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“I do not know,” he said, the honesty in his words highlighted by a deep frown. “I do not know,” he repeated, picking up a silver goblet of fine French wine. “But, for the sake of our country, I dearly hope he does.”
All three of them fell silent then. A wave of longing washed over Sabine, more intense for their discussion. Guy should be here. To discuss this matter. To hold her. To make love to her. To be her husband.
The part of Sabine that had feared needing him, or anyone, had retreated. Was it so horrible to be loved and protected by a man? When that man was Guy Lavallais? The answer was clearer now than it had been before coming to Licheford.
Unfortunately, she feared it might be too late.
Chapter 33
When Licheford Castle rose before him, Guy stopped. Something he’d done little of since leaving Noreham. He’d ridden hard, likely too hard, to get here. Consoling himself that his message must have arrived ahead of him, Guy took a deep, calming breath, Arion dancing under him.
Almost there.
He’d been haunted by the memory of the last time he’d seen Sabine. The look of terror on her face. The horror he’d felt at the notion that she might be hurt on his account.
He’d known then but still had not admitted it. Everything had become clear to him in his conversation with Noreham.
Guy was not so foolish to think he could live without Sabine, the woman he had very deliberately pushed away. He could only hope it was not too late.
Spurring his horse forward, this brief hesitation his last, Guy finally thundered through the gatehouse after startling the poor guards with his shouts demanding entry. He sped past scared servants and more than one of Conrad’s retainers, who looked at him as if the devil had just ridden through the gates.
Which was not terribly far from the truth.
Since that day at the tournament, he’d been to Licheford many times. They knew him here, as they did Terric and Lance, but that did not mean his mad run through the courtyard would go unnoticed. It was only when he burst into the hall to find it empty that he stopped to consider she might not be here.
Roger had confirmed this as her destination. But had she made it to Licheford safely? Had she already left?
“Guy?”
He spun around at the voice.
Conrad crossed his arms, looking decidedly angry.
“You are alive.”
He searched frantically for Sabine.
“Where is she?”
“Tell me how you come to stand here, unharmed. Did you pass the archbishop as you left? And where are the men I sent to Noreham?”
“Archbishop? Men?”
“Aye. When Sabine arrived—”
His knees buckled under him. “She’s here?”
“When she arrived with word of your capture, I sent a contingent of men to assess the situation.”
“Where. Is. She?”
And then, finally noticing Conrad’s expression, he added, “I know not about your men. They never arrived at Noreham, or if they did, I was not aware of it.”
“Guy?”
He’d begun to convince himself he would never hear her voice again. Spinning toward the heavenly sound, he took in her deep purple gown and the hair piled artfully atop her head. Sabine looked every bit the noblewoman he did not deserve.
He did not hesitate.
