The Bride’s Portion
Susan Paul

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dedicated with love and thanks to Margot Anne Hoyt. A lot of years have passed since we were eleven, Margot, but during all of them you’ve been a constant source of encouragement and faith. I wouldn’t be writing today if it weren’t for you. I’m so glad that out of all the people in this world, I’m the one who’s able to call you my best friend.

Chapter One
England, early Fall—1405

The chamber was both cold and dark, save for one greasy candle that sat glowing on a small table, putting more smoke than light into the damp air.

“They might at least have lit the fireplace,” Lillis said, rubbing her arms in a vain effort to warm herself. “Those wretched boys! Putting us in this filthy room as though we were criminals. I suppose they thought we might escape from someplace clean.”

She paced the dark room, careful not to stub her toe on one of the many pieces of furniture there. It must have been a bedchamber once, for there was a large fireplace on one side of the room and a locked balcony and windows on the other. Now it appeared to be used as a storing place for unused furniture. Some of the pieces were covered to keep the dust off and some were left as they were. When Lillis and her maid had first been shoved inside, they had been horrified at the number of rats that ran to their hiding places and at the thick dust that pervaded the room. But they were grateful at least to have chairs to sit in and a table to rest their hands on. There was even an old, lumpy bed on which they could sleep if they needed to, though the rats had done a good job of removing a great many of the mattress feathers.

How many hours had they been locked in here, now? she wondered, rubbing her hands harder to keep from shivering. It had been early morn when those horrid twins had so suddenly leapt out of the woods at them, aiming readied crossbows at the heads of her two guards. Her first reaction had been to scold them as thoughtless rascals who should be greatly punished for playing such frightening tricks on innocent travelers, but when she’d seen that they were serious about what they were doing, the anger had died on her lips. She had been a little afraid of them then, for they certainly must have been demented to have done such a thing in earnest.

By the time they had dragged Lillis and her companion to the castle they were now imprisoned in, however, she had reverted to her original conclusion. The wretched creatures were far from insane. Oh, no, they were worse than that. They saw themselves as righteous crusaders who had captured an enemy. When Lillis made the mistake of informing them that they were being perfectly foolish, that she was Lillis of Wellewyn and that Wellewyn had no fight with them or anyone else, they had simply become happier about what they’d done.

Rotten little beasts.

The worst part of this nightmare was that she didn’t even know where she was. It had been years since Lillis had been home, and she didn’t recognize either the area they had ridden through or the castle she’d been taken to. The twins had refused to tell her and hadn’t let her guards speak, so neither Lillis nor her companion had the slightest idea where they were, or how far away Wellewyn was.

And they’d not had a chance to see much of the castle to which they’d been brought, either. She and Edyth had barely dismounted before the twins had separated them from their guards and had dragged them through the castle and up several flights of stairs to an obviously unused portion of the household.

“You cannot mean to keep us in here!” she’d protested after they’d been shoved inside the filthy room. “I demand to see the lord of this castle!”

“Our brother isn’t home,” one of them stated with obvious satisfaction, “but you may be certain we’ll tell him you’re here as soon as he returns.”

They had gone, oblivious to her pounding on the door and the furious threats she’d shouted at them. Many hours had passed and no one had come, not even to bring them water. Edyth, fortunately, had come across a few old tallow candles and a flint box. The room had been dark to begin with, though a little light made its way through the boarded windows before the sky darkened and it began to rain. By now the room would have been black as pitch were it not for the dim light of the candle, and Lillis tried to be as grateful for that as she could. But they were very cold and very hungry and very frightened. As the hours crawled by she began to wonder if the fiends hadn’t forgotten all about them and gone on to their next amusement. Some months from now, when the lady of the castle needed extra chairs for company at Christmas, someone would come to this room and find two skeletons sitting companionably side by side around the table.

Lillis shuddered and tried to put that thought out of her mind. If someone didn’t come by daybreak she and Edyth would simply have to do something drastic. What, she didn’t know, but something. In the meantime she kept herself busy with thoughts of what she was going to say to the lord of this place when she finally got a chance to do so. Yes, indeed, she was going to enjoy giving him a few well thought out ideas she had concerning the respective futures of his two brothers.

She only hoped that, when the man returned from wherever he was, he would immediately put things to right. Surely he would! He was certain to be as horrified at what his brothers had done as she was, and he would be bound by duty to severely punish the beasts. She could almost feel sorry for the poor man, burdened with such troublesome pests. But that was his concern, not hers. What mattered to Lillis was getting out of this place and home to Wellewyn as quickly as possible.

Wellewyn! Lillis clasped and unclasped her hands with anxiety as she took another turn around the room. Her father would be sick with worry because she had not yet arrived. Already they were a day late in getting there, having been delayed by the bad weather, and now they would be even later. Father would be outraged when he learned of her treatment at the hands of a neighboring lord’s siblings. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did indeed go to King Henry and demand their heads.

“It must still be raining.” Edyth broke into Lillis’s thoughts with her soft, sad voice. She sat at the table, sniffling and pressing a tear-soaked handkerchief to her eyes.

Lillis looked at her companion with affection. Poor Edyth! What a terrible ordeal this had been for her. Lillis had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to comfort and reassure her weeping maid. The older woman had been with her for as long as Lillis could remember, and she well knew her to be a timid, easily frightened soul.

“Yes, I believe it must be,” Lillis agreed, still rubbing her arms. “It makes the room very damp, does it not?” She crossed the room and put her hands reassuringly on Edyth’s shoulders. “It will not be much longer, dear. Someone is sure to come and set us free.”

“Do you really think so?” Edyth asked hopefully.

“Why, of course,” Lillis assured her without much belief in her own words. “We haven’t really been here that long. It only seems so because we’ve not had a way to tell the time.” How long had they been there? she wondered.

“Did—did you see the way the people looked at us when we rode through the village?” Edyth asked in a quavering voice. They’d not yet spoken of what had happened to them that day, other than to comment on the unbelievable behavior of the two boys.

“Yes. It was most odd. It was as if they hated us, though God above knows there is no cause.” She paused, then continued thoughtfully, “If only we knew where we were. What kind of place is this that they allow their children to roam free and bring home stray prisoners to lock in filthy rooms?”

Edyth turned to look up at her mistress. “It is strange, is it not? And yet the castle seemed well kept. Everything was so clean and fine.”

Lillis nodded. “Yes, I saw that, too, though we hardly got a chance to notice much the way those two rushed us up here. But it would seem that the castle is well managed. I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why any kind of responsible people would allow something like this to happen. It is really quite...abnormal.”

She could feel Edyth’s shoulders stiffen beneath her hands. “Oh, Lillis! We never should have left the convent! We never should have gone traveling with only two men to guard us! What will happen to us now?”

Edyth broke into fresh wails and Lillis did what she could to calm her. She barely had time to quiet her companion before they heard footsteps approaching and saw a light shine beneath the door. Edyth’s crying ceased only because she was too frightened to make any sound, and Lillis struggled to keep her own fears under control. She tightened her grip encouragingly on Edyth’s shoulders and stood as tall and straight as she could.

“Courage, Edyth,” she admonished as a key rattled and the door’s lock turned. “Courage.”

A demon walked through the door to greet them, or so it seemed. It was a large, dark man, girded about in armor, his face hidden in the shadows, who made the first steps into the room. He dripped with wetness, and the light coming in behind him caused him to look more unearthly. Lillis, already trembling with abject fear, watched him enter the room with real terror. He looked like a specter, and after the day she’d already spent she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had announced that he was such.

Edyth wilted beneath her hands and Lillis shook her imperceptibly while the ghostly figure approached. She was thankful that it spoke first, since she had lost her own voice.

“Who are you, lady?”

Lillis trembled at the harshness of his words.

“Who are you, sir?” she asked shakily.

“I am the lord of this castle,” the ghost responded, his image now fading into that of a man.

“Oh” was all Lillis could say for a moment. So! This was the man she had been waiting for. What a frightening phantom he made! “Sir,” she said more steadily, “I am Lillis Ryon of Wellewyn, and this is my companion, Edyth Lielyn. I fear your brothers have made a serious mistake.”

For the first time she saw that others had entered the room behind him. The man alone came closer, becoming more and more human in the light of the candle.

“Your father is Jaward, Lord of Wellewyn?” he asked, looking at her intently.

At this closer distance Lillis could see the haggard expression on the man’s face, though she could not tell whether he was young or old.

“He is,” she said, and lifted her chin.

It was difficult to tell what his reaction to this was. He stared at her quietly, looking directly into her eyes, and Lillis returned his stare and wished she could think of something to say. This wasn’t how he was supposed to behave. He was supposed to be groveling at her feet and begging her forgiveness for the treatment she and Edyth had received in his home. He wasn’t supposed to be standing there and staring at her as though trying to decide what kind of animal she was.

Those who had also entered the room gathered behind him, their faces eerily illuminated by the glow of torchlight. Lillis was surprised to see a matronly woman among them.

“My lord—” Lillis began, then stopped abruptly when she noticed that the twins were there, standing to the side of their brother, their arms folded across their chests, smiling at her with smug satisfaction.

“You two!” Lillis snapped, pointing at them. “You wretched, miserable fiends!” She looked back to the lord of the castle, who had ceased his thoughtful staring and now looked at her with some amazement. “My lord,” Lillis spoke curtly, “these two misbegotten devils waylaid my companions and myself on the open road this morn and brought us to your castle by force. They have locked my maid and me in this filthy chamber all day and have not even had the human kindness to bring us food or water. I cannot begin to imagine what they’ve done with my two guards.”

“They’re all right,” one of the boys answered sourly. “Sir Alan has them under guard in the men’s quarters.”

“Then they’ve probably received better care than you have spared us,” Lillis informed him hotly. “Did you not think at all about the two women whom you’d locked up all day? Did you not consider that we might be cold and hungry in this miserable place?” She indicated the room with a sweep of one hand.

The twins made no reply, but the lord of the castle said quietly, “You speak truly, my lady. Your treatment at the hands of my brothers has been unforgivable. I promise you they shall be punished.”

“But...Alex!” one of the twins protested.

“Quiet!” the lord commanded, his steely voice bringing utter silence to the chamber. He returned his attention to Lillis and spoke more evenly. “I beg your pardon, my lady, as well as the pardon of your maid.” He nodded in Edyth’s direction. “I have only just returned to the castle, else you would have been released sooner. My aunt—” he indicated the plump figure behind him “—had no knowledge that you were here, and learned of it only now, just as I, and the rest of my castlefolk, did. Had she known, my lady, you would have been well cared for, and never subjected to such as this. I pray you will believe me.”

“We had wondered, my lord.”

He inclined his head. “That is understandable, but all will be made well, I vow. You shall be taken to a suitable chamber to spend the night and all of your needs will be tended to immediately. In the morn we will see what is to be done.”

“I thank you, my lord,” Lillis replied, “but that is not necessary. If you will return my guards and our horses, we will leave this place at once.”

He gazed at her unwaveringly.

“I am sorry,” he said, “you cannot leave tonight. But do not fear for your guards. I will make certain that their comfort, as well as yours, is provided for.”

“No,” Lillis returned firmly. “That will not suffice. We will leave tonight. Please have our mounts made ready and our belongings returned to us.”

The breath that came from him sounded like a sigh, and a weary one at that. “You cannot leave tonight, my lady,” he repeated. “The wind howls outside like the Fiend himself, and the rain pours in rivers. I would be less than human were I to send any lady into such weather, especially in the darkness.” His tone changed slightly, growing more persuasive. “Come, accept my hospitality and we will speak with one another in the morn.”

Lillis tried to control her voice, to force it to speak with an obedient calm. “My lord, I am grateful for your consideration, but pray do not concern yourself with our welfare. The weather will indeed be an inconvenience, but I promise you that we would far rather face it than spend a night enjoying your kind hospitality. We have enjoyed enough of it already this day.”

There was a gasp, followed by shrill words. “Alexander! Will you let her speak to you in such a manner? She is churlish and rude!”

“Silence, Aunt Leta,” he commanded quietly, and the room fell still again. So still that Lillis thought she could hear the frantic pounding of her heart.

“My lady of Wellewyn,” he spoke with unnerving softness, “let us have an understanding. I assure you that you will not leave here tonight.”

Lillis felt Edyth trembling violently beneath her hands, and she licked her dry lips.

“We will,” she insisted.

“You will not.”

Lillis understood him, could hear in the tone of his voice exactly what he meant. They were prisoners. She wanted to give way to the fear that struck her so fiercely, but she wouldn’t. She would not. Instead, she demanded, “What is your name, sir, and what place is this?”

He seemed surprised at her question, as though she should know where she was and to whom she spoke.

“This is Gyer, my lady, and I am Alexander Baldwin, the Lord of Gyer.”

He spoke the words with such meaning and expectancy that Lillis felt even more unsettled. He was watching her for some kind of reaction and seemed dissatisfied that she had none.

