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.
The Hellhound of Wyckmere was enjoying himself.
Clare wanted to dump the contents of the pottage bowl over his head.
"Mayhap we would all enjoy some music," Clare said firmly. She looked at Dalian, who was sulking at
the end of one of the long tables. "Will you give us a cheerful song, Dalian?"
Dalian leaped to his feet and swept her a deep bow. "As my lady commands."
He picked up his harp and began to play a familiar melody. Clare relaxed as she recognized one of her
favorite songs. Dalian had composed it for her shortly after his arrival on Desire. It was called "The Key."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
My lady's smile doth shine
as bright as moon and stars on a summer's night.
Her eyes are emeralds, soft and green,
Her face is as pure as a clear, fresh stream.
Tonight I shall take the key,
The key that she has given to me.
"Aye, aye, the key." Nicholas banged his tankard on the table. "Take the key." He belched.
Clare shuddered.
"Aye, the key." One of Nicholas's burly men, already drunker than his master, rapped his knife against
his tankard. "And what will ye do with the key, lad?"
More tankards clashed as the rest of the men from Seabern called encouragement to Dalian. Clare saw
Nicholas start to grin. He downed another swallow of ale and then reached for his goblet of wine.
'Tis the key to her chamber that she has given me.
She will welcome me there most graciously.
"Graciously, graciously," one of the men chorused with a hoot of laughter.
'Tis unfair that her lord keeps such a treasure hidden.
I shall risk my life to climb through her window this night.
I shall part her bed curtains and behold the fair sight.
Nicholas slammed the table with his fist, rattling cups and dishes. "Aye, lad, on to the lady's bed. Tis
worth the risk." He leered at Clare.
Clare looked helplessly at Joanna, who in turn glanced uneasily at Ulrich. Ulrich gazed impassively at
Gareth, as if waiting for a signal.
Her thighs are alabaster columns, round and smooth.
When I lay between them I shall see
The golden door that awaits my
"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.
The Hellhound of Wyckmere was enjoying himself.
Clare wanted to dump the contents of the pottage bowl over his head.
"Mayhap we would all enjoy some music," Clare said firmly. She looked at Dalian, who was sulking at
the end of one of the long tables. "Will you give us a cheerful song, Dalian?"
Dalian leaped to his feet and swept her a deep bow. "As my lady commands."
He picked up his harp and began to play a familiar melody. Clare relaxed as she recognized one of her
favorite songs. Dalian had composed it for her shortly after his arrival on Desire. It was called "The Key."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
My lady's smile doth shine
as bright as moon and stars on a summer's night.
Her eyes are emeralds, soft and green,
Her face is as pure as a clear, fresh stream.
Tonight I shall take the key,
The key that she has given to me.
"Aye, aye, the key." Nicholas banged his tankard on the table. "Take the key." He belched.
Clare shuddered.
"Aye, the key." One of Nicholas's burly men, already drunker than his master, rapped his knife against
his tankard. "And what will ye do with the key, lad?"
More tankards clashed as the rest of the men from Seabern called encouragement to Dalian. Clare saw
Nicholas start to grin. He downed another swallow of ale and then reached for his goblet of wine.
'Tis the key to her chamber that she has given me.
She will welcome me there most graciously.
"Graciously, graciously," one of the men chorused with a hoot of laughter.
'Tis unfair that her lord keeps such a treasure hidden.
I shall risk my life to climb through her window this night.
I shall part her bed curtains and behold the fair sight.
Nicholas slammed the table with his fist, rattling cups and dishes. "Aye, lad, on to the lady's bed. Tis
worth the risk." He leered at Clare.
Clare looked helplessly at Joanna, who in turn glanced uneasily at Ulrich. Ulrich gazed impassively at
Gareth, as if waiting for a signal.
Her thighs are alabaster columns, round and smooth.
When I lay between them I shall see
The golden door that awaits my
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