Page 47 of Bite of the Gargoyle

“Bought yourself a bride, Balor?”

“This is my brother, Derith,” explained Balor. “You will have to excuse him. Well… you don’t have to but I find it easiest. Derith, this is Miss Cherval, who I am to marry.”

The equally handsome brother bowed to me, managing to do so with a hint of sarcasm. “You have my sympathies, Miss Cherval. I do hope the wage is worth the work.”

I did a sharp double-take, for the speaker, leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, was almost the double of my husband to be.

With that sullen comment, he went back inside.

“I apologize for him,” said Balor. “Younger brothers get a rough time of it and Derith has never grown up.”

Truth be told, what Derith had inferred was not so far from my own concerns. But, still, I allowed myself to hope. Perhaps marriage would not be so bad. Balor seemed nice and kind, he was certainly handsome. Aside from a rude sibling, all seemed well.

I was shown to a pretty room in one of the towers and the next few days passed in a charming blur. I moved to the castle ahead of the wedding so that all the necessary preparations could be made without worrying about the long journey, but Balor suggested we use our proximity as an opportunity to get to know each other and I readily accepted. We went for walks together, we played backgammon, we ate dinner and talked beside the fire. He was a perfect gentleman.

But, while I warmed to one D’Orsay brother, the other remained sullen and stand-offish. I tried to avoid being around him when Balor wasn’t there, but over breakfast one morning it was just him and me.

“Do you like the castle?” he asked.

“Very much,” I replied.

“Is a castle the going rate?”

I frowned. “For what?”

“Would you marry for less than a castle? I don’t know what the bride to property exchange rate is.”

I would not have called myself a strong-willed woman—my parents had not encouraged such qualities as they made daughters difficult to offload—but where Derith D’Orsay was concerned, I’d reached my limit.

“May I ask; what is your problem with me?”

Derith almost smiled. “So, you do have a backbone.”

“I also have manners.”

He sat back. “Of course. A girl without manners is no fit bride, and that’s what you’re trying to be, isn’t it?”

“I’m not trying to be anything.”

For a moment, the man kept his amber eyes trained on me as if he could see into my thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was still hard, but perhaps less accusatory.

“You know why my brother wishes to marry you, yes?”

I drew in a breath. My mother had explained to me that such things were not to be spoken of; if anyone asked the question, then the answer was always ‘Love’. But something about Derith D’Orsay told me that he wasn’t going to buy such an answer.

“I know that my family name is… worth something. But now I have met your brother…”

The fire flashed in Derith’s eyes again. “Care to put a figure on it? On what your name is worth?”

I colored. Such a question was both unseemly and ungentlemanly.

“I was not privy to the negotiations,” I mumbled.

“But there must have been other bidders,” Derith pressed.

“I really couldn’t say.”

“Indeed?”

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