Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Isobel was astonished at how quickly everyone was ready to depart. She had scarcely begun searching for suitable clothing to take when Cristina entered and said that her own maid, Brona, had already packed much of what Isobel would need.

"Knowing that you would return barely in time to leave, and not knowing if you'd think to have new gowns made up at Chalamine, I had several made for you here," she said. "You will doubtless want to try them on, but Brona or Mairi's Meg can attend to any adjustments for you at Duart or Kirkwall."

"Thank you," Isobel said. "Adela did arrange for me to have three new gowns made up at Chalamine, but I left them behind with my maidservant."

"Aye, well, I have been preparing for this journey all summer," Cristina said. "So at least you'll have a new dress for your wedding as all brides should."

"To assure them of good fortune in marriage," Isobel said with a grin. "You sound nearly as superstitious as Father."

"Most people are superstitious about something, and nearly everyone is when it comes to weddings," Cristina protested. "At ours, Aunt Euphemia gave Hector a silver coin to put in his shoe, and she rarely pays heed to such stuff."

Isobel chuckled. "Much good the coin did him."

Cristina smiled. "He may have thought as much then, Mistress Impudence, but I do not think he thinks so anymore. Now," she said, "I've had Brona see to your packing, but you will want to look through your things to be sure we're leaving nothing behind that you will need." She smiled and gave Isobel a hug as she added, "After all, I was not expecting you to marry before we journeyed to Kirkwall."

With another hug, she left Isobel to her tasks and went to hurry the others. In little more than an hour, thanks to Hector's habit of being always ready to respond to trouble, twelve ships and their passengers were ready to depart, and in the swift galleys, the journey took little more than three hours. As they approached the small harbor below Duart Castle, they heard bells ringing the hour of Compline.

The wind had died to near stillness less than an hour before, and the clouds had likewise dissipated to reveal an oval moon high overhead. The castle, on its high promontory where the Sound of Mull converged with Loch Linnhe and the Firth of Lorn, looked silvery in the dusky gray moonlight.

Despite the late hour, the harbor and the hillside above it teemed with armed men, and galleys patrolled the waters of the Sound and the Firth.

They found their host and hostess still up, and after Hector explained that new circumstances warranted discussion, Lachlan nodded, saying, "Mairi can take the women upstairs and get them settled, whilst you and I and Sir Michael adjourn to my inner chamber, where no one will disturb us. I trust that you have all supped."

"Aye, hours ago," Hector said. His gaze met Michael's, and he added, "Isobel will stay with us."

Lachlan looked from one to the other, then nodded without comment.

"Mayhap we should all stay," Mairi suggested.

This time Lachlan exchanged a look with his twin before he said, "Nay, lass. You'll do more good by seeing that our lady guests and their maids are comfortable. I've a notion that at least some of us may be leaving for the north in the morning."

"Aye," Hector said. "I'm thinking we'll want as large a flotilla as possible."

Lachlan nodded again, then said to his wife, "Tell the lads to begin making ready, and find someone to send a message to Ardtornish. If your mother does not wish to depart with the flotilla, she need only say so and I'll make special arrangements for her. What?" he asked, turning again to face Hector as if that gentleman had spoken.

"Before you send any message to Ardtornish, you should all know that our Isobel has accepted Sir Michael's offer of marriage. In view of his grace's ill health, and the fact that the lass would do better to travel north as Sir Michael's wife, the sooner their marriage can take place, the better it will be."

"Aye, that's true, for it will hush the rumormongers," Mairi said, hurrying forward to hug Isobel. "I'm pleased that you made this decision, my dear."

"If they are to marry before going north, they must do so at Ardtornish or here at Duart," Hector said. "I thought his grace's chaplain might oblige us."

"An excellent notion," Lachlan said, adding to his lady, "Go along now, lass. Send your Ian to Ardtornish with those messages, and tell one of the lads in the hall to see that we are not disturbed." He glanced again at Hector. "What of Macleod? Does he know about this wedding?"

"Nay," Hector said. "I'm thinking we'd best stop at Glenelg on the way."

Lachlan nodded, and before Isobel had time to absorb their matter-of-fact reaction to her news, she was sitting between Hector and Michael at the long table in the inner chamber that Lachlan generally used to meet his many informants and to confer with the friends and allies of MacDonald of the Isles.

