It should not have taken three days to reach Castle Soaring.

Laura did not need Lothaire to speak it, and he did not, but she felt his impatience. Unfortunately, not only did Tina sit a saddle poorly, but the maid did so amid numerous packs containing the gowns Laura had taken to court and two more stuffed with the fine material and embellishments gifted the future Lady of Lexeter.

In Lothaire’s hearing, Eleanor had ordered a wedding gown be fashioned as befitting the cousin of the Queen of England.

Clearly, Laura’s betrothed had been displeased, but he inclined his head, as done often throughout the journey that followed, speaking as few words as possible to his betrothed. And not many more to the knights and squire who had accompanied him to Windsor. But of greater note—and blessing—was he did not present as smug over making good his belief Laura would be his. Because he now regretted his win?

Cease! she told herself as they slowed their mounts before the donjon. It matters not. It is done.

Her heart lightened to see she was to be received by Maude’s second stepson, Michael D’Arci, and his beautiful wife, Lady Beatrix of the Wulfriths. But when the latter stepped forward and Clarice was not to be found behind the lady’s skirts, Laura’s heart once more took on weight.

As anxious as she was for Lothaire to meet his future stepdaughter, it boded ill Clarice was not here to greet her mother.

Is it me? Laura wondered. Or Lothaire? She had told her daughter the queen was to provide a husband and father, and Clarice had not been pleased. Nor had Laura expected her to be. But she had known it would go worse were no warning given and had hoped during her absence her daughter would settle into the idea of a home of her own where she was not made to feel tolerated as she had been by the Baron of Owen’s wife.

Laura moved out of Lady Beatrix’s hug, looked to Michael who had stepped forward to welcome Lothaire.

Doubtless, they remembered each other from the one time they met during the first betrothal. After she had flung herself into Michael’s arms, Lothaire had corrected her for being too familiar with Maude’s stepson. But he had not been harsh, for she had earlier assured him her enthusiasm was that of a sister for a brother.

Blessedly, the missive Laura had inked at Windsor and sent ahead to Soaring had prepared Michael to receive the man who believed himself betrayed. She had also closed the missive with the words—Lord Soames does not know. Thus, Michael was assured their secret was safe and prepared for Lothaire’s bitterness over the belief Laura had cuckolded him.

“It has been a long time,” Lady Beatrix’s husband said, his tone telling it could have been much longer.

Laura tensed. Though she appreciated Michael cared enough to worry over the queen’s choice of a husband, she did not wish Lothaire offended.

“Not as long as it feels,” he gave back.

“Over ten years,” Laura forced herself to enter the conversation. “Imagine how blessed we shall be if we look back on this day ten years hence and think it a short time.”

Their eyes swept to her, and she pushed a smile onto her lips and wished she could show teeth to make it more believable. “As ’tis past the nooning hour, Lord D’Arci, I pray you will grant us a night’s lodging.”

“Unnecessary,” Lothaire said. “There is an inn four leagues distant.”

“Husband?” Lady Beatrix said sharply.

Michael’s smile was all for his wife. “We insist you spend the night, Lord Soames, not only for the sake of your travel-weary betrothed but her daughter. Though we received word of your arrival, we could not know which day you would appear. Thus, Clarice’s evening was promised to our children, and we would not disappoint them or her.”

Laura frowned, looked to Beatrix.

“She is much the little m-mother.” The lady brightened her smile as if unconcerned over the bump in her speech. “It has been good for her.”

Remembering how angry Clarice had been when told her mother was bound for court, Laura thanked the Lord her daughter had not been miserable all these weeks. “Lord Soames,” she said, “pray, let us accept the hospitality of the D’Arcis.”

After a long moment, he inclined his head. And she loved him a little more.

“Where is Clarice?” she asked Beatrix.

“Methinks she watches us.” The lady put her head slightly back to indicate either an upper floor or the donjon’s roof.

The roof, Laura guessed. Since Maude’s death, the girl often sought the solitude of that great height. Indeed, it was upon the donjon’s roof at Owen the incident had occurred which forced Laura to awaken.

“May I go to her, Lady Beatrix?”

“Of course. She will be glad to receive you.”

Laura started up the steps, remembered Tina, and turned to ask Michael to aid the woman in dismounting. But Lothaire was alongside the maid, arms raised.

Wishing he could love her even a little bit, she ascended the steps.

Six years past, here is where I opened my eyes just enough to think it possible to awaken, she thought as she moved through the hall toward the stairs. Here is where I revealed Lady Beatrix was not alone in her suffering. Here is where Michael learned how much he wronged the lady with whom he was falling in love.

