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Colin called her stepmother a very unflattering name.

“Tsk-tsk,” Marie chided. “So unchivalrous. I daresay you would have done the same thing. Didn’t you make a vow to slay Aliénore in the most painful of ways when you found her?”

Well, she had him there, Ali had to admit to herself.

But Colin’s grip on her shoulder’s didn’t change. He cleared his throat.

“I don’t kill for sport.”

“Neither do I,” Marie snapped. “I kill to rid the world of weaklings. Like Marguerite.” She fixed Ali with a hate-filled gaze. “Like her daughter, Aliénore.”

Ali would have likely swayed a bit more, but it was difficult to do the like when she was being held up by a man who still had his hands on her shoulders and not around her neck.

Was it possible he was rethinking his vow to slay her?

Promising to give that some thought later, Ali turned her attentions back to her stepmother.

“You can’t poison me,” she said. “I’ll never again drink anything at your table.” Never mind that she might not have the chance to ever drink anything else at Marie’s table. It was satisfying just to say the words.

“But, my dear,” Marie said with a cold smile, “you already have.”

Ali swayed, but Colin hauled her back against his chest.

“She wouldn’t have done it already,” he said quietly. “Not until she’d tormented you first. I know her kind.”

Ali looked at Marie and saw the briefest flash of displeasure cross her features. It was replaced soon enough with that annoying look of triumph, but it was enough to make Ali wonder if Colin might have it aright.

Colin patted her shoulder in his usual bone-breaking fashion. “Make her choose her weapon,” he said.

Ali looked over her shoulder at him. “What did you say?”

“What did you say?” Marie echoed.

Colin shrugged. “I didn’t train you for all that skill to be lost in a circle of stitchers, now did I? Avenge your dam. Kill this vexatious wench and let us be on our way.”

“But...”

“You’ve the skill.”

“But...”

“And the courage,” he added. “Have her choose her weapon and her place, Aliénore, then kill her. I’ll say it was provoked, that you had to defend yourself, and we’ll be done with the thing.”

Marie’s movement was so sudden, Ali almost didn’t see her coming. She turned just in time to see the blade flashing down toward her.

And Colin, damn him, did nothing but move out of the way so his tunic likely didn’t get splattered with her blood.

She had little time to think on how she would curse him for that.

Her mind cleared and she was left with nothing in its place but the instincts she’d had drilled into her for the past two months.

She leaped out of the way of the blade, grabbed Marie’s wrist, and, with a vicious twist, left her stepmother with no choice but to drop the knife.

She slammed the heel of her hand into the woman’s nose and, while Marie was spewing forth both blood and curses, swept her feet out from under her and left Marie sprawled on the ground.

Ali snatched up the knife and had Marie on her belly, her hand in Marie’s hair, and Marie’s throat bared to the blade all before Marie could damn her soul to hell.

Which Marie did all the same, of course.

“Well,” Ali said, her chest heaving a bit, “I don’t believe I’d fancy a visit there, especially since that’ll likely be your new home. Now, do I slay you here, or leave you to my father’s justice?”

“Your sire will never believe I killed your mother,” Marie said, with admirable bluster given the circumstances.

“He will.”

“We know you lie. He’ll believe the same of Berkhamshire.”

“We’ll find proof.”

“There were no witnesses. She was laboring with your younger brother. I killed them both whilst the women went to heat water.”

Ali tightened her hand in Marie’s hair. “I should kill you,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “I would be justified.”

“Do, and your father will hang you,” Marie said defiantly.

A throat cleared itself from the doorway. Ali looked over to find her father standing next to Colin. His face was ashen, but he stood firmly on his feet.

Marie must have seen the same thing, for she did her best to slit her own throat on the dagger.

Ali tossed the knife away, then looked about her for something to bind Marie’s hands with.

She found a belt dangled before her and took it, not sparing Colin a glance.

She wondered if he might regret its loss later, when he was about pursuing his own revenge upon her sorry self, but she shoved that thought aside.

She had enough to think on with trying to bind her stepmother’s wrists behind her before the woman escaped.

It was done, not quickly, nor easily, but done. Ali jumped off Marie’s still-bucking form, then stepped back and watched as her stepmother rolled over and gave her a look of such malice that she backed up another several paces.