Lachlan sat at the head of the table, saying, "You've heard, I expect, that there are strangers about, several galleys at least, lying just outside the west end of the Sound near Mingary."

"Aye," Hector said. "Sir Michael was going to sail west because he feared that his enemies might be lying in wait, but I did not think it wise for him to go so near the Holy Isle, so we all came here."

Isobel noted another look between the twins. She knew from past experience that Lachlan suspected that Hector was leaving out details, and from the warmth in her cheeks, she realized that her blushes would tell him that those details pertained to her and thus probably to her sudden decision to marry. But he made no comment other than to say, "You were wise to bring them here."

"Aye, sure," Hector said.

Lachlan turned to Michael and said, "I had thought to deal with the intruders myself, but since you'd told Hector earlier that your enemies believe you possess something that the Kirk insists should be returned to Rome, I thought perhaps I'd wait to learn more. I'm hoping you can oblige me."

"Aye, sir, I'll do my best," Michael said. "'Tis true that they suspect my family possesses such a thing."

"And you have said that you know not what that item is."

"That is also true, my lord. I do know, however, that whatever is missing has links to the past, because my father said we had a solemn duty to keep St. Clair business within the family, to guard our secrets well. He said that my grandfather of heroic memory laid that duty upon us, and in truth, I doubt that my father would approve of my confiding even what little I have to you and Hector Reaganach."

"We are honored by your confidence, sir, and give you our word that nothing you tell us will go farther unless you grant us express permission. Am I to understand that the secrets you spoke of begin no farther back than two generations?"

"I believe so, but I know only that such secrets exist. I do not know what they are, nor does my brother."

"Are you certain of that? Henry is the elder, after all, and your father's heir."

"Aye, sir, but I would know if he were lying to me. He has a strong sense of honor. Moreover, he told me that our father said once that when Henry came of age, he would have to bear the responsibility of keeping those secrets, that our father would explain them then. But he died before that day came, and anyone else who may know or suspect what the secrets are has not shared his knowledge with us."

"I see." Lachlan frowned thoughtfully.

Isobel easily followed that train of thought, however, and said eagerly, "You are thinking of your father, are you not, sir? Michael, I'm sure I told you about Ian Dubh's interest in historical matters. Most likely, he knows more about such things than all of us together and may well have an idea about what it is you seek."

"My father is here at Duart now," Lachlan said, getting to his feet. "He is Chief of Clan Gillean, and I must tell you, I took the liberty this morning of briefly describing your troubles to him so he might ponder them, but you can trust him as you trust us. With your permission now, I'll invite him to join our discussion."

Looking from one earnest face to the next, Michael felt as if things were quickly spinning beyond his control, and he was by no means sure he liked it. However, even Isobel's curiosity was no match for his where the subject of the family's secret was concerned. He assumed it was something hidden, some object that bore importance to St. Clairs and to others, too, but what exactly it was and where it might lie hidden were matters beyond his ken. Moreover, despite Lachlan Lubanach's courtesy, that gentleman clearly assumed that Michael would agree.

"I'd welcome Ian Dubh's advice, sir," he said. "Please ask him to join us."

Isobel shifted her weight beside him, stirring other thoughts in his head and feelings in his body that had nothing to do with his family's mystery.

While Lachlan went to the door to ask the gillie outside to fetch Ian Dubh, Michael casually moved the hand nearest Isobel to his lap and then to her thigh, startling her. He was amused to note that although her leg jumped, her expression gave nothing away. But his amusement quickly shifted to a suspicion that she had flirted with other men in just such an inappropriate manner. He remembered, too, the ease with which she had flirted with Hugo and even with the villain Fin Wylie in the cavern.

Firmly reminding himself that the flirtation with Fin Wylie, at least, had been a matter of self-defense, he told himself that she was too much of an innocent to have dabbled beyond flirtation with Hugo or any other man, not to mention that she was too fond of her own freedom to have enticed others to think she might willingly have accepted their advances.

Her hand touched his just then, but a moment later an elderly man entered, and Michael quickly arose with the others to greet him. Ian Dubh's quick stride and upright posture belied his gray hair and apparent age. He was thin and neither as tall nor as broad as his sons, but Michael saw at once that he was no milksop.

"This is Sir Michael St. Clair, Father, the gentleman I mentioned to you this morning," Lachlan said. "He has offered for our Isobel, and she has accepted him. We are hoping that you can help him solve this puzzle of his."

