Kieran leaned back in his chair, contentedly full and warm from the roaring fire in the hearth before him.

Upon returning from his tour of the de Valance estate, Kieran, Vivienne, and her father had eaten a simple but hearty meal of meat pies, fresh cheese, and roasted autumnal vegetables. Now they sat before the fire, sipping spiced wine while Vivienne read from her treasured copy of The Song of Roland.

Now that he knew how important the tale was to her, Kieran tried to listen more closely as she read. Yet instead of focusing on the words, all he could seem to pay attention to was the shape of her lips and the rise and fall of her voice as she recited the story.

Hell and damnation, things weren’t going as he’d planned. But he couldn’t seem to work up the energy to pretend indifference. Mayhap it was the wine, or his full belly, or the crackling heat from the fire lulling him into a relaxed torpor. Or mayhap it was because Kieran hadn’t let himself indulge in a tranquil evening like this in ten long years. Whatever the case, he contented himself to simply sit and enjoy Vivienne’s nearness.

What few servants Kieran had seen earlier during the meal had all been shooed away by Madame Claudette, yet the woman herself had remained at de Valance’s bidding. She occasionally rose to refill their cups of wine, but she’d also taken up a chair beside de Valance and joined him in listening to Vivienne read.

When Vivienne reached the end of the tale, de Valance clapped a hand over his heart and sighed.

“Lovely, ma fille, simply lovely,” he said, bending his head toward her. “Might you humor an old man and read another?”

Sadness flickered in Vivienne’s dark eyes. “I only brought this one with me, Papa.”

Even as guilt stabbed Kieran for so callously dismissing the idea of her bringing along all those books from court, de Valance spoke. “I still have a few volumes tucked away somewhere in my solar. Read to me from one of those. A tale of romance, perhaps. Tristan and Iseult?”

Vivienne’s creamy skin flushed in the glow of the fire. “Why a romance?”

De Valance shrugged innocently, yet a knowing smile played on his lips. “Why not? It is a pleasant way to pass the evening. Besides, I thought those sentimental stories were your favorite, Vivi.”

Reluctantly, Vivienne rose. “I’ll go look in the solar.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Claudette said, rising also. To Kieran’s surprise, her cheeks bore a rosy hue as well. “I reorganized the solar not long ago to make it easier for your father to navigate.”

As the women disappeared up the stairs, Kieran settled into the silence, but to his surprise, de Valance set his cup of wine aside and tilted his head toward Kieran intently.

“I may be blind, but I am no fool,” he said. “What goes on between you and my daughter?”

“I am her protector,” Kieran replied, his shoulders tensing. “Naught more.” Damn it all, he hadn’t been expecting an inquisition from her father. And what the hell had the man noticed that made him so sure some spark kindled between them?

“I know my Vivi,” de Valance said, narrowing his sightless eyes. “I can read her like one of those books she cherishes so much, despite the polished manners she learned at court. You, on the other hand, are a mystery.”

“I am a mystery? Yer daughter keeps quite a few secrets herself,” Kieran countered, suddenly eager to redirect de Valance’s focus. The last thing he needed was an overprotective father calling him out for a connection he didn’t understand himself.

De Valance hesitated, his lips working for a moment. “Vivienne has been through a great deal for one so young. And she hides it well, but she still carries the scars inside her heart.”

“Aye,” Kieran replied quietly. “She told me of the death of her mother, and the struggles with the estate.”

“And did she tell you of Guy d’Aubert?”

Kieran stiffened. “Who?”

Just then, he heard Vivienne and Claudette’s soft voices echoing in the stone stairwell.

“That is not my story to tell,” de Valance said. “But listen well, Kieran MacAdams. My daughter may not show it easily, but she has a big heart. If you are truly just her protector, as you say, I would have your promise that no harm will come to her while she’s under your care—either from another or from yourself.”

