Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I t had been a long night.

Trenton was feeling his exhaustion as the sun began to rise, seeing the sides of his tent become illuminated as a new day dawned.

He hadn't slept all night, directing the clean-up of Mount Wrath and making sure the fortress was as secure as they could get it. The rebels who had been bottled up in the keep had surrendered for the most part and he was dealing with about two hundred prisoners, now tucked in behind his camp and being heavily guarded by English who weren't particularly kind to them. He'd personally broken up a couple of beatings, angry English soldiers pounding on unarmed Irish.

But there had been other things, too. Dillon had taken Brend's wounding hard and he hadn't been terribly effective at managing the aftermath of the battle, which had fallen entirely to Trenton even though Damon was there and part of the de Winter family.

Damon essentially looked upon his role in the entire event as being over with, since it was his bombard that had breached the castle and made it so Mount Wrath was recovered. But he had been furious that his tent had been given over to the wounded and he'd taken over a Wellesbourne tent, leaving William without a roof over his head. William had moved his things in with Boden and Gage.

In fact, the three younger knights had proven admirably responsible in helping Trenton mop up the battle, but under Cort's guidance. While Trenton supervised everything, it had been Cort out in the field making sure everything was completed.

Trenton couldn't have done it without him.

Now, as dawn broke over the green and wild land, those who had cleaned up the battlefield and secured Mount Wrath were starting to trickle back. A small force of de Winter men were now stationed in Mount Wrath and Cort had put them on rebuilding the drawbridge, or what there was left of it. He'd yet to return to camp, nor had Dillon, but Trenton could see men returning from their duties.

Denys had his castle returned to him, but it was in shambles. His legacy knight was hovering near death, and half of the MacRohan Clan had been wiped out. Trenton wasn't entirely certain if Denys would view this as a victory.

Perhaps the cost had been too high.

As he stood there, watching the men wander back into camp, he heard someone behind him.

"Westbury?"

Trenton turned around to see Damon standing behind him. He scratched his head wearily. "It looks as if some of the men are returning," he said. "I should have a report on the status of Mount Wrath shortly."

Damon came to stand beside him, watching the men return also. "Some of my men have already returned from it," he said. "They tell me that your brother has the drawbridge patched sufficiently that they will be able to raise and lower it. It is semi-passable."

Trenton nodded. "Good," he said. "Cort has a way with men that drives them better and faster than most. He works alongside them. The men respect that."

"It is about your brother I must speak to you."

Trenton looked at him curiously. "Cort?"

"Aye."

"What about him?"

Damon gestured to the empty de Russe tent behind them. "In private, please."

Interested, Trenton followed. They ended up in the darkened tent with a brazier in the middle throwing off some heat. Damon went to it, holding up his hands to warm them.

"I understand you have your reasons for keeping it secret, but even de Russe is not above the law," he said. "Does Henry know?"

"Know what?"

"Of your brother's illegal marriage?"

Trenton had no idea what he was talking about. " Cort's illegal marriage?" he said, trying to clarify. "I do not know what you've been told, but you are mistaken. Cort is not married."

Damon's gaze lingered on him. "That is not what I heard," he said. "After Brend MacRohan was struck by the arrow, he told Cort that he was glad the man had married his sister. Cort did not deny it. In fact, he told Brend that he loved her. I heard every word. Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you did not know this?"

Trenton didn't have a clue, but he didn't like Damon's tone. Nor did he like what he was being told.

It had nasty implications.

His first reaction was to order Damon out of his tent because he was too weary for the man's nonsense, but that wouldn't solve the issue. Damon was accusing Cort of something that had been illegal in England for over one hundred and fifty years, ever since the Statute of Kilkenny had been enacted by the Duke of Clarence preventing intermarrying of Irish and English. The punishment could be severe.

He took a moment to think carefully.

