He put up a hand to stop her, turning to look at her lovely face. She was a positively exquisite creature, made more beautiful by the haunting moonlight. As he gazed into her lovely eyes, her beauty nearly erased every thought in his head. It was a struggle to speak rationally.
“They did not steal from me because I did not have any money on my person,” he told her. “Therefore, I am not lying to protect them. They did not rob me.”
“But they tried.”
He reluctantly nodded. “They did.”
She held his gaze a moment longer before looking away and shaking her head. “Their motives are so complex,” she said. “Romney believes that money will buy things to make Lacy and I happy.”
“Lacy?”
“Their two-year-old sister,” she explained softly. Then she started throwing her hands around as she spoke. “They rob anyone who enters the keep or, as Romney explains it, they exacta toll from visitors, and then the boys escape the castle and run off into town to purchase things. One time they purchased perfume for me and another time it was a belt, which I am sure they stole. Unless they robbed the king, they could not have afforded it. It terrifies me that they do this. I am afraid that one of these days, they will fall victim to bandits or wild animals. It is not safe for them outside of these walls.”
“Nor is it safe for visitors inside of the walls with those three on the loose.”
She looked at him and burst out in giggles. “This is serious,” she chided him, although she was grinning. “I am nearly at my wits end with them. I apologize that they tried to rob you, Gart. You must think me horrible for raising such terrible children.”
He looked at her, a smile playing on his full lips. “I think your children are bold and clever,” he said, although it was not quite the truth. “Why do they feel the need to buy you nice things?”
Her smile faded and he could sense her manner becoming guarded. She looked away, off towards the forests to the east. The silence that followed was heavy as she thought on her answer.
“Things… things are not entirely pleasant here,” she said, vaguely. “I suppose they think that gifts can make them better.”
He watched her profile in the moonlight, a long and pregnant pause. “You are not happy.”
It was a statement and not a question. Emberley shrugged. “I have four beautiful children,” she said with feigned enthusiasm. “There is much to be thankful for.”
He shifted, inadvertently moving closer to her in the process. “I did not question your gratitude,” he said. “I questioned your happiness.”
She shrugged again, still not meeting his eye. “It does not matter if I am happy or not. My children are healthy and we have much to be thankful for.”
He sighed faintly, knowing he shouldn’t involve himself in something that did not concern him, but unable to resist. He had known Emberley since childhood. He had seen her grow up for the most part. With Erik gone, he almost felt compelled to act in the man’s place, to perhaps advise or console her. It was a foolish thought but he couldn’t help himself.
“Does your husband always speak to you so rudely?” he asked quietly.
She looked at him as if startled by the question. “It is his way,” she said rather lamely. “It is his right.”
“I know what his rights are,” Gart said. “I would suspect by the way he spoke to you that he does it quite regularly.”
In the moonlight, Emberley’s cheeks flushed dully. “It is his way,” she repeated softly.
“Perhaps it is, but I do not like it,” Gart said. “Based upon that observation, I will ask another question.”
“What question is that?”
“Has he ever struck you?”
She hung her head, refusing to look at him. “Gart, I am sure you are asking out of concern, but it truly is none of your affair.”
He watched her lowered head, her lovely profile, seeing tears pooling in her eyes. He suddenly felt very, very angry as he realized the truth. She didn’t even have to tell him. He knew.
“So he takes his hands to you,” he rumbled. “’Tis a vile, foul man that would strike a woman.”
Emberley took a deep breath and wiped quickly at her eyes before the tears could fall. When she turned to look at him, he could read the anxiety on her face.
“I appreciate your concern,” she whispered, laying a soft, white hand on his wrist. “I truly do. But you must not ask me any more questions. You would not like the answers and if Julian found out, he would not like that I have told you.”
His jaw flexed. “Your husband was quite eager to announce to the men in the hall that he and the queen were lovers,” he said. “Is this true?”
