The Gorgon (8 page)

"Your sister...," his
voice was barely audible. "Does she have a champion this day?"

Stephan stared at him a moment.
Then, slowly, he shook his head. "Nay, she does not."

Bose swallowed. "Would you
be so kind as to ask her if she would permit me to wear her favor? I would be
greatly honored."

Stephan continued to gaze at the
man, torn between the thrill of his interest and the desire to protect his baby
sister. Yesterday, he had given little thought to de Moray's flattery toward
his sister when they had been unexpectedly introduced and found himself sorely
regretting his lack of foresight. From the sheer tone of the knight's voice, he
should have understood the interest.

But he had not. In truth, it had
never occurred to him given de Moray's stand-offish reputation; never once had
he seen the man with one of the many women who were intent to pursue him. Which
was why Bose's expressed interest came as something of a shock; God's Blood,
how Stephan wished another man had voiced his regard for Summer, a noble knight
who could be easily discouraged.

De Moray, however, was another
matter. Stephan had first heard the rumors regarding the man's reputation
shortly after the knight had joined the tournament circuit; dark, evil
implications that were difficult to ignore. But Stephan had never given much
thought to the vicious gossip until this moment.

After a brief pause, Stephan
shook his head slowly. "I am afraid I cannot grant your request, my lord.
If you will name your ransom, I shall be more than willing to pay."

Beneath the visor, Bose was not
shocked by Stephan's denial. But he was extremely disappointed. Struggling to
keep an even manner, he raised his visor beneath the light of the radiant sun;
rivers of sweat bathed his stubbled face as black eyes focused intently upon
their bright green counterparts.

"Instead of naming my
ransom, I would make an additional request that will take the place of any
monetary compensation. If you will not solicit your sister on my behalf, might
I know the reasons behind your decision? Is there something I have done to
offend you and am unaware of the occurrence?"

The heralds were moving toward
the two men to ascertain why they were still lingering on the field. If there
was a dispute, the heralds would be required to settle it. Stephan eyed the men
in the red and white tunics, attempting to formulate a quick reply before there
were more ears upon them.

"You have never offended me
at any time, my lord, and I consider it a great honor that you have expressed
interest in my sister," he said rapidly, quietly. "But I must again
refuse to divulge the reasoning behind my decision, as they are of a private
nature."

Bose's raven's wing eyebrows drew
together in puzzlement. "I do not understand, Stephan. Is she already
pledged?"

The heralds were nearly upon
them. Stephan turned to Bose during the last brief moment of privacy, his green
eyes piercing. "She is not pledged. I would kindly ask that you dismiss
her from your thoughts and seek your attentions with another. Leave my sister
alone."

With that, he turned on his heel
and marched from the arena. The crowd cheered weakly for the loser of the melee
as Bose remained on the field, waving off the urgent queries of the heralds and
entirely consumed with the gist of Stephan's reply. As a noble knight, he
should have respected the man's wishes and simply ridden from the field without
another thought to the lady. But as Stephan's words settled deep, he found he
was more confused than ever.

His black eyes sought the lodges
again, pensively; the lady was still smiling at him. God help him, he should
have turned that moment to retreat from the arena. But the more he stared at
her distant, lovely face, the more he realized that he was unwilling to accept
Stephan's answer. She shall never be pledged. Just what in the hell did that
mean?

Bose was a very private fighter,
well removed from the adoration of the crowd and the praise of his admirers. He
never participated in the parade of knights that usually commenced before the
tournaments, instead, leaving the pomp and circumstance to those more willing
to accept public accolades. Given his pattern, it was unusual for him to turn
his charger in the direction of the lodges. His own men saw him advance toward
the lodges, wondering if he had suddenly gone mad from a blow to the head and
had forgotten which direction to take back to their tent. Other knights saw him
as well, finding it extremely odd that Bose de Moray should bother himself with
a female admirer. For as long as any of them had known the man, he showed
little concern for anyone other than himself or his men.

