Page 21 of A Noble Betrayal

Chapter Fourteen

“It sounds to me as if you’ve not truly spoken to her.”

Haydn extended his legs in front of him. Ale in hand, the warmth of Conrad’s fire in his solar chamber, now devoid of any light but that which was provided by candles and two wall torches, it was the first time since he’d arrived at court he felt relaxed.

Certainly he wouldn’t use that word to describe his time at court. Or his interactions with Phillipa. Whenever they were together he alternated between fear she’d learn something to use against his family, desire for a woman who’d each day begun to shed the weight of impossible expectations she’d clearly lived under with her father, and annoyance with himself for caring.

“We’ve spoken plenty,” he said. After explaining the situation to his uncle’s friend, a man who could be trusted with the dilemma, Haydn had waited for him to agree on the course of action he was taking. Instead, Conrad hesitated.

Mimicking his position, his host sat back in his own velvet-cushioned chair. “The last time I was with your father, he told me something he’d likely not care for me to repeat to you. But I’ve never been known for discretion.”

“Nay, you have not,” he agreed dryly. Haydn braced for his next words.

“‘He is the strongest of all my sons,’” Conrad said. “‘Here,’” he pointed to his sword arm, “‘but not here.’” He pointed to his heart. “‘He will never be hurt by a woman because none will get close enough to him for such a thing.’”

Hardly a revelation. His father and mother both, and Haddie even, had said the same many times. But this was very different. “She did not deny being a spy for her father. Indeed, it is the very reason we were forced to wed.”

“Do you have reason to believe her loyalty to the king will be stronger than to you?”

“She hardly knows me.”

“Of your doing, it seems.”

“Knowing her is too dangerous a proposition.”

“It would seem not knowing her is more so.”

Holt had made a similar argument. But what should he do? Trust a woman who could not deny she would turn on him the very first chance she had? “You know Edward as well as I. If he thinks Phillipa disloyal to him, or that she does not do her duty to the crown, it is possible he will punish her sister. I don’t think she gives a damn about that bastard father of hers. At least, she shouldn’t. But she would do anything for the young woman, not yet married, who could be easily ruined. And it is my guess that is the leverage they have over Phillipa.”

“There is more than one way to climb a mountain. If ’tis too steep, go around it. If the path around too long, find another route.”

Haydn took a deep swig of ale. “Or avoid the mountain completely.”

Conrad laughed. “Good luck, my son. If you can avoid that lovely wife of yours, you are a better man than I.”

It hadn’t been easy. “I should retire,” he said. “We leave at dawn.”

Conrad stood, and Haydn did the same.

“I will see you off in the morn,” he said.

Nodding in parting, Haydn had nearly reached the door before Conrad said, “Go to her.”

He glanced back over his shoulder and caught the man’s eye, knowing this afternoon’s attack was an excuse not to do so. If anything, he should take Conrad’s advice for that reason. His wife had been clearly shaken. “Good eve, Conrad.”

By the time he reached his chamber, Haydn still hadn’t come to a decision. He’d not planned to remain celibate on this journey. Certainly he’d not expected to desire his own wife. But the fact complicated matters. He’d told her too much already.

You don’t need to reveal your life story, Haydn. But you can not beget an heir if you avoid her all the way to Hillside.

He pulled off his boots, preparing to bed down. Haydn would think more on the matter tomorrow. For now, he should sleep. Unfortunately, as he lay on the bed watching the candlelight flicker beside his bed, his eyes would not shut.

He thought back to the attack. It did not matter that they attacked first. Killing a man should never, as his father once said, be taken lightly. Not even in battle. He and Holt had buried the bodies, had even said a few words over their shallow graves as their father would have expected them to do.

Graves they needed to dig because he, and Holt, had ended their time in this world.

What must Phillipa be thinking now? Unlike him, she’d never be forced to face such a gruesome scene. Haydn swung his legs off the bed, grabbed the single candle by its brass holder, and made his way to the door. Listening, he heard nothing. She was very likely asleep, as she’d been the night before.

He would open the door. If she was sleeping, he’d leave.