“You do not know of Gyer,” he stated.

“I have not been home for more than ten years, Alexander of Gyer, but I do have some small memory from my childhood of a place called Gyer. Is it not a neighboring fief to Wellewyn?”

He gave her no answer, but turned to address those behind him.

“They will stay in Mother’s chamber. Aunt Leta, send servants with food and drink. Tell them to give these ladies whatever they require.”

“Your mother’s chamber, Alexander? It isn’t right!”

“It will be as I say,” he answered curtly. “Go now. Willem and I will escort the ladies to their chamber.” He looked at the twins. “Wait for me below,” he said in a voice that made them leave the room at once.

Lillis and Edyth found themselves alone with Alexander of Gyer and the man named Willem.

“You will come with us,” the Lord of Gyer stated rather than asked.

Edyth shook her head and clutched Lillis’s hands. “Oh, no, my lady!” she sobbed. “They are going to hurt us! They are going to kill us!”

Lillis bent to put her arms around her companion’s trembling form. “Now, my dear, they’re going to do no such thing. They shall take us to a very nice chamber—” she sent an angry glare at the Lord of Gyer, who nodded “—and we shall eat until we are full and then we will rest.”

“I—I am very hungry,” Edyth whimpered, shuffling toward the open door.

The man named Willem carried a torch to light their way, but when they reached the first stair Edyth stumbled. Lillis moved to hold her up, then was surprised to find that the Lord of Gyer had also reached out a steadying hand.

“Let me,” he murmured, prepared to help the older woman down the stairs. But he had made a mistake. When Edyth realized, even in her weakened state, whose hand it was that grasped her arm, she shrank against her mistress in a state of full distress.

“Don’t touch her!” Lillis warned, stopping on the step and enclosing Edyth in a strong embrace. Her trembling maid fell against her and wept.

Alexander of Gyer stared at her.

“Are you a knight, Alexander of Gyer?” Lillis asked angrily.

His face registered shock. “Yes.”

“Then I hope you pray well to God tonight.”

He understood her meaning, she saw, but said not a word, only nodded and turned to lead the way down the stairs.

It took some time to reach their destination, Lillis having to help Edyth every step of the way, but finally they stopped in front of a door that opened to a beautiful chamber, as clean and orderly as their previous chamber had been filthy and disorderly. Lillis guided Edyth inside, relieved to see that a fire was already burning in the fireplace and that candles had been set out for illumination.

“Someone will come to see to your needs,” Alexander of Gyer said. Finally Lillis looked at him. He appeared different in the full light, bigger and more formidable. He was wet and obviously tired, and his heavy armor looked uncomfortable. He was younger than she had originally thought.

“We will speak in the morn, my lady. I will wish you a good eve until then.”

Making a slight bow, he turned and left, the man named Willem trailing behind him. The door closed with a thud, and Lillis heard the unmistakable sound of the lock being turned.

Chapter Two

“Here you are,” Willem said as he stuck his head through the door. “I should have known where you’d be when you didn’t appear for the morning meal.”

Alexander looked up from the table at which he sat and gave Willem a brief smile. “Come and keep me company.” He nodded at a chair across from him. “I fear I slept ill last night and rose earlier than usual. Cook fed me some bread and cheese in the kitchen.”

Frowning, Willem strolled across the room. “You do look tired, Alex. This matter with Wellewyn wears on you, and I imagine our...guests trouble you, as well. Have you decided what you’ll do with them?”

Alexander shook his head and lifted one hand to rub his tired eyes. Slept ill last night? In truth, he’d not slept at all. Coming home to find Lillis of Wellewyn a captive in his home had left him in shock, and he had lain awake, staring into the darkness and wondering what he should do with her. He had several choices, and not a one of them ideal.

He could send Jaward a missive, letting him know that his daughter was being kept at Gyer, and could word it in such a way that no obvious threat would be implied, or he could come right out and tell Jaward to meet his terms else his only child would suffer. The problem with the latter was that Jaward would probably realize Alexander didn’t possess the meanness to actually hurt a woman; the problem with the former was that Jaward would simply go to the king and petition his aid in having his daughter returned. Holding Lillis of Wellewyn certainly seemed like a good way of getting what he wanted from the old man, but Alexander wasn’t yet sure how to go about using her to his advantage.

“No,” he answered at last, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve not yet decided what I’m going to do. I’ve instructed Aunt Leta to bring the lady to me after she and her companion have breakfasted. I thought I would see what she knows about her father’s activities. Any information she can give us will be helpful. If she has any information that she’s willing to give.”

Willem was quiet for a moment, then said, “She’s very beautiful, is she not?”

A glance at his younger brother showed that Willem was carefully inspecting his knees, his face having turned red, and the sight made Alexander grin. Willem was one of the bravest men Alexander had ever known, especially in battle, yet for all that he was painfully shy of women. Merely mentioning that he found a lady to be beautiful made him blush.

“Yes, she is,” Alexander agreed. “Most beautiful. Not at all what I expected after seeing Jaward.”

Not at all what he’d expected, regardless of Jaward. Alexander had walked into that chamber last night and found himself faced with a woman unlike any he had ever before seen. She was certainly the tallest woman he had ever met with, and she had the blondest hair he’d ever seen, as well. She had looked like a shining angel in the glow of the candlelight. Even her brows were blond, causing her blue eyes to stand out quite noticeably. Alexander had been able to see the light blueness of them right through the dark. Her features were fine, with high cheekbones and a full mouth complementing her pale, white skin. He remembered her hands—strong hands, beautiful, with long, shapely fingers that looked as though they could mete out a great deal of pain—or pleasure.

“Have you decided upon a punishment for the twins, at least?” Willem pressed. “They’re already in the village crowing about their deed to any and all who will listen. Did you know that?”

Alexander gave a sigh, which sounded as tired as he felt. “I know, Willem. God alone knows how well I know. And no, I’ve not decided what I’ll do with them, either. Most of the castlefolk and, I suspect, most of my people, believe I should give them a hero’s reward for what they’ve done. If I punish them as they deserve I’ll have a hundred and more unhappy voices ringing in my ears.”

“And if you don’t punish them,” Willem returned, “you’ll have Hugh and Hugo spending all of their days waylaying travelers on the main road and bringing them back to Gyer as prisoners.”

“I know, I know,” Alexander repeated, lifting one palm in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “But what can I do? Nothing seems to stop them. No punishment, no amount of deprivation, no efforts to make them see the error of their ways. The truth, Willem—” Alexander met his brother’s eyes “—is that when Father spoiled those two, he did it for all eternity. Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn’t all of us accept that fact and simply try to live with it as best we can.”

“We could always foster them,” Willem suggested. “At least we’d be rid of them for a couple of years.”

Alexander made a smirk. “Willem,” he chided, “you know as well as I that the twins will never make knighthood. Fostering them with a master who could train them for that purpose would be utterly foolish. Aside from that, I doubt anyone would take them.”

“If you offered sufficient payment—”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Alexander cut him off. “I could probably offer every groat I possess and it wouldn’t be enough. God knows no one could ever pay me enough to take those two on if I didn’t already have to keep them out of familial responsibility. And,” he added morosely, “you know full well that Father forbade me from ever causing Hugh and Hugo to do what they didn’t wish, and although I deeply regret having made him that foolish promise, I must abide by it.”

The door to the chamber was flung open so suddenly that it caused both men to start. Lillis of Wellewyn, breathtakingly lovely in a dress of light blue silk that matched the color of her eyes, strode into the room as if she had every right to do so without first being invited. Aunt Leta came puffing in behind her, unable to keep up with the taller woman. Both men quickly rose to their feet.

Lillis of Wellewyn, chin held high, stopped in front of Willem and Alexander and opened her mouth to speak, then, with a look of bewilderment, shut it again. She looked from one man to the other, then back again, with a frown. Finally she settled her searching gaze on Alexander and stared at him for a long, assessing moment. He held very still as her blue eyes moved over him, from his face all the way down to his booted feet. When she looked into his face once more her expression was resolved.

“My lord—” she began curtly, but was interrupted.

“I have never known such ill-mannered behavior in all my life!” Aunt Leta exclaimed with indignation. “She would not follow or even wait for me! She went storming down the hallways and I barely had time to tell her which direction to take. One would think she’d been raised as a heathen rather than as a lady!”

Lillis of Wellewyn did not turn her gaze from Alexander’s, and he thought he saw a small, amused smile play on her lips. It vanished as soon as it came, unlike her defiant glare.

“Thank you, Aunt Leta,” Alexander said dismissively.

Aunt Leta stamped her foot in displeasure, and Alexander glanced at her.

“Thank you, Aunt Leta,” he repeated. His aunt angrily pursed her lips and left.

Not hearing a request from Willem to be excused, as he expected, Alexander looked and saw, with amusement, that his brother was gaping in stunned silence at the beautiful lady before them.

“My lady, I trust you passed a pleasant night?” Alexander inquired, turning his eyes to her again. She truly was quite stunning, he thought, even when she was angered. “May I make my brother known to you? This is Sir Willem Baldwin. I regret we had no moment for such courtesies last eve.”

To his surprise, the lady lost her basilisk stare, turned to his brother, graced him with a pleasant smile, and said, “Oh, we did wonder who you were, sir, though we knew your name was Willem. I am pleased to meet you.”

Willem turned bright red. His mouth opened and closed several times but no sound came out. Finally, painfully, he managed to sputter, “I am...honored, my l-lady.”

“Thank you, Sir Willem,” she rejoined politely, then turned to Alexander again and promptly regained her angry glare.

“I believe we have some few matters to discuss, Alexander of Gyer,” she informed him, as though their meeting had been her idea and without a hint of the gentleness with which she’d just treated Willem.

“Yes, we do,” Alexander agreed, suppressing the odd, vague jealousy that tickled the edge of his thoughts. With a hand, he indicated the chair Willem had vacated. “Please sit, my lady. Willem, will you do me the favor of seeing to any matters that the tenants might need settled this morn?”

Willem was still staring at the lady Lillis, but Alexander’s words brought him back to life. “Of course—of course, Alex. Very glad to—to take care of that for you.” He bent a clumsy bow in Lillis of Wellewyn’s direction, then left the room at a near run.

Once his brother was gone, Alexander took a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t cherish the position he found himself in. How did one go about telling another person that she was his prisoner?

“I hope you found your chamber comfortable, my lady?”

“Very,” she replied coldly.

“And how is your maid this morn? Edyth is her name, I believe?”

“She is fine, thank you. Frightened and unsettled, but otherwise well.”

Alexander nodded. So, now he was reduced to frightening frail, elderly women out of their wits. The foreign feeling disgusted him, and he wondered how he was going to be able to carry out any of this. He’d understood Lillis of Wellewyn only too well when she had asked whether he was a knight. He had taken a knightly vow to serve God, to defend his country, and to protect and cherish the fairer sex. He certainly was failing in the latter! And yet, he thought, keeping Gyer out of war was worth breaking every vow he had ever made.

“I’m sorry for that. I assure you that my intention is not to frighten or upset either your maid or yourself. Please believe that you will both be treated with respect and consideration while you are here.”

“How very kind you are, my lord,” she replied icily, “but as I told you last eve, we merely wish to take our leave of Gyer as soon as possible. We have enjoyed quite enough of your hospitality.”

Alexander chose his next words carefully. “Again, my lady, I am sorry. It will be necessary for you to remain at Gyer for the time being.”

He was prepared for a typically female reaction to this statement: crying, screaming, wailing. He was not prepared for Lillis of Wellewyn’s reaction. She regarded him coolly, very little emotion showing on her face.

“You appear to be a reasonable man, Alexander of Gyer,” she said, much of the chill gone from her tone. “I cannot be certain, of course, but I do not think you are either insane or inherently evil, so there must be good cause for what you are doing. I would appreciate it, my lord, if you will explain the matter to me.”

Alexander was almost as shocked by her calm response as he’d been by the lady’s looks. Any other female of his acquaintance would now be in a puddle of tears at his feet. But if Lillis of Wellewyn could behave calmly and reasonably, so much the better for all concerned.

“You said last night that you had not been home for many years. I think perhaps you may be unaware of your father’s recent activities. Is this so?”

“My father?” she repeated with surprise. “No, I do not know what his activities are. Even had I been living at home I might not know, for he has ever been private about the management of the estate. Has he—has he done something wrong?”

Alexander regarded her for a moment, then said, “About six months ago your father built a dam on the Eel River, cutting off the main water supply to Gyer. I do not know why he did it, only that he did and that he will not negotiate with me regarding it. As you can imagine, my people have suffered a great deal because of this. Most of their crops have been ruined and now they are wondering how they will survive the coming winter, how they will put bread on their table. I am a wealthy man, my lady—” he shrugged “—and will not hesitate to make certain that my vassals and villeins are cared for, but that will not solve the problem of next year’s crops, and of the years after that. One way or another, by truce or by war, the dam your father built must be torn down. The thought of war is not a happy one for me, but I can see no other course while your father remains so stubborn.”

