"No!" Zared and Tearle said in unison.
Tearle knew that if she left now, he'd never see her again. "I will see to her," he said quickly.
"You?" Zared said, sneering. "You, a—"
"A what?" Tearle asked, daring her to tell Severn he was a Howard.
Zared looked at her brother. "He's a coward and a weakling, and he can't look after anyone."
At another time Severn might have been puzzled by his sister's animosity toward the stranger, but he had too much on his mind. "Liana sent him; she chose him." His opinion of his sister-in-law was rising by the hour. He should have listened to her and taken the clothes and left his sister at home, he thought.
"Liana didn't—"
"Didn't what?" Severn asked.
"Didn't know what he was like. He's too weak to protect anyone. If the Howards attacked, he'd probably deliver me to them." That was as close as she could come to telling her brother the truth.
Severn looked at the man Liana had sent and couldn't reconcile his sister's words with what he saw. The fellow Smith was a bear of a man: big, thick, muscular. While Zared had slept Severn had seen just how strong the man was when he'd helped unload weapons and armor. And twice Severn had seen him hold a sword in a way that told Severn the man had had some training.
"Will you pledge your life to protect her?" Severn asked.
"I will," Tearle answered, and there was truth in his eyes.
"No! Oh, Severn, no, you cannot do this to me."
"You have done it to yourself," Severn said, rising, feeling much better. "See that she does not let the world know she is female. Keep her out of fights, and for the sake of all of us, keep her out of men's beds. I promised Liana I'd return her with her virginity intact."
"I will protect her always," Tearle said. "You have my word."
"Good," Severn said, standing. "She is yours to guard. See that no one knows the truth of her. Now I must watch the jousts. I must weigh my opponents' abilities." He turned and left the tent.
Zared stood where she was, staring after her brother. Never in all her imaginings could she have conceived of where she was. Her brother had just put her under the care of their family's sworn enemy. A Howard was to protect her from the Howards.
"Do not look at me so," Tearle said when Severn was gone. "I have told you again and again that I will not harm you. I will protect you."
"Your family has killed mine for three generations, yet I am to believe that a Howard is now my friend? No," she said tauntingly, "you are to be my husband."
Tearle winced at her words and again asked himself why he did not leave. Perhaps her words weighed on him, and he felt the sins of his ancestors and his brothers on his shoulders. Perhaps his ancestors had stolen the Peregrine lands.
"It is time for supper," he said, "and you must serve your brother and his men."
"I must what?"
Tearle smiled at her. She carried the title of squire, but she also bore the name of Peregrine. Usually when a boy reached about seven years of age he was sent to foster with a family other than his own. People had known for centuries that a boy would gladly take lessons from strangers but would learn nothing from his own family. Zared, who was used to eating beside her brother, was balking at fetching his meat and wine.
"I have told your brother I will care for you, and I mean to see that you do your duty. If you have more work to do, you will have less time to make a fool of yourself over Colbrand."
"I have had more than enough of your orders." She strode to the open tent flap. "I am going to supper by myself."
Zared had to elbow her way between two squires to get the hunk of meat Severn had told her to fetch for him. She was trying to keep her temper, but it wasn't easy. Severn had very much liked the idea of his little sister serving him, and he also wanted to punish her a bit for having neglected him earlier in the day. He'd point to joints of meat on other tables and command her to get him a piece.
"Get your brother a napkin," the Howard man told her.
"Why? He will not use it," Zared had retorted.
Of course Severn had then decided that the thing he wanted most in life was a napkin, so Zared had had to run and find one for him.
With every move she made she glared at the Howard man. Severn had seated him at his right hand, and they looked for all the world to be old friends. Friends who had a common enemy, she thought. Me.
It was a long meal, and Zared was so busy she never had a moment even to look about her. She'd had such dreams about going to the tournament with her brother, and so far all of it had been a disaster.
At long last the meal was over, and the men, the Marshall family, the king, and the guests began to file out of the enormous hall and go about their evening's entertainment. Some of the young men invited Zared to go whoring with them, but she declined. She tore off a big chunk of beef, took half a loaf of bread and a flagon of wine, and left the hall.
"I have waited for you," Tearle said as soon as she was outside.
Zared nearly dropped the wine. Was there no reprieve from the man? "Leave me," she said.
"I have sworn to your brother to protect you."
"From what? From yourself? Can you not see that I do not want you near me? Go and find another to inflict yourself upon. Leave me to myself."
Tearle looked at her, and quite suddenly he wondered why he was forcing himself where he was not wanted. His brother wasn't going to come after her, not while Tearle was at the tournament. He looked around, and there were hundreds of people milling about, and groups of boys teasing groups of girls. There were ladies in their long gowns being escorted by gentlemen in fur-trimmed tunics. There were vendors hawking goods, acrobats climbing on top of one another, singers and musicians.
"Go," he said. "Go, but do not stay so late that I have to come looking for you."
Zared practically ran from him, hurrying into the crowd to get away from him as fast as she could. She ate her food as she walked about and looked at what was for sale, at the performers, at a dog baiting a chained bear. The sights were all wondrous and new, and they kept her attention for quite some time.
