The Price of Freedom by Carol Umberger Page A

offers.”
    She shook loose of his grip but did not back away. “’Tis all that’s important to one such as you, isn’t it? A legitimate title and fortune?”
    Losing all patience with her, he replied, “You may believe what you wish, Lady Kathryn. It changes naught. I will do my best to persuade King Robert to free you from sullying your precious bloodline with the likes of me. But make no mistake: If he insists, then we will marry.”
    â€œWhether I wish to or not.”
    â€œAye. And whether I wish to or not.”
    She stared in disbelief. “You would force me?”
    He didn’t answer.
    â€œYou are a cruel, unfeeling brute.”
    â€œAnd you, Countess, would do well to remember your manners.”
    They stood toe to toe, glaring at each other, neither giving an inch. Because of her unusual height, her head reached his chin; she barely had to look up to meet his gaze. Her eyes blazed with indignation.
    Her willingness to confront him—Black Bryan, warrior knight— kindled his admiration. Admiration soon turned to longing, for what he did not know. He fought the urge to seize her shoulders and kiss her, to mark her as his. To prove she desired him as much as he desired her. Insanity. Then he strode past her and out of the stable, shaken, confused, and badly in need of his father’s advice.
    BRYAN RETREATED TO THE SOLAR where he paced the room from end to end, seeking to escape his tangled emotions. Her rejection had stung, especially since she’d found his most vulnerable point and, like a skilled warrior, had stabbed hard at the weak link in his armor.
    His relationship to Bruce had never been publicly acknowledged. Bryan had gained a reputation as a fierce warrior and a man of honor. Few people, whether they knew his parentage or not, dared to insult him for any reason.
    Yet this woman had the audacity to do just that. And he’d completely lost his senses and made marriage sound like a mercenary payment, a duty to be performed. No woman wanted to hear such a thing. They wanted declarations of undying love, or at the least, gentle words of kindness. Hadn’t she said as much?
    But he feared soft words and kindness—they would weaken him—weaken his resolve to keep his emotions disengaged.
    The room seemed to shrink; he craved open space and fresh air. Bryan found Adam and Thomas and in as few words as possible told them he was going to Bruce’s camp and would return tomorrow night.
    Thomas objected. “I’ll go with you.”
    â€œI’m in no mood for company, Thomas.”
    â€œFine. I won’t talk to you. But you’ll not ride out alone.”
    Adam said, “He’s right—”
    â€œAll right. All right. Saddle up, Thomas, and be quick about it.”
    Then Bryan fled the castle, looking neither right nor left, and returned to the stable. He needed to put time and space between himself and that woman, time to clear his head and rein in his temper.
    And any other misbegotten emotions that threatened to surface.
    His stallion whinnied a welcome at Bryan’s return. “Steady, lad. Since you seem to be sound again, let’s take a good run today,” he said. He placed the bit in the stallion’s mouth and pulled the bridle stall over the animal’s ears. With practiced movements he finished saddling, led the horse out of the barn and then mounted and urged the horse into a trot. When they’d cleared the drawbridge he set his heels to the animal’s side and Cerin responded with a spirited canter, Thomas following behind.
    Despite the distraction of the powerful horse beneath him and the scenery passing by, Bryan’s thoughts returned to his confrontation with Kathryn. He leaned low over the great beast’s neck and said, “By the saints, Cerin, why didn’t I tell her about my vow?”
    Bryan had never told anyone of his resolve not to marry until the war was over. Until