dare he, the vain, overdressed—
Rufus shifted beside her.
If Sir George had thought to say such an outrageous thing back on the road, shouldn’t he be wondering about Rufus? she thought angrily. Shouldn’t he be a little curious? Or did he assume she was sitting about like other useless young ladies of wealth and nobility, waiting for any knight capable of movement to offer. marriage?
And how was it he seemed so lazy and strangely insipid here, compared to the gracious, yet masculine, warrior on the road?
“Fetch two more goblets,” Sir Thomas ordered the page, who jumped to obey immediately. “Sit down, Rufus. Aileas, join us.”
A silence ensued as the boy returned with the required goblets and nervously poured out the wine, then scurried back to a corner.
“You remember Sir George, Aileas?” Sir Thomas demanded.
“Yes, Father, I do,” she replied. She gave their guest a sidelong glance and watched as he drank his wine elegantly, his long, slender fingers lightly holding the stem of the goblet. Every other man of her acquaintance clutched a goblet as he would a weapon.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” Rufus observed before reaching for his wine and downing a large gulp, his swallows distinctly audible.
“Yes. I’ve been serving the Baron DeGuerre,” Sir George drawled languidly. “When I was called home, I had no idea my father’s condition was so serious. He was ill quite often. Indeed, after he seemed to have passed away, I pressed my dagger to his fingertip just to ensure that the priest hadn’t made a mistake. My father was, however, completely and utterly dead.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact and his smile so continuously banal, Aileas didn’t know what to make of him. Rufus simply stared at him, dumbfounded, and Sir Thomas’s expression was nearly as stunned.
“I’m sure you will agree, Sir Thomas, that I would have been negligent in my duty to the baron if I came home too soon. You would not want your sons, whom I understand are all from home in the service of various and sundry noble lords, to rush to your bedside unless you were in imminent danger of dying.”
Sir Thomas cleared his throat. “No, no, I wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t think so. Now, if you will be so kind as to show me where I am to sleep, I believe I should retire and change for the evening meal, which I’m certain will be absolutely delightful.” He ran an appraising gaze over Rufus. “And I think I should wash.”
“Yes, yes, as you wish,” Sir Thomas muttered. “You there!” He snapped his fingers at the page boy, who once again ran forward. “Take Sir George to the bedchamber in the west tower.”
The boy nodded and bowed, and Sir George rose. “Separate sleeping quarters for guests?” he inquired lightly. “How modern.” He made a deep and graceful obeisance. “Sir Thomas, I thank you for your kind welcome. Sir Rufus, good day. Lady Aileas, a pleasure. I look forward to seeing you at supper.”
Aileas watched Sir George stroll away. The moment he disappeared from sight up the curving stone stairway leading to the upper tower, she turned toward her father. “How could any man speak so of his father’s death?” she demanded.
Sir Thomas didn’t answer right away. Indeed, Aileas suspected he, too, was wondering what kind of man he had invited into his castle, for there was a singularly incredulous look on his face. Then he cleared his throat and his face resumed its usual stern expression. “He has been gone for many years. He has indeed been in the service of Baron DeGuerre.”
Aileas was even more confused. She knew enough of the baron to realize that he wouldn’t countenance having a buffoon in his company for long.
Rufus smirked at Aileas, then turned a carefully interested eye on her father. “Who would condone having such a fool near him?” he mused aloud.
“He was the best fighter to come out of this country, save for my sons, of course. Don’t be deceived by his lack of size. He’s thin, but he’s wiry—and quicker on his feet than any man I’ve ever seen.”
“Quite frankly, Father, I find it difficult to believe he was ever anything but what we have just seen.”
“That’s where you’d be wrong,” Sir Thomas growled. “George is no fool, whatever he may seem.” Her father set down his wine. “Rufus, see that the men are told the watchword for tonight. It’s alliance.”
Rufus rose and bowed to them both before striding from the hall.
Aileas rose to leave, too, until her father ordered her to sit back down and regarded her with a speculative gaze. “What do you think of him for a husband?”
“He will do very well—for someone else,” Aileas replied bluntly.
“I want you to marry him.” It was not a wish or an opinion. It was a command. “His lands border ours, and he is a great favorite of DeGuerre,” her father reminded her unnecessarily and before she could speak. “He’s a rich man, with powerful friends, despite what he seems.”
Aileas’s hands balled into fists and she raised her eyes defiantly. “Father, I just thought—”
“You just thought? Did I ask you what you just thought? Granted the fellow’s gone a little soft, perhaps, but that can change. A few weeks here, and he’ll be what he was.”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is up to me to decide who you will marry. Remember that, Aileas.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You will wear your best gown tonight, and you will accord Sir George the courtesy his rank deserves,” Sir Thomas ordered.
“Yes, Father.”
His tone softened ever so slightly as he said, “Now you may go.”
Aileas gave no indication of her feelings as she left the hall, but she hurried to where Rufus would be speaking with the guards. She waited beside the gate until he came out of the gatehouse, then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows. “He’s ordered me to marry him!” she declared. “As if I were a chitd!”
Rufus looked down at the angry young woman and suddenly realized that they were speaking of an event that was very likely to occur. What Sir Thomas ordered always came about.
Even his daughter’s wedding, Rufus assumed.
It had to happen sometime, of course. He had known that for years, in an abstract sort of way, although he had never seriously considered the matter, just as he rarely even considered Aileas a woman. She was more like a squire or page to him than a woman.
Now that he was forced to think of her as a marriageable female, he realized that he would be very sorry to lose such a friend.
Aileas married. To that peacock Sir George.
“What do you think of him?” he asked quietly. It would be worse if she was forced to marry someone she couldn’t even respect, let alone like.
“He’s very well dressed,” she said scornfully.
