Free Dryden's Bride by Margo Maguire

said, standing now with his back toward Marguerite. This was impossible! Why had he ever agreed to coming to Clairmont? He turned to face her, and managed to speak calmly. “I doubt you will find any objections from that quarter, but I grant you time to make your wishes known to them.”
    “Thank you, my lord,” Marguerite said timidly. “You are most generous.”
    “If you do not mind,” he said, “I will remain here at Clairmont until you have made your decision.”
    “It is not entirely my decis—”
    Hugh held up one hand. “Whatever the case may be,” he said, “if it is of no inconvenience, I will stay.”
    “You are welcome to remain here, my lord,” Marguerite said, regaining her usual courtesy and aplomb. “Of course.”
    Hugh was well aware that Marguerite considered his marriage proposal only because he’d proven himself in battle, not because of any desire to wed him. Though her etiquette had been impeccable, Hugh knew the lady had won herself some time by requesting his patience as she asked her uncle and any other counselors foradvice—time in which to prepare herself for a marriage that Hugh knew would be nothing but distasteful to her.
    In spite of what Hugh sensed of Marguerite’s feelings toward him, he resolved to stay at Clairmont to await Marguerite’s decision, rather than returning to Windermere, or going to his own estate at Alldale. He and Nicholas would begin training with the Clairmont men, working with sword and lance, on horseback at the quintain, and with bow and arrow. They had already organized patrols to scour the countryside to ensure that all was secure, and had gone back to spend the rest of the day in town, helping the men with some of the heavy tasks that needed doing before rebuilding.
    It was late afternoon by the time Hugh returned to Castle Clairmont, and he walked out to Marguerite’s garden to enjoy the last minutes of sunlight in peace. The open spaces, the unlimited sky above, were comforting to his soul, as always.
    There was much to do in Clairmont and the activity invigorated Hugh. It was an unfamiliar sensation—working toward a purpose, pursuing definite objectives. He was bone-tired, and it felt surprisingly good.
    Sitting down on a stone bench, Hugh enjoyed the whisper of a cool breeze on his face. The busy sounds of the castle and all the activity on the grounds were distant now, and Hugh relaxed, shutting out his past completely. He tried to imagine Clairmont as his home. He thought of walking these parapets, patrolling these borders for the rest of his life. Of living here with Marguerite.
    “Maman! Regarde!”
    Hugh looked up sharply and saw petit Henri running toward him, smiling happily.
    The little fellow ran across the lawn ahead of a groupof adults, and climbed up onto Hugh’s lap, making the weary man sit up and brace himself against the little king’s sharp knees as they dug into his thighs.
    “Lord Alldale,” the queen said, arriving with her entourage. “Do not rise,” she added, noting her son’s contentment on Hugh’s lap. “It is a beautiful afternoon for a stroll, non? ”
    Hugh agreed with Her Majesty. The sky had cleared after the earlier rain, and the breeze was comfortably cool. He was fatigued, but satisfied after a productive day. However, the peace of the afternoon was now gone with the crowd of courtiers upon him, including Owen Tudor and his sister.
    Lady Siân wore the bright yellow gown she’d ripped in the woods on the day of her encounter with the boar. The bodice—where it had been torn—had been cleverly repaired, so as to be hardly noticeable at all. Except that Hugh could not forget the way it had appeared that morning, torn to expose an exquisite wealth of tempting but forbidden skin.
    Calming his wayward thoughts, Hugh decided that the color suited her—it was bright and sunny, innocent and open. Just like the woman.
    Her hair was tamed this afternoon, as well, though Hugh doubted there were any pins in