Conquer the Night by Heather Graham

the men agree. Courageous, passionate—the most determined warrior in this castle, one might say.”
    â€œSo you all have been discussing the Lady Kyra?” he asked, and didn’t know why the idea irritated him so.
    â€œAye.”
    â€œAnd you find her winsome?”
    â€œAlmost noble.”
    â€œWell. There are those who consider Edward I a noble king. And he is, to us, nothing more than a noble butcher.”
    â€œAye, and that’s true. Arryn, we’ve admired her, but … we are cautious for you as well. There’s not a man who does not share your anger and pain, not a man who will ever forget Hawk’s Cairn. So, aye, you should take what is Darrow’s; he should die a thousand deaths and rot in hell for eternity. And the woman is justly yours. But aren’t you afraid you’ll awake with her knife in your throat?”
    â€œI intend to take no chances; have no fear,” Arryn assured him. “There is no possibility that I will be taken off guard.”
    Ragnor stared at him, nodding; then they both turned, hearing footsteps as a sprightly man with dark eyes and graying hair came into the room. He wore a simple bleached muslin tunic and warm woolen hose; Arryn had the feeling he had recently stripped away an overvestment that would have carried Kinsey Darrow’s arms. The man seemed vaguely familiar.
    â€œMy fine sirs, I have come to see if—” He broke off, staring at Arryn, then began again quietly, “Sir Arryn?”
    â€œAye? Do I know you?”
    â€œThat you do, sir, though you may not remember me. I was a young groom when you came here years ago, riding with your father. My name is Gaston; I’m the Briton who tended the horses back then. I came to the household after nearly being trampled.” He grinned with good humor. “You, good sir, dragged me from the courtyard when a dappled gray would have made mash of my face.”
    Arryn grinned, remembering the occasion. “They shouldn’t have had you in the stables. You did not like horses.”
    â€œStill hate the creatures, sir, mainly because they hate me.” His smile faded and he went silent. “Forgive me for speaking. Morning has come. I came to see if there was something else you required.”
    â€œYou are welcome to speak, Gaston. Tell me, have you become head of the household servants here?”
    â€œAt times.”
    â€œAt times?”
    â€œWhen Lord Darrow is in residence, sir, he has his own company of retainers.”
    Arryn glanced at Ragnor, tempted to grin. Dissension in the household might be good for their current cause.
    â€œBut they have gone with him?” Arryn said.
    â€œAye, sir, they accompany him everywhere. I am a Briton, you see, and to Lord Darrow, nowhere near so competent as his own man from Sussex. However, sir, I would have you know that not only am I exceedingly competent, I am also remarkably grateful that you have chosen to seize the castle, take its wealth—and refrain from slaughtering its inhabitants.”
    â€œWell, Gaston, I’m not at all fond of slaughtering servants, and I am convinced that you will be remarkably competent. I want a very hot bath drawn in the east tower room, and I’d also have a large tankard of Seacairn’s fine ale brought there to be savored while I steam. Can you manage such comfort for me, and quickly?”
    The Briton was frowning. “Aye, sir, that I can, but I’ve been told that the Lady Kyra is residing now in the tower.”
    â€œThat she is,” he said flatly.
    For the first time it seemed that the Briton hid resentment. “Well, then, sir … you should remember that I came here under the old lord; his daughter is a Christian lass—”
    â€œWe’re all good Christians here, aren’t we, Gaston? If you wish to be of good service, do as I say.”
    â€œAye, sir,” Gaston said, bowing and backing away.