Very difficult for him to swallow.
“If I am such an undesirable prospect, how did this prince agree to it?” she asked, her tone full of hurt. “Surely he would not want such an old hag as me.”
Harald laughed softly, choosing to overlook the pain in her tone. “That is a good question,” he said. “The truth is that he must take a wife, so he is being forced into this as much as you are. All you need to do is marry him and bear his sons, my dear. You do not have to like him. If he is intolerable enough, I will allow you to live under my roof. But you must marry. Am I making myself clear?”
He was. But he made it sound so transactional, as if there were nothing involved other than a contract. That was it. All the sentiment of buying a horse. Harald’s disappointment in her being born a woman was never more evident than it was at that moment. Frankly, Catalina was disappointed, too.
Had she been born male, she’d at least have a choice over whom she married.
This was like a nightmare.
Disgusted and overwhelmed, Catalina turned away from her father, refusing to look at him. The truth was that she’d been away from the man for the duration of her marriage, several years at least, and had only returned after Alfred’s death. Theywere only just coming to know one another again. They’d never been particularly close to begin with, as her father seemed to be aloof to women in general, so his heavy-handed control of her future didn’t sit well with her.
“You have brokered this contract to simply perpetuate the de Efford name and titles,” she said. “It has nothing to do with an alliance, or money, or even affection, but carrying on your bloodlines. I want to make sure I’m clear on this.”
“What else is there?”
She did look at him, then. “The joining of two families is one,” she said, annoyed. “Two allied families joining to strengthen a relationship or alliance. If it were that, I could understand it, but this… this man is not even a de Lohr. Or anyone of note. Is he? What is his name?”
Harald shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “But I know that he serves de Lohr.”
Catalina looked at him with some horror. “You do not even know the man’sname?”
Harald yawned, clearly bored with the conversation. “All I know is that he comes highly recommended by Hereford,” he said. “You will marry him on the morrow and we will be done with this.”
Catalina was dumbfounded. “And then what?” she said. “My children and I go off with the man to his home, entering into a situation that could be dangerous or deadly or horrible? Do you even care what becomes of us?”
She was speaking through clenched teeth by the time she was finished, and Harald was no longer yawning. He was looking at her, brow furrowed, displeased by her words and her reaction to what he felt was as good a situation as she could hope for.
“Ungrateful,” he finally said. “I have done my best for you and this is how you thank me?”
Catalina went swiftly from being dumbfounded to outraged. “I have listened to you, so you will listen to me,” she snarled. “If I die, if my girls die, then your legacy is finished once and for all. There will be no grandsons to carry on your grand legacy. Did you ever think of that?”
Harald sighed sharply. “De Lohr would not have recommended him were he the brutal sort, so you do not have to be hysterical about it,” he said, standing up from the chair he’d been sitting on. “I am retiring for the night. Be prepared to marry on the morrow. That is all I have to say to you about it.”
With that, he headed off for the canvas tent that had been raised for him by his men, the one bearing the dark blue, yellow, and white of de Barenton. Harald would sleep in his tent while Catalina and her girls had use of the carriage. It was cold in the carriage, without the brazier that would be in Harald’s tent for warmth, but that didn’t much matter to Harald. As long as he was comfortable, all was well in the world.
And his daughter was, thankfully, betrothed.
Catalina knew that was what he was thinking. He hadn’t been thrilled when she returned home, even if it was because she’d had no choice, so certainly he wouldn’t have any trouble finding her a husband with a hasty betrothal. He had promised her, once, that she could choose her husband, but he’d broken his word. That wasn’t surprising, because he broke his word to her all the time. He didn’t seem to think it meant much to keep it. Probably because he didn’t think much of her.
Maybe he’d brought her to this tournament purely to marry her off.
Now, it was all becoming clear.
Frustrated, and upset, Catalina returned to the carriage to find her cloak, as the night was damp and temperatures were dropping. She checked on her sleeping children, both of them wrapped up in heavy blankets and sleeping well. She wasn’texactly tired, thinking that she needed to take a walk and reconcile herself to her future, which happened to be marrying a man she’d never met. Tiptoeing out of the carriage, she quietly closed the door and donned the cloak. There were a few soldiers on guard duty, so she knew the children would be protected. Her father’s soldiers seemed to care something for the three women even if her father really didn’t.
“My lady?”
Startled, she turned to see Lance coming out of the darkness. He wasn’t wearing his armor, or the full regalia she’d seen him in since leaving Eckington, but rather clad in a simple tunic and breeches. His blond hair was combed back, hanging just above his shoulders. She’d seen him with his helm on so much that she’d forgotten the man had blond hair. She’d forgotten that he was rather handsome in an avenging-angel sort of way.
“You startled me,” she said, hand on her chest to still her fluttering heart. “I thought you would be at the feast.”
“I was,” he said, coming to a halt a few feet away. “Is that where you are going? I would be happy to escort you to the great hall. There is enough food and drink there to feed most of London.”
She smiled weakly. “I hadn’t really thought about going there,” she admitted. “I was simply going to walk around. The girls are asleep, but I am not tired.”
“May I walk with you?”
