Wolf Mortimer stared after the pair until they entered the castle. The impact of the beautiful female had been like a blow to his solar plexus. The moment she slapped him, a raging lust ignited and ran through his veins like wildfire. His nature was both impulsive and decisive, and he knew instantly that he wanted her. Not only was she exquisite to look at, but she was all fire and ice. She was a spirited female who would give as good as she got, rather than being meek and submissive, and the thought excited him. I recognize your towering pride, since I have the sinful trait myself, Brianna de Beauchamp. Your challenge is irresistible!
At the evening meal Brianna’s brother, Guy Thomas, almost two years younger than she, sat with Mortimer’s sons. Their talk was all about horses and hunting and weapons. Brianna had chosen to sit with her mother’s ladies, rather than up on the dais, and it gave her an unimpeded view of her parents and their guests.
Her mother, Jory de Beauchamp, was an exquisite beauty who easily held the attention of every male in the hall, including their guest of honor, Roger Mortimer.
Brianna gazed at the handsome Marcher lord with her heart in her eyes. Her glance was suddenly drawn against her will to Wolf Mortimer. The pet wolf is not the only reason for his name. He has the look of a dark, lean predator. I warrant he is both dominant and dangerous when the mood takes him. His pale gray eyes are startling in his swarthy face. When the bold devil looks at me his gaze is so penetrating, he seems to discern my thoughts. Brianna gave a delicate shudder of distaste and forced her eyes away from him.
Her mother’s ladies were speaking of how much they missed being at the Queen’s Court. Brianna missed Queen Isabelle and longed to see her again. She began to daydream about how lovely the gardens would be at Windsor Castle. Before the month of March was over, spring would arrive. The queen always had exciting masques portraying Queen Guinevere and King Arthur, and she and Isabelle had fun choosing the costumes and playacting in the roles. There was lively music and dancing and Brianna was at an age to attract a great deal of male attention and had never lacked for partners.
Brianna also missed the company of Prince Edward, whose household was at Windsor. She often rode out with him and shared in his hawking lessons and watched as he was taught swordsmanship and how to shoot with a longbow. She sighed and wished they could soon return to Windsor. She longed to see Queen Isabelle’s new baby. Joan had been born in the Tower of London and would soon be a year old.
Her thoughts were brought back to the present when she realized that the meal was over. Her mother rose from the head table to withdraw and leave the men to their wine and their plans. This was the signal for her ladies to retire and Brianna left also.
She went upstairs to her mother’s chamber, eager to get answers to some of the things she’d heard today that puzzled her. She watched as her mother removed her emeralds and locked them safely in her jewel casket.
“I always assumed I was born in this castle, as was Guy Thomas. Why was I born at Windrush?”
Jory, caught off guard by her daughter’s question, gave her a half-truth. “Your father and I had a quarrel.” Her green eyes sparkled with amusement. “I withdrew to my own castle of Windrush to bring him to heel.”
Brianna laughed merrily at the absurd suggestion that her father could ever be brought to heel, but she knew her mother was an enchantress, and wanted to be exactly like her.
Jory picked up her brush. “Any more questions?”
“Yes.” Brianna’s admiring glance lingered on her mother’s beautiful silver-gilt hair. “What is a pederast?”
Jory’s eyes widened. “Come and sit down and I’ll brush your hair. You were listening today when your father and I were talking to Roger.”
Brianna sat down at the dressing table before the mirror. “Of course I was listening.”
“It refers to a man who loves males rather than females.”
“King Edward loves males? What about Queen Isabelle?”
Jory sighed. “It’s a long story, infinitely sad and disturbing, but I suppose you are old enough to hear it.”
Brianna watched in the mirror as her mother applied long soothing brushstrokes to her red-gold hair.
“When Edward married Isabelle and brought her from France, she was only thirteen years old. They had separate households at Windsor until she was old enough for the marriage to be consummated, and I was chosen as one of her ladies. Young Isabelle was madly in love with Edward and thought him a golden god. He hardly noticed her. He had eyes for only his favorite, Piers Gaveston, who had been placed in the prince’s household when he was a boy. When King Edward learned of the immoral relationship between his son and Gaveston he banished him. But the moment the old king died, Edward brought Gaveston back to court.”
“When I was a little girl, I remember that Edward and Gaveston were always together. No wonder Queen Isabelle detested him.”
“We all hated Gaveston. He manipulated Edward like a puppet on a string. He was greedy and grasping and had a sycophantic entourage of Gascon relatives and friends who bled the king dry. He paraded about in the Crown Jewels, and Edward even gave him the jewels that Isabelle received as wedding presents.”
“Edward actually fell in love with Gaveston?” Brianna asked.
