The whole story came tumbling out. Tearle told Anne everything from the beginning, about Oliver's men kidnapping the youngest Peregrine and Tearle realizing they held a girl. He told her about Zared cutting him, about his obsession with her and how he'd arranged to be near her.
"But she has fixed on Colbrand," he said bitterly. "I throw myself over her body and protect her, yet still she does not acknowledge that I am a man."
"You could beat Colbrand. You could take Severn also. How I'd like to see him fall," she said, her eyes glittering. "After dinner today he tried to kiss me." She smiled. "I applied my knee to his brain."
Tearle snorted. "It seems we have opposite goals. Your father would not force you to marry a man who could not win the tournament." He smiled. "And I would love to beat Colbrand; I should greatly love to see him brought low."
"Were it not for this silly disguise you've adopted you could fight them. You could bring them both down. I have seen you fight, and you are better than either of them."
"Yes," Tearle said sadly, sitting up so Anne could bind his ribs. "If only I didn't need to remain as Smith—" He broke off and stared at her. "I could fight now."
"Yes," she said eagerly, "there is no reason you cannot be seen. Announce yourself as a Howard and enter the next two days. That Peregrine would not dare harm you while under my father's roof."
"No," Tearle said thoughtfully. "I will not stoop to my brother's level. Too many people have seen me with the Peregrines, and they will see them as fools for having had a Howard in their midst."
"They are fools," Anne said vehemently.
Tearle looked at her exquisite face. Was she protesting too much? "Severn does not strike me as being unattractive to women."
"He is a boor, an unmannered boor who believes a woman is his for the taking—not for the asking, mind, but for the taking."
"But not unpleasant to look at," Tearle said. "He sits a horse well."
"I should like to see him fall to the ground. I should like to hear him laughed at. I should like him seen as the fool he is. I should—"
"I understand," Tearle said, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.
"If you dare to laugh at me, I will—"
"I?" Tearle said in innocence. "I, a man sorely wounded in the cause of the Peregrines, laugh at another's ill wishes for them?"
Anne's lovely face relaxed. Tearle had known her too long and well, she thought. When that awful man, smelling of sweat and horse, had pulled her into a dark corner, she had at first responded to his kisses. There was something so very basic about the man. He seemed to take it for granted that she would be willing, even eager, to marry him. Throughout dinner he had talked easily to her father, as though they were already kin, and her father had responded in kind. Anne had sat between them, ignored. The Peregrine man had repeatedly reached across her for food, and she'd had to lean away from his elbows. He had talked across her and over her as though she weren't there.
And all the talk had been of weapons and warfare. As far as she could tell, there wasn't a finer sentiment in the man's body. At least Colbrand, the other man her father favored, had beautiful manners and had noticed when her gown matched her eyes. There were no compliments from the Peregrine. He had looked at her once as though appraising her, and as far as she knew, he hadn't glanced at her again.
After dinner he'd gone off with her father. Anne would have left them, but her father had ordered her to accompany them to the mews where he had some hawks to show the Peregrine. Anne and a couple of her ladies had followed the men, not speaking or being spoken to.
It was at the mews that the man had pulled her behind a shed and kissed her. Perhaps it was because she was so full of anger that at first she kissed him back, but it didn't take long for her to recover her senses. She'd raised her knee and brought it up between his legs. He had pushed her away from him, his face furious. Anne didn't want him to know how much he frightened her, so she had stood her ground.
He didn't say anything to her for a moment, then said, "Go back to your father," and he turned and left her. She had to admit that his reaction wasn't what she would have expected, but she was pleased she had made him so angry. Perhaps he would drop the suit for her hand.
"I shall appear in disguise," Tearle was saying.
"In disguise?"
"Yes, as… as the Black Knight. Can you find armor for me and have it painted black? I will challenge the men who have the most points so far."
"That will be Colbrand and this Peregrine. No one seems able to touch them."
Tearle remembered the way Zared looked at Colbrand each time the man came within sight of her and felt a surge of strength flow through him. "I will beat them," he said softly. "For you I will beat Severn, and for myself I will make Colbrand sorry he was born."
Anne smiled at him. "I will find the armor. Come to the garden tonight at midnight, and I will see that you have what you need. And I will see that all is arranged with my father. He will like a mystery knight to act as his champion."
Tearle rose, his wounds feeling much better. "And what if he gives you to me as my prize?"
Anne, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up at him. He was wearing only the smallest piece of white linen, and as he moved muscles played under his skin. "I would accept," she said softly.
He turned to look at her. She was so lovely, so perfectly featured, and he knew her dowry would be enormous. Uniting the Marshalls and the Howards would be a very wise thing to do, and he knew his brother would heartily approve the match. Oliver could use Anne's dowry to buy more weapons to try to destroy the Peregrines.
As he looked at Anne's face, at her perfect loveliness, he began to see Zared's face, her prettiness nothing to compare with Anne's beauty, but there was an innocence to Zared that Anne could never have. Tearle remembered the look on Zared's face when she'd tried on one of the gloves. There was a world of new and different things he'd like to show Zared.
