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displeasure. She could see his temper straining against his control and the battle mesmerized her.
    â€œDo not belittle yourself, Justina.”
    She pushed against his chest, struggling when she knew that the only way she might be free was by his will. “Release me now.”
    He grunted but his embrace opened, allowing her to place distance between them. She felt chilled the moment she moved, her body lamenting the steps that she took away from him. The skin of her lips was suddenly more sensitive than it had ever been, longing for her to return to him and offer him a kiss in return for the one he had given her.
    â€œI am honest with you, Synclair. I have no more liking for it than you. Yet it is the truth. You must not seek me out.”
    â€œAnd you, madam, would be wise to learn that I am not given to making declarations lightly.”
    He meant what he said, she could hear the determination in his voice. It was there in his expression, too, and Justina discovered she had too much liking for the way he looked when he was staring at her. It was so tempting to sink into his gaze and allow it to wrap around her like a cloak that could cut the chill of life’s injustices.
    A blast from a hunting horn broke through the early morning from somewhere back in the trees. The sound startled the horses, sending a twist of fright through her belly as she heard the stallion snort; if the animal reared up they would be directly beneath its sharp hooves. Synclair twisted in an instant and reached for the reins of his stallion, gripping the leather just as the horse was rising up. With a powerful motion of his thick arms, he controlled the huge animal, moving in a slow circle as he soothed it with several long strokes down its face. Justina blew out a stiff breath as relief tingled across her skin.
    Hounds suddenly swarmed through the trees, weaving around the trunks while they pressed their noses to the ground.
    â€œDo my eyes deceive me? Synclair, man, when did you rejoin the court? I thought you were with Baron Ryppon.”
    It was the Earl of Hertford who came through the trees, his voice cutting through the silence. But his attention settled on her, his gaze sharp and questioning.
    â€œGood day to you, Lady Wincott. I had not heard that you were returned to court either.”
    Justina lowered herself, but Synclair answered the earl before she rose again.
    â€œLady Wincott passed the summer with Baron Ryppon and myself at Amber Hill.”
    Edward Seymour, brother of the late queen, Jane Seymour, leaned over to offer his hand to Synclair. It was a mark of high regard from a man who held an extremely high position in England, thanks to the fact that his sister had given Henry the Eighth the son he longed for so much. He was a prince in everything but blood, and since Prince Edward Tudor was only nine years old, the earl would most likely have a great deal of power while the boy grew up.
    â€œHas Ryppon given you leave for your service to him then?”
    â€œI am finished with my time, my vow completed and satisfied.”
    The earl nodded. “An excellent time to be finished with your training. I can use a man like you by my side.”
    The hounds began to howl with excitement, and the earl turned his attention to them.
    â€œJoin me, man. We’ll catch some supper to enjoy together.”
    The earl didn’t wait for them; he kneed his stallion and set off after his hounds.
    Justina had taken advantage of their conversation to reclaim her mare. The animal had shied away from Synclair’s stallion and was searching through the fallen autumn leaves for grass, but there was little left alive. Running a soothing hand along the neck of the mare, Justina grabbed a handful of her skirt to allow her to place her foot in the stirrup. She was keenly aware that they were once more alone.
    A shiver crossed her skin. She was far too sensitive to the knight, one of the reasons she had taken to the road to