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with a bow, for she sometimes joined them in practice against straw men, with the result that his youngest thane, Jacob, had fallen quite hopelessly in love with her. So. She could shoot an arrow. Robert himself carried a spear and a sword. She would be safe. Not that she was any particular concern of his. He wanted the entire hunting party to be safe, even Elizabeth.
    He turned his shoulder on Imma again just as a red deer burst from cover, darting across the open field in front of them. It had not been their quarry, but no matter. Venison was as welcome as boar at a winter table. At Robert’s command, his horse surged forward. He leaned over the animal’s neck as they gave pursuit, the pleasure of the hunt humming in his veins. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Imma near him on her hunter, bow in one hand, reins in the other, plait of black hair flying behind her, all of her attention focused on the chase.
    The buck paused at a ridge. Robert, several lengths ahead of Imma, loosed his spear without slowing his horse. Imma had yielded the first attempt to him, as befitted his status as lord of these lands, but hard on the heels of his throw, her arrow whistled by him. He did not flinch, for he knew he was not in any danger of an errant shot from Imma. Her arrow hit home a moment after his spear.
    The deer stumbled and fell as he and Imma galloped forward, the rest of the party close behind them. Pulling his horse up, Robert dismounted quickly to finish the deer with his knife.
    “That was wonderful,” Imma said. He looked up from where he bent over his task to see that she had dismounted and followed him, her eyes bright, her grin wide and friendly, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He crouched there, his knife bloodied, unable to look away from her. Her eyes widened as she kept his gaze; undoubtedly she could see the heat in his eyes. The air sparked between them and she stood perfectly still, as if she dared not trigger his predatory instinct.
    A fist crushed his lungs. Did she guess how he felt? How he admired her? She rode like a Valkyrie, and she hunted like a falcon. She had more secret treasures than a ring-giver, and if his retinue had not been five paces away, he would have kissed her right there.
    He did not trust himself to speak. He nodded and turned away to order his hunting-thane master to direct the field butchering.

Chapter Six
    In the morning, Imma walked across the snow-covered field toward the stable, for her now-daily ride. Partway there, she heard the sound of the Welsh tongue and stopped in her tracks. She turned to see who was speaking.
    A broad-shouldered man was working on the wheel of a cart that had gotten bogged down. A boy standing at the horse’s head shouted encouragement to him.
    She could not help herself, but smiled and called out a greeting. The man stopped what he was doing and stared, then after an interval that made Imma feel unaccountably awkward, dipped his head in acknowledgment. She stepped forward and said, “I didn’t realize there were other Welsh here.” Given how Elizabeth and the other members of Lord Robert’s household despised them, she was surprised to see any of her countrymen employed here.
    The man answered her warily. In that moment, she realized he was not employed here. He was a slave, and his son, too.
    All of her anger against the English flamed in her veins as she moved past the two. It was this her uncle fought against. This he had sent her to heal — and she could not. She did not think another marriage to another piggish English lord in the spring would make any difference. Yet she must do it, and sacrifice what she might want to ensure it. Knowing in the end it would not matter, for when had women ever made peace when men could not?
    “Shall I ride with you, my lady?” Jacob smiled up at her as she entered the stable.
    She dragged her attention from the Welshman and his son and her unhappy thoughts of duty. Jacob no doubt wanted