you must take Dorian to bed, and I will see you both on the morrow. We will discuss this plan more in depth. Would you like that?"

Adalia nodded. "I would, Papa," she said. "Thank you."

"It wasn't my idea."

He tilted her head in Diara's direction, and Adalia took the hint. She focused on Diara, smiling timidly at her for the very first time.

"Thank you," she said. "You have been most kind."

Diara grinned at her very shy, very timid stepdaughter. "It was my pleasure," she said. "I hope to help you with many such things in the future, if I can."

Adalia continued to smile, somewhat bashfully, as she took Dorian away from Diara and led her off the dais by the hand. Roi and Diara watched the girls disappear into a servants' alcove, which opened up on a direct path to the keep. When they were gone, Roi turned to his new wife.

"Thank you for that," he said quietly. "She's such a timid creature, but she's a good girl. Relationships aren't easy for her. This is the first time she didn't outright weep when discussing a man or a betrothal. And she did not mention joining the cloister again, so this is an improvement for Adalia."

Diara reached for her cup of wine, which was nearly drained. "Then if she is truly agreeable to finding a husband, that just made your life a little more hectic," she said. "You'll be sorting through marital offers for her from now until she marries."

"Her?" Roi said. Then he shrugged. "She's a beautiful girl, but she's not a spirited creature. You saw her. She will be difficult for a man to woo."

"Mayhap not," Diara said. "With instruction from your mother and sisters, I am certain she will know how to behave."

He looked at her. "Why them?" he said. "You are now her mother, and you are the most charming and witty woman I have ever met. Why can you not teach her?"

"Because I do not know her well," Diara said. "She might learn better from someone she knows, not a woman she hardly knows who has happened to marry her father."

He took her hand, kissing it. "You are the perfect teacher," he said. "Thank you for being so kind to my daughters. As I said, I've not been around them much… I should like to change that. With Dorian, I think I distanced myself because her mother died giving birth to her. Mayhap I blamed her a little, though I know it was not her fault. It was safer to distance myself and not feel grief every time I looked at her."

Diara reached up and gently stroked his hair. "That is completely understandable," she said. "Odette passed away and suddenly, you have two girl children to parent by yourself. Moreover, you said yourself that they went away to foster young. It seems that you've hardly been around them during their lifetime."

"I know," he said, subdued. "I have been fighting wars all my life. I've been in London with Henry or on the battlefields in the name of the king. I am a dedicated man with an excellent reputation, and it was simply easier to let someone else tend to my children. Even Beckett—I did not see him as much as I would have liked to, but he was my son and I naturally related better to him. I understood him. I never wanted to admit that my daughters have suffered my absence, but the truth is that they have. Even though they've been home for a couple of years, it is not as if I spend a good deal of time with them. Mostly, my mother does when she can."

"Do you want to spend time with them?"

"I would like to know them better."

"Then I will help you," Diara said. "I would like to come to know them too. We can do it together."

He smiled at her, thinking that sounded quite wonderful. He hadn't had a wife in so many years that he'd forgotten what it was like to have one. Someone who was part of him as he was part of her, someone to bring his troubles to or have a simple conversation with. Someone to be a family with.

Aye, he loved that idea with Diara.

He never thought he'd experience that again.

"I think I would like that," he said. Then he made a big show of yawning. "But I think that I am weary, too. Shall we retire for the night?"

Diara knew what that meant, and her heart began to race. She was excited, she was apprehensive, and everything in between. She nodded, smiling, which masked the quivering that had suddenly taken over her entire body. Roi leaned over and muttered something to his brother, Curtis, who was sitting on his other side. Curtis simply nodded, and Roi stood up, extending a hand to Diara.

"Come with me," he said. "And hurry. No farewells."

Diara put her hand in his but looked at him with puzzlement. "Why not?" she asked. "My parents are just down the table. And Iris is sitting across from us, looking at me."

Roi leaned down and lowered his voice. "Because the moment my brothers and nephews realize we are retreating to our marital chamber, they will try to follow us. It will turn into a battle, so come with me and come quickly."

