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puffed up in ire.
    “Then we shall send for the queen’s handmaidens and ask them to confirm Darian’s presence in the solar.”
    “The queen is frugal with her candles,” Emma stated. “Those not asleep would not have seen Darian’s face clearly, nor would they pay any heed to his occupying a pallet at the far end of the solar.”
    Bishop Henry’s control slipped as he addressed the king. “Sire, this woman is the daughter of a traitor! Her word cannot be trusted any more than the mercenary’s. I say she lies!”
    “Why would she lie, Henry?”
    Exactly what Darian wondered!
    “I know not, but to believe her is to allow a murderer to go free!”
    Hands clasped behind his back, his expression thoughtful, King Stephen took two steps toward Emma, bringing them to within arm’s reach of each other.
    “We are hard-pressed to learn the full truth, my lady. As my brother says, your word is suspect. Is there nothing further you can offer?”
    Emma again licked her lips, and for the first time she glanced at him. Not long enough for him to guess what she was thinking.
    In a voice so low Darian strained to hear, she said, “I can tell you of his scars. The one beneath his left ribs is thin and long. The others I would rather not speak of, if I need not.”
    How the hell did she know?
    The bishop didn’t give him time to contemplate. “I beseech thee, Sire, to consider how this woman claims to have soiled the sanctity of our beloved queen’s solar! She has fornicated with a man not her husband! Punishment under Church law—”
    “We are aware of Church law, Henry.” The king turned toward his brother. “We are not in a Church court, but a royal one, and while we take a dim view of this morning’s revelations, we are inclined to mercy. Darian of Bruges shall marry Lady Emma de Leon and both will leave the court.”
    Darian’s heart leapt to his throat. Marriage! Never. Not to any woman, particularly not to a woman who took advantage of his misfortune to gain... something.
    The crowd thought the king’s proclamation a grand one. Bishop Henry looked stunned. And the woman whose interference had brought them to this pass—her chin drooped to her chest, her eyes closed.
    Unable to hold his peace any longer, Darian shook off William’s staying hand. “Sire, I cannot say why the lady has invented this tale, but we did not—”
    Emma’s head snapped up. “Certes we did!” Determined to ignore her, Darian continued. “We have never known each other in carnal manner. In truth, I have never seen Lady Emma before this morning. There is no reason for us to marry.”
    Now in high dungeon, Emma crossed her arms. “I agree. No reason whatsoever.”
    “We do not recall giving either of you a choice!” King Stephen said. “You will pledge to each other with all here as witness. Lady Emma, I will have your consent.”
    She took a deep breath, her irritation unrelenting. “Only because you so order, Sire.”
    King Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Darian?”
    For the blink of an eye Darian thought to protest once more, but knew damn well that he either married Emma de Leon
now
or suffer a rope slipped around his neck. So be it. Better to live and deal with the mess later.
    But not much later. The thought of marriage appealed to him as much as hanging. He wanted no wife, no children, no one to whom he must feel a responsibility. No one to mourn for him or to mourn in return.
    He almost choked on his consent.
    “If you insist, Sire.”
    Bishop Henry looked crestfallen. “But, Stephen, what of de Salis? Will you allow his murderer to go unpunished?”
    The king glanced down at the dead man at his feet. “Haul him out of here as you hauled him in, Henry. We doubt the happy couple wishes a corpse in attendance as they exchange vows.”
    He wasn’t sure how Lady Emma felt about the presence of a corpse at their wedding, but to Darian it somehow seemed fitting.

Chapter Three
    E ven the absence of the corpse couldn’t help