Shana Abe Read Free

men
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    I await your ladyship most anxiously
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    Yrs
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    Strathmore
    She had not needed the rest of his title to discern his identity. Roland Strathmore, King Henry’s own Hound of Hell, so he was named, had bothered to write her personally to end the nightmare she was now living. The fact that he was her ex-betrothed might or might not have influenced the personal effort he had made to contact her. She didn’t really care. All she knew was that she couldn’t allow this opportunity to slip through her fingers.
    “Of course it is a ruse. The mere fact that you would question that makes clear the weakness of your thoughts.” Malcolm paused, giving her his full attention. “I do not doubt you mean well, Kyla. I do not doubt your heart is set on goodness. But you cannot trust a beast. These English are no better than beasts, believe me.”
    “Nay.” She faced him calmly, trying to force reason into her tone. “I have heard Strathmore has honor. If he sent the note, then he must have the means and the mind to meet his condition.”
    “Fool,” said her uncle flatly. “It is Strathmore who gave the command to attack us not yet an hour past. The soldiers are coming even now. Will you still trust him?”
    Without giving her time to answer he walked off, slamming the door to the study behind him.
    Kyla stared at it open-mouthed, absorbing what she had just heard. Could it be true? Was the letter nothing more than a lie from the servant of Henry, after all?
    Were the soldiers coming?
    No. She refused to believe it. It would be too ugly to end her hopes like this, not after she had determined that the sacrifice of herself was such a small price to pay for the security of Alister, and her father’s good name.
    Conner Warwick, Baron Rosemead, had once assured his daughter that the man she had never before met but would spend the rest of her life with—the Earl of Lorlreau—was an honorable one. And Kyla knew her father would not lie to appease her. Conner had valued honesty too much for that. He would have asked the king to break off the betrothal if he thought for a moment Kyla would be harmed by it. And she knew Henry had liked her father enough to do it, had he asked.
    Aye, Conner had been popular with all who knew him, a big bear of a man who bestowed smiles and astute advice with equal friendliness. Even the sober king was not immune to his constant good humor and keen observations.
    It must have been so, Kyla often thought, for her father spent more time at Henry’s court than at their own manor house not three days’ ride away. The king needed him, Conner would explain sadly to her mother, the patient Helaine, who would comfort him with gentle pats and kisses, then send him back to Henry in London.
    Perhaps that had been her weakness, Kyla thought now, heading blindly back to the living quarters; perhaps her mother had been too kind in letting her husband always go bowing to the whims of the sovereign. Perhaps if she had only shown a little irritation with Henry’s repeated demands upon Conner’s time. Surely he would have attempted to stay at home with her more.
    Because everyone knew of the unabashed love Conner had for Helaine. Everyone knew that.
    Which was why, perhaps, everyone could be so easilypersuaded that he had killed her in a fit of jealous passion. It could hardly have been anything else, considering the circumstances.
    Kyla shook her head, trying to rid herself of the same circle of thoughts that had been haunting her for the past half year.
    No matter what the evidence, no matter what anyone said, she knew her father would never have killed her mother. Never. He had been so broken without her.
    But King Henry was quite convinced Conner had killed her; that much was plain. He would send an army after the Warwicks to appease his pride, to make sure everyone understood that a man who murdered his wife and one of the king’s noble courtiers could not simply run, could not save himself and his family from