Forcing a measure of boldness into her limbs, and hopefully into her voice, Sarah looked up at him.

He smiled down at her with an expression that held no trace of humor. Instead, she saw a promise that chilled her blood and drew a gasp from her.

“Let me go, William.”

“No. I am not one of your court swains you can order about on a whim. You married a battle-hardened warrior, Sarah. Perhaps it is time you realize what that means.”

Bedded by the Warrior

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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Author Note

William and Sarah. I’ve lost count of the number of letters asking about Sarah’s story. I’m pleased to tell you that here she is, in all her glory.

Sarah’s had a rough life; so has William. It’s about time they found what they’ve been looking for, and what they both need: romance, love and their own happily-ever-after.

Come, join me in the 12th century for a little while. Discover if William and Sarah’s rock-strewn road leads them to what they so desire.

BEDDED BY THE WARRIOR
DENISE LYNN

Available from Harlequin®Historical and Denise Lynn

Falcon’s Desire #645

Falcon’s Honor #744

Falcon’s Love #761

Falcon’s Heart #833

Commanded to His Bed #845

Bedded by Her Lord #874

Hallowe’en Husbands #917

“Wedding at Warehaven”

Bedded by the Warrior #950

To the Readers.

Wishing you all a little romance to lighten your day.

And to Tom who unknowingly lightens my days.

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Romance blossoms in the West!

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A once-in-a-lifetime love.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Queen Eleanor’s Court at Poitiers—May 1171

‘You should be grateful for your freedom.’ The hard edge of warning beneath Queen Eleanor’s words was unmistakable.

Lady Sarah of Remy felt the Queen’s glare against her back as she walked toward the chamber door. Icy fingers of dread clutched her spine at Eleanor’s implied threat.

Unmindful of the voice inside her head urging her to leave the chamber without comment, Sarah turned to face the Queen. Eleanor’s relentless stare prompted Sarah to temper her response. ‘Marriage to a brutal stranger is not worth more than my freedom.’

‘I know you well, Sarah. A temporary marriage to Bronwyn will prove less of a trial than rotting in a cell.’

Sarah trembled at the mere mention of his name. William of Bronwyn was too large and frightening, his shoulders too broad, his manners too coarse. She closed her eyes against the memory of being found naked in bed with him.

The task assigned to her had seemed so simple. Yet, like a bad dream spinning out of control, it had all gone so horribly wrong.

Bronwyn and his friend Earl Hugh of Wynnedom were somehow involved with King Henry. Ever since Archbishop Becket’s death last year, the Queen had become suspicious of anything her husband the King did. Especially when she hadn’t been consulted. Even more so when his secret dealings took place on her lands.

King Henry had been seen with Bronwyn and Wynnedom near the castle. The three men had met with a foreigner unknown to Queen Eleanor and she wanted to know why.

Unfortunately, her questioning of the Earl had produced no suitable answer. In fact, the man’s arrogance had angered her more than his unwillingness to provide the information she wanted. Determined to serve him a taste of his own insolence, the Queen had devised a plan that would place him firmly under her control.

He would be caught compromising one of her favoured ladies—Sarah. Eleanor knew that the Earl’s honour would convince him to wed Sarah, making him a member of her court. She’d been certain that he would then be more willing to share his secrets with her. The Earl of Wynnedom would prove an excellent informant once he realised the benefits of bending to the Queen’s will.

Something Sarah knew well. As the Queen’s spy, she had successfully completed every assigned task—thus far. This task should have been no different.

‘You failed me, Sarah, and left me no choice.’

Sometimes she wondered if Eleanor could read her mind. ‘I didn’t know the Earl was married to Adrienna until it was too late.’

‘Then you should have discovered it sooner.’

And how was she to have done that? While Adrienna was also one of Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting, it wasn’t as if they’d been fast friends.

‘Instead, you let yourself be found in bed with his friend.’ The Queen rose and walked toward her. ‘Sarah, we have been through this already. Even had Bronwyn forced you to do so, he offered marriage.’

‘Offered?’ He hadn’t offered marriage. After the Queen had ordered the four of them—her, Bronwyn, Wynnedom and Adrienna—to leave her court, he’d nearly commanded that they wed.

Waving off her question as if it were nothing more than a flea, Eleanor countered, ‘While the delivery might not have been to your liking, the end result will be the same. You will wed Bronwyn.’

Sarah had been with the court long enough to know that once Eleanor’s anger at being foiled lessened, the Queen could be convinced to see reason. That was why she’d slipped away from Bronwyn in the first place—to hopefully change the Queen’s mind. However, were she to leave the court, how would she ever gain another audience in which to plead her case?

‘My Queen—’

‘No!’ Eleanor’s shout dissolved Sarah’s complaint before it left her mouth. ‘Wed him. Get me the information I seek and then you will have your freedom.’

The Queen paused in front of her and asked, ‘Do you understand me?’

Unable to speak past the lump thickening in her throat, Sarah nodded.

‘Now go. See that you, your new husband and his friends are gone from my court before morning.’

‘What more could one expect from Eleanor’s whore? She is getting no less than what she deserves.’

Sarah held her tongue as she walked quickly past the darkened alcove on her way to the chapel. She heard the snide remarks of the other ladies, just as they’d intended. But she knew any response would be foolish—it would only add strength to the vipers’ tongues.

It wasn’t as if she’d not heard the same spittle repeated numerous times during her prolonged stay with the Queen’s court. So, why now did it sting as much as her father’s hand slapping her face? Sarah held her head high. She’d give no one the satisfaction of witnessing her pain.

Once beyond the alcoves and away from the biting words, Sarah dragged her feet, seeking to delay her arrival at the Queen’s private chapel. She wondered if this was how a condemned man felt as he walked to his death.

Did a sick dread churn in his stomach as he approached the executioner? Did the blood flowing through his veins slow as if thickening from the icy touch of fear?

Regardless of her failure, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She’d been promised more—so much more. For countless months, Sarah had held fast to the sworn promise of a grand marriage.

And now her treasured dreams had turned into a nightmare of doom. Sarah choked back a threatening cry.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to wed—she did. As a young girl, she had come to Queen Eleanor’s court, hoping for many things. Like the other girls and young women sent to court, she had grown up hoping to eventually find a husband.

Not just a husband, but a knighted lord. An honourable man who would care for her, protect her, give her children, a place to call home and a life worth living.

But most of all, she wanted to hold tight to the things she’d gained at court—respite from her father’s sharp tongue and easy rage. And freedom from the harshness of life in a poor keep occupied only by men-at-arms. She couldn’t return to living a life of fear.

Sarah fisted her hands at her sides. She wanted to rail at the unfairness. She’d willingly ruined her reputation by posing as the Queen’s whore—for what? A worthless vow?

Her arrangement with the Queen had seemed simple—if Sarah wished to leave the court under better circumstances than which she’d arrived, she only had to use her appearance of fair-haired innocence, and her wiles, to convince specific lords and ladies to speak freely. Any information gleaned was then relayed to the Queen, who would use the knowledge to her benefit.

In return, Sarah had been promised a wealthy, titled lord as husband. One who could provide the security and safety she’d never had.

Instead, Queen Eleanor was forcing her to wed Bronwyn.

The tears choking her throat were as much from fear of William of Bronwyn as they were at the thought of leaving the court.

Even though she had little reason to believe the Queen’s latest promise, Sarah clung desperately to the slender thread of hope that this time Eleanor would keep her word.