Ian Dubh's grip was firm, his smile welcoming. "'Tis a good match," he said. "You are Master of Roslin, are you not, and grandson of Sir William St. Clair, who accompanied Sir James Douglas and Robert Logan on their ill-fated attempt to carry the Bruce's heart to Jerusalem?"

"I do have that honor, sir," Michael said.

"But I heard that Sir Henry's father was the one who carried Bruce's heart, sir, and fought beside him at Bannockburn, too," Isobel said.

"Nay, lass," Michael said. "Henry wasn't born until fifteen years after Bruce's death, and my grandfather's, come to that. Our father died thirteen years later."

"Many make that mistake, Isobel," Ian Dubh said. "When a man is famous, it is natural for those who talk of him to paint him in ever more glorious ways, as if boasting of such knowledge somehow links them more closely with him. Sir Michael's father was also Sir William St. Clair. He died in a fall from a horse."

"He was a soldier, too, though," Michael said.

"Indeed, he was, like his father and grandfather," Ian Dubh said. He looked as if he would say more, but he glanced at Lachlan and Hector instead, then back at Michael, before he said, "I think perhaps you will want to speak more of this alone, lad."

Michael looked at Hector and Lachlan, too, hesitant to agree if it might make him appear rude to them.

Isobel had been watching Michael carefully, and she understood his discomfort in the face of his growing audience. Nevertheless, it took nearly all the strength of mind she possessed to speak now. Quietly, she said to no one in particular, "It is Michael's secret, after all. Mayhap he should know what it is, if indeed Ian Dubh can tell him, before we all share in it."

Hector had stiffened at his father's suggestion, and her words only made him stiffen up more. Lachlan, too, looked about to protest.

Before either of them could say a word, Ian Dubh said in a tone Isobel had rarely heard from him, "I will speak to Sir Michael alone."

"Isobel must stay, sir," Michael said firmly.

Looking annoyed, Ian Dubh said, "As she is to be your wife, that is your decision to make, lad, but I would caution you. Such secrets are not the province of women. Not only might she inadvertently betray you, but should these enemies of yours suspect that she shares your confidence, her life might be in danger."

"I believe she will be safer knowing, sir. Moreover, I gave her my word."

"Then there is no more to be said. You two may leave us, however," he said to his sons.

Without another word, they left the chamber.

Isobel watched in wonder until the door had shut behind them.

Ian Dubh said evenly, "You are surprised that they left, lass?"

She nodded and then, recollecting herself, turned back to him and said, "Yes, sir. I did not think they would go, or that they would allow me to stay if they did."

"I am still Chief of Clan Gillean, Isobel, for all that Lachlan has taken over most of my duties these past years. I allow you to stay only because Sir Michael commands your presence and, as I understand it, has every right now to do so."

"Do you think you know what my enemies seek, sir?" Michael asked.

"Before I answer that, I think Isobel should know that your father, like his before him, was not just a soldier but a Knight Templar and thus a very fine soldier indeed. One must suppose that you and Sir Henry are Templars, too, are you not?"

Despite long experience, the rush of dismay that Michael felt was such that for once he failed to control his features, and his mouth dropped open before he could prevent it. Warily, he said, "The Order of Knights Templar no longer exists, sir. It ceased to do so long before I was born. Moreover, I am a man of peace."

The old man's blue eyes twinkled. "Sakes, lad, you need not hide your teeth with me, unless you do so for the lass's sake, in which case, I apologize, but you did say she was to hear all."

Michael glanced at Isobel, saw her eyes narrow, and said hastily, "I have no wish to hide anything from her ladyship. But nor will I make any claim to be a Templar. My grandfather had that honor, as his tombstone at Roslin Castle attests, and my father was a fine soldier, thanks to similar training. But I was only five when he died, scarcely old enough to benefit from his skills."

Ian Dubh looked speculatively at him, but Michael had himself in hand again and met the look easily. He had said nothing that was untrue, and the exchange did not affect his promise to Isobel.

Isobel looked from Michael to Ian Dubh and back again. Clearly, the older man did not believe Michael, but Michael seemed sincere. She had heard of the Knights Templar, because both Lady Euphemia and Ian Dubh had occasionally spoken of them in describing historical events, but she knew little about them.

Ian Dubh took a seat on the other side of the table from them and gazed thoughtfully at Michael before saying, "You may disclaim the connection, lad, but I believe the information you seek lies in the history of the Order."

