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Twenty-eight
“But my lord, how can you wed with her if she does not have dark hair like the rest of us?” Patrick ventured to ask as he put down his quill. The lad appeared quite full of himself now that he was in possession of a tunic bearing Dristan’s crest and wore the garment with pride. “I thought all must have black hair, if they are to bear your coat of arms?”
Dristan reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair playfully. Leaning over, he viewed with a practiced eye the parchment on which Patrick had been writing his letters. Picking up the nearby quill, he demonstrated the letter the lad was having difficulty with. “See you here? It goes in this direction,” he said. “Try again, Patrick.”
“Aye, my lord,” Patrick sighed wearily. He began muttering underneath his breath about why he must needs always be studying his letters and such, especially when he would rather be learning sword play.
Amiria grinned, admiring Dristan’s patience with her brother. ’Twas quite the domesticated scene, if she was to ponder upon it for any length, and one she had not thought would come to pass given her lord’s reputation. Normally the lady of the keep would be required to teach a squire his letters, and yet Dristan had insisted he take over this task with her brother. Seeing the tip of the poker was now red hot, she pulled it from the fire and plunged it into a chalice of wine. Allowing the herbs to steep a few moments, she at last reached out and handed the cup to Dristan.
He came to her and took it with a nod of thanks. By the expression on his face he was pleased with her efforts to see to his comfort. Turning back to the lessons at hand, he placed the cup down upon the table to review Patrick’s work again and placed his hand over the boy’s to help him with the correction of his letters. Another weary sigh escaped Patrick from the difficulty he was having.
Amiria let out a brief laugh at the concentration on her brother’s face and caught Lynet’s eye as she looked up from her stitchery wondering at the cause of her mirth.
“I can remember Aiden doing the same thing when mother was trying to teach him his letters,” she declared with a smile. “He never could seem to get them to go in the right direction either.”
Lynet smiled with the memories of their mother as few as they had been. “I do miss her at times, especially when I could use her advice on a particular stitch or even with learning about the healing herbs found in the garden.”
Dristan rose from leaning over Patrick and came to stand beside Lynet. “Kenna tells me you are doing exceedingly well, Lady Lynet, with all she is teaching you. You are a fine addition to my household, and I am glad to know that Berwyck is twice blessed to have two healers in residence.”
Lynet beamed from Dristan’s approval. “Thank you for your kind words, my lord,” she whispered, and resumed her needlework.
Dristan gave her sister a small reassuring pat upon her shoulder. Their gazes met ’til Amiria felt as if he were stripping her of the dark blue gown she wore. Her breath left her, and she smoothed her unbound hair that fell down her back in a riot of red curls. She bit her lower lip and saw how his eyes followed her movements ’til she swore she could almost feel his lips beneath her own, teasing her to allow him entrance. Was it just her, or did the room suddenly become stifling with heat? she wondered.
Finally taking her eyes from his mouth, she raised her gaze to stare up into his twinkling grey eyes. He returned her look with a mischievous grin. The rogue, she mused. He knew exactly where her thoughts had taken her. She attempted to think of some way to save face in front of this over confident man but decided to yield to him at least for now. She sat back in her chair and just enjoyed the sensation of having his full and undivided attention.
Amiria lounged in her chair with the confidence of a woman who knew the effect she was having on him.
The little vixen! he mused. She returned his playful smile with one of her own, and he wished not for the first time this day that the solar was empty save the two of them.
“My lord,” Patrick called from across the solar.
“Aye, Patrick?” Dristan answered, never taking his eyes from Amiria and the picture of perfection she offered him. She was going to make him daft. Perchance they should wed without further haste. He reluctantly dragged his eyes from his lady and turned his attention to the young lad, who motioned for him to come closer. He humored the boy by striding across the room and leaning down next to him.
“She doesn’t have black hair my lord,” he whispered in Dristan’s ear.
Dristan chuckled. “Aye, she does not, does she my boy?” he paused and held out his hand to show a ring he wore on his finger. “But see you here this dragon on my crest? See the flame spew forth from his mouth? Somehow I think the red of her hair will complement us. Do you not think ’tis so?”
“Well . . . I suppose,” Patrick answered softly still not completely at ease that ’twas right. A sideways glance upward and Dristan knew the boy would not argue with his lord.
Dristan’s mirth could no longer be contained as a laugh escaped him from viewing Patrick’s expression. “Perchance now is as good a time as any to present my lady with a small pre-wedding gift. ’Tis mayhap not the most normal gift one would bestow upon a lady one is to wed, but I thought it most appropriate.”
He went behind his desk to the corner and removed a tarp that he began folding, hiding from view the rather large box residing up against the wall. With a quick peek over his shoulders, he hid his smile as he watched Amiria, Lynet, and Patrick return to their tasks at hand. In Amiria’s case, she continued to lounge there, looking quite fetching. Lifting up the box, he came to stand afore her and presented his hand for her to rise.
