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A li walked along the little path, holding hands with her husband and smiling in pleasure at the beauty of the day.

She supposed she wouldn’t think it so beautiful in an hour when she was roasting in her mail, but for now, it was lovely and the afternoon full of goodly smells.

And given the fact that the only privacy she might have with her lord was out stomping about in the mud, she was willing to endure a bit of exercise to have it.

Colin squeezed her hand. “You’re smiling. Thinking on the romances blossoming behind us that we’re not being forced to witness at present?”

She shook her head and smiled up at him. “I’m just enjoying the day.”

“And the prospect of a little swordplay?” he prodded.

One thing she could say for the man: He was consistent in his habits. “I have acquired a taste for it, you know,” she said. “There is a certain peace about the discipline of practicing your skills.”

He stopped her, put his free hand on her shoulder, and kissed her quite vigorously on the mouth.

“You, my lady,” he said, beaming his approval on her, “are a wench without peer.”

There was no higher praise from him. “My lord, your compliments leave me breathless.”

“They likely should. Never given so many to anyone in my life.” He slung his arm around her and continued on.

“Who would have thought I would wed a woman who was handy with a blade? Not my sire, surely.” Then he looked at her sideways.

“But this is the question that begs an answer. Are you coming with me here because you want to, or because you’re humoring me? ”

“Does it matter?”

“It does.”

She walked with him in silence for a bit, then smiled. “I’d say, then, that ’Tis a bit of both. I also can’t argue that skill with a blade might serve me. Who knows that I may be left behind to defend the hall some day.”

“True enough.”

“Perhaps ’Tis best, then, that I don’t burn these hose. Unless you would prefer me in a gown?”

He looked so startled that she laughed.

“Colin, I can’t go about forever looking like a boy. What will people think?”

“Well, they’ll never believe I married a lad, what with your beauty.” He scratched his head. “I suppose you’ll have to garb yourself like a woman eventually. A damned nuisance, those skirts. Always dragging about in things they shouldn’t.”

“Be grateful you aren’t required to wear them.”

“I am, believe me,” he said, with feeling. “Ah, here we are. And look you, the industrious man has replanted.”

“This will cost you,” she warned.

“Well worth the expense. Come, lady, and let us see if so many hours spent pursuing our other passion has left you with no recollection of how to pursue this one.”

She followed him into the field, winced at the thought of trampling such fine-looking and tender plants, then forced herself to focus her energies on the task at hand. The cabbages would grow back. Her head wouldn’t, if Colin mistakenly took it off because she wasn’t paying attention.

And given the way the man was swinging his blade at her, he certainly didn’t seem to be holding the fact that she was his wife against her.

“You are in earnest about this,” she said, somewhat dumbfounded.

He blinked in surprise and paused in midswing. “Of course I am. Did you think I would pass all those hours driving skill into you only to have it wasted?”

“But that was then.”

“And this is now. And as you said, you may be the one guarding the castle now and then. Best you know how to defend yourself if I’m not there to do it for you.

Besides,” he said thoughtfully, “you’re becoming a fairly passable swordsman.

With enough time, you could likely take on a less skilled knight and do him in. ”

“Think you?” she asked, surprised.

“Well,” he said doubtfully, “perhaps a less skilled knight without mail who’d spent the night wenching and drinking himself into a stupor. But,” he added quickly, “those are often the most dangerous kind of men, for they’ve no head for chivalry or proper knightly conduct on the battlefield.”

She tipped her sword down, crossed over to him, and leaned up to kiss him softly.

“You needn’t fear bruising my feelings,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’ll learn what I can and hopefully it will serve me, but I won’t weep if I’m not your equal in swordplay.”

He looked so relieved that she put her arms around him and hugged him. She rested her head against his chest and marveled. That she should embrace him so easily showed how much she had grown to trust him.

Indeed, she couldn’t help but spare a wish that she’d wed him two years earlier when she’d had the chance.

She pulled back. “I don’t know that I’ve properly apologized for bolting on you,” she admitted.

“You did what you thought best. I can’t fault you for it, being well acquainted with my reputation myself.”

