In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,100

senses.”

“You will hear no argument from me. You will hear a warning, however. He is fire, Ariel, and if you dally with him, you will be burned.”

“Dally with him!” she exclaimed. “I have no intentions of dallying with him!”

“I am glad to hear it, for I would remind you the bloodlines of the De Glares are purer than some who would aspire to be kings and queens. FitzRandwulf may wear the black and gold of La Seyne Sur Mer, but he is a bastard and as such would only breed more bastards on whoever he takes to his bed.”

Ariel was dumfounded. Almost speechless. “How … dare you even take it upon yourself to say such a thing!”

“I dare because we only have each other to watch out for, Ariel. I dare because I am the head of the De Clare family and, frankly, I would dare a great deal more to see our pennon flying over the ramparts of Cardigan Castle again.”

“Do you doubt I want the same thing? Have I not agreed to marry the very man who has the power to restore our family name to its proper place?”

“Indeed you have,” Henry agreed with quiet intensity. “And indeed you will, even if I have to gird you in an iron belt and tie you to my side every step of the way.”

Ariel’s response had been to heave the entire tray and its contents at his head, forcing him to duck back out the door.

And while Henry had not exactly girded her or tied her to his side, he had all but transformed himself into a hawk for the close and predatory watch he kept on her after that. He took precautions never to leave her alone with FitzRandwulf He even limited the time she spent in Robin’s company lest the lad boast of too many more of the Bastard’s accomplishments.

If Ariel objected to this new attentiveness on her brother’s part, she did not put voice to any complaints. She had been given more than just a knock on the head to think about and she was not altogether certain she trusted herself around FitzRandwulf.

Not that she would have known, by anything he said or did, that whatever intimacy they may or may not have shared had left a lasting impression. He was his usual cool, brusque self, preoccupied with finding horses and supplies to replace what they had lost, and then with speeding them on their way to St. Malo with no further delays or mishaps. Only at night, during the still, dark hours when the only sound was the beating of her own heart, was she aware of the slate gray eyes watching her across the fire. Then, if she still had reason to doubt the validity of what Henry had told her, she needed only to feel the warm wash of sensations sliding through her belly to know his concerns were real.

St. Malo was a crowded and busy port city. The smell of fish and salt water, canvas and wood rot, permeated everything.

It was also a secretive city, filled to the eaves with men who made their livings carrying other men back and forth to England who preferred to keep their travel arrangements to themselves. Fully a third of John’s meagre army had returned to England without the permission or knowledge of their captains. Another third waited in dirty taverns, rolling dice and hoping to win the price of a berth on board the next ship heading home. Voices in the shadows railed King John as a usurper, a liar, a foul murderer. There were brawls in the taverns and throats slit every night. Fevers ran high in favour of the rebel forces seeking to oust the Norman king from Brittany, and even humble pilgrims were not immune from the effects of widespread dissent, twice fielding sprays of rotten vegetables thrown by invisible hands.

FitzRandwulf’s party sought lodging at another inn that opened its doors wider to the words àoutrance, and though the owners were neither as portly nor as amiable as the Gabinets, the rooms were clean, the food hearty, the ale strong and plentiful. Henry and Eduard wasted no time making arrangements for their crossing. Passage for the men and their horses was won at an exhorbitant price, paid in silver to guarantee the captain would not sell their berths to others as eager to remove themselves from Brittany.

When the men returned to the inn for the evening meal, they behaved as if at least