"I did not know this because it is not true," he said. "What you probably heard was my brother comforting a friend he believed to be dying. Surely you realize Brend MacRohan and his sister have lost most of their family in this siege. With Brend's injury, I am certain it was simply my brother trying to comfort the man, as misplaced as it was. I will speak to him and get to the bottom of it."

Damon eyed him for a moment, his hands still lifted above the brazier. His focus moved back to the glowing coals.

"Let us hope that was all it was," he said. "If your brother married an Irish lass, then the procedure is clear. Men like that are brought before justice to spend their lives in prison. It is considered treason."

Trenton stiffened. "My brother is not going to prison," he growled. "Make a move against him and you will put the House of de Russe against the House of de Winter, historical allies. Is that what you want to do?"

Damon backed down a little. "Of course not."

"Then still your lips and do not repeat what you have heard. You do not know the truth. Don't gossip like an alewife."

That was enough for Damon. Insulted, he fled the tent, leaving Trenton stewing with fury. Jaw ticking, he headed out of the tent. He was going to find Cort and straighten out the situation before rumors started to spread. He couldn't be sure Damon hadn't told others what he'd heard, or what he thought he'd heard, and he didn't want any animosity turning on Cort.

He was just heading out of the encampment when he caught sight of Dera MacRohan coming from one of the smaller tents where the more seriously wounded men had been taken, including her brother.

Trenton really hadn't paid much attention to the woman on their journey to Ireland. He wasn't the kind of man who inspected other women, especially since he was already married, but he had noticed that Dera was quite a beautiful woman. She had pale skin, a pert nose, and long reddish-blonde hair.

Just the kind of woman who would turn Cort's head.

With that realization, his walk towards Mount Wrath came to a pause as he passed her by.

"My lady," he greeted. "How is your brother this morning?"

Dera turned to him, forcing a smile. "Good morn to you, my lord," she said. "Brend is sleeping, but he took some water last night."

"That is a good sign," he said. "If I have not yet conveyed my sorrows on what has become of your family, then allow me to do so. You have my sympathies."

Her smile faded. "Thank you, my lord," she said. "This has been… difficult."

"And your brothers? The ones who survived captivity, I mean. How do they fare?"

She gestured towards the tent. "They are sleeping next to Brend," she said. "Declan will not leave him and Finn is actually sleeping under Brend's bed. He simply lays there and… weeps. I realize it is no secret that he aligned with the rebels, but he feels foolish and betrayed. We all feel very much betrayed."

Trenton didn't have the energy to get into that part of the conversation because it would be delving into hurts that should have never been there in the first place. Rebels got what they deserved, in his opinion, but even knowing what he did about Dera, who had made no secret of her loyalties according to Dillon and Brend, he didn't wish such misery upon her. She seemed like a pleasant enough woman.

Maybe his brother thought so, too.

"Hopefully, time will heal the wounds to a certain extent," he said, his thoughts shifting to Cort. "Good morn to you, my lady."

With that, he was gone, leaving Dera standing in the entryway of the tent as he continued down the road towards Mount Wrath.

From where the camp was situated, the very top of Mount Wrath's keep could be seen in the distance, over the treetops, so it wasn't a far trek to the castle itself. The road was rutted from the burden of the siege engines, which were being deconstructed by de Winter's men and made ready to haul away in their big wagons. Trenton was about halfway to the castle when he saw men heading in his direction.

He couldn't miss Cort, riding that high-strung blond stallion, so beautiful to look at but clearly young and in need of obedience. Even now, Cort was riding the horse with a heavy hand. Trenton could tell because the horse's neck was arched and its mouth open, an indication that Cort was doing his utmost to control the big beast. Coming to a halt, Trenton waited for Cort to come to him.

When Cort drew closer, he spied Trenton standing along the side of the road and waved wearily at the man. Boden and Gage were with him, on foot a safe distance from the foaming horse, and the three of them came alongside Trenton.

"The drawbridge is secure, for now," Cort said, reining the horse to a halt and slapping the animal's neck affectionately. "Only one section of it will support a man's weight, but it is raised and secured for now."