She had grown still while he spoke. Her eyes had widened and now she stared at him in utter shock. “I had no idea,” she whispered. “I swear I did not.” Her expression pleaded with him to believe her, and he did. “It is no wonder that the people of Gyer received us so angrily yesterday,” she continued, as though speaking to herself. “They must have seen that our guards wore my father’s colors and realized we were from Wellewyn. After what my father has done, I cannot blame them. But why? Why would he do it?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I had hoped you might be able to tell me, or give me some clue, but I see that you are as much in the dark as I. Your father has proved immeasurably stubborn in the matter. I’ve tried everything I know of, from offering money to making threats, but he’ll not be swayed. Yesterday I rode to Wellewyn to make him a final offer and he practically threw me out of that rotting pigsty he dares to name castle.”

She frowned at him, and Alexander belatedly realized what he’d said, how basely he’d insulted her home. “Forgive me, my lady. That was mean spirited of me.”

“I understand, Alexander of Gyer. You are very upset and have every right to be. What my father has done is unforgivable.” Still frowning, she looked away from him.

Alexander gazed at the penitently bowed head of his captive and knew an unbidden desire to comfort her. She seemed genuinely unhappy about what her father had done; it would have been cruel for him to turn his anger with Jaward upon that man’s innocent daughter.

“You are not to blame for this, Lillis of Wellewyn. I believe you had no knowledge of your father’s deeds.”

She gazed at him fully, causing his heart to know a strange agitation. “I did not know,” she promised, “but now that I do, I vow I shall do all I can to have the dam torn down. Have you not petitioned the king regarding it?”

He shook his head. “That is the beauty of your father’s scheme. It is perfectly legal, the dam having been built on his land, or rather, on your land. If I ride into Wellewyn to tear it down, I am the one who will attract the king’s wrath—for trespassing on another man’s property.”

She seemed confused. “Why do you call it my land? No part of Wellewyn is mine.”

“But it shall be, my lady, when you wed next month. Your father took particular delight in informing me that, even if he wished to do so, he could not sell the land on which the dam is built because it is part of your bride’s portion. The only man who will have power over that land will be your future husband, the Lord of Dunsted.”

“Then I shall have the dam torn down when I am wed,” she declared, though somewhat uneasily. She seemed to become more embarrassed with each new revelation, and Alexander wondered if she had ever been aware that she had a claim to the lands of Wellewyn.

“That would be ideal,” Alexander admitted, “however, your father made it clear that he’d had the choice of the man you shall wed, and that he and Jason de Burgh have an excellent understanding between them. You do know that Dunsted is directly to the south of Gyer, do you not?”

Again she looked surprised. “No, I did not, though when my father wrote to tell me of my marriage, he said I should live close to Wellewyn. That is one of the reasons I agreed to it. Are you not...friendly with my future husband?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Not the least bit friendly, though God knows I have tried time and again to come to terms with the man. There is a strip of land bordering Gyer and Dunsted that the people of both fiefs have disputed the ownership of for many years. The land belongs to Gyer, but Jason de Burgh and his are so stubborn over the matter that they refuse to give way. They insist on making pests of themselves by visiting raids on Gyer, while my people retaliate in kind, regardless of my efforts to stop them. I’ve tried to meet with de Burgh in an effort to come to some kind of settlement, but he persistently refuses to see me.” He drew in a taut breath, then released it. “I think your father has somehow convinced him that a war with Gyer would be profitable for them both, though God only knows what a madness that is.” Alexander rubbed his eyes again and felt weary.

“But this is dreadful,” she whispered, her lovely face gone pale.

“Yes, it is,” Alexander agreed. “With Wellewyn to the north and Dunsted to the south, I shall have quite a noose around my neck, shall I not? The worst part of the scheme is that I am the one who will be forced to declare war. I am the one who will be seen as the aggressor, who will have to face the wrath of the king. Your father could not have plotted a more perfect plan to bring me to ruin.”

Lillis of Wellewyn looked wretchedly miserable. “I hardly know what to say to you, my Lord Gyer. I am so very sorry for what my father has done.”

“You have no need to apologize, my lady,” Alexander assured her. “I have already said that you are not to blame.”

“Still,” she persisted, “it is my father who is the source of your troubles, and I want you to know how deeply ashamed I am.”

“You do not find it hard to believe that your father would do such a thing, though, do you?” he asked, considering her.

“Do not misunderstand, Alexander of Gyer. I love my father. He is all I have ever had and has always shown me great love and kindness. Yet I must admit,” she said almost guiltily, “I have thought that he might be hard-hearted toward others.”

Alexander almost snorted at such a gentle term being used for a devil like Jaward, but since the unhappy lady before him was the man’s daughter, he kept silent.

“I understand, my lord, why you wish to keep me here, and I agree that war must be avoided at every cost, but I beg you to release my companions and myself. I swear to you that I will speak with both my father and my betrothed. I will make certain that the dam is torn down, even if I must tear it down with my own hands.”

“No,” he said softly. “I do not believe that either your father or Jason de Burgh will be stopped simply because you ask it of them.”

She stood suddenly, and her hands fell to determined fists clenched at her sides. “But I give you my vow that I will have the dam destroyed! I will swear to honor this vow by all that is holy, by God himself. All I ask is that you trust me. You will not have reason to be sorry.”

Alexander stood, as well, more out of a desire to be polite than anything else. He was struck again by her tallness; really, her height was a pleasant change from towering over other women.

“I believe you would do your best to carry out what you say, my lady, but I do not believe you would be successful. I have spent the past six months doing all in my power to persuade your father to tear down the dam only to have him laugh in my face. Yesterday he assured me that naught would change his mind.”

“But he would listen to me!” she insisted. “I do not know why he has done what he has, but I do know that he has never denied me anything I have asked of him. I am his only child, and he loves me.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “He loves you so much that he kept you from your home for more than ten years?”

Her expression became so suddenly stunned and pained that Alexander wished, powerfully, that he’d never spoken the careless words. She looked at him as if he’d slapped her.

“My lady—” he began in his sincerest, most apologetic tone.

“He did not send me away,” she informed him shakily. “I was living at the convent in Tynedale and being taught how to read and write and work figures. He came to visit me several times, and he wrote to me constantly!”

Worse and worse, he thought. She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.

“My lady,” he tried again, but she didn’t seem to want his apology.

“I tell you he will listen to me!”

“He might,” Alexander said, “but he might not. Indeed, it’s most likely that he will not. You’ve already admitted that your father has never confided in you regarding the management of Wellewyn. If this is so, then there is little reason to believe he will suddenly listen to any request you might make regarding land that he’s never seen fit to explain will one day be yours. You claim that he loves you, but what kind of man loves his child and sends her from his presence for ten years? Did he never once want you home, even for Christmastide?”

She flushed deeply. “That is no concern of yours, Alexander of Gyer! And it has naught to do with the matter at hand. I have given you my vow that I will see the dam torn down. My sacred, solemn vow. Will you or will you not let my companions and myself go free?”

“I have told you that I will not,” Alexander replied, “and I have told you why.”

She drew in a deep breath, pressed her lips together tightly and sat down with a thump. Alexander sat again, as well, wondering rather uncomfortably if he was now going to be treated to the screaming and wailing he had expected earlier.

“Will you at least let me write my father and ask him to fulfill your demands? He will be more inclined to comply if I do the writing.”

Well, so much for screaming and wailing, he thought, picking up his ink quill in a careless gesture.

“I’ve not yet decided whether I’m going to write to your father. I shall have to consider what is best to be done.”

She sat forward in her chair. “But you must write him! My father’s not been well, and he’s been expecting me these past two days already. He’ll be terribly worried by now. You must at least let him know that I’m all right.”

Alexander felt an unexpected surge of anger. “You will have to forgive me, my lady, if I don’t care whether your father worries or not. He’s given my people and myself no reason to love him.”

His sudden anger caused her to sit back again, as though she wished to be as far away from him as possible, and he regretted having spoken so harshly.

“Forgive me,” he apologized quietly, thinking that it was more than the third time he’d done so that morn. “I fear I am rather worn from dealing with your father of late. I have a great many vassals who have labored hard to save their crops, to no avail. The thought of having to tell them to prepare for war against both Wellewyn and Dunsted in the face of all they’ve already suffered sickens me.”

She made no reply, and Alexander looked up and saw that her eyes were wide upon him, filled with a sympathy he’d never have expected from the daughter of his enemy.

“I understand what a terrible situation you’re in, Alexander of Gyer,” she said, “but what good will it do you to hold us here? If you don’t let us go, there will most certainly be a war. My father will call on Jason de Burgh and you will have his men, however few they may be compared to your own, swarming around you, demanding our release.”

“I know,” Alexander admitted soberly. “That is why I must think carefully on what is to be done. I harbor no falsehoods about which side will win should a war erupt. Neither your father’s nor your betrothed’s men could possibly stand against the strength of my own army. Still, I have no desire to kill any man without need. But these are not matters to concern yourself with, my lady. I shall do my best to keep anyone from coming to harm.” He offered her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Now that you are aware of why you are being held I will try to come to some kind of decision as soon as I can. Until then, please believe that you and your maid and guards will be treated as guests in my home, save you’ll not be allowed the freedom of the castle without escort or be allowed to go outside the castle itself. Have you any requests to make of me regarding your comfort?”

She contemplated Alexander in silence, long enough for him to feel uncomfortable beneath her steady gaze, long enough for him to understand something about the pride behind the eyes that held his own so determinedly. “My maid and I will take all of our meals in our room,” she answered at last, breaking the silence and bringing him relief. “As prisoners in your home, we would not feel comfortable partaking food with your family. We will wish to attend chapel in the mornings. I assume you have a chapel at Gyer?”

Her mocking tone made him smile in wry amusement. He was one of the wealthiest men in England, as she must have very well surmised from the size and richness of Castle Gyer. Of course there was a chapel, which she must know very well, too. “Yes, indeed, my lady,” he answered with a hint of matching sarcasm. “It is just outside the inner bailey. I shall be happy to escort you and your Edyth there for the morning mass.”

“You are kind, sir,” she said without expression. “Our things were brought to us this morn and we now have our needlework to keep us occupied. However, the chamber we are in does not receive enough light during the day to make the work easy, and so we will require a place that is well lit in which to pass the day.”

That was easily enough remedied. “The women of the household do their needlework in a certain corner of the great hall that receives full sunlight during most of the day,” he said, “and that is near a fireplace for warmth. I’m sure that both my aunt and my betrothed will be glad to have your company there.”

“Your betrothed?”

“The Lady Barbara Baldwin,” he replied, noting her look of surprise. “You’ve not had a chance to meet the rest of my family yet. My betrothed is my cousin, distantly related, and lives under my protection. Both she and her brother reside at Gyer.”

Lillis of Wellewyn seemed to struggle for a moment, then finally said with forced politeness, “Becoming acquainted with the rest of your family, my lord, is a pleasure that I fear I do not crave. Your brother, Willem, seems meet enough, but your aunt and twin brothers—”

“Yes, I know,” he interrupted in an angry tone. “My younger brothers are wild, untamed fiends, as you know firsthand. Our mother died seven years ago when they were but eight years of age, and they’ve been out of hand ever since. Even before then they were my father’s favorites, and spoiled beyond enduring. After my mother’s death he kept them close to himself and gave them free rein. No one was allowed to reprimand them, and he certainly never did. He coddled them into just the sort of creatures whom you met yesterday, and since his death I’ve not had much luck in taming them.”

“Then you are much to be pitied, my Lord Gyer.”

Something about the tone of her voice made Alexander defensive. “I have tried to discipline them, my lady.”

“I’m sure you have, my lord. Now, about my guards—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I saw to them this morn. They have been moved to suitable quarters and are being kept under watch. I’ve made it clear that they’re to be allowed as much freedom as possible with supervision. Their meals will be the same as those that you are given, so that you will know they are well fed.”

She seemed satisfied with this and rose to leave. “That is well, then. I should like to return to the chamber you’ve given us, my lord, and inform my maid of our situation. We will devote the remainder of the morn praying for a resolution to the problem at hand, as it is now far too late to attend mass.”

She sounded just like the nuns she’d once lived with, Alexander thought as he rose to escort her. “You must not worry, Lady Lillis, over your care while you remain at Gyer.” He spoke the words without thought, as simple courtesy. “I swear by God’s holy name that you and your companions shall be treated as though you were members of my own family.”

She seemed to find his words quite amusing, for she smiled, then laughed, and looked and sounded so beautiful doing so that it nearly stole Alexander’s breath away.

“My lord,” she said, “I do hope you’ll not take my words amiss, but I promise you that my companions and I would far rather be counted your prisoners than ever be considered members of the family Baldwin.”

