Page 112 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“My dear lady.” The baron came close and patted her hand as though she were a naïve little child. The lust in his gaze, though, told he appreciated her as a woman. “Many afflictions can take the life of a wounded warrior. Gangrene. Infection. Fever. Do you not agree, milord?”

Her father nodded, looking a little peakish in the morning light. “’Tis so.”

“My love, do not look so miserable. You shall not have to wed the bastard after all.”

Sedgewick’s leering smile brought Elizabeth such a wave of despair, she wrenched her hand away. “I promised Mildred I would help her change the poultice,” she lied through clenched teeth. “Good day to you, Baron. Father.”

“Wait,” her sire commanded.

Elizabeth halted. She turned, forcing her face into a mask of composure. “Aye, Father?”

“There is an important matter we must discuss.” His gaze traveled over her and softened. Had he sensed the distress she struggled hard to conceal? “Considering the strain of your ordeal,” he went on, “I thought to wait a few days before broaching the topic. Yet, since the baron honors us with his presence, and is eager to see it done, we will speak of it now.”

Speak of what? her mind screamed. She wished to return to Geoffrey’s side, to escape Sedgewick’s lecherous stare, but she could not in good conscience be rude to her father. “Of course,” she said.

A smacking sound drew her gaze to the baron. He shoved the rest of his roll between his teeth, chewed, and stared at her in a manner that implied she was his prized possession. Her skin crawled. He was vile indeed to look at her that way.

After pushing his chair back, Arthur stood, favoring his wounded leg, and smoothed a hand over his brown wool tunic. “When the baron arrived today, he brought a wagon loaded with barrels of wine. Bordeaux, to be exact. The very best to celebrate his nuptials and his new bride.”

“A great kindness,” Elizabeth forced herself to say. “’Tis unfortunate we will not wed.”

Arthur hobbled forward and clasped her hands. “Daughter, that is what we shall discuss.”

Warmth drained from her face. “What?”

“Sedgewick wishes to proceed with your marriage.”

As though from afar, she heard the baron murmur, “I cannot wait, beloved, to make you mine.”

Her father’s hands curled around hers, steadying her, as tremors ran through her body. “I am sorry if the news is a shock, Elizabeth. As the baron said to me earlier, we cannot imagine the horrors you suffered as de Lanceau’s hostage, but Sedgewick assures me he will treat you with kindness. He will do all in his power to diminish your unpleasant memories and be a loving husband.”

Her ears rang. She withdrew her fingers and resisted the urge to throw her head back and shriek. Meeting her father’s gaze, she said, “I cannot wed the baron. I am betrothed to Geoffrey. You said so yourself at Branton Keep before at least one hundred witnesses.”

“Pah! A mockery of an engagement.” Her father shook his head. “I am glad ’twill never result in marriage. ’Tis inevitable de Lanceau will die from his wounds. Upon his passing, you will be free from that accursed arrangement and any loyalty you feel obligated to show him.” He smiled and looked pleased. “You will be free to marry Sedgewick.”

Panic burgeoned inside her. She would never marry the baron. “You do not understand.”

Her sire reached out and touched her cheek. “’Tis best⁠—”

“I love him.”

“You do?” Arthur chuckled and looked at the baron, who slurped wine from a goblet. “Excellent. Sedgewick assures me you will have every luxury you desire.”

“I love Geoffrey.”

Her words seemed to echo like a clap of thunder.

“You… love…” Arthur choked a breath.

Sedgewick’s mouth fell open.

“I swear it upon my soul.” Pride rang clear in her voice.

“You love a traitor’s son?” the baron sneered, spitting wine and clots of bread. “He raped you.”

Elizabeth’s face burned, but she refused to back down from his glare and the accusation in his slitted eyes. “He did not.”

The baron slammed down the goblet. “Do you deny he stole your virtue?”