Page 42 of To Protect

ChapterEighteen

Amalia had sat with them the previous eve and this morn when he and the others broke their fast. Roland had not spoken with either Alden or Darien about his decision, but he wasn’t surprised that both men cornered him outside the stables.

“Something has changed,” Alden said, direct as ever.

Roland looked around the courtyard. “I will admit, I’ve not been here before so ’tis difficult for me to determine, but all appears as it did when we arrived.”

“Roland,” Alden warned.

He ignored the warning.

“Though it was dark last eve. As I consider it now—”

“With Amalia,” Darien cut in.

“Ahhh,” Roland said. “You did not specify that.”

Darien crossed his arms, looking at Roland.

“You are maddening.” Alden adjusted the sword at his side. The weapon was as fine as any Roland had ever seen, the man having forged it himself.

Knowing they would not be put off, he shared some of his conversation with Amalia. “I asked if she would allow me to court her,” he said.

Darien laughed. Roland scowled.

“You do not appear pleased with me.”

“Because,” Darien said, “Amalia is a fine woman, not deserving of your ‘courting.’” He said the word as if it were a slur.

“You misunderstand, friend. Court her for marriage.”

Darien’s smile fled. “Marriage? You cannot . . . ” He stopped talking. Tried again. “You can, and will?”

“Aye,” Roland said. “If Gareth and Evelina can risk all, why should I do any less?”

“Do you love her?” Alden asked.

“Love? I know nothing of it. I desire her. Wish to be with her. Get to know her. And I admire Amalia, unlike any woman I’ve admired before. She is wise, and willful in a most delightful way.”

“He loves her,” Darien said.

Alden didn’t disagree.

Did Roland love her? How would he know, as he’d never considered the emotion before? Love was not necessary to be with a woman. It was not necessary to marry a woman. His father and mother loved each other because they were forced to, but it was not that kind of love. It was a mutual respect, an endearment. Theirs was an arranged marriage, as Roland’s was supposed to have been. But love?

“You are determined not to be the next earl of de Vere.” Darien shook his head. “The betrothal. Fighting with us. And this?”

“Betrothal? What betrothal?” Alden asked.

“Good morn, Mistress Amalia,” Darien said, lifting his hand.

Both Roland and Alden turned to see the lady in question walking toward them.

“Good morn,” she replied.

“I took the liberty of having your mount fetched,” Roland said. “Will you ride with me today?”

Amalia smiled. “I will.”