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the reason: her father and Sir Corbett sat there, side by side, surveying the vast gathering below them.
    But if she thought the crowd subdued before her entrance, the quiet that fell as she made her way through the maze of tables was truly astounding. Like a wave it preceded her so that before she reached the raised area where the family ate, the hall was completely silent. Even the dogs that wandered in search of an occasional bone or bit of fat seemed to sense the tension in the room and shrink away.
    A part of Lilliane was pleased with the impact her entrance made, for wasn’t it just such a showing she had hoped for tonight? But another part of her cringed at the spectacle they made of her. Everyone waited with bated breath for the introduction of the betrothed couple. Everyone wanted to see how Lord Barton’s willful daughter responded to the enemy knight her father would have her wed.
    Did they expect to see her deny him before the entire company? she wondered in rising agitation. Or did they relish seeing her cowed and obedient to her father’s will? And her betrothed’s?
    Although she trembled from the emotional turmoil it brought her, she resolved to give the anxious crowd neither pleasure. She would not. With her head held high, she assumed her most regal posture as she continued through the hall.
    Before her a sea of faces stretched, yet Lilliane would not look at them and could not have said who they were. Her gaze was drawn to the man who sat beside her father, and she was unable to break the hold of his dark eyes. She was gratified by his surprised expression and by the clear appreciation she saw on his face. Her lips even lifted slightly in a smug smile. But his faint answering grin brought a feeling of distinct unease to her. She paused before the table aware of a quiver deep within her, but she could not tear her eyes away from him.
    He looked incredibly powerful at the lord’s table, as if he had every right to such an honored seat at Orrick Castle. The steel-gray tunic gave him an air of invincibility and made his smoky gray eyes even more intense. Cleaned and combed, dressed in his finery, he did indeed appear the grand lord. And yet Lilliane refused to be deceived by his courtly attire. She knew that the warrior in him lurked beneath the façade he had donned. He might appear the gentlemanly knight this evening, but just a short while ago he had revealed his true self. He was selfish and arrogant, a hard, unfeeling man who did not care for anything—or anyone—but himself.
    It wasn’t until Lord Barton stood up and raised his heavy goblet that she was able to break the compelling hold of his eyes. But the pleased expression on her father’s aging face cut her to the quick. He was truly happy with this union, she realized hopelessly. In his esteem it was the best thing for Orrick.
    But it wasn’t best for Orrick, Lilliane vowed. It wasn’t! And it certainly wasn’t best for her.
    “Lilliane,” her father began, his smile fond as he looked down upon his eldest daughter. “I know you must have met him earlier, Lily, but now I would like to properly present you to Sir Corbett of Colchester.” He turned to the tall, scarred knight who now rose to his feet as well. “Sir Corbett, I present to you Lady Lilliane of Orrick.”
    The hall was in complete silence as the betrothed couple faced one another. Every eye watched as Sir Corbett lifted his goblet to her. Every ear strained to hear his words. But only Lilliane recognized the sardonic gleam in his eyes and the faint ring of sarcasm in his voice as he toasted his bride.
    “To Lady Lilliane, the most beautiful … maid in Windermere Fold—nay, in all of northern England. I would have all of you drink to our happy union.”
    Every arm raised a drink to them, and yet Lilliane was not warmed by the gesture. She had succeeded in surprising him, both with her appearance and by her identity as the uncooperative maid he’d met earlier in the day.