Page 35 of The Protector’s Promise

“For?”

“Treason. Disobeying direct orders from your king.” Almain, furious, turned to look at his men. Though he’d brought several of them, Court had many more retainers who were already present. The man turned back to Court. “You will pay for this display. As will Kenshire.”

He could endure threats to himself, but Court would not allow one against Geoffrey and Sara. They had naught to do with his foolishness, and they would not suffer for it, even if he did. “If it is peace you want, I will give it. My allies at the border will quell this unrest and uphold the Treaty of York. Is that not truly the goal?”

By speaking openly, he backed Almain into a corner. A very dangerous proposition, especially given the man’s open show of temper, but the only one he had.

“That will not happen,” Almain snapped. “When Moordon grows stronger, and it will, the Scots will push back into our own borders. They’ll have the foothold they need to destroy us.”

“Nay, they will not.”

Everyone, including Almain, turned to look at the entrance of the hall where Marion stood tall and proud, engaging with a man who could summon England to war with her own country if he so desired. Even this far from her, Marion’s voice was clear and strong.

God, she was magnificent. And judging from Almain’s expression, very much in trouble.

* * *

She’d arrived just in time.

Marion walked toward Court, trying to appear unaffected by the icy waves of air emanating from the man who stood at the back of his hall as if he owned both it and all of England. She’d learned from Court’s confidence, and if there was ever a time to appear confident, it was now.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of an introduction,” Almain said, making clear with his tone how very displeased he was with her interruption.

Court obliged. “Meet Lady Marion Rosehaugh, daughter of the 3rd Earl of Ormonde—”

“And Moordon,” she said, adding her father’s most recent acquisition to his title. She arrived at Court’s side and, turning to face Almain, continued, “I am also the betrothed of Lord Thornhurst, seneschal of Camburg Castle.” She did not dare look at Court. “So I can assure you, my father will not declare war against his daughter’s husband. Or any of his southern neighbors.”

Almain’s face turned a dreadful shade of purple and red at her declaration, but she forged ahead anyway. “He is very much committed to the thirty-year treaty, to the Days of Truce, and to peace along the border. Enough so to ensure its success with this marriage.”

Marion did chance a look at her supposed future husband. His expression impressed her—he looked nothing like a man who had just learned about his own betrothal.

“Why . . . ,” Almain sputtered. “You said you were prepared to attack,” he finally managed, enraged.

“I could not understand why you insisted on this raid,” Court pressed him. “It took some time for me to realize that your concern is for your own interests, not for England,” he told him boldly. “But as you can see, there’s no reason to pose this attack. Marion’s father is—”

“I know who Ormonde is,” Almain spat out.

The regent wanted to punish Court. A new chill ran up her back. This man intended to hurt the people she loved and, if allowed, would strike at the very heart of the treaty that had allowed some modicum of peace in the borderlands these last few decades.

When she felt Court’s hand, Marion thought he was attempting to interlace his fingers with hers until she felt the chain.

The stone.

She took his hand then, and together they held the stone. In that moment, any vestiges of cold were gone, replaced with the exact opposite. A warmth so consuming it felt as if she and Court had ventured outside to stand under the bright summer sun. She wasn’t sure if Court felt it too.

Almain stared at them, wide-eyed, and then turned to look at the men gathered in the hall. Marion had not noticed earlier, but Court’s men looked as if they were prepared to fight at any moment. None had unsheathed their swords, but they were clearly ready to commit treason for their lord. For if they did strike down Almain or any of his men, it would be akin to an attack on the king himself.

Even so, Almain would be taking a great risk if he punished her love. He would be declaring, once and for all, that he was an enemy of peace.

The tension hung in the air for a long moment, and then without warning, Almain’s chin rose and he addressed Court very differently than he had before. “Very good, Thornhurst. You’ve done well to avoid bloodshed and secure the western border.” He nodded to them both. “Congratulations on your impending nuptials.”

Marion thought carefully about her next words and decided to forge ahead.

“I do believe Halbury would suffice as a wedding gift.”

For a moment, she thought perhaps she’d pushed too far. But when Almain threw his hands up in the air as if granting a wish, she smiled for the first time since entering the hall.

“Of course, of course. Thornhurst,” he said to Court, “Halbury is yours.”