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He was the kind of man brides fled from—or pretended life-threatening maladies to avoid wedding with.

His was the reputation that sent maids and men alike scurrying for cover with prayers for deliverance on their lips.

He was a betrothed fierce enough of reputation to leave a maid thinking she had no choice but to flee into hose for safety.

Was he the betrothed this girl had been fleeing?

If so, that would make her...

Aliénore of Solonge.

Colin looked at her, blinked, then blinked again.

Then he clapped his hand to his head and wondered where it was he’d lost all sense.

This couldn’t be Aliénore. It couldn’t be.

This wench was full of wit and courage. Aliénore was full of, well, he didn’t know what she was full of, but it couldn’t be those fine, manly traits.

She was likely soft, mewing, and afeared of her own shadow.

After all, she’d fled him, had she not? Nay, that wench possessed no redeeming qualities, no courage, no cleverness.

Not like his Henri.

Then again, Henri had certainly been terrified of him at first.

He retrieved his dagger from where it had come close to impaling him high up on the thigh—too high, he noticed with alarm—and used it to pick carefully through the remaining meat on the wooden trencher before him.

He put the pieces one by one before Henri, on the pretense of feeding her, when he was in truth looking very closely to see what sort of creature she might really be.

He could see little inside her hood except the shape of her nose.

A nose, he discovered upon further study, that looked a damned sight like a feminine version of Denis of Solonge’s.

He cast about frantically for a plausible explanation. Noses were noses, weren’t they? Many people had similar ones, and that didn’t guarantee they were related to those similar noses. Perhaps hers was merely a French nose. Aye, that was it. Colin nodded, feeling much more comfortable.

But that comfort was very short-lived when he actually got down to the business of examining the facts.

Henri had fled a cruel mistress. Marie, perhaps? She was certainly not a servant, which could only make her either an excessively cheeky freewoman or a highborn lady in disguise.

She had served Sybil how long? He wished he’d asked when he wouldn’t have startled her with the question. He certainly couldn’t lean over now and prod her for an answer. Though finding out she’d been at Maignelay-sur-mer for a pair of years certainly would have cleared up a few things for him.

He blinked, then looked and realized that Lord Denis was speaking to him.

“Eh?” he asked, dragging himself back to the present.

“I asked you if you thought you might find my girl in truth.”

Colin looked at the man and wondered if he might have his clarity of vision just the same with a well-spoken query or two.

“Do you care?” he asked bluntly.

Henri’s shoulder twitched.

“Care?” Denis asked hoarsely. “What kind of man are you to ask that?”

“You betrothed her to me, knowing what kind of man I am. What does that say for your care?”

“I didn’t arrange it,” the older man said stiffly. “Marie did.”

“And you allowed it?” Colin asked, surprised. Perhaps Marie held greater sway here than he thought.

“I was...,” he paused for several moments, looking away. “I was not myself. Not thinking clearly.”

“Thank you,” Colin said dryly.

Lord Denis looked at him and flushed slightly. “No offense to you, of course.”

Colin shrugged. “I am accustomed to brides finding a way of avoiding coming to the altar with me. I’m not accustomed to them bolting outright.”

“Aliénore is very resourceful,” Denis admitted. “Smarter than all my lads put together is that one.”

“She sounds a tolerable wench,” Colin said, watching Henri’s hands. “Likely no match for me, but I suppose that could be endured.” Henri had stopped eating whilst Lord Denis was speaking. Now she clutched her fork and knife as if she’d fancy using them as weapons.

On him, perhaps?

“I heard you vowed to kill her should you ever find her,” Denis continued.

“Aye,” Colin said. “So I did.”

Henri dropped her knife. Colin reached over casually and handed it back to her.

“Were you in earnest?”

Colin made a few noises one might associate with deep reflection, then shrugged his shoulders. “I was at the time,” he said.

“And now?”

“Now ... well, I suppose now doesn’t matter, as I am unlikely to find her, am I?”

