One word from her, and that thread would break. This man of all men would not feel bound to serve a rapist. Especially one who had violated the woman he loved.

Her heart started pounding. A victory she had never sought was waiting in the dark eyes gazing into hers. If one marcher lord joined her father’s men, others might too. The new English lords to the north and west could never stand against the power of the borders. The odds of her father’s plan working would increase tremendously, and the alliance Genith was supposed to have made would surely unfold as it should.

It was all there, a breath away. But the bigger temptation was a personal one. She saw Marcus and her united in all ways, joined by day as well as night, hand in hand in duty as well as passion. Her heart filled with a yearning so intense her eyes misted from wanting it so badly.

“Was it?” A demand this time, as the arms surrounding her nakedness tightened possessively.

She wanted to say it. Hungered to. She felt him beneath her, around her. Sensed what was in him, and understood it even better than he did. United, aye, but for the wrong reason. Joined by a duty, but one that would cause the destruction he wanted to stop. Hand in hand, but perhaps in defeat and not victory.

They were his people, but this was not his cause.

A horrible pain lodged in her heart. Sharp and ragged, it stole her breath. In that instant she realized how much she loved him. The regret ripping through her, the temptation to say the words that would bridge what separated them, was mellowed only by the complete certainty of that love.

“Nay,” she whispered. “I was in no way coerced or forced.”

A series of reactions flickered in his eyes. Relief and surprise and even a bit of disappointment. Then, deeply, a flash of anger, as if he resented her refusal to give him the excuse he wanted.

He pressed her head back down on his chest, and the peace lapped over them again. She could feel whatever had provoked his crisis of the soul receding on its tide.

“Then I want you out of it, Nesta. I want you done with it.”

She did not respond. There was nothing she could say.

What he and she wanted was of little importance in this. In any of it.

CHAPTER 19

Marcus, Addis, and Nesta stood together near the rushing stream, drinking the crisp water with which they had filled their cups. Marcus surveyed the forest-covered hills flanking the small valley in which they traveled. They had crossed into Merionetshire, the crown lands known to the Welsh as Gwynedd. When they remounted, they would have to climb into the mountains in order to reach the old manor of Llygad ap Madoc.