Devon awoke the next morning with a thick head. He winced as he turned on his side and realized he had a stab wound. A golden-haired woman crouched by the fire, her back to him, stirring a cauldron. Fuzzy details whirled in his mind. He didn’t remember being attacked, but he had staggered into this croft with the woman’s help. She was Saxon. An enemy. Yet he vaguely recalled her feeding him soup and cleansing his wound… He frowned. He had dreamt that he kissed her. Now why—

She turned around and he caught his breath. He could almost feel her full lips under his, parting for him to slide his tongue past, tasting her. Fevers brought on intensely real dreams, it seemed. Then he saw the red mark on her neck and knew that it had been all too real.

He sat up and then groaned at the pain in his groin. She must have kneed him. He deserved no less, he supposed, if he had tried to take advantage of her. But why was she here with him?

“Would you like some porridge?” she asked and handed him a bowl. “If you’re strong enough to ride, we really should be on our way soon.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, wishing his head didn’t hurt so much.

She studied him before she answered. “You came to Bamburgh to fetch me to your king, Rhydderch. I am to be married to his son, Broderick. Don’t you remember?”

His memory came flooding back to him. Din Guyardi. His mission. Bel’s Fires! He had nearly taken the maidenhead of the prince’s betrothed! Judging from the soreness of his balls, he was pretty sure he hadn’t accomplished that. Still… he needed to ask.

“Did I force you last night?”

Adele turned away, but not before he caught her blush. By the saint, Brighid, what had he done?

“No,” she finally said. “You did not.”

Devon breathed a sigh of relief. At least, he had not betrayed his allegiance to Rhydderch. “You were right to stop me, albeit I wish you had not struck my privates quite so hard.”

Her eyes widened. “I did—“ Abruptly she snapped her mouth closed and then busied herself tidying up the tiny room.

But this morning, one thing was clear. Adele was betrothed to Broderick. His sense of honor forbade him to touch her again. He sighed. The faster he could get the wench back to his king, the better it would be.

He hoped.