"I'm glad." Sitting up, he took the rag away from her and flung it away. "I want to keep protecting you from whatever makes you bring up your fist when you think you're alone." She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "Don't you want to tell me about it yet?" he coaxed.

She shook her head.

Disappointment made his voice sharp. "Isn't it my duty to see that you are safe at all times? I think that a walk such as you've just taken could scarcely be considered prudent."

"Even foolish." She glanced around the open meadow. "Still, he hides himself. I almost wish he would return so we could end this."

Her intensity surprised David. He'd chided her, true, but he'd almost forgotten why he beat his body into submission day after day. The reward he received every night pushed danger far from his thoughts. Now he, too, glanced around the meadow. They sat in the open, exposed to any predator's gaze, and a frisson of warning went up his spine. "Mayhap we should sit in the shade of a tree."

"Mayhap we should go back."

They should, of course, but he wanted to talk to her, and when they returned to the castle she'd be inundated with duties and he'd need to go make his peace with Sir Walter. "A few more minutes alone," he begged. "I have a question to ask you."

Warily, she agreed. He helped her up and then put his arm around her waist. He liked the easy intimacy of that, the knowledge that he could have her out here and she would yield. It had been a significant victory for him that one morning on the table, and he'd often wondered why his burst of fury and impatience had worked when all his careful preparation the previous night had failed. He'd been too angry and disappointed to think about it at first, and that night he'd shouldered his way into her bedroom and let his emotions drive them. Later, he'd experimented, trying to see what evoked her pa.s.sion, and he'd discovered she sought, recognized, and responded only to genuine ardor.

If he tried to seduce her, she resisted him with all her fiber. She sought his genuine affection, and she was an expert at detecting the sincerity of others' feelings. What excited her most were the times he concentrated on the two of them to the exclusion of all else. Luckily for him, that proved easy, for when he allowed desire to sweep through him, her response rewarded him beyond his wildest dreams. She acted like a woman in love, and he liked her that way.

Choosing a place in the shade where she could rest her back against a tree, he swept her a bow and said, "Sit here."

Solemnly, she obeyed him, arranging her skirts carefully and tucking her feet beneath her. She sat with her spine straight and her face composed. Without a word spoken, he understood. She was the lady; he was the mercenary. She would speak to him, but she took care that he saw no glimpse of skin or any part which might excite him, for today she wanted to forget their intimacies of the night before.

Too bad he couldn't allow her such privacy.

"Why did you run away back there?"

She hesitated, and he could see her wanting to pretend she didn't remember how abruptly she had left. But unlike most people he'd ever met, she faced trouble when it came.

"Everything we've done previously, we've done in the privacy of our chambers, and although everyone knew what was occurring, they hadn't actually seen."

"Except for the sheet," he reminded her.

"Aye. Except for that." Her nostrils flared with disapproval, just as they always did when he reminded her of the sheet. "But when I wished to do something as simple as tending your hurt, my people watched as if it were an event, an indication of...something."

"Like affection?"

He'd struck a nerve somehow, for she sat up on her heels and her hands twisted in her lap. "I have affection for you! I couldn't have let you come to my bed if I did not. Just because I don't show every pa.s.sing emotion, it doesn't mean I'm cold or unfeeling. It simply means I've learned that women are better obeyed when they restrain their emotions."

Startled by her vehemence, he agreed.

She went on. "From the moment of my birth, my parents explained to me the difficulties I would face as an heiress with no close male kin. My G.o.dparents helped me realize my position and how others would try to take advantage of it. All of them trained me in appropriate behavior, and tempered me by maintaining a proper distance. Just because I keep to myself, it does not mean I have no feelings."

"I know that." He kept his voice low, half-afraid she would flee again when she realized what she'd revealed. "I've always known there's more to you than meets the eye."

She collapsed back onto the ground. "Aye. Like wealth."

Her cold suggestion left him shocked and indignant until he remembered why he'd courted her in the first place. He did want her money, her land, her influence. He needed it, all of it, but that wasn't the only reason he courted her now, and he wanted to tell her in the eloquent language of the troubadours. Instead he gulped and said, "There's more than that."

"More. Aye, more. More time, mostly."

"Time?"

"Time between my birth and now. I'm old."

He laughed. He shouldn't have, but compared to him, she was a child, an innocent babe inexperienced with anguish or struggle.

Then he glanced at her and saw the way her lips tightened and the glare she bent on him. Hastily, he said, "I beg your pardon, my lady. Your experience in diplomacy and management is far beyond the reach of mine, yet your beauty has never been touched by frost." His flattery failed to mollify her, and he sighed. "My lady-Alisoun-have you thought that lately, in the last fortnight, you have occasionally lost your serenity on more than one occasion?"

