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Suddenly it seemed a simple matter to obey her heart and ignore the warnings her mind was screaming at her. Rose reached up to the bars, and her voice was firm and authorative, as if she really was in control of the situation. “I will not allow you to die for a man like Gilbert, Harold. You were justified in what you did, and so I will tell Lord Fitzmorton. But…” She took a deep breath. “If he is not to take matters into his own hands, we must win Lord Radulf to our side. I will send word back to him with his messenger. At such a time as this, he will be in a mood to grant favors.”
Harold looked away, but she had already seen the grave doubts in his eyes. “There is danger for you in that, lady,” he murmured uneasily. “Are you sure—”
“Aye! She must send word to Lord Radulf!” Eartha was breathless with her enthusiasm, her pretty face aglow. “He is a man, and only men have power over life and death.
“Women, too,” said Rose. “Remember, tonight we celebrate the birth of Lady Lily’s son.”
But Eartha seemed incapable of making the connection, far too single-minded. She came forward to the little barred window. “I will tell Millisent. Fear not, Harold, I will care for her and Will. You were always kind to me and my little boy, and now I will repay that kindness.”
Watching them, Rose felt hollow. Lord Radulf might well grant her her wish, but he would no longer see her as a safe vassal to hold Somerford. He would speedily replace her, and how could she blame him? She would save Harold’s life, but at the expense of saving herself.
Rose stumbled as she climbed the last step from the cell, her legs heavy, her heart heavier. Would Radulf return her to her father or would he marry her to another of his vassals? Whatever fate he decided for her, it amounted to the same. She would be given away like a counter in a game. A game she had tried so hard to play to the advantage of her people, and had now lost.
She remembered again her father’s face, half illuminated by the candles upon the table.
“You will marry this Edric, although he is not worthy of you. Radulf and I have agreed upon it.”
“And you swear to leave me be, Father? You swear you will not use me in your games?”
“Games?” he mocked. “War is no game!”
“I want to live my life quietly. I want to pretend I am no longer your daughter.”
He laughed harshly, and she might have thought she had hurt his feelings.
If he had a heart.
“Lady?”
Rose started. Turning swiftly, she found one of the mercenaries standing behind her, a shadow in the shadows. Gunnar? The longing in the thought shocked her, and she tensed defensively, drawing herself up to play the part of indifference. But it was not Gunnar who came toward her with intent dark eyes.
“Ivo? What do you here?”
“I am obeying Captain Olafson’s orders, my lady.”
Rose frowned, trying to ignore the manner in which he towered over her—why did all these mercenaries have to be so tall! “And what orders are they, Ivo?”
“I am to keep you safe, lady.”
Something trickled through her, something warm and comforting and completely unfamiliar. Gunnar Olafson wanted her safe.
Of course he does! Fool. You are paying him to keep you safe!
The mocking voice brought her feet back to the bailey with a jolt. Ivo was watching her with a carefully blank look in his eyes that made her wonder whether she had just given herself away.
“I doubt I will be carried off in the midst of my own keep,” she said coolly. “Your captain would do better trying to catch the attackers than watching me.” And she set off briskly back toward the great hall.
But Ivo simply ambled along beside her. “He has his reasons, lady, and I would trust him above all other men. He is good at what he does.”
Rose glanced at him curiously. There had been a great deal of admiration in Ivo’s voice but, more than that, there had been affection. The question was out before she could stop it. “You have known him for a long time, Ivo?”
He smiled—he had a nice smile. It completely transformed the fierce angles of his face. “He saved my life, lady. I would be dead now if it were not for Gunnar. The others will say the same, Alfred and Sweyn, Ethelred and Reynard. He has saved all our lives, in different ways. We would give those lives back, if it meant saving his.”
He was completely serious, thought Rose with wonder. What sort of man was this, to inspire such complete and total loyalty?
“You were in Wales before you came here.” It was not really a question.
Ivo nodded. “Wild country and wild people. Somerford is better, even if my brother is here.” He stopped, as if he had said more than he wanted.