Chapter Three

Lillis hadn’t slept well the night before, either. The chamber she and Edyth had been taken to was comfortable enough; indeed, more than comfortable. It was lavish compared to the spare, plain room they’d been used to at the convent. The furniture in the chamber was finely made, ornamented with delicate carvings and embroidered with intricately sewn needlework. Artful tapestries covered the walls, depicting scenes of romance and adventure, and in the center of the room sat a large bed, heavily curtained with rich, burgundy-colored velvet hung by gold rings. The feather down mattress in the bed was unimaginably soft, and both she and Edyth regarded it with some awe before allowing themselves to actually sit on it. Their beds at the convent had been about as comfortable as a cold stone floor.

Lillis had realized immediately that the chamber was meant for the lady of the castle, for there were many feminine touches declaring both its rank and occupancy. Silver brushes and an ivory comb sat on a silver tray in front of a highly polished steel mirror, perfume decanters offered the exotic scents of sandalwood and lilac, and a woman’s jewelry chest made of fine cedarwood sat on a lady’s dressing table next to a silver filigreed makeup box.

Servants came and went, bearing trays of food and drink and buckets filled with hot water with which they filled a large wooden tub set beside the fire. They went about their duties in a meaningful silence and left Lillis and Edyth alone in the chamber without speaking one word to either of them.

The food and wine that had been brought tasted better than anything Lillis had ever eaten, probably, she knew, because she was half starved and also because she was so used to the simple food that the nuns at Tynedale ate. She had no doubt that the food at Gyer was better than the viands that would nourish them at Wellewyn would be, if they ever got to Wellewyn, because her father was very poor and could not afford fine cooks and expensive fare.

“If we must be prisoners, at least we’ll be well-fed prisoners,” she jested with Edyth, who was in a trancelike state after taking a bite of pears cooked with wine and raisins.

After their meal they undressed and bathed in the still-warm bathwater. A bar of scented soap was included with the provided necessaries and the two women exclaimed over it. At the convent they’d been used to washing with rough soap that smelled like the sheeps’ fat it was made from, but this soap was soft and soothing and smelled like lavender. They dug through their belongings and pulled on their nightclothes.

They’d gone to bed, both of them amazed anew at the softness of the mattress, and Lillis could tell by her steady breathing that Edyth had fallen to sleep almost immediately. Lillis herself, however, had spent much of the night awake, trying to sort out their situation, and now she was suffering for it.

She sat back in the comfortable chair she’d been sitting in for some hours and forced her eyes to stay open. The midday sun filtered through the many windows at the end of the great hall where she and Edyth were passing their time, and the light and warmth made Lillis feel sleepy. Just beyond the windows she could see glimpses of a beautiful garden. How she would love to explore that garden, to smell the fragrance of the flowers and feel the breeze on her face. Never before, until she’d been denied them, had she so missed the clean smell of fresh air, or the giving of the earth beneath her feet. There were two guards now, standing nearby, who would protest if she tried to enjoy such simple freedoms, for Alexander of Gyer had made it clear that she was not to be allowed outside the castle walls unless he was present.

“Careful, dear!” came Edyth’s voice, startling Lillis.

She looked and saw that she’d dropped her needlework onto the rushes that covered the floor. The rushes were clean and looked as if they’d recently been placed down, but Lillis scooped her material up just in case. She took too much pride in her needlework to take any chances with it. Folding it on her lap, she glanced across the room. With some amusement she saw the women who were sitting at the other end of the hall quickly lower their interested eyes.

“He said they would be only too happy to receive us here,” she remarked, more to herself than to Edyth.

“What was that, dear?” Edyth looked up from her needlework.

Lillis nodded in the direction of the group of women. “Them. The womenfolk of Castle Gyer. Alexander of Gyer assured me this morn that we would be well received by them, but it seems that the only thing those ladies well receive is the gossip Aunt Leta gives them. I can see from here that she says a few words, then looks our way, says a few words, then looks our way...” Lillis craned her neck to see the women better. There were seven sitting together in a group, bent over needlework and talking when they weren’t staring at Edyth and herself. “I wonder which one is his betrothed?”

“Whose betrothed?” Edyth asked, then added, “Lillis, it is quite rude for you to stare at them so!”

“I know, Edyth, but if they’re going to sit there and look at us as though we were oddities we can certainly return the favor.”

Edyth sighed and looked back to her needlework. “Whose betrothed?” she repeated.

“The Lord of Gyer’s. She was supposed to be one of the women who would be happy to welcome us here. She is also his cousin.”

“My goodness, you certainly did learn a great deal during your meeting with him this morn.”

She certainly had, Lillis thought with heartfelt sincerity.

The moment she’d seen the two men standing in that chamber she thought perhaps she’d walked through the wrong door by mistake. Neither of them looked like the man who had introduced himself to her the night before. One of them, the one nearest her whose face was a vivid red color, was much too tall to be Alexander of Gyer, and the other, who stood behind a table, looking rather expectant, was much too handsome. She had stared at both of them in turn until she’d finally realized that the handsome one was the Lord of Gyer.

The discovery had been a distressing one, for Lillis had little experience with men, even less with one so handsome. He’d stood before her, green eyed and dark haired, tall and muscular and much younger than she had realized. His features were purely aristocratic, with a straight nose, expressive eyebrows and a well-shaped mouth. As well, there had been about him a mild and utterly natural expression of superiority, which marked him as the nobleman he was.

It had taken only a moment before she’d determined that her best defense against such a man would be anger, and so she had steeled herself against him.

The conversation with her captor, once begun, had gone more smoothly than Lillis had expected. Alexander of Gyer was not the tyrant she had thought he must be; instead, she found him polite, well-spoken and intelligent. He had explained her situation with honest regret, and had listened to all that she’d had to say.

She’d suffered some shock when he told her of the things her father had done, but he was right when he said that she was not really surprised. Lillis loved her father deeply, for to her he had always been loving and kind, but she knew he was a vengeful man and could be quite cruel. She’d seen enough during her childhood of how he treated his servants and vassals to know these things about him. But she also knew he would listen to her if she only had a chance to speak with him, for he had never been able to deny her anything she’d asked of him. The fact that Alexander of Gyer didn’t believe this was understandable, of course, but extremely frustrating.

“Are you quite sure that he’ll not change his mind, my lady?” Edyth asked. “Your poor father must be terribly worried by now.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is,” Lillis agreed. “But, no, I do not think Alexander of Gyer will change his mind. I don’t know what he will do or how he will use us, save I am reasonably certain we shall not be killed or beaten. Still, I do feel foolish sitting here and enjoying ourselves in the luxury of Castle Gyer while my father is probably worrying himself into illness. Too many more days and I promise that I will begin to think of ways to escape our benevolent prison.” At these words Edyth looked absolutely panicked, so that Lillis quickly added, “But we’ll not speak of such things yet. We shall wait a day or two and accept whatever hospitality Alexander of Gyer offers us, and pray that he finds a solution by then.”

Edyth seemed comforted, and managed a slight smile. As Lillis returned the smile she chanced to look behind Edyth’s chair and saw a movement in the shadows. She bent forward to look more closely and noticed that the shadows were actually two small figures; children who were hugging themselves tightly against the wall to keep from being seen.

“What now!” Lillis said lightly. “Who have we here? Come and let us see you. Come,” she coaxed. “We’ll not harm you.”

Edyth turned to see who it was that Lillis addressed and, being closer to the children, was able to discern them more clearly. “Why, what precious little ones!” the older woman exclaimed, dropping her needlework. “What do you do there, hiding so? Will you not come and say hello?”

But the children seemed thoroughly frightened, if not of Edyth, certainly of Lillis.

“You’re a witch!” accused a small, trembling voice.

“My goodness!” Lillis declared with surprise. “Whatever makes you say such a thing?”

“You look like a witch” came the reply. This time the voice belonged to a boy.

“Do I? How is it that I look like a witch? I’ve never seen one before, so you must tell me.”

“You are all white. And you are a giant.”

“Oh, I see,” Lillis said, repressing the urge to laugh. “Well, I suppose I am all white, as you say, but I assure you that I was born this way and that being such doesn’t make me a witch. As to being a giant, why, I’m not nearly as tall as the Lord of Gyer, am I?”

“No,” said both voices.

“And is he a giant?”

“No.”

“Then, if I am not as tall as he, and he is not a giant, I am not a giant. Does that not make sense?”

They were quiet, clearly thinking this through. Finally the boy spoke again. “Barbara said you are a witch. She said that you turn children into mice and drown them in wells. She said you can put a house to fire by pointing your finger at it.”

“Barbara said you cast spells on people that makes them howl like dogs,” the little girl added enthusiastically, “and that they grow hair all over their bodies and can never be the same again.”

“Oh, my!” Edyth put one hand over her heart in distress. “What dreadful things to tell children!”

Lillis finally gave way to an amused chuckle. “So the lady Barbara told you I am a witch, did she? Well, she is quite wrong. I can do none of those things and I most assuredly am not a witch. Come now, I promise I shall not harm you.”

The children did come, but warily. The closest child was a beautiful little girl, seven or eight years of age, with golden auburn curls atop her head and large hazel eyes full of curious expression. The other, a boy a couple of years older, was surprisingly lanky and thin. He had brown hair and deep brown eyes, and the most serious expression Lillis had ever seen on a child.

“What lovely children!” Edyth exclaimed, putting out a gentle hand to draw them closer. They willingly moved to the older woman but kept their distance from Lillis, whom they stared at with open distrust.

“What are your names, my dears?” Edyth asked them.

“Candis,” whispered the little girl, never taking her eyes from Lillis.

“I am Justin,” the boy said.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Candis and Justin.” Lillis nodded to them formally. “Do you belong to someone in the castle?”

They looked at her with confusion.

“How is it that you are here in the castle?” she clarified.

“We live here. Alex is our brother,” Justin replied.

“Oh,” Lillis said with disappointment. She had assumed that they belonged to the cook or one of the servants, and had been happy with the prospect of having children close by to spend time with. She sincerely doubted, however, that Alexander of Gyer or his family would appreciate her and Edyth even speaking to Candis and Justin. She looked to see whether the women across the room had any reaction to the children being with them and was relieved to find that Aunt Leta and the others had their heads bent in conversation.

“Why are you not doing your lessons now, children?” she asked. “It is not yet time for the midday meal, is it? Do you not have a tutor?”

The boy shrugged. “We do what we want. We did have a tutor last week, but Hugh and Hugo put a snake in his bed and he left. Alex hasn’t found a new one yet, but it won’t matter when he does. Hugh and Hugo always get rid of them in a few days.”

“Once they put salt in the tutor’s wineglass!” Candis said with a giggle. “It was so funny to see him try to drink it without choking! He was too afraid to tell Alex that the wine was bad!”

“How horrid!” Lillis said, surprised at the anger in her voice. “Are your brothers not punished after they do such things?”

“Ye-e-es,” Justin replied haltingly, sounding somewhat uncertain.

Amazed, Lillis shook her head. “That’s too bad for the both of you, is it not? You are deprived of an education because of your brothers’ behavior. Where are your nurses? Who looks after you during the day?”

“We only have one nurse,” Justin supplied. “Her name is Molly and she sleeps a lot.”

Candis giggled again. “She keeps wine hidden in her room and drinks it during the day. We wait until she’s snoring and then we sneak out. But it was hard to wait today, because we wanted to see the witch.”

“Well,” Lillis said with some disgust, “I’ve already told you that I’m not a witch. As to your nurse—” She was so angry she couldn’t continue.

“Does the lord of the castle not care that your nurse is so sleepy all the time?” Edyth asked.

“He’s very busy,” Justin replied, as though that should explain.

“I see,” Edyth said feebly, and exchanged wondering glances with Lillis.

“What of your Aunt Leta?” Lillis asked. “She manages the household for your brother. Does she not care about your lack of supervision?”

The children cast glances at each other, then looked at Lillis.

“Aunt Leta doesn’t mind us as long as we’re quiet. And Barbara says it would be mean to make us do what we don’t want to, because we don’t have parents.”

“Oh, my!” Edyth cried, unable to contain herself any longer. “What kind of place is this? Even the children in the orphanage had better care!”

“It’s none of our concern, Edyth,” Lillis warned. “We’ll not be here long enough to make any difference in the lives of these children, so just get those thoughts right out of your head.”

Edyth looked at her very pleadingly. “But, my dear, they’re just babies—”

“It would be unwise for us to become involved with these two,” Lillis said firmly, then looked at Candis and Justin. “Although I suppose it would be all right to see if they like to play games. Do you?”

“What kind of games?” Candis asked, wide-eyed.

“Why, all kinds. Edyth and I know almost any game you’d care to name. And stories, too. I know a wonderful story I can tell you this very minute, if you wish it.”

They did wish it, and both came closer. Edyth set one child on each knee and Lillis began her tale.

“The knight took up his lance,” Lillis said toward the end of the story, standing and using her arms to demonstrate just how it had been done, “and he took one step, two steps, three steps closer to where the evil man lay. Slowly he lifted his lance, aimed it at the man before him, and—”

A shriek from across the great hall surprised the little group. The children clung to Edyth, and Lillis dropped her hands; all of them looked to where the scream had sounded from.

