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abovestairs?" she demanded.
    Nesta snatched her arm to her side. "M'lady! I..." She slid her gaze to Gabriel's chamber. "Just wanted to make certain yer guest was comfortable."
    As only Nesta could make him. Juliana had many times come upon the wench as she boasted to others of her lascivious trysts with men. Thus Juliana had learned of those things that happened between men and women, things she would have preferred not to know. "How kind of you. However, I am sure Lord De Vere is resting well—as you should be. There is much work to be done on the morrow."
    Resentment leaped in Nesta's eyes. "But of course, m'lady." She sauntered toward the stairs.
    When she was gone, Juliana let her tense shoulders fall. Nesta was not content with her place at Tremoral and never would be. The illegitimate daughter of a neighboring baron, she believed herself better than the other servants and let them know it at every turn. Thus, since being sent to serve at Tremoral two years ago, she'd proved herself a constant source of unrest. She complained incessantly, instigated quarrels, and was comfortably wanton. Not for the first time, Juliana considered sending Nesta to serve at one of the barony's lesser castles.
    As she turned in to her chamber, a thought struck her. She looked to the door behind which Gabriel De Vere slept. Had her husband provided for the possibility that there might be another woman in Gabriel's bed? That Nesta or some other wench might come to Gabriel when Juliana was with him? In the next instant she reminded herself that Bernart knew his old friend well. He was too determined to have a son to overlook such an obstacle. The only question was whether or not she could do what he demanded. Could she surrender her virtue to a man she detested? Could she lie beneath him and knowingly steal a child from his loins? Though she blamed Gabriel for Bernart's inability to father children, what they planned was wrong. Very wrong.
    She stepped into the lord's solar and closed the door. The torch, nickering its last breath, cast an eerie glow over the chamber and made beasts of shadows and movement from the stillness. Chill bumps rose across her skin. She rubbed her hands over her arms and glanced at the pallet where her sister's fair head shone against the dark blanket pulled over her.
    Alaiz had been asleep when Juliana had come above-stairs and, fortunately, had not awakened during the confrontation with Bernart. How had she whiled away the day? How had she filled the slow minutes that must have seemed hours? Resenting Bernart for refusing to allow Alaiz to attend the festivities for fear her infirmity would reflect ill on him, Juliana crossed to the bed and lay down.
    She fought the overwhelming need to vent her emotions, but in the end tears would not be denied. Just this once, she promised herself, then nevermore. As she turned her face into the pillow, the mattress gave on the opposite side of the bed. Realizing her restlessness had awakened Alaiz, she clenched her jaw, but it was no use. A convulsive sob escaped.
    Alaiz's arm came around her. "Do not cry, Juliana. All will be... well."
    Nay, it would not. "I know. You should return to your pallet." Although she would have liked for Alaiz to remain, if Bernart returned this eve he would be angered to discover her sister abed.
    Alaiz stroked Juliana's hair. "We could... leave."
    "Leave?" In that muddled world of Alaiz's, did she grasp Juliana's terrible predicament?
    "Aye, r-run away."
    For a moment, Juliana considered it, but they had nowhere to go. Though she might find a way to survive outside Tremoral's walls, it would be far too dangerous for Alaiz. Nay, she would give Bernart the child he demanded and, hopefully, life would resume its tedious pace. She wiped her eyes. "Surely you know we would not get far."
    Life flickered deep in Alaiz's eyes, revealed something of her lost self. "I... I have thought on it some." That, Juliana did not doubt.
    "If we c-cut our hair and don