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“I was so sorry to hear about Sir Frioc. I never met him, but he sounds a most genial sort of fellow, and the fact that Lord Merrick approved of him says much about his character. And I’m very sorry if I caused Sir Ranulf, or you, Myghal, or you other men any alarm.

I assure you, I didn’t mean to. I rode away from my party because I simply couldn’t bear my maidservant’s complaints another moment.

You’d think I was dragging her on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

She ought to be quite comfortable in the cart on the veritable mound of cushions I prepared for her, and warm with all the blankets and shawls, as cozy as Cleopatra on her barge.

But no, Maloren must moan and groan until I thought I’d go mad.

So I said to Aeden, the sergeant-at-arms, that I was going to let Holly have a good gallop over the open moor.

You haven’t met Maloren or I dare say you’d understand.

I love her dearly, but she can be most exasperating. ”

In spite of her heartfelt explanation, Ranulf looked more than a little exasperated himself. “My lady, I regret I must interrupt this charming justification for your astonishing behavior. However, these men have work to do.”

Beatrice blushed and smiled again. “Of course they do. Please, don’t let me detain you.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, my lady,” Myghal murmured as he tugged his forelock before he turned his horse and led the patrol toward the shore.

Ranulf watched his men leave, and as he did, he tried not to grind his teeth or otherwise betray his annoyance. But what the devil was Merrick thinking, bringing Beatrice along with him and then letting her get so far from their cortege?

Likely that was as she said: she’d ridden ahead of the guards Merrick had assigned to her—although why wasn’t Merrick himself watching her? Surely as her guardian, he should be taking more care…unless he was as tired of her cheerful chatter as she’d been of Maloren’s complaints.

Even so, that wouldn’t explain why Merrick had brought her to Penterwell in the first place, especially when there was the mystery of Gawan’s murder to solve.

She could be of no help there, and they certainly didn’t need the distraction of Bea’s bubbly, inquisitive presence when they were trying to find answers from the recalcitrant villagers.

Perhaps she was bothering Constance too much. The lady of Tregellas must still be weak from the effort of childbirth, and he could understand that she might find Bea wearying.

As for the reaction of Myghal and his men, he shouldn’t be the least surprised by the attention Bea attracted.

She was a beautiful young woman, even more beautiful and graceful and charming than her cousin, and certainly more vivacious.

Myghal was a young, unmarried man—a young, unmarried commoner who should harbor no hopes of anything from Bea save a polite smile, no matter how friendly she was.

She was friendly to everyone, rich and poor alike.

A smile from her didn’t necessarily mean anything significant—

“I really am sorry for causing any distress to you or your men,” Bea said. “You know Maloren, though. I thought I’d go mad if I had to listen to her for the rest of the journey.”

She smiled apologetically, looking up at Ranulf with the innocence of a novice while he, jaded reprobate as he was, tried not to notice that her buttercup- yellow woolen gown seemed molded to her body beneath her wode-blue cloak.

Or to feel like a heartless rogue for leaving Tregellas without bidding her farewell, even though he’d been the worse for overimbibing.

He’d also been afraid he might slip and say something that would reveal his foolish longing.

“You came riding to my rescue just like Lancelot,” she said with another glowing smile.

God help him, why did she have to look at him like that? Why couldn’t he stay angry with her? Then he might be able to ignore his wayward desire.

“I saw a woman riding as if her life was in danger, so naturally I came to her aid,” he replied, doing his best to control his tumultuous emotions as he marched to her mare and grabbed the dangling reins.

“Naturally,” she said, following him like an eager puppy. “You are a most chivalrous knight.”

“Whether these lands are safe or not, it wasn’t wise to get so far ahead of your party. I’m surprised Merrick was so remiss.”

“Oh, but he wasn’t,” Beatrice hastened to reply. “Merrick had nothing to do with it.”

Ranulf made no secret of his confusion. “What do you mean? As leader of your party and your guardian—”

“He’s not. Well, he’s still my guardian,” she amended, “but Merrick isn’t with the cortege. He can’t leave Tregellas. Indeed, he can’t ride at all, or even walk because of what happened the night little Peder was born.”

