They opened the castle gates at dawn and Sir Edwulf’s men marched in.
The castellan stood in the open doorway, his head bowed and his sword on the ground at his feet. He lifted sorrowful eyes.
“My lady is within.”
Edwulf dismounted and brushed past the man.
The lady’s titian hair was unbound, and her gown draped loosely across her burgeoning belly. Edwulf crossed the room with impatient strides, grasping her chin in one gauntleted hand.
“Mine?” he demanded. “Or his?”
“If you doubt me you can count.”
“I will.”
He bent to her mouth and she bit his lip…
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