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Madeline groaned as his thrusting caused her pleasure-pain. “He… he is sending out patrols again,” she reiterated, grunting. “He… is teaching our men to fight the way the Scots fight. If… if you have Scots mercenaries among your men, then they should know this.”

“I will tell them,” he said as he thrust, feeling his climax coming and slapping her buttocks again. “Are there plans for the English to leave the castle?”

“There… there are no plans of leaving that I know of.”

“Then the English are staying?”

“Aye.”

“When do the first patrols leave?”

“I do not know… tomorrow, mayhap. Soon.”

He withdrew from her woman’s core and, using the moisture from her own body, slicked up her second maidenhead, her anus, and pushed into her.

Madeline bit her hand to keep from crying out as he continued to make love to her in a most unnatural way.

But it was something Evon liked and, being in love with the man since childhood, she permitted it no matter how much it pained her.

She belonged to him and always had. It was a dream they had, to rule Four Crosses together.

Madeline was doing all she could to ensure that dream came true.

Evon gave one hard, final thrust and released himself into her body, into the orifice where it was guaranteed no children could be born.

He didn’t need a bastard from a half-Welsh wench, but what he did need was information for Madog’s rebellion.

His father, Lord Preece, wasn’t part of the rebellion sweeping the country, the dying throes of the last Welsh prince, but Evon was part of that movement and he used Madeline de Llion to gain his information.

Madeline thought it was because he loved her, but the truth was that he was simply using her.

He’d tell her everything she wanted to hear simply to make sure she told him everything that was happening at Four Crosses.

Madog’s men wanted the fortress very badly and Evon was helping in any way he could.

It made him an important man in Madog’s ranks.

He had his own spy within Four Crosses.

So he hugged Madeline and told her how much he was looking forward to their future together, lying through his teeth as he said it.

He questioned her more about the patrols, about the Scotsman they called The Red Lion, and about anything else he could think of that might help his cause.

The damage to the walls was being repaired and the army was now reinforced by English troops.

That wasn’t good news and it was something Madog’s men needed to know.

Evon had to rush back to his rebel force but he made sure to elicit a promise from Madeline that she would meet him again tomorrow after the nooning meal, here in their thicket, with more information on what was transpiring at Four Crosses.

Now, with the addition of three English knights and their Scottish commander, the situation had changed markedly.

Now, the conquest of Four Crosses might be in jeopardy.

*

Nights like this reminded Jamison of nights on the Highland moors, dark and foggy and wet. The only difference for him was that at his home, one could smell the sea. He couldn’t smell it here and he missed it. All he could see were land and rocks and winter-dead hills, as far as the eye could see.

After a long day of training troops on Scots tactics, Jamison had the night watch.

He wasn’t particularly tired so he relieved Tobias and Thad of the wall and planted himself up by the gatehouse with a big bowl of steaming broth.

It was bone broth, from boiled sheep bones, cooked with onions and turnips and carrots and highly seasoned with salt and precious peppercorns.

The de Lohr army had brought the salt and pepper with them, and the cook at Four Crosses seemed to have a talent for cooking.

So Jamison leaned against the parapet of the gatehouse as the fog settled and the sun set, drinking his bowl of hot broth and feeling warmth in his belly.

He remembered thinking during battle that he might never be warm again so the hot soup was comforting.

But he was still cold and damp in spite of the warm broth. He was in layers of wool, his hands with heavy leather gloves on, and he was chilled. Nights like this drove the cold down to a man’s very bones and the only thing he could do was to move around to try to chase the chill away.

Nights like this were also very dangerous.

Without the ability to see to the horizon, an entire army could sneak up to the castle using the mist as cover and no one would know until the army was upon them, so vigilance was the order of the moment.

Jamison began walking the fighting platform, the one that had been repaired in the past few days, encouraging the men on watch to be heedful.

This could very well be the night that the Welsh returned.

The men were on edge with the fog, straining to see through it.

Torches burned brightly and more were lit, lining the walls to keep away the night.

