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The next thing Ali knew, she was falling to her knees and there was a blinding agony in her face.

She realized, as blood dripped from her nose, that Marie had slammed her face into the rock and let her fall.

Ali could scarce see for the waves of pain that washed over her.

She dragged her sleeve across her eyes to clear them of her tears, then watched as Marie advanced toward Colin.

His hands, both of them, were clutching the rock before him.

Damn the man, he truly intended to allow Marie to have him in Ali’s place.

She staggered to her feet, drew the dagger from her boot, and flung herself at her stepmother. It was a precarious place to be, the battlements, with the wall on her left only waist-high and a goodly drop on her right down to the roof of the great hall. Either way, a fall would be fatal.

So she drove her knife into Marie’s back, then shoved her as hard as she could over the wall and down into the bailey.

Marie fell with a scream.

Ali threw herself at her husband, realizing too late that it was a very, very foolish thing to do.

He teetered.

Then he fell.

Back onto the walkway, fortunately, but it was a very undignified sprawl and one that came close to sending him off the roof to the right, down to grace the top of the great hall.

“By the saints,” he wheezed, “do you intend to kill me as well?”

She fell to her knees and grasped him by the feet. “I didn’t mean to, of course, you great oaf. Here, give me your hand and let me help you.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I’ll crawl, thank you just the same. Can you follow, or do you need aid?”

“Not aid from you, obviously. Go on. I’ll be behind you.”

And so he crawled. Ali was feeling none too steady on her own feet, so she inched along behind him as well, making herself something of a vow to never again loiter at such a height with the man she loved.

Which meant that she likely shouldn’t venture there overmuch herself, lest he felt the need to follow and perform another rescue.

Though given the fact that her stepmother was likely quite dead on the ground, perhaps there would never be another need for a rescue.

Colin pulled her to her feet when she reached the guard tower, then hauled her into his arms.

“She broke your nose, damn her,” he said with a curse. “Did she stick you as well?”

“Not deeply,” Ali said. “I’m not worried for myself. The babe, however—”

Then she realized what she’d blurted out. She looked quickly up at him to see that he had paled several shades beyond the normal paling he did when faced with such heights.

He teetered.

He swayed.

And then he fainted.

But it was gracefully done, she had to admit, as she made no attempt to stop him from swooning right onto the landing. He lay there, a large, formidable man who had been felled by the thought of the smallest, most helpless thing imaginable.

She smiled and sat down next to him to wait for him to awake.

His dagger was handy, so she cut up part of her gown and wrapped it around her middle to tighten up Marie’s knife’s work, then she cut up a bit more and held it gingerly to her nose.

She supposed he would have to wiggle it about again, just as he had before, and that was something definitely she was not looking forward to.

She supposed now her face would lose most of its beauty.

Her nose would likely bear the same little crook that Colin’s did.

But his was attractive enough, she supposed, for a man who truly had no handsomeness.

But he had such a fine character.

And, she had to admit, that there were times she found him quite easy to look at.

Such as now, when he was lying there, stunned by tidings she should have given him next to something softer than a stone floor.

She waited several minutes until he roused, sat up with a start, and looked at her with wide eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, looking around him frantically. “Where are the lads who attacked me? An army it must have been, surely.”

“You fainted.”

“I did not,” he said stiffly. “I was assailed from behind.”

“You were assailed by tidings of your child.”

He swayed again, but she caught him by the arm.

“A babe,” he said faintly.

“Aye.”

He looked at her, then gently put his arms around her and bowed his head to rest it on her shoulder.

“I don’t know what terrifies me more,” he whispered. “That she almost killed you, or that I did nothing to save you.”

“You distracted her,” she said, patting his back. “Colin, you bested your greatest fear to come fight her, without weapons in your hands. Surely there is no shame in that.”

He shuddered, once, then lifted his head. “Your face must pain you.”

“What pains me is my vanity,” she said, wincing at the clamor a smile set up on her visage.

“And I did not faint,” he continued.

“You did.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Colin, no one attacked you from behind.”

“Worry over you then,” he conceded. “My great love for you was such that I was overcome by emotion—nay, that sounds as daft as fainting.” He considered for a moment, then looked at her.