Trenton nodded. "Good work," he said. "What about the rest of the place?"

Cort climbed down off the horse, wringing his right hand, which told Trenton just how hard he'd been holding on to the reins.

"The bombardment was aimed at the keep, so that sustained the most damage," he said. "The walls on the first floor have holes in them. Some outbuildings sustained damage, but I would say overall, the damage is repairable but it will take time. That will have to be explained to Denys. We were able to recapture his castle, but not without serious damage."

Trenton nodded. "Dillon can deliver that report to his father," he said. "Our job is finished. We will rest the army and return to the ships and let the House of de Winter handle it from here. They can recover Black Cove without us, for I consider our job done."

Cort nodded. "Good enough," he said. Then, his expression tightened a bit. "How is Brend faring?"

Trenton grunted. "He is hanging on," he said. "His sister told me that he drank some salted water last night, so that is a good sign. Beyond that, I did not ask."

Cort nodded faintly. "Then I shall see him and give him a report about Mount Wrath before I sleep for a few hours," he said. "Have you slept at all?"

"Nay." Trenton paused before gesturing to the horse. "Give that beast over to Bo. I need to speak with you."

Cort dutifully handed the reins over to his brother, who took them happily. "If you do not see this horse for the next day or two, or me, know that we are together and having a wonderful time," he told Cort. "I have been eager to ride him."

Cort frowned. "Don't you take that horse anywhere," he said. "He had better be in the corral when I get back to camp or you will not like my reaction."

Gage began to pet the horse, admiring the big muscles and golden coat. "He's a beauty, Cort," he said. "Please let me try him."

"Nay. Keep your dirty mitts of my horse."

"I heard you stole it from Damien de Winter."

"Whoever told you that is lying."

"Dillon did."

"He is lying. I will tell him to his face."

Snickering like naughty boys, Boden and Gage began to lead the horse back towards the encampment, declaring that Vulcan liked them better, loud enough for Cort to hear. He rolled his eyes at his greedy younger brothers.

"We should have drowned those two at birth," he said. "I forget why we did not. Something about Mother loving them, I suppose."

Trenton grinned. "I thought the same thing about you."

Cort looked surprise. " Me? I was the perfect child."

"You were a terror."

Cort flashed him that all too familiar cheeky grin. "You love me. Admit it."

Trenton nodded, his smile fading. "I do love you," he said. "Which is why I must ask you a question and you will be completely truthful with me."

"I always am."

"Did you marry Brend MacRohan's sister?"

Cort lost all of his humor in an instant. He stared at Trenton a moment before nodding his head. Very little hesitation, only surprise. He'd promised to be truthful and he wasn't in the habit of lying to his beloved older brother, no matter how shocked he was.

"I did."

It was Trenton's turn to stare at him in shock. "Did you really?"

"I told you I did."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

Trenton simply looked at him. For a moment, he had no idea what to say. In truth, he hadn't expected that answer and was in no way prepared for it. He was a man of supreme control, but this was pushing it. Badly. He lifted a hand, scratching his head in a bewildered manner.

"And when did you think to tell anyone?"

Cort took a step towards him, lowering his voice. "After I told Papa," he said quietly. "Trenton, let me explain something to you. I am not a man to act on a whim. I think you know that. So when I tell you I love Dera with all my heart, I hope you will understand. You have a wife that you love. Now, so do I."

Trenton could feel his heart start to pound. The reality of what his beloved young brother had done was beginning to settle on him and he could feel horror rising in his chest.

"But this is no ordinary marriage, Cort," he said. "You know this. Your wife is Irish."

"I am aware."

"You have broken the law."

"And that is why we will keep the marriage secret," Cort said. "I must speak with Papa and he will tell me how to proceed. What I want to know is how you found out."