Since the plan had gone so awry, Sarah needed only to marry this man, find out all she could about him and the Earl, and then discover their dealings with King Henry. Once Eleanor had the information, the Queen swore she would ensure Sarah quickly became an eligible widow, with enough gold to entice any man of her choosing.

Sarah’s steps faltered as Bronwyn stepped away from the shadows darkening the corridor and into the light gleaming out from the chapel’s entrance. It was one thing to dupe a man she did not know and would not see on the morrow. But she would see this man every day—and every night.

She held his stare, in a show of bravado, as she resumed her walk down the long corridor. But the thought of being his wife, even for a brief period of time, made her insides tremble.

William of Bronwyn was not just large—the top of her head barely reached his shoulders—he was built of solid rock beneath his flesh. He could easily maim, or kill her, with one blow.

Sarah wanted to faint into oblivion. But fate would not be that kind.

Every fear she’d ever experienced, every memory of harsh cruelness she had ever faced, raced back to grip her chest in a crushing hold. She struggled to breathe, then wondered why she bothered. Would it not be easier if her breath simply ceased for ever?

‘Lady Sarah.’

She stopped just out of his reach, ignoring his extended hand. ‘My lord.’ She couldn’t help the coolness of her tone. At the moment, coolness was the best she could muster.

‘I was not certain you would come.’

‘What choice had I?’ At his frown, she wondered if perhaps he regretted his demand for this marriage. Hope flared anew. She stepped closer. ‘There is no need for us to wed.’ If the Queen would not see reason, perhaps William of Bronwyn could be convinced to do so.

To her dismay, he disagreed. ‘I will not take you from here without the benefit of marriage.’

‘Why not?’ She sought desperately to correct his flawed reasoning. ‘There is no need to concern yourself with my reputation. You can do nothing to ruin it further. That was accomplished long before you arrived at this court.’

William shook his head before directing her towards the chapel’s door. ‘Belittling yourself will not change my mind.’

He made light of her reputation? Did he believe she degraded herself to him out of hand? The questions racing through her mind gave her pause. No man of self-worth would willingly take a harlot to wife.

She knew nothing of this Bronwyn except for the fact he was at court. And while he possessed no title, he was on friendly terms with the Earl of Wynnedom. From what the Queen had claimed, both men were involved in something with King Henry.

Without making it obvious, Sarah studied him. The man was clean. Even though his hair was overlong, light from the wall sconces reflected off the recently washed strands.

The two of them were close enough for her to smell sandalwood—a beguiling scent that called to her senses. Ignoring the effect that scent had on her, she took in his court clothing and well-heeled boots.

The leather wrapping on the scabbard hanging from his side was new. And the hilt of the sword was far too ornate to belong to a lowly man-at-arms.

Oh, yes, this man was drenched in self-worth from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet.

Sarah drew her gaze to his face. From the intensity of his piecing stare, she knew he’d been studying her as well. She needed to be careful and make certain he would discover nothing she didn’t wish him to see.

This could be her last chance to convince him to change his mind. She lowered her head and looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. ‘My lord, I seek not to belittle myself.’ She softened her voice to a whisper, beckoning him to lean closer. ‘I wish only to warn you of the truth.’

Sarah peered up, making certain she’d captured his attention, then continued, ‘You are the Earl’s man. As such, marrying the Queen’s whore can do little to help your status.’

‘Status? I care nothing for what others may think.’

In all her years at court she’d yet to meet one person, man or woman, who cared naught about the opinions of others. She tried again. ‘You may not care at this moment. But some day you will.’

Sarah placed a hand on her chest and glanced into the chapel before appealing to his common sense. ‘Would you have your children know their mother was rumoured to be nothing more than a harlot?’

He stood upright and answered her question by rolling his eyes briefly to the ceiling, before saying, ‘If all rumours were true, I would be a monster from Hades.’

The sudden look of terror distorting her features at his comment surprised him. Surely she didn’t believe such nonsense? ‘Lady Sarah, fear not, for I am human born.’

She remained silent and he wondered for a moment if perhaps he had made a mistake in demanding this marriage. He cared little if his wife-to-be held any regard for him—it would be easier if she didn’t.

While she might consider this entire episode a failure, for him it had provided an opportunity he couldn’t let pass. He wanted someone to help run his household, and bear his children.

His blood warmed at the thought of this woman in his bed. He would gain more than a wife for his keep. He would also have a woman who was not only pleasing to his eyes, but one rumoured to be well versed in bed.

The one thing he didn’t want was a wife who feared him. He could live with her disdain, and cared not if they never found any tender feelings for each other. But he’d had enough of fear.

When he’d left Sidatha’s Palace with Hugh and the others, he’d vowed to put that life behind him. No more would he suffer the taste of the lash. No more would he kill to put food in his belly. And no more would he intentionally seek to make another fear him. Especially not his wife.

One of the women already inside the chapel to witness this union raised her voice. ‘It is only fitting that the whore be given to such a lowly brute.’

Another woman snickered, then added, ‘His rough treatment of her will not be harsh enough in my opinion.’

The urge to give these women the tongue lashing they deserved was wiped away by the look of resignation settling on Sarah’s face. She’d heard the spiteful words and had chosen to ignore them. How many times had she been forced into this same situation?

From the lack of surprise, or outrage, on her part, William could only assume the answer to his unasked question would be—many times.

But something…the paleness of her face, the odd brightness shimmering in her eyes…told him she was not immune to the barbs directed her way. The women’s comments bothered Sarah a great deal.

His resolve to see this marriage through strengthened. No, he hadn’t made a mistake. Even if she feared him now, Lady Sarah was alone in this court. She was without a champion, without a friend.

He’d been a captive all of his adult life. He knew what it was like to be alone in the world. Taken captive before he’d had a chance to be anything other than an overgrown youth, he’d soon learned to keep to himself. He’d quickly been taught to trust no one.

William turned to stand at her side and offered his arm. ‘Come, Lady Sarah. We were ordered to be gone from court by sunrise. But before we join Lady Adrienna and Hugh, we have a marriage to make.’

She stared at his arm without moving. ‘I wish not to wed you.’

‘I know.’

‘Sir William, we are not suited. Would you not rather have someone of your choosing?’

Not suited? They were well suited from his perspective. She’d been given the choice of a cell, or leaving the court. Lady Sarah needed someone to protect her. A woman alone would not fare well outside these walls. Regardless of its appearance, this court was little more than a jewel-encrusted prison, where one did what they were told to do.

‘We are suited for each other more than you realise, Lady Sarah. And if you remember correctly, I did choose you.’

‘That was nothing more than a whim of the moment. Futures are not built on whims.’

‘Many decisions are based on the whim of a moment.’ How many times had he escaped death by making a snap judgement based solely on the man he fought at that moment? But he wasn’t going to explain that to a woman who already showed signs of fearing him. ‘Our marriage will not have been arranged by strangers. Does that not count for something?’

‘No.’ Her answer was a mere whisper.

William harshly reminded her of the choices Queen Eleanor offered, ‘It is this, or a cell.’ He could not imagine Lady Sarah in a dark, damp, airless cell. Rats, the cries of the other prisoners, hunger and bone-chilling cold would quickly take their toll on a court lady.

Her luxurious, pale hair would soon hang in grimed snarls. The fine gown would rot on her body from the constant dampness. As she lost weight from the lack of proper food, the garment would hang in tatters. Her sparkling eyes would lose their shimmer, her lips would soon forget how to smile.

‘You would not fare well.’

Sarah stared up him. The clear blueness of her eyes, large against her pale flesh, took his breath away.

