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 agree, it’s surprising,’ Eric said, quietly. ‘However, I should warn you that Lord Faramus is showing no sign of backing down.’
Rowena touched his sleeve and snatched her hand back as soon as she realised what she had done. She was almost certain she liked this man as much as she had done when he had been a boy. But she would never agree to marry him. Marriage was such a large step. If she married this knight, she would have to obey him for the rest of her days. This was a test of her vocation and she must resist. ‘Sir, let me in on your plans. I need to know your mind.’
What she couldn’t say, not out loud, was that she really needed to know whether Eric had mirrored himself on her father. What did he intend to do with her? Would he think nothing of riding roughshod over the needs of others to achieve his ambitions?
He smiled. ‘My lady, I must confess I am reluctant to stand between you and your vocation.’
‘Then why kidnap me?’ She stared at his profile. There was more here that Eric wasn’t saying and he seemed determined not to tell her. As a young man he had always been determined. Sir Macaire had once told her that Eric had been set on being a knight from the moment he’d arrived at the castle. He’d been—what?—six years of age. No one knew for sure.
Rowena hadn’t been born then, so she couldn’t remember Eric’s arrival, she had to rely on what she’d been told. Everyone at Jutigny knew about the small boy her mother had found shivering in the snow one Christmastide. There had been no sign of his parents, so Lady Barbara had taken him in. Eric had been a foundling and he had risen to become a knight thanks to her mother’s charity and his own formidable talents.
Eric had taken to castle life as though born to it. He was there in Rowena’s deepest memories—practising swordplay with a wooden sword; sneaking out to ride horses that a boy double his size would think twice about mounting; teaching her to climb the plum tree in the herb garden because she had an insatiable fondness for ripe plums...
Eric was proud, he wouldn’t like to be reminded that he’d been a foundling. To Rowena’s knowledge, he never mentioned it. On the heels of that thought came the realisation that it had been stupid of her to ask why he had fallen in with her father’s wishes. Eric was bound to feel beholden to her family. Her father had allowed him to rise through the ranks and win his spurs. Without her father, Eric would not be the man he was today.
She sighed. If only her father was less intransigent. He wanted her to marry and he had remembered that she had liked Eric as a child. And he must know how Eric coveted lands. Land represented security—every knight she knew wanted a larger estate and Eric was bound to crave security more than most.
Had Eric’s nature changed? Had the kind boy grown into a kind man?
Eric tossed the blade of grass aside and gave her another of those intense looks. ‘My lady, this is most awkward, I do not wish to tell you the whole. Suffice it to say that Lord Faramus put me in a position when I had no choice but to agree to snatch you from the convent.’
‘Sir, there is surely always a choice.’
‘Not this time.’
‘Father threatened you.’
‘Not precisely.’
‘But he wants you to marry me?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘I can’t help wondering what Mama would say if she knew.’
Eric’s skin darkened. ‘My lady, your mother knows about this. Lady Barbara was present at my meeting with Lord Faramus.’
A cool finger lifted her chin and green eyes looked earnestly into hers.
‘My lady, you need not fear me.’ Briefly, his gaze lingered on her lips and his lips quirked into one of those charming smiles she’d seen him direct at the castle maids. ‘Much as I would like to fall in with your father’s suggestion, I believe he is being over-hasty. I am sure that when he is given time to reflect, he will change his mind.’
The stab of disappointment was unexpected. ‘You’re going to take me back to the convent?’
‘Sadly, I can’t do that.’ Eric shoved his hand through his hair. ‘My lady, I didn’t want to tell you this, but if you refuse to come with me, your father is holding someone else in reserve. Someone who may not be as forbearing as I when faced with your refusal to marry him.’
Rowena could hardly breathe. ‘Do I know him?’
‘Yes, my lady, it is Sir Breon de Provins.’ His eyes were watchful. ‘I do not think Sir Breon will hesitate to use force. And imagine the chaos he will cause if he has your father’s blessing to enter the convent.’
‘Not Sir Breon, the sisters would be terrified.’ Rowena put her hand to her throat. A lump had formed and she was very much afraid that she might burst into tears. As a knight Sir Breon was efficient enough. Personally, he came over as brusque and cold and Rowena had always kept out of his way, she could never warm to a man like that.
She felt utterly trapped, exactly as she had done when her father had faced her with marriage to Lord Gawain. ‘I thought Father would leave me in peace once I had the king’s blessing to enter the convent,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I had escaped. I thought I had won leave to order my own life, but it would seem I’ve just swapped one tyranny for another.’
She stared at a spot of sunlight playing on the trunk of a tree and gritted her teeth. She should have known it wouldn’t be easy to escape her father’s will.
Unless she married Eric.
If she married Eric she would be obeying her father and escaping him. A voice in her head was muttering: Better Eric than the convent. Better Eric than Sir Breon. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.
Mathieu’s face swam into her mind and a pang went through her. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be allowed to mourn him in peace.
Could she marry Eric? She gave him a sideways glance. His strong arms had had no difficulty overpowering her. The boy she had dreamed about so long ago was a successful knight, a landed knight. Doubtless the habit of command had become his second nature. Would he seek to dominate her as her father sought to dominate her mother?
‘Sir Breon is as much a victim as anyone else,’ she murmured.
Eric’s eyebrow shot upwards. ‘You like Sir Breon, my lady?’
Rowena shuddered and gave a swift headshake. She didn’t like Sir Breon, but she thought she understood him. Over the years she’d watched Sir Breon’s ambition warp his nature. He’d begun in a small way. There’d been an archery contest one winter—the men of Jutigny had been pitted against the Provins guard and Sir Breon had been put in charge. The Jutigny team had won, much to her father’s delight. After that the rumours had begun, rumours which went something like this—Sir Breon had contacts in Provins and he’d bribed one or two of their archers to miss their mark. Provins had lost, not badly, just enough to ensure that the Jutigny