So much for control. Trenton exploded. "You would burden our dying father with this… this folly ?" he hissed. "Are you truly so selfish, Cort? How dare you throw this weight on the shoulders of a man who should not have to bear this. You made a mistake and now you want Papa to fix it? I cannot believe what I am hearing!"

Surprisingly, Cort didn't rise to his brother's anger, but he very well could have. "When have I ever been selfish, Trenton?" he asked steadily. "When? If I recall, your behavior towards women has not been perfect, either. Have I been married four times like you have, losing wives before falling in love with Matthew Wellesbourne's daughter and expecting Papa to convince the man to allow Lysabel to be my mistress before she was ever my wife? Well? Did I do that?"

Trenton stiffened, his smoky eyes blazing. "Don't you bring her into this."

"You did it when you called me selfish," Cort snapped. "You haven't exactly been a saintly example, so do not throw this back on me like I'm the only one who has ever done anything terrible to Papa."

Trenton's jaw was ticking dangerously. "At least I did not do anything illegal, something that could potentially take down the House of de Russe," he said. "How do you think Henry is going to respond to this? It's considered treason."

Cort shook his head. He refused to let Trenton make him feel guilty, but he increasingly found himself fighting off exactly that– guilt .

"I will face Henry with it," he said. "I will take the burden alone and save your precious dukedom, Trenton. Have no fear; Henry will not strip us of our lands and Warminster will be yours when the time comes."

It was a low blow and Trenton stopped his angry posturing. He looked at Cort, wounded. "You did not mean what you just said."

Cort could see that he'd gone too far, forcing himself to avert his gaze. "Nay," he said hoarsely. "I did not mean it. Forgive me. But I am not sorry I married her, Trenton. Say what you will about me, but I love her. Surely you understand that. I will face the consequences."

Trenton's anger was cooling, turning into something sad and desperate. "You will lose everything you've worked for."

"Nothing I have worked for matters if I do not have Dera."

"It is quite possible that Henry will separate you two and have the marriage annulled," Trenton said pleadingly. "That may be the only way he doesn't punish you for being a traitor."

"I am not a traitor," Cort said, sensing his brother's fear and concern. "But I will say this; if Henry tries to punish me, I will come back to Ireland and I will fight for the Irish. I will not be loyal to a king who would destroy me because of some stupid law that is ridiculous and savage."

Trenton didn't know what to say. He was so distressed that he realized he was close to tears. He loved Cort dearly. The man was strong and brave and true, but he was also in love with a woman he was forbidden to have. Much like their father had those years ago with their mother, Cort would not relinquish the woman he loved, not for the church, not for the king. Not for anyone.

It had come to that.

He closed his eyes tightly and turned away.

"You asked me who told me about your marriage," he said hoarsely. "Damon de Winter did. He heard Brend speak to you about it, evidently. Damon will tell. He will not let this go unnoticed and he will spread your secret."

Cort's jaw ticked. "Not if I kill him first."

Trenton reached out and grabbed his arm. "Kill an earl? You will not. You will be in worse trouble that you are now." He paused, but he kept a grip on his brother. "Cort, I know you are friends with Henry. I know that Papa has Henry under his control. But this is a battle you cannot win. Henry will not make an exception for you."

Cort didn't want to hear that. "Mayhap with time he will."

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Trenton looked at him. "Are you willing to return to England and present the situation to Henry and take that chance? I cannot imagine it will go well for you, not to mention the fact of how horrible a burden it will be on Papa. Don't you understand? You cannot return home."

Cort's emotions were beginning to get the better of him. "But if we keep it a secret…"

"For how long?" Trenton said. "For the rest of your life? What of Dera? Where will she live and who will take care of her? She is Irish, but she is a ward of de Winter. He has the power to marry her off to an Irish ally. If he does not know she is married, who is to say he will not do that?"

Cort's jaw began ticking. "Then I will tell him so he knows."

