Chapter Three

      Tamsin knew she should protest. Make him stop. Push him away. Call out the guards if need be. Sir Rheged shouldn’t be kissing her or embracing her in the dark. She was a lady. She was betrothed.

      Yet she did not resist him. She could not. Not when his kiss gentled and his strong arms slid around her as if offering her sanctuary.

      Not even when her empty basket fell unheeded to the ground and he opened the door behind him. Nor when he drew her into the deeper darkness of the woolshed, where the bundles of bound wool seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting with soft sighs as his lips found hers again.

      But this thrilling embrace couldn’t last, because duty must be done, or more than she would suffer.

      Putting her hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back. “Stop,” she commanded, her voice low and firm despite the quiver she couldn’t suppress. “Please. Stop.”

      “As you wish, if that is what you truly wish,” he replied, his deep voice like a caress in the darkness.

      No, she didn’t wish it, but it must and would be so. “It is.”

      “Very well. But something upset you before this, something that happened during the melee, or shortly afterward. Please, for my sake if not your own, tell me, and if I can help you, allow me that honor.”

      To have such a man make such an offer, at such a time, in such a voice, was nearly enough to make her weep. But she must not weaken. Nevertheless she simply couldn’t resist the urge to tell him what her uncle had done. “I have been betrothed.”

      “Ah,” he sighed, and she could read nothing in that long exhalation. “To whom?”

      “Sir Blane of Dunborough.”

      He started as if she’d struck him. “That dog?”

      His response, so like a curse, nearly undid her. But she had to be strong and do what she must, for Mavis’s sake—and this man could not know her true feelings. After all, in spite of what he’d said about his knightly duty, there was nothing he could do. “I must remind you that you’re speaking of a nobleman, and my betrothed.”

      “I know who he is,” Rheged replied. “I know what he is. Does your uncle? Do you?”

      “I’ve met him.”

      “And yet you’d marry him?”

      “I’ve agreed to do so,” she answered, although now more than ever she wished she’d refused.

      “You said you’ve met Blane. Where?”

      “Here, if it is any of your business—and it’s not,” she tartly replied.

      “Not at his castle, then. You haven’t witnessed him in his own household. You haven’t seen how terrified his men and servants are of him—and with good cause. He’s the most vicious, evil tyrant I’ve ever met. His sons, save one, are little better, and even Roland quarrels constantly with his brothers. Marry Blane, and you’ll be walking into a nest of vipers at war with one another.”

      God help her if this was so, and yet she must marry Blane. For Mavis’s sake she had agreed, and for Mavis’s sake, she must honor that pledge.

      And she had to get away from Rheged. It would do her no good to listen to him. To be with him. To let him take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

      Yet it seemed as if every muscle in her body had turned to water when she tried to leave. She stumbled and nearly fell, until Rheged took hold of her shoulders to steady her.

      “I don’t say these things to frighten you, my lady,” he said quietly, his gaze searching her face. “I seek only to warn you, and protect you. If you don’t believe what I’ve said about Blane, ask some of the other guests here about him. Even if they praise him, they will hesitate before they do, and the hesitation will tell you that I speak the truth.” His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Whatever your uncle’s promised, you have the right to refuse. You cannot, by law, be compelled to marry.”

      It was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man who must choose whether to grab it himself or save the one member of his family who loved him, and whom he loved. “Let go of me, Sir Rheged.”

      He did, and then he moved to block the door. “I have talked with priests on my travels about many things. I’m as certain as I’m standing here that you cannot be forced to marry against your will.”

      She believed him, yet if he spoke the truth about Blane, it was more important than ever that she marry him and not Mavis.

      So Tamsin straightened her shoulders and faced Rheged squarely. “Did I say I was being forced? Did I complain the betrothal was without my consent? I am going to marry a rich man who will give me rank and a comfortable household, as well as create an alliance between my uncle and a man with power in the north.”

      “Who will make your life a living hell.”

      “What woman doesn’t want a household of her own, and children?” she demanded, even though the thought of sharing Sir Blane’s bed filled her with revulsion. “As for his alleged evil, surely you don’t think my uncle would—”

      “I think your uncle will do whatever he thinks will serve his own ends,” Rheged interrupted, “and I think you, my lady, know that far better than I.”

      “So you say. But I may find it easier to please a husband than my uncle.”

      “How? In his bed? I doubt any woman has ever found happiness in Blane’s bed.”

      “No doubt you would prefer I shared yours.” She forced away the sudden, vivid image of being in Rheged’s bed, in his arms, loving him and being loved, just like her dream last night. “You have a novel method of seduction, I grant you, but it will not succeed with me.”

      “I don’t want to seduce you,” he retorted. “I truly wish to help you, my lady.”

      His sincerely spoken words made it all the more difficult for her to pretend to be unmoved by his offer, and his compassion. “I thank you for your concern, sir knight,” she said, keeping her voice cold, “but my fate is my own business, so unless you intend to keep me here against my will, you will let me go.”

      “Leave, then,” he replied just as coldly, obviously angry now and with good cause—or so she thought until she put her hand on the latch.

      “If you change your mind,” he said with a quiet, yet firm, resolve, “send word to Cwm Bron and I will come for you and take you anywhere you choose to go, whether to a friend, or a relative’s or a convent—any place of sanctuary where your uncle cannot compel you to marry against your will.”

      She had to get away from him before her resolve crumbled into dust, yet she couldn’t go without some sign that she was grateful. That she appreciated and cherished his offer. That she respected and admired him for more than his looks and prowess in battle, although those were considerable.

      That she wished they had met in different circumstances. That she was free, or even a maidservant, so that she could go to his bed and no one would bat an eye.

      So she kissed him. Passionately. Letting loose, for just this once, all the need and longing and desire he aroused within her.

      Just this once, so she would have something to remember in the long, lonely nights to come.

      Just this once, since she would surely find nothing but selfish, demanding lust in Sir