he will have you for a wife before the year has gone.”
Sofia tensed with anger. “I will never be wedded to such a man,” she vowed. “No matter what he may do to me, or how he may strive to terrify my father.”
Kayne drew nearer, searching her eyes.
“He’s the one who did this to you, is he not?” He lightly touched her shoulder, where her flesh had been scratched.
Sofia moved away, unable to tell him the truth of what had happened. No one outside of Ahlgren Manor knew the fullness of her shame, for her servants had remained loyal in saying little. But she knew that rumors were being whispered among the villagers, and feared that it would not be long before everyone knew Sir Griel had given her such grave insult. And once the truth was known, the citizens of Wirth would fear him even more than they already did. Sofia would have no one to turn to for help and protection.
“I have kept you from your work for too long, Master Kayne. Forgive me.”
“Sofia.” His hand curled around her arm, gently, holding her still. “I give you my word of honor that you can trust me, even if you can trust no one else. If Sir Griel has threatened you—”
“I’m not afraid of Sir Griel,” Sofia told him tautly, “or of any man.”
“You should be,” Kayne said. “He is a man of great cruelty, and therefore a man to fear. If he dares to set a hand to you again, come to me and I will deal with him, for your father will never do so.”
Sofia pulled free. “You are kind, Master Kayne, but I would not ask that of you. ’Tis too much, and you owe me naught.”
“For all you did for me after the fire,” he said, “I can never fully repay you. But it is not for that alone. I will not stand aside and watch any man bring harm to a woman. I have sworn before God that I would always defend—” He fell suddenly silent. “Only tell me if he should trouble you, mistress. Promise me that.”
Sofia touched her arm over the place where his fingers had curled, holding her in so careful a grasp. How strange he was! Had he sworn, as a knight did, to protect and defend women? But he had been a mere soldier. He’d just told her so.
“I will give you my promise,” she said slowly, “if you will promise to attend the Midsummer Day feast. And to dance with me.”
“I do not make merry,” he told her stonily.
Sofia gave a curt nod. “Then I will likewise make no promises. Good day to you, Master Kayne.”
“Good day,” he murmured, adding, before she could leave, “I will return the basket to you on the morrow.”
“I will be busy on the morrow. Dancing and feasting and having a fine day. And you will be here alone, as ever.”
He made a sound of aggravation. “Then I will return it the day following.”
“As it pleases you, Master Kayne,” she said, and turned to walk away.
Chapter Four
It was nearly midnight when Kayne rode out of Wirth, cloaked in a heavy black cape and riding atop Tristan. He knew that the destrier’s heavy hooves made a great deal of noise, but the pleasure he experienced at riding his magnificent steed far overtook his fear of unsettling the villagers.
A powerful mount, Tristan readily bore Kayne’s muscled weight, moving with a speed and grace that made it seem as if he carried nothing at all. Once clear of the village, he gave the horse full rein, bending low over the animal’s neck as it lengthened its strides, galloping for several long minutes with clear enjoyment.
When they neared the forest, Kayne at last reined the majestic beast in, slowing his pace by degrees. Just as he had been during their years together in France, Tristan was instantly obedient to his master’s will. Without such obedience, Kayne knew, he’d have been long dead. More times than he could recall it had been Tristan’s perfectly honed skills as a warhorse that had kept them both alive.
It was an easy matter to find the place where he needed to turn in, though it was not always so in the midst of those nights when he journeyed to the forest. Tonight, however, the moon was nearly full, giving plenty of light for such late wanderings. Tomorrow night, Kayne thought, glancing upward, ’twould be even brighter, and all those celebrating Midsummer Night would rejoice to have their dancing and feasting made that much more pleasant.
Sofia, especially, would enjoy herself. She had a gift for happiness; one that he envied greatly. He could almost envision her now, with her long golden hair unbound and flowing free, crowned with a circlet of flowers and swaying like the finest silk cloth as she danced about the bonfires. She’d have no lack of partners. Nay, she’d suffer quite a different trouble by having far too many vying for her hand, both young and old alike.
It wasn’t far to the clearing which was his destination. Senet and John were there before him, waiting.
“Where is Aric?” Kayne asked as he brought Tristan to a halt. He dismounted with ease as the other men approached, and held out a hand in greeting.
“His wife, Magan, is heavy with child,” Senet Gaillard, the lord of Lomas, replied, clasping Kayne’s arm in the manner of long friendship, “and he will not leave her for fear that the babe might come with him gone. ’Tis good to see you again, Kayne. You are well?”
“Most well, as you see,” he assured him before turning to greet the other man. “John, well met.”
John Baldwin, who had recently become the lord of Cap-well, shook his hand warmly.
“Aye, indeed, Kayne. I was sorry not to come when Senet and Aric last met you here, and so had to come this time. Clarise sends her warmest love.”
“Give her my thanks, and send my own affections in return. She is well and happy? But I think she must be, now that you are wed.”
John smiled and nodded. “Most happy, we are, the both of us. But what of you? Your burns are much healed from what I saw many months ago.”
“He has the lady of Wirth to thank for it,” Senet said, grinning at Kayne. “A very beautiful lady, from what is told of her, and most attentive to our Kayne. Mistress Sofia Ahlgren is her name, but to hear the words fall from his lips, you would think her named ‘Loveliest Angel,’ instead.”
Kayne scowled at him. “You are pleased to make jest, yet there is nothing more to Mistress Sofia’s kindness than mere Christian duty, and nothing more to my speaking of her than gratitude. But you did not ride so far in the dark of night to speak of such things. Something is amiss if you come to meet with me again, so soon after our last parting, and only a day before Midsummer Night. You’ll wish to be home with your wives on the morrow, and not here with me. Though I am not sorry to see you, of course.”
“Nay, of course not,” Senet replied with a raised eyebrow. “But it may seem so, as you refuse to let us come to your home, as friends might expect to do.”
“You know why it must be so,” Kayne said quietly, grieved in his heart to treat his dearest friends—men who were as his own brothers—in such a manner. They had been inseparable during the ten years they’d spent together fighting in France, and nothing