Diara did. She bolted up from the chair and let him take her from the dais and behind a screened area that the servants used. Once they were there, they were out of the field of vision of nearly everyone in the great hall, and Roi took her quickly to a small door that led outside.

It was misting outside, with the clouds hanging low, and they ran nearly the entire way across the bailey with Roi helping her hold up the hem of her skirt so it wouldn't get muddy. They made an odd pair, running through the muddy bailey, but moving quickly saved her dress from becoming too wet and too dirty. In fact, the only things that were dirty on her person were her slippers, and that couldn't be helped. Once inside the keep, they quickly proceeded up the stairs to Roi's chamber on the family level.

The chamber was dark except for a banked fire in the hearth, and Roi left Diara standing by the door as he went to stoke the fire for a little more light. When the blaze began to perk up, he took a small straw of kindling, lit it, and went over to a bank of candles against the wall.

One by one, he lit the fat, yellowed tapers, before moving to another bank of candles and doing the same thing. Soon, the entire chamber was aglow, and Diara came away from the door, seeing that Roi's bed looked like something rich and luxurious. It was covered with silk drapes and silk pillows and a coverlet stuffed with feathers, and lying on the corner of it was a garment of some kind.

She held it up in the light.

"A robe," she said, fingering the elaborately embroidered fabric. "This is beautiful. Is it yours?"

He chuckled. "Does that look like it would fit me?"

She held out the sleeves before shaking her head. "You might be able to get one arm into the main part of it," she said. "But the sleeves would not fit you."

"Nay, they would not."

"Is it for me?"

Roi nodded faintly. "It is from my mother and father," he said. "While I went to Cheltenham to retrieve you, she went to Hereford and had this made. It's silk with rabbit lining."

Diara laid it back on the bed. It was pink, that color she positively detested, with a white fur lining. Truthfully, it was exquisite. It would have been magnificent had she not hated pink so, but she turned to Roi with her eyes alight.

"It's positively beautiful," she said. "Your mother was so kind to give this to me."

"I'm glad you like it."

She nodded, her smile fading as she looked at him seriously. "It's strange, truly," she said. "I have spent the vast majority of my life alone. I've never had many friends, as you know, and in my family, I am the only child. In the past few days, I've come to know this massive family you have, and it has given me a sense of belonging I've never experienced before. It's a crowded sensation, but a lovely one."

He went to her, taking the robe from her. "I hope it will become something you are always comfortable with and grow to appreciate," he said, holding up the robe. "Would you like to try this on?"

Still in her red silk dress, she put her arms through the sleeves, which were big and belled. It was a delightful garment, and she turned to him with a grin, prompting him to wrap her up in his arms and hug her tightly. Their first true embrace as man and wife. It would have been an incredibly enticing moment except for one thing.

They began to hear singing.

Puzzled, they looked at one another to make sure they weren't hearing things. Clearly, Diara heard it, and so did Roi. They weren't hallucinating. Roi leaned toward the chamber door, but it didn't seem to be coming from there. Diara was already moving to the window, and he came up beside her in time to see several men gathered three stories below in the dark, misty bailey.

And they were singing.

There was a farmer and a whore,

A woman who demanded more!

Plow my field, she begged,

Plant your seed and do it again,

And the farmer used his plow on the sow!

They broke down into uproarious laughter at the lewd song, lifting their cups of wine to the married couple over their heads. As Roi waved his hands at them in an attempt to force them to stop, they launched into the second verse.

Aye, the farmer had a plow,

A plow that could topple a cow.

He used the whore, she cried for more,

But his wife came back from the store.

Now the farmer is nevermore, nevermore!

They were shouting more than singing by that point, howling at the bawdy song. Diara covered her mouth so they wouldn't see her grin as Roi, biting off laughter, continued to wave his hands at the group.

"Get out of here, you fools," he demanded. "Take your filthy plows elsewhere!"

They roared with laughter. Roi could see that the group was comprised of Douglas and Westley, Gallus, Tiberius, Maximus, and Andrew. There were also several de Lohr soldiers trailing after them from the great hall, who were now shouting up at the window.

"Take her by the hair and tie her to the bed, m'lord!" someone cried. "Women like it when you tie them up!"