The blood flowed freely down Marie’s face. “I’ll kill you for this,” she vowed, spitting blood onto the floor.

“You could try,” Ali said, taking a deep breath. “But I doubt you would succeed.”

Marie smiled, and the sight of that was enough to make Ali think that facing Colin might be a blessing. Mayhap he would do her in before Marie could escape and do the deed herself. She suspected Marie’s revenge would be much more painful.

“Don’t fear, my girl,” Denis said. “She won’t touch you.”

Ali looked at her father, then suddenly found herself in his arms. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him tightly. There was too much to say and no time for it. She allowed herself to enjoy a moment or two of complete comfort before she pulled away.

“Well met, Father,” she said, managing a bit of a smile.

He brushed his hand over her hair. “Ah, Aliénore,” he said, shaking his head. “I have much to say to you, daughter.”

“I long to hear it.”

“Let me finish this tale,” he said, “then we’ll talk.”

She nodded, then stepped away from him.

Unfortunately, that meant that she now had to look at Colin, which she did with a great lack of enthusiasm. His expression, damn him, was inscrutable.

“I suppose,” she said heavily, “that you and I have business to finish as well.”

“I daresay,” he said.

Was that dryness in his tone? Humor? Or the musings of a man who contemplated just how long and thoroughly he must needs humiliate his errant betrothed before he put her in either a convent or a grave?

Though she had to admit the convent was sounding less attractive by the heartbeat. She very much suspected that a life of prayer, while it certainly might be suitable for others, was not for her.

Not enough intrigue.

Ali walked away before she could contemplate that further. She heard heavy footsteps behind her, so she knew her doom followed, but she tried not to let that trouble her. Her last few minutes of freedom should certainly be spent where she might breathe fresh air.

Mayhap Colin would put her in a dungeon of his own making where he could torment her at his pleasure.

Scraps of food now and then, perhaps. Foul water.

Vermin dropped on her head. Poorly sung melodies chanted at her from dusk till dawn.

Truly, the possibilities were unpleasant, and vast, so perhaps it didn’t serve her to think overmuch on them.

She came to herself to realize she was on the battlements, on the wall overlooking the ocean. She hadn’t enjoyed the view much when she’d lived there, though she had often escaped to the roof to escape Marie.

Colin, however, had not followed her out to share the view.

She could see him, though, a darker bit of shadow in the dark shadows of the doorway leading down into the stairwell that led down to the passageway.

That gave her pause. She vaguely remembered his having said something about not liking heights.

Imagine. Colin of Berkhamshire having a weakness.

She sighed. “You may shout at me now, if you wish.”

“For what?” came the response from safely inside the doorway. That response was accompanied by a mighty snort. “For masquerading as a knight? For leading me on a merry chase across England and France? For bringing me up to this accursed place where I will no doubt fall to my death within moments?”

She considered. He didn’t sound overly annoyed. She’d certainly heard him bellow before, and there were no bellows coming from the shadows. Complaints, aye, but no shouts of fury.

“I don’t think you’ll fall,” she offered.

Another hearty snort proceeded forth from the gloom.

Well, what to do now? She supposed the courageous thing to do would have been to bravely face whatever tortures he had in mind for her.

But having so narrowly escaped death at Marie’s hands, it seemed a shame to suffer that fate at Colin’s.

Especially when he apparently had no intentions of following her out onto the parapet.

How long could a body remain out there?

Food could be brought, true. Relieving herself would be a problem, but she’d faced like obstacles before and triumphed.

Well, if Colin expected her to simply walk off the roof and into his vile clutches where he could do her in, he would be surprised at how difficult that would be.

“I think,” she announced, “that I could be quite happy here on the roof for some time.”

“Daft wench,” he grumbled. “You can’t stay up here forever.”

“I could.”

“You’ll catch your death. Now, show some of those fine, manly traits I’ve admired in you for some time and get your bloody self down to where most rational men pass their time.”

“I’m not a man,” she said archly.

“I knew that almost from the start.”

She turned toward the doorway. “You did not.”

“All right,” he conceded, “I knew what you were on the ship to France. I only realized who you were at supper last night.”