“’Twas the unwholesome air up here. Being so close to the clouds cannot be good for a body.

Mine is the sort of form that functions best on the ground.

” He frowned. “Nay, that makes me sound weak as well—”

She put her hand gently over his mouth. “I won’t tell anyone that the announcement that you are to become a father was what bested you.”

He kissed her palm, then moved her hand away. Then he hesitated. “You won’t?”

“No one would believe it anyway.”

“True,” he agreed. “No sense in having anyone believe you’ve lost your wits.”

“Thank you for preserving my dignity,” she said dryly.

“’Tis the very least I can do,” he said, dragging himself to his feet and gently pulling her to hers. “Now, come away with me, lady, and let us see to your wounds. We should have kept those potion brewers here instead of letting them return to Blackmour. They might have served us.”

“Don’t you know any of their recipes?”

“Me?” he demanded, affronted. “I learned no black arts at their hands. But they did give me a batch of herbs for staunching manly wounds. I suppose that would suffice for yours as well.”

“A pity Marie couldn’t have waited another pair of months to come do her foul work. Your healers would have been here then. Berengaria said they would return after the harvest.”

Colin stared at her in astonishment. “Why? Why would they come to torment me in my own home?”

“They’re coming in their guise as midwives,” she said pleasantly. “Berengaria told me when I would need her.”

He started to say something, then shut his mouth with a snap and turned to descend the stairs, pulling her after him.

“I imagine they’re quite skilled,” she offered.

“Perhaps Nemain will stay behind,” he grumbled. “I could only hope her romance with Blackmour’s cook will be such that a visit here would be unthinkable.”

Ali smiled as she followed him down the steps and on to their bedchamber.

She stopped smiling when he set her nose. It was every bit as painful as it had been the time before.

After she’d stopped howling, Colin turned his tender attentions to her side. She winced at the look on his face as he examined her side. The gravity there was sobering.

“Bad?” she asked.

He shook his head, then looked at her. “Could have been, though. It isn’t deep, and needs no stitching, but we’ll have to watch it closely lest infection sets in. And with the ... um ...”

“Babe,” she supplied. “Your babe.”

He swallowed with difficulty. “Aye, that. I’ll watch you closely for a few days.” He wrapped a cloth about her side, then picked her up and carried her to the bed. “You should rest.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Only to bellow for someone to go and make sure she’s dead. I won’t leave the chamber.”

She shivered. “ ’Tis foolish to fear, but—”

“Fear keeps you alive,” he said simply. “A courageous man isn’t one who feels no fear. A courageous man is one who acts in spite of it. As you did above.”

“She was going to kill you.”

He smiled briefly. “Now you know what motivates me,” he said. “I pity anyone who thinks to harm you. Or the ... um—”

“Babe, Colin. ’Tis but a babe.”

He looked at her with something that greatly resembled awe. “But,” he said in hushed tones, “ ’Tis my babe. Something I never thought to be blessed with.”

“Congratulations, then,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’ll make a fine father.”

“Should I survive the birth, aye,” he said weakly. “By the saints, the birth—”

“Don’t think about it,” she commanded, clapping her hand over his mouth. “I can’t catch you now.”

He reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head. “I daresay you didn’t catch me on the roof, either.”

“You’re a large man. I did all I could.”

“Which was no doubt to let me fall unimpeded.” He pursed his lips at her, then rose. “Don’t move. I will return to your side within moments.”

Ali watched him walk unsteadily from the bedchamber, then smiled. She had to blink quite often, mostly because her eyes continued to fill with tears that had more to do with pain than anything else.

Or perhaps that wasn’t as true as she would have liked. She was alive, the saints be praised. The fear of having come so close to losing her life would likely haunt her for some time to come.

But hard on those tears came ones that had nothing to do with pain.

Who would have thought that she would find herself so happily wed—and to the very man she’d been certain would be the ruin of her life?

But instead, there she was, wed to a man who, as Gillian had once said, had a very tender heart under all his grumbles, a tender heart that he showed her often enough to convince her it was there.

And if that wasn’t enough in itself, she would bear him a child come spring.

Now, if he could just survive that long without tarnishing his reputation further by these unmanly displays of emotion and weakness ...

She smiled and closed her eyes.