An Uncertain Choice(20)

A growl of protest rose in my chest, and before I could stop myself I stepped forward. “Your words insult Lady Rosemarie. She would never dishonor herself. And we would never seek to harm her, only to honor her in every way possible.”

Even as the words left my lips, I thought back to the moments earlier in the day when I’d been alone with her, how beautiful she’d been. Was it possible we could unintentionally harm Lady Rosemarie with our affection and desires? My gut cinched. God forbid it.

My companion laid a steadying hand upon my arm, silently urging me to use caution.

The duke nodded at me and then turned to the abbot. “I understand your concerns, Father Abbot. My knights are but men, at the prime of their youth. They’ve been denied the pleasure of a woman’s company for too long.”

Lady Rosemarie’s eyes widened at the duke’s admission and a rosy hue colored her cheeks. I fastened my attention on the abbot, unwilling to let Lady Rosemarie know just how true the duke’s statement was. Although I was reluctant to leave behind my warring ways, I couldn’t deny my need to experience the love of a woman or the draw I’d felt toward Lady Rosemarie. And yet, was my attraction toward her special, or would I find myself drawn to anyone at this point in my life?

“Nevertheless,” continued the duke, “I’ll be overseeing all the events and outings, the dance and the jousting tournament. I’ll make certain Lady Rosemarie is chaperoned at all times when she’s with my men. We’ll do our utmost to cherish and protect her purity.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here today,” the abbot said, getting to the point he’d obviously wanted to make all along. “I don’t wish to see her pushed by you into the arms of one of your men so that you can gain control over her and her lands.”

At the words of insult toward the duke, I tensed and stepped forward again. “My master has absolutely no need for gaining control of Lady Rosemarie’s lands. Not when he’s already the lord over his own lands and estate, too numerous to count, and is bound to receive more gifts from the High King for his valor in the border skirmishes.”

The strong hands of both my companions reached out to caution me, but I shrugged them off. I might have rash tendencies, but during my many years training with the duke, he’d made sure I had learned to control them. My friends should know that, I thought with irritation.

Lady Rosemarie had been watching me with wide eyes and now held out a hand to the abbot. “Father Abbot, I invite you to stay here at Montfort Castle for the duration of the month. Then I shall have your wise counsel along with the duke’s.”

The abbot pressed his lips together as if he’d like to say more. Then he bowed his head — ?in prayer or acquiescence, I knew not.

Lady Rosemarie’s expression was conflicted. I could only imagine what a surprise the duke’s news about the exception had been and how difficult it was to reverse her plans to enter the convent when she’d already mentally prepared for a future as a nun. But still, she needed to make a decision and then stay the course.

“As always, Father Abbot, I shall covet your spiritual guidance. And I shall covet yours too, your Grace.” She turned to the duke.

The duke nodded with understanding.

“As much as I respect the guidance of you both,” she continued, her voice growing stronger, “I’m coming of age, and this is a decision I must make for myself.”

I silently applauded her brave stand. This time when her glance slid to me as though to gauge my reaction to her words, I gave her a slight nod. Perhaps she would learn to be a strong leader in time after all.




Silent screams tore at my throat. I thrashed, trying to wrench my attention from the awful sight before me. But as hard as I willed it, I couldn’t look away from the starving rat in the bottomless cage latched to the prisoner’s stomach.

“No!” I cried. My eyes flew open to the darkness of my chamber and the bed canopy overhead. With a deep gasp I bolted up, my body trembling with the lingering horrors of the nightmare. It was the same one that had plagued me these past four years.

The bed curtains were open, letting in the cool night air.

I untangled from the sheet, crawled to the edge of my fourposter bed, and slipped my legs over the edge. The scratchiness of the rushes pricked my bare feet. Hugging my arms across my chest to calm the quaking in my limbs, I glanced around the darkened chamber lit only by the moonlight spilling through the open window.

“Pup,” I whispered. “Come here, boy.”

I waited for the usual soft patter of his paws. But the only sound was Trudy’s heavy breathing coming from her sleeping pallet near the window.

I slid off the bed. “Pup?”

A loud snore from Trudy filled the stillness of the night.

I glanced from the shadows of my bed to the twisted sheets and the haunted dreams that awaited me if I climbed back in there. I needed Pup. His warm presence next to me in the bed always calmed me.

I crossed the room on my tiptoes. When I reached the door, I grabbed my cloak from the peg, slung it over my nightdress, and then lifted the latch.

The door opened soundlessly. Even so, I paused and held my breath, waiting for Trudy’s sharp command to return to bed.

But after a moment of the same rumbling snores, I slipped through the crack and into the hallway. The light of the oil lamp in the sconce outside my door illuminated the hunched shoulders of the soldier on guard — ?Bartholomew.