"But the Pope declared the Knights heretics, ordered their arrest, and disbanded the Order more than seventy years ago," Michael said.

"Those arrests took place primarily in France, at the order of King Philippe le Bel," Ian Dubh said. "He'd already done away with two popes and controlled a third, but he did not control the Knights Templar. He owed them a vast amount of money that he did not want to repay, which is why he sought to control the papacy."

Michael said, "With respect, sir—"

But Ian Dubh went on firmly, "The Order was never dissolved in Scotland because the papal bulls dissolving it were never proclaimed here. Even if they had been, how much sway do you think the Bishop of Rome commanded here, especially since he had excommunicated Robert the Bruce the year before?"

"Probably none," Michael said, "but we have little time for history lessons if Lady Isobel and I are to marry before we head north, sir, and my enemies are lying in wait for us even now. With respect, what is it that you believe they seek?"

"They seek the treasure, of course," Ian Dubh said.

Isobel gasped. "What treasure?"

"Besides being the best soldiers ever known, the Templars also provided the world's largest banking organization," Ian Dubh explained. "Men could deposit funds with them in Scotland or England, and with no more than a letter, could draw equivalent funds from the Order in countries as far away as the Holy Land. Thus, they did not have to carry their riches with them. The Templars could provide such a service because their temples and preceptories safeguarded much of the world's wealth as well as the Order's own wealth, amassed throughout its history."

"But if they were heretics …" She glanced uncertainly at Michael, knowing that she spoke not just about Templars in general now but also his grandfather.

Ian Dubh said, "'Twas not their heresy that undid them, lass, if such heresy ever existed. 'Twas the huge loans they made to world rulers, men such as Philip of France, who did not want to repay them. At the time of the Templars' downfall, Philip controlled Pope Clement as completely as if His Holiness had been a puppet rather than a man. The moment he received word that Clement would cooperate, Philip ordered the arrest of all Knights Templar in France and sent his men to seize their Paris treasury. But the treasure had vanished, along with most of the French Templars. Their great fleet at La Rochelle had vanished, as well."

"Where did they go?"

He smiled. "Most would say that no one knows."

"You will not say that, however," she said confidently.

"I cannot say that I know more than that," he said. "But I can tell you that when I was very young, my father was constable of Tarbert Castle, and late one dark, mist-filled night when I was supposed to be in bed, I saw a number of strange ships moving so silently on the loch that they looked like ghosts, because towboats pulled them. I learned that my father knew of their presence, and therefore I believed that I would learn more myself, but when the sun arose the next morning those ships had vanished, and my father not only denied knowledge of their presence but punished me for having slipped out during the night without permission."

"But where could they have gone?"

"Sakes, they could have gone anywhere, but you will perhaps recall that, for years, I've studied documents pertaining to matters from Robert the Bruce's time."

"Aye, of course," she said.

Turning to Michael, he said, "I'll show you some of those documents. They provide only vague references to the Paris treasury but suggest that your grandfather assumed its guardianship and arranged for its transport to Scotland with the permission of his grace's father, Angus Og. Angus Og had won fealty from many Isles clans by then, particularly south of the Isle of Skye. Little occurred in these waters that he did not learn about as quickly as Lachlan Lubanach's vast network of informants collects information now for his grace. He would certainly have known of any strangers' ships, especially since the most likely route for them to have taken to Loch Tarbert would have taken them first through the Sound of Isla, near Angus Og's primary seat at Finlaggan. Had those ships not been welcome, he would have dealt with them before ever they reached Loch Tarbert."

"And such an incident would be widely known now, in bards' tales and the like, so he must have welcomed them and kept it quiet," Michael said thoughtfully.

"Aye, and Robert the Bruce welcomed military aid from Scottish Templars, including members of your family. No Scottish Templar was ever executed or imprisoned, because Bruce, being excommunicate, had no reason to comply with orders from Rome, if such orders were even issued to excommunicates."

Isobel had been thinking about the Templar treasury. "Much of the world's wealth, sir? Could even a fleet of ships have carried so much?"

"Their fleet was said to be enormous, lass. Documents show that at least eighteen were at La Rochelle, whilst many others were going about their business elsewhere and did not return."

"But where could they all have gone?" she asked.

