Radulf shook his head. “You fight battles with your tongue, Henry, while I use my right arm. That is the difference between us.”
“The difference is that I was up while you were still abed!” Henry retorted, and watched Radulf smile.
His eyes narrowed with sudden interest.
Radulf had a sated look to him that Henry had not seen for a long time. The lines about his eyes had smoothed out, and the rigid set of his mouth was softer. Perhaps this mystery woman was what Radulf needed. He deserved some happiness. If she was what she claimed to be, Radulf could keep her by him.
And if she was not . . . ?
Quite suddenly, Henry understood the reason that Radulf had not pursued the matter further.
His friend was afraid of what he might find! And yet was not the truth, however hurtful, better than living a lie? Radulf had seen his father suffer in a fool’s paradise; did Radulf intend to take the same misguided path?
“You say you are riding south today,” Henry said thoughtfully. “How far are Morcar’s lands?Twenty . . . twenty-five leagues? Two . . . three days’ riding? Why not take the lady and return her to her doting father? Rennoc is probably worried; you will be doing him a favor. Then, if she is as she says, you may continue your dalliance. There is not a man in England who would dare withhold his daughter from Radulf, the King’s Sword.”
Radulf grunted.
“Come, Radulf, it is a good scheme. I will continue your hunt for Vorgen’s wife and guard her lands. It will take only two days to get to Rennoc, and your mind will be set at ease.”
He was right, Radulf knew. Best to discover once and for all the truth about Lily. Then why this sense of deep reluctance? As if he knew the truth might not be something he wished to hear?
Just as the truth had been something his father had refused to acknowledge . . . Nay! he could not go down that road.
A feeling of calm settled over him. Lily might well be any number of things: a liar, a straying wife, an English spy, a follower of Vorgen’s wife.
There was a myriad of unpleasant possibilities.
But whatever she was, Radulf had two days—
three or four if he took his time—in which to enjoy her before they reached Rennoc.
Curtly he nodded his agreement, but Henry noted the tension had returned to his face.
Back once more in Gudren’s tent, Lily reacquainted herself with the smell of smoke and the taste of goat’s cheese. Gudren appeared pleased to see her, chattering away in her own language.
Lily had only to nod occasionally to keep the conversation going.
In truth, she was too caught up in her own thoughts to pay Gudren much attention.
He is a god.
Why had she said such a thing? Though they had thought her jesting, the words remained to Lily a betrayal of the depth of her feelings. And she knew Radulf had sensed their truth, just as he sensed her lies.
Soon he would be gone, soon she could plot her escape. There would not be another chance like this. Once Radulf returned, he would send for her again. And with each moment the leaving would grow more difficult, and the danger more intense.
She could not risk it.
“You are far away, my pretty one.”
Gudren was watching her with pale eyes, her round face made even broader by her smile.
“There are things to be considered, mother.”
Gudren nodded wisely, as if she understood.
“Lord Radulf has a fiercesome reputation, lady, but you should not believe all you hear.”
Lily smiled despite herself. “Is he a lamb then, to follow meekly? I think not.”
