My Lady's Choice. Lyn Stone

mind on that score, Richard. Your Nan will have me, as well.”

      That earned her a wary look of hope. He did not quite believe her, but she could see that he wanted to. That was progress.

      Sara determined then and there that no matter what his children were like, she would make them as welcome as if she had birthed them herself.

      She patted his arm fondly and let go of him. “Now, finish your meal and go above for a rest. We must get you completely well before Christopher and Nan arrive. Nothing troubles a child more than seeing the father less than hardy. I speak as one who knows.”

      He rose and accompanied her toward the entrance. It felt almost natural now, this walking side by side in step, her arm looped through his. Progress, indeed. Yesterday, he would have stalked away and left her standing there.

      “Your father was often ill?” he asked, his voice almost conversational, as though they truly were companions and he cared about her answer.

      “Healthy, for the most part, but I have seen him wounded a few times. Father was never the most cautious of men.” She remembered well her feelings whenever she had seen her sire bedridden. “As a girl, I much feared he would die and leave me.”

      “And so he did,” Richard reminded her. She heard the sympathy in his voice, even though he tried to sound blunt. The man had a good heart, but worked so devilish hard to hide it from her.

      She frowned up at him. “Aye, he died. But I was no longer a girl when it happened. Though one is never prepared to lose a father, I was able to keep things going much as he would have done.”

      He pursed his lips and nodded. “Until you found you must marry.” As they climbed the steps, he asked, “Those two suitors of yours cannot be the only bids for your hand in all these years. Why did you wait so long? Most women are wed, or at least betrothed, at half your age.”

      Sara pulled open the door, not waiting for him to do her the courtesy. “I grew old awaiting the right man,” she said brightly. “And, lo, I have found you.”

      She grinned up at his dark expression and fiercely in-drawn breath. Good Lord, why did she feel so obliged to bait him? Must be because he always reacted so obligingly, she thought.

      Her wicked teasing would one day be the death of her, but somehow she could not resist. “You are entirely too grave, Richard,” she admonished playfully. “I did but jest.”

      “I failed to find humor in it.”

      “Well, I guessed that right away. What must we do to make you laugh, I wonder?” She sidled away from him and then turned toward the kitchens.

      His eyes remained on her back until she was out of sight. She could feel the heat of his glare. It warmed more than her heart, she thought with a secret smile.

      Richard watched Sara’s hips sway as she left him standing in the hall. She did that apurpose, he knew.

      With those long legs and slender curves, the woman had to work at that enticing, follow-me saunter. She usually moved with a firm and purposeful stride. She continued to taunt him, now without any words.

      Despite knowing that, he was still watching when the hall door burst open just behind him.

      A breathless lad he’d met earlier gasped, “Milord…banners. Royal. Quarter league distant. A herald rides hard for the gates.”

      King Edward. Richard groaned beneath his breath. He was not looking forward to this.

      Chapter Five

      Richard reached for the boy’s shoulder and gave him a gentle push toward the kitchens. “Go and inform my lady the king’s almost here. She must join me in the bailey to greet him.”

      Richard had barely made the bottom step before Sara caught up and passed him in a flurry of skirts. No foolish prancing now, he thought, hiding a grin. She ran like a courier with news of attack.

      He calmly observed her sending everyone about her into a state of panic.

      Several moments later, he saw that he’d been mistaken. Every soul left in the courtyard had been given a specific task to perform and each was about it.

      By the time the king and his retinue arrived, Richard wagered the tables still standing from the earlier feast would be laden with more food.

      He had to admit, Sara of Fernstowe did not wait upon fate. She caused things to happen. And wasn’t he a case in point?

      A short time after, the gates opened to admit Edward and a score of troops, many of whom were comrades Richard had known and served with most of his life.

      All would know the tale of his hasty marriage. Probably found it amusing to one degree or another. Richard decided to put a good face on it, just as he had done for Sara’s people.

      He threw up a hand and smiled winningly, as though content with it all, then bowed low to Edward.

      He noted Sara had smoothed her hair, sucked in a few deep breaths and had a pleasant expression firmly fixed on her face. She curtsied at his side as was proper and looked fully prepared to meet the devil himself. “Well-done,” he heard himself whisper.

      She flashed him a brief but heartfelt smile before she composed her face into a mask of earnest welcome for their royal guest.

      “Ha, there he stands, by God! Alive and well!” the king shouted as he dismounted. He ignored all the bows and murmurs of Fernstowe’s people and marched forward.

      Richard rose from his bow. “Well come, my liege.”

      “And glad are we to hear you say it,” Edward replied heartily. He took Sara’s hand and bade her rise from her curtsy. “My dear Lady Sara. Has this knave made you regret saving his hide?”

      “Not for a moment, sire. He does me all honor,” Sara said demurely.

      Richard did not miss the wry twist to her lips or the twinkle in her eyes as she said it. Neither did the king for he threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

      They thought this a grand jest, the two of them, to marry him off while he was in a stupor. As much as he resented what they had done, he knew better than to complain. Instead, he pursed his lips and nodded, granting Edward his drollery, acknowledging that he could play the fool with good grace.

      The king’s laughter trailed off as he trained his keen gaze upon Richard until tension trembled the air around them. Then he spoke. “We must speak together.”

      Sara beckoned. “Come inside, please, sire. The solar will be comfortable.” She led the way to the steps.

      “Madam, forgive us,” Edward said courteously. “I would speak to your husband in private.”

      “Oh, of course,” she said with a small shrug. “Shall I send in wine and food for you?”

      “No, we shall join the company out here anon. Meanwhile, do not let my men inconvenience you. We will take our leave within the hour.”

      Richard did not insist that they remain here any longer than necessary. He ushered the king into the solar, eager to have done with their discussion. It surely involved the trouble with the Scots, probably the activities of his brother.

      “Why have you come this way again, sire? You know it is not yet safe hereabout.”

      “You dare question my moves now, Richard?”

      “It’s a fair concern on my part. Last time you were here, you nearly met death. Who is to block the arrows for you if I can no longer ride beside you?”

      “Who, indeed?” The king strolled over to the cushioned chair usually reserved for Sara and took a seat. Richard remained standing until Edward motioned impatiently for him to sit.

      He pulled up a sturdy bench and straddled it. One always sat lower than the king. “Where is young John?