At the first opportunity, she excused herself to retire to her chamber where she could think and recover from the shock in private. Margaret offered to accompany her, but Joan declined—not ready to answer the inevitable questions.

She realized the hastiness of her decision a few moments later when her path to the door was blocked by a big, mail-clad warrior in a white surcoat with the familiar black, yellow, and red arms.

Her heart pounded. She didn’t need to look up to see the handsome features, golden-blond hair, and brilliant green eyes to recognize him. Recognition was visceral. She felt it in the disgust that crawled over her skin and the revulsion that slithered down her spine in a shiver. And if that weren’t enough, the smell would do it. For months she hadn’t been able to get his scent out of her nose or his taste out of her mouth. Brandy and licorice. Two things that she used to find pleasant, but after made her want to retch.

“Leaving without saying hello?” he said in that low, taunting voice that she’d once found so charming.

Now it made her stiffen. Every muscle in her body turned rigid and hard as steel.

She looked up, meeting the amused gaze of the man who at one time had seemed to be everything she’d ever dreamed of.

He was undoubtedly handsome, but now she realized he was just a pale imitation of the man she’d seen all those years ago and unconsciously tried to replicate: Alex. But compared to Alex, Phillip came up short in every respect. Most significantly in the color of his soul.

He wasn’t as tall as she remembered, although he was considerably broader in the chest and shoulders. Most of it seemed to be muscle, but the belt around his surcoat cinched a gut that she suspected would tend toward portliness in a few years.

He still favored the short beard and longer hair that were popular among the nobility—although he wasn’t. He was the son of a minor baron who with a lucky arrow had saved his lord from being attacked by a boar and earned his son a place in Sir Hugh’s household. Joan’s rank had been part of her appeal, and when it was gone, Phillip had lost use for her, but she’d been too much of a fool to see it until too late.

But she wasn’t a fool now. She was no longer fifteen and trusting. She was no longer innocent and naive. He’d seen to that.