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A smile curled his lips. Aye, his homecoming would be all he’d ever dreamed. Edlyn would hold him to her breast as she’d done that other time when he was so sick, and she’d tell him of her love. She’d swear never to hide anything from him again. She’d caress him with her cool fingers and confess her every emotion: tenderness, caring, a deep, abiding passion that would never end, no matter how often he rode to battle. That was what she would do.

And him. He would hold her and kiss her, and when he was done making love to her, he’d say…what would he say? She’d expect him to say something. Something about love or commitment.

Aye, that was it. Commitment. He was committed to her, for she was his wife. She’d be satisfied with his commitment. Surely she would.

As Hugh tried to decide why he didn’t believe that himself, one of Hugh’s young knights rode up, half-wild with excitement. “My lord, there is a messenger waiting back at your tent.”

“From the prince?” Hugh asked.

“From Roxford,” the knight replied.

That wiped the smile from Hugh’s face. Why had Edlyn sent to him? Was she worried about him? Would she nag him? Would she humiliate him by insinuating she feared for his life? “Roxford? What has my wife to say?”

“It’s not from your wife, my lord, ’tis from Sir Philip.”

“Sir Philip?” Wharton sounded as dismayed as Hugh felt. “Not good news, if it’s news from Sir Philip.”

Hugh spurred his destrier, and the beast bounded forward. He reached the tent and called, and the messenger, thin and fatigued, dragged out.

“My lord, Edmund Pembridge has besieged the castle. The outer wall has fallen by trickery. They occupy the bailey, and Sir Philip fears another ruse will win them all.”

“Edmund Pembridge?”

Hugh imagined that he saw Edlyn’s proud expression again as she said, “I am your true and loyal wife, and I swear, my lord, that I would never betray you.”

Pride. He’d once told Edlyn she had too much pride, but still he’d demanded she surrender everything to him while he gave her only things—a castle, her shifts, his body. If he’d been willing to surrender his heart, she would have gladly abandoned her pride.

Then he imagined that white flag waving on the battlements and knew she had done just that. She’d abandoned her pride for him, and this was everything Hugh feared and more. “Why didn’t my lady send for me? How goes my lady?”

“She is well, my lord, but unwilling to summon you.” The messenger staggered back, still weak with exhaustion. “She refused to distract you from your battle, but Sir Philip begs that you come. Come at once, or all may be lost.”

20

“My lady, I don’t know what they’re doing, but I like it not.”

Against Edlyn’s orders, Sir Philip had had himself carried to the top of the wall walk on a stretcher. She accompanied him, she told herself, to make sure he didn’t overexert himself. In truth, she’d come because she had to know if she’d made a mistake. She didn’t like the sounds of jubilation that came from the outer bailey. Pembridge and his men were too confident, and she feared Sir Philip was right. Either Pembridge knew of a way in, or he had an accomplice, or both.

“Mama, what’s that shed doing leaning against the outside of the wall?” With his hands gripping the stone merlon that rose like a wolf’s tooth out of the battlement, Parkin climbed the stones and hung far out on the other side.

She reached out and grabbed him by the hem of his surcoat, then eased him back to safety. “Don’t do that,” she admonished while lifting a questioning brow to Sir Philip.

“Grims?” Sir Philip couldn’t rise from his makeshift bed to see, and so he relied on the report of the chief man-at-arms.

“They built a shed and wheeled it against the wall.” Grims spoke in English, then glanced around at the small knot of men-at-arms who surrounded them, and they all nodded.

“Why there?” Edlyn did what she’d just reproved her son for doing. She hung out of the battlement and stared down at the clumsy structure of wood and hide.

Grims shrugged. “I don’t know, m’ lady. Would that I did.”

“They’re not using a battering ram,” Sir Philip observed.

Allyn stood off to the side, but he made his eight-year-old opinion known. “We’d hear that.”

Sir Philip didn’t seem offended, and Grims said, “’Tis a good, sturdy place in the wall, too.”

“Do you hear the sounds of digging?” Sir Philip asked. “Are they tunneling beneath the wall in hopes of making it collapse?”

“There’s no sound at all.” Grims, a veteran of other campaigns, seemed as puzzled as Sir Philip.