Page 25

Chapter 11

“Refuses to come out?”

He tried to do what Sabine had suggested, but deep breathing did not help. Not this time. He could feel the familiar creeping of heat up his neck.

He’d wondered why she hadn’t answered in response to his knocking this morning, but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t thought she’d simply ignore him. That she’d refuse to say goodbye. Now he stood in the great hall, pacing. His pulse like a rabbit’s. He’d thought he would at least see her one more time . . .

“Conrad,” Guy said, using a tone no one else would dare take with him. “Your men are waiting.”

He looked from the mercenary to his wife. They were ready, all of them, to leave Licheford and begin the next part of this dangerous adventure. He and Terric would leave this morn, since their voyages would take longer, and Guy and Lance would depart on the morrow. They’d meet outside of London around the same time.

The plan was set. The courtyard was filled with men and supplies. All was at the ready, except . . . he could not leave. Not like this.

Not without saying goodbye.

“I am sorry,” Sabine said, just as she had the evening before when Cait had not come down to the evening meal. Despite promising himself he would not do so, Conrad had gone to her, only to find an empty chamber. The condition of the bed covers and the way the chairs were turned about made it look as if the other ladies had gathered there earlier.

While he should have been thinking of their plans, ensuring all was ready, Conrad had lain awake wondering why Cait had come all this way if simply to avoid him. The same question assailed him now.

Well, it would have to remain another mystery. There was much to be done, and he could no longer concern himself with the whims of a woman who clearly did not want to be found. It seemed to be Cait’s specialty.

Guy and Sabine sat to break their fast, but Conrad kept up his pacing, nearly running into Terric. He immediately asked him the very question he’d promised himself he would not ask.

“Have you spoken to your sister?”

His friend gave him a look that made him immediately regret having spoken.

“You’re angry,” he said, not for the first time since the group had arrived in Licheford.

Terric shot a glance at the table, where Lance and Idalia had joined Guy and Sabine, then ushered Conrad to the side of the hall.

“Understandably so,” Conrad continued. “But we leave today to force the hand of a king.”

Terric crossed his arms, unimpressed with the seriousness of their circumstances. “You corresponded with my sister. For years. And never thought to make mention of it?”

Conrad clenched his jaw—he knew he deserved that, and in truth, he had no real response. Of course he had thought to make mention of it. Many, many times. But Cait had begged him not to do so. A fact he would let her share with her brother, if she had not done so already.

It was not his place to say anything.

“You should speak to Cait about that.”

Terric threw up his hands. “If she’d not bolted herself inside her bedchamber, I’d have done so. She tells me little, yet she risked her life to be here. Why, Conrad? Why now? I know you spoke with her, at least once.”

Conrad caught his marshal’s eye from across the hall. The man made a gesture indicating it was time. Nodding, he turned his attention back to Terric.

“The men are ready.”

Terric didn’t move.

He sighed. “I spoke to her, but we resolved nothing.”

“Do you love her?”

It was the one question he hadn’t expected. How much had Cait told him? He decided he would be as honest as possible without betraying her confidence.

“I did, once.”

“But no longer?”