‘You think I would fare better with you?’

The vision of his lovely and desirable wife-to-be wasting away lent a harshness to his voice as he responded, ‘At least you will live.’

She hesitated a few seconds more, making him uncertain if she would bolt from his side again or not. But finally, she sighed in what sounded like defeat, and then tentatively placed her trembling hand on his forearm.

William led her down the aisle, stopping before the waiting clergy. Why the Queen had insisted their vows be witnessed by the Church baffled him.

Legally, they needed to do nothing more than exchange their vows and live as husband and wife. At the most, had the ceremony been left to him, he would have been more than satisfied with the Church’s blessing afterwards.

But William knew he was in no position to argue with Queen Eleanor.

Sarah’s heart pounded so loudly in her ears, she could barely hear the clergy’s words. Instead, two things tossed about in her mind—the woman’s comment about Bronwyn’s rough treatment not being harsh enough, and the way he’d nearly snarled when he’d told her that at least she would live.

Would she? An unstoppable shiver snaked down her spine. Her father had often used his hands—and fists—to demand obedience from all in his care, including at times her mother. Sarah had lost count of the times she’d witnessed some men at court using physical force to control their wives and children.

To most, the aggressive acts were normal…nearly expected. But since coming to the Queen’s court she’d been spared that treatment, so it no longer appeared normal to her. In those years, no one had once raised a hand in anger towards her.

She didn’t know the man standing next to her. She’d met him less than a few hours past. And now, in a matter of mere moments, he would be her husband. He would own her as surely as he owned the clothing upon his back.

Her throat tightened, as another tremor of fear shook her. Bronwyn squeezed her hand. Had he sensed, or felt, her traitorous shivers? Sarah forced the building terror aside.

The ceremony passed in a blur. She paused when the clergy asked if she willingly took this man as husband. Only the memory of the Queen’s thinly veiled threat of a cell, or worse, prompted her to answer, ‘Aye.’

Finally, it was over and she stared up at the man beside her. The man who had just become her husband. Light from the torches ensconced into the wall flickered across his face. Flecks of gold glittered menacingly against his brown eyes.

His hand engulfed hers and she willed herself to remain still. It was one thing for him to know she hadn’t wed him willingly. But letting him sense her fear would give him too much power. She knew well the danger that lay in appearing weak.

The women gathered in the Queen’s private chapel to witness the Church’s blessing twittered. Their hushed voices, and half-giggles, seemed to echo in the well of silence that had fallen over the holy room at the conclusion of the blessing.

Sarah flinched under the spitefulness of their tongues. This was one thing she would not miss. These women knew her not, yet they’d formed an opinion of her based on things they had heard, and thought they had seen. Apart from Adrienna, not one had taken the time to seek out the truth.

Most of them had come to Eleanor’s court for the same reason as she—to find a husband. The only difference was the land and gold they would bring into a marriage.

The father cleared his throat, discreetly reminding them that the blessing was over. They had but to kiss, and then depart from the chapel.

‘I am sorry,’ William apologised, leaving Sarah to wonder if it’d been directed towards her, or the churchman.

All she knew for certain was that he was suddenly leaning closer, looming over her before he brushed his lips against hers.

The chapel again buzzed with whispers and smothered laughter. Sarah knew the women made fun of her, and the man who now owned her. But she refused to cower under their snickers. She wanted to prove their assumptions wrong.

In deference to the Church, she tempered her response, but she still placed her hand against William’s chest, rose up on her toes and returned his kiss.

His lips were warm, and surprisingly gentle. Unlike other kisses she’d encountered, he did not seek to devour her mouth. William barely moved his mouth against hers, and a flash of liquid heat trailed down her spine.

What had been offered as nothing more than a chaste touch of their lips to seal their vows turned to an unspoken promise of shared desire to come.

The snide whispers faded away as she realised that the notion of shared desire did not overly frighten her. Nor did it repulse her.

Confused, Sarah pulled away slowly. To hide her uncertainty, she graced him with a dazzling smile before turning towards the women. One by one they looked away, giving her an odd sense of satisfaction. For the first time, she’d not been the one to avert her face in shame.

Chapter Two

‘Sarah.’ William’s deep voice floated across her ear. ‘It is time to leave.’

As she turned with him toward the double doors, he grasped her hand, asking, ‘Is there any you wish to bid farewell?’

A curt response at the tip of her tongue, she stared up at him. But the twitch at the corner of his lips, and an amused glint in his eyes, stopped her from speaking. He was teasing her. Had he heard the women’s whispers and laughter? Had he somehow understood how much the venom behind their spiteful mocking hurt her?

She leaned forwards, intentionally craning her neck to look around him at the women, and answered, ‘No. I think not.’

William paused to slip his arm across her tense shoulders and pull her closer before turning his focus towards the surprised women. ‘I fault you not for having sense enough to recognise those unworthy of your time or attention.’

He’d raised his voice enough to be heard, and darkened his tone enough to be understood. Sarah couldn’t be certain of what astonished, or befuddled, her more—his open defence of her, or the looks of shock and shame written on the women’s faces.

After once again starting towards the doors, William looked down at her, and she had the sudden sensation of drowning in his golden-flecked soft brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, making it difficult to swallow.

Worse was the way her heart raced, and her chest swelled with an emotion she feared to name.

She didn’t know this man, didn’t trust him. She didn’t want to be his wife. She couldn’t possibly feel anything for him. Nothing at all.

When they left the chapel, Sarah eased out from beneath his arm. She needed to keep her distance from him. And needed to remind herself that he was nothing more than a way to complete this last task for the Queen.

William couldn’t help but notice his wife’s sudden withdrawal once they were away from the women’s sight. He’d wondered why she had responded so ardently to his kiss, and now he knew it had been for the women’s benefit—not his.

Why did that knowledge cause a twinge of regret? It wasn’t as if the act of exchanging vows had changed anything between them. Except that one taste of her lips served to make him want more.

‘Sarah, wait.’ He laced his fingers through hers. William knew better than to let her get away from him, since he had the feeling she would once again bolt at the first opportunity.

After Queen Eleanor agreed to his demand, Sarah had run away from him. He couldn’t be certain, but he suspected she’d run after Eleanor to convince the Queen to change her mind. Obviously her attempt had been unsuccessful.

Sarah tried to free her hand, but before she could say anything, a woman William recognised as another of the Queen’s ladies approached.

‘Lady Sarah, this is from the Queen.’ The woman gave Sarah a small pouch.

His wife opened the jewel-adorned bag to glance inside. Her eyes widened before she reached into the pouch to retrieve what appeared to be enough gold to see them well on their way.

When Sarah tried to hand the pouch back, the woman shook her head and refused to take bag. ‘No, it is yours. Queen Eleanor wishes you a safe journey.’ She glanced shyly from William to Sarah. ‘As do I and I wish you well.’

His wife’s expressive eyes widened for less than a heartbeat, but she smiled and said, ‘Thank you.’ Sarah paused, as if uncertain, and then added, ‘I wish you well also, Lady Elise. May your stay here be enjoyable and brief.’

Elise laughed. As she turned to leave, she advised, ‘Daylight will arrive within the hour. You need to be on your way quickly.’

William nodded his acknowledgement of the warning and started for the chamber he shared with the Earl. But Sarah tugged his arm in the other direction. ‘This way is quicker.’

She knew the castle far better, and since her freedom was also at stake, he would trust her judgement in this. ‘Lead on.’

Sarah took them quickly down a semi-lit corridor, which ended at a landing that ran the length of the Great Hall.

