Catherine demanded he tell her all. He was not about to confess he’d just tried to seduce Isobel into agreeing to the marriage. Triedand failed.As it turned out, all Catherine wished to know was what hesaidto Isobel.
“You told her you ‘must’ marry?” Catherine said in her most exasperated tone. “Not that youwantedto marry her? That you love her? That you cannot live without her? For God’s sake, Stephen, what were you thinking!”
Obviously, he had not broached the subject in the best possible way. He should have mentioned how much he cared for her. But how could Isobel not know it?
Those ugly remarks she made about other women were insulting. He’d not gone to bed with another woman since he met her, for God’s sake. And it was not as if he had no offers.
The simple truth was he did not want any woman but Isobel. He’d told her he was done with other women… or had he? Surely his determination to marry her said as much?
Stephen and Lightning rode through most of the night. He did not turn around until he was sure he could speak with Isobel without getting angry again—no matter what foolishness she might say. A storm rolled in with the dawn, soaking him to the skin before he reached the castle gate.
He rode straight for the keep, hoping to find the king at breakfast in the hall. This time, he meant to talk with the king first. Then, when he spoke with Isobel, he could assure her the king was willing to release her from her promise.
The king would not like it, but he would approve the marriage. Being a pious man, what else could he do when Stephen told him what they’d done?
Last night, Linnet had found Isobel naked and weeping on the floor. The girl wrapped her in blankets and frantically pressed her with questions. Distraught as she was, Isobel made the mistake of telling her Stephen wanted to marry her.
Linnet was still furious with her this morning for her “utter, utter foolishness” in refusing him.
Was she being foolish?
What should she have said to Stephen? That she loved him so much her heart ached every moment of every day? That this, more than anything, frightened her? That she wished with all her heart he loved her back?
Yet even that would not be enough. She wanted the impossible. Unless he loved heralways,being his wife would cause her too much pain.
Isobel felt ill from so much weeping. If she could, she would remain in bed for days with the curtains closed. The king, however, sent a message summoning her to join him for breakfast. Vaguely, she recalled he wished to know about the attackers. She tried to turn her mind to it. But misery engulfed her, leaving her thoughts disjointed and scattered.
Linnet maintained her stony silence while helping Isobel dress. For spite, the girl chose the green velvet gown Isobel wore on the day of Stephen’s return from Falaise. Blinking back tears, she ran her fingers over the soft fabric.
When Robert came to escort her, she forced a smile. Taking his arm, she said, “You look well today.”
“I should. Somehow I managed to sleep all of yesterday.” He frowned at her. “But I can see you have not recovered from your ordeal. You look pale, my dear.”
“I am sorry I caused you such worry,” she said. “It was thoughtless of me not to leave you a message.”
Robert laughed. “A message would not have helped, unless you had the good sense to lie to me.”
“Has the king summoned me to ask about the attackers?”
“I can think of no other reason,” Robert said with a shrug. “I was supposed to question you yesterday, so he must have grown impatient.”
When they entered the hall, Isobel took a quick look up and down the tables. Stephen was not here, praise God. She needed time to think. Now, that was odd—de Roche was in the honored place next to the king. Her brother was seated at the far end of the high table, looking anxious.
After the king acknowledged her and Robert, he gestured for them to sit beside de Roche. Isobel sat without meeting de Roche’s eyes. After his volatile and offensive behavior of late, the prospect of sharing a trencher with him made her queasy.
Isobel could not think of a single word to say to him. She was relieved when the king rose to speak.
“This is a happy occasion,” the king said, holding his arms out. “Today we celebrate the symbolic joining of England and Normandy…”
Isobel barely heard a word the king said. She was startled to attention, though, when Robert leapt to his feet beside her.
“But, my good sire, I must beg you to put off this betrothal a little longer,” Robert said, his voice tense. “We have not yet completed negotiation of the terms of the marriage contract.”
“Since you proved unable to accomplish this simple task, I took it upon myself to assist her brother,” the king said. “The three of us met an hour ago. Agreement was easily reached.”
“With your good guidance, I’m sure it was readily done,” Robert said in a clipped voice.
“Lord de Roche has been exceedingly generous,” the king answered in an even tone. “I assure you, Lady Hume can have nothing to complain of.”
