‘Constable?’
‘I believe he’s feeling unwell, my lady.’
‘I didn’t see him in the hall.’
‘That’s because he’s in the gatehouse. Sergeant Lothar summoned him there just after dawn.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t know, my lady. He still hasn’t come out.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Is he hurt?’
Ulf shrugged as if the answer didn’t particularly bother him. ‘I didn’t hear any sounds of violence.’
‘Has anyone gone in to him since?’
‘Not as far as I know. I’m not sure the Sergeant would approve.’
Approve? She picked up her skirts and strode determinedly across the bailey. Approval be damned, what had Lothar done? Even if he was trying to protect her, he had absolutely no right to take matters into his own hands! Hadn’t she told him she could take care of herself? Hadn’t she demanded that he didn’t use violence? And if Ulf said the word Sergeant one more time she would scream!
She was within arm’s reach of the gatehouse door when a grey stallion burst through the archway suddenly, rearing up on its hind legs as the rider drew rein in front of her.
‘Lady Juliana.’ Lothar’s eyes flickered briefly over her loose-fitting gown before settling on her face with a faintly baffled expression. ‘You seem to look more exhausted every time I see you.’
‘Sergeant.’ She folded her arms belligerently. There was no explanation she could give him for that—besides the fact that her appearance was none of his business, especially when she’d put on her best gown and all he could do was find fault!
‘Where have you been?’
‘Out.’ He swung down from his saddle, landing at her feet with a thud. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘My habits are none of your concern.’
‘But you want me to tell you where I’ve been?’
She glared at him. ‘What have you done to Sir Guian?’
‘Nothing permanent.’
‘Have you hurt him?’
‘Do you care?’
‘Yes! Especially if you make him angry and then leave us to bear the brunt! I told you I can take care of myself.’
‘So you did, but in this case there’ll be no brunt. I didn’t lay as much as a finger on him. We talked, just like I promised. He even gave me a present for you.’
‘What is it?’ She narrowed her eyes as he reached into his gambeson and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment.
‘A letter of safe conduct for when you finally decide to leave.’
‘Oh.’ She reached up slowly, wrapping her fingers around one end of the parchment while he still held on to the other, so that for a moment it seemed as if they were holding hands. The very idea was enough to make the breath catch in her throat. ‘That was thoughtful.’
‘He also intends to give you and your men enough supplies for the journey.’
‘He does?’
‘He was feeling generous.’