It seemed to have come from one of the ladies who sat sewing at the other end of the hall, though from which one it was impossible to tell, as they were all now standing and looking with distress at Lillis and Edyth. Two of the ladies, Aunt Leta and a stunningly beautiful redheaded lady, came flying across the room.

“Hold them!” Aunt Leta shouted to the guards behind Edyth and Lillis. “Hold them!”

Looking rather uncertain, the guards moved to do as they were bid, and in a moment Lillis and Edyth found themselves dragged into the firm grasps of the two men. Justin and Candis still clung to Edyth’s skirt in an effort to protect themselves from whatever it was that threatened them.

“How could you threaten such innocent children?!” the redheaded lady cried as she came upon them. Lillis stared at her in surprise.

“I—”

The redheaded woman, or rather girl, for she was certainly younger than Lillis, grabbed Candis and pulled her away from Edyth, scaring her so badly that the child began to cry. Aunt Leta came huffing and puffing behind her and did the same to a bewildered Justin.

“What were you doing to these children?” she demanded.

“I—we—” Lillis sputtered in wonder. What did they think they had been doing to them?

“She was telling them a very interesting story,” came a voice from the shadows of the nearby stairwell. “I should think that would have been obvious, Aunt Leta.”

Alexander of Gyer strolled slowly into the light.

“Release them,” he instructed the guards, and received immediate compliance. “Do not lay hands on these ladies again unless your instructions come directly from me. And I mean directly. Do you understand?” he asked. They nodded.

“Alex!” The redheaded lady stamped her foot angrily. “That woman was getting ready to strike one of the children! I saw it with my own two eyes. You should have the both of them locked in chains in the cellar. Who knows what a daughter of Wellewyn is capable of doing? She’s already caused poor Hugh and Hugo to be punished quite horribly.”

“Barbara.” Alexander of Gyer sounded surprised, and Lillis couldn’t keep herself from looking at him. His expression was pained as he gazed at the redheaded girl, and she suddenly realized that the tiny creature before her was his betrothed. Barbara. She looked back at the girl and felt a familiar twinge of jealousy. Here was everything that Lillis, herself, was not, yet had always wished to be. The lady Barbara was as delicate as a butterfly, her features were lovely and feminine; her hands, her feet, everything about her was dainty and frail looking, as though she could easily be broken. And she was beautiful. Very beautiful.

“It’s true, Alex,” Barbara returned petulantly, “and I’m disappointed that you would take the word of this—” she looked at Lillis with contempt “—lady over your own brothers. And after they did you such a favor by capturing her. You should be praising instead of punishing them.”

How did she do it? Lillis wondered. How could she speak so angrily and yet still seem so sweet and merely a little silly? If anything, her childish speech would melt a man’s heart rather than enrage him. Lillis looked to see what effect it had on Alexander of Gyer.

“No, Barbara, I’m the one who is disappointed,” he chided gently, coming closer and looking impossibly handsome. “I assured our guests that you would be ready to welcome them in the hall this afternoon, but when I came to see how things fared I found they had been kept separate from the other women. I expected better of you, and certainly better of you, Aunt Leta.” He gave that lady a more pointed look.

The dainty creature’s big green eyes welled with sudden tears. “You—you cannot be so cruel as to expect me to entertain them! Prisoners, my lord?”

“While they are here,” he said curtly, “these ladies will be treated as honored guests. Now take the children to their nurse. We shall discuss this matter later.”

His tone did not invite discussion, though both Aunt Leta and Lady Barbara looked as though they had more to say. However, they kept silent and dutifully led Justin and Candis toward the stairs. A gentle hand grasped Lillis’s elbow.

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Alexander of Gyer apologized sincerely. “You must forgive my aunt and cousin. They tend to think the worst of anyone from Wellewyn, I fear.”

“Do they?” Lillis wrenched her elbow free. “Do you know that your betrothed has been telling your brother and sister that I am a witch who turns children into mice and sets houses afire?”

He stiffened, yet his expression remained polite. “If that is what Candis and Justin told you, then either you misunderstood them or they are mistaken. I know they have some childish idea about you being a witch, but Barbara would never tell them such ridiculous tales. They heard them from Hugh and Hugo, more like, or from one of the villagers.”

“I did not misunderstand them, my lord, but that is neither here nor there. She is your betrothed, not mine, and you may believe what you wish of her. She is none of my concern.”

He seemed amazed that she would dare speak to him so. “That is true, my lady, and you will do well to remember it. My cousin is my concern alone, and I’ll not discuss her with you. Do not speak of her again.”

Lillis uttered a laugh. “As a matter of course, my lord, it would please me greatly to neither speak of nor see her again. My companion and I have enough to worry over without having to endure the distinct pleasure of Lady Barbara’s company.”

Alexander of Gyer’s face flushed, but still his voice was calm. “I had thought, my lady, to give you as much access to my household as possible as a way of making your stay more pleasant, but I begin to think I was wrong. Mayhap I should keep you and your Edyth locked in your chamber. Then you’d need not worry about having anyone’s company but your own.”

His rigid self-control and polite manner of threatening were unnerving, but Lillis wouldn’t let herself be intimidated.

“Perhaps you should,” she agreed. “But why stop there, my lord? Why not do as your Barbara suggests and shackle us in chains? It would be most gratifying to know that your brothers had come by their inhuman natures honestly.”

His eyebrows rose in further amazement, indicating the success of this strike; nonetheless, his tone remained maddeningly calm.

“Perhaps I should,” he softly repeated her own words back to her. “Perhaps, depending upon your father’s future behavior, I shall. For now, however, I have promised that you shall be treated as guests, and will be content to escort you to your chamber so that you may enjoy the afternoon meal in the privacy you requested of me this morn.”

Lillis measured his polite words and expression and understood that he’d ceded the battle to her. He’d not argue the matter with her further, which was a relief, though Lillis wasn’t certain if he’d given way because she was too unimportant to waste his time on, or because he’d known that she, herself, would not give way. She would, however, gracefully acknowledge his peace offering by extending one of her own.

“You have not yet been properly introduced to my maid,” she told him, reaching out a hand to draw her timid companion forward. “Alexander of Gyer, I make known to you Edyth Lielyn, daughter of Sir Edward Lielyn of Cantfield.”

He looked appropriately surprised to discover that Edyth was a lady by birth, and immediately bent to take Edyth’s hand.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Edyth of Cantfield. The circumstances of our meeting are somewhat unusual but I hope you will believe that I am very pleased, nevertheless. And I hope you will accept my apologies regarding the behavior of my aunt and cousin—” he glanced at Lillis “—as I hope your mistress will accept them.”

Edyth shyly stammered something appropriate while Lillis met Alexander of Gyer’s frank gaze steadily.

“Let us speak of it no more, Alexander of Gyer.” She offered the truce gracefully.

The Lord of Gyer nodded and extended an arm to Edyth. “Will you allow me the honor of escorting you to your chamber, Lady Edyth?”

Edyth blushed vividly but placed her hand upon his arm, allowing herself to be led forward. Lillis and their guards followed behind as they made their way up the staircase and to the chamber that was their jail. Not for the first time Lillis regretted that she and Alexander of Gyer were destined to be enemies. Despite their short-lived battle of wills, she liked him, and liked him very much. He seemed to be a fair man, one who possessed both strength and gentleness, and she could not help but admire his willingness to give way in a dispute. She knew little of men, but this, it seemed to her, was a fine and rare quality in them. It had been mean spirited to suggest that he shared his twin brothers’ mischievous natures, especially in the face of his kindness to Edyth. She could not remember when, if ever, Edyth had been treated with the respect she deserved. Lillis herself did not even do so.

“Can you tell us, my lord,” she asked conversationally, “what the door in our room is? Not the main door, but the door that is in the middle of one of the walls?” She wasn’t going to admit to him that she and Edyth had already unbolted the door and tried, without success, to open it.

He was thoughtful, then, remembering, said, “Ah, yes. It’s been so long since I’ve used that door that I’ve almost forgotten its existence. It’s an unusual feature, I suppose, but was designed that way apurpose by my father. The chamber you’re staying in was my mother’s, the chamber next to it was my father’s and now is mine. The door you speak of joins the rooms together.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Lillis. “My father felt that the device made his life much easier, as my mother wished to have a private place of her own. She spent a great deal of time there, and I think the door must have been useful when she and my father were arguing.”

They had reached the hallway of the floor that was their destination by the time he finished speaking, yet both women stopped and gaped at him. Lillis, in fact, drew to such a sudden halt that the guards nearly stumbled into her, and Edyth removed her hand from Alexander of Gyer’s arm and stepped away from him. The look on her face was as horrified as Lillis knew her own must be.

The Lord of Gyer looked at them first with concern, and then with curiosity. “Is something amiss?”

“Amiss!” Lillis heard herself saying. “Amiss!” she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.

He looked at her strangely, and then at Edyth, who took a step farther away.

“Good day,” a pleasant voice broke in, and Willem appeared, strolling toward them from the other end of the hall with a shy smile. He stopped beside his brother and surveyed the two unhappy women with interest.

“We—we cannot stay in that chamber any longer,” Lillis said. “You must lodge us elsewhere.”

Alexander of Gyer’s face held honest surprise. “Because of the door? Why?”

“Why!” she half shouted in disbelief. “How could—how—how could you put us in a place where almost anyone could walk in at any moment and—and—well!” She clamped her jaw shut tightly and didn’t notice that she had dropped everything she’d been holding. Fine silk thread and cloth fluttered noiselessly to the floor.

“Anyone?” Alexander of Gyer repeated, his voice deepening with anger. “You mean me, do you not, my lady? You think that I would come into your chamber unannounced simply because our rooms are joined?” He was clearly insulted, and for a brief moment Lillis feared him. He was a big man, and seemed bigger in his fury. “If you’ve not noticed,” he continued curtly, “there is a bolt on your side to keep you safe from any such intrusion. And there is one on my side to keep me safe, as well. And, Lillis of Wellewyn—” he bent, speaking close to her face “—I will have you know that I am the lord of this castle. If ever I want to come into your chamber unannounced I will do it! Without your permission. Not—” he leaned even closer “—that I would ever want to enter your chamber, for any reason, in the first place.”

Lillis could have done without his last sentence and its most obvious meaning. She knew full well that she was odd looking and unattractive. She didn’t need Alexander of Gyer to tell her that. The nuns at Tynedale had spent ten long years making certain she understood it. And yet it hurt deeply, hearing the truth from the mouth of such a man, and Lillis felt young and angry all over again, as if she’d never left Tynedale at all.

“What a good thing it is, Alexander of Gyer, that you’d never have reason to do such a thing,” she said between clenched teeth, praying that she wouldn’t start crying and make a perfect fool of herself in front of him. “If I ever thought you’d come to my room with that intent, I would most certainly be ill!”

But this only enraged him more, and the expression that contorted his handsome features made Lillis’s hands clench in quick fear.

“Have no fear, my lady,” he assured her, “you shall never be subject to such an incident. But even if there were any danger of that event taking place, I would not move you to another chamber. I feel much safer at night knowing that you are so close by. I am a light sleeper, you see, and would know of it instantly were you to attempt an escape. You’d not get past the hallway before I caught you again.”

Lillis laughed at him contemptuously. “Of course you would. The guards outside our door would alert you. Do you think us complete idiots, my lord?”

How long this exchange might have continued, no one would ever know. Willem had been standing by, horrified, watching his brother speak to a lady in a manner he’d never before heard him speak to anyone.

“Alex,” he said, stepping between his brother and Lillis of Wellewyn, “I should be most pleased to offer my chamber to these ladies, if they are unhappy with Mother’s chamber.”

Alexander frowned at him. “I have said they will stay where they are. There is no need to make such an offer.”

“This is so,” Willem agreed diplomatically, “but perhaps it would be best to consider the idea. Lady Lillis and her companion are already being kept at Gyer under unhappy circumstances. It seems a small thing to make them as comfortable as possible.”

Driven by a demon that she, herself, didn’t approve of, Lillis said oversweetly, “Thank you kindly, Sir Willem. You are truly a noble and chivalrous man. It is certain that you’ve taken your vows to God quite seriously.”

Alexander of Gyer’s eyes narrowed. “And I have not? That is what you mean. I have done all that I can to make your confinement at Gyer pleasant, yet you would make me a villain who has no right to call himself knight. I was fool enough to think this morn that perhaps you sympathized with the difficulty of my situation, but I now see that you are as stubborn and thickheaded as your father. I never should have supposed otherwise, Lillis of Wellewyn.”

“Alex!” Willem gripped his brother’s tensed arm. “You know not what you say! Please forgive him, my lady.”

Willem’s words fell on deaf ears, though his standing between Lillis and the Lord of Gyer was the only thing preventing her from slapping Alexander.

