Wonderful by Jill Barnett

was thinking. He looked straight ahead, then said, “It was foolish to leave the protection of the convent.”
    “’Twas not too far to travel.”
    “The traveling distance was not my concern.”
    “Apparently neither was my existence for two years.” She looked as if the words had slipped out before she could stop them.
    For the longest time he said nothing, but instead only watched her, almost trying to look inside her head. She was silent, too, but averted her eyes as if she did not want to give him a chance see what she was thinking.
    “You are peevish because I did not come and wed you as agreed.”
    She didn’t respond, just continued to walk beside him as if he had not spoken.
    “You are too quiet. Have you nothing to say?”
    “I have said enough.”
    “I don’t think you’ve said half of what you wished to say to me.”
    “’Tis over and done now.” Her tone was clipped.
    “Aye. It is. There is no going back. I cannot change what has happened.”
    “I know that.” She couldn’t hide her annoyance and it looked as if she was not even trying to. She sounded impatient and snappish. She did not understand.
    He knew enough to know she wanted him to respond, even if she did not realize it. Deep down inside of her she wanted him to know that she was angry. “I am a man of war, Clio.”
    She met his look when he spoke her name.
    “I have been a knight for a long time, almost fifteen years. Before that I was fostered and trained to be a warrior. It is the only way I know. I obey my liege lord, my king, in all things. He came first. It is a matter of honor. Had I not been there, he would not be alive today. Likewise had he not been there, I’d have rotted in some desert hell and you’d be betrothed to nothing but a pile of bleached bones.”
    He made certain that he did not sound angry, or sorry. He wanted it plain from his tone he was not apologizing or trying to make her understand.
    He was not placating her. He spoke to her the same way he spoke to his men and to the servants—a matter-of-fact way that allowed for no argument, but said that this was the way things were.
    She seemed to accept his words, because she nodded, but within a moment she had lapsed back into that same awkward silence.
    He stared down at the top of her head with that ugly headdress. “I do have news I believe you will find welcome. Edward has given me license to crenellate Camrose.”
    She stopped and looked up at him and frowned in puzzlement.
    “It means I am to refurbish the castle. Along with the license comes a rich allotment to pay for the changes.”
    “You mean the king gave you money to restore and rebuild Camrose?”
    “Aye.”
    Her manner changed so quickly he had to look twice. She no longer trudged toward the wooden bridge as if she were carrying the sins of the world. Her step was light and she stood a little straighter as she walked beside him.
    But it was her face that made him almost have to look away. Joy and relief and something he could not name shone from her.
    He’d never seen the like, and it struck him odd that things could change so quickly between them. He continued to watch her, stunned. And leery because he could barely believe his eyes.
    To think he’d thought her plain in the daylight.
    Her smile was the daylight.
    Amid his confusion something touched him deeply, the idea that he could make her smile like that, a smile he found he was not immune to.
    She became pensive a moment later, this changeling of a woman. His first thought after he’d watched her expression of wonder fade was that he would like to see her smile at him again.
    They crossed the wooden bridge and he stopped and inspected the wooden planks. “Here is something that must be replaced. See there?” He pointed to the places where the wood was cracked and split. “The bridge needs to be stronger. I will replace it with strong stone blocks cemented with lime or perhaps build a wooden drawbridge and reinforce it with