The Conquest Read online

  Zared's mouth dropped open. "With child?"

  "Swear to me. You cannot go otherwise."

  Zared grimaced. Her sister-in-law understood nothing. Severn was going to get a wife, not to kill anyone, and she was going to see the sights. Besides, people thought she was a boy, so no man was going to try to impregnate her. A brief memory of the youngest Howard kissing her crossed her mind. He'd known she was female, but that was probably because he was half female himself, fainting over a little cut!

  "I swear," Zared said.

  "I guess that shall have to do. Now get a good night's sleep, because tomorrow you leave with your brother."

  Zared grinned broadly. "Yes, I will, and thank you, Liana, thank you. I will do the Peregrine name proud."

  "Don't say that or I'll think you mean to return with a dozen heads on pikes. Goodnight, Zared. I will pray for you every day." Liana left, shutting the door behind her.

  Zared stood where she was for a moment, then jumped high, her hands hitting the cracked plaster ceiling. She felt as though the next day her life would truly begin.

  Chapter Three

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  For two days Tearle listened to Oliver rant about the Peregrines. Most of what he heard was useless information, but Tearle listened just the same. He found out that the girl's name was Zared, and it was Oliver's opinion that the "boy" would never be the equal of his brothers.

  On the afternoon of the second day Oliver received the news that Severn Peregrine was to enter the Marshall tournament, and it was rumored that he was going to try for the Lady Anne's hand in marriage.

  Oliver had been quite jovial at the idea. "I shall take him prisoner while he is there."

  "With the king watching?" Tearle asked, yawning. "I don't imagine Anne's father would like this feud of yours taken onto his land."

  "Anne, is it?" Oliver asked, his ears perking up like a hunting dog's. "You know the woman?"

  "Only by sight. She lived in France for a while."

  "Then you shall go."

  "To the tournament? To spy on the man as he goes courting?"

  "Yes." Oliver's eyes were feverishly bright. "You will see what they do, watch them, report to me about—"

  "Them?" Tearle sat up in the chair. "Who is to go besides the second son?"

  "The boy is to be his squire." Oliver snorted. "He cannot afford a true squire, so he has to use his own brother. He will be a laughingstock, for they are a dirty, crude lot, and the Marshalls are people of great refinement. Would that I could see the Peregrines' humiliation."

  "I will go," Tearle said.

  Oliver grinned. "You will fight him. I shall have to go. I must see this. On the jousting field a Howard will down a Peregrine. The king—the world—shall see that a Howard—"

  "I'll not fight him," Tearle said. He knew that he would never have an opportunity to spend time with the youngest Peregrine were he to announce himself as a Howard. "I shall go in disguise." Before Oliver could open his mouth Tearle continued. "I shall spy on them," he said, feeding Oliver's obsession. "No one in England knows I have returned. I shall attend the tournament as… as Smith. I shall watch and learn more about the Peregrines than I could if I announced myself as their enemy."

  Oliver looked at his brother, and his expression changed. "I was not sure you understood," he said softly. "But I should not have doubted our blood."

  Tearle smiled at his brother. He did not feel the least bit guilty for deceiving his brother, for Oliver's hatred of that family did not deserve respect. I shall protect them, he thought. I shall see that no harm comes to the Peregrines, no misaimed arrows, no pieces falling from the roof, no cut saddle cinches. I shall see that for once they are safe from Howard hatred.

  "No, you should not have doubted me," Tearle said. "I have always been as I am. I have never changed."

  Oliver frowned a bit at that but then smiled. "Yes, I see. You have always been a Howard. When do you leave?"

  "Now," Tearle said, and he rose. He wanted to hear no more of Oliver's venom, but most important, he wanted to get to Anne Marshall. He hadn't told his brother the truth when he'd said he barely knew Anne. He'd tossed her on his knee when she was a child, had kissed her tears away when she'd fallen, had told her ghostly stories at bedtime and then received tongue-lashings from her mother for causing Anne to wake screaming in the night. An adult Anne had comforted Tearle when his mother had died.

  Tearle knew that if he was to appear at the Marshall tournament in disguise, he had to get to Anne first and tell her of his plans.

  Tearle sat on top of the garden wall and watched Anne and her ladies walking. One lady was, as usual, reading aloud. Tearle had often teased Anne for her scholarly ways; she seemed forever buried in a book.

  He leaned back against a branch of an old apple tree and smiled at the sight. The women in their bright gowns, their elaborate headdresses trimmed with jewels and gauze veils, were a beautiful sight, but Anne stood out even from those women. Anne was a beauty among beauty. She was tiny, barely reaching a man's shoulder, and she was vain enough that she always surrounded herself with tall women. She looked like a precious jewel, and the towering women were a setting for that jewel.

  As she and her women moved forward he had no doubt that Anne would see him. The other women would probably never look up, but Anne didn't miss anything. If possible, her brain was even brighter than her face was lovely. And, Tearle thought with a wince, her tongue could be as sharp as a blade. Too often he'd been on the receiving end of her barbs, and he knew how they could sting.

  When Anne glanced up and saw him, only for a second did she look startled. Startled, but not fearful, for it would take more than one mere man to frighten Anne Marshall. Tearle gave her a smile, and she looked away quickly.

  Within moments she had dismissed her women, sending them all away on errands, and she stood below Tearle, looking up at him.

  He jumped lightly to the ground, took Anne's small hand, and kissed it. "The moon has no beauty compared to you. Flowers hide their faces in shame when you walk past. Butterflies close their wings; peacocks do not dare show themselves; jewels cease to sparkle; gold—"

  "What do you want, Tearle?" Anne asked, pulling her hand away. "What causes you to skulk about my father's garden? Are you in love with one of my maids?"

  "You wound me," he said, his hand to his heart as, stumbling as though he had been stabbed, he sat on a stone bench. "I have come merely to see you." He looked up at her with a bit of a grin. "I would forgive your accusations were you to sit on my knee as you used to do."

  Anne's beautiful face relaxed its sternness, and she smiled as she sat beside him. "I have missed your silver tongue. Do you not find these English a sober lot?"

  "Most sober. My brother is…" He didn't finish.

  "I have heard. My sister has filled my ears with naught but gossip. Your family is at war with another family."

  "Yes, the Peregrines."

  "I have heard much of them," Anne said. "My sister attended the wedding of the eldest son to Lady Liana." She gave a delicate shudder.

  "They are not so bad." He was on the point of telling Anne about Zared but stopped himself. It would not do to tell anyone she was female. If a person could not tell by looking at her, he did not deserve to be told. "The second son is coming to the tournament and means to win your hand."

  Anne turned to look at him, astonishment on her beautiful face. "To win my hand? A Peregrine? For all your family's feud with them, you must not know much of those men. They are a filthy, ignorant lot. The oldest brother did not attend his own wedding feast. He was too busy counting the gold his bride brought him. When Lady Liana's stepmother was justifiably so angry she threatened to dissolve the marriage, he took his virginal bride upstairs and… and…" She stopped and looked away. "He is more animal than man."

  "All hearsay," Tearle said in dismissal. "I have seen the men fight. The one who comes will do well in your tournament."

  "He can beat you?"