Her face lit up. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course.”
She leapt up and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Garren, I am so happy. Thank you for being so wonderful to me.”
He held her, flashes of the truths he must eventually tell her filling his mind. He’d pushed everything aside in light of recent events, but now with the event of their marriage and life together, he knew that he must tell her the truth of the matter soon. It was not fair to hold anything back from her. He struggled not to be fearful of how she would react, knowing he had basically lied to her.
“We will go anywhere you wish,” he gently sat her back in her chair; the knights in the corner had noticed him and eye contact had been made. He didn’t want Derica between him and any hostilities that might erupt. “Is there somewhere else you might like to visit?”
She was a-gaggle about their potential travel. Most definitely, she wanted to visit Spain and Corsica. Greece was another place she would like to go. Garren lost track of all of the places she had heard of as his study of the two knights intensified.
“But what if we have children right away?” she was saying. “Will we take them with us? Certainly we cannot leave them behind. Do you suppose…?”
Garren didn’t hear her after that. The knights in the corner were shifting; both of them were looking at him. Suspecting something might erupt, Garren took her by the hand and pulled her from the chair.
“Let us eat in our room,” he said. “I do not wish to share you with these ruffians out here.”
“But…,” Derica looked disappointed. “Very well, then. If that is your wish.”
He barely got her to the stairs before the knights were on them. Derica was on the first step when the growling voice came.
“Le Mon.”
Garren was cool. He turned, placing himself between his wife and the knights. The men tossed their cloaks off, revealing the swarthy features of one and the clean shaven features of the other. Garren immediately recognized them, and his heart sank. He knew them both, and not on good terms.
“De Claare,” he wanted them to know that he was not off-guard. “I see you have brought your trained dog with you.”
The swarthier knight snarled in response, but the other, a man with short black hair, smiled thinly.
“Torres is indeed a dog,” he said. “And he bites. Imagine finding you here in the wilds of Northampton. What are you doing so far from Chepstow?”
“Nothing worthy of your notice.”
“Ah, but you are in my territory. My liege is Leicester and you, my friend, are far from the support of Richard’s great Chancellor. I am sure my liege will be very interested to know you are here.”
“Leicester is a traitor. He defiles England with the very air he breathes.”
“A matter of opinion.” De Claare cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me something, le Mon; why would a knight of your reputation and stature fight for a king that has barely set foot on English soil? I do not understand it.”
“That is because you are too stupid to realize the truth.” Compounding his current concerns was the fact that Derica was hearing tantalizing clues to his true self. “Leave peaceably now and you leave with your life, de Claare. I shall not make the offer again.”
De Claare shook his head. “When last we met at that skirmish at Corfe Castle and you forced my men to surrender before the Marshal’s armies, I told you that if I saw you again I would kill you. I meant it.”
Garren smiled humorlessly. “You could not do it then, even when you outnumbered us two to one. What makes you think you can do it now?”
De Claare’s gaze moved to Derica, standing on the steps above her husband. He pointed at her. “Your lady wife, I presume?”
Garren’s sword came out faster than the blink of an eye. “I was merciful on the battlefield at Corfe. Mention the lady again and my mercy is at an end.”
The two knights laughed in sinister fashion. Behind Garren, Derica came down to stand behind her husband. He felt her hand on his shoulder.
“Come with me, now,” she murmured in his ear. “We’ll bolt the door and wait for them to go away. Please, Garren.”
“She is a delightful morsel, le Mon,” de Claare said. “A gift for your faithful service, no doubt.”
Garren knew there would be no getting rid of them until someone’s blood was spilt. “Go back to the room and lock the door, sweetheart,” he told her. “Do not open it for anyone but me, and do not come down here no matter what you hear. Is that clear?”
Derica’s heart filled with terror. She’d been around warring men too long and knew what they were capable of. And she was also smart enough to know that her presence was a distraction in a vocation where distraction could be deadly.