Terri Brisbin by The Betrothal Page A

Braden swallowed deeply from his cup before looking at Orrick. When he did meet Orrick’s gaze, there was amusement there as well as the benevolence of a teacher for his student.
    “My ladywife is my partner, Braden. I trust her implicitly as she trusts me. She strives always for my health and happiness as I strive for hers. Margaret knows that any actions she takes on my behalf, any words spoken by her in my name, any protection extended will be supported by me, as she supports all that I do. It has taken us years and many, many mistakes to come to this point, but it has given me all I could want in life.”
    Braden could hear the conviction in his words and watched as each of the men at the table nodded in agreement. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts—this was not the way of things. It sounded as though the wives ruled here and the husbands gave way for them.
    “Do not misunderstand my words, Braden,” Lord Orrick said to him more quietly. “If the need is there for me to give an order, my ladywife will obey me. In all things. But there are better ways to accomplish what you need to do than by making a battle of it.”
    “You think this is a battle? One I cannot win?”
    Braden had fought many enemies in the past. Strategy and planning were his strengths. One mere woman would be no challenge.
    Hell.
    This woman was more than a challenge—she was a formidable adversary. She’d already begun to undermine his plans by being something, someone, very different from what he had expected.
    Still, any softening in his feelings about her did not change his pressing need. Spring was full upon England and his time was limited. If Gwanwyn was correct, he had only a few more weeks in which to return to his lands with his wife. Braden knew he needed to resolve this quickly. He did not have the luxury of time.
    “Do not make it one.” Orrick stood. “I must check out the battlements of the keep. Join me.”
    Braden finished the rest of his wine and stood. He followed Orrick through the keep, up several flights of steps until they reached the roof and battlements of the keep. The strong ocean winds buffeted him as they walked to the edge and looked out over the yard and village. They stood in silence for several minutes and Braden thought about how to answer the questions he knew would be asked.
    “I can see the anger and the urgency in your actions. Will you share with me the reason?”
    Braden let out a breath of exhaustion and frustration. He’d had no one in his life who could understand his burden. His father had never spoken two coherent words to him before his death. No uncle or male cousin had survived long enough to guide him in the quest to protect the family name. Could Orrick help?
    “Do you know my lands, Lord Orrick?”
    “Please use my given name. ’Tis another of my eccentricways.” Orrick laughed even as he admitted to it. “Wynwydd sounds Welsh.”
    “It is. My lands lie at the foot of the mountains that separate England from Wales. I am the last of my line, Orrick.”
    “Ah, the pressure to marry. I understand that well enough.”
    “I have my reasons, but I cannot disclose them to you.” He was simply not ready to trust a stranger with the story of his family’s weaknesses.
    “More importantly, have you disclosed them to the lady?”
    Braden walked a few paces away and looked over the stone wall to the yard. The chapel where the lady in question sat at this moment was below him.
    “Her fears are real, Braden. And they’ve given her a strange strength to be bold and daring. More than most women, and most men, in her situation. Think on it—she came up with a plan to disguise herself and make her own way to her sister’s village in Scotland. And, in spite of an unplanned illness, she nearly made it.”
    Orrick’s tone irritated him.
    “She disobeyed her parents. She ran from a legal betrothal. She lied before witnesses. And she has drawn you into it. I would not think to hear