Incredulous, she said, "That's your fault! You'll take nothing less than my complete partic.i.p.ation."

"Aye, in bed." He took her hand and petted it. "Have I told you how happy you make me in bed?"

She stiffened yet further. "You've mentioned it, although I scarcely believe we should have such a discussion outside in the sunlight."

Leaning forward, he whispered, "Do I make you happy in bed?" She glanced around as if expecting the stern monitors of her behavior to materialize and chide her, and he raised his voice to recapture her attention. "Do I make you happy in-"

"Aye." She clamped her teeth together hard, as if that one-word admission pained her.

He kissed her hand, then put it back in her lap. His hands lingered, rubbing her thighs through the material of her skirt. The friction warmed her even as she batted ineffectually at him, and she relaxed a little. He said, "I've observed that you occasionally laugh out loud."

"Not frequently."

"Not frequently," he agreed. "But it's startling. Pleasant, but startling."

"I won't do it anymore."

"Don't stop. It's made everyone quite cheerful. Haven't you noticed?"

"Maybe." She begrudged him even so small an acknowledgment.

"I've seen you blinking tears from your eyes, too."

She pushed back so quickly her head hit the tree trunk, but she didn't seem to notice the pain. He heard panic when she demanded, "When?"

"The musicians made you cry last night with their ballad about the brothers who were rival pirates and sank each other's ships."

"I have no sympathy for pirates."

"That's why it surprised me when you wept."

Tears filled her eyes now-not that she would admit it-and he ached for her. She was experiencing a full range of emotions for the first time, and she was as susceptible to the pangs as any adolescent. But he couldn't coddle her. Not now. It was far too late for that. She had to face this sensibly, like the lady Alisoun, and slowly she would grow into this other, newer role. "I've also noted that you observe Hazel when she's close to you."

"Hazel?"

"The baby. Hazel. You offer to hold her, too." She didn't say anything, and he probed. "Is there any reason why she interests you now?"

"Babies are just interesting."

"Aye, I always thought so." Since the first time he'd held his daughter in his arms. "Your emotions are easily touched, babies fascinate you...Do you have something you want to tell me?"

"Why?" She was beginning to sound defensive.

This was proving every bit as difficult as he had feared. "Because you haven't had your monthly flux in the time we've been together."

She just stared at him as if he were speaking some foreign language.

"I just thought that since you're laughing and crying easily, and I've noticed when I touch you here-" he caressed one breast slowly, trying to calm her, "-you're sensitive, and you haven't had-"

"Are you trying to suggest I am with child?"

She understood! He almost wiped his brow in relief. "That had occurred to me. Do you think that you might be?"

"How should I know? I've never been concerned with such trivial matters." She must have realized how odd that sounded, for she explained, "As lady, my task has never been to deal with the early signs of conception. My task has been to a.s.sist in delivering the babes into the world while the man responsible drinks himself into oblivion."

"I wondered if that might not be the case," he answered mildly.

Ignoring him, she swept on. "And how do you know so much about a woman's body, anyway?" Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Oh, I suppose you have a hundred b.a.s.t.a.r.ds loitering around your estate. Well, if you know so much about it, why didn't you just say, 'My lady, you're with child,' and be done with it?"

She resented admitting her ignorance. He understood that. She was more than a little frightened, and he understood that, too. That explained why she lashed out at him, and he maintained his composure. "I don't know for sure that you carry a babe, and to the best of my knowledge, I have no b.a.s.t.a.r.ds on my estate. But with our nightly activities and the symptoms you're displaying, it seems likely you'll bear me a child before the first planting."

"Some women don't bear children for years after they begin mating."

He grinned, he couldn't help it. "A l.u.s.ty planting in a fallow field, my lady."

"It's not funny!"

"I smile for joy, not because I'm amused. Making a child is a moment to celebrate."

"For you. Your job is done. Mine's just begun."

He began to lose patience, although he'd had dealings with pregnant women before and well knew their uneasy temperaments. "It's true that in these next few months you will indeed bear the burden, but a father's duties do not end with conception."

"Yours do."

Her cruelty struck at him like a well-aimed blow. He took a quick breath and let it out slowly. "I know you had originally thought to raise my babe alone, but surely you've seen the error of your plan."

"What error? There is no error."

"Do you deny the pleasure we find in each other's company? Not just in the bed, but in the evening when we speak together?"

