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mothers.”
    “Nay, only one. My father’s other two wives were no more to me than shadows flitting through the halls of Kengarvey. They had no use or love for me. I kenned that and left them be. After my mother was murdered I was given into Ronald’s care, and there I have remained.”
    It was hard for Gabel to understand such a bleak childhood. His family had its troubles, but he had never felt unwanted. Despite all the rivalries and arguments, he enjoyed a true bond with his family, the near and the distant relations. Judging from the way Ainslee spoke, the only member of her closest family who had cared for her had died years ago, leaving only Ronald, a man most people would consider little more than a servant.
    He studied her as she took another sip of wine, pleased to see the color returning to her ashen cheeks. It was not difficult to see the child within the woman. Ainslee MacNairn must have been a very engaging child, yet she had been tossed aside by her father like leavings from the table. Only briefly did Gabel question the truth of her sad story. Her terror had been too real, and she spoke of her bleak life as if she had accepted it and certainly did not expect any pity.
    “Your man Ronald did his duty well,” Gabel said.
    “Aye, although it is certain that many folk wouldna think so.” Ainslee smiled faintly and glanced toward her sleeping mentor. “Ronald taught me all of his skills, gave freely of all his knowledge, but ’tis not the sort of skill or knowledge a wellborn lass should have.”
    “In this rough land it probably serves you well.”
    “Verra weel except in gaining a husband.” Ainslee briefly wondered why she spoke so freely, then decided she was simply too tired to guard her tongue. And, since theirs was to be a short acquaintance, she also decided that what Gabel learned about her life was of little consequence. “A mon first looks to gain land, coin, or power. Then he looks for such skills as fine needlework and courtly manners. After all, a wife is but a tool for gain and the breeding of sons. Aye, I may produce sons, for my mother bore four living ones, but I canna say that I would bring a mon much gain. Nay, especially not with my father causing such trouble and making so many enemies.”
    Everything she said was true, and the reasoning was both common and practical. It was the reasoning Gabel himself used in his search for a wife, yet he inwardly winced. There was no condemnation or anger in her voice, but simply speaking of such methods aloud made them sound callous and mercenary. Gabel did not like to think that he shared such ungallant ideas, but, he also knew most people would consider him the greatest of fools if he did not consider lineage, fertility, breeding, and gain when he sought out a wife. He also realized he was being ridiculously contrary when he mused that a man would have to be a fool not to consider Ainslee for a wife, despite all she lacked.
    “A man must look to his future,” Gabel murmured.
    Ainslee wondered why the man sounded defensive, even apologetic. Gabel de Amalville was a man of good birth and knowledge. Such men choose their wives carefully. It was not only accepted, but expected of anyone in his privileged position. Ainslee decided she was so tired she was hearing things in his voice that were not there.
    “I believe my fears have waned now, Sir Gabel,” she said as she rose to her feet. “I will return to my bed. I pray I willna disturb everyone’s rest again this night.”
    “There is no need to apologize for something you cannot help,” he said. “Few of us can boast that we are free of the night’s terrors.”
    “Mayhaps, but I shall endeavor to cease dragging all about me into the midst of mine. Good sleep, Sir Gabel.”
    “Good sleep,” he replied as he watched her return to her bed at Ronald’s side.
    As she wrapped herself in her blanket, Ainslee fought the strong urge to look back at Gabel. Waking from her nightmare to find