"I believed the risk was worth it," she replied. "It was an important paper to save. John's signature appears at the bottom, and his seal is affixed."

"He was a fool to put his name…"

"He believes he's invincible," she said. "And I think he knew Raulf wouldn't believe Williams without a written order. Time was important, though I'm not certain why, and surely that was the reason King John didn't summon Raulf to London and tell him what he wanted done."

"Where is the scroll?"

"I wrapped it in soft cotton cloths and hid it inside the altar of the chapel Raulf had just had built for the bishop. It's wedged between two marble squares."

Gabriel felt her shiver and tightened his hold on her.

"Do you know I almost destroyed it just before I was told Raulf was dead. Then I changed my mind."

"Why?"

"I wanted someone in future to find it and know the truth."

"I'm more interested in keeping you safe, Johanna. I will not allow you to talk to King John."

"I don't want war," she whispered.

She sounded close to tears. He kissed her forehead and demanded she quit worrying.

"I'll convince England's king to leave us alone."

She tried to argue with him. "You can't think to go to England?"

He didn't answer her. "It's late, Johanna, and time you went to sleep."

Exhaustion won. She decided she would have to wait until tomorrow to talk some sense into her husband. Of only one thing was she certain. She wasn't about to let him confront King John or Raulf without a foolproof plan in mind. She would demand he take at least a league of Highlanders with him.

Morning proved to be too late to demand her husband be reasonable. When Johanna dressed and went downstairs to find Gabriel, Nicholas gave her the news that he'd already left the holding.

She didn't become hysterical, but it took every bit of strength she possessed to control herself. She spent the day pacing and worrying. By dinnertime, her nerves were flayed.

Father MacKechnie sat at the head of the table at Johanna's insistence. She sat on the priest's right, next to Clare, and Nicholas took his seat across from her.

The thought of food turned Johanna's stomach. She could barely stand to watch anyone else eat. She didn't say a word until the trenchers had been cleared from the table.

"Nicholas, why did you let him go?" she cried out.

"Let him? Johanna, I made a sound argument, but your stubborn husband wouldn't listen."

She tried to calm down. "Then you, too, realize the jeopardy…"

Nicholas shook his head. "I didn't argue against his going. I tried to talk him into letting me go with him."

"He didn't take enough soldiers with him."

"He knows what he's doing," Nicholas defended.

"He hasn't had enough time to think of a plan. He can't go barging into John's court and demand a hearing."

Nicholas grinned. "Aye, he can," he replied. "Your husband can be very persuasive when he wants to. He'll get his audience all right."

"You should have gone, Nicholas," Clare blurted out. "You're a baron. Your king would have listened to you."

Nicholas turned his attention to the beautiful woman frowning at him with such obvious indignation.

"That was my argument," he told her.

Johanna shook her head. "Only Gabriel can make the king listen to reason," she said.

Nicholas leaned back on his stool. "Why is that, Johanna?"

She was immediately sorry she'd made the remark. "Because he's my husband," she replied. "Besides, last night you said you had already tried to talk to John and he wouldn't listen to you."

"I still should have gone with him," her brother said.

"Why didn't you?" Clare asked.

"He asked me to stay here," he answered. "Gabriel made me responsible for you, Johanna, and he's going to be damned unhappy when he comes back and finds you've made yourself ill with your worry."

"If he comes back," Johanna whispered.

"You shame Gabriel by making such comments," Nicholas said. "You should have confidence in his ability."

Johanna burst into tears. Father MacKechnie dropped the piece of bread he'd been nibbling on and reached over to pat Johanna's shoulder.

"There, there, lass. It's going to be all right."

While the priest tried to comfort his mistress, Clare attacked Nicholas with a defense of Johanna's conduct.

"She loves her husband," she cried out. "How dare you criticize her? She's worried about his safety, and she certainly doesn't need you to make her feel guilty or ashamed!"

Clare was shouting by the time she finished her speech.

She'd bounded to her feet and folded her arms across her chest while she glared at Nicholas.

He showed no reaction to her behavior or her words. In truth, he wasn't offended. Nay, he found Clare's defense of Johanna admirable.

"How did you become so loyal to my sister in such a short time?" His voice was kind and soothing. The bluster seemed to leave her all at once. She collapsed back onto her stool, straightened her plaid across her shoulder, brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and then looked at Nicholas again.

He was smiling at her. He was a handsome man, she thought to herself, and the look of tenderness in his eyes made her fed warm inside. She shook her head against such thoughts and tried to remember his question.

"Your sister saved my life."

Johanna mopped at her eyes, thanked the priest for his concern, and then turned to Clare.

"You saved yourself, Clare."

"You had a hand in it," Father MacKechnie announced.

Alex appeared at the entrance. He was hopping from one foot to the other while he waited to get some attention.

Johanna spotted her son and immediately excused herself from the table. "I must tuck him in," she explained.

"Will you come back down?" Clare asked.

"I'm very weary tonight," Johanna answered. "I believe I'll go to bed."

"I'll go up with you," Clare announced. She stood up, bowed to the priest, and then turned to Nicholas. "I didn't mean to shout at you."

Nicholas had stood up when his sister did. Clare walked around the end of the table to leave the hall but stopped when she reached his side.

He towered over her. She tilted her head back so she could look into his eyes. They were beautiful, she thought to herself… for an Englishman.

"I have apologized, Baron. Have you nothing to say in return?"

"And catch hell again? You seem to take exception to everything I say, Clare MacKay."

"I haven't," she defended.

He grinned. Father MacKechnie snorted with his laughter. "He's got you now, lass. You just proved him right."

Clare didn't know if Nicholas was jesting with her or not. She could feel herself blushing and didn't understand why. She certainly hadn't done anything to feel embarrassed about.

She decided she'd wasted enough time trying to understand the strange Englishman. She turned to the priest, bid him good night, and then muttered the same to Nicholas.

"Sleep well, Clare."

The caress in his voice shook her. She glanced up to look at him.

He winked at her.

She didn't run out of the hall. She walked at a ladylike pace. She didn't smile until she reached the entrance. Then she smiled all the way up the stairs. She did a lot of sighing, too. Baron Nicholas was a thoroughly unacceptable man, and heaven help her, she was beginning to like him.

Nicholas watched her leave the hall. Father MacKechnie asked him to sit back down, "Don't leave just yet. Share some brew with me. None of us is going to get much sleep tonight, worrying as we are."

Nicholas reached for the jug and poured a drink into the priest's goblet.

"Clare intrigues me," he remarked.

"Of course she does," Father MacKechnie agreed. "She's a bonny lass, isn't she now?"

Nicholas nodded. "Were you here when she arrived?"