In his mind’s eye he saw her in that shed, talking to that man, her face a mask of confusion and dismay before she realized she had been caught. But he also saw her expression as she hurled herself at David, unmindful of the dagger’s point or edge. He did not doubt that she would have taken the blade into her own body rather than let it find its true mark.

In that instant he had accepted, finally, just what he had in her. Not only Llygad’s daughter, but Llygad’s heir. Not just an ally to a small rebellion, but the heart and soul of it. She had been its cause and its beginning, and now she was its lifeblood.

He picked up a handful of rocks and threw them with all his strength, one by one, into the void in front of him. With each thrust his mind shouted a curse. Nesta was involved in something bigger than Genith’s marriage. He knew it in his soul. And she would never tell him what it was, would never betray her father’s cause. Not if he tried to beat it out of her, not if Stratford tortured her. Certainly not for the pleasure and intimacy they had shared in that lodge. She had already made that very clear.

The realization of just how clear only added possessive fury to the black turmoil rolling in his head.

The snort of a horse interrupted his heated thoughts. David rode up, dismounted, and calmly lounged against a tree.

“I came here to be alone,” Marcus said.

“Nay, you came here to make a decision. An ear that forgets what it hears can be useful at such times.”

Marcus ignored him and resumed pacing along the ridge, debating whether he could only protect Nesta by locking her away.

A chunk of stone, dislodged by his boot, skittered over into the empty space. Moments later, the small thumps of it bouncing down the steep hill penetrated the silence.

“Mark, when we were boys you used to do that on rooftops when you were angry at the world. You would balance on the top edge and dare fate. I was awed by your stupid bravery then, but this edge is not made of tile and we are no longer youths. Step away from that ridge before you go over.”

Marcus grudgingly moved a few paces onto more solid ground.

“Back there at the wainwright’s, we could have stopped him,” David said, getting to the heart of the matter in his irritating, placid way.

Aye, they could have. Either David’s dagger or a shout to Sieg would have done it. But the lord of Anglesmore had stopped them.

“Did you notice the bearing of the man, David? Not a farmer, but a soldier. Did you notice his height? He was almost as big as Sieg.”