William glanced over the railing into the nearly deserted hall below. His breath caught in his throat.

Richard of Langsford and Stefan of Arnyll were deep in conversation as they approached the stairs leading up to the landing.

Without thought, William grabbed Sarah. He ignored her gasp and dragged her into a small, unlit alcove.

The sight of Langsford didn’t bother him. That man was nothing more than a bully and a drunken fool—a useless pawn of the Queen’s in her ceaseless attempts to thwart the Earl.

But Arnyll was another matter. What was that soulless son of the devil doing here?

Like William, Arnyll had also been captured and sold into slavery. When Hugh had won his freedom and the lives of three others, he had requested that Arnyll be included only because the man was a fellow countryman.

William had felt sorry for the smaller man’s plight, when Arnyll had first been tossed into Sidatha’s dungeon. William had taught Arnyll how to use speed and agility to conquer his opponents. The two of them had often been paired together, literally fighting back to back, as one.

However, Arnyll had soon shown his true character. The man had proven to be as bad as, if not worse than, the slave master Aryseeth.

The memory of a scrawny dog that William and some of the others had saved from the cook’s pot flooded his mind. He fought not to tremble like a spineless fool at the memory. They’d hidden the starving mongrel for months—until Arnyll, in a fit of spite over an extra portion of bitter wine given to another, had told Aryseeth of the animal. The very next morning they had all learned how futile their attempts to preserve the dog’s life had been.

The men’s footsteps drew nearer. They were so deep in conversation neither man had noticed William and Sarah on the landing.

William dropped on to a stone bench in the dark corner of the alcove, and pulled Sarah down on his lap. Most times it was near impossible to hide his size. With any luck the appearance of lovers in a private tryst might work. It might also provide the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop on the men’s conversation.

When she pushed against his chest in a futile attempt to escape, he wrapped one arm around her to hold her close. Certain she’d not remain silent for much longer, William wove his fingers through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers.

She gasped against his lips, and he whispered, ‘Be still. I will not harm you, but Arnyll would.’

Sarah frowned. Arnyll? It only took her a few moments to realise that he spoke of Stefan. She’d seen the cur Richard with Stefan in the hall, and had witnessed William’s reaction in confusion.

If these men caused a brute like him to act in such haste, perhaps she’d be wise to follow his lead.

Keeping her voice soft and low, she warned him, ‘This is only for appearances, it is not real.’ She felt him smile against her lips as she raised her arms and clasped her hands behind his head.

She narrowed her eyes, wishing she could see his face in the dark. For a reason she could not name, Sarah had the feeling that his smile would be smug, and that his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

Unfortunately it was becoming apparent that she’d not married a man lacking in wits. That could prove a detriment to her task—and perhaps a danger to her.

Above all else, she needed to make certain William didn’t learn she was still under the Queen’s orders. He would never understand. No man would take kindly to know that, regardless of their vows, their wife still answered to another.

Richard and Stefan’s conversation grew louder as they approached the alcove. Sarah could almost make out some of their words, and what little she heard set her mind spinning. There was disjointed talk of a task being successful.

Only someone involved with court intrigue would be able to make sense of the snatches of overheard conversation. They spoke of the Queen and her, but it was doubtful if William would be able to piece the snatches together.

She hoped his hearing was not as attuned to the hushed voices used at court as hers. Because the task the two men discussed was the one she’d recently failed completing.

They’d done their part—the two of them had kidnapped Adrienna, preventing her from seeking out Wynnedom. Even though none had known about their marriage at the time, all had been aware that the pair were always together. So, the kidnapping had been deemed necessary to enable Sarah to be found in the Earl’s bed.

But some niggling thought had urged Sarah to see to Adrienna’s release. That was when she’d learned about their marriage.

Sarah wasn’t certain if either Richard or Stefan knew she’d been the one to release Adrienna. Nor was she certain they knew of her marriage to Bronwyn. She wasn’t eager to discover what they did or didn’t know.

She moaned softly, so only her husband could hear, and pressed harder against his chest. It was all she could do not to sigh with relief when William relaxed his arm and stroked gentle circles on her back.

Perhaps Queen Eleanor had been right. After all, William was just a man. And maybe like the other men at court he could be easily swayed.

She’d learned early on that a soft smile, a teasing look, or a brief touch against his chest, or arm, went a long way towards convincing a man to see things her way. Seldom had she been forced to resort to making promises that would never be kept.

When Richard and Stefan walked in front of the alcove, her heart beat so hard she thought it would burst. Silently she prayed they would say nothing to give her away. She feared William finding out that she still spied for the Queen more than she feared discovery by these men.

William tightened his fingers against the back of her head and covered her mouth with his lips. Sarah’s pulse raced even faster. There was nothing gentle about the way he held her close, or teased her lips until they parted as if under their own will.

He kissed her thoroughly, wiping away any thought of the men, or the Queen, from her mind. She could think of nothing except the heat rushing through her veins, melting her resolve to keep herself distant from this man she’d wed.

The only thing that filled her mind, the only thing she could concentrate on, was the sure and certain magic of his mouth moving against hers. And on the heady warmth he traced along her lips.

When he ceased his kisses, Sarah quickly realised that he no longer held her close. Instead, she clung to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders.

She quickly pulled away. Folding her hands in her lap, she drew in a deep breath, seeking a measure of calm against the storm still raging in her chest. Never had a man’s kiss affected her so.

She corrected her earlier assumption about how easily he could be swayed. The Queen had been wrong—William of Bronwyn was not just another man.

‘I think they are gone.’ His breath raced hot against her ear. He leaned closer, to ask in a heated whisper, ‘Are you sure nothing about that kiss was real?’

Sarah nearly lunged from his lap, suddenly wondering if she’d wed a rogue.

He rose from the bench and brushed by her, taking her hand in his as he passed. ‘Come, we need to join Hugh and Lady Adrienna, then leave this court.’

Still uncertain how he had so easily stolen her wits, Sarah wordlessly led him to the chamber.

Chapter Three

Daylight barely filtered through the denseness of the trees when William’s senses alerted him to danger. A quick, but thorough, study of the woods and bramble surrounding them gave no clue to the unease pricking at him. He’d long ago learned to depend on his gut reactions, and while he saw nothing, he was certain they were being followed.

After visually checking on Hugh and Adrienna riding a short distance ahead of them, he glanced across the path at his wife. Her features were as strained as they’d been when leaving Eleanor’s castle. William doubted if her unease was caused by anything more than outrage at being forced to marry him, and her unwitting response to his kisses.

A response that promised him more than words ever could.

He’d heard the rumours about Sarah being the Queen’s whore. How could he not? They were bandied about the court so often that it would have been impossible to miss them.

He hadn’t demanded this marriage out of any feelings he had for the woman. He’d done so to offer her protection and to gain a wife for his keep.

It seemed a good choice for all concerned. She would be spared the horrors of a cell, or the danger of life alone outside the court. And he would have the benefit of a wife without any emotional attachment. In addition he’d gain an experienced woman in his bed, not a simpering, frightened virgin.

Perhaps the appearance of Langsford and Arnyll had been a blessing. It had given him the opportunity to witness Sarah at work firsthand, instead of watching from afar.

He’d heard the men’s voices as they had neared the alcove. Although he had been unable to hear their words, Sarah’s reaction made him aware that she had heard them. At first, her response to his closeness had been tentative.

But the nearer the men had come to the alcove, the louder their voices had become, the more passionate she had acted. For some reason, Sarah had felt it necessary to make certain he hadn’t heard what the men had been saying.

