“Have you taken ill?” she asked. “What is—”
“I must see what has happened,” he cut her off. Without a backward glance, he left her and rushed out of the hall.
The hall was soon flooded with soldiers. After the quiet of the last weeks, it felt chaotic and much too crowded. Servants scurried about, setting up the tables and carrying great jugs of ale and wine and platters piled high with roasted meats.
Isobel stood, craning her neck. Despite herself, she searched the room for a glint of auburn hair. Hearing her name above the din, she swung around to see Geoffrey making his way toward her through the throng.
When had her little brother grown into this barrel-chested man, so like their father? He reached her in three long strides and lifted her into a bear hug.
“You look in such good health!” she said, standing back to drink him in. His skin was as tan as in high summer. Perhaps he was not ill suited to a soldier’s life, after all.
“You must tell me of your adventures,” she said, pulling him down to sit beside her on the bench.
“I had time to write a great many poems during the siege.”
To her dismay, he pulled a roll of parchment from the pouch at his belt and began at once to recite aloud.
Geoffrey was not a bad poet. But why must he write these dreary poems of martyred saints? After two or three, she caught herself searching the room again.
“You are usually better at pretending an interest in my poetry,” Geoffrey chided with his usual good nature.
“Of course I want to hear them,” she lied.
“Issie, who are you looking for?”
“De Roche,” she lied again. “I want to introduce you.”
“He is in Caen? Why did you not tell me at once!” Geoffrey leaned forward, face earnest, and took her hands. “Is he a good man? Can you be happy with him?”
She bit her lip, trying to think what she could tell her brother that would be truthful. De Roche was so much more than she had dared hope for. But sometimes… well, it mattered naught. And after Hume, she should be happy married to a toad.
“De Roche is a fine man of serious purpose,” she said at last. When the worry did not leave Geoffrey’s face, she gave him a bright smile. “He is also the handsomest man I’ve ever seen.”
De Roche was pleasing to the eye, but it was a third lie, nonetheless.
“Now go and eat,” she said, giving Geoffrey a gentle shove. “You must be as hungry as the rest.”
She let her shoulders slump as she watched Geoffrey’s broad back disappear through the crowd. For the sin of lying to her brother, she could at least claim good intent. For her sinful thoughts of Stephen, she had no excuse.
She could not even claim repentance.
Stephen kept the reins to the twins’ horse wrapped around his fist as they rode through the streets of Caen. With their striking fair hair and near identical faces, the two children would draw glances anywhere. The sight of them astride a single horse in the midst of a line of armored knights caused the townspeople to stop and gape open-mouthed.
Stephen was taking no chances with this wily pair. After an all-too-brief pretense at docility, they tried to escape. Repeatedly. He would gladly let them go if he thought they would be safe. But no family member came looking for them before he left Falaise. If there was anyone in the whole of Normandy willing to take responsibility for them, the twins were not telling. They refused even to give him their names.
Once inside the castle gates, Stephen parted from the other men and rode straight for the keep, twins in tow. He needed to get this girl off his hands. He smiled to himself, pleased to have a good excuse to seek out Isobel at once.
Now he just had to figure out how to look for Isobel without losing one of these troublemakers. He swung off his horse and grabbed the girl as her feet touched the ground. Once he had her, the boy came easily.
“You’re hurting me!” the girl whined as he dragged the pair up the steps of the keep.
“If you would quit pulling, it would not hurt,” he said evenly. “Now, I want you to pretend that you are a very good girl so Lady Hume will agree to take you. Believe me, she is much nicer than I am.”
The girl gave a loud snort to let him know what she thought of his request. A little wistfully, he thought of his gaggle of nieces and nephews. They could be a handful, but he never had this much trouble with them.
He paused inside the entrance of the busy hall, a twin on either side, and searched the crowd for Isobel. He found her almost at once, across the room near the hearth. When she looked up and met his eyes, his throat went dry.
Her face glowed, as though she were truly pleased to see him. Suddenly, he had a vision of her as she was the last time he saw her. Hair loose and tangled, lips swollen from his kisses. He strode across the room, seeing nothing and no one but her.
