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she knew about him. Bowing to the wisdom of his advice, she allowed one of the kitchen girls to wash the cuts as she studied the dark knight. At close range, Kathryn realized he might be considered handsome if he would allow his features to soften. The lilt of the highlands colored his voice when he wasn’t angry.
    His long wavy hair was parted in the middle, drawn back and secured with a leather lace. Not so much as a single hair dared to defy him by falling forward over his wide forehead. The only imperfection she could see was a hawklike nose that had obviously been broken at least once.
    God had indeed chosen well—formidable, unapproachable— this warrior was an ideal champion. She would be safe in his care. But would he leave Homelea intact?
    The servant finished tending Kathryn’s injury and departed. Kathryn realized the man was talking and dragged her attention back to what he was saying.
    â€œ. . . you have suffered a terrible loss in the death of your father. Let me assure you, my king will see to your well being.”
    After a maid placed refreshments in front of them, Sir Bryan continued. “As you may know, several lowland chieftains and members of the nobility, including your father, have refused to align themselves with the crown of Scotland.”
    â€œMy father had personal and business connections with England,” she replied stiffly.
    The knight tore off a piece of bread and chewed it. “Your father declared for England to save his English lands.”
    â€œApparently, Papa expected England to succeed in the current conflict.”
    â€œAye, and with such loyal retainers as the Earl of Homelea, Scotland’s cause is jeopardized.”
    She could see his disdain for her father written in the hardness of his gaze. His accusation stung, though she knew it to be true. “My father is dead, sir. Am I to be held accountable for his actions?”
    â€œIn truth, lady, your allegiance will be decided by your husband.”
    â€œI do not wish to marry, my laird.”
    â€œIndeed.”
    He stared at her, and his ability to hide his emotions vexed her. How was she to deal with someone whose expression remained so stoic? Was he incapable of feeling or had he built a wall around his emotions to protect himself? And if so, why? An altogether intriguing man.
    Her father’s favorite hunting hound rose from under the table and laid its head on the warrior’s thigh. Kathryn gently scolded, “Off with you, Maggie.”
    But the dog ignored her, and the man idly petted the beast’s head, gently fondling the ears. “How do you plan to hold Homelea without a husband?” he asked as he slipped a morsel of cheese to the now devoted hound.
    â€œPerhaps the king would appoint Fergus as castellan to see to the estate’s affairs.”
    â€œAnd allow you to remain unmarried? Not likely.”
    The dog licked his hand clean; was that a smile she spied on Black Bryan’s face? He was smiling at the dog? Kathryn stared at the way the smile transformed his face and instinctively raised a hand to cover her heart.
    He patted Maggie’s head, and by the time his gaze reached Kathryn’s, the smile had disappeared and the stoic warrior had returned. Kathryn’s hand dropped to her lap. “I would be happy to spend my days at the abbey at St. Mary’s.”
    â€œYou would take the veil?”
    â€œNo, simply live there in peace.” Until Isobel was safely grown and married. Or Rodney was dead.
    Sir Bryan took a drink and wiped a hand across his mouth. “’Tis more likely the king will reward some deserving fellow with your wealth and person.” His gaze roved over her, and she felt herself blush.
    Kathryn sat in stony silence. The man’s frank appraisal reminded her she was powerless to affect her own future. In such discussions, her wishes would not be considered.
    Black Bryan’s lips softened into what Kathryn was