He wasn’t some court dandy that she could ply with her wiles in an attempt to distract him. While knowing that Sarah had secrets so dire she needed to keep them from him did not please him in the least, it had been interesting—near amusing—to discover that turning the tables served to fluster her.

‘What is wrong?’

Sarah’s question startled him out of his musings. ‘Nothing.’

‘Ah, so not only are you thick-headed, you lie, too.’

Certain he couldn’t have heard her correctly, he looked at her, asking, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I did not live this long without learning to read a person’s expressions.’ She studied him intently, as if looking for something, and then explained, ‘Your frown, the stiffening of your body, and your sudden interest in our surroundings—all tell me that something is wrong.’

‘It’s nothing that concerns you.’

Sarah reached up and flicked a braid over her shoulder. ‘No, of course not.’ She paused to smile and flutter her eyelashes before adding, ‘I am but a simple woman with not a care in the world, nor a useful thought in my head.’

They weren’t in the castle; they were no longer at court. There was no need for her to put on such airs, or take such a snappish tone with him.

William was certain there were two ways to get her to drop her play acting—seduction or an insult. At the moment, seduction would be rather difficult. He stared hard at her and said, ‘Simple woman? No. I am guessing you have all the makings of a shrew.’

Instead of flinching away in shame, or becoming angry, as he had hoped, Sarah’s laughter rang loud, chasing the birds from their perches overhead. ‘Perhaps you might have discovered that before insisting I become your wife.’

Not quite the response he’d expected, but she was right. ‘I imagine there are a great many things I might have discovered about you beforehand…had I the time.’

‘Do not place that blame on me. It wasn’t my idea to wed.’

‘No, but you didn’t argue too much about being discovered in bed with me.’

A faint tinge of red covered her cheeks, but Sarah didn’t turn away. ‘You know that I had a task to perform for the Queen. What other choice did I have?’

She might not have had a choice then, but she had choices now. ‘I find it all rather odd.’

She curled her fingers tighter around the reins, but calmly asked, ‘How so?’

‘Even after Eleanor ordered you from her sight, you ran away from me. I can only assume you went to seek refuge from the Queen. Why is that?’

‘I wanted her to stop this marriage.’ Sarah reached over and briefly touched his arm. ‘It was nothing personal, William. I simply did not wish to be forced into a marriage so quickly.’

He looked down at her hand just as she jerked her arm away. ‘Becoming someone’s wife is very personal.’

‘It need not be.’

‘Some marriages, perhaps. But this one will be.’

‘How so?’

William folded his hands atop the pommel of his saddle. ‘I knew what was said about you when I requested this marriage.’

‘Requested?’ She leaned slightly away and stared up at him. ‘You never requested that I wed you.’

He shrugged. ‘Regardless, I took you as wife, knowing you were the Queen’s whore.’

‘I tried to talk you out of wedding such a woman as I.’

Ignoring her, he continued, ‘In return, I expect little from you.’

‘Then that is what you will get.’

William tightened his fingers around the top of the pommel, holding his temper in check. For whatever reason, Sarah was itching for an argument. If she wasn’t a little more careful, she might get more than what she wanted.

‘You are alone in this world, Sarah. There is no one to take care of you, or to protect you, except me. If you desire that security, you need to learn to trust me. You have no other choice.’

He lifted his gaze to capture hers. ‘Tell me again, how can two people sharing a life, a home, a name and a marriage bed not be personal?’

‘We have shared no marriage bed.’ She held his stare, while adding, ‘Nor will we.’

‘Oh?’ Her direct challenge surprised him. Didn’t she realise he’d not ignore her dare? He wanted to tell her that one day she would be more than willing to come to his bed. But he fought to hold his comment back. Finally, he asked, ‘What makes you think we won’t share a marriage bed?’

All colour left her face at the mere suggestion that she couldn’t stop him. Sarah turned away, stiffened her back and stared out over her horse’s head. ‘You would not force me.’

He didn’t believe he’d have to force her. But why did the idea frighten her so? And she was afraid. He knew what fear looked like from experience. He could see her fear in the stiffness of her bearing, in the paleness of her face and heard it in the hesitant, less certain, tone of her voice.

The need to ease her worries prompted him to move closer, to uncurl her fingers from the reins and take her hand in his. William lifted her hand to his lips and dropped a chaste kiss on her knuckles. ‘I doubt if force would prove necessary, my lady.’

Sarah jerked her hand free. ‘You have a high opinion of yourself, my lord.’

‘Perhaps. But there is not a man alive who would dismiss your challenge.’

‘I issued no challenge.’

‘No? Do you truly think me that naïve?’ At her bewildered look, he explained, ‘Your ruse is as ancient as time. An experienced woman boldly tells a man that she will not share his bed, knowing full well that it will be a challenge he cannot refuse. You have no secrets in that regard. Every man knows she does it intentionally, Sarah, in expectation of eventually losing the chase.’

She parted her lips, then clamped them tightly together without saying a word.

Her reaction baffled him. He expected more of an argument from her. William moved away. His wife was a ball of mass confusion wrapped in beautiful finery.

He glanced sidelong at Sarah again riding silently beside him. A man in his position would never imagine himself wed to one as lovely as Lady Sarah.

She turned briefly to glare at him and he hid a smile of amusement. No battle to the death had made his stomach knot, or sweat bead on his forehead in such a manner. Yet, this little bit of a woman sent his body, and mind, reeling with nothing more than a glance his way.

And when she once again turned away, a cold wind swept over his body, leaving him strangely bereft of warmth. He sighed at this unfamiliar womanly nonsense teasing at him.

After once again surveying the area for someone following them, and finding nothing, William wondered if he’d imagined the feeling of danger.

Maybe their hasty exit from Eleanor’s court, combined with his even hastier marriage, had made his senses overwrought. His weapons were at hand, and Hugh was also well armed. So, for now, William would set aside his worry.

For a more pleasurable distraction, he concentrated once again on his wife. The women in the church were justified in their jealousy. Despite a crooked nose and a thin scar cutting across one eyebrow, Sarah was a vision of beauty.

Besides her blonde hair, the first thing one noticed when looking at her was the vivid blueness of her eyes against the unblemished paleness of her face.

He briefly wondered how many men had wished to drown in those eyes. As his attention retraced her nose and the scar, he realised that at least one man had not wished to lose himself in her gaze. Had that been the reason for her sudden fear of him?

‘What are you looking at now?’

‘You.’

‘Why?’ She swiped a hand across her cheek. ‘Is something amiss?’

‘No, everything is in place. I was just admiring your beauty.’

Sarah’s eyes widened before she schooled her features into a mask of contempt, then turned her face away. The forced look didn’t bother him. He’d witnessed her doing the same thing to others at Eleanor’s court. While they may have been put off by her contemptuous expression and left her alone, he knew exactly what she was doing and wouldn’t be intimidated quite so easily.

‘I cannot believe that none have commented on the fairness of your features.’

‘Aye, they have. When they either wanted something, or were so far gone in their wine that they knew not what they were saying.’

‘I know exactly what I am saying, and I already possess all I desire.’

‘And what is that?’

‘You.’

At his answer Sarah swung around to face him. ‘Me?’ Shock fired her cheeks before she shook her head in disbelief. ‘We just wed, and yet already you count me as one of your possessions?’

William cringed at the idea. He knew what being a possession entailed. ‘That is not what I meant.’

‘But isn’t that what a wife is?’ Her voice rose, and she paused to swallow hard before adding, ‘Just another item to add to your assets?’

