“Do I dress for a judgment, or an execution?”

“Hell’s teeth, listen to that impudent tone she uses,” Arundal roared. “Be glad it isn’t a judgment, woman, or the execution would quickly follow if I had my way.”

Marcus held up a hand for silence. “You will be kept in close confinement for now, Nesta.”

She examined their faces, trying to determine how great her danger was. “For what reason?”

“So that you do not send out servants with word of every move we make,” Hubert sneered.

She waited expectantly for the rest, and the accusation of the bald treason she had committed recently.

Marcus just watched her with an unfathomable expression.

That annoyed her. He could give her some sign indicating what she faced. The flaring alarm in her blood gave way to a different heat. She resented these men standing here, filling the chamber with their size and power, making the other women weep and frightening her so badly she could barely think.

She rose, pulling the blanket with her. “Then I must come as you command. One woman can hardly stand against such impressive strength.”

Turning to her clothing chest, she began letting the blanket drop.

Marcus was beside her in an instant, his hands clutching the blanket’s edge so it lowered no further. “Do not even consider using this old weapon, Nesta,” he whispered tightly.

She shot a glance past him, to where Hubert and Arundal watched. “Only one shoulder shows, and already these great knights have forgotten why they came. Do you fear that the King’s whore will gain an ally, Marcus?” she whispered back.

“You may think to only make them into fools, but I will not stand here while they look at you.”

“Then get these English pigs out of my chamber,” she hissed.

Marcus did not even turn his head as he gave the order to the others. “Leave.”

Hubert’s face had gone slack with anticipation. “She may hide something on her person. A weapon or whatnot. I hold this manor, and it is my respons—”

“I will stay and see she does not. You may be castellan here, but by law this is my bride, and you will leave now.”

Miffed, and giving Nesta a final, liquid leer, Arundal led the way out. “Aye, your woman, and your responsibility, so her acts are now yours as well. We will be sure to remind Edward of that.”

“Dress now,” Marcus said when the door closed.

She let the blanket drop, and knelt at the chest to choose garments. She took her time, feeling Marcus’s gaze on her the whole time. The women watched as silent witnesses. Their darting glances revealed that they were alert to what pulsed between her and the knight watching.