Denis pushed his chair back with a deep sigh. He looked at Colin, and the hurt plain on his face was enough to make Colin regret having toyed with Henri at Lord Denis’s expense.

“I had hoped,” he said quietly, “that the rumors of you were not true. You had given me hope this afternoon that I might find you a different sort of man. I’d wished it, for my Alienore’s sake.”

And with that, he turned and walked toward the stairs. Colin felt remorse prick at him fiercely. He clapped Henri on the shoulder.

“Wait for me. Do not leave the hall.”

Henri only nodded. Colin rose and quickly followed Lord Denis. He stopped the man halfway up the stairs.

“My lord,” Colin said quietly, “I could not speak freely before my man there, but I will tell you here that should I find Aliénore, no harm will come to her by me.”

The man’s eyes filled with tears. Colin had to roll his to keep them from filling up likewise in sympathy.

“She is a good girl,” Denis said quietly. “Beautiful and courageous. I fear she finds herself in dire straits with no hope of rescue. I had hoped, at first, that perhaps... you...”

“I will,” Colin said. “I will find her. And when I do, I vow I’ll protect her with my very life.”

“But there is so little hope,” Denis said faintly.

There is much more than you realize, Colin said silently. He merely nodded to the man and turned back to the great hall. He stood at the foot of the stairs and looked at Henri, alone and hunched over the table. Could this be she? Was there a way to know, short of asking her?

In case she didn’t want him, of course.

He walked over and sat down next to her.

“Aliénore,” he began slowly.

Her startled jump was telling.

“Aliénore needs us,” he finished, reaching for his wine. “We will consult with her sire tomorrow, then begin our search. Will you aid me, Henri?”

The hood turned toward him slowly. “And when you find her, my lord? What will you do then?”

“What do you think I should do?” he asked. “Slay her? Beat her? Shout at her for making me fodder for jests all over England?”

“Were you that?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“Only by those with a mind for a shortened life,” he replied.

She laughed.

The sound so startled him that he could only gape at her. By the saints, it was heavenly music he’d just heard. And he realized, then, that he had never once seen her smile—well, except at Jason, but that hardly counted where he was concerned—or heard her express any kind of humor or joy.

“That amuses you?” he asked, wondering if he might startle her into another such sound.

She shook her head and he could have sworn he saw the remains of a smile on her shadowed face.

“Nay,” she said quietly. “Nay, my lord, it doesn’t. But surely your reputation protected you from her cowardly actions.”

He couldn’t correct her without spewing forth more than he dared, so he merely remained silent and waited for her to turn back to her supper. When, after several minutes, he realized she had no intentions of eating any more, he rose.

“Come, Henri, and let us see if we can find a safe place in this hall of horrors. I assume that that soul loitering by the stairs in that useless fashion is Marie’s servant. Mayhap he’ll be capable of showing us our beds.”

Henri only nodded and rose to follow him.

Henri. Aliénore. He scarce knew what to call her.

But as he bedded down a short while later on the floor of a very small, very filthy chamber with her next to him, he found that for the first time in years, he had a reason to do something besides scowl.

The woman he loved and the woman he was betrothed to finding home in the same body.

Miracles never ceased.

Perhaps he should have worried that she wouldn’t want him. Perhaps he should have worried that if he revealed what he knew, she would flee again. Perhaps he should have offered to release her from her contract.

Tomorrow, he decided. He would think on all that tomorrow.

He would decide when and how to reveal what he knew to her.

He would decide what was to be done with Sir Etienne—for ’twas a certainty he couldn’t let the man go unpunished.

He had more reason than ever to see him earn his just reward.

And he would have to decide how to free Aliénore from Solonge without Marie harming her.

Which would likely be the most difficult task of all.

But for now, it was enough to enjoy the complete improbability of finding himself feeling ... happy.

How his father would have ground his teeth at the thought!

He turned his head to look at his betrothed. “Sleep well,” he said quietly.

She was silent for a moment or two, then sighed. “Thank you, my lord. You, too.”

He smiled inside.