The man’s words sent a tangled knot of confusion into the pit of Kieran’s stomach, but he didn’t have time to unravel it. The women were about to re-enter the hall. “I promise,” he said just as Vivienne appeared at the base of the stairwell.

“We found it,” Vivienne said, holding up a dusty leather-bound book as she crossed to her chair before the hearth.

“Ah, wonderful,” de Valance replied, his warm smile and relaxed air returning now that Vivienne and Claudette were back. “Might I hear the Chevrefoil section? I remember you always read that well.”

“Chevrefoil?” Kieran said, glancing at Vivienne.

“It means honeysuckle.” Her cheeks pinkened as she settled into her chair once more. “It is part of the story.”

She cracked the book and began reading the verses, but it was an older dialect of French that Kieran couldn’t follow. Still, her words seemed to have an effect on de Valance and Claudette, who’d taken up a chair at his side again.

As Vivienne continued to read, Claudette flushed once more, her gaze continually sliding to de Valance. For his part, de Valance’s hand seemed to be drifting toward Claudette, first resting in his lap, then on his chair’s arm, and at last dangling over the side mere inches from Claudette.

A soft smile came to Claudette’s lips as she gazed down at de Valance’s hand. But then she glanced up at Vivienne, who remained engrossed in her recitation, and the woman’s green eyes clouded, her dark brows drawing together in worry.

Kieran released a surprised breath. Well, well. It seemed that Vivienne wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. Some affection, or mayhap even love, clearly existed between de Valance and Claudette, but apparently they were hiding it from Vivienne.

Vivienne reached the conclusion of her reading and de Valance abruptly jerked his hand away from Claudette. He clapped lightly a few times to cover up the motion.

“You’ve outdone yourself, ma fille,” he said, smiling.

Vivienne returned the smile, but her gaze flicked to Kieran, her eyes hesitant. “What did you think?”

Kieran rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Truth be told, I didnae catch most of that. I couldnae parse the dialect.”

“It is a section in the great love story of Tristan, a noble knight, and Iseult, an Irish princess,” Vivienne said, easing the book closed and hugging it against her chest. “Tristan has been banished from Cornwall by Iseult’s cruel husband, who has learned of their love. They have been forced apart for a year. But Tristan hears that a feast is to take place and he has a chance to see her again. Tristan intercepts her caravan en route to the feast, placing a hazel bough across the path with his name carved into it.”

“Why a hazel bough?” Kieran asked, intrigued despite his usual disinterest in such sentimental tales.

Vivienne’s gaze warmed and grew distant. “It is a symbol of his love for Iseult. Just like the hazelnut tree and the honeysuckle, which grow so entwined that they cannot be separated, so too are he and Iseult bound together by love. They will both die if they are parted. Ni moi sans vous, ni vous sans moi,” she said, reciting one of the lines from the tale. “Neither me without you, nor you without me.”

She blinked, her eyes refocusing on him and that bonny blush returning to her cheeks. “That is why this section is called the Chevrefoil—the honeysuckle.”

“You haven’t told Kieran the ending yet, ma fille,” de Valance prodded, leaning forward in his chair.

“Iseult sees the downed hazel branch and recognizes Tristan’s signal. She slips off to the woods and meets him so that they can share a forbidden tryst. And when it comes time for Iseult to depart once more, they weep, vowing to find a way to be rejoined someday.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. A blunt comment about silly, overly dramatic tales of courtly love rose on Kieran’s tongue, but he locked his teeth to keep it from getting out. Why did some twisted part of him wish to ruin this moment when it clearly meant something to Vivienne?

The truth was, it was easier to hide behind his rough manners and hardened opinions about emotions like love. Yet a larger part of him was now consumed by the need to understand Vivienne better. For all her cold exterior, why was she so entranced by such tales? What hadn’t she told him about her coming of age that made her this way?

And who the bloody hell was Guy d’Aubert?

“It is late,” Vivienne murmured, breaking the laden silence. “I think I will retire for the night.”

