knights and rode to Wilton Abbey. Within two days, Rufus rode back and announced to all that with his own eyes he had seen the Scots princess take the veil, so she could not marry any man.”
“Close call for Rufus,” said a deep male voice.
A dark chuckle rumbled along the table. Even the ladies knew the scandalous stories about the king and his court, so strangely empty of women. None believed Rufus would ever take a bride.
“Then it was a bluff,” Leonie said. She gasped. She’d forgotten herself again. And there she was, eye to eye with the Peregrine, his censure pouring through his eyes at her, while she could not force herself to look away.
He nodded politely. “Aye, lady, nor do you need fear for yourself. Even Rufus is shocked by the Count of Richmond, and he will let no decent woman fall into the man’s hands. But moreimportant, the Princess Edith will never marry if Rufus can prevent it.”
“Is that not her father’s choice?” she asked.
“Aye. But recall, the blood of Saxon kings also flows in her veins. To ally Scotland and the old Saxon kings with a Norman as powerful as Richmond—’tis far too dangerous.”
Then what had the Count of Richmond wanted of her? But of course. If Richmond couldn’t have the princess, Leonie at least would bring fine lands and a castle to a marriage.
“Mayhap,” said Aunt Beatrice as she daintily dabbed her napkin to her lips, “Rufus has chosen a husband for our Leonie?”
Leonie sighed. It was Aunt Beatrice’s favorite subject, and Rufus’s delay was almost beyond explaining. Unless every man Rufus had chosen had argued the king out of it.
“I think not,” replied the Peregrine. “If he had made a choice, he would have no need to send me to be castellan of Bosewood.”
Leonie dropped her napkin. Her castle? The king had chosen Philippe le Peregrine?
Uncle Geoffrey frowned. “Yet he does not seek to ally you with the castle’s heiress?”
“He knows I would not.”
Hot shame turned Leonie’s face brilliant crimson. He didn’t have to say it so bluntly and publicly.
“The king honors my vow,” he said, as blandly as if she were not present. “I do not wish to wed. When Rufus chooses a husband for the heiress, then I’ll be free to wander again.”
She wished she could pull her veil over her face. Not even to obtain the very castle and demesnes other men coveted would Philippe le Peregrine take her to wife. Her hands knotted together in her lap. Well. She did not want him, either. He was arrogant and rude. She did not doubt he would be heartless with any wife.
“Enough of talk about a court that is so far away,” said Uncle Geoffrey, and his voice had a kind and gentle tone that she knew was directed at her. “Time for some gaiety. Let us clear the hall and enjoy some dancing.”
The Peregrine reached out his arm, staying her uncle, who had just begun to rise from his chair. “I have another idea,” he said. “A different sort of entertainment. Let us have a shooting match.”
Uncle Geoffrey sputtered. “’Tis dark, Philippe.”
“Let the bailey be lit by torches. I have a yen to redeem my damaged reputation.”
Every muscle of Leonie’s body tightened like a bowstring. Had he not humiliated her enough tonight?
“Sir knight, I do not wish. Perhaps the knights of Brodin might be a better match,” she said.
He laughed, and something dark and hard changed his eyes. “Can any of them outshoot you, Lady Leonie? I think not. Perhaps you are afraid you might be bested?”
The heat of anger pulsed in her veins. “Do you think you can?” she asked, her words low and measured.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll split your arrows down their shafts.”
“Mayhap she will split your shaft,” said one of her uncle’s knights. The howls of laughter from the Brodin knights echoed off the hall’s stone walls.
Her glare surely shed sparks like a horseshoe striking stone. Ice and fire throbbed in her heart. “Very well, then,” she
“Close call for Rufus,” said a deep male voice.
A dark chuckle rumbled along the table. Even the ladies knew the scandalous stories about the king and his court, so strangely empty of women. None believed Rufus would ever take a bride.
“Then it was a bluff,” Leonie said. She gasped. She’d forgotten herself again. And there she was, eye to eye with the Peregrine, his censure pouring through his eyes at her, while she could not force herself to look away.
He nodded politely. “Aye, lady, nor do you need fear for yourself. Even Rufus is shocked by the Count of Richmond, and he will let no decent woman fall into the man’s hands. But moreimportant, the Princess Edith will never marry if Rufus can prevent it.”
“Is that not her father’s choice?” she asked.
“Aye. But recall, the blood of Saxon kings also flows in her veins. To ally Scotland and the old Saxon kings with a Norman as powerful as Richmond—’tis far too dangerous.”
Then what had the Count of Richmond wanted of her? But of course. If Richmond couldn’t have the princess, Leonie at least would bring fine lands and a castle to a marriage.
“Mayhap,” said Aunt Beatrice as she daintily dabbed her napkin to her lips, “Rufus has chosen a husband for our Leonie?”
Leonie sighed. It was Aunt Beatrice’s favorite subject, and Rufus’s delay was almost beyond explaining. Unless every man Rufus had chosen had argued the king out of it.
“I think not,” replied the Peregrine. “If he had made a choice, he would have no need to send me to be castellan of Bosewood.”
Leonie dropped her napkin. Her castle? The king had chosen Philippe le Peregrine?
Uncle Geoffrey frowned. “Yet he does not seek to ally you with the castle’s heiress?”
“He knows I would not.”
Hot shame turned Leonie’s face brilliant crimson. He didn’t have to say it so bluntly and publicly.
“The king honors my vow,” he said, as blandly as if she were not present. “I do not wish to wed. When Rufus chooses a husband for the heiress, then I’ll be free to wander again.”
She wished she could pull her veil over her face. Not even to obtain the very castle and demesnes other men coveted would Philippe le Peregrine take her to wife. Her hands knotted together in her lap. Well. She did not want him, either. He was arrogant and rude. She did not doubt he would be heartless with any wife.
“Enough of talk about a court that is so far away,” said Uncle Geoffrey, and his voice had a kind and gentle tone that she knew was directed at her. “Time for some gaiety. Let us clear the hall and enjoy some dancing.”
The Peregrine reached out his arm, staying her uncle, who had just begun to rise from his chair. “I have another idea,” he said. “A different sort of entertainment. Let us have a shooting match.”
Uncle Geoffrey sputtered. “’Tis dark, Philippe.”
“Let the bailey be lit by torches. I have a yen to redeem my damaged reputation.”
Every muscle of Leonie’s body tightened like a bowstring. Had he not humiliated her enough tonight?
“Sir knight, I do not wish. Perhaps the knights of Brodin might be a better match,” she said.
He laughed, and something dark and hard changed his eyes. “Can any of them outshoot you, Lady Leonie? I think not. Perhaps you are afraid you might be bested?”
The heat of anger pulsed in her veins. “Do you think you can?” she asked, her words low and measured.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll split your arrows down their shafts.”
“Mayhap she will split your shaft,” said one of her uncle’s knights. The howls of laughter from the Brodin knights echoed off the hall’s stone walls.
Her glare surely shed sparks like a horseshoe striking stone. Ice and fire throbbed in her heart. “Very well, then,” she
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