His warm breath cooled the perspiration dampening Bella's temple. A tremor whipped down Bella's spine, raising the fine hair at the nap of her neck. Even though she refused to turn her face back and look at him, she couldn't deny her body's deepening response to his blatant masculinity. Why did she only had to look at him to want him? That wasn't fair!

"Very well, Isabel, we shall do this the hard way." He brought both her hands together in front of her averted face, easily locking both wrists inside the grip of his left hand.

Bella resisted. His strength coupled by his quick fingers had the chords holding her surcoat secure, loosened in the blink of an eye. "Stop. What are you doing?"

Drawing her back against his chest, Sir John spoke softly against her ear. "I believe it is called undressing you, my lady."

"That is altogether unnecessary," Bella whispered.

"It is if I am to examine every inch of your skin before the sun is gone," he said huskily.

The last thing Bella wanted was to be undressed by John Chandos. She leaned back against his chest, encircled by his fierce hold and turned her face toward his. "All right, I yield. I'll tell you what happened."

"Go on, then," Chandos' free hand paused for only a moment, letting the lacing crisscrossing from eyelet

to eyelet on Bella's right side slacken, but he slid his fingers inside the folds of fabric and gently stroked her belly.

"It's a long story." Bella gulped.

"You have all the time in the world to tell it," he prompted.

"It isn't fair of you to try seducing the information out of me. You make me feel like a complete pushover." He had relaxed his grip on her wrists, allowing Bella to drop her hands and grip his where it rubbed at the tension in her belly.

"What is a push...over?" Sir John frowned. He relaxed against the stone wall, holding her lightly in the

cradle of his arms.

"A fool." Bella turned full circle to face him, and looked him straight in the eye. His face looked perfectly composed now, as devoid of emotion as usual.

"Ah. I see," he said. He raised his other hand to her chin, lifting her head slightly more to the slanting

sunlight, now colored by the rose and gold of sunset.

"You are correct. That is unfair of me. I will let the issue of who struck you go for the time being. You may tell me instead why you deliberately lead me to think you had not gone to Winchelsea to see your father on Robin's feastday?"

That question startled Bella. She jerked her face up to look at his. "I didn't." She immediately dropped her gaze and busied her fingers with redoing her laces which he'd loosened.

His question had come straight out of the blue. She had to stop and think back. Why had she misled him?

Sir John put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face. The moment her eyes met his, Bella lifted her

shoulders in a casual shrug, saying, "I thought you would get angry if you knew. I didn't want to start a scene with the king and queen present."

"What say you to my telling you that your going there appears very suspicious to the king?"

Bella searched his face for hidden clues to his emotions. "Am I being accused of spying?"

His fingers tightened on her chin. "Do you think you could actually convince the king or me that you did not give information freely to your father?"

"No, I don't suppose I could. However, I don't believe I told him anything that was vital." Except that the prince was at the same tavern Robin was.

For that matter, Bella thought for the first time, Robin could have imparted the self-same information.

Good Lord, she'd never considered Robin a suspect. What if Robin had killed his own mother? That thought really gave her chills. It also went pretty far in explaining Robin's distrust of Bella. If he had killed his mother he would certainly resent Bella and look for ways to get rid of her for good. There was an arrow from a crossbow that Bella had never found a satisfactory explanation for. Hadn't she seen a crossbow in Robin's bedroom this afternoon? Yes, she certainly had! But if Robin had murdered Lady Isabella, why did Sir James walk about acting like he had the biggest axe to grind? No, the lady committed suicide. She was certain.

"You're frowning, Bella."

"Yes, I am. Why does Sir James hate me?"

"James does not hate you," Chandos said patiently. "Don't patronize me, Chandos," Bella said heatedly. "He treats me like I'm a vicious b.i.t.c.h." Sir John floored Bella with his response. "Why shouldn't he, when you have consistently been a vicious b.i.t.c.h where he is concerned for the past eight years?"

"No, I have not! That wasn't me." "Then why did Sir Graham strike you, Bella?"

Bella blinked, realizing he'd neatly run her through a verbal maze then cut straight to the center of the real issue. She started to say I don't know, but that wasn't true. "I told you, I hit him first."

