Dragon's Dower. Catherine Archer

tone softer than it might have been had he not felt somewhat doubtful of his own reasons for continuing to tarry. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to cause you such discomfort by gawking as so many others must.”

      She looked up at him then, seeming to really see him for the first time, her uncertain gaze moving over his face. He smiled reassuringly, feeling a deep desire to put her at her ease.

      Her lashes fluttered down, then up as she cast him a shy look. For a moment her gaze seemed almost wishful.

      One of the men spoke up. “Is there a difficulty, my lady?”

      Immediately that expression of cool dismissal fell into place. “Nay, Sir Brian. This man was only asking if he might be of help. I have told him he may go on his way.”

      Simon looked to the man, who met his gaze with disapproval. He had no right to the resentment he felt. The fellow was only doing his duty.

      Yet Simon could not resist one more look at those haunting eyes, which now seemed to hold no expression at all. He felt unexplainably disappointed.

      He bowed again and prodded his horse onward. Christian and Jarrod awaited him.

      Yet he found himself looking back to see that the young woman was watching him. Then his horse took him around a bend in the road and she was gone.

      Feeling oddly bereft Simon gave himself a mental shake. He had no time to allow himself to entertain romantic notions toward a young woman with whom he had exchanged no more than a handful of words at the side of the road.

      No matter that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Marriage to his enemy’s daughter would mean that he would no longer be a free man, in spite of the fact that the very notion was abhorrent to him.

      Jarrod and Christian swung about as he approached them where they sat at a narrow wooden table in a window alcove within the dim interior of the inn. The low-beamed chamber’s other occupants paid more heed to their cups than to each other, which was one of the reasons for choosing this location. Both his friends’ expressions were grave.

      As always, Jarrod spoke first, his black eyes piercing in their intensity. “What said the king?”

      The question brought a new rush of shock and disbelief over what John had proposed. Yet Simon’s tone was amazingly matter-of-fact. “His majesty has proposed a solution in the form of a wedding.”

      Christian shook his gold-streaked brown head in confusion. “A wedding?”

      “Aye, between myself and Kelsey’s whelp.”

      “What say you?” Jarrod rose from the well-worn bench, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

      Simon sat wearily on the other bench beside Christian, telling him, “Desist, my friend. Anger will gain us naught.” He felt Christian’s strong and comforting hand upon his shoulder. It was ever thus, Jarrod needing to be soothed, and Christian soothing. He knew these two men as well as he did himself. They were his brothers in all but flesh. Now that his true brother, Arthur was dead, his only brothers. He accepted each as he was, the aspects of his personality being all that Simon would ask for.

      Jarrod sank back down, speaking more evenly, though there was still a gleam of outrage in those black eyes. “Pray tell us what you are talking about.”

      Simon took a long drink from one of the two half-filled cups on the table before replying. “King John informs me that unless I agree to wed the daughter of the very man we have sworn vengeance upon, I will lose my head.”

      Again Jarrod reached for his sword, though this time it was clearly a symbolic gesture for his other hand went to the brooch at his broad shoulder. His tone was filled with outrage. “You can not agree to such a demand. And if resistance means your death, then we go with you.”

      Simon answered him calmly. “And what would our deaths solve? For that is what the outcome would be. The three of us can not hope to triumph against the crown. It would in no way cause Kelsey to suffer the consequences of his despicable acts.”

      Even the more levelheaded Christian sounded angry and horrified. “But to pledge yourself to Kelsey’s daughter?”

      Simon took a deep breath and another drink of the cool ale. “I know. ’Tis an untenable thought.”

      Christian said. “What precisely did the king say? Perhaps you have not understood him aright and there is another way….”

      Simon halted him with a raised hand. “I understood all too well for he put it baldly enough. ’Tis the axe or Kelsey’s get.”

      “But why? What purpose does it serve?”

      “Because, my friends, he wants me where he can be sure that I am being watched and by one whose loyalty to him is unquestioned.” Simon gave a rueful laugh. “The king informed me that he does not really wish to kill me lest he must. He feels that my death will bring about a certain amount of dissent amongst the nobles and he would avoid that if he is able. It is really a question of what will bring him the least amount of inconvenience.”

      The scowl on Jarrod’s face was as black as his hair. “We should have stayed in Jerusalem. Life there was hard but the enemy was better known, more easily identified.”

      Simon shook his dark head. “I had to return to Avington when I got word that Arthur was gravely ill.”

      Christian spoke up. “Aye, and my own father is getting on as well and has been ill of late. His death would leave no one but my sister, Aislynn, to look after the lands. You are free to do as you will, Jarrod, we are not. Your brother will see to Kewstoke.”

      Simon watched for the familiar darkness that hovered in the back of Jarrod’s black gaze whenever he thought of his family, for it was only his place as bastard that precluded his inheriting the lands and titles his younger brother now held. Jarrod turned away as he said, “King John is correct in one thing at least. There would be an outcry against him at your death.”

      Into the weighty silence that fell Christian said, “You must agree to this marriage.”

      Simon nodded. “As I had realized.”

      Jarrod looked at them as if they had surely lost their minds, once again standing up from his place on the bench across from them. “What say you? Have you both gone mad?”

      Casting a quick glance about the crowded chamber, Simon motioned for him to sit down. “Pray remember yourself, my friend. The king allowed me to go where I would, but there is no reason to believe he would not have me followed. You must have a care lest we be overheard.”

      “But you can not marry Kelsey’s daughter.”

      Christian shook his head. “What real choice has he, Jarrod? John is king. Even if Simon were to escape to the continent, he would not be free. He would know that he had forfeited his lands, left them to the mercy of whatever toady the crown finds favor with at the moment. As things stand, that could very well be Kelsey, lest the king be wise enough to see that granting any man more power than the earl already wields would be a mistake. Simon can not abandon Avington no matter that he must marry the daughter of the very devil himself.”

      “But to marry himself to that family? What know you of her? I recall her but little, other than that our foster father seemed to dote on her as he did his own Rosalind whenever she was visiting.”

      Simon was not unaware of the regret in Jarrod’s voice as he spoke Rosalind’s name, nor that the sad expression in Christian’s gaze matched his own. None of them could forget the sight of her crumpled body beneath that sheet.

      He took a deep breath and forced himself back to the matter before him. He vaguely recalled Isabelle Kelsey from visits to Dragonwick with her father. He had seen little of her, though, as he and his friends had preferred to make themselves scarce when their foster father’s brother was about. He had a vague recollection of a solemn child with overlarge eyes and dark hair that had been arranged carefully at all times.

      Simon