Roi smirked, shaking his head at the group, turning to Diara and mouthing, Nay, they do not . She burst out laughing as Roi shouted down to the group again.

"If I have to leave this chamber to come down there to disperse the group, you will not be pleased," he warned. "It would be safer if you simply go back into the hall and stay there."

"Give her the flesh sword, Roi!"

That one came from Westley, who was quite drunk. But the entire group took up cries of "sheathe the flesh sword, sheathe the flesh sword!" and Roi slapped a hand over his face in disbelief while Diara giggled uncontrollably. At that point, Roi had had enough, and he shook a fist at the group below.

"Go away ," he said. "That is not a request!"

As he reached for Diara to pull her inside, the group shouted up one last batch of encouragement.

"Demand the prick, Lady de Lohr!"

"Poke her, Roi!"

"Bury the matrimonial sword!"

That brought laughter from both Roi and Diara as he pulled his new wife into the chamber and dropped the oil cloth over the window opening. Diara was laughing so hard that she was wiping tears from her eyes, but just as she was calming down, she looked at Roi and started laughing all over again because he was smirking. He was terribly embarrassed. He opened his mouth to say something, but a faint shout caught his attention.

"Roi!" It was Douglas. "Shall I come up and give you some instructions? Shall I show you how it is done, brother?"

They could hear the laughter outside, and Roi rolled his eyes. "God's Bones," he muttered. "That group is enough to drive any man insane with rage. I am sorry, angel. They mean well."

Diara was still smiling. "They do it because they love you," she said. "I've seen enough mean-spirited men to know that they were not being malicious. They are simply happy."

Roi shrugged. "I suppose," he said, moving to the bed and sitting heavily. He puffed out his cheeks. "I did not realize how exhausted I was until this moment. It has been an eventful day."

She stood about a foot away, smiling at him. "Too exhausted?" she said. "Then mayhap you should go to sleep and we will continue this in the morning."

He looked at her for a moment before whipping out an arm and pulling her against him. "There is not a chance that will happen," he muttered, his face in her neck. "You and I have business to attend to."

Diara was quickly succumbing to his heated breath on her skin, his powerful body wrapping itself around her. "Business, is it?" she asked breathlessly. "What business could we possibly have?"

His lips were on her shoulder, but he couldn't help from smiling. "You are about to find out."

It didn't matter that Diara had never really been in an intimate position like this. It didn't matter that she'd never gone beyond the kiss she and Roi had shared in the solar. Her mind might be na?ve, but her body wasn't. It was responding, innately, to what it had been born and bred to do—respond to a man's touch. Everything about her was on fire as Roi kissed her, and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

"Show me," she whispered.

Roi didn't need any further prompting. Her request had him on fire, and he cupped her face in his two enormous hands, bringing her mouth to his. When his lips claimed hers, it was hungrily, as if he had never kissed a woman before until this moment. He'd been married before. He'd had women before. But not like this—never like this. It was as if Diara was the only one. As his tongue began to lick her, begging for welcome into her warm, delicious mouth, his hands moved from her face and went to work on her clothing.

The red dress came off, seemingly dissolving in his hands, and he had no idea why. He didn't think he'd pulled that hard on it, but he evidently didn't know his own strength. The entire thing began to fall away, and it took him a moment to realize that it was because Diara was helping him.

Inch by inch, the dress slid off her body and onto the floor.

Beneath that, she wore a shift, which came off as well, and in the dim light of a dozen glowing tapers, Roi found himself gazing at his wife's perfect, nude body. He couldn't remember ever seeing anything so completely arousing, but as he moved to pull her against him, he realized he was still wearing his clothing, and, almost frantically, it began to come off.

The tunic went over his head, and he tossed it to the ground before untying his breeches. He had to let her go in order to pull those off, and they ended up on the floor alongside the tunic. In all his naked glory, Roi returned his attention to Diara only to see that she was sitting on the bed trying to cover her chest with her arms. She seemed embarrassed, and probably cold, and he felt remorse that he hadn't shown more consideration. This was her first experience with a man, after all, and even though she was a strong and brave woman, she couldn't pretend that she was completely comfortable. Rather than try to move her arms, he simply pulled her into a tight embrace and covered her with his big body.

