Page 28 of The Protector’s Promise

Kenneth scowled. “I cannot stand by with my lady a prisoner—”

“Prisoner? Is that what she told you?” He knew she’d said nothing of the sort to her man. It was obvious he simply did not trust her judgment, which for some reason infuriated him.

“Not precisely, but—”

“But you think to take control of a woman you serve, one who clearly has the intelligence to carry out her duties.”

The look Kenneth gave him was so full of contempt he had no doubt the man would have attacked him had it furthered his cause.

“I suggest,” Court said when Kenneth turned to leave, “you speak to Lady Marion if you have further concerns.”

He left and Court sank back into his seat. Before parting from Marion last eve, he’d promised to find her before his training session. It was time to do just that, but she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

Delaying, Court thought about the evening before. The raging need to be inside her, claim her, the uncontrollable urge to be the first to show Marion what could come of the passion that he’d awoken in her. It couldn’t be, no matter how much he wanted it. The attack, the stone . . . if only their circumstances had been different.

It was for the best that the attack would be over soon. If all went well, he’d be gone less than one week. And then he could give her the stone and return to his normal world. One of his own choosing. Though not, unfortunately, one which included Marion.

He rose and after a brief search found her in the great hall . . . playing chess?

“Your move, my lady.”

A young knight named Marcus sat across from her. And though the hour was still early, the men’s training not yet begun for the day, Court nearly ordered the knight out of the hall. Marcus looked at Marion the way any man would regard such a beautiful woman. Unbidden, a vision of Marion in the round tower, her head back, hair streaming all around her, assaulted him.

“You wished to speak to me?”

Both she and Marcus startled at his tone. Sensing his displeasure, the knight scrambled to his feet and left them alone. Or as alone as they could be in a crowded great hall.

“Only if you can manage a civil conversation, my lord?”

He was tempted to say that he could not.

“Come.”

Without waiting for her, angry at himself for his reaction to a simple game of chess, Court led her out of the hall and down a secret passageway. Descending a few stone stairs, he opened a door, which led to—

“A garden!”

None used this path but he. Shielded from the rest of the herb and flower garden, this patch of greenery and the small courtyard surrounding it was a rare private space. One he wanted to share with Marion.

“’Tis lovely,” she said, her hands gliding across the coralbells as she walked.

It is you who are lovely.

“Why are you so cross with me this morn?”

Not prepared for the question, Court scowled in answer. “I am not—”

“Aye,” she cut in. “You are.”

She wore the same riding gown, now laundered, as when they’d first met. Her hair, no longer flowing freely, was clasped back on both sides, a simple twist holding the remainder in place.

He couldn’t very well tell her the truth about his ill-considered jealousy. Instead, he broached another equally delicate topic.

“I know you hope that I may reconsider the attack—”

“But you will not,” she finished for him.

“My orders—”