Free shadow and lace by Teresa Medeiros

if he had."
    Gareth bared his white teeth in a smile. "Pray do not crack my skull for asking. You are of an age to marry. 'Twas an honest enough question." He pried the braid from her hand and began to gently undo the damage she had done.
    Rowena sniffed, disowning her braid as if it belonged to someone else. " 'Twas an honest enough question coming from you. Perhaps my kin have the moral fortitude your friends lack."
    "Trust me, my dear. Moral fortitude does not run rampant in your family."
    "I suppose it does in yours? Along with dicing, leaping out of trees at people, and abduction." She glared at the forest, waiting for him to cuff her out the window for her insolence. Fortified by indignation, she drew in a deep breath and announced, "I am experiencing some confusion as to my purpose at Caerleon."
    Gareth finished the braid and let it swing against her throat. His teasing tone mocked her anger. "We cannot stand for that, can we? I assume everyone had a purpose at Revelwood."
    "Of course," she replied, as if the thought of anyone not having a purpose was ludicrous to her. "I hunt. Little Freddie cooks and weaves. Big Freddie and the boys tend the crops. And Papa…" She fell silent with a puzzled frown.
    Gareth's smile was bitter. "Papa squanders away his only daughter to a lecherous nobleman."
    "Which returns us to the subject of my purpose here." Her bright blue eyes studied his face. "Am I to be your whore, milord?"
    Gareth cleared his throat. He was a man accustomed to wasting a thousand words to arrive at one lucid point in his banter with women. Rowena's forthright-ness disarmed him.
    He crossed to the leather gauntlets on the table and began to work a leather thong from its lacings.
    She stumbled on, " Tis just that I know more of hunting than whoring. I fear I should be a great disappointment to you."
    Gareth bit his tongue as he snapped the thong in two with his teeth. He returned to wrap the ends of Rowena's braids, all laziness banished from his precise motions.
    "It might amaze you, my dear, to realize there are an abundance of purposeless ladies—and noblemen—in this world."
    It was a feeble comfort and not the answer she deserved, but it was all he could give her. Rowena lowered her eyes before he could read the doubt in them. His fingers tightened for an instant on a silky wisp of her hair.
    He was still holding her braid when the door crashed open and Marlys burst into the chamber. "I heard no grunts, moans, or screams so I assumed it was safe to enter." Gareth dropped the braid. Marlys took in the motion with a bitter smile. "How sweet! Is he dressing you? As his squire, I thought 'twas your duty to dress him. Or does he prefer you to undress him?"
    "A good morn to you, Marlys." Gareth rose from the window.
    Marlys was unarmored and unarmed except for a dirk crammed in her belt. Her black tunic and breeches hung in disheveled folds as if she had slept in them. From the awkward patching, Rowena realized the garments must have once belonged to Gareth. Cracked leather gauntlets covered her arms to the elbows, incongruous against the radiant sunlight breaking through the fog to stream over the windowsill. Her hair hung in ratty hanks over her face.
    She prowled the chamber like a hungry bear. She picked up Gareth's dagger, feinted twice at the air, then threw it down. Her foot scattered the furs beside the bed. "A bed for your new puppy, brother? A warm pelt and some scraps from your table and I'll wager she'll be at your feet like a bitch in heat, just begging to lap your—"
    "Marlys," Gareth warned.
    Marlys stepped up to Rowena. The corner of a naughty grin peeped out from behind her hair. "May we pat its pretty little head?"
    Before Marlys could move, Rowena's hand shot out and grasped her wrist. A glimmer of doubt touched Marlys's eye. Rowena pulled Marlys's hand down between them before loosing it.
    Marlys massaged her wrist under the gauntlet with a wounded pout. "Beware, brother. Your puppy has