“This is all very interesting,” the king remarked.
“What is?” Nicholas asked, not caring what the king saw between them.
“I have known you for over two decades, and I have never seen you give in so easily to any woman.”
Nicholas smiled, looking at her. “She steals more of my heart each day. Imagine what I will do to the man who tries to take her from me?”
Her face went completely flush. He wondered if he should say these kinds of things just to keep the king away from her. What if she thought he meant them? Did he? Was she stealing his heart? Was it getting worse every day? Aye. Every day, he felt more protective of her, grew more impatient to see her, to be with her. The king was correct, Nicholas gave in to her every whim. He wanted to bury his head in his hands. How had he let this happen?
He looked at her. Aye, she was the kind of beautiful that wrenched at his guts. She was tall and elegant in an oddly awkward sort of way. When she looked at him, his heart rumbled with longing to make her his. When she spoke—ah, that was where she made him weakest. Her words, half of which he couldn’t understand, the way she laughed, and made him laugh, all worked at capturing his heart.
“You steal more of mine each day, as well,” she told him. “Imagine what I will do to any man who tries to take me from you.”
Nicholas inhaled as if he were breathing her alone, and she was enough. He smiled on her fully. She was different. She was from a different time.
“I heard from Reg that you are quite bold,” Richard said, watching her.
Nicholas turned his deadly glare on his cousin. That’s it. He wanted Reg out today.
“But now, I have seen it for myself,” the king continued. “What kind of hall do you come from that allows its women to behave so?”
Nicholas’ belly knotted and his mouth went dry. Richard suspected something. But what? It didn’t matter. That he suspected anything at all wasn’t favorable.
Nicholas had to get her out of there.
“My father’s hall is quite humble, Sire.” Kestrel turned her smile on Richard. “As is our cottage. I was raised by my father. He was a great man because he never taught me that I was less than he was.” When Richard continued to look displeased, she continued. “He lived in Wales for twelve years before he met my mother—”
“Ah, Wales!” Richard declared with a burst of laughter. “That explains it! The Welsh have odd mannerisms. Your father obviously taught them to you.”
“Obviously.”
“The fault is not your own,” the king allowed.
“What a relief,” she replied then set her gaze on Nicholas. “May we go for a walk, or even a ride?”
The king balked. “But you haven’t eaten!”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You will need a chaperone.”
Nicholas turned his flinty gaze on him. “Elia will come with us. Come,” he said to both women and stepped around the table. “Excuse us, Sire,” Elia said and hooked Kestrel’s arm in hers. They stood up and followed Nicholas out of the great hall.
“My heart is racing,” Kestrel told them. “We just walked out on the King of England.”
Nicholas glanced over his shoulder. “We are going to have to get more drastic.”
“More drastic?”
“Aye. We may have to wed to turn his attention completely away.”
“You’re joking.”
“I believe he is being quite sincere,” Elia told her, leaning in to whisper.
Kestrel shook her head. “I won’t marry you to be safe from the king. I would marry you because I love you. And only then.”
If she loved him. Why did the mere thought of it make his muscles shake to have her close?