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thoughts as if only yesterday. He’d hugged her and bid her farewell, and she had prayed for his safe return. Cate never saw her father again.
    “When he did not return, I left home in search of him. I didn’t make it far before hearing of his death. I was told the King lied and issued a decree that all rebels were to be hunted down . Royal forces scoured the villages. Possession of a charter became a death sentence. My father held the charter for our village, even though he was not involved in the proceedings — the storming of the Tower and the beheading of the Archbishop and Lord Chancellor. Before I could return home to warn them, Richard’s army swarmed through Kent. People, good God fearing people, swung from the gallows. Women and children… anyone they could get their hands on. Kent lost nearly fifteen hundred.”
    “My God,” breathed Owen.
    Cate inhaled deeply, the wounds still fresh to her memory. “I have heard upwards of five hundred in Essex.”
    Owen was surprisingly quiet. Perhaps the shock of it all was overwhelming, but he was rooted in London. Had he not heard of the uprisings? Of all the killings? Surely he had dealings with the peasant uprisings around the city. “Your father is Captain of the King’s Guard. Were you not involved as he was?”
    The silence between them was deafening, and the fact that Owen wouldn’t answer her was unsettling.
    She continued. “I have been searching for my father’s killer for nearly a month. I will not rest until the bastard has succumbed to proper justice by my own hand. It matters not to me if I lose my own life… I will see it finished.” A fueled hate for the unknown murderer simmered in her gut.
    “I am truly sorry for the loss of your father, but you cannot travel around the wood just killing everyone you cross paths with.”
    Cate snorted a stifled laugh. “I have just cause… the people who still reside here in the countryside. Someone needs to protect them. Who will stand up for them if not me? The sheriff?” She released the laugh. “He abandoned us long ago. A nobleman has no business being south of Bedgebury. And the tax collectors? They still come to steal what little coin the people have left. If they are lucky enough to escape with their lives after I’m through with them, they gladly hand over what they have in their purse. I consider it a gift. A reimbursement for our troubles and hardships.” Cate kicked at the earth with the heel of her boot.
    “You are unlike any other woman I have met, Cate Archer.” Owen released a sigh and repositioned himself on the bed of pine.
    Not knowing what had come over her, Cate was content to speak, although it was a one-sided conversation. The release of tension was exhilarating. “Tell me about your father, Owen Grey, Viscount of Banebridge.” She drawled out the words, enunciating his title in a teasing manor, hoping it would convince him to engage in the conversation.
    “My father…” Owen seemed to contemplate the request as if he would surely be punished for simply thinking of it. “As I spoke earlier, my father is a complicated man. He is hard, cold, and not one to be questioned.”
    “Are you his only son? My father was not blessed with any sons… there is only me. I think I would have enjoyed the company of a brother.”
    “No, I am the second son. My older brother died from a sickness that took to his lungs when I was just a lad. My father was heartbroken.”
    “That must have been a terrible burden to bear.”
    “I only learned of the existence of my brother when my father came to fetch me. Seeing as my brother had died, that left my father without an heir. Being an earl, he must have an heir.”
    “Fetch you? I do not understand.” Cate’s brow furrowed as she listened intently.
    “You see, my father carried on with the washerwoman… an Irish immigrant who worked in his household. She is my true birth mother, but when my brother died, I was young enough for my father to