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C olin paced up and down the passageway in front of his chamber, feeling no less nervous than he had since he’d come to Solonge.

But it had nothing to do with Marie, who was apparently safely ensconced in the dungeon with Sir Etienne, nor with Lord Denis, who had come along already that morning and asked him what his intentions were, nor with the tidings that all five of Aliénore’s brothers were below waiting to see her.

He supposed that the brother she’d filched her gear from would be first in line, wanting his gear back.

He wondered why it was that her brothers had chosen now to make an appearance.

He hadn’t seen any of them before, not even at meals, nor in the lists.

Perhaps they had been too terrified of him to show themselves.

Odd, that they should choose now to reveal themselves.

Perhaps they considered Aliénore’s rejecting him as sport enough for their morning repast.

He pursed his lips. His unease had nothing to do with any of that, though those things certainly gave him pause. His true nervousness lay with the fact that his bride was still asleep and it was at least a few moments past dawn.

Did she intend to sleep the day away? Or was she so disgusted by the thought of finally being forced to wed with him that she didn’t dare leave the chamber?

Had he not given her ample opportunity the night before to express such disgust as he stood trembling inside that doorway?

Trembling from the height of it off the ground, of course, not from any fear that she might reject him outright.

Hadn’t he tried to put her mind at ease and give her the benefit of sleep before she made any decisions concerning him?

In truth, what more could a wench have asked of him?

She, at least, had slept well. He’d slept little, if at all. He’d finally given up and risen well before sunrise, noting by the very faint starlight that illuminated the chamber that she smiled as she slept. Dreaming likely.

He could only hope it wasn’t about Jason of Artane or his other quite marriageable brother, Kendrick.

He had retreated out into the passageway and tried to make himself presentable with a goodly brushing of his tunic with the edge of his knife, a straightening of his hair with his own quite useful fingers, and a goodly amount of wishing that he dared take time for a bit of whisker removal from his cheeks.

Unfortunately, that would have meant seeking out a bowl of water in the kitchen, and he couldn’t leave his post.

So he had contented himself with what he could do outside Aliénore’s door, then had taken to waiting.

And waiting.

Someone had brought him something with which to break his fast. He wasn’t sure what it had been and he could only hope it hadn’t been poisoned, though perhaps poison was a kinder wound to his heart than having Aliénore wake, look at him, and flee screaming into her father’s arms and beg for a release from her contract.

Colin had, unfortunately, seen that done before.

Hark, was that rustling inside? He put his ear to the door and heard a bit of movement. Or perhaps that was his own poor blood pounding in his ears. Nay, that was definitely movement and a soft curse.

Cursing. How did that bode for him?

The door began to open and he leaped back to lean against the opposite wall. He tried to assume a casual pose as well, though he suspected the sick expression on his visage ruined the effect.

Aliénore appeared in the doorway, looking as fresh and rested as if she’d just passed an entire month lazing abed.

Colin scowled at her, just on principle.

She’d apparently donned her other tunic, for this one had no rent in the front. But she still wore hose and her scuffed boots with the dagger in the right. Her sword, however, was not belted about her waist.

“Where is your sword?” he asked, frowning.

She shrugged in a somewhat helpless manner. “It seemed ... well, it seemed ... foolish.”

“Why?”

She sighed deeply. “Because there is no more need of ruse.”

He supposed she had it aright. Now that she knew that he knew who she was, what was the purpose in pretending to be other than she was?

He wondered, absently, what she would look like in a gown.

She ran her hand over her hair, looking uncomfortable. “What now?” she asked.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Could she truly not bear to look at him?

Or was she trying to tell him that she simply could not bear the thought of wedding with him?

Well, if there was something he wasn’t, it was a coward.

He would just put forth his questions and see what her answers were, then see where that left him.

He put his shoulders back and cleared his throat.

“Perhaps—”

“Ah, there you are! I wondered when you would awake!”

Colin looked to his right and glared at the lord of Solonge, who was hurrying down the passageway. He enveloped his daughter in a large hug, rocking her, peppering her with compliments and questions alike, and generally doing all the things Colin wished he were doing at the moment.

