Page 62 of The Darkland

Just when he thought he had lost her completely, Lord le Vay and his richly-dressed daughter entered the room and Mara’s attention was diverted. A few smiles and a good deal of chatter regarding Lily’s elaborate dress caused Mara to forget her sobs. With another dose of wine and a barrage of kisses to her hands, Mara was calming admirably.

Though Spencer wished it was he who was doing the calming. The knight had thus far sat silent throughout the exchange, hearing little of the conversation but aware of the body language. Obviously, there was a good deal of emotion between the lady and Sir Kirk and, being a gracious knight, Spencer should have been willing to relinquish his pursuit. But he realized, as he had when he had first seen the lady, that she was one prize worth fighting for. And he further realized he was determined to win.

Lord le Vay motioned to Kirk as Spencer continued to stare at Mara. Kirk kissed Mara’s hand and left the table without as much as a glance to Spencer. While Kirk found himself being introduced to a flock of le Vay relatives, Spencer saw his opportunity arise.

Great platters of food were brought from the kitchens, much to the delight of the famished guests. As a huge boar was set in the center of their table, Spencer immediately sliced off a portion for Mara and placed it neatly on her plate.

“This bugger was a feisty one,” he said, cutting his own meat from the thigh. “He nearly gored me before I could kill him.”

Mara, still emotionally fragile, found she had no appetite. But Spencer smiled at her encouragingly, going so far as to cut her meat when she simply sat and stared at it. It took a good deal of coaxing for her to taste it, and even then, she chewed slowly and without enthusiasm.

Spencer watched her lethargic movements, setting his knife down after a moment. “Is it not to your liking, my lady?”

Mara shook her head. “It is very good.” She swallowed hard, forcing it down. “I… I am simply not hungry.”

Spencer was to the point. “Because of Kirk?”

Mara looked at him. Then, she looked away sullenly. “I find I must apologize for my behavior earlier, Sir Spencer. I never meant to… that is to say, I believe I encouraged your attention and I should not have. Sir Kirk and I are… involved.”

“Are you betrothed?”

Her brow furrowed and she stared at her hands. “Well… nay, we are not. But he is going to ask Lord Edmund for permission when we return to Anchorsholme.”

Spencer stared at her a moment, her silken hair and exquisite profile. She seemed to provoke feelings in him that he had forgotten himself capable of and the desire to continue those warm feelings, expand them, was more than a want. It was a need.

“Tell me, Lady Mara,” he said quietly. “Is Kirk the only suitor you have known?”

Mara was thoughtful. “In the true sense,” she admitted. “I have known many men, mostly friends of my father or relatives. But Kirk is the only man who has pursued me.”

Spencer smiled faintly. “Then tell me; were you to go to the dress maker, would you simply purchase the first dress offered or would you demand to be shown her selection of patterns before making your choice?”

Mara turned her brilliant blue eyes on him and Spencer was swallowed by their beauty. “What does that have to do with suitors?”

His pale eyes twinkled. “I mean that you should choose carefully your suitor. Not simply take the first man who comes along.”

Mara regarded him carefully. “I do not need to sample a variety of men before making my selection. I love Kirk.”

Spencer’s smile faded somewhat. “Are you sure it is not infatuation?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you said yourself he is the first man who has wooed you. Is it possible that the thrill of his attentions has caused you to believe yourselfin love with him when, in fact, he has merely succeeded in blinding you with his charm?”

Mara frowned. “I am not a fool, Sir Spencer. I love Kirk and he loves me and we shall be married.”

Spencer cast a long glance at Kirk, currently in conversation with a wrinkled dowager. But the Irish knight caught his stare, the stone-gray eyes blazing across the room. Spencer merely turned back to Mara.

“Kirk Connaught is a career soldier,” he said quietly. “The man is thirty-three years old and has never been married. Have you never wondered why?”

Mara shook her head slowly. “Nay.”

Now that he had her attention, Spencer focused on his food. “Mayhap you should consider that he is not the marrying kind. You could find yourself taking second place in his heart, well behind his love for fighting and his oath to the House of de Cleveley.”

Mara stared at the man as he devoured his meat, turning wide eyes to Kirk as he chatted politely with the old woman in the severe wimple. She simply couldn’t believe there was any truth to Spencer’s words but was appalled to realize he had given her food for thought. Being rather innocent of men and their games, it was difficult to resist the confusion.

“You are wrong.” She turned away from Kirk and from Spencer, taking another bite of meat simply to occupy herself. “Kirk and I shall wed and he shall love me best of all.”

Spencer continued to eat. “I certainly hope so, my lady,” he said softly. “Speaking for myself, of course, I would most certainly love you best of all. There would be nothing to stand in the way of my devotion.”