"Why did you hit him?"

"Because he said terrible things to me. He accused me of hurting the children. The truth was; I stopped Geoffrey from making a dreadful mistake and I saved Henri's life and a puppy's life, too."

"Then how could Sir James have thought you'd hurt the children? He would not accuse you falsely. Did you slap any child in the face, Bella?" "Look, I didn't hurt the children! There was a terrible accident and I had to stop it from becoming worse.

Things got tense. Everybody was screaming. But Graham wasn't at the well to know what really happened."

"You did not answer the question. Did you strike any of the children at the well?"

Bella winced and tried to get her chin free of his hand. Chandos wasn't letting her off.

"Maybe, I could have."

"Which child?"

"Okay, Geoffrey. I think I slapped Geoffrey, but it wasn't to hurt him. It was to stop the hysteria and the screaming. Geoffrey was going to jump down that well. I couldn't let him do that."

"You admit that you hit him?"

"Yes, yes, yes." Bella said, exasperated by the question.

"Could Sir James have misunderstood the reason you slapped Geoffrey?"

Bella jerked her chin free. "Look, he's your friend. You can give him the benefit of the doubt all you want. I don't have to."

"I see." Chandos nodded his head. "Do you want to tell me your side of the story now?"

"Sounds to me like you've already heard the whole sordid tale," Bella couldn't keep the injured tone out of her voice.

Chandos looked at her intently before saying, "There are times, Bella, when truth doesn't lie in just one side of a confrontation. 'Tis moulded somewhere between one side and the other. You should trust me enough to tell me the facts as you see them."

"Fine. So tell me the facts as you know them and I'll tell you if you've got the straight of it." "I'd be a poor judge if I allowed that to be the standard of my justice. However, if you don't want to incriminate yourself, just say so. I'll accept that."

"Incriminate myself?" Bella pushed away from him, jerking free to scramble over the grave stones. He didn't exert any effort to stop her. From the top of the highest wedge of earth, Bella fit her fists to her hips and glared down at Sir John, declaring, "I did nothing wrong."

Sir John swung around standing stones, following her out of the ruins. He stopped on her level, folded his arms over his chest and regarded her for several silent moments. "Then why are you so defensive?"

"Since when has it been a crime to defend oneself against false accusations?" Bella asked. "I don't think we have anything else to talk about, Chandos. Good-bye. Have a nice life."

Bella abruptly ended the discussion. There was no point continuing it. She saw condemnation in Chandos' eyes.

Turning on her heel, she crossed the last of the fallow ground and clambored over the crumbling wall to King Henry's battlefield. By the time she came to the bottom below Offham Hills, she was seething with anger. How dare Chandos talk to her about trust when he did not have the tiniest sc.r.a.p of trust in her!

"Do you know you that Geoffrey acts just like you do when he's angry?"

If he said that as a taunt, it worked, because Bella took the bait. She swung around in the shadow of a ma.s.sive elm, and picked up a rock to throw at him, her own anger past the last mark of self-control.

"I don't think Geoffrey is at all like me. d.a.m.n you, Chandos!" Bella threw the rock at him and missed. "The boys had knocked a puppy into the well and Geoffrey was going to jump down there and save it. I stopped him from doing that stupid thing. I didn't mean to hurt him or the princes or anyone. Maybe I slapped him to get him to be sensible, but I didn't hurt him on purpose or to be cruel or malicious."

"Go on." Chandos closed the distance between them.

Bella shook her head, choking, "While I was restraining Geoffrey, trying to talk sense into him, Henri jumped into that well."

The whole terrible, terrible event tumbled back into Bella's mind, locking her into that terrible rush of fright she'd felt when there was no Henri splashing in the water, screaming for help. She couldn't speak of it. She had spent too much energy blocking the near-tragedy from her mind. If she hadn't, every sc.r.a.p of control she had would have dissolved.

As it was, dealing with the hard, cold truth came so close to her own private tragedy of Iain's death, it nearly crushed her. She could not bear it if another child she loved--died.

Chandos waited, praying she would speak. He had heard all sides of the misadventure except hers.

