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of battle clear in his eyes.

A twig snapped, and Gareth looked up immediately from his solemn concentration on the flames. He seemed remarkably unsurprised at seeing Robert. Instead, his face registered only a strange, melancholy acceptance.

Robert opened his mouth to speak and was mildly stunned when Gareth lifted a hand to hush him. Gareth stood up in one easy, catlike move and motioned Robert over to a group of trees just in view of the fire.

Robert’s brows rose, but he followed.

He crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “Well, I hope your explanation for ignoring my instructions is good,” he said, his voice vibrating with his irritation.

Gareth smiled winningly. “I must admit to quite liking it. I think it might be one of my better efforts.”

Robert remained stonily silent, refusing to be cajoled. He wanted answers.

Gareth let out a deep sigh. “Actually, I think that, technically, I haven’t actually disobeyed you.”

Robert’s eyes widened, disbelief patent on his face. “I believe I asked you to protect my home. I don’t remember mentioning that you could go and play in the woods if you felt like it. Of course it is entirely possible that I’m wrong,” he said sardonically.

“You are, as it happens,” Gareth said with a small smile. “You actually asked me to keep Imogen safe, and that is exactly what I’m doing.”

“Imogen?” Robert asked dangerously, not quite liking something about the way Gareth said his wife’s name. “Explain yourself.”

Gareth smiled properly for the first time, totally unintimidated by Robert’s open jealousy. “Easy done. That bundle of rags on the rock is your wife and I’m gallantly keeping this wet wood alight in a vain attempt to stop us all from dying from exposure while she takes a well-needed rest.”

“You dare jest,” Robert shouted, but found his eyes eagerly turning to the bundle anyway. At first he could barely discern any kind of human form under the rags, much less identify it as Imogen. It was only when she, disturbed by the shouting, stirred restlessly in her sleep, spilling her hair over the rough edges of the rock, that he recognized her. No other person alive could have hair like that, Robert thought reverently, the air suddenly trapped in his lungs.

“How the hell did she get out here?” he hissed.

Gareth shrugged his shoulders with deceptive casualness. “Apparently, the allure of your own sorry hide was so great that she decided to give both you and the tower a personal visit.” His voice dropped, as he smiled fondly at her. “She was so determined to get to you that she walked herself into exhaustion because you and your men had taken the only decent horses.”

Robert turned from the tempting sight of Imogen sleeping, just in time to catch the look of open admiration on Gareth’s face.

Something started a slow burn in Robert’s gut, a something that felt disconcertingly like jealousy. His eyes narrowed again. “You mean you have dragged my lady wife halfway across the country in winter, unchaperoned.” He wasn’t even really sure which was the point of protest, but he’d be damned if he’d try to make sense of it. Gareth had just better come up with the right answer.

“Oh, it all sounds so salacious when you put it like that,” Gareth said with a mock leer, enjoying deliberately baiting Robert.

“Well, it better only sound salacious,” Robert muttered, his fists clenching ominously.

Gareth sighed theatrically. “Sadly, if you look a little to your left you will notice the second bundle of rags less discerningly curled up in the snow. That was, and is, our chaperone.”

Robert walked directly over to the previously unnoticed second sleeping form, finding himself not quite trusting Gareth for the first time in their long acquaintance. His brow rose. “Lucas?”

Again Gareth shrugged his shoulders. “Best I could do, I am afraid.”

“What’s wrong with him? He looks a little pale.”

“You should have seen him a couple of hours ago; he was as green as grass. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Gareth looked dispassionately down at Lucas. “As to what is wrong with him, greed is his complaint. He ate too much and is suffering the rather colorful consequences.”

Robert walked over to the fire, staring blindly into its depths as he thought, his mind full of the knowledge that she had come to find him.

“It is nearly dusk,” Robert said softly so as not to wake the sleepers. “You can take the child and head back to the Keep.”

Gareth grimaced. “Nothing like ending a long, cold day by being thrown up on,” he said wryly. “And while I’m facing such grave danger, what will you be doing?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Robert said, a smile of contentment dawning on his face. “Feeding the fire, I suppose.”

Gareth sighed silently, unable to stop himself regretting that it wasn’t his right to wait on Imogen. “Do I send men if you aren’t back at the Keep in a couple of hours?” he asked quietly.

“No. We will make our own way back.”

Gareth started at him hard for a moment before he turned and scooped up the slightly damp Lucas, who barely protested the disturbance. He hesitated visibly for a moment, then quickly turned back to Robert, his face darkly serious.

“Be worthy of her,” he said fiercely. “Be worthy of her, or I’ll cut your heart out.” Then, embarrassed by his display of unexplainable emotion, he quickly turned and disappeared into the forest.

Brows drawn, Robert crouched down by the fire. He threw on one of the small green branches Gareth had gathered and watched as it spluttered for a moment before sluggishly catching alight. A rational part of him supposed that he should awaken Imogen so they could head for the Keep and the warmth it offered.

He watched as the dying sunlight touched Imogen’s cheek, making her skin look translucent and fragile. He lowered his gaze and knew that he couldn’t wake her now any more than he could in their curtained bed. Fortunately, he was getting good at watching over her while she

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