Stephen placed her headdress in her shaking hands, wrapped her cape about her shoulders, and pulled her hood up.
He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I hate that you feel shamed,” he said in a soft voice.
“Stephen, the men are gathering.”
The commanding voice behind them made Isobel jump, but Stephen showed no sign he heard it.
“ ’Tis lucky William came when he did,” he whispered, touching her cheek. He broke into a devilish smile that squeezed her heart. “But I wish to God he hadn’t. How I want you, Isobel!”
Before she could catch her breath, he kissed her cheek and was gone.
FitzAlan gave her a curt nod and held out his arm. Without glancing to the left or right, he led her out into the bright sunshine, a man sure of himself and his virtue.
Humiliation, loss, and longing warred inside her as she walked beside him. The keep seemed miles away.
“Keep your head up,” FitzAlan ordered.
She did as she was told. FitzAlan did not break the silence again until they passed Saint George’s chapel.
“I apologize for my brother’s behavior,” he said, looking straight ahead. “ ’Tis not like him to force his attentions.”
She made herself say it: “He did not force his attentions on me.”
FitzAlan gave a slight nod, still not looking at her. “The king has other plans for you, Lady Hume. But if things went… too far… with my brother, Stephen will marry you.”
“They did not proceed ‘too far,’ ” she bit out, surprised at her sudden anger. It did nothing to soothe her temper to know FitzAlan’s suspicions were reasonable, given what he saw. “And I would not force Sir Stephen to marry me—or have you force him—if they had.”
The corner of FitzAlan’s mouth lifted briefly in what looked suspiciously like a smile. It was the first she saw the slightest resemblance between the two brothers—and she did not like it.
“My brother would do as honor required, regardless of my wishes,” FitzAlan said. “Or yours, Lady Hume.”
It sounded like a warning.
“By all the saints, Stephen, are you possessed?” William thundered at him as soon as they had ridden out of the city gates.
The main force was a quarter mile ahead. William, however, rode at a pace that signaled he was in no hurry to catch up.
“Possessed or mad,” Stephen replied. There was no other explanation.
“Do you not have enough women?” William shouted. “This one you cannot have without marriage. And the king has already chosen a husband for her!”
“I did nothing that might require marriage.” A brief moment more, and he very likely would have. Sweet Jesus! He’d been swept in a raging lust that left no room for thought of consequences.
“She said the same,” William said, his voice calmer.
“You should not have embarrassed her by asking,” Stephen snapped. “I wish you would not meddle in my affairs.”
“I am inadequate to the task,” William said, “but Catherine and our mother would be displeased if I did not make some attempt to guide your love life in their stead.”
Stephen was not amused. He kept his silence for a good long time. But, as always, it was impossible to outlast William.
“We march to Falaise?” he asked. He’d known for some time the king would break tradition and campaign through the winter, but no one knew where Henry would attack first.
“Aye,” William said. “The king decided last night.”
“The people here believe the city walls of Falaise are impregnable,” Stephen said. “The city will hold out.”
“Aye, it will be a long siege,” William agreed.