Perhaps it was her lack of experience that fascinated him, he thought. Perhaps because he had seen and done so much in his years on earth, Zared's freshness was a delight to him. Even the open, adoring way she looked at Colbrand intrigued him. Anne, and women like her, who were used to courts full of handsome men, would never show their feelings so openly. Tearle knew that if Anne loved a man she would not tell him so unless it was suitable for her to do so. But Zared, Tearle thought, smiling—if Zared loved a man, she'd protect him with her life.
"Then I should be most honored," Tearle said, smiling as he lied.
Anne smiled, too, knowing he lied. "Get dressed. I will leave first so no one sees me alone with a half-dressed man—even if you are old enough to be my father."
Tearle smiled at her knowingly. He was pleased to have her look at him as a man. After Zared, it was pleasant to have any woman look at him. "At midnight, then," he said as she reached the door.
She nodded and left the room.
Zared left the tournament grounds more confused than ever. Too many things were happening to her. She kept remembering—feeling—the Howard man on top of her as the horse stomped on him. She could feel the blows through his body to hers. Yet later he had refused any help from her.
Had he saved her for some ulterior reason? Did he want to unite the Peregrines and the Howards? If his brother had found papers proving the Peregrines owned the land held by the Howards, Oliver Howard would merely have burned the papers. He wouldn't need to send his brother to join the two families.
She put her hands to her ears as though to stop the raging thoughts. What did the man want from her? Why didn't he just go away and leave her to herself and to… to Colbrand?
At the thought of the beautiful man Zared decided to go to his tent. Perhaps the sight of the blond man would make her forget the dark one who was beginning to haunt her.
But at Colbrand's tent she was greeted with abuse from Jamie, his squire.
"Do you come to gloat?" he sneered at her.
"No, I…" What? sh
e thought. Just wanted to see Colbrand?
"Your brother had luck on his side. My master's horse slipped."
"It did not. Severn is just a better fighter, that's all."
"He is better at naught than my master!" Jamie shouted. "My master fights better. He is a better man. Colbrand will win in the end, for he will win the Lady Anne."
Zared was too upset by the day's events to control her tongue. "My brother is to marry Lady Anne."
Jamie smiled nastily. "The Lady Anne hates your brother. She sneers at him when he does not look, but others see. Today after dinner she struck him."
Zared glared at the boy, knowing that what he said was true, but at the same time hating him for saying what he did. He was a scrawny thing and quite young. She thought she could quite likely beat him to a pulp.
She made a move toward him, but Colbrand put a hand on her shoulder.
"Fighting again?" he asked, bemused.
"I have told him of your intent to marry Lady Anne," Jamie said smugly.
"Ah, yes, the lovely Lady Anne. Her father wants a strong man for her husband."
"Then her father will want a Peregrine," Zared said evenly.
"Then he will have made a good choice in your brother," Colbrand said.
Zared smiled at him. Beautiful, kind, as well as gracious, she thought.
Zared would have answered him, but at that moment Severn came by, angrily grabbed her ear, and pulled her toward their tent. "What are you doing?" she demanded, but he wouldn't answer her.
Once inside the tent he released her. "Where is Smith?"
Zared was rubbing her painful ear. "I do not know. He is my keeper, not I his."
Severn poured himself wine. "I have heard what happened today, that he saved you, and in protecting you he was trampled by a horse."
Zared turned away. "He had his reasons for what he did."
"Aye. He believes himself in love with you."
Zared looked back, wide-eyed. "In love?" she gasped. "With me?"
"You are no more surprised than I, but he looks at you with lovesick eyes just as Rogan looks at Liana." And I vow never to look that way at a woman, he thought.
"Your brain was knocked from your head," she said. "The man cares naught for me."
"He has known always that you are female. He goes to you when you weep at night, and now he has saved your life."
Zared was horrified by the conversation. She had never spoken of love—or any emotion, for that matter—with her brothers. "What would you have of me?" she asked suspiciously.
"I believe Liana means for you to marry the man. She must have sent him here to court you."
"Liana did not—"
"Did not what?"
"Does not mean for me to marry him," she said, unable to tell him any more of the truth. "What matter is it to you who I marry?"
"The man knows weapons. He gave me advice so that I beat Colbrand."
"I see," Zared said coolly. "You want me to marry him so you can have someone to help you beat other men in tournaments."
"To help our family beat the Howards."
"He'll not help you there!" she snapped, then, to cover herself, she attacked. "Why do you not marry to help our family? Are you pushing me to marry because you think you may not get the Lady Anne? I hear she struck you."
Severn's face turned red with anger. "What I do with a woman is not your concern."
"And my life is yours? You cannot get a wife, so you are foisting me on some man you know nothing of?"
"I know he wants you, which no other man does," Severn snapped.
It was true, all so painfully true, she thought. Only one man desired her, and he was her family's sworn enemy. She pushed past Severn, jerking from him when he tried to hold her, and left the tent. As soon as she was outside she started running, and she didn't stop until she reached the stream.
She sat down on the bank, put her head on her arms, and began to cry. Why couldn't life be simple for her as it seemed to be for everyone else? Of course, other people seemed to be sure whether they were male or female.