Summer could hardly believe that
Bose was moving toward the lodges, his visor raised and his black eyes focused
upon her. As he drew near, she found herself studying features that had eluded
her until this moment; they were not as horrible as her brother had described
them to be. She could see his eyes, as sharp and as black as a moonless night,
emerging from beneath ruggedly arched brows. His partially obscured face was
lined with sweat, his nose straight and true, his lips full and masculine.

He moved closer and she was able
to complete her assessment of his physical features; nay, he was clearly not as
unattractive as Stephan had described him. He was terribly masculine in
appearance, brutally handsome in a harsh sort of way.  She rather liked looking
at him.

She was so involved with her
observations that she was startled when he drew alongside the raised platform,
the snorts of his charger jolting her from her train of thought. Black eyes
fixed upon those of dark gold and, for a moment, neither one dared to break the
spell. After a moment, Summer offered a timid smile. He smiled back.

"Did you enjoy your first
melee, my lady?” he asked politely. “As I have understood, it was your
first."

Summer rose to her feet, her
smile broadening. Before she could speak, however, Edward and Genisa thrust
themselves forward, intercepting Summer's reply.

"She was terrified at first,
my lord, but she calmed when you and Stephan battled for victory,"
Genisa's shrill, squeaking tone was irritating. "Congratulations on your
win, although my husband undoubtedly feels otherwise."

Bose looked to the woman, pretty
and flashy with big teeth and a sensual smile. But, already, her high-pitched
voice annoyed the hell out of him.

"In fact, he has already
congratulated me on a fine match, Lady du Bonne," he said respectfully.
"But his younger brother, I am sure, feels otherwise. I sent Ian to the
ground within the first minute or so."

"A magnificent defeat, my
lord," Edward agreed. "We've not yet met, but I am Edward du Bonne. I
have heard a great deal about you, as my sons' most formidable nemesis."

Bose bowed his head slightly in
thanks, his onyx eyes fairly glittering at Summer. "Where it is my
pleasure to vex your sons, most assuredly, my intentions toward your daughter
are precisely the opposite," when Summer blushed profusely, he could not
help but smile. "Might I have a word in private with her, my lord?"

Edward's smile faded and Bose
caught the nervous glance he cast to his daughter. "I... that is to say,
my daughter is a proper maiden, my lord. I am uncomfortable with your term
'private'. Mayhap it would be best if you said your farewell at this time;
undoubtedly, you are tired and wish to rest after your thrilling victory."

Sensing that Bose was focused on
the baron, the crowd began to filter from the lodges to take in a bit of the
merriment intended to accompany such an event. Jugglers, men who breathed fire,
and other entertainment perused the grounds, vying for attention and coinage.
Since the melee was over for the day and the joust would not commence until the
morrow, there were a hundred other diversions to occupy the guests until the
evening feast.

But Bose ignored the throng as
they vacated the stands, still focused on the baron and his evasive answer. Feeling
his annoyance mount, since he had yet to be given a valid reason as to why he
must steer clear of the lady's company, he fixed the short, fat man with a
heady stare.

"When I used the word
'private', I simply meant to infer having a confidential conversation with my
lady, not to whisk her into a darkened tent and have my way with her," as
Genisa gasped with the shock of his bold words, Bose drew in a deep breath and
attempted to calm his irritation. "I assure you, my lord, I have no
intention of vexing or molesting your daughter. A brief word is all I ask. You
may stand where you are and observe the entire happenstance. In fact, I would
encourage you to do so for your own peace of mind."

Edward's gaze was unusually hard
and unusually soft at the same time. He knew little of Bose de Moray other than
what his sons had seen notable to mention, nearly all of their tales revolving
around the man's uncanny strength and knightly ability. Still, he was unsure
and reluctant.

"As well I appreciate your
noble offer, I find I must decline yet again," he said quietly. "We
thank you for your query, sir knight, but my daughter is not interested."

"Did you ask her?"

"N-Nay, he...."