Ranulf stared at her as if she’d just spoken in tongues. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Merrick merely sprained his ankle.”

“I know Merrick didn’t think he’d done anything serious, but the apothecary discovered that he’d broken his leg, so it’s a good thing Constance insisted on sending for someone more learned, isn’t it?

Fortunately, it’s a clean break, so it shouldn’t leave Merrick crippled, provided he stays off it for several more days, or so the apothecary says, and he seems a wise fellow, so I think we can take comfort in his opinion. ”

Ranulf felt the need to sit, but as there was no chair, bench or stool nearby, he didn’t. “Who is in charge of your party, then?”

She beamed a smile. “Well, I suppose I am, although Aeden’s in command of the soldiers, and I can hardly tell the masons what to do. That’s for you to decide.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ranulf muttered.

Bea’s smile died. “I wouldn’t lie about a thing like that. In fact, I don’t generally lie about anything, unless it’s how a gown looks or something equally unimportant.” She crossed her arms beneath her perfect breasts. “I must say I’m offended you would accuse me of making up a story like that.”

She certainly sounded offended, so what she’d said was almost certainly true. Merrick had broken his leg and wasn’t coming. But she had, and without a proper chaperone or escort, just some soldiers and two masons, all of considerably lower rank.

Had Merrick lost his mind? What, in the name of the saints, was Bea supposed to do at Penterwell, except aggravate and distract him?

And tempt you, too , a lustful little voice prompted in the back of his mind.

“That doesn’t explain why Merrick sent you here,” Ranulf said brusquely, his anger now partly directed at himself.

“Well, naturally when Merrick received your letter, he was concerned—and Constance, too— about the conditions at Penterwell. So was I, so I’ve come to oversee your household the way the masons will oversee the repairs to the walls.

It sounds as if you could use some assistance with the servants, at the very least. And I’ve brought food and wine, too. ”

Ranulf drew his broadsword and took a moment to calm himself by swinging it from side to side, as if decapitating the grass.

“I know the news about Merrick must come as a shock,” Bea went on, “but I thought you might be a little glad to see me.”

God save him from apologetic young women with the eyes of an angel and a body to tempt even saints to sin!

“Coming here without Merrick or any other relative was not wise and I’m surprised Merrick and Constance allowed it,” he said as he sheathed his sword.

Bea’s bright blue eyes sparkled with what looked remarkably like defiance.

“Surely you’re not telling me I need to be protected from you?

” she asked. “Are you implying you would forswear your oath of loyalty and friendship to my cousin’s husband and ravish me?

” She cocked her head to study him. “Or are you suggesting I’ll throw myself into your arms because you’re irresistible? ”

He tried to ignore the wondrous vision of Bea rushing into his open arms, then pressing her soft, shapely body against his as she lifted her sweet face for his kiss. “No, of course not,” he growled.

“Then why should I not come here when you need help, and the sort a woman can best provide?”

Had she no idea how that sounded? The notions it gave a man, especially a lonely one, and even if he didn’t think her the most beautiful, tempting woman he’d ever met? “Because other people will talk and make assumptions that could call your honor into question.”

She drew herself up to her full height, which was about even with his nose.

“I appreciate your concern for my reputation, Sir Ranulf, but I point out, I have little honor to lose. My father was a traitor, and executed.” Her eyes flashed with a stern determination that surprised him, for Bea was usually the most gentle and softhearted of women.

“If other people wish to see a sin where none exists, they are not worthy of my acquaintance.”

“How do you intend to get a husband if—?”

“If a man thinks me a loose woman, why would I care if he wants to marry me or not?” she demanded. “And surely if neither Constance or Merrick object to my coming here, you shouldn’t. They are legally obligated to protect me, not you.”

Exactly . “Which is why they never should have let you come here as you have.”

Her eyes grew cold, like blue ice, and her tone just as frosty. “Very well, Sir Ranulf,” she snapped, “as you see fit to question my guardians’ decision and wish to decline my assistance, I shall gladly return to Tregellas at once.”

He told himself he ought to be relieved.

And then a drop of rain fell upon his nose. Another fell on her cheek.