&nbs
p; ‘I believe I said something similar last night. Or are questions a Norman prerogative?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Well, then. You know all about me. You might as well tell me something about yourself.’
‘Might as well?’ He quirked an eyebrow. ‘How can I refuse such a charming request?’
‘Don’t you think it’s wise to learn as much as you can about your enemy?’
‘Escort.’
‘Captor. Especially if he’s hiding something.’
He glanced at her suspiciously. How did she know that? Normally he rebuffed any questions about his early life, letting people assume he’d simply been born in a barracks. He’d already told her more than he’d intended—more than he had told most of his acquaintance in a year. His past was...complicated. And far too painful to reveal to a woman he’d known for little more than a day. Besides, her opinion of him was low enough already. How much lower would it sink if she knew the truth?
Why was he even still talking to her?
‘What makes you think there’s anything to hide?’
‘I’m just trying to make sense of you, that’s all.’
‘I don’t make sense?’
‘Not when you turn every question around!’
Damn it, she was more observant than he’d expected. Most people didn’t notice how little he told them. This was what came of letting his guard down and trying to comfort her. Typical of a woman to turn his better instincts against him! And yet for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t tear himself away.
‘I fell into soldiering, if you must know. And I was good at it.’
‘So you’re a mercenary?’
‘What?’ If she’d been a man he would have struck her for such a question. ‘You just assume that I’m a sword for hire? Knights don’t tend to be mercenaries—even Norman ones.’
‘How am I supposed to know that? I didn’t mean to offend you.’
He rolled his eyes in frustration. That was probably as close to an apology as he was likely to get.
‘I’m starting to think I shouldn’t leave you alone with FitzOsbern. I’m afraid of what you might say.’
‘Is he so easily offended?’
‘He’s the King’s cousin—the Earl of Hereford, Gloucester, Worcestershire and Oxfordshire. What do you think?’
She shrugged. ‘I think he sounds busy.’
‘He’s not a man to be trifled with.’
‘Maybe not, but you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you leave your homeland? To find somewhere warmer?’
‘If I’d wanted a better climate I wouldn’t have gone to Normandy, let alone come here. This must be the first dry day since we arrived.’
‘Perhaps your King should have checked the climate before he invaded.’
He smiled in surprise. Was that a joke? She was being sarcastic, but for the first time there was no venom behind her words. On the contrary, her voice was soft, thoughtful, surprisingly mellifluous. Perhaps there was hope for her yet...
‘I’ll be sure to warn him next time.’