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The fire from the hearth heated Bria’s cheeks, as well as her anger. Her gaze was trained on the group of men gathered about her father, all come to Castle Delaney to win her hand in marriage. She’d been briefly introduced to all of them, but couldn’t remember a single one of their names. Garret was the only man she knew.

They were all seated around her father, talking earnestly to him, no doubt boasting about their prowess in battle or the size of their coffers. She shook her head and turned her gaze back to the fire.

Maybe they should spend more time wooing me instead of my father, she thought with disgust. Not that she wanted them to pay attention to her. She’d done everything in her power to discourage their attentions during the last three weeks, which was undoubtedly why they’d turned their attentions to her father.

One of the castle dogs wandered by and nudged her fingers. Bria absently scratched the animal’s head. She missed Mary so, and she couldn’t stop thinking about that night. Maybe she shouldn’t take all the blame. If Mary hadn’t run out to help the Widow Anderson... Bria shook her head. For weeks, Mary had been so angry about the taxes Lord Knowles was imposing on them she would have run out to help Widow Anderson even if she’d been surrounded by twenty armed men.

Bria thought back to the poor farmer selling rotten apples and shriveled corn. He’d been so grateful for her assistance. The poor people of Knowles. What a tyrant! Bria began to shake her head, wishing she could help them.

Laughter erupted from the group of suitors, drawing her attention. The pompous buffoons. They could help Knowles’ people if they wanted to. But they were too self-absorbed to be any good to her, even Garret. She wished she could talk to him about what to do, what needed to be done to help the people. But he’d just brush her aside and tell her there was nothing to do. Bria knew nothing was further from the truth.

“You’ll have to choose one of them.”

Bria glanced aside to see her grandfather standing beside her chair. She grunted softly. “I’ll choose the one who apprehends Mary’s murderer.”

Harry sighed. “Garret is a fine man,” he encouraged, ignoring her comment.

“Garret is a good friend,” Bria retorted, crossing her arms stubbornly and leaning back in her chair. “I just can’t see him as my husband.”

“You’d better see someone as your husband,” Harry warned, “or your father will choose for you.”

Bria’s scowl deepened. “Maybe they can win his hand in marriage.” She jerked her head toward the group around her father. With that, she stood up and headed out of the Great Hall.

For the remainder of the day she avoided her suitors. She spent time embroidering, which she hated, but no one would think to look for her in the small room with the rest of her ladies. She spent time in the kitchens trying to help the cook, but getting in the way more than not.

Finally, she retired to her room, skipping the last dinner completely. It was only now, late at night, that Bria could finally relax. She sat on the window ledge, staring at the moon floating high in the dark sky. It was almost full, a sliver of it gone as if an artist had chiseled it away. Or maybe a lover had stolen a piece of it to give to his fair lady, Bria thought wistfully. She wondered if she’d ever feel that kind of love. She didn’t think so.

Suddenly, the pounding of horses’ hooves sounded in the courtyard. She glanced down from her seat on the window ledge as a group of five soldiers thundered in.

They came to a halt in the middle of the inner ward and dismounted. One man gave orders. Bria couldn’t hear the words, only the resonance of his voice echoing off the castle walls. The men moved to obey his commands. The leader stood, his hands planted on his hips, gazing up at the keep. He reached up to slide his chain mailed hood from his head. Flowing black hair fell about his shoulders.

Bria squinted, trying to make out the man’s face, but he was too far away and the night was too dark. She shrugged slightly. Rude of him to be coming this late at night, Bria thought. Her father was in bed and couldn’t welcome him properly.

As if to confirm her thoughts, her father’s personal servant rushed out in a long night dress to greet the leader, bowing humbly. One of the soldiers moved to the leader’s side. Together they turned to gaze at her.

Bria straightened her shoulders. If she’d been closer, she would have been able to see his face, his eyes. As it was, she could see neither. But his gaze pinned her where she sat. Strangely, a tingle raced along her shoulder blades.

He gazed at her for a long moment and then turned toward the servant. After a moment, he followed the servant up the stairs and into the keep.

Bria watched until he’d disappeared inside the doors and they were closed behind him. She narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering who the arrogant lord was. She hoped he wasn’t another suitor, but she knew he was.

The next morning, Bria stood in the outer ward, staring at the lowered drawbridge, wishing her father had asked her to go hunting with him. Instead, he’d taken her suitors. She was surprised when even Garret had gone.

“What troubles you?”

Bria shook herself from her thoughts and turned from the entrance to look at her grandfather.

Harry smiled warmly at her. “There are other places you’d like to be, eh?” He leaned close to her. “Me, too.”

Bria smiled and returned her gaze to the soft blue velvet in her hand. She placed the fabric down on the merchant’s cart and moved to the next fabric. Harry trailed behind her as she softly touched the material and then moved to the next fabric laid out on the wooden pushcart in the outer ward.

The merchant said to her grandfather, “Perhaps some beautiful satin will make her happy.”

Her grandfather glanced at him, but didn’t answer.

Bria didn’t even look at the merchant. Her mind was occupied by the five men hunting with her father. She didn’t want to marry any of them. Bria shook her head, trying to shake the feeling of trepidation mounting inside her at her pending betrothal. She could only hope someone else would show up to rescue her from the sinking feeling growing deeper in the pit of her stomach.

“You went to Castle Knowles after Mary’s death, didn’t you?” Harry asked.