Trenton shook his head. "Cort, think . You would burden de Winter with the knowledge of a secret marriage? An illegal marriage? Then you put him in the position of keeping the information from Henry and jeopardizing his position as well. Would you really do that?"

Cort wouldn't. He averted his gaze, realizing that this situation was already out of control. He thought he could control it, at least contain it, but with Damon having knowledge of the marriage, that more than likely would not be possible.

"I will speak with Damon," he said quietly. "I will explain that he must not…"

"Damon already wants to arrest you," Trenton said frankly. "Based on what he heard, he is ready to. Speaking to him will do no good."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

Trenton looked at him; really looked at him. "Is this marriage worth it? It was done in secret. It can be annulled…"

"We have consummated it. And it is worth everything."

"Even your future?"

"She is my future."

Trenton put his hand to his head as if to hold in the pain that was threatening to burst forth. He turned to Cort, reaching out to pull the man into his embrace. For a moment, he simply stood there and held him.

"When you were born, I was almost ten years of age," he said, his throat tight with emotion. "Arica and Adeliza were crawling around and I had no interest in those smelly girl babies. And then I had a brother. I was so excited. Dane was my brother, but only by marriage. Not by blood. You were my first blood brother and I remember when Mother let me hold you for the first time. I was scared to do it but then I looked into your face and you were looking up at me with these wide, trusting eyes. I cannot explain it better than that. I knew at that moment that I would always protect you, no matter what. You are so special to me, Cortland Henry Hubert, that I cannot even tell you."

Cort's eyes were filling with tears. He and Trenton were nearly the same size, two giant men embracing on the side of the road, but at that moment, Cort felt like a child again. He'd positively adored his big brother back then. He still did. He sniffled, trying very hard not to weep.

"You went to foster when I was so young, but I remember following you and Dane around," he said. "I have a memory of sitting with you two on the shore of the lake near Deverill, and you would jump into the water and catch silver fish that I could take back to Mother. You told her I caught them myself."

Trenton had his forehead against the side of Cort's head. "I remember," he smiled faintly. "You were very proud of them."

"You gave me that pride, Trenton. You always gave me that pride, that help when I needed it. I know you are trying to help me now." He lost his battle with the tears. "I am not going to give up Dera, so tell me what I should do."

Trenton sighed heavily. "We must protect Papa at all costs. His health is so fragile. He will want to intervene in this if you return home and his health cannot stand it."

"Tell me what to do and I shall do it."

Trenton gave his brother a squeeze. "You must leave here, today," he said. "The longer you remain, the more chance there is of Damon ordering your arrest. I would be powerless to help if he did that."

"I understand."

Trenton let him go. "Papa gave me Chateau Melesse last year," he said. "You know where it is. You have been there before."

Cort nodded, wiping at his eyes. "In Brittany."

"There is also Chateau Gael and Chateau Ruffec, near Limoges."

"I know them both, as I have been to them both."

"Papa still owns Chateau Gael and Chateau Ruffec, but Melesse is mine," Trenton said. "I want you to go there, as my garrison commander. Your marriage will be legal in France, so go there and stay there. If marriage to Dera is what you really want, then go where you can enjoy it."

Cort looked at him in surprise. "You would give me command of Melesse?"

Trenton nodded. "When I become the Duke of Warminster, I will give it to you. It will become your property. It comes with the title of Baron le Chenay."

Cort stared at him, speechless for a moment. He was truly overwhelmed with his brother's generosity. "Trenton, I do not know what to say," he said. "To thank you seems wholly insufficient."

"Then you will take Dera and go?"

Cort hesitated before nodding his head. "I will go," he said. "But I must tell Papa…"

Trenton cut him off. " I will tell Papa," he said. "I will tell him that you married a woman you were not permitted to marry. Given that he had fallen in love with a forbidden woman, he will understand. But he will also take comfort in knowing you are safe."

Cort still seemed hesitant, lowering his gaze until he was looking at his de Russe tunic, the de Russe dragon shield. He fingered it lovingly.

