The Protector by Madeline Hunter Page B

vows.”
    “They cannot marry without the duke's permission. There will be a fee that we can hardly afford—”
    “Anna, Catherine is with child. I had suspected, but they finally told me last night.”
    She stared over the battlements. Besides shock she felt more than a little annoyance. Weren't there enough problems without this? Would it have been so hard for Catherine to have waited just a little while longer? But then she remembered herself in Morvan's arms, and her anger disappeared.
    “Poor Ascanio, you leave them with this news and then find me. You must think the women in our family are harlots.”
    “I think the women in your family are full of life and passion. Actually, there is some gold in this development. If something should happen to you tomorrow, there is nothing to stop Gurwant from turning to Catherine. His plans for you would work just as well with her. But with her married and with child she is safe from him. Even if Josce is gone, she and the estate are secure.”
    There was great sense in what he said. She had worried about Catherine's future if she died in an attack that failed.
    “You should go and see them. They are waiting for you now in the solar.”
    She headed down from the wall walk, steeling herself for a very awkward conference. It didn't help to know that she had lost her right to moral indignation.
    The wedding was a poor affair, with the pall of battle hanging over everyone. Josce and Catherine did not seem to notice. Morvan watched their joy in each other, and a hollow spot thumped in his heart. Even the most hardened man could not but be touched by the way they looked in each other's eyes as they joined in love.
    A small attempt was made to mimic a feast at theevening meal. At the end Anna escorted her sister upstairs.
    Morvan waited for her to return. When the night grew old and still she did not, he went looking for her.
    If she thought that he was going to accept her decision to join the battle, she was mistaken. All day he had been plagued by images of her dead on the field. Fouke and Haarold might not care if she died, and Ascanio might assume that angels protected her, but a tight knot in his stomach had convinced Morvan that he would not let her ride tomorrow.
    Without looking, he knew that she was not in her chamber. He found her in the solar, sitting in the large, carved chair, gazing into the hearth fire. Her curls were wild about her head, as if she had just risen from a bed in which she could not sleep. A green robe, overlarge like most of her men's garments, wrapped her loosely. She held her sword, its tip resting on the floor, its hilt lax in her hand.
    She looked at the flames as if she didn't really see them. He felt her mood as he'd always been able to since that first night. Sadness and resignation emanated from her. Something else too. Confusion?
    She did not even look at him when he stepped into the chamber, as if she had known he was coming.
    Aye, she
had
known. They were tied to each other in that way. She might not speak of it, might want to deny it, but it was there. Every time he entered her presence, the sense of raw connection sharpened again.
    “Contemplating the morning?” he asked.
    “I was thinking of Catherine and Josce.”
    That did not surprise him. If he had felt a twinge of envy, what must she have experienced?
    “She appeared so mature, suddenly,” she said. “Poised and grown up. And Josce—when did he get so tall and broad? They were children when I returned from the abbey, I'm sure. I find myself wondering how long I have been blind. I am thinking that I live an illusion in believing that I am needed here.”
    “They are still young, married or not. You are needed.”
    “Nay. I have been letting the freedom seduce me, but I can feel the truth at the door. It will be over soon.”
    “Not so soon. Not tomorrow.”
    It came out too sharply. That pulled her out of her reverie.
    She rose, sword still dragging from her hand, and turned a