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For the rest of the journey to Hillesley, Elizabeth considered John. He was obviously a man who had felt the need to leave his family permanently at a young age, and some of the reasons were now clear. She tried to imagine how she would have felt were her father a strict, cold man. Maybe she would have wanted to marry earlier, to escape.

But maybe William wouldn’t have wanted to marry earlier. She’d always thought it was her father’s doing that she was yet a maiden, but could her father have been protecting her from knowing that William wasn’t ready? That he was having too good a time in London?

She’d thought John had abandoned his family to go off on a personal hunt for glory. But when he heard about her parents’ death, he’d left that life to come to her, even though he was vulnerable without an army. So much more was at stake for him than her happiness: the resurrection of Rame Castle, his access to power and wealth beyond anything a mercenary knight could know. All of it without having to bow to his family’s needs.

When they arrived at the village, she continued to watch him carefully throughout the afternoon. She saw him hand her missive to Philip, who galloped away after giving her a smile. A little girl brought John a sweet, and he got down on one knee to talk to her while he ate it. After they’d examined the early growth of fruit in the orchards, they watched several little boys playing at sword fighting with sticks. John had freely given advice, had even delayed their meeting with Hugh to show the proper technique for holding a sword.

Elizabeth had a sudden memory of William’s impatience when dealing with his squire. Had he treated his youngest brother the same way?

She didn’t like to think of William’s flaws, but he’d been human like everyone else. She’d never been able to see that.

Could he have neglected his own castle?

Nay, surely that was too much.

But he hadn’t returned home to see for himself. He’d been too busy in London with his amusements.

From long ago, the betrothal contract had been written that she was to marry the heir, the baron, not William in particular. Had even his parents had their doubts?

And was some of her anger directed at William, who had died so foolishly and left her in this mess, watching the death of all her childhood dreams of romance and marriage? She’d always had everything planned to perfection, and it was all gone now.

Was she taking some of this out on John?

On the way back to Castle Alderley, she decided she needed to resolve some confusion. “John, last night you were so furious with me. What changed overnight? I was expecting a miserable trip, and instead you talked about your family as if all our disagreements had never happened.”

He didn’t look at her, but she thought he clenched his jaw. “I simply realized that arguing would serve no purpose.”

“So you’re still angry.”

He glanced at her. “Are you not? Does it not anger you that we have been put into this situation not of our making?”

She braced her elbows on her knees. “Aye, I’m angry,” she said in a low voice.

“At who? Tell me. I know you’re angry with me. The method I chose to get close to you hurt; if not you, it would have hurt Anne. My apologizing doesn’t make it go away.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, worried that if she started to talk, the tears would start, too.

“I’ve spent the day trying to treat you as you want to be treated,” he said.

“I never⁠—”

“Every chance you get, you throw into my face the deference William paid to you. You seem to want an abstract man, not a flesh-and-blood man with needs.”

“I thought you treated me in this distant fashion because you now have everything you wanted from me.”

“Everything I wanted?” he said in disbelief, letting the reins go slack. “I’m torn between ending this captivity the way I want, or finding a solution that suits you. I’m actually beginning to hope there is a League of the Blade, because we could use them. But most of all, if I had everything I wanted, I’d be touching you, instead of doing my damnedest to keep my hands to myself, like this mythical, romantic man you seem to want.”

The cart came to a stop in the middle of the road, the horse dropped his head down to nibble grass, and Elizabeth gaped at John. He was trying to behave as he thought she wanted? As if she even knew what she wanted anymore. There had been so many revelations in the past few days that her head was spinning from it all. She felt confused and uncertain, and so formless as to be shifting with any wind that passed.

The soldier who’d accompanied them for protection now glanced at them over his shoulder, shrugged, and kept riding.

“Aye, I’m angry,” she said again. “I’m angry that every plan I made is gone. I’m angry that your brother was stupid enough to die, and maybe wasn’t the man I thought he was. I’m even angry at my parents, God rest their souls, for not finding some way to have me safely married.”

“That is one thing I am glad did not happen.”

His voice was low and fierce and husky. His desire was a thing she didn’t trust, too raw, too primitive, and too full of sensations that she didn’t understand. Just the look in his eyes affected her powerfully. She had to turn away, holding herself, trembling.

She heard him pick up the reins to urge the horse to trot again, leaving her alone with her chaotic thoughts. She had a need of him, in more ways than one, and she wasn’t used to needing anyone.