‘My assets?’ He shook his head at the absurd statement. His possessions amounted to his weapons, the armour on his back, the horse beneath him, and the promise of gold coin and a keep from King Henry. The weapons and armour he could always count on. The promise, however, was nothing more than words and counted for little. He’d not yet seen the gold, or the keep.

He kept a tight rein on his voice as he answered, ‘Oh, aye, Lady Sarah, that is all a wife is to me. Simply another possession. One to use when, and how, I see fit.’

A red haze clouded her vision. Sarah parted her lips to spew curses at him. Just then she caught sight of a glint of humour in his eyes, and she knew instantly that he’d baited her. She closed her mouth, giving him her fiercest scowl and watched in disbelief as he burst into laughter.

When his mirth calmed, she said, ‘You did that on purpose.’

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and asked, ‘Me?’

‘Yes, you, William of Bronwyn.’

‘Perhaps I did. But teasing you is a far cry from keeping secrets from your husband.’ He reached over and caught her chin before she could turn away. ‘Would you not agree, Sarah of Bronwyn?’

She wanted desperately to close her eyes. To shield herself from the accusation and distrust in his unwavering stare. But to do so would give proof to her guilt. She couldn’t do that. Not yet.

The pouch Lady Elise had delivered from the Queen contained more than a measure of gold. A brief missive had been included. One that only reconfirmed the importance of gaining the information Queen Eleanor wanted.

Sarah willed her eyes to stay open and her breathing to remain calm. It would not be the first time she’d been forced to lie; she could only pray it would be the last time.

For the moment, instead of lying, she thought it best to feign dull-wits. ‘Do I not agree with what?’ She pulled free of his hold. ‘Are you accusing me of something?’

‘You were so afraid I might have overheard Langsford and Arnyll that you thought to distract me with your charms. A dangerous distraction considering you don’t know me well enough to feel that safe in my arms. You can’t deny it.’

The man was far too quick-witted. Sarah realised that staying one step ahead of him was going to prove difficult at best. Eventually, if she did not keep her wits about her, he would discover her guise of whore was nothing more than a fabrication.

She didn’t fear that overmuch, because she doubted if William would be offended to discover his wife was not a harlot. But instinct warned her his reaction would be far from accepting if he learned she continued working for the Queen. Forcing an affronted tone to her voice, she asked, ‘Deny what?’

‘That you are keeping secrets from me.’

‘I can, and do, deny it. What could I possibly gain from doing so?’

‘I know not. I’m waiting for you to tell me.’ He leaned back in his saddle as if content to wait all day for her answer.

He’d wait longer than that. Sarah wasn’t about to tell him anything. She stared directly between her horse’s ears and set her jaw.

William chuckled softly. ‘You can ignore me now, Sarah. But some night in the future, when it’s dark…’ he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers ‘…after the fire has burned low…’ he deepened his voice to a spine-tingling timbre ‘…and we’re wrapped in nothing but each other…’ William leaned across the distance separating them to promise ‘…you will tell me.’

Chapter Four

The campfire crackled, providing light and warmth in the small clearing where they’d settled for the night. After their weeks at court, William and the Earl had decided to spend the night some place quiet, and less confining. So, they’d made camp just off the side of the road instead of seeking shelter in the next town.

Stiff from hours on the back of a horse, Sarah would have preferred the softness of a bed. But she’d no wish to argue something so minor. Instead, a blanket on the hard ground would have to do.

Seated on a log facing the fire, she stretched her legs and savoured the warmth. Without appearing too interested, Sarah returned her attention to the men’s conversation about Arnyll.

Earl Hugh snapped a dead tree limb, and then tossed it on to the flames. ‘I am surprised you did not slay him in his tracks.’

William shrugged. ‘I didn’t think that would much please the Queen.’

‘True.’ Hugh laughed softly.

Adrienna, seated on the log next to her, leaned over to ask, ‘Remember Lady Waltrop’s reaction upon discovering that old man’s body in the Great Hall?’

Even though the man’s unexpected demise had been far from humorous, Sarah laughed at the memory. ‘Queen Eleanor thought Lady Waltrop would perish of shock.’

Adrienna’s burst of laughter sent Sarah into another bout of giggles. When she caught her breath, she admitted, ‘I fear I would have been more than surprised myself had I been the one to find the man slumped in the corner staring at me over my morning repast.’

Hugh asked, ‘How did he die?’

‘No one knows.’ Sarah explained further. ‘He was far beyond his prime and there were no signs of any injury.’

‘I could not help but feel sorry for him,’ Adrienna mused, then she asked, ‘Did anyone ever discover his identity?’

‘I can’t remember his name, but he had been one of the Queen’s guards in his younger years. Since he was so ancient and had no place else to go, she had kept him in her service doing small details for his…food…and…’ Realising the other three were staring at her, she let her explanation trail off, and instead asked, ‘What is wrong?’

‘Nobody else seemed to know who he was.’ Adrienna asked, ‘So, how did you know?’

William’s stare pierced her through the fire. ‘It is a little odd that you would know those details.’

‘Odd? How so?’

Earl Hugh said, ‘A man’s position, his wealth, or lack of wealth, isn’t something the Queen, or any lady of the keep, would openly discuss with one of her ladies-in-waiting.’

‘Oh.’ Sarah swallowed a curse. How could she have been so careless? She quickly sought an explanation. ‘I told you that I had been acting as a spy for the Queen. She must have mentioned it to one of her men when I was present.’

Adrienna relaxed at the admission, but said, ‘It must be a relief not to have to perform such vile tasks any more.’

Without taking her gaze from Adrienna, Sarah knew William was watching her closely. She could feel his attention burn across the distance. She was well aware that he had sensed something was wrong—he hadn’t figured out what that something was, just yet. He was waiting for her to make a mistake that would give him the hint, the clue he needed to put it all together.

Sarah let her shoulders slump as she sighed. ‘Oh, yes, it is a huge relief.’

‘I don’t know which would have been worse—spying for the Queen, or having the reputation of being a…whore.’

Before Sarah could answer, William said, ‘Reputations physically harm no one. But spying for one’s master can harm many and end in death.’

Sarah’s stomach clenched. The Queen had hinted at William’s death being the way for Sarah to remarry. While she had no wish to remain wed to him, neither did she desire his death. She turned to look at him. ‘I have harmed no one. And I can assure you that nobody has died because of some crumb of information I may have passed on to the Queen.’

‘How can you know that for certain?’

In all honesty, she couldn’t be certain. But with the pained expression furrowing William’s brow, and the tightness of his mouth, she wasn’t about to admit that to him. ‘It wasn’t as if I had gathered information of any great importance.’

‘Even a tiny scrap of information in the wrong hands becomes important.’

‘William, cease.’ Earl Hugh placed a hand on William’s arm.

While Sarah wondered at William’s emotional response, Lady Adrienna brought the conversation back to the Queen. ‘You said the Queen permitted her elderly guard to remain in her court?’ She shook her head, admitting, ‘I didn’t know Queen Eleanor could be that soft-hearted.’

Sarah assured her, ‘She often treated her subjects with more kindness than many could imagine.’

‘Oh, yes.’ William stared at her. ‘The Queen’s compassion is apparent to all of us.’

‘I said often, not always.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Other than this instance, she’d always treated me…justly.’

William noted Sarah’s hesitation. Had ‘justly’ been the correct word?

