Warrior's Deception. Diana Hall
added reluctantly, “I could be frank with Lenora, tell her what I suspect.”
Roen massaged his temple as he answered, “Then she really would be in danger. She’d stop at nothing to ferret any would-be assassin. We will delay any decision until I am sure there is some danger. If—” Roen stressed the word “—I sense any real danger, I will participate in your deception. But understand this, I have no intention of carrying through with this. How will she react when she discovers the truth?”
“Better a bit of dented pride than death,” Edmund answered bluntly. “There is one more thing.”
Roen spread his mouth into a thin-lipped frown. Edmund ignored his expression and spoke quickly. “I gave Lenora a promise, that she could choose her husband. I even paid the king a fee to keep her unmarried for the remainder of the year. I cannot mandate she marry you. You must persuade her to make this match.”
“God’s blood, man!” Roen’s patience stretched beyond his tolerance. “I will do what I can to discover the culprit and protect you and your family because the king wishes it. But I am a fighting man. I will not go around at her heels like a lap dog. If I decide to marry the girl, by God, she will marry me.”
Roen turned on his heel and marched to the door. As he opened it, he pierced each man with a baleful stare. He exited, allowing the slam of the door to demonstrate his ire.
Tom sat down gingerly in the chair. He let out a long whistle of air. “What do ye think, Lord Edmund? Will your plan work?”
Edmund, the slam of the door still ringing in his ears, remained quiet for a time before he answered his trusted friend and servant. “All we can do is pray Henry sent the right man.”
“And if’n he is?” Tom asked as he returned the clay jug to its hiding place.
“Then we execute our own deception, Tom, and pray ‘tis the right decision. Lenora’s life depends on it.”
“I thought I told you that Beatrice was not for you.” Lenora placed her fists on her hips and glowered at the two knights. For two days the siege commander and his men had taken her hospitality; ‘twas time he left, without her cousin. The hot afternoon sun beat against her back and she purposely moved to let the sun blind the men when they looked up. Roen and Hamlin sat on a crudely fashioned bench. In the cool shade of the sprawling oak, the two men labored on their tack. Soap, oil and parts of their saddles lay about them.
Roen looked up from his task, but his tanned face showed no emotion. He continued to work lubricant into his saddle girth, his strong fingers massaging the leather. A leather thong held back his flaxen hair at the base of his neck. He looked all the more like a barbarian invader. He is an invader, Lenora thought, an invader to my home and peace of mind.
“Galliard, did you hear me?”
With a careless wave of his hand, Roen signaled Hamlin to leave. His friend threw his work rag on the pommel of his saddle and caught sight of Beatrice as she rushed toward the keep. She carried an overloaded basket of vegetables. He quickened his step to intercept the girl.
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