could heal.'
She didn't want him to be optimistic. She wanted him to feel guilty. She took a protective step toward her brother. 'You might have been the one who did this to Justin.'
'Yes.'
His easy acceptance of such a foul deed took her breath away. 'You feel no remorse?'
He gave her a look that suggested she'd lost her mind. 'Remorse has no place in a warrior's mind.'
He could tell from her expression she didn't understand what he was saying. He patiently explained. 'A war is like a game of chess, Nicholaa. Every battle is like a well-thought-out move on the board. Once it begins, there shouldn't be any emotion involved whatsoever.'
'So if you did, in fact, injure my brother-'
'That's highly doubtful,' he interrupted.
'Why?'
'That isn't how I fight.'
He wasn't making any sense to her. 'Oh? What is it you do when you go into battle if you don't injure your enemies?'
He let out a sigh. 'I kill them.'
She tried not to let him know how appalled she was. The man acted as though they were discussing the week's mass schedule, for all the emotion in his voice. His callous attitude made her stomach burn.
'Your brother was injured near Hastings and not in the north as I was informed?' he asked, drawing her attention again.
'No, Justin wasn't in the battle near Hastings,' she answered. 'He was felled at Stamford Bridge.'
Royce couldn't contain his exasperation. The confused woman had her enemies mixed up in her mind. 'I'm Norman, Nicholaa, or have you forgotten that fact?'
'Of course not.'
'The battle at Stanford Bridge in the north was waged by the king of Norway and his soldiers. We Normans weren't even there.' He took a step closer to her. 'And so, whether you wish it to be so or not, I couldn't have injured your brother.'
'I didn't wish it,' she blurted out.
Royce didn't know what to say to that. He considered himself an excellent judge of his opponent's reactions. Yet now he doubted his own ability. God's truth, she looked relieved. That didn't make any sense to him at all. Why would it matter to her if he had or hadn't injured her brother?
'You look relieved.'
She nodded. 'I am… pleased to know it wasn't you,' she admitted. She turned her gaze to the floor. 'And I apologize to you for jumping to the wrong conclusion.'
He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. 'You what?'
'I apologize,' she muttered.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of this illogical conversation.
'If it had been you, I would have had to retaliate, wouldn't I? I'm all Justin has left, Baron. It has become my duty to protect him.'
'You're a woman.'
'I'm his sister.'
Nicholaa rubbed her arms, for it seemed that the room had suddenly become frigid. God, she was tired. She'd been cold for so long, and so exhausted she could barely form a coherent thought.
'I don't like this war,' she whispered. 'Men do, though, don't they? They like to fight.'
'Some do,' he acknowledged, his voice brusque in reaction to his sudden urge to take Nicholaa into his arms. Lord, she looked fragile. He could only imagine the hell she'd been through since the invasion. He found it admirable that she would try to protect her brother, even though it was quite ridiculous for her to think she could.
From the whispers he'd heard about her, he realized he shouldn't have expected less. 'Do you know, Nicholaa, that you've become a legend among the Norman soldiers?'
That announcement gained her full attention and caught her curiosity. 'Only the dead become legends,' she countered. 'Not the living.'
'If that's true, you're an exception,' he said. 'You did lead the defense against the first three challengers Duke William sent to secure your holding, didn't you?'
She shrugged. 'Your leader sent children to try to steal my home. I merely sent them back.'
'Even so,' he argued, 'there-'
She interrupted him. 'My brother's soldiers were under my direction, yes, but only after the first-in-command was forced to leave.'
'Who is this soldier and where is he now?'
'His name is John,' she answered, 'and he left for the north.' She folded her arms in front of her and turned to look down at her brother. 'You'll never catch him. He's far too clever for the likes of you.'
'He sounds like a coward. He left you unprotected.'
'I ordered him to leave. John isn't a coward. Besides, I can take care of myself, Baron. I can even get away from tiresome Normans when I want to.'
He ignored that barb. 'A Norman would never have left a woman in charge.'
She shook her head. She knew she couldn't defend John now. In her heart, she thought her brother's loyal vassal was one of the most courageous men she'd ever known. Against terrible odds, he had brought little Ulric to her. Her brother Thurston had ordered John to deliver his son to Nicholaa for safekeeping until the war was finished. James, the Saxon traitor, would have no knowledge about the baby, and neither, Nicholaa reasoned, would the Normans. It was a pity that Nicholaa couldn't boast of John's courage now. Little Ulric's safety came first. As far as the Normans were concerned, Ulric was simply the child of one of the servants.
Royce watched the play of emotions cross her face and wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. He didn't like the way she defended the soldier who'd left her to survive on her own with but a small contingent of men to offer protection, but he decided to put that topic aside for now.
'You showed cleverness when you disguised yourself as a nun. My soldiers were taken in.'
She noticed he hadn't included himself in that admission. Did he refuse to confess that he'd also been fooled? 'Your soldiers are also little boys,' she said. ' 'Tis yet another reason you'll be defeated, Baron.'
'Most of my soldiers are older than you.'
'Then they're ignorant.'
'Untrained, not ignorant,' he corrected. 'The skilled soldiers were needed for more important work.'
He was being honest with her, but the look on her face indicated she was insulted by the truth. She turned her back on him in an attempt to dismiss him.
He wasn't ready to be dismissed. 'I would warn you, Nicholaa, that being clever isn't going to aid your cause. The journey to London will be difficult at best, and the time we're forced to spend together will be tolerable for you only if you behave.'
She refused to turn around. There was fire in her voice when she spoke again. 'My God, you are an arrogant man. I've been given sanctuary here and even unholy Normans cannot break that law. I won't leave.'
'You will.'
She let out a gasp and turned to confront him. 'You would violate the right of sanctuary?'
'No, but you will walk outside these walls when the time comes.'
A shiver of fear rushed down Nicholaa's spine. What weapon could he use against her? Her mind jumped from one possibility to another, and after a long minute she concluded that he was bluffing. There wasn't a thing he could do to force her to leave her safe haven.
The rush of relief made her eyes fill with tears.
He smiled.
Her composure vanished. She completely forgot she was standing in a sickroom. She certainly wouldn't have shouted at the barbarian otherwise.
'As long as Normans are in England, I'll never leave here. Never!'
