PROLOGUE
A twig broke in the grass just outside, and then another. Crackle. Crack.
Sean, who had thought himself alone, jumped. The dagger he was sharpening cut into his finger and he yelled, and then turned to see who'd interrupted him.
“What the..? Camden?” Sean set his dagger and his whetstone beside him. He scowled at his friend.
“I'm sorry.” His friend, the new Lord Camden, didn't sound it – he was far too cheerful-sounding to seem that. “I thought you knew I'd come down.”
“No,” Sean said tightly. “I didn't.”
“Well?” Camden asked. “You look troubled. What's worrying you?” He took a seat opposite Sean, drawing the whetstone down his own blade a few times, sharpening the edge. It was the armory, after all, and there was still just enough light outside to get work done.
“So?” Camden insisted. “You look troubled. What is it?”
Sean sighed. Today, everything was getting on his nerves. His friend's cheerfulness, the wretched dagger-edge that stubbornly refused to sharpen, and even the scrape of the whetstone. “Nothing,” he said tightly.
Camden didn't reply. Sean bent down to the blade again, frowning in concentration. Why in perdition wouldn't it hold its edge? When he looked up, his friend was frowning at him. “What?” he said irritably.
“It's her, aye?”
Sean sighed. “Aye. Fine. I'll admit it. Yes.”
Camden, his friend and companion, nodded. “I understand. Lady Marguerite's bonny.”
Sean spat. “Bonny? That's a poor description.”
Camden chuckled.
“What?” Sean said.
“You do have it badly, don't you? Well, that's good, isn't it? What's wrong?”
Sean sighed. “I am in love with Lady Marguerite. Yes. You know that.”
“But?”
Sean shook his head. Looked at his hands. “You know why I can't tell anyone.”
It wasn't a question of rank. Sean might only have been the son of a baron, but he was Sir Sean, knight, and increasing his reputation daily. Marguerite was the daughter of a French baron and a Scottish lady. They were perfectly acceptable as a couple. No, it wasn't a matter of rank. It was the past.
“Sean...that was a long time ago,” Camden ventured.
Sean raised a brow. “So? I never heard that time made things easier. Did you?”
“No,” Camden admitted.
“Quite.” The reason for Sean's reluctance to speak floated through his mind, lovely as a summer day and cruel as April's frost. Irmengard. Sean had been completely obsessed with her. She had, he thought now, had no soul. Cruel and cutting, she had led him to the edge of madness. He wasn't willing to go there again.
Lady Marguerite was an area of his life he didn't want to broach. Not now. Maybe never, Sean. Maybe he would never be ready for that kind of love again.
“Sean?”
“What?” Sean snapped.
“Sorry,” Camden said wearily. “I can see my company's not helping much.”
Sean heard the chair scrape back across the flagstones. He was as angry with Camden, just now. Camden had it all. A beautiful wife, a fine child. Happiness. The instant the thought crossed his mind, he knew how unfair it was. It wasn't Camden's fault. “Camden...” he sighed.
Camden gave him a lopsided grin. “We can settle it tomorrow in the jousts.”
“I take that seriously,” Sean replied. He grinned.
“Good!” Camden said after a long moment. He grinned in response, and suddenly they could have been boys, challenging each other as they'd done for years. He stood. “I'm heading off to bed. Young Joanna kept me awake last night. I need to catch up on a good night's sleep.”
Sean grinned at him. “Goodnight.”
Camden shot him a look. “I hope it is.” He smiled. “Or I'll be lethal tomorrow. Or useless – which is more likely by far.”
They were both laughing when he left.
Sean sat alone in the silence long after his friend had gone. He hoped that somehow, he could learn to trust and reach out for the beautiful Lady Marguerite and all the joys life could offer. If only he could dare to open his heart to love again.