He had the heart of Galahad, strong and true. Time and again, he proved it. In his devotion to his family, his kindness toward the twin orphans, his willingness to risk his life for those he loved… including her.
Honor would always mean more to him than position or power. His loyalty ran deep. It did not waver.
He would not fail her.
“How near dawn is it?” Alarm had Isobel leaping from the bed. With impatient hands, she jerked at her gown. Thank heaven she had not bothered to take it off!
“I waited as long as I dared,” Catherine said as she knelt to help Isobel into her slippers. “ ’Tis yet an hour before dawn. Robert is waiting downstairs to take you to the castle.”
“Robert is waiting?”
“Robert always had faith in you,” Catherine said. “Now give me your other foot so we can get you on your way.”
As Isobel raced down the stairs, she called back, “The angels should sing your praises, Lady Catherine!”
Robert caught her in his arms. “I knew you would choose happiness in the end, but did you have to take so long?”
Horses were saddled and ready outside the door. Robert flung her on one, and they rode hard through the empty streets. When they reached the castle gates, the guards waved them through.
Isobel slid off her horse at the steps of the Old Palace.
“Stephen is in his old chamber,” Robert said, taking her hand as they ran down the corridor.
They skidded to a stop before Stephen’s door.
“Tell Stephen not to worry about the men,” Robert said, gasping for breath. “William is sending orders to put someone else in command.”
After the headlong rush to get here, Isobel stood staring at the closed door. What would she say to Stephen? Would he still want her after what she put him through? Could he forgive her?
“Don’t make the poor man wait any longer!” Robert opened the door and pushed her inside.
The door closed behind her with a loud thump.
Stephen sat at the small table beneath the arrow-slit window. From the state of his clothes, he had not been to bed. A single candle glowed on the table, its holder resting in a pool of melted wax.
With a rush of regret, she realized it was an hours candle. Stephen must have used it to count the hours until his departure—and the hours remaining for her to come to him. Only a stub remained.
He rose to his feet and put his hand on the back of the chair, as if to steady himself. Though he did not take his eyes from her, neither did he come to her. His handsome face was etched with lines of tension and fatigue.
“Why are you here, Isobel?”
To think she might never have heard this voice she loved so well again. A sob caught in her throat when she attempted to speak. Still, he waited.
She swallowed and tried again. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I was afraid to trust your love for me. I feared you would betray and abandon me.”
“I would never do that,” Stephen said. Still, he made no move toward her.
“I understand that now.”
“Isobel, tell me why you are here.”
She took a single step forward. “I come because I choose you, Stephen Carleton, to be my husband.” She took another step. “I choose you because you brought joy and love back into my life, and I do not want to lose them again.”
With each step she took, her voice grew stronger.
“I want to sleep beside you each night and wake to see your face each morning. I want to meet your mother.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners.