“Your old chamber is ready for you, Lady Vivienne,” Claudette said, rising. “I’ll return the book to the solar.”

As Claudette shuffled off with the book, Vivienne moved to her father, who’d hoisted himself to his feet with his cane. They exchanged a kiss on each cheek before embracing warmly.

“All is truly well, Papa?” she murmured. “Madame Claudette is taking good care of you?”

Mayhap Kieran was wrong. Mayhap Vivienne did know—or at least sense—that something intimate existed between her father and the keep’s chatelaine.

De Valance reached for her, cupping her cheek. “Oui, ma fille. I want for naught—except to touch your beautiful face, so like your mother’s, more often.”

Sadness filled Vivienne’s eyes as she embraced her father once more, then moved off toward the stairs leading to the chambers above.

“I’ll be outside yer door if ye have need of me,” Kieran said as she mounted the stairs. He wanted not only Vivienne but de Valance to know that he wouldn’t slacken in his duties to protect her—but he would also keep a solid wooden door between them.

She nodded in acknowledgement over her shoulder before gliding up the stairs.

But instead of following close on her heels, Kieran lingered in the great hall with de Valance.

“Ye are one to lecture me on mysteries and secrets,” he said quietly when he was sure Vivienne couldn’t hear. “I saw what passed between ye and Claudette when Vivienne was reading about forbidden love.”

De Valance stiffened. “You are a warrior, Monsieur MacAdams. What do you know of love?”

“Och, enough to ken it when I see it,” he replied, pushing back the dull ache that thrummed to life once more. “Ye and yer daughter clearly share a deep bond—which ye’re liable to damage by keeping things from her.”

De Valance leaned on his cane, his shoulders suddenly slumping. “Claudette and I…we do not wish to hurt Vivienne by disrespecting the memory of her mother.”

Kieran inhaled, surprised by the man’s candidness. But more than that, de Valance’s words resonated like a struck tuning fork deep in Kieran’s chest. Ten years past, he’d locked his heart away out of respect for Linette and their unborn child. Or had he abandoned his home and built an invisible wall around himself out of some self-preserving instinct that had naught to do with her or the bairn?

Hell and damnation, none of this—Vivienne’s past, this d’Aubert man, de Valance and Claudette’s secret connection—was any of his concern. So why was Kieran involving himself? His only mission was to protect Vivienne from de Soules’s cronies.

Though many mistook Kieran for a brute and a barbarian based on his size, strength, and blunt manner, he was no fool. He knew when others were lying to him—and when he was lying to himself.

The truth was, even before this damn mission got underway, he’d already been too involved, too entangled with Vivienne. Hell, the entire reason he’d petitioned the Bruce to be sent to France to protect her was because he’d already come to care for her in the short time he’d spent with her last summer.

But letting her into his heart meant making himself vulnerable to pain and loss once more—which he’d vowed never to do again. He’d made his own way in the world for the last ten years just fine without opening himself to anyone. He couldn’t risk all that just for a wee slip of a Frenchwoman, no matter what his damn heart had to say about it.

“It isnae my business,” Kieran replied, both to de Valance and himself. “I shouldnae have inserted myself in a family matter. Now if ye’ll excuse me, I’d best get some rest. Vivienne and I will leave at dawn tomorrow.”

De Valance nodded reluctantly. “You seem a good man, Kieran. Please, remember what I said about keeping my Vivi from harm.”

“Aye, I will.”

Kieran headed toward the stairs and began climbing. He’d already made a quick sweep of the keep upon returning from his walk with Vivienne around the estate, so he knew which chamber was hers.

He settled himself on the stone landing outside her door, pulling his plaid around him. But though he was weary, he knew sleep would elude him for a long time to come, for his mind swirled with thoughts of Vivienne.

He’d sworn to protect her, but the more time he spent with her, the more he feared that he was the one in danger of losing everything to the flaxen-haired beauty.