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Stupid with dismay, Edlyn stared at the older woman. They were gone? She’d sent Hugh off, probably to his death, without a word?

Something of her anguish must have shown on her face, for Neda said, “If you wish, I know a place where you can watch him ride away.”

Edlyn rushed down the stairs, Neda took her arm, and together they hurried through the gate into the outer bailey, then up the stairs to the top of the battlements. On the broad wall walk, every man-at-arms leaned out and watched some event off in the distance.

Edlyn rushed to a notch in the stone and stared out also. “There they are!”

They were close enough that she could still distinguish each knight, and Hugh himself towered over the others. They weren’t looking back though. They all faced forward, moving away from this home that had sheltered them briefly and toward the fighting they knew so well.

“Hugh.” Edlyn whispered his name. Then she screamed. “Hugh! Hugh!” She stepped up into the embrasure between the tall stone merlons. “Hugh!”

He couldn’t have heard her, but his head turned suddenly and he stared back at the castle as if imprinting it into his brain.

Frantically, she waved the shift she still clutched in her hand. “Hugh. Hugh!”

Attracted by the flailing white garment, his gaze lifted to the place where she stood. He stopped, staring, and turned his horse. Then she saw the flash of his teeth, and he waved an arm in reply.

The knights around him took in the situation in one glance, then rode on. Only Wharton remained by Hugh’s side, and even from the distance Edlyn felt the disgust in his glare.

She didn’t care. Hugh was smiling and waving, and she continued to signal with the white shift even after he’d gone on.

Behind her, Neda said, “He’s out of sight in the forest, my lady.”

“Aye.” He was. She knew it, but she didn’t want to face the emptiness of the castle behind her. Oh, people filled it, of course. She had many duties to attend, and her sons required she reestablish her discipline now that Hugh had left. But knowing she would not catch a glimpse of Hugh, not hear his voice or have the opportunity to touch him, made her obligations almost too heavy to bear.

Dear lord, she did love him.

She’d sworn not to. She’d been hurt so badly by Robin she had sincerely thought her capacity to love had been destroyed. But Hugh had resurrected an old love and built on it, and now all of her—her past, her present, her future—was saturated with the desire to be with him. She loved him. She loved a warrior.

“You should come down now.”

Edlyn felt a tug on her cotte, and she saw Neda held her hem in both fists as if she feared her lady would fall.

“You’ve signaled your desire for truce to your lord.”

“Truce?”

“The white flag,” Neda said gently. “He understood, I’m sure.”

The white flag? Edlyn stared about her. Ah, the shift in her hand. She’d waved it, and Hugh had thought she had declared her submission. Well, she hadn’t. She might love the man, but she was far from submissive.

Hugh stood on a hill and stared across the open meadow turned golden in the setting sun. There, on the morrow, he would meet and defeat one army of rebels who fought for Simon de Montfort’s cause.

The breeze lifted Hugh’s hair and cooled his cheeks, and the sky showed no hint of rain. Aye, it would be a good day for battle. Not so hot that men would broil within their armor, but dry enough so that the horses could find footing.

Yet the armies were a mere eight days’ march from Roxford, and that made him uneasy. In this terrain and in this weather, a lone man with changes of mount could ride to Roxford in two days. That was too close. There would be vagrants after the battle, men who had captured horses and armor and looked for other plunder. Worse still, the armies of Simon de Montfort and his son could easily move in that direction. Then Edlyn would be besieged.

Edlyn. He took a breath of fresh air and remembered the sight of that white flag she waved from the battlements. Trust Edlyn to signal defeat when he couldn’t claim his reward. She had left him with an itch he couldn’t scratch and strengthened his determination to get back to her so he could subdue it.

Edmund Pembridge might have besieged her heart, but Hugh de Florisoun had won it.

If only they’d had time to have the fealty ceremony! If he could have held the hand of each knight and each servant in his own and looked into his eyes as he swore to obey and serve Hugh as his master, Hugh wouldn’t be so anxious now.

Where was Edmund Pembridge? Hugh had thought him in Simon de Montfort’s army or even with de Montfort’s son. To hear that Pembridge had disappeared into the English countryside made Hugh want to watch his back—and to beg Edlyn to watch for treachery, too.

For really, how much did he know about the men he’d left to guard Edlyn?

Oh, aye, Burdett had said he would gladly transfer his loyalty to Hugh, but would he really? He had been Pembridge’s man for years; was he still?