“How dare you expect sympathy from those whom you hold against their will!” she cried furiously. “There is naught you could do to make our captivity pleasant, save to let us go free, and well you know it! As to your knighthood, Sir Alexander, you may examine for yourself how well you have kept your vows. I will not be made to feel guilty for your failings.”

He stared at her for a silent moment, then shook off Willem’s hand. “Take them to their chamber. Mother’s chamber. That is where they will continue to stay, and I’ll not argue the matter further.” He gave Lillis an especially aggravated look. “Make certain to lock them up well. It is clear—quite clear—that one cannot trust a daughter of Wellewyn.”

“Oh!” Lillis shouted after him as he strode toward the stairs. “I would rather be the devil’s daughter than have anything to do with Gyer!”

But he neither stopped nor made any reply. In a moment he had made his way out of their view.

Chapter Four

“Damn!”

Alexander slammed his way into his private chamber.

What in God’s holy name had just happened? He could barely remember, though he’d walked away from Lillis of Wellewyn only moments before. He didn’t even know what he’d said to her, exactly. All he knew for certain was that he’d been unforgivably rude, that he’d behaved like a common, ill-mannered lout. What was he about to be speaking to anyone in such a way, let alone to a lady? Especially to Lillis of Wellewyn. Was he not already using her badly enough without hurling insults of the worst kind at her, as well?

“Oh, God!” he beseeched the ceiling and the Being Above. “Tell me I didn’t say the things I think I did. Make it all a terrible mistake of my memory.”

Why had he done it? He paced the room angrily. The very room where that morning they had talked so reasonably with each other. Where he had felt so much admiration for her. And attraction. And desire. God’s mercy! What was happening to him? He was a betrothed man. He had no right feeling such things for anyone but Barbara, no matter how fair Lillis of Wellewyn might be. She was nothing more than his prisoner, and nothing less than his enemy’s daughter. These facts he must not lose sight of. Ever.

Turning sharply, his eyes sought the banner of Gyer, which hung above the mantel. There—the red and the white. The red and the white. Looking at it, Alexander could almost feel his father’s hand closing about the neck of his tunic and dragging him up from the muddy practice field; he could see again the rage on his father’s face, and hear the words, as he’d heard them over and over in his dreams and nightmares.

“Weakling! Stupid, foolish weakling!”

The faces of his father’s men, noble, fighting men whom Alexander revered, were there in his memory, too, some grinning in amusement, some watching in silent sympathy. It had been humiliating, being felled so quickly on his first day of battle training; more humiliating when the tiny blow he’d received had drawn blood; utterly humiliating when the sight of the blood had made him physically ill, right there in front of them all. In front of his father.

Alexander could still see the silk banner his father had snatched from his steed, could remember just how the colors had looked, thrust before his face, mangled in his father’s fist.

“The red is for courage, Alexander!” his father had shouted at him. “The white is for honor! Red for courage! White for honor!”

The colors had blended before his eyes, the silk had felt cold when his father roughly scrubbed Alexander’s face with it.

“Red for courage! White for honor!”

His father had tossed him down, then, and he remembered the damp chill of the earth, and lying there as the men moved away. His father had been the last to go.

“God, but you sicken me,” his father had said. “I’m ashamed to have such a weakling for a son. What honor will you ever bring Gyer?”

Running one hand through his hair, Alexander let out a long, taut breath. It was good to remember that day. Always good. When he thought of that day, he remembered anew the vow he’d made himself, and remembered, as well, that he’d kept that vow. Gyer was his now. His. It was wealthy and strong and secure, as it had never been under his father’s hand, and Alexander himself was one of the most powerful men in England. Nothing was going to threaten that—not memories of his father, not Jaward of Wellewyn, not Lillis of Wellewyn.

Lillis of Wellewyn.

He would apologize to her. God knew he’d done it plenty of times already since he’d met her, once more would make little difference. She would understand. He would explain that he was under a great deal of stress and worry. She would accept his apology. Really, aside from her beauty, she was a most intelligent woman. And quite a worthy adversary. Barbara would have cried and whimpered if he’d spoken to her the way he had to Lillis of Wellewyn this day.

He strolled to one of the several windows in the room and looked at the garden in the bailey below. It was almost time for the midday meal. He wondered if Lillis of Wellewyn and her maid had eaten yet, and he hoped, if they had, that the food had met with their approval.

His prisoners.

What was he going to do with them? He’d been avoiding the question most of the day since his interview with Lillis of Wellewyn had ended.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and a castle page entered bearing a tankard.

“There is new ale just opened, my lord. Lady Baldwin bade me bring you some.”

Alexander gave the boy a curt nod. “Put it on the table, then.”

“Yes, my Lord Gyer.”

“Thank you, Cedric. I’ll be out for the meal in a few minutes. Tell the others to begin. Sir Willem may give the blessing if he is there, and Sir Alan if he is not.”

When Cedric had gone, Alexander returned his gaze to the garden below, considering the choices from among which he must soon choose.

“Alex!”

He smiled before turning to look at Barbara, who stood against his chamber door. How she had gotten in so quietly and why she had closed the door didn’t matter. He was glad to see her there. She would keep his mind from his troubles. Momentarily, at least.

“Hello, sweet,” he greeted softly, and held out a hand to her. She was across the room and throwing herself into his arms in only moments.

“You’re not angry with me, Alex?” she asked shyly, burrowing her head against his shoulder.

She felt good to hold. Comforting. “Why should I be, sweeting?”

“Because of that woman from Wellewyn,” she replied petulantly. “I thought you were angry with me because of her. You spoke so sharply to me.”

He laughed at her innocence. She sounded like a little girl who needed a parent’s reassurance. “Of course I’m not angry with you, dearest.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “It must be very hard to have a stranger in the household and staying in the chamber that will one day be yours. I’m sorry to put you through so much.”

He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Oh, Alex! You are always so kind!” She lifted her pretty little face and gazed at him adoringly with her green eyes. “Kiss me before Aunt Leta comes to find us. I’ve missed you so much all day!”

Alexander could not resist the rosebud lips she offered him, puckered together to receive his kiss. He lowered his head and felt her soft arms sliding around his neck to hug him closer. He let himself draw comfort from her mouth, which opened under his and allowed his tongue to explore. He let himself forget his worries and lose himself in her tenderness. When she pressed her slender body against him provocatively, what little control he had slipped away. One hand tightened around her waist while the other began to roam. Just as he was ready to give way to passion, he felt himself being pushed away.

“Oh Alex,” she said with a sigh. “When will we be married?”

He groaned and tried to capture her elusive lips again.

“When, Alex?” she persisted, her delicate hands pushing at his shoulders.

Alexander drew in a steadying breath and straightened up and away from her.

“I don’t know,” he said, wondering why this subject seemed to come up every time he kissed her. “You know I can make no promises.”

She stiffened beneath his hands. Her eyes were sharp and clear; there was nothing in her to evidence the passion that he was feeling.

“I don’t know why you make us wait!” she declared, pushing at him in earnest until he let her go. “It’s the fault of that woman from Wellewyn! If it weren’t for her wretched father we should have already been married!”

“Barbara,” Alexander said shortly, “we have discussed many times the reasons as to why we are not yet wed.” He went to where Cedric had left the ale, and picked up the tankard. “I’m in no mood to discuss them again. You shall have to be patient.” He took a long drink.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and could almost envision the expression on her face.

“You want her!” Barbara accused, her voice full of hurt. “You find her beautiful!”

“Her?” Alexander repeated with bewilderment. “Who is it you speak of?”

“Lillis of Wellewyn! You won’t marry me because of her!”

“That,” Alexander said, setting the tankard down and moving to pull her into his arms, “is the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard, and you well know it. It is you I want, and none other.” He hugged her more tightly. “You have been dear to me since I can remember. Since I was a boy and even before. Say anything you want to me, but tease me not about about such feelings.”

“Alex.” She sounded as though she might cry. Her arms were clasped firmly around his neck, squeezing him very hard. “I don’t mean to be so childish, my lord, but I cannot help myself. Lillis of Wellewyn is very beautiful, and I hate you having anything to do with her. But I know you’d not be unfaithful to me, for you have ever been kind and honest in your dealings with John and me. It was foolish of me to accuse you of such a thing.”

“It’s all right,” he said with some relief. “We’re both under a great deal of tension, of late. We’ll be married soon, dearest.” He smiled at her, and kissed her quickly. “As soon as possible, I promise. Can you be patient a little longer?”

She returned the smile brilliantly. “Forever, if I must, Alex,” she promised. “Let us speak of it no more. Come and eat, before Aunt Leta starts pounding on the door. You must be starved by now.”

Willingly Alexander gave her his hand, and let her lead him out the door.

* * *

From one of the windows in her chamber, Lillis could see more clearly the garden she had wanted to explore earlier that afternoon. She sat on the wide ledge of the window’s arch and surveyed the inner bailey of the castle, its gardens, the village beyond, and the open land after that as far as she could. It was such a beautiful land, so well kept and settled, so very different from Wellewyn. The sun was beginning to go down, though the rays that fell upon her were still warm and bright. What a different day from the one before with all its rain and misery.

A brief glance toward the bed showed that Edyth was still soundly napping. They had eaten and enjoyed the sumptuous meal that had been brought to their chamber earlier, and had even drunk the wine that had been brought with it. They had not been used to drinking much wine at the convent, except for communion and on the Sabbath and holidays. Not that drinking wine was considered a sin; on the contrary, the sisters at Tynedale fermented and bottled quite a bit of wine each year for their own use. It was, however, less costly to drink well water or goats’ milk with the daily meals, and the wine was used sparingly. In truth, neither Edyth nor she had ever before consumed so much wine as they had that afternoon, and it made both of them feel tired and pleasant.

As soon as they had finished eating, Edyth had stretched and yawned and announced that she would like to nap. With very little encouragement she lay down on the bed and was soon soundly asleep. Lillis smiled with affection at her companion; Edyth always slept the sleep of the innocent. There was never the tossing and turning that Lillis suffered, or the slumberless hours of staring into nothing while trying to blank her mind and go to sleep. Edyth’s was a pure soul and a pure mind. She was content to live a simple and unassuming life. Even her ability to sleep reflected it. Lillis sighed and looked back out the window. If only she were more like Edyth. If only she weren’t so restless, so wanting.

It came from living so many years in the convent, she thought. It had been a quiet and spare life, one filled with daily hard work and sacrifice. During the ten years that she had lived and worked and studied at Tynedale, Lillis had come to respect and appreciate the women who had dedicated their lives to the Lord’s service, for really they had nothing for themselves save the satisfaction of doing what they felt God wanted of them. She herself could not have made a life of such sacrifice. Ten years had been quite long enough.

They had been hard years and sometimes lonely, though she was one of several girls who had lived at the convent. She had studied in the mornings and worked with the orphans or with the nuns during the afternoons. In the evenings there was cooking and cleaning to be done, and from season to season there were always the gardens and livestock to tend. All during the day, at different times, there were masses, prayers and devotions in the chapel, and all were required to attend. At other very specific times during the day, plain meals of bread and cheese, vegetables, a stew or soup, and occasionally a chicken or loin of beef were served. The entire day was spoken for by routine from the moment one rose to the moment one returned to rest, and Lillis had dreamed of and longed for the time when she would be able to spend her days as she pleased.

She’d learned many things at the convent and from the nuns. Truly, if she could go back and have the choice of either staying at home with a tutor or going to the convent, she supposed she would have chosen the latter all over again. In truth, the time she’d spent in Tynedale had been invaluable. The nuns had given her the charge of many responsibilities, including the overseeing of the schoolgirls when she was fifteen and the management of the orphanage at seventeen, and those duties had trained her to be disciplined, strong and very capable.

The thought of one day managing a large household didn’t frighten Lillis in the least—it couldn’t possibly be any worse than managing an orphanage of over one hundred children—and the idea of someday having to live on a very tight budget wasn’t at all daunting. She could cook, clean, garden, make soap and candles, dye and weave cloth, and sew quite beautifully. Indeed, her greatest pleasure at the convent had been her sewing, when she had had a spare moment or two to do it.

She’d made beautiful clothing for herself, for the future, when she would return to her life as a lady, much to the chagrin of the sisters who felt that indulging in any type of outward finery was self-serving and vain. But Lillis refused to feel guilty for trying to make herself more presentable. Goodness only knows that a woman such as she, large and mannish, needed every help she could find, and, too, she’d grown weary to tears with wearing the scratchy white undergarments and plain brown surcoat that all the girls at the convent wore, and of covering her hair with brown wool cloth every minute of the day. She had made herself a promise to keep her head uncovered for as long as she could once she left the convent. The nuns, she knew, would have been horrified.

Edyth had thrived on convent life, but Lillis was ready for something altogether different. She wanted to live and be free to do as she pleased, to marry and have children of her own, to be in love with a man and to be loved in turn. These were the dreams that had sustained her through ten long years.

