The glow from within the black tent told Hugh that Alice had lit a brazier for warmth and a candle for light. He eased aside the flap and stood quietly in the opening. Alice did not hear him enter. She was seated on a small, folding stool, the only one that had been brought on the journey.

Alice had her back to him. The line of her spine was graceful and achingly feminine. Her head was bent intently over an object cradled in her lap.

The dark, burnished copper of her hair was bound up in a net. It glowed more richly than the coals in the brazier. Her skirts flowed in elegant folds around the legs of the stool.

His betrothed wife. Hugh drew in a deep breath as a wave of sharp desire crashed through him. His fingers tightened around the flap of the tent. He wanted her.

For a moment all he could think about was his startled reaction earlier that day when Alice had thrown herself into his arms. His emotions at the time had teetered on some unseen brink. He had been torn between rage at the risk she had taken and a gut-wrenching realization that she had almost gotten herself killed. He had very nearly lost her.

The sense of possessiveness that seized him made his hand tremble.

As though she had sensed his presence, Alice suddenly turned her head to gaze at him. She blinked and Hugh could almost see the thoughts in her head shift from one subject to another. Then she smiled at him and Hugh had to close his hand into a fist to keep from reaching for her.

"My lord. I did not hear you come in."

"You were obviously concerned with other matters." Hugh called forth every shred of self-mastery that he could claim. Deliberately he let the tent flap fall closed behind him.

"Aye, my lord."

He walked across the tent carpet and looked down at the object in her lap. "Still studying my crystal, I see."

"I am still studying my crystal, sir." She stroked the heavily faceted green stone with her fingertip. "I am attempting to comprehend why Gilbert the troubadour and those two thieves thought it so valuable."

"We won't learn much from the troubadour. Gilbert has vanished." Learning of the troubadour's disappearance had been yet another source of annoyance that day. Nothing seemed to be going right, Hugh thought morosely.

"I'm not surprised," Alice said. "There was something quite oily about Gilbert. I never cared much for him or his songs."

Hugh watched her face in the candlelight. "I'm told that women find him attractive."

Alice gave a ladylike snort. "I certainly did not. He tried to steal a kiss one evening while he was staying in my uncle's hall."

"Did he, indeed?" Hugh asked softly.

"Aye. It was most annoying. I dumped a mug of ale on his head. He did not speak to me after that."

"I see."

Alice looked up. "Did you learn anything from the one-eyed thief?"

"Very little." There was no point searching for a second stool. Hugh sat down on one of the heavy wooden chests that contained Alice's collection of stones. "He talked freely enough, but he knew only that his companion had made a bargain with someone to recover the crystal. I believe that the one-eyed man and his associate killed the peddler in Clydemere."

"Oh." Alice's voice sounded a bit unsteady.

"Unfortunately, the man who went down beneath Storm's hooves was the one who actually struck the bargain. He is dead and therefore can tell us nothing."

"I see."

Hugh narrowed his eyes. "Those two men would have murdered you without so much as a second thought."

She gave him a brilliant smile. "But you saved me, sir."

"That is not the point I wish to make."

She grimaced. "I know what point it is you wish to make, my lord. But look at the positive side. One of the murderers is dead and the other is in the sheriff's safekeeping. We are both safe and the stone has been recovered."

"You're forgetting one thing."

"What is that?"

"Whoever hired those two men to find the crystal is still out there somewhere and we have no clue to his identity."

Alice's fingers tightened around the crystal. "But whoever it is must know that his attempts to steal the stone have failed. It is back in your hands now, my lord. No one would dare to try to take it from you."

"I appreciate your confidence," Hugh muttered, "but I don't think we should assume that all potential thieves will have the same faith in my skills."

"Nonsense. My uncle assured me that you are well nigh a legend, sir."

"Alice, I regret to inform you that what constitutes a legend in out-of-the-way places such as Lingwood Manor or Ipstoke amounts to no more than a moderate reputation elsewhere."

"I do not believe that for one moment, sir," she said with a wholly unexpected show of loyalty. "I saw the way you dealt with those thieves today. When that tale gets back to the one who hired them, he will most certainly think twice before making any more attempts to take the stone. I am certain that we have seen the last of his handiwork."

"Alice—"

She tapped the crystal with her forefinger. Her brows snapped together in a contemplative expression. "Do you know, sir, I would very much like to find out why someone stole this stone in the first place."

Hugh's attention was briefly caught by the ugly crystal. " 'Tis possible, I suppose, that someone mistakenly believes it to be a valuable gem. It is, after all, said to be the last of a great treasure."

She eyed the stone with evident skepticism. "To judge by the low price he placed upon it, the peddler who sold it to my cousin Gervase certainly did not think it valuable. He believed it to be merely an unusual object. A trinket of interest only to a student of natural philosophy."

"I suspect that the thief was motivated by a belief that the stone had a far different sort of value."

Alice looked up sharply. "What sort of value is that, sir?"

"I told you that possession of the crystal is linked by a legend and a curse to the lordship of Scarcliffe."

"Aye. What of it?"

Hugh shrugged. "Mayhap there is someone who does not wish me to become the new lord of Scarcliffe."

"Who would that be, sir?"

Hugh absently drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Mayhap 'tis past time that I told you about Vincent of Rivenhall."

"The man you sought to go against in the jousts today? My brother told me that you were most annoyed because you were obliged to miss the contest. Indeed, I am well aware that it was my fault you found it necessary to forgo the joust."

"Aye. It was."

She gave him a dazzling smile. "But in the end you must admit that regaining the stone was the important thing, my lord. And we have done that, have we not? All is well, so we can forget about the unfortunate incidents of the recent past."

Hugh reluctantly decided that it was time to deliver his little lecture on obedience. "It is not my way to forget unfortunate incidents, as you term them, madam. Indeed, it is my belief that one must use such events to teach firm lessons."

"Never fear, sir, I have certainly learned mine," she assured him cheerfully.

"I wish I could believe that," Hugh said. "But something tells me—"

"Hush." Alice held up a hand to silence him. "What is that?"

Hugh scowled. "What is what?"

"Some troubadour is singing a ballad. Listen. I believe it is about you, my lord."

The words of a song sung in a lusty masculine voice floated into the black tent.

"The knight called Relentless was fearless

'tis said.

But I tell you today from Sir Vincent

he fled."

"Aye, 'tis about me," Hugh growled. Vincent had found a way to have his revenge, he thought. Such was the price one paid when one got oneself betrothed to a woman such as Alice.

Alice set down the stone and leaped to her feet. "Some drunken troubadour is slandering you, my lord."