“He’s most fond of you,” Nicholas commented, a strange note of amusement in his voice.
“Aye.” Gillian sat on a nearby stone bench. She had to repeatedly shove the amorous dog off her lap. “When did he arrive?”
“Just before dark the wagons came with all your luggage. He seemed to know just where you were. He raced around the hall, barking at everything until I followed. He led me right to you.” He sat on the bench beside Gillian and scratched the dog between the ears. “Ever since your uncle gave this dog to Alan he just lay around like a miserable rug. Then one dayhe seemed to wake up from a deep sleep and fall in love with you.”
“Odd, isn’t it?”
“Most odd.”
She gave her husband a narrow look. He seemed to have some deeply amusing secret lurking in his eyes. He was probably still thinking about the love philter. Since she didn’t want him to start laughing at her again, she said, “Have you tried the old woman from the village yet? The one accused of witchcraft?”
“Bradana?”
Gillian nodded.
Nicholas’s brows lowered as he grew serious. “No . . . it was kind of you to grant her comfortable quarters. Evan told me of that. She was old and sick . . . she died in her sleep last night.”
Gillian sighed, then asked, “What would you have done had she lived?”
He looked down at his hands. “I would have listened to the accusations and her defense. Then I would have ruled.”
“Howwould you have ruled?”
“Fairly.”
She looked at him curiously, wondering what that meant. She wanted to hear that he would have released her, found her innocent, but he seemed unwilling to admit that.
“Would you have burned her?”
“No.”
Gillian let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding.
“But sometimesfairis a relative term.”
“Relative to what?”
“Crop failure, years of famine. The like.” When she just frowned at him, he leaned a hand on the bench behind her and said, “When I was fifteen, my father was placed in such a situation. I don’t think he believed the witch was guilty, but it had been a bad year and even the earl’s table was wanting. My father knew his people needed something, a scapegoat to blame and punish, to give them hope life would soon improve.”
Gillian let out a horrified breath. “But that’s not fair! It’s not right!”
“Fair. Right. Again, relative terms.” He sighed at her deeply troubled expression. “Fash not, he didn’t burn her. He gave her a minor punishment, and she worked in his kitchens the rest of her days. To keep her out of trouble and out of the villagers’ sight.”
“Would you do the same?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had to.” He put his arm around her and drew her near. “But I have a soft-hearted countess now. You can beg mercy for the accused, and I can grant it. Then I don’t look weak . . . except maybe where you’re concerned. But then, that’s not my fault. I’m under the influence of a love philter, after all.”
Gillian laughed softly and rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to let me forget and pretend your affection is true, are you?”
He shook his head ruefully and bent his head to kiss her.
***
Later that night Nicholas tracked Evan down, locked in his chambers with a woman. She huddled under the blankets, and Nicholas only caught a glimpse of golden hair before Evan stepped into the corridor, closing his door behind him. His normally pale skin was pallid, and he seemed tense and preoccupied. Apparently this woman was more than bed sport. Nicholas could sympathize with his knight’s haggard condition.
“Come with me.”
In his privy chambers Nicholas offered the knight whisky. Evan accepted the cup but didn’t drink. He stood stiffly before Nicholas’s chair.
