his own in the north and says they are more than enough for him. Truly, Gillian, he is the best of men.
Gillian didn’t believe her. She knew the strength of infatuation, the power of love, and Adelaide sounded completely smitten. This Lord Armand de Boisbaston might merely be biding his time before swooping down upon Averette like a vulture—especially if he had his half brother already there to support him.
His features full of concern, Dunstan came a few steps closer. “What is it? Is Adelaide ill?”
She shook her head. “No, she’s well.” Or at least she wasn’t sick the way he meant. Sick with love, perhaps.
Yet surely if the unthinkable were true and Adelaide had married, she would come here herself to tell them. She wouldn’t send some stranger to do the deed, or to help protect Averette, either.
She thrust the letter at Dunstan. “Do you think this was written by my sister?”
“It looks like Adelaide’s hand,” he murmured as he started to read.
She knew the instant he saw the thing that had shocked her most, too. “She’s married?” He stared at Sir Bayard. “To your brother?”
“Half brother.”
Half or full, what did it matter?
“Who’s married?” Iain demanded.
Sir Bayard’s jaw clenched before he answered, but his voice was calm when he spoke. “Lady Adelaide has recently wed my half brother, Lord Armand de Boisbas-ton, a knight of the realm.”
“When? How?”
“Four days ago,” Sir Bayard replied with that same damnable composure. “In the usual fashion. I myself was not a witness to the nuptials, being newly returned from France, but I assure you, they are wed and very much in love—so much so that Armand has refused all rights to Averette.”
Something Sir Bayard obviously couldn’t fathom, Gillian realized, and neither could she. “Whoever heard of a lord who refuses more land?”
“Whatever you or I might think of it, that’s the agreement he made with his wife,” Sir Bayard replied. “As a man of honor, he will abide by it. And I give you my word as a knight of the realm that this letter is from your sister and you are in danger.”
“Danger?” Iain repeated. “What danger?”
Gillian quickly described what Adelaide had said about a conspiracy, including the news that Sir Bayard was expected to remain at Averette, something that clearly upset Dunstan and Iain as much as it did her.
“For how long?” Iain demanded.
“Until my brother and his wife deem it safe for me to go,” Sir Bayard replied.
“Am I to have no say in this matter?” Gillian angrily inquired.
“Rest assured, my lady, you’re still in command of Averette,” Sir Bayard said. “I am to provide such advice and assistance as you may require, and nothing more.”
“We’re more than capable of defending ourselves,” Dunstan said, his hand on the hilt of the sword he’d only ever wielded on a practice field.
Sir Bayard raised a brow and crossed his powerful arms. “You’ve had experience commanding men in battle? Or under siege?”
Iain threw back his shoulders. “I was in battle before you left your mother’s teat.”
“That is not what I asked,” the knight returned. “Have you commanded in battle, or under siege?”
Iain’s answer was a stony silence. He’d been in battles, Gillian knew, but his appointment to garrison commander was recent, awarded by her father shortly before he died of apoplexy during yet another drunken rant about his lack of sons and abusing God for cursing him with useless daughters.
Dunstan had no battle experience of any kind. His skill was arithmetic and keeping accurate accounts.
“These enemies we face are determined men,” Sir Bayard said to her, “and unless you’d put your pride above your people’s welfare, you should welcome any aid I can provide.”
What if this letter was true? she asked herself. What if these enemies Adelaide and Sir Bayard spoke of were dangerous and ruthless and coming to Averette? She had complete confidence in Iain’s abilities, but she would be a fool to refuse the help of an experienced knight. “Very well, my lord, you may stay.”
She held up her hand to silence Iain and Dunstan’s protests and continued to address Sir Bayard. “Although I’m quite confident Iain and my men can defend the people of Averette against any enemy force, you and your soldiers may stay. However, I’m writing to my sister to confirm that you are who you claim to be and that what this letter says is true. Now, having delivered this message, my lord, you may go to the hall and avail yourself of refreshment.”
The slight lowering of Sir Bayard’s dark brows told her he realized he was being dismissed. Nevertheless, his voice betrayed no hint of anger when he said “Until later, then, my lady.” Then he gave her an excuse of a bow and strolled out of the door.
“Hospitality or no, we should send that arrogant ass back out the gates right now,” Iain declared the moment the door closed.
“That man should leave Averette today,” Dunstan agreed. “Such impertinence!”
Gillian looked from one man to the other, appreciating their loyalty and concern, yet aware that Averette and its people were her responsibility. “What if he is related to me by marriage? Until we know for certain, we must treat him as a guest. If he is an enemy, it might be wiser to keep him here, where we can watch him.”
“Aye, there is that,” Iain conceded.
“What if he’s a spy, trying to find out our garrison’s strengths and weakness?” Dunstan demanded.
Gillian hadn’t thought of that, and the notion sickened her. “Surely Averette has no weaknesses.”
“There’s always a weakness, my lady,” Iain said, “no matter how hard we train the men or reinforce the walls.”
Gillian knew he was right, but Adelaide’s letter and her duty as chatelaine stopped her from ordering Sir Bayard to leave. There was a chance the letter was genuine and this knight had been sent by her sister to help them. She wasn’t willing to run the risk of either offending a nobleman who was related to her by marriage or refusing his aid if Averette was in danger.
But she wasn’t willing to allow a possible spy to wander at will about the estate, either.
“He and his men may stay,” she decided, “apparently as honored guests. Tell the servants and soldiers to treat Sir Bayard, his squire, and his men with every courtesy until they hear otherwise. However, our guests aren’t to leave the confines of the castle. If Sir Bayard or his men protest, they should be sent to me.
“Iain, have half the garrison billeted in the village to hide our true strength, and move the training and practices to the far meadows.