"Templar ships provided transport for many goods that the people of the Isles export, particularly for our petrol oil, which has for years been used throughout Britain, Europe, and elsewhere as sacred oil in the kirks. Ships that provide that transport now are often St. Clair ships," he added with a pointed look at Michael.

"But why would the Templars bring such a treasure to the Isles?" she asked Michael. "Was your grandfather an Islesman?"

"Nay, he lived at Roslin Castle, in Lothian, ten miles south of Edinburgh."

"True," Ian Dubh said. "But recall that at the time the English controlled Scotland from Edinburgh south. Bruce had not yet vanquished them, so it would have been safer to hide the treasure here in the Isles then and move it inland later."

Michael sighed. "But I'm guessing from what you've said that your documents say naught of where they hid it or where it might be now."

"Nay, but what about your own? Every noble family possesses muniments, documentation of titles, grants of land, and so forth. Have you examined yours?"

Michael nodded. "Henry and I have read everything we could find at Roslin. In truth, not much is there beyond the grant for the castle, documents pertaining to the barony, my mother's marriage settlements, and a few decisions of the baron's court. Henry is also Baron of Roslin," he added in an aside to Isobel. "My title, Master of Roslin, is merely a styling that will redound to Henry's son when he has one."

"For that matter," Ian Dubh said with a smile, "your title will change when Henry officially becomes Earl of Orkney, as he'll be known here. As I understand it, that was part of the arrangement Henry made with the King of Scots."

Michael nodded.

"What sort of arrangement was that?" Isobel asked.

Michael remained silent, but Ian Dubh said, "Sir Henry will retain many of the privileges that accompany a princedom, lass. For example, he will be able to issue his own coins and exercise judicial authority within his realm. Sir Michael, as his brother and a potential heir, will be known as Lord Michael St. Clair of Roslin."

"That is not important, however, because Henry will soon produce his own heirs, and I have no wish to be a prince or Earl of Orkney," Michael said.

"You are wise, lad, for such titles come with more responsibility than one might suppose," Ian Dubh said. "Moreover, there were other claimants to the princedom, and the Norse King demanded a promise of loyalty to himself, not to mention payment of an amount that is far more than most men possess."

"The princedom is Henry's concern," Michael said. "Mine appears to be this supposed treasure. Can you tell me more about it, sir? Of what does it consist?"

"I don't know," Ian Dubh admitted. "I can tell you only that any number of Islesmen must have known about the ships that carried it here, if not more about the treasure itself. That no one speaks of it now is testament to the influence that both Angus Og and Bruce had, and to the loyalty that Islesmen extend now to his grace. If you like, you may come to my chamber and have a look at those documents. I have made fair copies of several, which I will give to you, but I warrant your best hope of discovering the whole truth lies at Roslin. I doubt you'd find anything in Caithness, since that property came to your family through your mother."

Michael turned to Isobel. "Do you want to see the documents, lass?"

She shook her head, unexpectedly overwhelmed by all she had learned. Ian Dubh's explanation of Michael's position revealed that she had not perfectly understood it before. The plain fact that he was brother to a man who would become a Norse prince had meant little to her. Even learning of his brother's wealth had not fazed her, because a man's wealth did not necessarily mean that his siblings were likewise wealthy. Moreover, never having felt its lack, she had little interest in money. But to learn that Michael was potentially heir to that princedom and that his children might likewise inherit it, however small that chance might be, was another matter entirely, and one that she needed to think about with great care.

She knew that she ought to tell him at once of her concern, but he and Ian Dubh were discussing the latter's documents in greater detail, and she did not want to interrupt, especially to discuss the subject now foremost in her mind.

"If you will excuse me," she said, standing, only half aware that she had inadvertently interrupted Ian Dubh midsentence, "I will bid you both a good night, because tomorrow looks as if it will be a long and perhaps difficult day."

Both men stood when she did, and Michael said, "I'll escort you to your chamber, my lady, before I meet Ian Dubh in his."

"Pray do not trouble yourself, sir," she said. "I share a room with my aunt when we visit Duart, and I know my way."

"Nevertheless, I will escort you," he said firmly. Turning to Ian Dubh, he said, "I can easily find someone to direct me to your chamber, sir, so I shan't keep you waiting long."

"I'm a patient man," Ian Dubh said. Then, giving Isobel a measuring look, he added, "Sleep well, lassie. If Lachlan has taken over the arrangements for your wedding, I warrant it will take place soon after you wake in the morning."

