Like hell he would, he thought. Damn those Peregrines! Women seemed to like them in spite of their dirt and their lifelong battle for lands and titles that weren’t theirs. If Liana marries one of those Peregrines, within three years she’ll be old and worn out from being used harder than a plow horse, he thought with some satisfaction.
He mounted his horse and followed her. It would be better to take his men and leave right away. He couldn’t bear to see the betrothal ceremony of the lovely Lady Liana and one of those Peregrines. He shrugged his shoulders. It was no longer any concern of his.
Liana stood before her father and stepmother in the solar and made the announcement that she was going to marry Lord Rogan.
“Wise choice, girl,” Gilbert said. “Best falconer in all of England.”
Helen’s face was slowly turning purple. “Do not do this,” she said, gasping. “You are trying to spite me.”
“I have done what you wanted and chosen a husband,” Liana said coolly. “I would think you’d be pleased with me.”
Helen tried to calm herself, then she sank down heavily in her chair and threw her hands up in surrender. “You win. You may stay here. You may run the estates and the servants. You may have it all, for all I care. When I go to meet my God, I will not have it on my head that I forced my husband’s daughter to this living death. You win, Liana. Does this give you pleasure? Go now. Go from my sight. At least leave me this one room, where neither you nor your dead mother still rule.”
Liana was puzzled by her stepmother’s speech and she thought about it as she turned to leave the room. She was nearly to the door when she realized what Helen was saying. She turned back quickly.
“No,” she said with some urgency in her voice, “I want to marry this man. You see, I met him before. Yesterday. We were alone for a while and…” She looked down at her hands, her face red.
“Oh dear God, he has raped her,” Helen said. “Gilbert, you must hang him.”
“No!” Gilbert and Liana said in unison.
“The hawks—” Gilbert began.
“He didn’t—” Liana began.
Helen put up her hands for silence, then clutched her belly. Her child would no doubt be born with cloven feet after the hell her stepdaughter had put her through during her pregnancy. “Liana, what has the beast done to you?”
Made me wash his clothes, she thought. Kissed me. “Nothing,” she said. “He has not touched me.” She meant to say penance at mass for that lie. “Yesterday while I was riding, I met him and I…” She what? Liked him? Loved him? Hated him? Probably all of them. Whatever she felt for him, it was strong. “And I want to accept his offer of marriage,” she finished.
“Good choice,” Gilbert said. “The boy is a man if ever I saw one.”
“You’re a fool, Liana,” Helen whispered, her face pale. “Rarely does a girl have such a doting father that he will let her choose her own husband, and now I understand why. I would never have guessed you to be so stupid.” She sighed. “All right. It’s on your head now. When he beats you—if you’re still alive—you may return here and have your wounds dressed. Go now. I can’t bear the sight of you.”
Liana didn’t move from where she was. “I do not want to meet him before the ceremony,” she said.
“At last, some wisdom,” Helen said sarcastically. “Stay away from him as long as you can.”
Gilbert was eating grapes. “He hasn’t asked to see you. I guess yesterday was enough, eh?” He grinned and winked at his daughter. He didn’t know when a woman had pleased him so much. The Peregrine boys might be a little rough around the edges, but that was because they were men, not popinjays ruled by women.
“I guess so,” Liana said. She was afraid that if he saw her and realized she was the woman who’d tossed the clothes at him, he’d refuse to marry her. He didn’t like shrews, and if Rogan wanted a soft-spoken wife, then she was going to be a soft-spoken wife.
“Well, it’s easy enough to arrange,” Gilbert said. “I’ll say you have the pox and he can exchange rings with a proxy. We’ll set the wedding for…” He looked at Helen, but she was stony and silent. “Three months. Is that all right with you, daughter?”
Liana looked at Helen, and instead of hating her stepmother, she remembered the way Helen was ready to allow Liana to remain as a spinster in the Neville household. Perhaps Helen didn’t hate her after all. “I will need gowns,” Liana said softly. “And I will need household goods. Do you think you could help me choose what I need?”
Helen looked bleak. “I cannot make you change your mind?”
“No,” Liana said. “You cannot.”
“Then I will help you,” Helen said. “If you died, I would help lay out your body for burial, so I will ready you for this.”
“Thank you,” Liana said, smiling, and left the room feeling wonderfully light and happy. She had a great deal to do in the next three months.
The Peregrine banner of a rampant white falcon on a red background with three horses’ skulls in a diagonal band across the falcon’s belly flew over the campsite. Some of the men slept in tents or under the baggage wagons, but Rogan and Severn lay on blankets on the ground, their bodies surrounded by weapons.
“I don’t understand why she agreed to marry you,” Severn said once again. It was something he’d been puzzling on since Gilbert Neville had said his daughter had agreed to the marriage. Rogan had merely shrugged, then started negotiating what was to be included in the dowry. Neither Rogan nor Gilbert seemed to think it was odd that the young woman, after refusing most of England, should take Rogan sight unseen.
“She turned down everyone else,” Severn said. “Not that I approve of allowing a girl to choose her own husband, but why would she say no to a man like Stephen Whitington?”