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might wind up more Scots than Norman, like Marianne. You've already let your hair grow long, the way they do."
    "It saves time," Nicholas replied. "However, I doubt I'll ever be mistaken for a Scot, whoever I marry, and as for our sister, she seems content, and I'm happy to have her husband for an ally. I need all the allies I can get in this country."
    Henry, who wore his hair in the Norman fashion, took a long drink, then wiped his lips. "Surely the woman herself should count for something."
    "Naturally," Nicholas said as he set down his goblet. "She'll have to be able to run a household without pestering me about expenses or petty squabbles among the servants."
    "You must want her to be pretty," Henry said. "Or do you intend never to see her by daylight? Or candlelight? Or torchlight?"
    "Of course I don't want to marry some old hag. But as long as she's not repulsive, her looks are immaterial to me."
    Henry didn't hide his scepticism . "You used to be more discerning. In fact, you used to be quite fussy in that regard. Considering this is a woman you'll have to make love to several times if you're to have heirs, I'm surprised to hear you claim otherwise."
    "All I wanted from a whore was to slake my lust. This is different."
    " Exactly ," Henry cried triumphantly , "because presumably, she'll also be the mother of your children. You don't want a bunch of ugly brats, do you?"
    "I want my sons to be courageous, honour able men, and my daughters honour able, demure women—as their mother should be. What they look like is less important."
    "We'll see how serious you are about your future wife's appearance when you make your choice," Henry said as he pushed himself away from the table. "Now give me your hand. It's time I was on my way if I'm to reach Dunbardee before nightfall."
    Nicholas rose and clasped his brother by the forearm. "Safe journey, Henry."
    "If I hear anything of significance at court, I'll send word," Henry replied. "I do know what you did for me, Nicholas, and I won't forget. Anything I can do to help you, I will."
    Nicholas regarded him with surprise, taken aback by this unexpected expression of sincere gratitude.
    Henry sauntered to the door. "Farewell, brother." He paused on the threshold and gave Nicholas a sarcastic smirk. "Whatever you do, don't sell yourself short."
    The warmth engendered by Henry's words of appreciation fled.
    "I'm not selling myself."
    Henry replied with aggravating condescension. "Of course you are, just as the women will be. But there's no need to lose your temper, brother. That's the way of the world. Goodbye, and good luck."
    AFTER HENRY had left him, Nicholas again went to the window, hands clasped behind his back. The sun was past midday. Henry would have to ride swiftly if he was to reach Dunbardee. He'd enjoy that. Henry was young and he'd always been reckless— because he could afford to be. He hadn't had to pay for their sister's time in the convent. He hadn't had to ensure that his brother had the best training and arms, while he managed with whatever he could afford after their needs were met. Henry had never slept in stables to save the cost of a night's lodging at an inn, or gone without food.
    Henry hadn't been the one to promise their dying mother he would always look after his brother and sister, a vow he'd willingly made and done his best to keep.
    Henry didn't know that as the years of struggle had passed, Nicholas had vowed to do everything he could to rise in the world, to a place where he'd be rich and respected, safe and secure, where no one could take anything away from him, or threaten him or his family.
    With that in mind, he'd trained and fought and won this estate by dint of his skill at arms alone, without the benefit of noble patronage or connections.
    Yet even so, that wasn't enough to rest and be content, not in this world. To hold it, he needed a rich wife from a powerful family.
    And, by God, he'd get one.
    CHAPTER THREE
    JOINING HER UNCLE, Riona came