She had never met her betrothed, Jason de Burgh, or if she had she’d forgotten him. Her father had arranged the marriage and assured her that de Burgh would make a fine husband and a good father, regardless that he was nearly as poor as her father. Perhaps when they were wed, she could help him to make the most of the estates he had, and perhaps she might even come to love him one day. She did hope so. Yes, she hoped so very much. To love the man she married would be the most wonderful thing in the world.

She’d not believed Alexander of Gyer when he said that her father was simply trying to achieve an alliance with de Burgh through her marriage to him. Oh, she could believe that her father would be happy for the circumstance of an alliance with Dunsted, but he wouldn’t have considered de Burgh for her if that man hadn’t met his rigid requirements. Lillis smiled. Alexander of Gyer was, indeed, foolish if he thought her father would marry her away like so much cattle. But perhaps he wouldn’t understand that. He had only ever seen the side of her father that Lillis, herself, tried to ignore. The harsh side, the angry side.

Her father had been that way since her mother had died, when Lillis was four years old. Her memories of her mother were vague at best, but she remembered how passionately her father had loved her. After her death, though, he’d become a miserable, hateful man. The only love he spared was for Lillis. For everyone else he had only impatience and irritation. His servants, vassals and villagers all lived in dread of Jaward of Wellewyn. Lillis had long since determined that she must do what she could to soften him. Once she was married to Jason de Burgh, and living so much closer to Wellewyn, she would devote herself to finding the key to her father’s misery, to solving the reasons for his cruelty.

If she ever got out of Gyer, that was. If Alexander of Gyer ever decided what he was going to do with her.

Chapter Five

“Has Alexander of Gyer come to a decision yet?” Lillis asked as she followed Aunt Leta, making a conscious effort to stay behind her this time rather than in front.

Aunt Leta snorted disdainfully. “You’ve no manners whatsoever to ask such a thing,” she stated. “The training you received at that convent certainly wasn’t as it should have been.”

“I do plead your forgiveness, my lady,” Lillis replied in the wilting tone of repentance she’d been taught at Tynedale, but Aunt Leta only made another sound of disgust.

She waited demurely while Aunt Leta knocked on the door of the same chamber she’d been directed to that morn. Alexander of Gyer called for them to enter and the older woman escorted Lillis in, then left, surprisingly, without being asked to.

He was standing by one of the many long windows in the room, looking out at the setting sun, his hands clasped behind his back. The light, soft and yellow at this time of day, highlighted the multitude of red-gold strands in his dark hair and showed fully the strong features of his handsome face. He did not turn to greet her, and Lillis stayed where she was, waiting.

He was silent a while, then said quietly, “I seem to be forever apologizing to you, my lady. I would ask your forgiveness for my behavior of this afternoon. My words to you were rude and uncalled-for, more so because they were made in the presence of others.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I am sincerely, deeply ashamed, and I can only hope that you will be kind enough to forgive me. You had every right to speak as you did about my lack of chivalry.”

He completed this speech and looked out the window again. The muscles of his face were taut and his hands were clasped so firmly that the knuckles turned white. Lillis cleared her throat and held her own hands together in front of herself.

“I believe, my lord, that I am the one who should apologize. I should not have made the accusations about your honor that I did, and I am fully ashamed of myself. I fear I am possessed of a terrible temper. The nuns at Tynedale used to be hard put to know what to do with me, sometimes.” She offered him a smile but saw that his frowning gaze remained out the window. “But that is no excuse,” she continued, chagrined. “There is never any excuse for a lady to behave so badly. Please forgive me.”

His hands unclasped, and the one side of his face that she could see displayed relief. He ran one hand through his hair, released a full breath, then finally turned to look at her. “It seems we have a truce, then, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he said, smiling with a charming uncertainty that made her knees feel weak. “Perhaps, considering our situation, we are allowed some few shortcomings. You had good cause to vent your anger on me, my lady, while I’d none to countenance my behavior. But I am grateful to you for being so kind as to try to take some of my blame. Come. Let us accept each other’s apology and be done with it.” He walked toward her with one arm outstretched. Lillis put her hand out, not thinking of what she did.

His grasp was warm and strong, and he gently squeezed her hand and arm and smiled into her eyes. Lillis smiled at him, too, yet had no conscious thought of doing so. She was only aware of the strange sensation of being so close to a man, of holding his arm, of being alone in a room with him. Except for that morning, she had never before been alone with any man other than her father. The very thought made her heart beat faster.

She did not know how long they stood thus, clasping arms and staring into each other’s eyes, but it seemed a long time. Slowly Alexander of Gyer slid his hand to hers, taking hold of it and turning it. His eyes moved to gaze at her palm, then, very purposefully, he drew her upturned fingers to his lips and gently kissed them. He looked back into her eyes as his lips pressed against her skin, and Lillis felt herself trembling. He must have realized it, for he immediately lowered her hand and released it.

“Come and share a cup of wine with me, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he invited, turning from her.

Lillis stood where she was and tried to keep her body from shaking. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she didn’t like it. The way his mouth had felt on her—no, she didn’t like it at all.

“Thank you,” she replied out of habit, her trembling voice causing her to wince self-consciously.

“Come and sit, will you?” he said, pouring the wine and setting a goblet for her on his desk, in front of the chair she’d sat in that morn. Lillis sank into the chair gratefully, wondering how much longer she would have been able to stand with her knees shaking so badly.

“Have—have you come to a decision yet?”

Alexander of Gyer didn’t sit across the table from her as he had that morning; instead, he pulled another chair close to hers and settled into it.

“Not yet,” he answered. “I thought perhaps we might discuss the matter further.” He cast her a teasing grin. “If we can keep from fighting each other, that is.”

Unable to help herself, Lillis smiled in turn and wondered, as she did, whether a man more handsome than this existed on God’s earth. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

“I know it is strange,” he continued, “to want to speak with you about such matters. You’ll be thinking me crazed, I suppose. The truth, my lady, is that you’re a most sensible captive.”

“Oh?” Lillis lifted her eyebrows in mock amazement. “There are others to compare me with, then? You make a habit of holding people in your home against their will?”

He laughed aloud. “No, no,” he assured her. “You and your companions are the only ones. I should have said, I think, that you are the most sensible woman I have ever known, instead.”

Lillis forced a smile even though she again felt that twinge of jealous pain. She was a sensible female, never an attractive one.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and with a steadier hand lifted the goblet and took a sip of the somewhat bitter red wine.

He studied her curiously. “Do you know, I find it impossible that Jaward of Wellewyn is your father. There is naught of him in you whatsoever.”

“I take after my mother,” she said. “Did you ever meet her? I’m sure I never met either of your parents, or any of your family, when I was a child.”

He shook his head. “I cannot remember ever meeting your mother, and I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday, when your father informed me of your impending marriage to Jason de Burgh.”

“It is rather strange, is it not,” she said thoughtfully, “for neighboring families to not know one another? Even in Tynedale we knew most of the people for miles around. I wonder how it is that we lived so close to each other and yet never met.”

“I don’t know, though I agree it is unusual. But your father has ever been something of a recluse, and my father and he hated each other, so they had no reason to go visiting.”

“Did they?” Lillis asked with real surprise. “I didn’t know that. Why did they hate each other?”

Alexander of Gyer gave a weary sigh. “I don’t know. I was hoping you might be able to tell me, but it sounds as though you know less about it than I. I’m convinced that whatever was between Jaward and my father is the reason for Jaward’s building the dam. He’s set on revenge, and I don’t even know why. I’ve asked him but he refuses to tell me.”

Lillis frowned into her goblet, watching the red liquid wave back and forth in the cup. She wondered if what Alexander of Gyer said was true. Her father never discussed such matters with her, just as he never told her about the dam or about the tense circumstances with Gyer. It occurred to her that perhaps she didn’t realize the full extent of her father’s vengeful nature.

“I could find out, if you would let me,” she offered.

“No.” The word was final.

“Well—” she smiled at him briefly before returning her gaze to her cup “—it was worth a try.”

They were quiet, then. Lillis could feel Alexander of Gyer’s gaze upon her and somehow could not bring her own to meet it.

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” she finally said. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence, though she sincerely meant the words.

“I know you do,” he murmured, “and I appreciate it more than I can say. You and I share the matter of this problem so closely. Our fathers created this situation, and we are the ones who must set it to rights.”

“This is true, Alexander of Gyer,” Lillis agreed, standing and putting the goblet on the table. She walked to the window where Alexander had stood earlier and gazed out at the growing twilight. “But I have already told you my solution for the matter and you have decided against it. What more can I do? Other than be a complacent prisoner?”

He rose and joined her beside the window, looking at her intently. “Believe me, my lady, it is not you I distrust. It is your father. I have already told you why I dare not take the chance of letting you go to him in the hopes of turning him. He will quickly refuse to do anything that you ask, and I’ll have lost the only power I have over him. It’s too much of a risk.”

“Then let me write to him!” she pleaded, holding out an entreating hand.

He shook his head. “He’ll go to the king the moment he knows you’re here. Impossible.”

With a sound of exasperation, she turned her head to look out the window again. “We are still at odds, then.”

“What about de Burgh?” Alexander of Gyer asked. “What do you know of him?”

“Little, my lord,” she said with a slight shrug. “I’ve not even met him, I don’t think, unless it was as a child. I don’t remember him, if I did. But I thought you had already decided he is plotting with my father. Do you think he might somehow be useful?”

“I don’t know,” he answered thoughtfully. “We’ve never gotten along, as I told you, but even so, I’ve never thought that de Burgh wished to actually war with Gyer. He is an unreasonable, stubborn-headed dog, true enough, but is that reason to make him send his people to their certain demise?”

Lillis ignored this insulting slight to her betrothed and instead offered up a new idea. “I know! I shall make having the dam torn down a contingency of my marriage. If my father wishes me to wed de Burgh he’ll have to tear the dam down first. What could be simpler? I don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier.” Her voice was filled with excitement.

He thought this over briefly, then frowned. “I cannot think your father will tear the dam down for such a reason. He’ll probably threaten to keep you a maiden at Wellewyn your whole life long rather than lose his power over Gyer. You’d have done better to stay at the convent and take up the veil.”

Lillis was undaunted. “Perhaps I could make certain that the marriage contract is written so that I will keep control and ownership of the land after my marriage. I’ll demand that it be made a part of my dower. Would that not settle matters?”

“I should like to see you do it!” he replied with a bitter laugh. “Do you truly think either your betrothed or your father would agree to such a demand after all their careful planning? I doubt it very much.”

“Oh!” Lillis snapped. “I give way! Nothing is acceptable to you. I’ll grow old in this place while you try to make a decision.”

Alexander gazed at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I know this is as unpleasant for you as it is for me. More so, as I have my freedom.” He sighed and raised one arm to lean against the side of the window opening. “What a troublesome knot we must untie!”

Lillis was about to agree when the door to the room flew open. They both turned to find Willem standing there, breathless and tense.

“Alex! There’s a fire in one of the tenants’ villages.”

“Damn!” Alexander pushed from the window, his face pale. “Where?”

“The northern fields.” Willem’s expression was grim. “It’s bad, Alex.”

The Lord of Gyer was already on his way to the door. “Take Lady Lillis back to her room,” he barked, “and meet me at the stables. I’ll gather the men.”

Lillis didn’t need to be told. She obediently went with Willem.

“No one will be harmed, do you think?” she asked anxiously as they made their way up the stairs.

“I hope not,” he replied. “We can only pray that the rains of yesterday will slow the fire and keep it from spreading.”

“Does anyone know how it was started?”

“No,” he said, then added tersely, “Dunsted probably.” She could hear the anger in his voice, and cringed.

Surely Jason de Burgh would never countenance his people doing such a horrible thing! No, the fire must have been started by accident, from a fallen candle or a smoking fire pit. These things often happened; it would make more sense than suspecting someone of deliberately setting it. Lillis hoped this was so. She knew only too well who would be blamed if Dunsted was responsible for the fire.

They reached the chamber door and Willem fumbled with the keys.

“I’m sorry to be so unmannerly, my lady, but you must understand.” He opened the door and fairly shoved her in.

“Of course, of course,” she reassured him. “Please be careful, Sir Willem. I hope you get there in time.”

He nodded his gratitude, then closed and locked the door, leaving her staring at it.

“What is it, dear?” Edyth said, and came up behind her. “What’s happened? How did your meeting with the Lord of Gyer fare?”

“Edyth,” Lillis said, taking her companion’s hand and squeezing it, “I have a dreadful anticipation that we are about to be in more trouble than we presently are. I do believe it might be well if we spent much of this night on our knees.”

Chapter Six

The trip to the Lord of Gyer’s private chamber was becoming a regular journey, Lillis thought the next day as she dutifully followed the servant who had come to escort her. She and Edyth had been woken at an unusually early hour that morn by Aunt Leta, who, in an agitated manner, had told them to rise and prepare themselves, though for what she didn’t explain.

