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“She…was.” Branford took a long breath and tugged at his hair with his fingers. “She lived but a few weeks before an illness took her.”
So this was not going to help us at all, but just another piece of information Branford had never thought to bestow upon me.
“Did you not think it was important to tell me you had a child before?”
“She did not live,” Branford said with a shake of his head. “I do not wish to—”
“To burden me!” I cried out and saw him startle. “I know you do not! And yet you do all the time by not giving me the information I need to know!”
“I am surprised Sunniva never told you.”
“She should not have to tell me!” I said. I also stood and took several steps toward him as he backed away. “What else should I know?”
“Nothing, Alexandra, I swear,” he said as he continued to tug at his hair.
Without warning, Branford’s eyes widened, and his head tilted a little to one side. He rushed toward me and grabbed me by my arms. For the briefest moment, I was frightened. I had raised my voice and insulted not only my husband but my king.
His reaction surprised me.
His lips crashed against mine, and his mouth stole my breath. He was not gentle but kissed me as his hands groped my body, and his tongue eagerly sought my mouth. He pulled my body close to his, turning me to the side and away from the path where we had entered the meadow. His mouth left mine as he kissed up the side of my jaw.
His lips touched my ear.
“Do not stop,” he whispered softly. “We have been followed, and they are close, but do not stop.”
“Branford…” I tried to catch my breath, my eyes wide.
“Close your eyes!” he said, and I quickly complied. His grip on me tightened.
“Who?”
“I do not know,” he replied. “But I have no doubt—”
Branford was interrupted by a short scream from the woods. There were the sounds of a scuffle and the breaking of branches, followed by another muffled groan and a thump.
“Sire!” I heard Sir Brigham’s voice coming from the woods near the path.
Branford pulled me behind him as he took a step forward.
“Brigham!” he called out. “Where is Dunstan?”
“I’m here, sire!” Dunstan called out. I saw movement in the trees and recognized his shuffling walk. “It is safe.”
Branford trailed his hand down my arm and grasped my fingers. He pulled me behind him as he approached the group. Dunstan had his crossbow drawn, and Sir Brigham’s sword was in his hand as well, the metal shining with dark blood. There were two men on the ground, one with an arrow through his throat and the other with a sword wound through his back.
I gasped, and Branford turned to pull my head to his chest.
“Close your eyes, Alexandra,” he whispered into my hair and then addressed the two men. “I told you not to attack.”
“He was taking aim, sire,” Dunstan said. “I know this one. I remember him from the war.”
“Randall,” Sir Brigham replied. “He led one of the groups against us. This other one, though—I have never seen him before.”
“I know who he is,” Branford said. I looked up from his chest and saw him scowling at the ground. I could feel his heart hammering underneath my cheek.
“Sire?” Sir Brigham inquired.
“His name,” Branford said after he took a long breath, “was Dalton. He helped murder my father and mother.”
