Page 90 of Viking in Love

“What wedding?” Dunstan’s stiffened posture in the chair bespoke the fury to come.

“My friend Geoffrey Fitzwilliam is to marry Lady Sybil of Heatherby, Lord Moreton’s widow,” Caedmon interjected. “I was under the impression you had come this far north to officiate.”

“Never! I was told that Lady Moreton would marry the king’s choice in due time after her period of mourning. This is a disgrace. Her husband is scarce cold in the ground.”

“Well, I am sure you will be able to settle the matter once you go there.” Caedmon paused. “When might that be?”

“Not until I settle matters here first,” he said icily. “Back to you, m’lady. What are you doing here alone in a keep full of men?”

“Uh…”

“She has a chaperon,” Caedmon inserted quickly.

I do?

“And who might that be?”

Caedmon’s face turned red. She could tell he was stumped for what to say. But never did she expect him to say what he did. “Lady Amicia.”

Breanne barely stifled a snort of disbelief.

“Why have I not seen her?”

“A megrim,” Breanne told him. Good Lord! We are telling one lie after another here. To a holy priest, at that. “Her head was aching; so I told her to lie down and rest.”

“You will present her at dinner this evening.”

By the stars, how will we ever manage that?

“Of course,” Caedmon agreed.

“And, by the by, Caedmon, you will seat no women above the salt whilst I am here. Too many men are lax in putting their women above themselves.”

“That is what I always say, Your Grace. Keep women in their place.”

She was going to throttle Caedmon when they left this room.

“Now, m’lady, I will have the truth from you. Why are you here at Larkspur? And no more lies.”

There was a long pause before Caedmon raised a hand for permission to speak for her.

“The princess Breanne is too shy to disclose the real reason why she is here.” He cast her a false smile of besottedness, before telling the archbishop, “We are betrothed.”

Breanne blinked several times and clicked her gaping jaw shut. Whaaaaat?

“Do you not think it would have been wiser to get the king’s permission first?”

“We are in love,” Caedmon said, batting his eyelashes at her like a cow-eyed youthling.

“Pfff!” was the archbishop’s opinion of love. He turned to Breanne then. “Do you have a dowry?”

She nodded hesitantly.

“How much?”

She really resented this invasion of her privacy, but felt compelled to answer, naming the generous sum her father had settled on each of his daughters.

Caedmon turned slowly to look at her in astonishment, while Dunstan was practically wringing his hands with anticipation at the cut he and the king might gain as their portion. She had told Caedmon before; he must have forgotten.