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“I know.” Lady Neville’s recollections had started an ache in Edlyn’s gut. “Who better? When he came along, I was a new-made widow, a virgin, far from anyone who loved me, but so cautious. I’d been knocked about almost all my life, and I didn’t trust anyone.” She shook her head at the memory. “I tumbled into his bed the first night.”

Lady Neville looked around for a chair, and when she couldn’t find one, she hoisted herself up on the table. “At least he wed you.”

“I had dower lands.”

“Nonsense!” The dignified lady’s feet dangled, and she swung them. “There were heiresses all over this land waiting to lay their hearts—and their wealth—at his feet.”

Edlyn eyed the distance from the floor to the table-top. Lady Neville was taller, but she was also older. Surely Edlyn could pull herself up, too. Placing her hands flat on the table, she jumped—and missed.

“You’re soft,” Lady Neville observed. “That’s what you get when you don’t handle the patients, I suppose.”

Exasperated, Edlyn wiped her palms on her skirt. “Then you’ll be soft soon.”

“God grant.” Lady Neville put her hand on Edlyn’s elbow. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

This time she made it. The tall table gave her a different view of the dispensary she thought she knew so well. Was there more than one view of her marriage, too? “’Tis true, Robin could have married any number of women,” Edlyn acknowledged. “After the birth of our son, he scarcely bothered me for more than money, but at the beginning I think he loved me.”

“I think he always loved you, as much as his immaturity allowed him to love anyone.”

“He had so many gifts.”

“And he wasted them.”

“Aye. Always chasing after something better when the best waited at home. By the time the prince’s men came to throw us out of the castle, I was done with waiting. My love for him was a flame, and it went out for lack of tending.”

Edlyn thought she’d said it well, but Lady Neville shrieked in consternation and jumped off the table so fast, Edlyn thought she’d offended her.

“The fire.” Lady Neville laid her hand on the oven. “I forgot about the fire!”

“It should be fine.” Edlyn assured her.

“It’s warm,” Lady Neville said hopefully. Kneeling, she stared in the door. “It’s glowing.”

“Put some twigs on it and blow gently. You’ll see; they’ll burst into flame.”

Lady Neville cocked her head and peered at Edlyn. “So put some twigs on the fire of your feelings for Lord Hugh and see if they don’t burst into flame.”

Edlyn made a face. She’d started this silliness; now Lady Neville turned it on her.

Lady Neville laughed at Edlyn’s sour expression. “Don’t forget to blow gently,” she teased. “’Tis blowing which fans the flames.”

“You’re wicked.” Hearing a commotion outside, Edlyn jumped from the table. “No wonder Lady Corliss wants you to work by yourself.” But she couldn’t resist a grin as she opened the door.

Two lads in miniature monks’ habits bowled her over. “Mama,” they caroled, “we’re home!”

11

Hugh wanted to rush forward and rescue her, but Edlyn lay underneath two squirming lads with every evidence of delight. She hugged them, ruffled their hair, kissed them, wiped her kisses away when they groaned, and generally acted as delighted to see her sons as he hoped she would someday be delighted to see him.

Then Parkin started asking questions. “Are we really going to a castle to take possession of it? Are we going with Hugh and his fighting men?”

“Aye,” she said. “That’s because—”

He didn’t wait for explanation but launched into a new series of questions. “Are we going into battle? Will I get to fight? Will Allyn get to fight? Can we use a sword?”

Rolling him over, Edlyn muffled Parkin with her hand. “We’ll talk about this later,” she answered with a frown.

Hugh moved so his shadow fell on her, and she looked up, startled. He extended his hand, and she stared at it without accepting his help.