‘Justly?’ To his surprise, Lady Adrienna badgered Sarah, asking, ‘How can you say that? If using you to do her underhanded bidding was just, then I am truly thankful she never saw fit to treat me thusly.’

His wife’s eyebrows rose as she turned to answer Adrienna. ‘Ah, but you came to the court as a woman fully grown, with gold in hand and prospects of a grand marriage. I came as an unwanted child, with nothing more than the ill-fitting clothes on my back. Queen Eleanor gave me a safe place to sleep, enough food to eat, and permitted me the opportunity to learn how to read and write.’

Sarah plucked at the skirt of her gown, a golden-hued garment fitted more to the court than for travelling. ‘I am indebted to the Queen for everything. The clothing I now wear.’ She raised a hand to the jewelled clips decorating the ends of her braids. ‘And even for the little trinkets that you would take for granted.’

‘I am sorry.’ Adrienna touched Sarah’s arm. ‘I—’

‘No.’ Sarah leaned away from Adrienna’s touch. ‘I am not seeking your pity. I have no complaints with my lot in life. I sought only to explain why I am beholden to the Queen.’

William tossed Sarah’s words around in his head. He rose from his seat next to Hugh. ‘You are wrong, Sarah.’ After assisting Adrienna to her feet, William took her place on the log. ‘Those days are over. You are not beholden to her. Queen Eleanor is no longer your master.’

‘Master?’ Sarah frowned. ‘What a strange way to refer to the Queen. It was not as if she owned me.’

‘Then how would you describe it?’ Hugh asked from across the fire. ‘You depended on her for food, shelter and clothing. In return she used you any way she saw fit. Is that not the relationship between a servant and a master?’

‘No. It was more that I performed services in exchange for her generosity through the years.’

‘Since she had accepted you into her court, I can only assume that she had made a promise to your father to care for you.’

“I suppose.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘I have not spoken to my father since he left me with the Queen.’

William asked, ‘How long have you been with the court?’

‘About twelve years. I was not yet seven years old when my father brought me to court. He did so only because he had not the gold to foist me off on the Church.’

Sarah didn’t know it, but they had more in common than she realised. She had been under the Queen’s rule nearly as long as he’d been a captive. William sidled a little closer to her. ‘And your mother?’

Sarah stared into the fire for a few moments before she finally answered in a whisper, ‘I barely remember her.’

‘Did she die?’

‘Not exactly.’ Sarah picked up a twig and snapped it into little pieces.

William glanced towards Hugh and Adrienna. They sat forehead to forehead, talking softly to each other. He drew his attention back to his wife. Covering her shaking hands with one of his own, he asked, ‘What happened?’

She turned her face away and tugged to free her hands. He moved closer; putting an arm across her shoulders, he forced her to lean against him. ‘What happened, Sarah?’

‘I killed her.’ Her trembling voice was barely above a whisper.

‘At six years old? I doubt that, Sarah.’ Who in their right mind would convince a child of such vile nonsense? ‘How did she die?’

For a few moments he didn’t think she’d answer him, but finally, she said, ‘I had been playing with my baby, on the stairs, when the nursemaid called me to get ready for bed.’ Sarah paused for a heartbeat as if trying to remember the incident. ‘Later that night, I was awakened by my mother’s scream. She tripped over the doll I’d left behind and fell down the stairs.’

William tightened his embrace. He lowered his head and whispered against her ear, ‘That was not your fault.’

‘Yes, it was. My father carried her and the doll up to the bedchamber. After she’d taken her last ragged breath, he threw the doll at me, shouting that I’d killed his wife and unborn child. He then ordered me to take my cursed toy and leave his sight for good.’

William’s heart ached for the child. He could only imagine her fear and confusion. ‘Ah, Sarah, he didn’t mean that. His angry words came from grief.’

She struggled against his chest, gasping, ‘I can’t breathe, let me go.’

He relaxed his hold, but didn’t release her. When her breathing calmed, she said, ‘My father had meant exactly what he said. I hid in a tower chamber, and ate only when someone remembered to bring me food.’ She touched her crooked nose. ‘And I quickly learned to stay out of my father’s sight.’

Speechless that a father could treat a child so, William kept his mouth shut. The man’s responsibility had been to protect her—to care for her, not place her in danger. Above the sound of blood rushing through his head, his mind shouted, She was but a babe herself. How could you?

The feel of Sarah’s fingers against his cheek drew him from the sudden, evil urge to kill the man with his bare hands. ‘William, do not.’

He shook his head, trying to clear away the vicious thoughts of revenge. ‘Do not what?’

‘Do not fret for the child. She survived.’

Survived? He knew exactly what it was to simply survive. He’d done so by using his wits and size. As a child, she’d had neither. She’d deserved more than simple survival. He covered her hand with his own. Rubbing his cheek across her palm, he kissed it, then asked, ‘How did you come to be with the Queen’s court?’

‘My father’s men convinced him to take me to the nearby abbey. But when he discovered that he would have to pay for my keep, he refused to do so. After that, they had to bully him into bringing me to the King and Queen. The men thought perhaps Henry or Eleanor might be better able to find me a family in which to foster.’

‘Yet, the Queen kept you at court instead of finding you another place. Why?’

‘I don’t know.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘By then it did not matter to me. I’d learned not to care. If I simply did as I was told, I would have food and shelter. What else was there?’

Food and shelter. He was amazed that at six years old she’d managed to think and survive as an animal would.

‘What of your father?’

‘I’ve neither seen nor spoken to him since the day he left me at court.’ She sent him an uneven half-smile. ‘It is probably better that way.’

There was little wonder that she’d done whatever the Queen had asked. He now understood why Sarah felt the Queen had treated her justly. His wife would have felt indebted to any who had shown her anything other than anger.

He reached out and cupped her cheek, drawing her closer. Uncertain what to say, or do, William only wanted to offer her a measure of comfort.

Sarah closed her eyes as his breath rushed warm across her cheek. In her hope to make him understand the things she’d done, she had said too much, revealed more than she’d ever intended. Worse—she’d given him the impression that she needed his compassion, his pity, when she wanted neither.

Before he could kiss her, she placed a hand against his chest and held him away. ‘William, don’t.’

He leaned back. Confusion furrowing his brows. ‘I—’

‘No. Do not feel sorry for me. I am no longer that child. What happened to her has no bearing on my life today. I do not need, or want, your pity.’

‘No bearing?’ He lowered his arms from around her. ‘It has impacted your every action.’

‘Do you at least understand why I do not see Queen Eleanor, or her requests, in the same light as others may?’

While it was true that Sarah did not know the chafe of ankle irons, or the weight of chains, she had been as much a slave as he. ‘I may see it, Sarah, but I do not agree she was right in making those decisions. She used your circumstances against you.’

Now Sarah shared William’s confusion. ‘Isn’t using another person simply the way of things? Aren’t most marriage contracts formed on the basis of what each party brings to the union? Are not keeps fortified with men suited to their position? I do not understand what you think Queen Eleanor did wrong.’

William traced the outline of her jaw. ‘I have not the words to argue with you. But, Sarah, now that you are out from beneath the Queen’s control, you will find that your life can be different than the one you’ve known.’

Except she wasn’t out from beneath the Queen’s control. Her life would always be the same. She couldn’t very well tell William that, though. Instead, she glanced at a spot just beyond his shoulder and said, ‘We shall see.’

He leaned slightly to the side, coming directly into her line of vision. He’d let her know, without words, that he’d seen her ruse. Most people never realised that while her face was pointed in their direction, she wasn’t actually looking at them.