She didn't know how long she sat there crying as quietly as possible, but the moon rose, and still she stayed there.
At one point, when she wiped her nose on her sleeve, she jumped to see the Howard man next to her. "Have you no work to do?" she snapped.
He stretched out on the bank beside her. "Nay, I have none. I am of the worthless Howards, do you not remember?"
Zared looked at him. Severn said the man desired her, she thought.
"I remember how your brother took Rogan's first wife, Jeanne, and later he took Liana."
"You could have been no more than a babe," he said. "How could you remember Jeanne? She is the best there is about Oliver."
Zared looked at the moonlight on the water. "Liana speaks highly of her." Her voice lowered. "Does she love your brother Oliver very much?" Zared had never told anyone before, but the story of Rogan's first wife fascinated her. Her oldest brothers had chosen Rogan as the one to take a wife because they needed the dowry a wife would bring. Rogan had married a young woman named Jeanne, but mere months after the marriage Oliver Howard had taken her prisoner.
The Peregrine men had fought long and hard for the return of Rogan's wife—so hard that two of their brothers had been killed. It was after their deaths that the Peregrines found out that the captive Jeanne had fallen in love with Oliver Howard and was carrying his child.
A child herself then, Zared only remembered the quiet rage of her three remaining brothers. Her parents and her brother William had died the year before, and Zared remembered being afraid that one by one her brothers would leave her.
"I believe that Jeanne loved him once," Tearle said, bringing her back to the present. "But I am not so sure now. My brother is bitter at having no sons to pass his wealth to."
"Rogan has a son," she said, smiling in memory of the baby with red-gold curls.
He didn't say anything for a moment, then, very softly, he said, "Why do you cry? Why do you weep in your sleep and now, here, alone, as well?"
Zared was on her feet instantly and starting back to the camp. But he came to his feet quickly and caught her by the shoulders. "Release me or I will make you regret your hold of me."
"Oh?" he said, smiling at her. "Will you draw a knife on me again? Will you call for your beloved Colbrand?"
"He is not my—" she began, then she wrenched away from him and took a step forward before he caught her again.
"So this is why you cry? Did he ignore you? Did you again make a fool of yourself before him? Did he again fail to recognize you as female?"
She tried to twist away from him, but he wouldn't release his grip, and after a moment she stopped struggling. "What do you want of me?" she hissed at him. "Why do you not go and leave me to myself? Are there no other women to interest you? We are enemies! Do you not understand that? Since you cannot conquer us in battle, do you mean to conquer us with your pretense of friendship?"
Her eyes were blazing, and he was so close to her. "Nay, I do not want friendship," he said in a husky whisper before drawing her into his arms.
At first she struggled against his lips touching hers. She pushed against him, tried to turn her head away, but his hand held the back of her head, and she could not move away. Realizing that it was no use fighting him, she allowed her body to go limp, thinking that as soon as he lightened his grip she would escape him.
But when she stopped struggling the oddest thing happened. He loosened the hold on her head, and his lips on hers softened, and the feeling was… was something Zared had never felt before.
She just stood there, her eyes wide open, as he kissed her, and she could feel her body growing warmer by the second. He used his hand to turn her head sideways. Zared felt her body being pulled against his, and it was as though she melted into him, her head going against his thick, hard shoulder.
His lips opened over hers, tempting her into opening them. She closed her eyes and leaned ag
ainst him as his body covered hers, and she felt as though she were drowning. He moved his lips off of hers to kiss her cheeks, her temple, her neck, moving down to her throat.
Zared leaned against him, her body a mass of sensations. Her life had been entirely without affection. To be touched so gently, to be held, to be kissed was almost more than she could bear.
Tearle leaned back from her and looked at her in his arms. She was leaning on him fully. If he released her she would no doubt fall to the ground. No woman had ever put herself into his care so completely. He touched her hair, smoothed it back from her temple. When she loved a man, she was going to love him with all her being—and he meant to be that man.
"My name is Tearle," he whispered as he kissed her forehead, and the old name, meaning one who is without tears, sounded like a caress.
"Tearle," she whispered against his neck.
He smiled down at her, for there was the softness he'd always known she possessed. "I should like to take you away with me," he said softly, touching the hair at her temples. "I would make love to you all night and into the morning."
She moved closer to him and put her face up to be kissed again.
Tearle kissed her slowly, softly, a gentle kiss for a virgin. "Now, my love, I must return you to your brother."
"Mmmm" was all Zared could say as she put her face in his neck, her lips on his skin. She'd had no idea that touching a man could be so pleasant.
Tearle pulled her away from him, and the look on her face made his body grow hot. He could take her if he wanted; he knew that. "We have to return," he said. For leaving her a virgin that night he was sure that in heaven he would be given a crown of gold.
He put her hand in his and started leading her back toward the tents.
They had gone only a few yards when Zared's senses returned to her. She shook her head as though to clear a fog from it, then jerked her hand from his. She had just given herself to the enemy. Instead of remembering that she was a Peregrine and the man her family's enemy, she had lost all memory and allowed him to touch her. Allowed him? She would have allowed him much more if he'd wanted it—which he had not. He had broken from her when she would have gone on.