Summer's budding reply was
abruptly cut short by Genisa's grating voice, overshadowing her sister-in-law's
attempt at speech.

"I am afraid this day has
been most taxing on Summer and myself," she said quickly, grasping her
sister-in-law firmly by the arm and practically dragging her toward the exit.
"If you will excuse us, sir knight. My lord baron."

Bose watched, his black eyes
glittering, as Genisa literally yanked Summer down the small flight of stairs
leading from the lodges. Onyx-black orbs locked with those of dark gold and he
could literally read the pain and sorrow within her shimmering eyes. Her
expression, so recently lined with warmth and excitement at the sight of him,
was drawn and taut and, he thought, bordering on tears.

He watched her retreat until she
disappeared from sight. When Summer had faded from view amongst the vendors and
crowd, he returned his attention to the rotund baron. From soft black one
moment to blazing embers the next, his gaze was anything but tolerant upon his
host.

"My lord," he began,
his baritone voice as steady as he could manage for the fury and confusion
building in his heart. "I realize you do not know me; therefore, I do not
fault your protectiveness where your daughter is concerned. But I am a noble
knight with an established reputation, and believe me when I tell you that my
intentions toward your daughter are entirely chivalrous."

Edward, normally weak-willed and
fairly pliable to the desires of others, met his gaze with wavering courage.
"You must understand, my lord, that I find no fault with you at all. In fact,
your interest pleases me greatly. But Summer is... courting her is out of the
question. I sincerely wish I could elaborate, but I cannot. 'Tis a private
matter I prefer not to discuss with a stranger. Please obey my wishes and end
your pursuit."

Bose emitted a harsh sigh,
leaning forward on his saddle in a gesture of exhaustion and disbelief.
"God's Beard, I did not say anything about courting her. I merely wanted
to speak with her."

"But why?"

He looked at the man a moment
before averting his gaze, staring off toward the rapidly approaching sunset.
After a moment of deliberation, he waved his hand in a careless gesture.
"I am without a lady to champion for this tournament. I merely wished to
ask her for a favor."

Edward stared at the knight, shaking
his head after a moment. "I am sorry," he said softly, moving away
from the dais and down the stairs before Bose could say another word.

Bose remained before the empty
lodges for quite some time afterward, wondering why on earth the House of du
Bonne had refused to allow him to speak with the fair Lady Summer. First
Stephan and now the father. Both of them reacting strangely toward the request,
as if Bose had somehow demanded the maiden be allowed to bear him a son out of
wedlock.

The problem, however, was clear;
he simply wasn't good enough for her. She was far too beautiful for him, an
aged widower with nothing by way of bloodlines or family ties to offer her. Of
course that was the true reason; she was well beyond his grasp.

With a heavy sigh, he turned his
charger toward the edge of the field where his men were already collecting
ransom from their humble prisoners. Once a ransom was paid, the man was free to
go and prepare for the coming joust. Though the thought of money to be had
usually pleased him, he realized that there was nothing to be pleased over this
day.

Victory or not, he shouldn't have
even come.

***

"Stop dragging me about,
Genisa!" Summer snapped when the lodges were well out of sight. Yanking
her arm free, she glared irritably at her sister-in-law. "Let go of
me!"

Genisa appeared properly contrite
in the face of her husband's angry sister. "I do apologize, Summer, but
you are fully aware that I only have your best interests at heart. We had to
leave before…."

"B-Before I embarrassed
everyone with my stammering speech," Summer supplied harshly, humiliated
and furious. Sighing heavily, she turned away and allowed her pouting gaze to
rove the grounds. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to laugh as other maidens
laugh, to encounter the thrill of her first beau, and to know all else that
noble maidens usually experience. The fact that Genisa and her father had
chased Sir Bose away as if she carried the plague cut a path of anguish deep
into her heart; more than ever, the true reason behind their shielding actions
was obvious and Summer found herself wanting to be away from her overbear
sister-in-law.