If not for Clarice and that Laura loved Michael and Beatrix well, she might have resided here rather than seek a husband. And likely would have remained half asleep the rest of her life.

She found Clarice sitting in the embrasure of a battlement that overlooked the inner bailey.

When the girl heard footsteps, she dropped her feet to the ground. “You are returned.”

Despite the cool reception, Laura did not slow her step. “Forgive me for being gone so long,” she said and wrapped her arms around her little girl and hugged her so near she sensed it was discomfort rather than distaste that made Clarice protest.

“Mother!” She strained backward, stilled when she saw Laura’s tears. “What is wrong? Do you not like the husband the queen chose?”

It was not Lothaire she was thinking of. It was that one whose face returned to her time and again whether awake or at sleep. The one she would have chosen for a husband. Thinking to save herself from pain and her daughter from the knowledge Lothaire could not wait to rid himself of another man’s child, Clarice would have been exposed to the perverse Lord Benton. Rather than secure a good future for the girl, Laura might have caused her to suffer a life worse than her mother's.

“I saw him, though I could see little of his face,” her daughter said, eyes moistening. “He is larger than Lord D’Arci. Is he a bad man?”

“Nay!” Laura dropped to her knees, gently gripped Clarice’s arms. “Baron Soames is a good man. He may not be of the affectionate sort, but he will protect you. His home will be our home. Our very own. You want that, do you not?”

The girl drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I wish us to live here with Lady Beatrix and Lord D’Arci.”

Laura momentarily closed her eyes. “I am to wed within a month, and where I go you go. You are my daughter.”

Clarice’s lower jaw jutted. “You say that because Lady Maude is gone, and now you must be a mother to me.”

Laura started to deny it, but it was the truth. Had Maude not died, she would not be awake. “I am sorry, Clarice. I know often I have been absent from your life, but I am present now and shall remain so.”

“How?” She pulled free. “You are to be a wife.”

Laura stood. “That does not mean I cannot be a mother.”

“What if I need you when he needs you?”

Laura did not know how to answer the question that revealed vulnerability often hidden behind the impression Clarice was older than her nine years. Or perhaps she did know. Lothaire had said he would be gone often. “Baron Soames is much occupied with the administration of his lands. We shall have plenty of time together.”

The girl thought on it, said, “Will he like me?”

Laura breathed down tears. “You will need time to become acquainted, but once you do, how could he not?”

Her evasive answer did not escape Clarice, who narrowed her eyes. “Does he like you?”

“He wishes to wed me.” More evasion.

Now her lids became slits. “Because the queen told him he should?”

Laura almost wished her daughter were still very little. Such questions she would not ask. She would be unconcerned about what Lothaire thought of her or her mother, confident he had no choice but to like them. “’Tis true the queen wished us to wed, but Lord Soames is quite agreeable.”

“What am I to call him?”

It felt as if someone pushed a needle into Laura’s heart. “Methinks Lord Soames is best.”

“Aye, for now. But when you are wed?”

Laura knew what she sought. Though Clarice had ceased asking for a father two years past, and Laura had prayed the man she wed would become that to her, it could never be. But Laura had no cause to mourn lost opportunity. Just as Lothaire could not be a father to Clarice, none of the other suitors would have been. Where her daughter was concerned, Lothaire was safe.

“What am I to call him when he is your husband?” Clarice repeated with annoyance.

“Once we are settled in our new home, we shall discuss that with Lord Soames.”

Color shot into Clarice’s cheeks. “He would rather you did not have a child.”

Another needle to the heart, this one going all the way through. “I vow he will come to care much for you,” she spoke what was only a dream. But the truth boded ill for Clarice’s first meeting with Lothaire which could forever mire their relationship.

Clarice looked as if she might fall into argument as she did often since her grandmother’s passing, but she seamed her mouth.

Lady Beatrix, Laura thought. Not only had she exerted a good motherly influence these weeks, but the lady must have prepared Clarice for Laura’s return and the man who would accompany her.

“I should meet him now?” she asked.

“If you wish. Or later, ere supper.”

“We leave on the morrow?”

“We do.”

“Then let us be done with it now.” Clarice led the way across the roof, down the stairs, and into the hall.

Lothaire was seated before the hearth opposite Michael, Lady Beatrix standing alongside her husband. He leaned back in the chair, a tankard in hand, legs thrust out before him, one ankle atop the other. It surprised that he looked at leisure—as if he were amongst friends. Ironically, he could be had what happened ten years past not. Michael’s half brother had been her childhood friend, but ever she had adored Maude’s second stepson, and he had been fond of her.