Lillis hadn’t been able to get a word of information out of anyone about the outcome of the fire, though she’d sensed tension and trepidation in every servant who had come and gone in the hours that lapsed between their rising and the summons that finally came from the Lord of Gyer.

The servant and she reached the bottom of the stairs, and Lillis glanced out across the great hall. The sight that greeted her there was totally unexpected. The entire Baldwin family, including the children and the twins, along with what seemed to be the rest of the castlefolk and several villagers, were assembled there. With shock she realized they were all staring at her. Every single one of them. Their expressions were openly curious, as well as condemning, and with a jolt of fright Lillis turned her head and continued on her way after the servant.

Loud, argumentative voices could be heard as they neared the closed doors of Alexander of Gyer’s private chamber, and the servant signaled her to halt. They stood there for some time, listening to the muffled voices that were sometimes pleading, sometimes crying, sometimes yelling, until the doors flew open and Barbara ran out into the hall. Her delicate hands were pressed against her face, so that she did not see where she went, and she stumbled against the wall. She was so distraught and blinded, totally unable to help herself, that Lillis instinctively moved toward her, putting one hand out to support and guide her.

“Lady Barbara, are you well?” she asked with concern, steadying the girl.

Barbara lowered her hands. She swayed momentarily, her wet face a picture of misery, until she realized who it was that helped her.

“You!” she screamed, drawing back and slapping Lillis so hard and suddenly that Lillis was temporarily stunned. She barely had time to realize what had happened before the hysterical creature hit her again, screaming and crying words that Lillis couldn’t understand. Barbara lunged at her with both hands held out, as though to strangle her, but just as suddenly was snatched aside.

“Stop it, Barbara! Stop it!” It was Willem who held the struggling girl, shaking her by the shoulders in an effort to calm her. “Barbara,” he said firmly, “remember yourself.”

Lillis stood dumbly, staring openmouthed at her attacker. Barbara stared back with venom.

“I hate you!” she shouted like an angry child, then ruined the effect with a pitiful sob. “I’ll not let you take what’s mine! I would rather see you dead first!”

This earned her a couple more shakes from Willem. “Be quiet! You don’t know what you say. Take the lady Lillis in,” he instructed the servant who stood close by. “I’ll take care of Lady Barbara.” He dragged the girl away, leaving Lillis staring after them in shock.

“My lady?” the servant asked tersely, causing Lillis to look at him. He eyed her with hostility, as though she’d been the one who’d done the attacking, and motioned her forward with his hand.

Lillis looked at the chamber doors, then squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, crossed herself twice and walked in. The servant shut them behind her.

Alexander of Gyer looked terrible. Once again he stood gazing out one of the long windows, but unlike the day before, his clothes were covered with soot, as were his face and hands. His handsome chin showed evidence of unshaven stubble, and his dark hair was in a state of disorder. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night, indeed, it was obvious that he’d only just returned to the castle.

“My lord, what has happened?” she asked softly, amazed at the timid sound of her own voice.

He turned to look at her, and Lillis shivered. He was furiously angry, she could see it in his face and in his eyes. He looked ready to do violence.

“Four dwellings were completely destroyed,” he answered with equal quietness. “Several others were damaged. It took most of the night to put the fire out.”

“Was anyone—?” She squeezed her hands together until they hurt.

“Killed?” he finished for her in a menacing tone. “No. Thank God! We thought one of the children had been lost, but she was found safe this morn. Aside from the tragedy it would have been, I hate to think what the people of Gyer would have demanded of me if she had died.” His meaning was very clear. Afraid, Lillis lowered her gaze.

“How did it start?”

“Not Dunsted,” he informed her, taking a few slow steps closer, standing in front of her.

Lillis forced herself to meet his intense glare steadily.

“Are you relieved? You have no reason to be. Did you think that was the reason for the tension you feel about you today? For the angered looks from the people of Gyer? You are wrong, Lillis of Wellewyn. I will tell you why my people want me to hand you over to them so that they can deal out justice as they see fit.” His teeth were clenched and his words seethed out. “The fire was started quite accidentally,” he said, “by a smoking fire. Can you imagine? It should have been a simple matter to put it out with only a few buckets of water. Especially after the rains of the night before. And especially because the Eel River ran practically right outside the door of the dwelling involved. Save that it does not run anymore, does it? Thanks to your loving father, the people who lived in that village had to stand by and watch their homes burn to the ground because they didn’t have sufficient water to put out a small, smoking fire.”

Lillis gazed at him, fighting back tears of both horror and panic. Alexander of Gyer stared at her with growing anger. He grabbed her by both arms and shook her, his voice rising with his fury.

“Don’t you dare to look at me like that!” Each word was punctuated with a shake. “I don’t want your damned sympathy! I have people who no longer have a roof over their heads and winter coming fast on their heels! I’ve just spent an entire night listening to their children wailing and to them worrying and wondering what they will do to survive. And all because of your father. Your beloved father.” He spat the words at her. “So don’t dare to stand there and have tears in yours eyes, Lillis of Wellewyn. I’ve not an ounce of pity left to spare you.”

She tried to shake free, but to no avail. Alexander of Gyer held her fast. “I don’t want your pity!” she cried. “Can’t I feel badly about what happened? I’m not the one who dammed the river!”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed bluntly, releasing her, “but your father did, and you and I are the ones who’ll pay for his sins.”

There was something very final about his words, about the way he looked at her, and Lillis felt a shiver of apprehension.

“What—what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve come to a decision, Lillis of Wellewyn, about what I’m going to do with you.”

That stunned her. He certainly seemed angry enough to hand her over to a violent crowd. The thought terrified her, for she knew very well the painful death she’d suffer. Perhaps she had learned how to be brave in the face of a hundred unruly children, but that was the extent of her courage.

“Have you?” she managed to say in a shaking whisper.

“I have,” he said, looking at her directly. “We are going to wed, you and I. The only way that I can get rid of that dam is to have control of the land on which it is built, and the only man who will have control of that land is the man who is your husband. But that man will not be Jason de Burgh, as your father has planned.” He moved closer. “That man will be me.”

* * *

Alexander knew he shouldn’t be seeing her now. He was angry, upset and very, very tired. His emotions had frozen like ice, leaving him with nothing but raw anger. Enraged as he was, he couldn’t be anything but unpleasant to her. But he’d ridden all the way to Castle Gyer, after spending the whole night and some of that morning fighting a fire that wouldn’t stop until it had done its damage, thinking of naught but the decision he’d come to.

They would marry. He and Lillis of Wellewyn. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. It was the perfect solution. They would marry and he would gain control of the lands that came to her through her marriage. He would tear the dam down, settle matters with Jaward and de Burgh, and then let her go. She could go back to Wellewyn, afterward, if she wished. She could go wherever she pleased.

He’d frightened her that morning, though he hadn’t meant to. He had seen immediately when she’d walked into the room that she was anxious, her face pale and drawn, her eyes circled with the exhaustion of a sleepless night.

It had been wrong to see her after having told Barbara of his decision—a task that had been most unpleasant—so that he’d greeted Lillis of Wellewyn with doubled anger. Now, watching her lovely face contort with shock, he was deeply sorry for it.

“You cannot mean that!” she whispered in disbelief.

“I do. We are going to be married. Tomorrow. There is no other way.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, staring at him from wide, panicked eyes, “I will not do it.”

“You will,” he assured her without malice, turning and walking toward his working table.

“I’ll not!” she cried from behind him.

He turned, leaned against the table and folded his arms across his chest. “You will. If you do not, I will ride against Wellewyn with my entire army and utterly destroy it. I will kill every man, woman and child who crosses my path and I will let my men do whatever they wish with whoever survives. Do you understand what it is that I say?”

She did, he saw. Her eyes widened with horror.

“I don’t believe you,” she murmured. “You are a man of peace. You could not do such a thing!”

Alexander was amazed at how cold he was. It was as though he’d died and someone else now lived in his body, someone filled with anger and weariness. “Yesterday I would have agreed with you, my lady, but today I can think of nothing I would enjoy doing more. You may believe what you will about me, but if you do not believe that I shall do as I’ve said then you condemn the people of Wellewyn to their deaths. This I vow before God.”

“But it—it will not be legal,” she said. He didn’t miss the hopeful note in her voice. She looked at him again, a light in her eyes. “It will not be legal!” she repeated triumphantly. “There is no marriage contract. Without a marriage contract approved by both my father and the king, it will not be legal. The land will not be yours.”

“I have arranged with Father Bartholomew at the monastery for the writing of the marriage contract,” he said. “It will be completed this afternoon, and both you and I shall sign it before witnesses. Tomorrow morn we will have a large wedding and mass, attended by the entire village. You will behave like any other happy bride. You will walk to the altar with me willingly. You will repeat your vows willingly. There will be a celebration feast afterward with music and dancing, and you and I will attend and enjoy ourselves for all to see. The marriage will be consummated on our wedding night. The following day your Edyth will take the evidence of the sheet to Wellewyn, along with the marriage contract, to show Jaward. I should like to see him refuse to recognize the legality of our marriage then.”

He stopped and smiled at the thought of Jaward’s reaction. How he would love to be there to see the old man’s face when he saw the sheet and read the letter that Alexander would send with it. His beloved daughter ruined and forced into a loveless marriage, his plans for destroying Gyer turned back on him. All in one master stroke. It would be worth any price to be able to see it.

“I will also send a copy of the marriage contract to the king requesting his approval,” Alexander continued. “I shall have to supply an appropriate excuse for our breach of the law, of course. Perhaps I will tell him that we had to rush the marriage along so that our future child would not be born less than nine months from the wedding date. Would that suit, do you think?”

If it was possible, Lillis of Wellewyn’s face grew even paler. Her hands trembled noticeably and she stumbled to the nearest chair and dropped into it.

“You are very angry now,” she whispered. “You’re not thinking clearly. In a day or two you will be able to consider what you’re doing, and see how wrong it is. I beg you, Alexander of Gyer, do not do this thing.”

He hoped she was right. He hoped he would be able to feel again soon, to think clearly, to regret what he was doing. She was a beautiful, admirable woman. The very least he owed her was sincere remorse.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “I know the situation is—unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant?” she repeated shakily, rising from the chair. “Unpleasant! I’ve spent most of my life in a convent, dreaming of the day when I would be free to marry, to have children and a home of my own. Now you say you will force me into an alliance of convenience for the sake of tearing down a dam that I have already sworn I would tear down myself if you would only trust me!” Her voice broke, causing Alexander’s heart to lurch painfully. He could not bring his eyes up to face her. “I know that you love your Barbara,” she continued when she could. “How could you do this to her, as well as to me?”

“You know nothing of my feelings for my cousin,” he returned coldly. “Barbara is young, I will make certain that she is suitably married. It is you and I who will pay the price for our parents’ misdeeds. I will give up the woman I intended to wed and you will give up your dreams. But you need not fear suffering my advances. I’ll not demand my rights as your husband, and I’ll not force you to remain at Gyer and live a lie. Once the land is legally in my hands you will be free to leave, to return to Wellewyn if you wish, though you must remain my wife. You may live as you please, where you please. You will be made an allowance so that you will never lack for money.”

“You are generous, Alexander of Gyer!” she informed him heatedly. “But if you do this thing, you will be making me your lifelong prisoner, complete, will you not? I may be free to live where I please, but I will still be your prisoner as surely as if I were locked away in that filthy room above stairs. I might as well have stayed at the convent! At least it would have been my choice.”

Alexander made an impatient, irate gesture with his hand. “It is too late to speak of what might have been. We have little choice, either of us, but to accept what is going to be and try to make the best of it. You should be grateful that I’m willing to allow you such freedoms. By all rights, once we are wed, you should be made to live at Gyer, or wherever I please to put you.”

She threw him an angry glare and walked to one of the open windows. “Your kindness overwhelms me, my lord. It is easy for you to speak of what will be. Your life will not change overmuch. You will still have your family, your people. You’ve had a whole lifetime of freedom, already. All I have ever done is dream of it.” Her voice filled with longing. “Now I shall never know it.”

Alexander began to thaw. The sadness in her voice called forth an unwilling response of sympathy in him. He wanted to take her in his arms, comfort her, reassure her that it would not be so bad. He wanted to tell her that he understood how she felt, that he was sorry, that he would take care of her and be gentle with her in every way until she left Gyer. He didn’t seem to be able to find a voice to express these thoughts, however, so he watched in silence as she dropped her head and again fought back tears.

It was a futile struggle and she cried quietly for a minute or two, her shoulders shaking slightly, her hands moving to wipe at her cheeks. And the anger in him continued to melt.

“Lillis—”

“Don’t.” She stopped him. “You have said quite enough, my lord. I thank you. I do not wish to hear more. I understand my circumstances perfectly.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I am a great believer in accepting one’s fate, you know. You could not have picked a better victim for your plan. I’ll not treat you to a fit of hysterics.”