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Hunter doubted Lord Reginald cared for him at all. He surely had not shown Hunter any special treatment those long, lonely years at his castle. He had equipped Hunter with horse and hauberk, had trained him in the art of fighting, and had demanded his best, accepting no less than perfection from him, never allowing Hunter to forget what a great privilege he had bestowed upon him. But he

had never praised Hunter or showed any pleasure in Hunter's accomplishments.

Hunter owed Lord Reginald his gratitude, his allegiance, but not his devotion. He would go to him, but if the man turned out to be his father, Hunter was uncertain he could grant Lord Reginald his forgiveness.

Yet he would give the man the benefit of the doubt, until he spoke with him.

"How long will you be gone?" Détra interrupted his thoughts and prolonged silence, probably tiring of waiting for him to speak.

"Hawkhaven is about twenty miles north of here; its lands border Windermere's. It should take me a day to journey there and one to return, and depending on what is needed of me, I should be away no longer than a sennight, mayhap less if I can help."

D
é
tra turned to accept a goblet of wine from his squire, not seeming particularly heartbroken at his imminent departure. He would think after what happened between them this day she would at least show some regret he had to go away. Could she want him to leave?

Hunter lifted his tankard to his mouth and gulped down the remaining ale, watching Détra quietly take a sip of her wine. When she lifted her gaze to him, the sadness there mollified him somewhat.

Still, he was uncertain of Détra
.
And even though their marriage was finally consummate
d
—
a
thrill ran down his spine at the memor
y
—
a
nd his possession of Windermere assured, leaving D
£
tra behind for an unforeseen time might not be the wisest decision.

What if in his absence someone revealed to his lady more than he wanted her to know? Hunter realized by hiding the truth from Détra he was risking much. However, if she knew the truth there would be no chance at all for them. He would cement their liaison first
,
make her
understand they belonged together, make love to her until it became a need only he could fulfill, and only then would he consider telling her the truth. Now it was too early, too soon for her to know. They had barely scratched the surface of their emotions.

Still, the thought of Détra spending time with Rupert was not an agreeable one. Rupert had spent his entire life trying to outdo Hunter. He could reveal a lot about Hunter to Détra.

Hunter wondered which one would be the greatest
ri
sk. Take Détra with him or leave her behind?

******************

ISABEL PICKED AT HER FOOD. THE TENSION
I
N HUNTER was evident in the way he squared his shoulders every so often, in his tight grip on the mug of beer in his hand, in the penetrating glances he shot her way as if trying to read her mind.

Considering he'd just received news of a friend's imminent death, his reaction was understandable.

At least she assumed Lord Reginald was a friend, though Hunter gave her no indication one way or the other. However, it was clear he was very bothered by the news.

What kind of role had Hunter's foster lord played in his life? Had he been a kind mentor or cruel persecutor? There had been pain in Hunter's voice when he spoke of having no father. Was his father dead or was there some issue that separated them?

So many questions she wanted to ask him, and yet his obvious reluctance with her other much less intrusive questions told her Hunter would be unwilling to speak in the presence of the mixed company at the great hall.

She couldn't fault him for that. Maybe later when they were alone in the privacy of their bedroom he'd open up
to her and she'd be able to offer him the comfort he needed.

But being alone with Hunter again was something Isabel longed for and dreaded at the same time. She'd resisted making love to him as long as she could, knowing that after sharing such intimate exchange of love with him, she wouldn't be able to return to her own life unchanged. But Hunter had worn out her resistance with his skillful touch, and his unselfish lovemaking had touched her heart.

When his wife returned to her body Hunter wouldn't know the difference, and hopefully Détra would understand Isabel had had no choice, but Isabel knew she would forever be haunted by the memory of them lying together, loving each other in that narrow bed in the soldier's quarters.

Damn her soul but she didn't want to leave Hunter, though she knew she must return Détra to her rightful place at her husband's side.

With the prospect of Hunter gone from the castle tomorrow and therefore the opportunity to search the war chest in his absence, which she was almost certain contained the magic chalice, Isabel would finally put an end to this.

Yet the mere thought of never seeing Hunter again tore at her heart. Tomorrow Hunter would be gone, and maybe she would also. Tonight would be their last night together, the only night they would spend together. If she were condemned to a mere memory of him for the rest of her life, she'd give herself and Hunter a night worth remembering.

AFTER dinner Isabel followed Hunter to their bedroom. Inside, the
f
ireplace was ablaze, the oil lamps afire on the wa
l
l, and lit candles spread out throughout the room. The nuances of light and shadow, the cool stone walls and fire warmth, and the open bed curtains invitingly created a magical atmosphere perfect for a romantic dalliance.

Had Hunter arranged this? Had he his own plans of seduction for tonight?

Isabel had seen him whispering with Maude at one time during dinner, and though she hadn't heard what they said, Maude had disappeared from the hall soon after.

