A sharp tug on his hand saved him from sweeping Isobel into his arms in full view of everyone in the hall. He looked down, surprised to see he still held the twins. Recalled to his purpose, he turned his attention back to Isobel.
And at once forgot what he meant to say. How could she have grown still lovelier? The green velvet gown made her eyes a deep forest green.
“I am glad for your safe return, Sir Stephen.”
His stomach tightened at Isobel’s formal greeting.SirStephen. So that was how it was.
“And who is this lovely girl?” Isobel asked, touching the child’s arm.
To his astonishment, the devil girl gave a graceful curtsy and looked up at Isobel with a beatific smile.
“My name is Linnet. I know you are Lady Hume because Sir Stephen told me Lady Hume is as kind as she is beautiful.”
Isobel gave a musical laugh that made Stephen’s heart do an odd leap in his chest. Though he doubted the girl—Linnet—could keep up this pretense of good behavior, he winked at her to show he appreciated the effort.
It seemed unkind to mention the children’s circumstances in front of them. Without thinking, he leaned close to Isobel to whisper in her ear. The smell of her skin sent him reeling.
When he remembered to speak, he said, “They are orphans in need of protection. I will take the boy as my page, but the girl…” He lost track of what he was saying. It was so very tempting to run his tongue along that delicate earlobe, to place a kiss in the hollow just below it.
Isobel jerked her head away before he could say—or do—more.
“Of course I will take her,” she said, looking at him with wide, serious eyes.
She turned to the girl and took her hand. “This is fortunate, indeed! My maid asked leave to marry one of the king’s archers. I would be so grateful if you would agree to take her place.”
As Linnet looked over Isobel’s fine clothes, her smile brightened. “I would fix your hair and help you dress in pretty gowns?”
Isobel nodded.
“And I could read you all the love poems men send you,” Linnet said, her eyes glowing. “I am sure you have many!”
Many love poems? Or many men sending them? Either way, Stephen did not like it.
“You can read?” Isobel asked, surprise showing in her voice.
“Of course.” Linnet gestured toward her brother. “As does François.”
Stephen watched with sympathy as the boy melted under the warmth of Isobel’s smile. He felt his own insides go soft when she said, “You are fortunate to serve a knight as skilled as Sir Stephen. Pay attention and you will learn much from him.”
François gave her a solemn nod.
How had Isobel done it? Already she had these two little hellions in the palm of her hand.
Stephen heard a man clear his throat beside him and turned to find cold gray eyes upon him. The dark-haired man they belonged to inserted himself between Stephen and Isobel and tucked Isobel’s hand into the crook of his arm.
So, this must be Isobel’s delinquent Frenchman.
Stephen let his eyes drift slowly over the man. He knew just how he would take him. Years of practice taught him that. William had decided that a boy with a sharp wit and a big mouth had better learn how to handle himself in a brawl as well as on a battlefield. Each day, his brother assigned a different man to fight him. The lessons did not stop until Stephen learned to assess a man’s strengths and weaknesses at a glance.
The man before him now was cocky, overconfident. He had a powerful build—the kind that would turn to fat as he grew older, Stephen thought cheerfully. Strong, but not too quick. Stephen would first grab him by the—
These happy contemplations were interrupted by Isobel. “Sir Stephen Carleton, may I present Lord Philippe de Roche.”
Stephen waited, deliberately letting the silence fall between them. If he’d been a cat, his tail would have twitched.
“He is from Rouen,” Isobel added, her voice tense.
Stephen knew damn well where the man was from. Since Isobel had not called him her betrothed, perhaps she was not yet irrevocably tied to this man with ice in his eyes. The man’s too-perfect features made him look soulless.