had been fond of Eric. Unusually so. When he’d been a youth she had had a crush on him. Before he had won his manor and gone away, sight of him had filled her with secret longings. Surely he couldn’t have changed that much? ‘I demand you untie me.’
‘You won’t scream or try and run back to the convent?’
‘No.’ Her chin lifted. ‘Not immediately, at any rate.’
His eyes danced and Rowena remembered something else about Sir Eric. He could be charming when he chose, the castle maids had adored him. With a slight huff, she turned to face the tree so he could reach her bonds. Leaning her cheek against the bark, she felt his fingers on her wrists.
‘Hold still, my lady, I don’t want to cut you.’
The rope gave. Turning, Rowena rubbed her wrists and glared at him.
‘Why are you doing this, sir?’ She searched her mind for possible explanation. This was Eric, for heaven’s sake—he had played with her as a child, they had learned to read together. It was hard to believe ill of him. ‘Is this a wager of some kind?’
His jaw tightened. Gesturing her towards a patch of sunlight, he spread his cloak on the ground. ‘Please sit, my lady.’
Rowena stood firm. Her foot tapped. ‘Sir?’
‘No wager.’ His eyes held hers. Above them, leaves rustled in the breeze. Dappled light played over his hair.
She looked back down the hill. ‘What happened to Aylmer?’
‘He’s your groom?’
She nodded. ‘Did you hurt him?’
‘Aylmer will be safely back at the convent by now.’
She felt her brow crease in puzzlement. ‘You do know that Aylmer will send word to my father?’
‘I am rather hoping that he will.’
‘Are you mad? My father will kill you.’
A small smile lifted one side of his mouth as slowly, Eric shook his head. ‘I doubt that, my lady. You see, I am doing this at the behest of your father.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Father asked you to carry me off?’
‘Please, my lady.’ Again Eric gestured at the cloak. ‘Sit down and I will do my best to explain.’
Stunned into silence, Rowena sank on to his cloak. Her father had asked Eric to do this? Her father?
Eric sat on the ground beside her and rested his arms on his knees. Rowena noted the sprinkling of dark hair on his forearms and found herself studying him. She couldn’t remember when she had seen him last, and there were differences as well as similarities. He looked older, although traces of the boy she had known remained. His features were more clearly defined—the line of his jaw, his nose, his lips. A fluttery feeling made itself felt and she jerked her gaze away from his mouth. His hair was as thick as ever, dark brown with rich auburn glints that caught the light when he moved. His shoulders were wide, he looked strong and much more masculine. A man, a real man. Rowena didn’t like many men and she hadn’t been in the company of men as powerful as Eric since she’d entered the convent. It felt strange. Oddly, it didn’t feel as alarming as she had imagined it would, she had known him for many years after all. With a start, she realised the fear she had felt when he flung her across his saddle had gone the moment she’d seen his face. Her heart was still thudding—with excitement rather than fear. She felt more alive than she had in weeks.
Except—there was only one reason she could think of for Eric abducting her. She swallowed. ‘My father doesn’t want me to take my vows.’
‘No.’
‘He’s asked you to take me back to Jutigny?’ Despite herself, her voice cracked. ‘He’s found someone he wants me to marry?’
Eric shifted, he looked decidedly uncomfortable. Reaching for a blade of grass, he picked it and twirled it between his fingers. Fingers that for no reason that Rowena could think of held her gaze. Eric had capable hands, with blunt fingers. His hands were the hands of a successful knight, and as long as she had known him they had never been put to any dishonourable task. She did not think he could have changed that much and yet snatching her from the convent was hardly the action of a man of honour.
‘Eric?’
‘Aye?’
‘Take me home. Please?’
‘I take it by home you mean the convent, not the castle?’
‘Yes.’
Not meeting her gaze, he shook his head. ‘I cannot. My lady, it pains me to admit it, but Count Faramus has indeed found another man for you to marry.’
Rowena shivered and wrapped her arms about herself. ‘Do...do you know who it is?’
Green eyes lifted, held hers. ‘It’s me. Lord Faramus has asked me to marry you.’
‘You?’ Rowena blinked and her heart started to race. ‘Eric, you do know I am set on being a nun.’
His mouth twisted and Rowena felt her cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze. He sighed and looked away. ‘Aye, the whole of Champagne knows of your wish to take the veil.’
She leaned forward, running her gaze over his face, the face that was so familiar and yet so changed. Had Eric’s character altered as much as his features? When she was young, he had been an entertaining playmate. She bit her lip. He had taught her chess and she had enjoyed the games, even if Eric had wearied of her company far too soon. Once he’d been made squire, it had been impossible to wring so much as a smile out of him.
‘Father can’t make me marry,’ she said. ‘I got the king’s agreement to enter the convent. The king—he is my godfather, if you recall—approves of my wish to take my vows.’
‘Sadly, your father does not.’
Rowena chewed her lip, conscious that even as they were speaking her excitement was rising. She couldn’t understand it. God was surely testing her resolve again, tempting her by offering her a way out of the convent, tempting her almost beyond endurance by sending Eric to her. ‘Sir, I cannot renege on my decision to become a nun.’
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Rowena found herself wondering what would happen if she did indeed change her mind. What would the king say? She would be pleasing her father, and whilst Rowena couldn’t forget her father had tried to force her into marriage with Lord Gawain when she wasn’t ready, she hadn’t enjoyed fighting him. It had really upset her mother.
And, most shocking of all, she even found herself wondering if marrying Sir Eric wasn’t such a terrible idea—provided she could reassure herself that Eric wasn’t going to turn into a tyrant like her father. How much had he changed in the years since she’d known him?
‘Dear Lord,’ she said, alarmed at how easily her thoughts had run away from her. ‘I was certain that if I won the king’s agreement to take the veil, even Father wouldn’t dare go against him.’
‘I