"You are right," he said tightly. "I am selfish. I thought… I truly thought I could return to England and with Papa's help, seek permission from Henry for this marriage. It's his fault, you know. He's the one who told me to seduce Dera to gain the secrets of the Irish rebels. He forced me to pursue the woman, but once I did, I realized she was no ordinary woman. So this is really all his fault."

"Is that what you were going to tell Henry?"

"Absolutely."

Trenton's lips rippled with a smile. "Then when I speak to him on your behalf, I will tell him that."

Cort looked at him. "You will speak with him?"

Trenton nodded, his smile fading. "I would prefer not to burden Papa with this if we can help it. Would you agree?"

Cort nodded with resignation. "Aye," he said. "But what about Mother?"

"I will tell her. She will keep it from Papa, but I should tell her."

Cort was back to looking at his tunic again. "Tell her… tell her I love her."

"I will."

As he looked at his tunic, tears began to pop from his eyes. Trenton reach out, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly.

Cort stroked the dirty, woolen tunic. "I never wanted to bring shame to this standard but I cannot help what I feel," he said. "Tell me I haven't, Trenton. Tell me I have not become a traitor to the House of de Russe."

Trenton put his hand on the man's lowered head. "No more than Papa did when he turned on Richard at the Battle of Bosworth," he said. "Do not forget that Papa understands rebels and traitors. Those terms are synonymous with the de Russe name."

Cort looked at him, a smile on his face and tears on his cheeks. "Thank you, Trenton. For everything… thank you."

Trenton bent over, kissing the man on the temple. "Now, you must get out of here," he said. "I can hold Damon off, but not for long. I want you to gather your things, including that terror of a horse, and your wife and get to Dublin. You can arrange transport to Brittany from there."

Cort nodded, following Trenton as the man tugged on him to get him heading back to the encampment.

"Dera will not want to leave Brend," he said. "It is going to be difficult for her."

Trenton had a grip on his brother as if fearful he would resist him. "Brend will live or die whether or not she remains," he said. "She must understand that. If she loves you, she will go."

Cort looked at him. "If Brend survives, will you do something for him?"

"If you wish it."

"He loves Arabella de Winter," he said quietly. "They have loved each other for some time. She cannot marry him because he is Irish, but if he survives this… will you make sure Denys sends Brend to France with Bella? I know it is not your battle, nor your place, but I have watched Brend and Bella struggle with the same thing Dera and I struggled with. Brend and Bella deserve to be happy, too."

"For you, I will do what I can. But I am more concerned with you right now, so let us be swift about this."

They made it back to the encampment relatively quickly, which was alive with men moving about as the morning deepened. Off to the east where they were keeping the horses corralled, Cort could see Gage astride Vulcan and the horse giving his brother a terrible time. He frowned deeply, which brought laughter from Trenton, who assured him he would save the horse from their younger brothers and ensure it was ready for travel. As Trenton headed off, Cort went into the tent where he last saw Brend.

It was dark and warm inside, courtesy of a brazier that was burning heavily. He caught sight of Dera next to Brend's bed along with two other men. Cort recognized them as Declan and Finn MacRohan. Dera caught sight of him as he approached Brend's bed.

"My lord," she greeted him formally. "You honor us with your visit."

Cort forced a smile, his gaze moving between Dera and Brend. "How is Brend faring?"

Dera stood up from the stool she'd been sitting on next to his bed. "He sleeps," she said simply. "The physic has given him a potion called rotten tea, which is supposed to aid in keeping the poison away. The last time he awoke, I was able to give him some."

Cort nodded, looking down at his pale friend. "That is good to hear. We are all quite worried for him."

His gaze moved to the other two MacRohan brothers, who were both looking up at him. Declan, the next oldest brother to Brend, was an enormous brute with hair so blond that it was white and eyes of the purest blue. When he smiled, he had the same gap-toothed smile that Brend had. He stood up, facing Cort on his feet.

