Clare had no desire to discover the truth of that statement.

"Welcome, Sir Nicholas," she said coolly. "We were not expecting you."

"Word has reached me that the chase is on." Nicholas smacked his hand into his palm with great relish. "I've always enjoyed the sport to be had from a rousing hunt."

"What hunt?" Clare glared at him. "What are you talking about, sir?"

"I hear that you have finally been cornered and forced to choose a husband. Past time, if you ask me."

"No one did?"

"What's more, I have it on good authority that a suitor for your hand has arrived on Desire." Nicholas chuckled. "I could scarcely let a stranger have the field to himself."

"This is not a hunt, sir, and I am not a helpless hart to be run to earth and captured. I have a choice in the matter."

Nicholas chuckled. "And have you made your choice, madam?"

"Nay, I have not."

"Excellent. Then it is not too late. I shall join the chase."

"I fear the lady jests." Gareth materialized behind Clare. He stood with arrogant ease on the top step, one big hand resting lightly on the hilt of the Window of Hell. "The hunt is over."

"Who are you?" Nicholas demanded.

"Gareth of Wyckmere."

"The one they call the Hellhound." Nicholas grinned. "I have heard of you, sir."

"Have you?"

"Aye, you've got a reputation that would do credit to the devil. So you're here to woo the lady, eh?"

"She finds it amusing to pretend that she has not yet selected a husband. Who can blame her for attempting to prolong the entertaining game of courtship? But in truth the matter has been decided.

I am the only suitor who meets any of her requirements."

"Not necessarily," Clare muttered. She was annoyed by the way the two men towered over her.

Between the two of them they managed to block out the spring sunshine.

She found herself standing in the shade.

Nicholas's eyes narrowed as he took Gareth's measure. "I know well that Lady Clare has certain very specific requirements in a husband. I would not want to see her settle for less than she deserves."

"You need not concern yourself with the matter," Gareth said.

"But I must." Nicholas switched his attention back to Clare. "We have been friends and neighbors for years, is that not right, madam?"

"We have certainly been neighbors for years," Clare said.

"Aye, and because of that close relationship, I feel it is my duty to be certain that any husband of your choosing knows exactly what he is getting in the bargain." Nicholas smirked. "A man should not be surprised on his wedding night."

A deep sense of alarm unfurled within Clare. She sniffed delicately and smelled the heavy, dangerous tension in the air between Gareth and Nicholas.

There had never been violence of any kind on her fair isle. She would not allow it to flare up now.

In that moment Clare knew that she would have to abandon her half-formed plan to turn the situation to her own advantage. She was suddenly faced with another, more pressing problem.

She had to find a way to keep Gareth and Nicholas from each other's throats.

4

Supper proved to be the perilous performance Clare had feared. Seated at the head table between Gareth and Nicholas, she felt as though she were the acrobat she had seen at last year's harvest fair. Surely the effort of balancing oneself on a taut rope strung between two poles could be no more difficult than attempting to maintain peace in a chamber full of quarrelsome knights.

Not that there had been any open conflict as yet. But Clare could feel the anticipation growing in the hall. It was a direct reflection of the hostility that emanated from the two men seated at the head table.

In an effort to lessen the opportunity for small provocations between Gareth's and Nicholas's men, Clare had seen to it that they were seated on the opposite sides of the long trestle tables. She hoped that the short distance that separated the warriors would prove a useful barrier in the event hostilities broke out.

Violence, if it erupted, would start at the head table, she reminded herself. As long as she controlled Gareth and Nicholas, she would control the entire hall.

It was a daunting task.

"Nay, not more vegetables?" Nicholas looked askance at the array of new dishes that had been set down amid the primroses scattered atop the table. "I vow, you eat more greenery here on Desire than do the hares and deer in my forest."

"We are very fond of fresh vegetables, my lord," Clare said with a determinedly cheerful smile. "Mayhap you would prefer the oysters? The cook does them with almonds and ginger. I'm sure you will enjoy them."

Nicholas lowered his lashes and looked at her with a slumberous gaze.

The expression was no doubt intended to stir fires in her loins, but in reality it made him appear as though he were about to fall asleep at the table. "I will enjoy them all the more if you offer them to me with your own tender fingers, my lady."

Clare gritted her teeth around a frozen smile. It was common enough to offer a special guest a particularly tasty morsel, but she had no intention of honoring Nicholas in that fashion. In the first place, she did not think of him as a special guest. He was, in actual fact, a great nuisance. Clare's second consideration was not knowing how Gareth would react if he believed she was favoring Nicholas.

This was what came of trying to select a husband. Life had once been so peaceful and uncomplicated here on Desire, Clare thought.

"I do not believe I care for any oysters myself, sir," Clare said. "But please take as many as you like. And don't forget the pottage. Cook seasons it with fennel and coriander. It's delicious."

"Aye." Nicholas scooped up a handful of oysters and stuffed them into his mouth. "You always set an excellent table, my lady," he said around the oysters. "And your presence is the tastiest dish of all."

"Thank you." Clare gave him a repressive look,-silently beseeching him to behave. If Nicholas read the plea in her eyes, he gave no indication.

Nicholas was rapidly becoming oblivious to a great many things, she reflected. He got that way after a few tankards of ale.

"But as lovely as you are tonight seated here in your own hall,"

Nicholas continued in a drawling, provocative tone, "I believe I prefer the memory of how you looked when you were seated beside me in Seabern Keep less than a month ago." He paused to swallow more oysters in a single gulp. "I thought at the time that you looked as though you belonged there."

Clare felt Gareth stir silently in the chair to her left. She panicked for a second. Her spoon clattered loudly against the edge of a bowl. " 'Twas a pleasant visit, sir and you were a gracious host. But here is where I belong."

"And here is where you will stay," Gareth said very gently.

Clare glanced at him uneasily from the corner of her eye. She did not like the lethal softness of his tone.

It seemed to her that the more Nicholas taunted and provoked, the softer and more polite Gareth's responses became.

Clare was growing increasingly alarmed by Gareth's chilling politeness.

She wondered if she was the only one in the hall who realized just how dangerous it was. It seemed to her that everyone present ought to be able to see the obvious threat.

Nicholas, thickheaded fool that he was, apparently did not. In fact, Clare thought, Gareth's soft speech seemed to be emboldening him.

It dawned on Clare that Gareth was deliberately baiting Nicholas.

Gareth caught Clare's eye as he used his knife to slice a wedge of mixed-meat tart. He did not quite smile?the man never smiled?but there was that in his expression which suggested this was as close to being amused as he could get.