But her good mood fled when a pretty young village girl began flirting with her. Zared glared at the girl, but instead of leaving she came up to Zared and asked if she'd like to go for a walk. Zared turned on her heel and left the girl.
Some other girls, daughters of rich merchants, walked by in their lovely gowns, jeweled headdresses twinkling, and Zared tried to memorize everything they wore. She'd like to wear something like their gowns with their trailing skirts, she thought. She watched the girls glance over their shoulders at a group of boys, and the boys follow like dogs answering a whistle.
"Come with us," one of the boys called to her.
Zared stepped back and shook her head.
"He's one of those Peregrines," she heard one of the boys say, and they all laughed.
Zared turned away, feeling as though she didn't belong anywhere. She didn't belong with the girls, and she didn't belong with the boys. And their entrance into the tournament had made the Peregrine name a source of laughter.
"Tomorrow Severn will fix that," she whispered to herself, vowing to help her brother in any way that she could. She wouldn't allow the Howard man to drug her so she slept the next day away.
The people and the commotion had lost its appeal to her, and all at once she wished she were at home. She would go up on the battlements of Moray Castle and look out across the fields to the trees in the distance. She wished she could sit in Liana's solar and listen to one of her ladies sing.
She wondered where Severn was. "Probably with some woman," she said in disgust. Her brother never seemed to have trouble acquiring women.
She kept walking away from the noise until she reached the stream in the trees that ran near the Marshall estates. There seemed to be a couple of grunting people under every bush, and as Zared sidestepped them she felt lonelier than ever. She couldn't go with the girls and didn't want to g
o with the boys, so there was nowhere for her to go.
She followed the stream, stepping over bracken, moving around trees. It was almost full dark, but the moonlight was bright. Ahead of her she heard splashing and stepped through the trees expecting to see a deer. Instead, what she saw halted her and made her draw in her breath.
Standing in ankle-deep water, his back to her, was Colbrand, and he wore not a stitch of clothing. A warmth flooded her body as she looked at him, his white skin looking silver in the moonlight. Her mouth grew dry as she looked at him, and her knees grew weak.
He turned to look at her over his shoulder and smiled. "Young Peregrine. Come and wash my back."
Zared tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she waded into the icy water. She didn't bother to remove her shoes for, truthfully, she didn't remember that she wore shoes. Her eyes were only on Colbrand's bare body.
She took the soap he handed her and lathered his back. Her hands spread out over the muscles in his back, down his arms, to the small of his back and lower.
Colbrand laughed. "It seems you are better at many things than my squire. Why is it you are not out kissing girls as Jamie is?" he asked.
"I…" She couldn't speak when she was touching him. She seemed to change from a thinking person to one who could only feel.
He turned toward her, and Zared gulped. Would he realize she was female? Would he kiss her?
"Fetch the bucket that I may rinse," he said, and Zared obeyed him.
He had to kneel before her so she could pour buckets of water over him, and as she did so her heart pounded in her ears. He was so close to her.
"My thanks to you," he said, standing and walking to the bank, where he began to dry off.
Zared just stood in the water and gazed at him. Was there any other man on earth as splendid-looking as he? Golden hairs glistened on his muscular forearms.
"Will you stay in the water all night?" Colbrand asked, smiling.
"Ah, no." She left the water and didn't notice that her feet were half frozen. She just stood there and watched as Colbrand began to put on his clothes. "You… you are seeing someone?" she managed to ask. I will rip out her eyes, she thought.
"The Lady Anne," Colbrand answered. "Her father has invited me to talk with him of the morrow's games, and I believe the Lady Anne is to be there."
"She is beautiful," she said, and there was resignation in her voice.
"And rich," he said, laughing. "Now I must go. If you see my squire, tell him to sleep some tonight, as I'll need him fresh on the morrow." He gave Zared a little wave, and then he was gone.
She stood staring after him for a while, then sat on the cold bank and looked at the water. How did she have a chance with Colbrand when her competition was Lady Anne? She couldn't offer more beauty, more money, more anything than Lady Anne. "Except maybe a sweeter temper," she said aloud, remembering Severn's encounter with the woman.
She sat there for a long time, completely lost in her thoughts, and didn't hear the man behind her.
"I have searched for you," Tearle said.
Zared was feeling so low that she didn't even curse at him. She just kept looking at the stream.
Tearle had tried to occupy himself at the tournament but, unlike Zared, he had been to many a similar gathering in France, and there was little to hold his interest. A few women had cast their eyes at him, but he'd looked away. For some reason it seemed that only red hair interested him. It was no doubt the challenge Zared represented to him. After an hour or so without her he'd begun to search for her and had become concerned when he couldn't find her.
He had at last swallowed his pride, found Colbrand, and asked if he had seen the young Peregrine squire. Colbrand had said that Zared had helped him bathe, and that news had sent a current of rage through Tearle. It hadn't taken him long to find her after that.
He wanted to lecture her, wanted to tell her again that she was making a fool of herself, but there was a look on her face that stopped him. He sat down beside her.