"Aye, sir," she said, making a brief curtsy, afraid suddenly that if she tried to say more, she might cry.

As Michael reached for her hand and tucked it firmly into the crook of his arm, it occurred to her to wonder when, exactly, he had changed from the man who so amiably followed her lead to one who seemed determined now to ignore it. But she remained silent as they made their way to the main stairs.

After the first flight, the spiral stairway narrowed and she went ahead. But when they arrived at the chamber she shared with Lady Euphemia and she reached for the latch, he stopped her by catching her hand and drawing it back.

"Wait, lass," he said quietly. "I would know what has disturbed you so."

"Ian Dubh awaits you, sir, and we should not stand here talking where my aunt may hear us."

"Ian Dubh will wait, and we can hear Lady Euphemia snoring. What is it?"

"Nothing of consequence," she said, feeling guilty as the words tripped glibly from her tongue but feeling, for once, utterly incapable of explaining herself in a way that would make sense to him without betraying her family.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment in the way that made her most uncomfortable. Then, as she felt heat creeping into her cheeks, he said, "You might like to think up a different answer, sweetheart, one that I am more likely to believe."

Much as she wished she could elude his stern gaze, she could not seem to do so, but neither could she blurt out the truth to him, not the whole truth, certainly.

He seemed content to hold her gaze, to make her squirm in her guilt as he had done earlier that day, until at last she said, "This marriage is happening too fast, that's all. I'm thinking we should wait longer, not marry so quickly. It cannot matter if we wait. It is not as if we will be traveling alone together again, because if Hector and Lachlan have their way, they'll surround us with protectors of all sorts, a vast flotilla of galleys full of oarsmen and family. Moreover, sir, you don't even want to marry me. You know you don't. You feel as constrained to do so as I do, myself."

His fingers on her shoulders found the earlier bruises, making her wince. Immediately, his grip eased, but he did not take his hands away as he said, "That answer is no better than the first, lass. We are going to be married just as soon as a priest presents himself to say the words. So unless you can give me truly good cause, I will not call it off, nor help you to do so. We need to make speed, Isobel. Henry himself may be in danger."

"How could he be? Surely, he has surrounded himself with protectors."

"Aye, but they will make little difference to Waldron."

"Waldron waits at the other end of the Sound," she reminded him. "He is no threat to anyone else whilst he stays there, not when Lachlan knows he is there."

"We know only that his galleys lurk there, not who is aboard them. And Waldron is always welcomed in Caithness, and at Roslin, for that matter."

"Mercy, why should he be?"

"He is my cousin despite the circumstances of his birth," Michael said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "He is also a prime favorite of my mother's, because he has always been most charming to her. I had not thought about all this before, because he said naught to me about Henry or his ceremonies and I knew naught of any treasure. Waldron just insisted that I should tell him where ‘it' was, and since ‘it' was a mystery to me, I thought only about his stubborn refusal to accept that I did not know what was missing. A treasure of any size complicates things. Moreover, Ian Dubh said there are other claimants to the princedom."

"Are you saying that Waldron may be one of those claimants?"

"He cannot be a true claimant, because he is baseborn and he comes from the French branch of our family. Henry's claim originated not only through our mother, who is cousin to the Norse King, but also through Henry's first wife."

"He was married before?"

"Aye, his first wife was the Norse King's daughter. They were very young, and she died soon afterward. Her father helped ours arrange Henry's second marriage."

"But none of this will matter once Sir Henry is made Prince of Orkney."

"That's true, and I believe it is too late now to contest it, in any event. But since Waldron believes it is God's will that he should have whatever he wants, he may try to claim the princedom anyway, either by guile or by force."

Isobel's head was whirling, but she tried to return his thoughts to the subject at hand. "Even so, I warrant your brother can take care of himself, and we—"

"No more now, lass. You need to sleep, and I must not miss this opportunity to learn what I can from Ian Dubh. We'll talk more in the morning."

Her mouth opened in protest, but he had his hand on the door latch, and before she could think of anything to say that might sway him from his decision, she found herself inside the bedchamber with the door swinging shut behind him.

As she took off her gown and, in her shift, slipped quietly into bed beside Lady Euphemia, she promised herself that she would make everything clear to him, somehow, before anything else happened the next day. She could not allow him to marry her if she might taint his children with the same demon that cursed her.