Nicholas rolled over and got to his feet. “Thank God,” he said as he brushed bits of twig and grass from himself. Then he raised his eyes and saw Riona.
His smile of recognition made her heart sing. The glow in his eyes for her alone filled her with joy and made her quicken her pace, and his low obeisance made her feel like a queen.
“I fear I’m interrupting a tournament,” she said when she reached them.
Seamus looked as if he agreed.
“We’re finished, and alas, not too soon, for I was soundly beaten,” Nicholas admitted. His smile disappeared as he addressed his scowling nephew. “Sir Knight, where are your manners?”
Seamus bowed. “Greetings, my lady,” he muttered.
She bowed low in response. “Greetings to you, Sir Knight. I perceive you are a fine and valiant swordsman if you can triumph over your uncle. Although alas, I fear he’s getting old.”
When Nicholas shot her a disgruntled look, she tried to stifle her smile.
“Uncle Nicholas once beat twenty knights in a single day in a tournament,” the lad said, rushing to his uncle’s defense.
“Iwasmuch younger then,” Nicholas grudgingly admitted, “and by the end of that day, my arms were so tired, I thought they’d drop off.”
“You won anyway,” Seamus declared, obviously not willing to allow his uncle to be criticized, even by himself.
“I was lucky,” he replied. He looked at Riona with another devilish smile that played havoc with her heartbeat. “What brings you here, my lady, beyond seeing a demonstration of fine swordsmanship? Were you looking for me?”
“No. Your sister wished to speak to me.”
Nicholas’s grin disintegrated and his eyes narrowed a little. “What about?”
Riona wondered how much she should say to Nicholas about his sister’s views. She had heard enough to know that their relationship had not always been a smooth one; it was now, and she didn’t want to ruin it.
“I bet I know,” Seamus piped up before Riona could answer. “Mama thinks Uncle Nicholas doesn’t know how to find a wife.”
Having been forewarned by her conversation with the lady, Riona wasn’t nearly as surprised as Nicholas by this observation.
“She said that to you?” Nicholas asked.
Seamus’s face turned red. “Noooo,” he mumbled, digging his toe into the dirt and not meeting his uncle’s eye. “To Father. They didn’t know I was still awake.”
“I see,” Nicholas said in a tone that sounded interested, not annoyed. “And how does she think I ought to go about it?”
“I didn’t hear that part. They started whispering and laughing and I fell asleep.”
“I’ll have to ask her what I’m doing wrong.”
The little boy looked up at him with a stricken countenance. “You won’t tell her I said, will you?”
“Of course not. We’re brothers-in-arms, sworn to be loyal forever, and such an oath means that if you wish me to keep a secret, I will until the day I die.”
Seamus’s eyes widened, and well they might, for there was no mistaking the firm sincerity of Nicholas’s words.
“Now run along, young man,” he ordered, “or your mother will be angry at me for keeping you so long.”
The lad did as he was ordered, and scampered off toward the castle.
Nicholas reached out and took Riona’s hand. His touch was warm and welcome, intimate and friendly. Wonderful. Achingly, heartrendingly wonderful.
They strolled toward a large willow on the riverbank, its slender branches like long, flowing hair. He parted the natural curtain and led her inside. “And now, my love,” he said softly as they stood together beneath the branches, “what did Marianne really want to talk about?”
“You,” Riona answered, leaning against the willow’s trunk. “She wanted to be sure I knew your history and that you deserved to be happy.”