"Maude will not be here to aid you this eve," Hunter said as if reading her mind.

Isabel spun around to find him inches away from her, the bedroom door firmly closed behind him.

"I shall care for your needs myself," he whispered as his hand encircled her waist.

Isabel had no doubt he would, as he'd done earlier in the barracks when his skillful touch had so consumed her with desire she had submitted to the inevitability of the moment.

Tonight she would be the initiator. She would make love to Hunter without thinking of the consequences. She would take care of his needs as we
l
l as hers, and perhaps in some small way leave a little piece of her with him when she left.

Gently peeling his hand from her waist, Isabel ignored the shadow that crossed his face. Soon her intentions would be clear to him and he wouldn't fear her rejection anymore.

"Perhaps tonight we may be of mutual assistance," she said, sprawling her palms over the impossible breadth of his chest, the heat of his skin searing her hands even through the fabric of his clothing, quickening her breath.

She gave him a light kiss on the lips, but when he wanted to deepen the kiss, she withdrew. "Earlier I allowed you to touch me as you wished," she said with a smile. "I demand the same rights now."

"A lady wife demanding
ri
ghts from her lord husband?" he asked in a teasing tone, the shadow disappearing from his face.

Relieve
d
—
t
he last thing Isabel wanted was for Hunter to lash out at her in mistaken ange
r
—
s
he teased him with another light kiss. "Does that bother you?" She slid her palms down his chest to the hard planes of his stomach, leaving no doubt of her intentions.

"It pleases me," he whispered. "Though I cannot suffer such torment without promising retribution."

"I am counting on that." Isabel lowered her hand even
further down and undid the sword belt that hung sideways to his left hip. The heavy sword fell to the floor with a loud clank, yet neither of them bothered with it.

Hunter opened his arms as if offering himself to her. "In that case, my lady wife, I am yours."

Tonight he would be! Isabel thought.

Trailing her hands sideways on his stomach, her left hand brushed over his growing arousal. Hunter drew in a sharp breath. Isabel continued to slide her hands down his hips and thighs, burrowing underneath the hem of his tunic. As she pulled the tunic up she had to stretch her body and point her toes to be able to pull the garment over Hunter's head, and her face ended up only inches from his. Their gazes met and held for a moment, his dark eyes burning like live coals, hers no doubt as flaming as his.

Isabel gave him another kiss short in duration but lacking no intensity, and men her feet found support on the solid ground again. She gathered the hem of his soft linen shirt, which found its way over his head and down on the floor to join the tunic already in a pile there.

Pausing in her undressing of Hunter, Isabel admired his muscled chest generously sprinkled with dark hair. She raked her fingers through the curly hair, reveling in its texture and warmth. She roughened his nipples to pebble hard with the palm of her hands, then kissed them, running her tongue over them, then blowing hot air on the wet surface.

The next moment Isabel found herself plastered against Hunter's body. Her swelling breasts pressed against his chest, stretching the fabric of her gown, eagerly anticipating the moment they would both be naked
,
skin touching skin, since they hadn't totally undressed when they'd first made love.

Hunter reached for the back lacing of her gown while they kissed. Then, moments later, he grunted in frustration
as the ties refused to give way. Isabel spun around in his arms, lifting her hair over her head and giving him free access to the back of her dress. He kissed her neck instead, momentarily forgetting about the lacing, as did she. Soon enough though, after a few impatient pulls, her gown hung loose on her body. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he forced the gown to fall in a heap of velvety fabric at her feet.

Dressed on
l
y in a thin chemise, Isabel stepped out of the gown and pivoted. Hunter's injured hand rested at the small of her back, while his other hand settled over her breast, kneading it. He bent over her and covered the nipple with his hot mouth, suckling it through the thin fabric of her chemise, then taking the nipple between his teeth. Isabel moaned, feeling the pool of desire gathering inside of her.

But he was taking control again of their lovemaking and this time she wanted to give him pleasure first.

With trembling hands Isabel worked on the drawstrings of Hunter's pants while she tried to keep some lucidity of mind as he played with her breasts. That, and knowing he wore nothing underneath, turned her usually dexterous fingers into all thumbs. Finally his pants fel
l
silently to the floor and she grabbed hold of his jutting arousal.

Hunter bucked as if burnt. He let go of her breasts momentarily, a look of doubt in his eyes.

What was he afraid of? A repetition of what happened in the war room?

To assuage any anxiety he might have, Isabel let go of him then stepped back and kicked her shoes off. She untied the lacing in front of her chemise, which opened invitingly, slowly lowering one sleeve down one shoulder, then the other. She pushed the fabric down to uncover the swell of her breasts, until a scrap of fabric caught her
nipple, scrapi
n
g it, sensitizing it beyond words, then spilling it free to Hunter's full view.

Hunter's mouth hung open as if he'd never seen his wife naked before. Then, with a groan, he hauled her flush against his body while his mouth took hungry possession of hers.