“I wasted these two years for the both of us.” She looked up at him seriously. “What if our lives are cut short? We’ll never have those two years back—”

“We won’t have them back,” he agreed, “and no one can guarantee how long life will last. But we can wring every drop of living from the days we do have together. Who knows, perhaps I can terrify Fate into giving us years upon years,” he said pleasantly.

“Otherwise, we’ll just have to make do. And you know, it grows a bit warm out here.

Mayhap we should seek out a bit of shade in the monk’s garden and—”

Ali would have agreed with him, but she didn’t have the chance.

As if the very hedge had sprouted souls and propelled them into the field, the little area where they stood was suddenly filled with men brandishing swords.

“Back to back!” Colin shouted.

Ali turned, her sword in her hand, and pressed herself up against Colin. She felt Colin swinging, hacking, thrusting, but she could do nothing more than hold her sword in front of her, point outward, and pray she didn’t have to use it.

“Aliénore, fight!”

“Aye, Aliénore, fight,” called a voice from her right. “Fight like a man.”

Ali looked to see Sir Etienne holding himself out of the fray. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, smiling in a most unpleasant manner. By the saints, what did the man want? Revenge?

It was then that she noticed something quite odd.

Men were standing nearby—as near as they apparently dared when facing her sword—but they made no move to fight her.

Well, except one who only missed decapitating her because Colin had bumped her elbow and her sword went up at the appropriate time and blocked his swing.

“Not her,” one of the men shouted. “Just him.”

“Aye,” said another, “we’d be just nabbing her. But don’t kill him either, else he won’t be able to give us his gold!”

Ali squeaked as she found herself quite suddenly grabbed by the neck of her tunic and dragged across the field.

It all happened so quickly and she was so paralyzed with fear that she could only breathe again once movement had stopped.

Colin, who had practically carried her over to the hedge and backed her into it, was standing in front of her, swinging with his usual joyful abandon.

“All right, whoresons,” he said, with a chortle of delight, “who’s next? Only eleven of you? A pity. I’d hoped for more.”

Ali spared time for a brief prayer, then put up her sword and pulled her dagger from her boot.

She wasn’t sure if she should continue to stare at Colin’s back, or turn herself around that she might counter an attack from behind the hedge.

A quick look around Colin’s large form revealed that Sir Etienne stood in his same place, looking smug.

His men, and she saw only three in Solonge’s colors, were apparently trying to decide if they should rush Colin as a group or come at him singly.

Ali could have advised them, but decided not to, for obvious reasons.

A group of three chose to come first. A thrust, a swipe, and a two-handed cleave sent those men speedily into the next life.

The remainder of the men huddled together and consulted.

“Should I run for aid?” Ali asked breathlessly.

Colin threw her a disgusted look over his shoulder, then bounced on the balls of his feet. “Only eight left,” he said dismissively. “Plus the arrogant fool there. Light exercise, beloved. Not to worry.”

Five mustered themselves together. Those, however, weren’t the ones who sent chills down Ali’s spine.

Colin could take them on easily. It was the remaining three who started for the gate in the hedge that concerned her.

Were they making for her? She contemplated her sword.

Perhaps with two blades she would not be such an easy mark.

Colin was obviously not oblivious to the feeble plotting going on around him. He threw himself into the fray with nothing more than a “Draw your blade, Aliénore,” tossed over his shoulder. She did, but found it exceedingly difficult to do anything but watch her husband.

And be very glad she’d never come at him with his death on her mind.

He had little trouble plying his trade on the five who faced him.

They fell into heaps, some missing limbs, some simply giving forth unwholesome screams of terror before they expired.

And through it all, Colin’s blade flashed in the sunlight in a way that seemed to stop not only her, but the remaining three lads in their tracks.

That was their mistake. Colin bounded over and engaged them before they managed to get through the gate.

Ali looked about her to see how Sir Etienne was taking the decimation of his little army.

Only to find him gone.

She whirled around and saw him clambering over the very prickly hedge directly behind her. She backed up, her blade in front of her, her dagger clutched in her hand.

“Colin, help!” she squeaked.

There was more screaming behind her, then three more quick, cut-off shouts.

And then silence.

She couldn’t have cared less. Sir Etienne was standing not five feet in front of her and he had already knocked her sword from her hands.

“Haven’t learned your lessons yet, have you?” he sneered.