Untamed by Elizabeth Lowell

appalling what some men of God do in God’s name.”
    â€œAmen,” Duncan said.
    And meant it. Some of the things he had seen done by men of God to other men of God during the Holy War would haunt him until the day he died.
    â€œI suspect,” Simon said slowly, “that was when Dominic decided to kill John. The thought of a man marrying his bastard son to his own daughter sickened my brother. Dominic thought no better of the ambitious bastard who would marry his own half sister. Once the facts were known, King Henry would raise no objections to the hangings.”
    A soft whistle came from between Duncan’s teeth as he understood how close to death he still was.
    â€œMeggie isn’t my sister.”
    It was Simon’s turn to be surprised. And relieved. He admired the Scots Hammer’s audacity and courage. Under other circumstances, they might have been friends.
    â€œI am pleased to hear it,” Simon said simply.
    â€œSee that your brother hears it as well.”
    Simon looked closely at Duncan and smiled thinly.
    â€œYou begin to understand,” Simon said, nodding. “Dominic is as savage a man in battle as I have ever seen, because he considers war to be a failure of intelligence that must be hacked through as quickly as possible. ’Tis ever so much more useful to have peace, you see.”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œNeither do I,” Simon admitted.
    The two men looked at each other and laughed.
    Dominic turned at the sound of male laughter, saw Duncan and Simon, and shook his head.
    â€œWhat is it?” Meg asked.
    â€œMy brother and the Scots Hammer.”
    Meg looked puzzled.
    â€œThey’re laughing together like friends,” Dominic explained, “yet they came within a single breath of trying to kill one another in the church.”
    â€œPerhaps that is why they are laughing. They are alive and it is spring and a feast awaits in the great hall. What more could they require of life at this moment?”
    Gray eyes focused on Meg. Slowly Dominic nodded as he considered what she had said.
    â€œYou are very wise, for a maid.”
    She slanted him a green-eyed glance and said dryly, “Wiser than many a man, I assure you.”
    One corner of Dominic’s mouth lifted in a smile. “I shall remember that.”
    Dominic and Meg continued across the bailey through the throng of vassals, making slow progress. It seemed that each tenant, cotter, freeholder, and serf must assure himself personally of Meg’s well-being. Eadith waited rather impatiently at the edges of the crowd, plainly wishing access to her mistress.
    â€œWhat is it, Eadith?” Meg asked finally. “Come forward.”
    The vassals parted for the handmaiden’s progress. The light of day wasn’t as kind to her clothing as it was to Meg’s. Eadith’s poverty—and that of the Blackthorne Keep itself—showed clearly in her mantle gone threadbare from much use.
    â€œLord John is feeling the strain of the day quite keenly,” Eadith said. “He wishes to give the wedding toast soon.”
    Meg closed her eyes for an instant. She dreaded having to face John’s wrath.
    Dominic saw Meg’s reluctance. He put his arm about her waist under her mantle. The warmth and resilience of her body beneath the silver fabric sent a shaft of heat through him.
    â€œTell John,” Dominic said, “that we will join him shortly.”
    Startled, Eadith looked at Dominic. His expression told her she had better become accustomed to taking orders from him. She nodded hurriedly and pressed through the crowd. The pale orange of her dress and the shimmer of her long blond hair showed clearly against the keep’s damp stone as she climbed the steps to the forebuilding.
    Dominic looked down into Meg’s shadowed eyes and guessed the reason for her unease.
    â€œYou are my wife. I protect what is mine. Your father’s ambitions will