Together, they fell back on the bed.

He literally could not wait to get the woman on her back. It had been years since he'd bedded his wife, and he hadn't had a woman since she passed away, so his arousal was instantly quite stiff. Even his testicles were inflamed and swollen, as tight as an archer's bow, so he eased Diara down onto the bed and genuinely tried to control himself. He didn't want to act like a rutting bull, as if joining his body with her was all he cared about. There was so much more to it than that. But she was compliant, and his tender kisses told her without word how beautiful and desirable she was. Her arms went around his neck, her full and naked breasts against his broad chest. Roi could feel them, soft and round, and it was about all he could take.

He hungered for her in the worst, and best, possible way.

After he laid her against the bed, his hands began to wander. His right hand found her beautiful breasts, and he listened to her sigh with both surprise and pleasure when his palm closed around one. She stiffened a little, unfamiliar with the sensation, but he caressed her breast gently, toying with her nipples, until she began to relax again. He hoped she was enjoying it from the soft gasping she was emitting, but those sounds were driving him mad with lust.

His roving hands moved lower.

Every moment of exploration was better than the one before. Her skin was like silk beneath hands that had killed men, and he almost felt guilty for touching such virgin skin with those bloodstained appendages. But those same hands were as gentle as a kitten, and he worshiped every inch, every curve. He knew that he was unworthy of this beautiful creature, but he was willing to spend the rest of his life paying homage to her.

She smelled of flowers, pure and sweet, uninhibited and intoxicating. His hand moved down her torso and to her right thigh, grasping her behind the knee and pulling her legs apart so he could settle his big body between her legs. He began to drag his lips over her neck, tasting her beauty, feeling the warmth of her flesh against his tongue, but that only served to inflame his hunger.

Unable to hold off any longer, Roi rubbed his arousal against the pink flower between her legs, coaxing forth her warm wetness that would prepare her body for his entry. He could feel her wet heat, so he drew back and thrust into her, firmly but slowly, pushing his way into her body and taking possession of a woman who aroused him like no one else ever had. He could feel her tight heat around him, those honeyed walls that would give him life's greatest pleasure. His future son, if he had one, would be born here. It was a silken sheath meant only for him, and much as his brother had said, he was sheathing the matrimonial sword. When he thought of that, it brought a grin, but not laughter.

This was no laughing matter.

He was in heaven.

He drew back again, thrusting harder, making headway into her tight and virginal body. Beneath him, Diara groaned at the sting of possession, a sound somewhere between pleasure and pain. Roi took it as pleasure and thrust again, harder, listening to her gasp as he seated himself fully. Like her woman's center unfurling for him, her legs seemed to unfurl as well, opening wider to accommodate his enormous size. His hands slipped underneath her, holding her buttocks to him as he began to move.

Roi thrust hard, again and again, as Diara lay beneath him and softly moaned. Her hands touched him, timidly at first but with increasing confidence. The sensation was overwhelming to him, and he tried to ignore it, just a little, because he knew that if he gave in, all of this would be over well before he wanted it to be. So he focused on the feel of her in his hands, the feel of his body in hers, until her soft hands moved to his hips. When she dug in and he felt her nails prick him, his self-control ended. He spilled himself deep into her virginal womb, feeling every spasm, every twitch, down to his very bones.

Still, he continued to move. He was still hard. His thrusts grew gentler, longer, as he reached down to touch her where their bodies joined. It was enough to throw Diara over the edge, and her first climax washed over her. Her entire body stiffened, her back arched, and he held her tightly, suckling at her breasts, as a powerful release pulsed through her.

It was the most passionate thing he'd ever experienced.

Eventually, the squirming stopped. The thrusting stopped. Diara lay pinned beneath Roi's body, her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his hips. They simply lay there, the only sound being their heavy breathing. What they'd experienced together was everything Roi had imagined and everything Diara had hoped for. It was a coupling that drew them closer together, bonding them.

Filling them.

They had become one.