It was an unfortunate turn in the conversation, but she had been expecting it. She had plenty of experience with men looking at her the wrong way, and this one had been looking that way since he walked through the door.

“With all respect, sire, that night was a lifetime ago. It is time to forget it.”

“I am not sure that I can. This marriage of yours has been eating at me since I heard of it. That old Scot was one thing, but Marcus—”

“King you may be, but listen to me now. You have no right to this ridiculous jealousy. This marriage will stand, and with your blessing. You will not hold it against Marcus. If you slight him in any way, I will see that you have so much trouble with the Welsh that the Scots will be baking their bread in York before you can spare the men to fight them.”

That took him aback, but he appeared more amused than angry. “You speak too boldly. Perhaps that was your appeal. Other women dare not chastise me thus.”

“Then visit us whenever you need a scolding. You can come this summer, and honor us with your presence at our child’s baptism.”

That surprised him even more. His gaze swept her, as if he sought the physical proof of her claim. “You are …?”

“Enough along to be sure.”

He frowned. Nesta suspected it was not her sudden status as a mother that troubled him. The frown was that of a king finally comprehending political realities.

No longer interested in the foolish girl he had once wooed, he pulled open the door. “Let us rejoin your husband.”

“I will tell you that Arundal spoke with me,” Edward said, his tone and pose very severe. “I know that all turned out well in Wales, but his tale suggested some peculiar doings.”

Marcus faced the accusation blandly. Nesta was by his side again, appearing far too smug. He looked forward to hearing what she had said in that other chamber to cause Edward the man to retreat so thoroughly, and for Edward the King to appear unsettled.

“Anything but a field covered with bodies would be peculiar to Arundal,” Marcus said.

Edward’s sharp gaze shifted from him to Nesta, and back again. “If both of you had not alluded today to the chance for more peculiar doings, I would be more contented. As it is, I cannot ignore that one of my barons has married the daughter of Llygad in what could be a dangerous alliance.”

“There is no danger to you or England in this alliance,” Marcus said.

Beside him, Nesta smiled vaguely.

The King did not miss that. “I want your oath, Marcus, that the child she carries will be educated properly. That he will be England’s man, and that you will not permit this woman to divide his loyalties.”