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“As God wishes, child.”

She couldn’t dislike Lady Corliss, so she glared at Hugh with eyes that teared from the heat of her anger.

And like the cretin he was, he just said, “Wear something pretty.”

“To our wedding, you mean?” She took great satisfaction in replying, “I have nothing pretty.”

Having decided he had blundered enough, Lady Corliss shoved him away. “I’ll find her something. Now go before you ruin all.”

Like any good soldier, he comprehended retreat and the need for it, and he left without a murmur.

Edlyn stared at the door he’d closed behind him and said in despair, “You don’t understand.”

“Actually, I think I do.” Lady Corliss put her arm around Edlyn’s rigid shoulders and pulled her close. “But there are only the three estates to chose from.”

Edlyn stood stiffly in Lady Corliss’s embrace. “What do you mean?”

“Your betrothed said it, I think. There are men who labor, men of the church, and men who fight. A lady cannot wed a peasant who coaxes grain from the field, nor can she wed a man who has pledged himself to the church, so who else can you wed but a warrior?”

“Why wed anyone?” Edlyn burst out.

“Lady Edlyn, I have watched you since the day you endowed this abbey and asked me to come and lead it. You’re a woman of passionate beliefs, of joys, of sorrows. You don’t live life, you revel in it, and you draw people with your warmth. This last year has been difficult for you, not just because of the tragedy of your marriage but because you’ve had to conform to our order’s rules.” Lady Corliss chuckled. “I have been glad I didn’t have to deal with you as a nun.”

“Have I done so badly, then?”

“Not at all, but you’ve had to restrain the fires within you, and I see them dying from lack of fuel.” Tightening her arm briefly, Lady Corliss said, “I’ve seen the fires raging in you in the last fortnight and wondered what ignited them. I believe it’s that man.”

“I’m not on fire for him,” Edlyn muttered. What was she doing, talking with Lady Corliss about the fire between a man and a woman? The whole subject made her uncomfortable, and she squirmed like a guilty child.

“Marrying him will free you to feel the fire.” Lady Corliss released her. “We had best go find something for you to wear.”

“Would you really have thrown me out and kept my children?”

Lady Corliss ushered Edlyn out of her office, out of the church, and toward the abbey cloister. “What do you think?”

“I think you are as ruthless as any warrior.”

“My thanks, Lady Edlyn.” As they walked, Lady Corliss beckoned, and the nuns fell in behind them. By the time they entered the cloister, they were surrounded by ladies of all kinds. A widowed countess, the virgin youngest daughter of an earl, a baron’s discarded wife, two ladies whose husbands, like Edlyn’s, had chosen the wrong side in a battle fought long ago. The cool, dim common room filled with women, and when Lady Corliss asked for clothing that would befit a bride, their voices broke into a babble of glee. Before Edlyn knew quite what had happened, the door had been barred and she’d been stripped and placed in the tub for the ceremonial bathing.

As she was being scrubbed, the call echoed through the square. The first banns had been called.

The nuns pulled Edlyn out of the tub, dried her body and her hair, and began the long task of combing the tangles out of the sweep of brown locks. As they worked, they exclaimed at her slenderness after bearing a child. Lord Hugh would want her fattened up, one suggested. Lady Neville, the widowed countess, laughed and said, “I saw him look at her in the square. He seems to find her well enough as she is.”

Outside, another call echoed through the square. The second banns had been called.

The nuns brought forth the finery they had hidden away. They dropped a thin white linen shift over her head. It reached her knees and didn’t tie. Instead it lay flat and wide against her chest, and a tracery of embroidered vines and leaves along the top etched her skin. After much serious discussion, they narrowed the choice down to two gowns—a cotte with light and dark green stripes that accented her eyes and another that was a plain sweep of delicate blue wool.

“Not green,” Lady Neville said firmly. “’Tis a color for a woman of light morals, and there’s been too much said about that this day.”

Edlyn’s ears and cheeks burned fiery red.

Lady Neville looked impatient. “Don’t distress yourself, Lady Edlyn. Only the ignorant believed it.”

The nuns murmured, some doubtfully, and Lady Corliss saved Edlyn from further embarrassment. “I prefer the blue. It is the color of Our Lady.”

The nuns nodded solemnly.

Then she added, “And the open side lacing and center split skirt will surely render Lord Hugh helpless in her hands.”