"My sister tells us that you have been instrumental in helping Brend and that you are a great friend," he said in his heavy Irish accent. "I would like to thank you, my lord."

Cort remembered Dera telling him that Declan was loyal to de Winter so he gave the man a brief nod. His gaze moved to Finn, still on the ground, who didn't seem quite so polite. He was younger than Dera, with her red hair and pale skin, but he seemed either too traumatized or too insolent to speak. When their gazes met, Finn simply lowered his eyes and looked away.

Perhaps it was all out of guilt.

Whatever the case, there was no time to waste. Cort had come for a purpose. He motioned to Dera.

"A word, please, my lady?" he said.

She nodded swiftly and followed him out of the tent. Cort looked around to make sure they weren't being watched as he took her by the elbow and led her around the rear of the tent, trying to find a place that was semi-private.

"We are leaving now," he whispered to her. "I have just spoken to Trenton and he tells me that Damon de Winter knows of our marriage and he is already speaking of my arrest, so you must gather your satchel now."

Dera's eyes widened. "He knows ?" she gasped. "How does he know?"

Cort didn't look happy. "When Brend was first wounded, he spoke of the marriage," he said. "Damon overheard him. I knew he had, but I did not think he would pursue it. I was wrong. Trenton is sending us to his holding of Chateau Melesse in France. I am to assume my post as his garrison commander with my lovely Irish wife."

Dera looked frightened and was trying hard not to. "Then we really are leaving."

"We are."

"But what of Brend? He needs to be tended and…"

He cut her of gently. "Declan can do it," he said. "Sweetheart, I know you want to, but we cannot stay. If we do, de Winter will have me arrested for entering into an illegal marriage and I have no idea what he'll do with you, so we have no choice."

Dera shook off her shock and hesitation. "Of course," she said. "I will gather my things immediately. Where should I meet you?"

He looked around, to the trees to the west of the encampment. "Over there," he said. "We must take the road to Dublin and find transport from there. I will gather my things, and the horse, and find you there. But whatever you do– stay away from Damon de Winter's tent and his knights. I have no idea what he has told them, if anything, and I cannot risk you falling into their hands because they would probably use you against me."

She was trying not to look fearful again. "May I say farewell to my brothers?"

He shook his head. "Nay," he said. "They will want to know why and you cannot tell them. You must go right now to get your satchel. Do not stop to talk to anyone."

She was blinking back tears. "I will not," she said. "France… we are truly going to France?"

He smiled faintly. "France and a new life," he said. "We can live there without fear. We knew this could happen, Dera… surely you knew."

She nodded. "I told you that I would go to the moon as long as we could be together," she said. "I meant it."

"Good lass," he said softly. "Now, go. Hurry. I will gather my things and meet you to the west."

Without another word, Dera bolted off. Cort watched her go before going about his own tasks, gathering his saddlebags and possessions, making sure he had his coin purse. He was going to need it.

But the one thing he did was remove his de Russe standard. When he next saw Trenton, who was in the corral with Vulcan, he handed it over to the man and told him to give it to Gaston. He had nothing else to give his father other than his love and the tunic he wore proudly on behalf of the Duke of Warminster. Cort wasn't sure when, or if, he would ever wear it again, but he wanted his father to have it. Something he'd held up against his body, something his father would touch in return.

As he handed it over to Trenton, he tried not to weep. It was entirely possible that he would never see his father alive again and the tunic was the only thing he had of his father to remind him of the man's great legacy. But Cort had made a choice for his life and it was to follow his heart.

He hoped his father would understand that.

Embracing Trenton one last time, as well as Boden and Gage, who had no real idea why he was leaving, Cort set out upon Damien de Winter's warhorse to gather his wife and find a new life with her, away from his family, away from his beloved England. But he did not regret the decision.

He'd made it for love.

When Trenton told Gaston what had happened several weeks later, Gaston did indeed understand.

And he wept.