Damn the man.

“Come,” Denis said, keeping Aliénore under one arm and taking Colin in hand with the other, “let us descend and break our fast. Aliénore, your brothers are quite anxious to see you.”

Colin heard a faint snort and peered around Lord Denis to find that Aliénore was wearing a look of profound skepticism. Well, that was something. Perhaps the greeting of her brothers would take less time than he feared, and then they could be about their business of being about their business.

Which he sincerely hoped included a wedding in the near future.

The morning was interminable. Colin found himself shoved to the side in the press of family, friends, and servants who miraculously appeared to shower Aliénore with attention.

Colin thought she looked decidedly uncomfortable, but he didn’t feel like he could suggest that she flee her relations.

After all, they had two years of questions for her.

Never mind that he had the same number of questions covering the same period of time.

And never mind that he was her betrothed. He supposed he could wait.

But after several hours and a goodly amount of food that was substantially better than what he’d had in the previous two days, he found the waiting becoming quite intolerable.

He rose, but no one paid him any heed. With a sigh, he left the hall and made his way out to the lists.

There were a few guardsmen milling about and he tried to engage each one in turn, but without success.

Most of them seemed to be recovering from their exercise with him the day before.

Discouraged, and unaccustomedly so, he finally retired to a little stone bench and sat with his head bowed, staring at the mud between his boots.

Perhaps he was doomed to live the life of a great warrior.

Unwed.

Unchallenged by those lesser men about him.

He sighed a sigh that felt as if it had come straight from the soles of his boots. Ah, by the saints, life could be a burden at times.

He looked down and found his boots quite suddenly to be cast into shadow. He didn’t bother to look up.

“If I bested you yesterday, I’ll best you again today,” he said wearily. “Perhaps you want to rethink your invitation.”

“Actually,” said a voice sounding nothing like any guardsman he’d ever heard, “I don’t have much to rethink.”

Colin looked up in surprise. Aliénore stood there with her hands clasped behind her back, her sword at her side.

Indeed, she looked so much as she’d always looked before they began to work in the lists that he had to take a moment and convince himself that the past few settings and risings of the sun had actually happened, along with their accompanying revelations.

“You’re here,” he said blankly.

“I escaped,” she said, with a small smile.

“You escaped?” he echoed.

“Aye. Quite a tedious bunch inside.”

He stared at her and couldn’t believe she had sought him out. “But your family—”

“All my brothers wanted were tales of you. I thought you’d do more justice to your escapades than I could, so I promised them your full attention later. Besides, Francois was beginning to look at me suspiciously, so I thought I should make my exit whilst I could.”

“Very wise.”

She nodded with a smile, then suddenly her smile faltered and she looked away.

“I brought my sword,” she said quietly. “Just in case—”

Well, it wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was something. Colin rose without hesitation.

“Of course,” he said. “Let us work. You’ll not want to lose your skills.”

“Should I need to defend myself,” she muttered.

He looked at her with one eyebrow raised, but said nothing. She obviously had something to say, but perhaps it would take a bit of swordplay to pry it from her. He was, after all, a very patient man. He could wait for her to spew out what troubled her.

He sincerely hoped it wasn’t that she didn’t want him.

Though why she would, perhaps, should have been a mystery to him.

She drew her sword and he followed suit. And when she did nothing else, offered no offense, he took up the cause and mounted a very gentle, very easily defended attack. She countered each stroke just as he’d taught her, with skill and precision.

And, apparently, growing irritation.

Finally, she dropped her sword and glared at him. “Well?” she demanded.

“What?” he asked in surprise.

“If you’re going to do me in, will you please just be about the bloody business and be finished with it!”

He blinked. “Do you in?”

“Slay me!” She ground her teeth in frustration. “You vowed you would. I’ve given you ample opportunity in the past half hour. Why do you delay?”

He put his sword down in front of him and rested both hands on the hilt. “I don’t want to slay you.”

“You vowed you did.”

He shrugged. “That was before. I spoke it in anger.”

“You could have said as much,” she snapped.

“To whom?” he asked. “To the lad Henri?”

“To anyone who would have listened.”