She flushed, hoping he interpreted it as maidenly rather than as guiltily. “I’m sorry, my lord, this was . . . unavoidable. Margaret was so excited that I could not tell her no.”

He held her gaze with an intensity that made her want to shiver. “Then you have not reconsidered?”

She shook her head.

“Good,” he said, his dark eyes as hard as onyx. “I do not like feeling as if I am being led around by the bit like this horse.”

She did not miss the warning in his tone. Sir Hugh was done with the chase. She wasn’t going to be able to put him off with excuses much longer. But how much was she going to be willing to risk for information?

This was the first time she’d experienced difficulty with one of the men she’d targeted, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Sir Hugh didn’t respond the way the others had, and she feared she’d overestimated her experience in dealing with men. He was only the fourth man she’d attempted to get close to for information.

Targeting important young knights had seemed a natural extension of what she’d been doing before. She had a knack for being in the right place at the right time to hear information from her guardians, as well as listening while not appearing interested, shifting topics without notice, encouraging people to talk, knowing how to goad men into bragging with more information than they should, and “disappearing” into the background so people forgot she was there. Why shouldn’t she be able to apply these skills to all the young men who pursued her? But the others had been, if not simple, then at least nothing she couldn’t handle. She wasn’t sure she could say the same about Sir Hugh—with or without sleeping powder!

He seemed to be waiting for acknowledgment from her. Once she nodded, they were off. The guard that Sir Hugh had arranged to accompany them followed at a discreet distance, but close enough if any harm befell them.

Apparently satisfied by her assurances, Sir Hugh put aside his initial annoyance and proved himself again the charming host, regaling them with war stories and tales of his squirehood on the short journey along the Tweed.

She was enjoying herself so much that she was surprised when the castle came into view. Like Berwick Castle, Wark Castle was located on the important river that bisected a large part of the Borders—the Tweed ran nearly one hundred miles from the Lowther Hills just north of Moffat to the North Sea at Berwick. But that is where the similarities between the two castles ended. The single tower, simple gatehouse, and curtain wall of the motte-and-bailey-style Wark was nothing like the massive, multitowered, multidrawbridged royal administration center of Berwick.