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“Aye, whore, a lord.”

He didn’t look down at her, but smirked at me.

“Your husband. Your incompetent farmer with the soft hands and the good manners. He quarreled with his father over God knows what—a woman, a debt, his own damned pride—and rode off to prove he could make his own way with a plough.”

A short, cruel laugh.

“He couldn’t. He died in a ditch of a fever and you buried him, and you never asked.”

“I asked.” Her voice was a scrape against my heart. “He would not⁠—”

“He’d not tell you, no. He was ashamed.”

John’s thumb moved on the knife handle and I tried not to react, even as I tensed, prepared to leap.

“But he named the boy, didn’t he? Ewan. After the old man himself. That’s the one bit of his family the fool couldn’t put down.”

Her brows drew together, and Cataline began to shake her head before remembering the knife. Through the Bond it came as a hazy confusion, and under the confusion, grief, and under that, a low burn of fury that made my Kteer lift its head in something like approval.

Aye, my stubborn Mate. Stay angry.

I had not liked the feel of her acceptance.

“The baron’s still strong, and Richard’s other brothers all married and bred. But he’s keen enough to know he can never be too certain, so he’s put out the word looking for Richard.”

He shook Cataline slightly.

“If I’d known who the brat’s grandfather was, I would’ve forced you to marry me right after Richard’s death.”

Cataline scowled, and I had to fight the sudden urge to smile.

“So, this is all about greed, eh?” I said, and realized the flippancy had been a mistake when John’s expression shifted to rage.

He shifted his hold on the knife, causing Cataline to tip her head higher to avoid being cut.

“You can call it greed, orc,” he spat, “but the baron will not only pay good coin to know what happened to his son, but learn about his grandson. And when I deliver the lad to him as his loving stepfather, the old man will cover me in gold. After all, I’ll have to insist on staying in his household to watch over the lad, eh?”

Well, fook.

‘Twas…’twas a good plan. I saw Cataline roll her eyes, and my lips twitched again, knowing she likely felt my response as well as I could feel hers.

“So that’s why ye need to wed Cataline legally in yer world?”

John made a little gesture with two of his fingers and behind him, the two men began to drift apart. I reached out with my senses and was relieved to hear my own warriors creeping through the trees at my back.

I would have the support my brother, as chief, had promised. But I had to get Cataline to safety.

“That was the plan, aye.”

Then John shrugged and the knife shrugged with him, and another bead of blood slid down my Mate’s throat.

“Though I’ve had a month to think on it, and I’ve concluded I don’t need her at all. Widower’s a cleaner story. She died of exhaustion, poor creature, and the grieving husband brings the lad home.”

My stubborn little firebrand stiffened.

“Ye’ll not touch him.”

“Hush, whore, the men are talking.”