“For you, my lady. I hope you like it,” Dristan said, offering her the present. “If you but lift the lid, I shall hold it steady for you.”
She gazed at the size of the box with a look of puzzlement upon her face. “It appears heavy,” she said. Her creased brow led him to believe she was mystified of what could possibly be in the container of such considerable size.
“Hurry, Amiria, and open it,” Patrick said excitedly as he came to stand next to his siblings.
“Aye, do hurry, Amiria! I just love presents,” exclaimed Lynet.
Amiria began to lift the lid whilst Dristan looked on his lady’s face. He smiled in satisfaction whilst she seemingly pondered the thoughtfulness of his gift. As she peered inside to see her present, her mouth opened silently, for no words could be found apparently to express the joy at what she beheld. She looked at Dristan and a single tear slid down her cheek, for nestled in a bed of purple velvet was the sword he had forged for her.
He watched her joy as her fingers wrapped themselves around the golden hilt of the sword. Pulling it from its velvet bed, she brought it in front of her and gazed upon its flawlessness. The blade had been engraved with two dragons; their tails intertwined as if they were in truth one. That in itself should have spoken more than any words Dristan could ever say to her, for ’twas a reminder of their first time together. She took a quick glance at the hilt that fit her hand perfectly and admired the enormous purple gem winking at her from the firelight.
“The stone’s color reminded me of your eyes,” Dristan spoke, reading her thoughts.
Setting the blade carefully down, Amiria launched herself into Dristan’s arms. He caught her easily and held her close.
“’Tis magnificent,” she whispered softly in his ear, “as are you!”
“Harrumph! ’Tis about time you noticed, my lady,” he said playfully, although he still felt slightly embarrassed at her words.
“’Tis a very thoughtful gift, and one I shall treasure all of my days,” she declared sweetly. “I did not think you would care for me to lift a sword again.”
Dristan looked into her eyes captivated by the depth of emotion he could see shining there. “How else are you to guard my back if you are not properly trained, my lady?” he answered with a sparkle in his eyes. “Besides, I believe this one will suit you better as ’tis lighter. I still have the sword your father gave you and, perchance one day, if we should be so blessed, you can bestow it to our son.”
Amiria could no longer contain showing her happiness. Reaching up, she pulled his head down in order to reach his lips. Dristan clasped her to him, for she kissed him with all the emotions she had held in check. He felt her tremble beneath his hands whilst she held onto his arms. He deepened their kiss just to prove that he would leave her weak-kneed, necessitating his support to keep her upright.
“Come Patrick,” Lynet prompted. “Let us leave them some privacy for a bit.”
“But Lynet, I want to look at Amiria’s sword,” he whined.
Dristan reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Amiria but did not loosen his hold of her. Placing a kiss upon her forehead he called to her siblings. “Lynet, go see what cook has in his kitchen. He can put everything into a basket and we shall away to the strand and enjoy the afternoon there.”
“Me too, my lord?” Patrick asked hopefully.
“Aye . . . you too, Patrick. Mayhap you could see that our horses are ready along with blankets to take our ease on the sand,” Dristan said humorously and saw the enthusiastic smile that lit the boy’s face.
“Hooray!” Patrick exclaimed, jumping for joy and running from the solar with Lynet fast on his heels, calling down the passageway for him to slow down.
As the door closed softly, Amiria turned once more into Dristan’s arms. “We will have no peace once Patrick’s feet hit the sand you know. He just loves the ocean.”
Dristan chuckled. “He’s a good lad and in truth had more patience than I ever would to sit as long as he did. I thought he deserved a reprieve.”
“You are good with him, and Lynet of course.”
He reached out and smoothed her fallen hair back from her face. “Well, they are to be my family, are they not? I could do nothing less than see to their care, now could I?”
“Aye, my lord,” she whispered and closed her eyes as he again pressed a kiss upon her lips.
“Now . . . did you in truth like the gift?” he said hopefully and watched her nod. “Good! Then go change. We will away and see how you improve with a lighter blade.”
“As you wish, Dristan,” she said happily and leaned up to receive another of his kisses. He tightened his arms around her yet again, for he did not want to let go of this moment.
Dristan finally pulled away but saw the look of regret in his lady’s eyes. “Go on now, you saucy wench, afore we disappoint the others and retire to my chamber for the afternoon instead.” He watched as she tossed him a look promising more to come later and with a light pat upon her bottom, Amiria laughed gaily, running from the solar.
Dristan joined in her laughter, although he was now standing there alone with his idle thoughts. Raking his hand through his hair, he went to the door to head down to the stables and caught a fleeting glimpse of blue gown as Amiria entered her chamber at the end of the long passageway. God . . . what a woman.
