Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(225)
“You may well have noticed, sir, that my daughter demands respect in her own manner.” He sipped his wine, considering the knight with an amused smile lightly resting on his lips. “I have learned of late to trust my daughter’s judgment in many things, perhaps more so than she does herself. Still, if you are strongly bent to educate the lass, you are welcome to try.”
Gaylord straightened his gold satin coat with a jerk and stretched his long neck above the lacy jabot. “Should Madam Beauchamp accept my proposal and become my wife, I would in no way offer her less protection than I do now from such as that one. ‘Tis my duty as a knight of the realm.”
As he swaggered away Trahern turned to Pitney with a chuckle. “I fear the good fellow learned nothing in the bush. I hope the damage will not be costly.”
Ruark’s laughter died as a large hand rudely clapped down upon his shoulder, and he was whirled about to face the sneering Sir Gaylord. The bride and groom shared a look of surprise, while Shanna stared in disbelief, amazed at the audacity of the man.
Gaylord’s blue-gray eyes ranged coldly over Ruark. “ ‘Twould seem that I must constantly remind you of your place. It is with the rest of the servants and slaves. I insist that you leave Madam Beauchamp alone. Do you understand me?”
Ruark lazily bent his gaze toward the long fingers crushing the silk of his coat. He was about to comment when Shanna snatched away Gaylord’s hand as if it were something distasteful. She faced the knight, her cheeks flushed, her eyes snapping green fire. For the sake of caution, the man stepped back a pace, remembering the firm crack of her slap against his face.
“Sir, you intrude,” she charged incredulously. “Have you cause?”
The villagers had paused to gape at them. A low, questioning murmur rose from those nearby, and even Sir Gaylord recognized the angry buzz of it. The knight was out of his element, for Ruark had earned his niche in the tiny world of Los Camellos, and Gaylord Billingsham was a foreigner and disliked by most.
Gaylord spoke in a more reserved tone. “Madam, I only seek to insure this man gives proper respect to you. You may feel obligated to him for saving you from the pirates. But ‘tis my duty as a gentleman to guard a lady’s reputation.”
It was ludicrous to Shanna that this clod should feign worry over her honor in the presence of others while in private seek to win her with bungling caresses. She laughed with bright amusement.
“I assure you, sir, I am no proper lady.” Looking up into Ruark’s amused regard, she giggled. “An improper one, perhaps.”
Taking her husband’s glass, she passed it with her own to Gaylord. “Will you find a place to set these, sir?” she requested sweetly and slipped her hand into Ruark’s, signalling the musicians to begin again. “I should like to dance with my slave.”
Ruark grinned leisurely into the reddening face of the knight. “Another time, perhaps.”
Tucking Shanna’s hand in the crook of his arm, Ruark led her away from the silently raging man. The slim stems of the two goblets snapped, and without a word Gaylord whirled on his heels and stalked away.
The dances livened and grew uproarious as individuals gave their own interpretations of the various steps amid the clamorous approval and the rhythmic clapping of hands until, breathless and exhausted, the couples settled themselves to feasting and drinking to nourish their high spirits. Shanna ever found a glass of champagne in her hand, thrust there with hearty and jubilant coaxings to drink up and be jolly. Lightheartedly she sipped, and her laughter sparkled with Ruark’s deep chuckles. Finding room at one of the trestle tables, she crowded in beside him on a long bench. The close contact was not unrewarding. In fact, Ruark much enjoyed the arrangement. Her thigh was pressed to his beneath the table, and her shoulder overlapped his. The intimacy provided him with an excuse to place his hand on the bench behind her, and as the lanterns gave off only a meager light here and no one stood at their backs, it was only natural that he indulge himself with a fond caress or two for he found it hard to keep his hands from her.
The dark-haired beauty, Madame Duprey, and her captain husband sat further down the table and were much involved with each other after the Frenchman’s long absence from home. Even Shanna was inclined to feel less scornful of the man as he bestowed loving kisses upon the nape of his spouse’s neck and along her shoulder.
“How sweet,” Shanna smiled aside to Ruark. “I think he actually does love her.”
“Ah, lass, not half as much as I love you,” Ruark breathed near her ear. “I am near bursting my breeches for the want of you, and you can only sing me praises of another man’s devotion. Am I to starve with this feast before me of rosy breasts and silken loins, feigning some indifference to the succulent fruits? I long to taste the apple of your love and would most greedily devour it.”