Page 3

She looked at Sara and Emma’s expectant faces. They had been in good spirits all day, preparing for the May Day celebration that had brought her family here. Gillian did not want to sour the mood and tried her best to appear pleased.

“It is indeed true, though the betrothal has not been formalized yet. You will have to tell me all you know about being a good countess.”

Sara and Emma exchanged a glance.

Sara would pursue this. It wasn’t in her nature to do otherwise. So be it. “And you—”

“Have no choice in the matter,” she said with finality in her voice.

While her childhood friend’s expression gave nothing away, Emma’s scrunched-up nose conveyed her thoughts clearly. “Isn’t he the one who gave support to—”

“Aye, he is the one.” Gillian had expected their disdain. The Earl of Covington lent his support to a man that tried to steal Sara’s claim to Kenshire. When that did not work, the man had tried to kill her. “He lacks honor and is loyal only to his title and coin.”

“And he’s old,” Sara finished. “With poor judgment. The same man who supported Fitzwarren.”

Gillian pushed aside the unease, as Sara was right. Unfortunately, an unwanted vision of the wrinkled earl was more difficult to get rid of. “There is nothing to recommend him,” she said bluntly.

“Your father facilitated this match?” Sara asked, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

“Aye.” She squeezed back and pulled away. “Just as he and Mother were married to forge an alliance between two powerful Northumbrian barons,” she said, more for Emma’s benefit than Sara’s. Neighbors and friends since before they had memories, she and Sara knew everything about each other. In fact, this was the first time she’d ever held something back from her. But the matter was simply too embarrassing to discuss. And this was a celebration to welcome spring and Sara’s baby son. She’d not seen her friend in some time, and she’d not dampen it with her troubles.

“It is a daughter’s duty to marry according to her father’s will. Unfortunately, my father wills this match.”

Sara gave her a pointed look. “You’ve always done what was right. Acquiesced to your parents, your father, in all things. But this? Gillian, listen to me . . . you can say no. Your father is much like my own in many ways.”

All three women crossed themselves in honor of Sara’s father, the late Richard Caiser.

“He will listen. How could he even think to marry you to such a man? Covington is—”

“’Tis done,” she said, her voice firm.

Even though she’d agreed just the day before and the earl had not yet been notified, it mattered not. This wedding would take place. It had to take place.

Otherwise, her father—her family—would be ruined, something she couldn’t bear to contemplate.

“We can talk about the old earl another time. I’d much prefer to hear about you and how you came to be with Garrick,” she said to Emma. Turning to Sara, she added, “And the babe. Tell me everything. What is it like? Was childbirth awfully painful? Did you—”

“You’re as impatient as Emma,” Sara said. “I will tell you everything. As long as you promise to discuss Covington tomorrow. Do not think the matter is settled.”

Gillian knew that tone, which had become even more inflexible since Sara’s ascension to countess. She would not let the matter go, which ensured she would face another discussion about her unwanted future husband the next day.

“Very well,” she relented. “Tomorrow. But only happy thoughts today.”

Which meant no more talk of her upcoming nuptials.

2

“Spring may be coming, but it certainly feels more like winter today.” Gillian had escaped her father’s watchful eye by accompanying Lady Emma on an early-morning ride. Sara and her sister had remained behind in order to greet the guests who’d begun to stream in through the gates of the heavily fortified Kenshire Castle. Back home, she could walk from one end of Lyndwood to the other while singing The Song of Roland. Not so here.

They’d just returned and given their horses to a groom when a gust of wind forced Gillian to pull her cloak more tightly around her.

“If the sun comes out, there’ll be no need of those,” Emma said.

Both women looked up at the sky, which gave no indication of its intentions for the day. “So tell me, what does Sara have planned for the next few days?”

Emma rubbed her hands together. “Never mind Sara. Cook has been preparing a feast like ‘none along the border have ever seen.’ She adores Hayden, as we all do, and says he deserves a king’s welcome.”

Sara’s newborn son was a lucky boy indeed. “Your brother is so gentle with him.”