Joining by Johanna Lindsey Page B

wanted to catch him at just the right time, when he was alone in his chamber but not yet asleep.
    So she slipped into the small chamber in front of his where his squires slept, and waited for them to leave the inner chamber after preparing him for bed. She did not have to wait long. Soon both squires appeared, and recognizing her, gave her no more than a curious look as she passed them and closed the inner door behind her.
    The thick curtains on her father’s bed had been closed to keep out the drafts, so she cleared her throat to let him know he was not alone. She had no worry that he might not have been alone before she entered.
    He had never taken a mistress, at least none that she ever heard of. Instead he slept with the memories he had of the one he still missed. Milisant sorely regretted not knowing her mother, a woman who could inspire such devotion even after her death. She had been only three when she’d died, and could recall no memory of her other than sweet smells and a gentle voice that could banish all fear.
    “I have been expecting you,” he said as he moved the curtain aside and patted the bed next to him.
    She approached slowly, unable to tell by his tone just how angry he was. She knew he had sent others than just Jhone to look for her, for she had dodged them repeatedly throughout the day.
    “You are not too tired to talk?” she asked carefully, sitting beside him.
    “Talks with you are always interesting, Mili, because you do not think as one might expect you to. So nay, I am never too tired to talk to you.”
    She frowned. “You find me interesting, do you? But I’ll warrant you do not think others find me so.”
    “If you seek a denial of that from me, you will not get it. Others do indeed find you—strange, rather than interesting. ’Tis well that you do not delude yourself of this and so cannot be offended by it. When you make a concerted effort to be other than what you are, daughter, you must accept the consequences. ’Tis human nature to cling to what is normal and traditional, and to question, even fear, what is not.”
    “I am not feared,” she scoffed.
    “By those who know you well, nay, you are not. You
are
normal to them, because they have long known you to be the way you are. And you have been deluded by this acceptance to think that you can continue to do as you would like indefinitely. ’Tis just not so, Mili.”
    She noted the sadness in his tone. She did not take his words to heart, though. She would
not
change her ways just because some folks would find her behavior strange—for a woman. She had fought against such limited restrictions all her life. Why would she stop that fight now? But she knew why her father would want her to change—at this time. Because of de Thorpe.
    In the same vein he continued, “You are old enough now, and certainly intelligent enough, to realize that benefits can be reaped from compromising.”
    She stiffened. “Meaning?”
    “Meaning that it would have cost you little to don the appropriate clothes to make a favorable first impression on your future husband. To have him pleased with you would greatly be to your benefit and yours alone. Instead, you do not even make an appearance. Was it necessary to embarrass me in front of my friend’s son this way?”
    “Nay, Papa, you know that was not my intent!” Milisant protested.
    “Yet was that the case,” he replied. “Would it really have inconvenienced you so much to treat our guest with the respect due him?”
    “He is due no respect from me,” she mumbled.
    Nigel was now frowning. “He is due every respect from you. He is your betrothed, soon to be your husband.”
    “But I would have it otherwise.”
    “Otherwise?”
    This was what she had come for, and she rushed to get it all said before he stopped her. “I do not want to marry him, Papa. The thought of it terrifies me. I would mar—”
    “This is normal—”
    “Nay, it is not, for ’tis
just
him. On the path this morn, he