Was this Lothaire’s way of showing indifference to his hosts? Worse, Laura’s daughter? It must be, and it nearly made her snatch Clarice back up the stairs. However, the moment Lothaire caught sight of what softly slippered feet did not sooner reveal, he drew his legs in, set the tankard aside, and stood.

Laura released her breath. Were he willing to make an effort to hide what he felt about the greatest evidence of his cuckoldry, there was hope Clarice would not know how little she was wanted.

Drawing alongside her daughter who had preceded her off the stairs, Laura sought Lothaire’s regard. But his was upon Clarice, and so intently she wondered what he searched for. The one who had fathered her? Her disposition that he had said was all that mattered for how it affected his household? Or did he steel himself for the introduction to one it could not be easy to look upon?

Laura understood that last. After Clarice’s birth, she had averted her gaze and held her arms close lest someone try to place the infant in them. If not for Maude’s persistence that had been moved to anger, Laura might not have looked upon her child, might not have held her.

It had been difficult, and how she had cried those first times and been repulsed by the babe at her breast, but that had passed. And her heart had opened to Clarice and seen her daughter. Mostly. Clarice did not have her mother’s eyes. Unfortunately, though Laura loved the girl, it had been easier to allow Maude to love her better.

As Lothaire stared, he silently rebuked himself for being so quick to gain his feet. He was as saddle weary as he was determined none would see what went behind his face these past days as he drew nearer life with the woman he had believed lost to him.

The moment he had seen the dark-haired girl trailed by her mother, he had reacted as he should rather than as he wished. Here was the one who had lain beneath Laura’s hand that day at the pond—the reason for their broken betrothal. But though he had expected to be repulsed, he saw only a girl years from a woman, an innocent tainted by her mother’s sin. And as she neared, he saw in the eyes fixed to his that she but tried to appear bold. Vulnerability and uncertainty dwelt there.

“Lord Soames, this is my daughter, Clarice.” Laura halted a reach away. “Clarice, my betrothed, Lord Soames.”

Lothaire inclined his head. “Clarice.”

The girl curtsied. “Lord Soames.”

He glanced at Laura and wished away the pleading in her eyes—wished he had not spoken words that made her believe he would behave poorly toward her child. “I am pleased to meet you, Clarice. On the morrow we shall journey to the barony of Lexeter, my—” He smiled tautly. “Your home. I hope you will be comfortable at High Castle.”

“Are there—?” She closed her mouth.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Other children?”

“I have none of my own.” He looked to Laura. “Yet.”

His betrothed’s eyes lowered, but not before he glimpsed what seemed fear. And wished that away as well. Though she was no longer pure, their marriage would be consummated and he would know her often enough to gain an heir. Mayhap several, though he had said he required only one. But she need not fear him in bed any more than outside it. A child was what he wanted, not revenge.

“However,” he continued, “there are servants’ children with whom you may play.”

“Babies?”

“A few.”

“I will have brothers and sisters?”

Feeling Michael D’Arci’s gaze, he said, “God willing, those as well.”

Clarice took a small step forward. “Mother says I am to call you Lord Soames for now. What am I to call you when she is your wife?”

Lothaire’s chest tightened. In looks she resembled her mother, but more so in her forthright manner that Laura had revealed of herself that day they had first walked—then run—to the pond.

He raised his eyebrows. “What would you like to call me?”

“I have long wanted a father. If you are good to me and my mother, that I would call you.” She raised her eyebrows. “If you agree.”

“I will be good to your mother and you.” That was answer enough. He looked to D’Arci and his wife. “If my chamber is ready, I shall refresh myself ere supper.”

Lady Beatrix smiled. “If ’tis not, soon it shall be. Come. And you, Lady Laura. Our children shall sleep in the solar this eve so Clarice and you may have their chamber to yourselves.”

Laura murmured her thanks and followed the lady, and Lothaire stepped past Clarice who seemed of a mind to remain belowstairs. That made him wonder. Though mother and daughter had been reunited whilst he waited in the hall, they could not have had more than a quarter hour together. Should not the girl wish to stay near Laura after so long a parting?

He could not accurately gauge mother-daughter relations by comparing them to the disagreeable Lady Raisa and his sister, but there seemed something missing between Clarice and her mother.

Shortly, Laura closed the door of the chamber alongside the solar, and Lady Beatrix led him to a room at the far end of the corridor.

“’Tis ready.” She motioned him inside.

He stepped over the threshold and started to close the door. “I thank you, my lady.”

“Lord Soames?”

He stilled. “Lady Beatrix?”

