there was no help for it. None at all. Slowly he said, not meeting her eyes, “Do you remember telling me that you dreamed of a man’s voice? A man you did not know?”
“Aye, I remember.”
“You did not dream him. There was such a man. He is an Englishman, Lord Graelam de Moreton. He accompanied me to Belleterre. You see, I was attacked in Aquitaine by brigands, and Lord Graelam saved my life, he and his men. He is an honorable man, Kassia, and a fine man, a warrior who was just returning from the Holy Land. I found myself telling him about that whoreson Geoffrey, and indeed, we stopped at Beaumanoir one evening. He met your aunt, and managed politely enough to avoid her bed. I will not deny that by the time we reached Belleterre, I was thinking of him as the perfect husband for you. I told him much about you. When we arrived, I was told that you were dying. Indeed, there was no doubt in my mind that you would not survive that night.”
Kassia was gazing at him with such innocent incomprehension that for a moment Maurice couldn’t continue. He coughed, raked his fingers through his hair, and mumbled something under his breath.
“Father,” Kassia said, “I do not understand. What of this man, this Graelam de Moreton?”
“He is your husband,” he said baldly.
Kassia was very still, her eyes wide and disbelieving on her father’s face. “My husband,” she repeated blankly.
“Aye.” He pulled her tightly against him again and breathed in the sweet scent of her flesh. “Aye,” he said again. “Let me explain what happened, my love. I was convinced that you were going to die. And I also knew that Belleterre would be lost to Geoffrey. I convincedGraelam to wed you before you died. It would be he, then, who would have Belleterre, and not that bastard Geoffrey. He argued with me, Kassia, but I wore him down, with guilt. He finally agreed. The next morning he left with the marriage contracts to go to the Duke of Brittany. The duke approved the marriage, and Graelam, according to my wishes, returned to Cornwall. I did not write to tell him that you had lived. I saw no reason for it until you regained your strength.”
Kassia was gazing at her father, utterly dazed. Married! She was married to a man she had never even seen! She heard herself say numbly, “But why did you not tell me, Father?”
Maurice shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I did not want you to become upset, not when you continued so weak.”
“But you are telling me now. What has happened?”
“The messenger who arrived today was from Lord Graelam, informing me that his master is to wed an English heiress.”
“I see,” Kassia said. She felt weak with shock. Married, she thought again, and to an English lord! She stared at her father, trying to understand.
“There is more, Kassia. The first messenger was sent by the Duke of Brittany. Evidently Geoffrey found out that you were still living at Belleterre, that you had not accompanied your husband to England. He has tried to convince the duke that your marriage was all a sham, a plot by me to keep you and Belleterre out of his hands. The duke demands an explanation. If the explanation pleases him not, he threatens to have the marriage annulled and wed you to Geoffrey.”
“Is this English lord, this Graelam de Moreton, strong enough to protect Belleterre from Geoffrey?”
“Aye,” Maurice said, eyeing his daughter carefully.
It was odd, Kassia thought, sifting through her father’s words, but she felt the stronger of the two now. He looked ill with worry, and, she realized, he was dreading her anger at what he had done. Perhaps, she thought, she would have done the same thing were she her father. She loved her father more than anyone else in the world, more than herself. And she loved Belleterre. She thought of Geoffrey, sly, greedy Geoffrey, and felt a rippling of a shudder at the thought of him as her husband. She said, very firmly, “I understand, Father. I do not blame