"Do you think I should take a husband based on the pleasure of his conversation? I've lived alone for a long time, and no one treats me like an equal except you. No one dares argue with me because I'm the lady and have a sharp tongue. Now a crude mercenary sits at my table and tells me what he thinks of me, my management, and of our world without constantly bowing to my superior status."

Her tongue lashed him, and he fought his resentment. "I didn't realize I offended you."

"You don't offend me." She rose to her feet slowly, walking her hands up the tree trunk behind her. "I enjoy it. It's a powerful enchantment, this companionship, and you've used it to destroy the efficient functioning of my mind."

She'd as good as labeled him a wizard. Incredulously, he said, "It's called honesty, my lady, and if you've been so seldom exposed to it you call it enchantment, I pity you."

"Pity me? You envy me. You want to marry me. You want to use this child to control my...my twelve sacks of wool. To control my life!"

"Your money? Your life?" She confused him. She infuriated him. Didn't she know what was important? "This is a babe we're talking about. I do want to marry you, and I know you said-"

"I said I wouldn't, and I never change my mind."

Her eyes were gray as flint, and just as hard and cold, and he lost control of his temper. After all, he'd failed in the greatest gamble of his life. "You said you wouldn't, but when I covered you at night, I thought I'd found a woman, the true woman that you were. I was mistaken. You used me just as I use Louis to cover a mare, and now my duties are accomplished."

"You don't have to wait for accounting day." She scrambled for her keys and shook the one which opened her strongbox at him. "I'll give you the gold at once."

"Double the gold." He could hurt her, too. "Gold for being your mercenary, and gold for being your stud."

"I'll send Eudo with it and you can be gone."

"Send Eudo with half of it. Keep the other half for my son, and tell him it is his patrimony, to be used anytime he wishes, to travel to Radcliffe and be with me, his father." Tapping his finger on his chest, he said, "You might be able to keep my child from me, but you can't take that. I am his father and always will be."

"Be gone with you, then."

"I wouldn't stay if you begged me."

They stood facing each other, panting, as if they'd run a race and exhausted all their energy. Alisoun's wimple sat c.o.c.ked on her head, her cheeks flamed, and she smelled of brimstone. He didn't look much better, he supposed, and he knew one brief moment of chagrin, one moment of wanting her last glimpse of him to be Sir David of Radcliffe, the legendary mercenary.

Instead, anger and hurt had stripped him of all pretense. She tossed her head and strode away, putting as much distance between them as quickly as she could. He whirled and stormed in the opposite direction.

He'd gone only a short distance before conscience brought him to a halt.

He couldn't leave her to navigate the woods alone. His month of stewardship hadn't ended yet. Quietly, so she wouldn't notice and draw false conclusions, he followed her through the woods, where he halted in the shadow of the trees. From there he watched her walk across the clearing and into the stream of people moving from the village to the castle.

She never looked back.

And he didn't care. With a curse, he punched both fists into a tree trunk, then grabbed his sc.r.a.ped and aching knuckles and swore ever louder. d.a.m.n the woman! She had him doing stupid things for stupid reasons. He stomped back into the woods, sucking his bleeding wounds. He hadn't meant to lose his temper, but by Saint Michael's arms, he'd not return and beg her pardon when she'd been the one who insisted on following her asinine plans. He circled through the trees. Aye, she'd warned him, but he'd thought she'd see the good sense of marrying him. He'd thought she was an intelligent woman. He should have realized those two terms were mutually exclusive. When a man- "G.o.d..."

David stopped and c.o.c.ked his head. That sounded like an animal in pain.

"Saint...John help..."

An animal who groaned. An animal with a vocabulary. His senses suddenly went on the alert. He scanned the area, noting broken branches on the underbrush and a dribble of some dark substance marking the leaves. He leaned closer.

Blood. His earlier itch returned, the sense of being watched, and he glanced around at the green enclave. He could see no one, but that broken voice called again.

"Help...please."

Determined, wary, he followed the dark speckled trail. The sound of labored breathing grew louder. Then he saw him. Sir Walter. A b.l.o.o.d.y wound where his mouth should be. Eyes swollen shut. Leg bones c.o.c.ked at an ungainly angle.

"By G.o.ddes corpus!" David leaped over the barrier of bushes and knelt at the battered man's side. "What happened?"

Sir Walter lisped, "David?"

"Aye, it's me." David grimly ran his hands over Sir Walter, seeking more injuries and finding them. "I need to get help."

"Nay!" Sir Walter clawed at David's arm. "Help."