It only confirmed her belief that this husband of hers was too clever by far.

William rose. ‘I will see to the horses.’ He leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘Then we can retire for the night.’

She said nothing. But after he’d left, Sarah glanced nervously at the darkened sky. Normally she welcomed darkness and the solitude it brought.

Regardless of the season, she would wander the castle walls at night. The twinkling stars were the only company she’d required. Night was a quiet time when the world slept, and she was left alone with her dreams and wishes. So alone, that at times, it nearly felt as if she lost herself to physically mingle with the celestial bodies.

But tonight…tonight she dreaded the rising of the moon and the unanswerable questions it would bring.

Guilt nagged at her. Every thought in her head urged her to withhold the truth from him. Since she would not remain with him for long, logic dictated that she protect herself with silence.

Sarah’s stomach clenched at the thought. Even though she would not be wed to him for ever, he’d been kind. And in one very long day he’d made her weak with desire using nothing more than a kiss. He’d teased her. Not in a cruel way, but in a manner that made her heart secretly laugh, even when she was scowling.

More than those things, he’d urged her to talk, and then he had listened. Even when the listening seemed to have horrified him, he had not stopped her.

Somehow, before it was too late, she had to convince her heart not to be foolish. These simple acts of kindness were nothing on which to build a life. These misplaced images of her and William together, running rampant through her mind, were nothing more than pity for the child she’d once been.

Sarah gasped at the sharp pain of regret for that child that laced through her. If she kept this up, she’d soon drown in self-pity. Before that happened, she needed a few minutes alone to compose herself. She jumped up from her seat on the log and headed toward the nearby stream.

From across the small clearing, William’s intent stare nearly singed her back, but he said nothing. Instead, the Earl called out, ‘Lady Sarah, do not wander off alone.’

Before she got too far away, William was at her side. He looked down at her, an unspoken question etched on his face. But he remained silent as he escorted her to a secluded spot in the woods. He let her slip off alone and stood guard until she rejoined him at the edge of the stream.

She immersed her hands in the frigid water, hoping the chill would ease the trembling a few moments alone had not. When that failed, she splashed the water on her face. If nothing else, maybe it would calm the worry heating her cheeks.

‘Sarah, come.’

She bit back a tart comment about following him like a loyal dog and fell silently in step behind him. When they returned to the camp, Hugh and Adrienna were curled together beneath a cover on the far side of the fire.

Suddenly terrified of what lay ahead, she stood rooted to the ground, watching William. He cleared sticks and stones from the earth, before unrolling covers for their makeshift bed.

He sat on the log to unlace, then remove his boots before he moved to the bed and stretched out on his side. He stared up at her and extended his arm, inviting her to willingly come to him, giving her the choice.

Sarah wanted to run away from William’s outstretched hand. She wanted to fall into his arms. She wanted to hide—not just from him, but also from herself and everything she’d become…and everything she’d never be.

In that one heartbeat of indecision, it all crashed in on her. She was a liar, a spy, the Queen’s whore…over and over every rumour that had ever been bandied about reverberated loud in her ears. Never would she be able to escape who, or what, she was.

Unshed tears blurred her vision. A cry lodged in her throat, nearly choking her as she turned away. William cursed softly. Before she could move, he sat up and took away her opportunity to choose by pulling her down next to him.

She rolled on to her side, facing away from him. With one arm wrapped firmly about her waist, he held her fast. ‘This day has been too long. I will bedevil you no further, Sarah. Go to sleep.’

Thankful that this would not be the night for more questions, she closed her eyes. But sleep would not come. It was held at bay by the solid length of his body behind hers, and by the strong beat of his heart against her back.

Every passing heartbeat fed her guilt. And each moment that he held her close, offering protection instead of ravishment, made her worry that she’d not be able to see this plan of Eleanor’s through to the end.

Dear Lord above, what would she do if that proved true? If she betrayed Queen Eleanor, she could likely lose her life. Yet, if she betrayed William, he would lose his. Unless she could somehow talk the Queen out of seeing him dead. Thus far, she’d never been able to change the Queen’s mind on anything, so Sarah held little hope for doing so in the future.

The pounding inside her head was nearly unbearable. And the tightness in her throat, from holding back tears, threatened to strangle her.

William loosened his hold from around her waist, reached up and brushed a thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realised had fallen. ‘Rest easy, Sarah, I am not going to hurt you.’

She sniffed, then said, ‘I know that.’ The second the words were out of her mouth she wanted to quickly push them back inside.

He raised up on his elbow and leaned over her. ‘Then what are you crying about?’

‘Crying? What are you talking about? I am not crying. What would I have to cry about? There’s no reason for me to cry. Everything is fine. Go to sleep.’ She spoke so fast that she knew he’d realise she was lying—a witless fool would know.

With his lips against her ear, he whispered, ‘Surely you know that blithering only exposes your lie.’

Since he hadn’t posed a direct question, she said nothing.

William feathered kisses on the sensitive flesh of her neck. His gentle touch sent her heart racing anew, and her mind spinning.

Before she had a chance to calm her flitting senses, he moved back to her ear. ‘I would have thought…that you…would be much better…at fabricating the truth.’

Between words, his lips against her neck, then her ear, chased thrills the length of her spine. Without thought, she answered, ‘So did I.’

At his chuckle, Sarah’s groan of dismay changed quickly to a gasp. The lout had done that on purpose. She pushed at his forearm, hoping he would release her from his embrace.

But instead of releasing her, he tugged her on to her back. ‘Ah, Sarah, how were you ever successful spying for the Queen?’

That was a question she’d like to know the answer to herself. The few men who managed to get her alone long enough to play these games of seduction had never made her mind go numb. Her heart hadn’t pounded like it did now.

In the dim light of the fire she could see only the outline of his form. Still propped up on his elbow, William leaned down towards her. ‘You are such a fraud.’

He brushed her hair from her face, before tracing a finger down the side of her cheek and then across her lips. His touch left a fiery trail on her skin.

William leaned closer and kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘I wonder how much truth there is to the rumours about you.’

Thankfully, he didn’t pursue the issue further, but when she went to move away from him, William draped a leg across hers, effectively preventing any escape. She tensed her muscles and held herself stiff as she waited for him to say, or do…something.

Finally, she reminded him, ‘You said you would not hurt me.’

‘Hurt you?’ He drew a fingertip along her lower lip, repeating the motion when she shivered. ‘Did that hurt?’

Sarah turned her head away. ‘Please, I just want to sleep.’

His sigh echoed into the clearing before he cupped her cheek and brought her back to face him. ‘One kiss, then you can sleep.’

She pursed her lips, then raised her head to quickly touch her mouth to his. ‘There, you’ve had your kiss.’

‘Oh, is that what that was?’ His question wisped across her lips.

‘Ye—’

He quickly covered her mouth with his, cutting off her reply. And for the first time since she had been a child, Sarah felt the icy touch of terror as it weighed heavy and cold within her chest.

Her pulse raced so fast it left her dizzy. This was dangerous. She had to stop him. Had to find some way to make him see reason.

William moved his lips more firmly against hers. Sarah lifted her arms to push him away, to break this maelstrom stealing over her, setting her afire.

But her arms refused to obey, and instead, she encircled him in an embrace, clinging to him for a steady purchase against the shifting ground.

William broke their kiss on a ragged groan and touched his forehead to hers. ‘That was a kiss.’ He rolled on to his back, gathering her against him. ‘Go to sleep.’

Sarah stared across his chest at the fire, wondering if her heart would ever slow down enough so she could sleep.

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