The Conquest (Peregrine 2)

She crossed to the horse and mounted. "I will free your horse at the edge of the forest, for I do not want my brothers to see me on a Howard animal. I will not tell them of your men's skulking treachery or of your touching me. My brothers have killed men for less."

She gave him one last look. "Even the Howards do not deserve such a half-man as you."

Tearle was on his feet by the time she'd turned the horse, but she was out of the glade before he could catch the bridle.

Rage gave color to his pale face. Half-man?! His brother should be ashamed of him? A spineless weakling?

He? He, Tearle Howard, a weakling? In France he had won tournaments since he was a boy. He beat all comers. Women threw themselves at him. Women begged him for his kisses, yet this… this boy-girl had said his kiss was not that of a man!

As though she knew one kiss from another. As though she were such a lady of sophistication that she knew anything about kisses—or anything else, for that matter. All she knew were swords and warfare and… and horses. She'd have to be a woman to know if a kiss came from a man or not. She'd have to—

Abruptly he stopped his silent tirade and began to chuckle. Perhaps he had appeared to be a little too helpless. But it had been nice having her lean across him in an attempt to lift him. When her chest had been against his he had felt a hard padding and guessed she must bind her breasts down in her attempt to appear a boy.

And what a futile attempt that was, he thought, for her every movement screamed that she was female. How anyone could believe her to be male was beyond his understanding.

A boy wouldn't have come back to see if his enemy was all right. Of course, Tearle wouldn't have kissed a boy and thus prompted the stabbing, but either way, a boy would not have returned.

He leaned against a tree and closed his eyes for a moment. What an intriguing girl she was, all passion and fury, yet softness underneath. She w

as so unaware of how she could affect a man. She was so different from other women who were coy and flirted and gave promises. The young Peregrine would never flirt, never tease. She would always say what she meant.

He moved away from the tree. He would probably never see her again, he thought.

He started walking. Maybe, he thought, he'd see his brother's men soon. If anyone knew what the Peregrine family planned, it was his brother. Oliver would no doubt be pleased when at last his young brother began to take an interest in the enemy family.

Zared stared out the small stone-cased window and watched the people on the grounds far below. Two days locked in the tower room with nothing but bread and water was her punishment for scaring her brothers half to death. Severn had yelled at her for a solid hour after she'd come limping back home. Rogan's anger had been worse, for he'd looked at her in such a way that she felt small enough to slide between the stones of the fireplace.

At least Severn's yelling had made lengthy excuses unnecessary. Zared had merely mumbled that she'd wanted to ride, Severn's stallion had thrown her, and she'd had to walk back. She much regretted the loss of Severn's horse, but only she knew how very much worse it could have been. All considered, two days locked away was a slight punishment. Her biggest fear was that her brothers wouldn't allow her to go to the tournament.

"If the Howards keep me from that pleasure," she muttered, "I will kill that whining, cowardly worth-nothing with my bare hands."

She jumped when she heard the door open behind her. Turning, she saw Liana enter with a cloth-covered basket. Zared repressed a smile, for Liana, underneath her efficient exterior, was as soft-hearted as a human could be. No doubt she feared that Zared would starve in two days without meat and wine.

"I have brought you something to eat," Liana said. "Not that you deserve it, for what you did endangered all of us."

"And I am most sorry," Zared said, reaching for the basket. "You are more than kind to bring me food when I do not deserve it." She moved to sit on the edge of the filthy bed.

"I couldn't let you starve," Liana said, taking a seat on the one chair in the room and looking about. "This place is not fit for humans."

Zared didn't think the room was so bad—a few fleas here and there, a few rats, but not unlivable. Speculatively she looked at Liana. She knew that Liana had power over whether or not she went to the tournament, for Rogan listened to his wife, and if Liana said Zared should not be allowed to go, then Rogan would forbid it.

"Do you not think it is time for me to have a husband?" Zared asked as she bit into a thick piece of pork.

Liana looked startled. "I have thought so, but I did not think you or your brothers gave much thought to the idea."

"I have been considering it lately," Zared said. "Perhaps I should have my own home, children. Perhaps I should get away from this." She waved her hand. "And the Howards."

"Oh, Zared, I could not agree more. Your life would change so much if you had your own family. Perhaps it would help your brothers get over their hatred of the Howards if they were allied with another family."

"Ah," Zared said. "Then you have someone in mind for me to marry?"

"No," Liana said slowly. "We are so isolated here that we see no one. But perhaps my stepmother would know of someone." She was quiet a moment.

"Perhaps Severn will meet someone at the tourney," Zared said, as though it didn't matter to her. "Or perhaps I could look the men over there."

Liana didn't say anything, and when Zared looked at her she was smiling.

"I see," Liana said. "Perhaps if you, say, went to the tournament as Severn's squire, you could find yourself a husband?"