The first had come unexpectedly. Sir James had ridden down from the castle, taking Chandos out of the hunt to speak privately with him. His friend had stated he had done the unforgivable--struck Lady Isabel. The knight offered no excuse for such unchivalrous behavior, claiming only that he felt it justified.

If Sir John's honor had been compromised, Graham said he would willingly put his case before Almighty G.o.d for judgment. Chandos could select any champion he desired and Sir James would meet that warrior at dawn on the field of combat in a duel to the death.

Sir John had immediately returned to his castle. There, he had heard a harrowing tale from each soul who crossed his path. Chandos had not dared to believe a single word he was told until he'd heard testimony from Henri, Geoffrey and each of the royal princes.

Every version put a little different twist to the tale and gave him more insight to what had happened in his absence this afternoon. Henri's tale was the most poignant, told with many tears--about how a puppy was lost--and how his mother and the angels had saved them both.

Chandos feared Bella's tale was the most harrowing of all, but she would not speak of it. She stared at him with hostile eyes, silent, refusing to share her thoughts.

That in itself, was telling. Had his vain and selfish wife behaved as heroically as the children all claimed, she should be lauding her courage and bravado to anyone who would listen. But this Bella said nothing.

Here, according to James, was another perfect example of Lady Isabel's cruelty to John's sons. Yet this time, Chandos had the G.o.d-awful feeling the cruelty done had been against Bella.

Chandos glanced at the western horizon. The last sliver of the sun was a red arc rapidly sinking out of sight. It would soon be dark. James would be waiting on the jousting field at sunrise. If no challenger were there to pick up his gauntlet and meet him in combat, Sir John's most loyal and trustworthy friend would depart from Chandos Enceinte dishonored.

John couldn't bear to see James shamed in such a manner. Nor could he tolerate the knight sacrificing his life for what was only an error in judgment.

Chandos had no desire for James to leave at all, but neither could Sir John put words in his wife's mouth to convince his friend to stay. A knight's code of honor had been besmirched. There was no hope of washing away the stain except through exoneration.

Worst of all, Chandos could see no way out of this dilemma. By the time the sun had risen on the morrow, the blood of Sir James Graham would stain John de Chandos' hands. Only he could face the Scot in a fight to the death for Isabel de Chandos' honor.

Bella stood mutely by while Sir John pondered his deep thoughts. She moved now, focusing his attention back to her as she carelessly tossed her braid behind her shoulders.

"Well, say something, d.a.m.n you," she demanded.

John took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet, fragrant air of evening.

"There is nothing more to say, is there?" he said quietly.

An intelligent though calculating expression settled on her wounded face. Her lower lip protruded somewhat more than it usually did when she pouted, then her eyes clouded.

"Chandos, do not ask me to turn the other cheek. I will not go to James Graham and apologize to him. That man deliberately misinterpreted everything that happened at the well. He's a d.a.m.ned jacka.s.s!"

"I see," Sir John said, stunned by that forthright admission...that she even considered doing what was right. "Then I suggest we return to the keep."

"I'm not going back," Bella stubbornly refused. "I already told you I am going to my own time."

"No, you are not," he said that in the voice of his that brooked no argument. Bella's coppery eyes simmered with unchecked temper. And that shocked him deeply. Never had his wife openly confronted him with so much temper exposed in her face. Never. Bella played her sly games of manipulation behind the scenes, using others to gain her way. It was totally out of her character for her to stand up against him, defying him openly.

She confused him deeply. He did not know what to do with her. Moments ago she had roused in him the deepest, most heartfelt sympathy for claim of being someone else. He had almost found himself believing her. Now he wanted to shake her.

Then he realized that the anger in her eyes was honest.

She was angry and she was not afraid to show him that anger.

That was a first. He could think of no other time in the past sixteen years when Isabel had ever been so direct. Only men threw out such direct challenges. Then he realized that he need not treat her any differently than he would anyone who challenged his authority.

Sir John took hold of Bella's wrist and started walking back up Offham Hill. He didn't care if she came willingly or not. He didn't stop his march for any reason, striding on, whether she stumbled or fell. He wasn't looking back to see.