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Her hair was pulled back neatly in the style of the day, highlighting the prominence of her cheekbones and her pointed chin. This must be Catherine, the woman Alexander had spurned, Rogan thought. She certainly seemed of the appropriate age and he had heard tell of her comliness, though the rigid, austere perfection of this woman spoke of a coldness that faintly repelled.

      “Is something amiss?” Catherine asked.

      “That is why I am here,” Rogan said evenly. The tension was building inside, stretching his nerves so taut he feared they would snap.

      Andrew chose that moment to speak. “Perhaps we should all sit,” he said, motioning to a cluster of comfortable-looking chairs by the huge hearth.

      Enguerrand was too impatient “I want to know what is afoot. Why are you here without the duke?”

      Rogan saw no point in delaying. Taking a bracing breath, he said, “He will not be coming. I am here to offer my family’s formal apology and to announce that my brother is severing negotiations with you for the hand of your daughter.” Rogan paused, dreading what came next. “Alexander has decided on another.”

      There was a short, stunned silence. “Married another?” Catherine said at last. Her lovely features contorted into a mask of outrage. “Who?”

      This was the worst part. “A merchant’s daughter. Her name is Carina.”

      “He married a merchant’s daughter?” Enguerrand exclaimed shrilly.

      Placing a comforting hand on the man, Andrew said, “Perhaps you would like that seat, now, I think we should—”

      “Get your bloody hands off me!” Enguerrand thundered.

      “Perhaps not,” Andrew answered smoothly, stepping away.

      “My brother has chosen his wife based on love,” Rogan said without apology, surprised he could do so. His earlier apprehension was gone, and he faced Enguerrand like any opponent, only this time the parrying was with words instead of blows. Still his hand itched with longing to feel the comfort of his sword hilt. He kept it clenched to control the instinct.

      “Love?” Catherine choked.

      Andrew shrugged. “Who can explain that intangible emotion? It strikes even the most noble among us, and can be—”

      “This is an outrage!” Enguerrand exploded. “He and I were discussing the bride-price! How much further did he think he could lead me? It is a breach of contract, a crime!”

      There it was, the accusation he had feared. Rogan narrowed his eyes, ready to leap to the defense when a movement out of the corner of his eye stole his attention.

      He turned, looked, then stopped.

      Enguerrand’s tirade faded into the background as the loveliest female Rogan had ever set eyes upon rushed forward.

      She was dressed little better than a servant, in a faded gown that was much too small for her and more the worse for wear. Her hair was a riotous mass of soft ringlets that fell clear to her waist and was of the same tawny color as the noble lion he had seen many times in his travels. Her eyes, which were now wide with worry, were an impossible shade of blue. No, green. No, somewhere in between, like the color of a tropical sea.

      He stood transfixed, watching her wordlessly as she came to him and sank into a deep curtsy, her head bowed. The untamed mane slid forward like a curtain, stealing his view of that beautiful face.

      “Your grace,” she murmured.

      He was frozen for a moment. Then impulsively he reached down and touched her chin with his fingertips, tilting her head up. Those eyes fluttered open to meet his and she smiled a bashful, tentative smile.

      “Lily!” Enguerrand boomed. “Get off the floor.”

      Confusion passed over her features. She looked about as if searching each face for an answer.

      Catherine glared at her sister. “He is not the duke, you ninny. Get up! Where were you?”

      “I was in the orchard,” Lily explained. Hesitantly, and with a doubtful glance at Rogan, she rose to her feet.

      “Where is Elspeth?”

      “At chapel, I think.” Lily darted another self-conscious look his way, and Rogan instinctively sensed her embarrassment at being chastised in front of him. Again an inexplicable impulse seized him and he offered a small bow. “I am Alexander’s brother, Rogan.” He smiled. “And you are the Lady Lily.”

      “Yes,” she answered. Her voice was as soft as a breeze.

      “I want an explanation!” Enguerrand demanded. “I wish to speak to the duke myself. For all I know this could be a trick. I’ve never met you two.”

      “It is no trick, Enguerrand,” Rogan said firmly. However, he seemed to be losing his focus. The girl, Lily, was following the conversation with a mixture of bemusement and alarm, and he found the play of these emotions on her face infinitely fascinating. “You know Alexander was reluctant to make the contract final.”

      “He all but gave his word!” Enguerrand thundered.

      It was Andrew who diffused the situation. “Well, I must say that you are handling this with amazing self-control.” This made Enguerrand’s eyes bulge in astonishment. The older man was doing no such thing and knew it. Andrew continued smoothly, “I know many men, lesser men than you, Enguerrand, who would have drawn their sword and run us through without waiting for explanation. Oh, you are angry and I don’t blame you. Unfortunate business, and we are all the worse off for it. You have a right to make complaint, as does your lovely daughter. But you are a man who has lofty morals, I can see, and knows the value of talking things through. Quite admirable.”

      Enguerrand had fallen silent and was staring at the younger St. Cyr with openmouthed shock. Andrew went on, “Of course, with the country in the state it is today, what with John aspiring to the crown and the barons in such an uproar, ‘tis well that such rash behavior is beneath a man such as yourself. Why, it could mean war, and that would decimate two houses. It is hardly worth it, you will agree, but not every man would have the wisdom to see that and do what is best for his people.”

      Incredibly, Andrew’s facetious compliments seemed to have their intended impact. Enguerrand was taken off guard and more than a bit confused, but he relaxed slightly, muttering, “Quite so. Indeed, terrible business.”

      For the moment, Enguerrand seemed deflated. Behind him Catherine seethed silently. Rogan exchanged glances with his brother, and Andrew flashed him a quick lift of his eyebrows in triumph.

      When he turned back, Rogan saw that Lily had witnessed his brother’s irreverent gesture. Her lips compressed in a tight, controlled smile as she lowered her eyes. That simple gesture caused a sweet warmth to spread through him. With an effort, he tore his gaze away and attended his host.

      Enguerrand was still disgruntled. However, he offered them sit at his table and ordered refreshments set out. Rogan inclined his head in acceptance of the offer of hospitality, relieved that, for the time being, at least, Enguerrand seemed to have calmed. Catherine, he could see, had not. Pushing aside his interest in the gentler sister, Rogan saw where his duty lay and offered the cold beauty his arm. Her eyes smoldered resentfully and then she blinked. Rogan thought he spied a flash of interest as if she had recognized something she hadn’t noticed before.

      Behind him, Rogan heard Andrew say, “I am neither duke nor crusading hero, but a humble priest. However, I have been told I am a pleasant enough fellow. May I?”

      Lily must have taken his arm, for he heard a quiet Thank-you in response.

      Rogan became uncomfortably aware that he was, of all things, envious of his younger brother.

       Chapter Two

      Lily

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