“And I can’t believe you should wish to wed him,”Magan said. “Despite that he’s the most handsome of men, he would likewise make the most unreliable of husbands. Only think of all his.women.”She reddened just speaking of it. “How could you possibly wish to be united to such a man?”
“Easily,”Katharine said with a wave of one hand. “Oh, Kie’s a troublemaker, I grant you, but his heart is good and his pockets empty. ‘Twould be a simple matter to coax him to the idea, and he’d leave Lomas readily enough when the time came. He’s never wished to marry any more than I have. I can’t think why it’s not occurred to me before now that we might lend each other aid in the matter.”
“He’d be a burden about your neck for the rest of your life,”Dorothea declared. “Always showing up when he was in trouble or needing money. You’d never be rid of him.”
“I won’t care for that, so long as he never attempts to lay claim to Lomas. And that,”she said with certainty, “is something he would not do. You know how he disdains responsibility.”She grinned at her ladies. “’Tis why he’s always roaming about, hither and yon, is that not so? Nay, Kie will give me no trouble. He’ll make the ideal husband, if I can but convince him to come to Lomas to hear what I propose.”
“I doubt you could even find him,”Ariette said with a sniff. “He only shows up when he wants something.”
“Unkind!”Katharine charged. “And untrue. You know very well that he comes often only to visit. We’ve always gotten along well, and I have counted him among my truest friends. If he has needed aid on occasion, I’ve been more than glad to lend it. He’s never grown wearisome in his company, at least, as Lord Hanley was given to do.”
“And what of Lord Hanley?”Magan asked. “What if he should one day return from his pilgrimage? What a fine road of trouble that would be, were he to find you wed to another who’d taken his name.”
Katharine shook her head. “He’ll not return. Not after so long. And if he should—”The idea made her feel slightly ill. “At least I would be safely wed to another. If I lose Lomas for the deceit, I would not also have to suffer in being his wife. But come. We waste precious time. Magan, bring parchment and ink, and I will write a missive to Kieran. If only he can be found in time, we may be ready to receive whoever else Duke Humphrey deigns to send. Even Sir Senet Gaillard, should he be so bold as to come to Lomas uninvited. But I cannot think he would do anything so rude, unless he is more treacherous than his father was.”
“Oh, my lady,”Magan said, pleading, “I beg you to think of this matter again. It can bring naught but disaster!”
“There is no more time for pondering. Indeed, we would do far better to spend our time in prayer, and ask God to aid us in finding my cousin. Knowing how he wanders, that in itself may require a small miracle.”
It looked the same as Senet had remembered it. The valley spread out below was the most beautiful he’d ever seen—although he knew, in truth, that only he would think it so. But the land surrounding Castle Lomas was ripe with crops—wheat, oats, beans—while farther away it rolled gently, dotted with oak trees. Farther still the trees grew together more thickly, forming a forest. A small, constant river meandered through the middle of the valley, bordering the castle gates on one side. He remembered fishing in that river, and riding through the oak trees and forest, and hawking with his father in the fields on cold, early mornings. His mother had liked to sit atop the castle walls on pleasant nights and gaze out at the stars, pondering their distances and trying to figure the numbers in her brilliant mind. His sister, Isabelle, had played with him in the garden in the inner bailey when they were children, although she was older than he by some few years.
How very long ago it seemed, when he had believed that Castle Lomas was a place of complete security. He had thought he would live there forever and one day be lord, that he would bring his own lady there as wife and raise his children in the castle where he himself had been born.
It had gone away so quickly, all of it. The land, the castle, the title—even his parents. His father had found it more difficult to give fealty to his family than to France, the land of his birth, and so had turned traitor when England had sought the French throne. Even after England had secured the throne he’d continued plotting treason, and when the betrayal had been discovered, Lord Lomas had been promptly executed. Castle Lomas, the lands and the title had been stripped away, claimed by the crown as forfeit for the crime. Senet’s mother, an English noblewoman, had died soon thereafter, of a broken heart His sister, Isabelle, had been given into the care of their mother’s half brother, Baron Hersell, and had been made to labor as little better than a lowly servant. Senet himself had become a slave to the man who had been fostering and training him for knighthood, but who would no longer countenance to train the son of a traitor. For years Senet had labored as if he were an animal, and had prayed daily for death, finding the thought of it far preferable to the life he had. His father’s deeds had taken away everything, even Senet’s claim to honor.
When he was sixteen he’d been miraculously rescued by Sir Justin Baldwin, the man who had saved Isabelle from Baron Hersell and taken her as his wife. Sir Justin had given him a home, a family, and had trained him for knighthood. In his selfless, gentle manner he had also given Senet something far more—the courage and the means to fight for his honor again. And Senet had done just that, serving England for the past ten years in its bloody, hopeless war against France, proving his loyalty time and again on the battlefield. Whatever his father had given away to France, Senet had taken back again, not letting himself think too long or too hard on who it was that he killed, or that his enemy might also be of his own, half—French blood.
And now he was nearing the last of it. His final goal. Castle Lomas would be his before the day was out, as it should always have been, and he would have his honor restored in full.
“The king’s messenger is returning.”Kayne, standing beside him, pointed to where the small figure of a man on horseback moved across the valley floor. “I wonder if Lady Katharine’s response was any different today than it has been these past many weeks.”
“It matters not,”Senet said. “Today is the finish of her wavering, whether she said ‘nay’ or ‘yea.’ Today I will have Lomas, either by reason or by force, and tomorrow, by the same reckoning, Lady Katharine will become my wife.”
“What I wonder,”said Aric, standing on Senet’s other side, “is if she’s ugly. A woman that age, twenty and one, and unmarried—there must be a reason for it.”
“It matters not,”Senet repeated. “I’ve no care for what she looks like, even if she should be an ugly hag. She will be my wife. Tomorrow.”
“’Tis indeed a goodly land,”Kayne remarked, crossing his arms against his chest. “I can understand why you longed for it. But, God’s feet, what a price you’ve been made to pay.”
Aye, he’d paid a price for it, Senet thought, in blood, with his very soul. Nothing would take it from him now.
“I give you good day,”a voice behind them greeted, accompanied by the sound of a horse’s hooves.
“John, well met.”Senet moved to hold that man’s horse as he dismounted. “How is it that you’ve returned before the king’s messenger? Did all go well?”
With a good—natured smile, John Ipris joined his friends at the edge of the hill, his stance leisurely and relaxed compared to the ready manner of his warrior companions.
“I’ve completed my survey of the castle proper, Senet, if that is what you mean. As to Lady Katharine—from what I overheard of her conversation with Sir William, your suit has not yet met with acceptance. She invoked the name of Lord Hanley again and insisted upon her loyalty to him.”
“’Tis an admirable quality in a woman,”Kayne said. “Loyalty.”
“And not often found in the fairer sex,”Aric added somewhat bitterly. “She’s a fool to waste the virtue on a dead man.”
“If