Jamison continued to wander the wall walk, which happened to go most of the way around the castle.

It was quite an architectural feat, in truth, because of the size of the walls.

But it was quite necessary to keep watch over the countryside surrounding the castle.

Jamison moved past the gatehouse, keeping his attention on the fog outside of the walls but finding his thoughts turning to Havilland.

Havilland. Even thinking her name made him smile.

In truth, he’d thought about her all day, ever since their conversation in the great hall.

He liked the way she laughed and her smile…

well, the woman’s smile made his heart thump as it had never thumped before.

Bringing up the subject of marriage with her had been impetuous and quite possibly reckless, but it had seemed the most natural of things to do.

He had jested about it when he realized, in hindsight, he hadn’t been jesting at all.

But he wanted her to think that he was. He fully expected her to reject any suggestion of marriage and if she thought he was jesting, perhaps he wouldn’t look like such a fool.

But he was quite certain her refusal would disappoint him greatly.

It might even break his heart.

He had to smile to himself, thinking that he was capable of having a broken heart from a woman he’d only known a few days.

But he didn’t have to know Havilland more than a few days to know that she was special.

She had an innocence about her that was hard to define, yet it was vastly attractive.

And she had bravery and intelligence that was unmatched. That was a rare thing, indeed.

As he moved past the gatehouse, his gaze fell on Tobias standing along the parapet, speaking to one of the senior de Lohr sergeants.

Thoughts of Havilland and Tobias didn’t mix because it brought a recollection of what Brend had said earlier in the day– Tobias has already expressed interest in Havilland .

Gazing at Tobias, a man he genuinely liked, Jamison could feel himself becoming territorial.

He didn’t want any of the de Lohr brothers lusting after a woman he was attracted to, least of all Tobias.

He didn’t need or want the competition. He briefly considered throwing Tobias over the wall and then telling everyone it was an accident, but that wouldn’t work out well in his favor because there were witnesses.

Too many of them. He wasn’t sure he could throw that many de Lohr men over the wall, too, in order to silence them, so he put the thought of murdering Tobias out of his mind. At least, for the moment.

Tobias, oblivious to Jamison’s dangerous thoughts, smiled when he saw Jamison approach. “Jamie,” he greeted. “It is nearly time to change the guards to the night watch. The gatehouse has double the capacity of sentries, as you ordered.”

Jamison nodded to the efficient knight. “And the postern gate?”

Tobias glanced over his shoulder. “There are Four Crosses men guarding it,” he said. “I would not worry. I checked the gate myself a short time ago and it is quite secure.”

Jamison grunted. “It is still an entry point should the Welsh decide tae descend upon us this night,” he said, looking around at the fog. “Nights like this make me nervous.”

Tobias couldn’t disagree with him. He, too, looked out to the fog beyond the walls. “It is hard to believe there is an entire land out there, now buried in mist.”

“An entire land that could be crawling with Welsh.”

Tobias lifted his eyebrows in resignation. “There is naught we can do about it tonight,” he said. “We have three patrols scheduled for the morning, each patrol manned by at least one Four Crosses man who is familiar with the area. Let us see what the patrols have to say when they return tomorrow.”

Jamison knew that was the truth; there wasn’t much more they could do. He turned to continue his walk, slapping Tobias on the shoulder as he went.

“But we still must make it through the night,” he said. “Stay vigilant, Tobias. Yer keen eyes may save us.”

Tobias took the request seriously. Jamison continued down the wall, his thoughts on the coming night and not Havilland for the moment, but that changed when he saw Havilland’s sister, Madeline, in the bailey below.

She was heavily dressed against the night, carrying a torch with her as she crossed from the keep into the kitchen yard.

Jamison was heading in much the same direction and kept pace with her as she moved.

It was curious to watch the woman move because she acted like she was being hunted.

She moved swiftly and kept looking around her as if either searching for something or someone.

Jamison thought it all rather odd but, then again, Madeline was an odd one to begin with so perhaps it was nothing new with her.

Perhaps, that was simply the way she always moved.