Page 22 of The Scot

“Did I . . . have I said something wrong?”

Leaning forward, Terric replaced his goblet on the table between them. Blood pounded through his temples.

“Where did you see Lord Ulster?”

But he already knew the answer. Given the very weather they’d discussed, it was unlikely Roysa had traveled anywhere but Stokesay in recent months.

“Just before Walter left for . . .” She swallowed hard. Reminding him that her husband had died very recently. And he sat here staring at her breasts.

“Just before he left for his brother’s manor.”

Where he had been killed. Murdered, more like. If the bastard had truly had relations with his brother’s wife, Terric thought he’d gotten exactly what he deserved, although Roysa might not thank him for saying so.

Had her husband mistreated her?

He wanted to know.

But he needed to know about Ulster more.

“Do you know why he was there?” Lance asked.

“Nay. He visited for just two days before leaving with Walter.”

“He went with him to Langham less than two months ago?”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure. What is wrong?”

Ulster was here, in the north. He’d likely met with Langham.

They needed to move. Now.

Terric stood abruptly, exchanging a look with Lance. “We can’t talk here.”

Though they were in the most secluded spot in the hall, it was quickly filling up with servants. They risked being overheard.

Roysa looked startled. She clearly didn’t understand why they were upset, what her revelation meant to the order. He couldn’t explain to her. Not now. “I’m sure you need to refresh for dinner, my lady?”

She nodded once and did not repeat her question.

“Do you need an escort to find your chamber?” Lance said, courteous as always.

“Nay, but thank you, Lance.”

Consumed by the need to find and notify his marshal, Gilbert, Terric nodded in parting and began to walk away.

After taking a few steps, he broke into a run.

“Roysa?”

She groaned at the sound of Idalia’s voice, rolling over to bury her face in her pillow.

“Two mornings, she sleeps through the morning meal. If Mother were here—”

“If Mother were here, she would chastise you for causing your dear sister such pain.”

The bed sank beneath Idalia’s weight as her sister sat behind her.

“Pain?”