"It is time for bed," he said. "Your brother will be on the lists early tomorrow."
Zared kept looking at the water. "I will be there."
"What plagues you?" he asked softly.
She turned toward him, her eyes sparkling. "You!" she snapped. "Why do you know I am female if no one else does?"
"I do not know. If you refer to Colbrand, he does not know because he is stupid. He's like an animal, clever enough to fight but not clever enough to think."
"Why do you hate him so? Because he can do manly things that you cannot? Are you jealous of all men who are men?"
She started to rise, but he caught her arm and made her sit back down.
"What defines a man to you? Fighting skill? You fainted for Colbrand before you ever saw him fight; you have not yet seen him fight. How do you know him to be a man? You step into the water with him, run your hands over his nude body, and he is not smart enough to know that a woman touches him—a woman who lusts for him. Is stupidity what makes a man to you?"
"You are jealous," she said in wonder. "You are jealous of Colbrand. Why? Because he can have all the women, and you can have none?"
"None?" He looked at her, then stood, looming over her. "Can you not see me? Can you not forget that I am a Howard long enough to look at me?"
She looked up at him, but he was right. The fact that he was a Howard blinded her to all else.
He turned away, his hands in fists, for he saw that his words made no difference to her. What did he care? he asked himself for the thousandth time. What did it matter what this one young woman thought of him? Why wasn't he enjoying himself? He could be laughing and drinking, with a buxom wench on his lap and another beside him, but instead he was standing in the dark trying to make one hardheaded imp of a girl see that he was as handsome as an idiot like Colbrand. He, Tearle, was handsome, rich, strong, educated, yet this girl treated him like a farrier's son.
He turned back to her. "Come, we will return to your brother's tent. He will worry if you are not there."
"Severn will not spend the night alone. He will spend it with a woman."
She said this with such heaviness in her voice that he smiled, realizing that she had been sitting there feeling sorry for herself, no doubt because Colbrand hadn't known she was a female.
He could not bear to see her feeling sorry for herself, and he knew enough about her to know that her pride was stronger than her self-pity.
"Peregrine," he said with mock severity, "were you to don the most beautiful gown on earth, Colbrand would not notice you. You could not be a woman no matter what you wore. You could not entice any man."
She reacted as he'd hoped. She shot up to stand in front of him. "I could have any man I wanted. Liana says I'm pretty."
"A woman has told you that, but not a man?" He was chuckling at her.
But Zared didn't realize he was teasing her, and she felt herself close to tears. He was saying all the things she'd felt. "A man would tell me that if he knew I were a woman. Lots of men would like me if—"
Abruptly Tearle's teasing spirit left him. She could entice any man she wanted, but whom would she want to entice? "Such as Colbrand?" he said with some anger. "He doesn't even notice you when you run your hands over him. Why do you think he would notice you if you wore different clothes?"
"I hate you," she whispered. "Hate you." She turned away from him and started up the bank.
He stopped in front of her. He had not meant to make her cry, but her lust for Colbrand was more than he could bear. "Would it mean anything to you if I said you were pretty and as feminine as any woman I have met?" he asked softly.
She looked away from him. She would not let him see her cry. "Your words mean less than nothing to me." She stepped around him and walked away, trying to keep her shoulders back.
Tearle watched her go and felt rotten as he followed her back to the tent. In his teasing of her he had only hurt himself.
Chapter Six
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There were three cots in the main Peregrine tent, with Severn's men sleeping in the secondary tent. Zared was already on one cot, the light blanket pulled up to her chin, when Tearle returned. He didn't say anything, just undressed down to his loincloth and got into bed.
He didn't go to sleep right away but lay awake and looked at the tent ceiling. The girl was doing something to him that he didn't like; she was making him into someone he didn't know. Where was the man who could kiss and caress a woman, the man who teased and laughed with women? The girl, somehow, made him feel little except anger.
He went to sleep vowing that he would not get angry again, that no matter what she did, he would not become angry. He woke only slightly when Severn came in and fell facedown on his cot.
Just before dawn Tearle awoke, his eyes wide, his senses alert, and he knew that something was wrong. He lay there quietly, listening to the silence outside the tent, trying to sense if there was some danger. His first thought was that his brother was outside, and his hand slipped down to the sword he kept by the cot.
After a moment of listening he realized that the apprehension he felt came from inside the tent and not outside. He threw back the cover and went to stand over Zared. She made no sound, but he knew she was crying. He sat on the edge of her cot and pulled her into his arms, realizing as soon as he touched her that she was still asleep. Did she often cry in her sleep? Did she always cry so silently?
He held her body, wrapped only in one thin layer of linen, against his bare chest and cradled her to him. Like the child she was not far from being, she snuggled against him, her hot tears wetting the mat of hair on his chest. If he had not felt her unbound breasts pressing against him, he would have thought her to be a child.
He held her securely while she cried, stroking her hair and wondering what made her weep so in her sleep.
Severn had awakened before Tearle. He knew his sister cried, for she often wept in her sleep, just as her mother had done, but he didn't go to her. He lay awake, silent, ready to go to her if she needed him, but he did not try to stop her weeping.