“I fear I t-trespass,” she stuttered as if nervous, “I pray you will forgive me, but my husband and I are fond of Lady Laura and her daughter—so much that were the lady not fearful of being a burden and determined to provide Clarice a home of her own, we would have them remain with us.”

Then Laura had not needed to seek a husband she did not want. Because she truly did not wish to burden D’Arci and his wife? Or did she weary of no position of her own, she who was to have been a baron’s wife?

“Thus,” Lady Beatrix continued, “we would be assured they are happy with you.”

He was not going to like this. “Speak, Lady Beatrix. If I can, I will put your mind at ease. If I cannot, you will have to accept I have good cause.”

She looked dismayed, then annoyed. “I know once you were betrothed to Lady Laura, and I know you broke the betrothal when—”

“I did not break it.”

She blinked.

“Though I would have had Lady Maude not done so.”

Her nose wrinkled, reminding him of a rabbit, albeit a beautiful one. “And yet now you shall wed a woman you believe cuckolded you.”

Bitter laughter broke from him. “Believe? Are you so slow of mind you forget I just met her daughter?”

Her eyes flew wide, replacing the image of the rabbit with that of a hawk who made prey of that other lovely creature.

“I am but slow of tongue, Lord Soames. You are the one slow of mind.” She drew a deep breath. “But I make allowances for your ignorance. At least, I hope that is all it is. If ’tis cruelty…” Now she flashed a smile that brought to mind a wolf. “I give warning. Not only does Lady Laura have a friend in my lord husband, but one amongst the Wulfriths.”

He should not be surprised. “Abel Wulfrith is your brother?”

“A most beloved brother.”

Lothaire nodded. “I met him last year upon the barony of Wiltford the day Sir Durand and Lady Beata wed.” Following annulment of Lothaire’s marriage to that lady, which could have ended in spilled blood had he not overtaken the men sent by his mother to murder the newlywed couple, he did not say.

Lady Beatrix appeared taken aback. “Well, assuredly you know our family’s reputation, even if you have had no occasion to engage my brother at swords.”

“I have had occasion. Several. He offered to hone my sword skill at Wulfen, and I accepted. Had the queen not summoned me to court and offered a great incentive to wed Lady Laura, I would be training with Sir Abel now.”

She blinked. “Regardless, as I shall count it an offense should you ill treat Lady Laura and her daughter, so shall my husband and brothers.”

What offended Lothaire were threats and others’ sins cast upon him. He was not Lord Thierry, Lord Gadot, nor Lord Benton. But as anger rose, it occurred to him had Eleanor not pried back the masks worn by the other suitors, he would want such defenders for Laura. And this lady could not know he was not of the same ilk.

“Forgive me, Lady Beatrix. I would not argue with you. And certainly I do not want you to think so ill of me to believe the threat of harm to my person is all that holds me from injuring Lady Laura and her daughter. Our circumstances are difficult, but I am no monster. I am a man wronged, the life promised me stolen and replaced with one that shall ever remind me of how much I lost. I accept my marriage will not be happy, but I am determined neither will it be miserable for either of us. Or Clarice.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I am sorry you do not believe in God.”

He stood straighter. “I believe in God.”

“Do you? Then why is it impossible for your marriage to be happy?”

He blew out a breath. “As told, I do not wish to argue.”

“Then listen. Though Lady Laura should have defended herself long ere—” She closed up so suddenly, he took a step forward.

“Of what do you speak, Lady Beatrix?”

She shook her head. “Anger too much loosens my tongue.”

“How has Lady Laura not defended herself? And how can you think it possible to do so when—” Now he closed up. It was no secret Lady Maude’s ward was seduced by a visiting knight, though it surely would have been had Laura’s body not betrayed her as she had betrayed Lothaire. But that he would not speak of. Suffice that he knew he should have listened to his mother’s warnings against Delilahs and Jezebels. Suffice he knew he was responsible in part for Laura’s sin. Had he not succumbed to temptation, giving them both a taste of kisses and caresses, she might not have fallen prey to desire and given her virtue to a man who left her with living proof of her shame.

Lady Beatrix sighed. “Only one more thing shall I say, Lord Soames, then I will leave you to your rest. Do you gain Lady Laura’s trust—give her cause to love you again—I believe God will bless your marriage far beyond the ability to tolerate each other.”

He needed to gain Laura’s trust? He needed to give her reason to love him? “You have said it, Lady Beatrix.” He gripped the door’s edge. “I shall see you at supper.”

She inclined her head and turned so swiftly her fat braid whipped against the door jamb.

The morn could not come soon enough.