Nicholas frowned. “I require proof before I punish anyone for a crime.”
“I don’t think they know that, my lord.” Neither had she, although once he said it, she believed him. “And you’re…”
“What?” he asked when she hesitated.
Driven to it, she said, “You’re very intimidating. If I were your servant, I’d think twice about coming to you with a complaint, about anything.”
“I am what I am, my lady, and what my life has made me. I cannot change.”
“Not even if it means your own household lives in fear of you? That isn’t commanding their respect, my lord. That’s tyranny and it also leads to anger and resentment.”
“A castle requires discipline, my lady. Or perhaps you’d like me to tuck my soldiers into bed at night and sing them a lullaby? Maybe you’d like me to weave daisy chains for the maidservants? Or declare every second day a holiday?”
“Occasional praise can be as effective as correction.”
He leaned down to grab his sword belt and scabbard that had been beneath the jerkin. “When you are in command of a castle and garrison, I’ll take your advice.”
Worried she’d angered him too much and that he wouldn’t do anything about Alfred, she tried to lessen the tension between them. “You’re right. I don’t know much about commanding a garrison, especially one so large.”
“A man has to protect what is his.”
“I don’t think there would be too many men willing to try to take Dunkeathe from you.”
“Because I have such a large garrison.”
“And because the king gave it to you.”
Although Nicholas’s eyes still burned with indignation, he didn’t sound quite so annoyed. “In spite of that, I know most Scots wish me gone.”
“My uncle doesn’t.”
“Then he’s an exception,” Nicholas replied as he buckled his belt about his waist. He raised an inquisitive brow. “I suppose your uncle adheres to the notion that no Scot would betray another or try to take what is his by force?”
“My uncle certainly thinks the Scots are the finest, most trustworthy people on earth, but we’ve heard of the betrayal of Lachlann Mac Taran, and how it nearly cost your sister her life.”
“And what about you, my lady?” Nicholas asked. “Do you have a similarly high opinion of your people?”
“I think some people are greedy and ambitious and will stop at nothing to get what they want, no matter where they’re born. Fortunately, my uncle’s holding is too small and insignificant and rocky to be of interest to clever, scheming, ambitious men.”
“Do you thinkIam a clever, scheming, ambitious man?”
She met his gaze squarely. “I believe you’re ambitious, or you wouldn’t have worked so hard for your success. And you aren’t a fool, my lord, or again, you wouldn’t be in possession of this land and this castle. As for scheming, your plan to find a bride seems rather heartless.”
“If I crave wealth and power, Riona,” he grimly replied, “it’s because I know what it is to lack them. If my method of choosing a bride seems cold and calculated, it’s because I can’t marry just to satisfy my desire.”
Why did he have to speak of desire?
“Sir Nicholas!” a voice bellowed, one that Riona had recently heard raised in rage and frustration.
The cook came marching toward them across the ward, his face red, his breathing heavy with the effort.
Wondering what Nicholas was going to do, Riona slid him a wary glance. His face rarely betrayed any hint of what he was thinking, but unless she was very much mistaken, Alfred was about to discover that Nicholas of Dunkeathe had little use for men who beat defenseless boys.
The cook seemed to realize something was amiss, for before he reached them, he pointed at Riona and declared, “My lord, this Scot is filling your head with lies and false accusations. She even threatened me! Who does she think she is, anyway? She’s not in charge of my kitchen.”
“Neither are you,” Nicholas replied, his voice cold and his tone imperious. “I am in charge of Dunkeathe, Alfred, and therefore in charge of the kitchen.”
“But I am in your employ to run your kitchen, my lord,” Alfred protested, his voice now more whining than defiant. “I haven’t failed you in that. And my skills are without question.”