“For Edward it was more than love at first sight, it was complete surrender. He showered him with gifts and lands and titles, and Gaveston turned the king against the barons.”
“When did Isabelle learn that Edward loved Gaveston?”
“When she walked in on them and found them in bed together. Her naive innocence was stripped away in an instant. She was devastated and wrote to her father. The King of France contacted Thomas, Earl of Lancaster. Since Thomas was England’s high steward and the second greatest power in the land, King Philip charged him to become the queen’s champion and rid Edward of his lover.”
“What happened?” Brianna hung on to every word.
“Parliament banished Gaveston, more than once, but each time Edward brought him back again. The last straw for me came after my dearest friend, Princess Joanna, died. The king immediately married his sister’s daughter, young Margaret, to his lover so that he would get all the lands and castles that her father, Gilbert de Clare, had left her.”
“I can remember how upset you were. I thought it was because Joanna had died, but now I see that it was more.”
“Margaret was like my own daughter. Edward married her to a monster and there was nothing I could do about it. The king ruled by divine right, but in truth it was Gaveston who ruled!”
Brianna, who had heard disturbing gossip about Gaveston’s death over the years, whispered, “Did Father murder him?”
Mother’s and daughter’s eyes met in the mirror. “Good God, no! Rumors have laid so many deaths at your father’s feet and none of them are true. Parliament tried Gaveston and found him guilty on forty different charges such as counseling the king to do evil, stealing the Great Seal of England and using it for his own purposes, and urging the king to civil war. Gaveston fled to his castle of Scarborough, which the king had given him. He finally surrendered to Pembroke, on condition that his life be spared. Pembroke and his soldiers brought the prisoner to Warwick. I remember that night so well. Thomas of Lancaster arrived and demanded custody of Gaveston. I knew how much Lancaster hated him and knew what he would do. I used all my feminine wiles on your father to keep him at Warwick that night.”
“Were your suspicions correct?” Brianna whispered.
Her mother nodded. “As soon as they were on Lancaster land, Gaveston was executed and Thomas took full responsibility.” She put down the brush and sat on the bed. “I was vastly relieved that young Margaret was widowed from Gaveston. The following year she married Hugh Audley, the young Marcher baron who was worthy of inheriting the earldom of Gloucester through his wife.”
Brianna stretched out beside her. “Tell me the rest.”
“In his grief over the loss of Gaveston, Edward reached out to his wife becau
se he had no one else to turn to. Isabelle knew he had always been a weakling, but she felt compassion for his anguish and she comforted him. In her innocence she thought that at long last, Edward had begun to love her. They became man and wife in more than name and she had Prince Edward, followed by her other children. Though they were not in love, their relationship was at least amicable and polite and lasted almost ten years. All seemed well and fine until the greedy, grasping Despencers made their move. The elder Despencer, who was on the King’s Council, appointed his son Hugh to the post of Chamberlain of the King’s Household. Hugh Despencer soon slipped into Edward’s bed and the trouble started all over again.”
“They are sodomites,” Brianna said in a shocked voice.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Wherever do you learn these words? Your father would run mad if he heard you.”
“That word is in the Bible,” Brianna said innocently. “I sensed there was something peculiar about Hugh Despencer.” A lump came into her throat. “Poor Queen Isabelle must feel so alone. She must miss us as much as we miss her.”
“It is infinitely sad. She has never known a man’s love. In the early years of her marriage she worshipped Edward with her whole heart. I cannot count the number of times I held a sobbing Isabelle in my arms to try to comfort and soothe her. She was sick with jealousy that the handsome young king gave all his love and attention to Gaveston and could spare none for her. After his favorite was permanently removed, Edward turned to Isabelle as if he were seeing her for the first time. She was generous enough to forgive him, naively believing he was cured of his aberration. She did her duty by the king and gave him children, and the outside world began to believe that their king and queen had a normal marriage. But now that he has shamed and humiliated her once more with Hugh Despencer, her marriage is finished.”
“I would never allow myself to fall in love with a man unless he had proven that he loved me,” Brianna declared fervently.
Jory smiled at her daughter’s innocence. “You cannot control love, darling. It controls you. The heart wants what it wants.”
As Brianna made her way from the Master Tower, she was deep in thought. The things she had learned tonight answered so many of the questions that had puzzled her about the royal couple. Their relationship was cool, polite, and distant; nothing like the passionate affair between her father and mother.
She went down the hallway that led to the Lady Tower and her own room. When she got to the junction leading to the east wing that housed the guest chambers, she came face-to-face with Wolf Mortimer. She stiffened as she saw his companion.
“I forbade you to bring your wolf into the castle!”
He looked at her with tolerant amusement. “I usually ignore orders from females.”
Brianna gasped. “How dare you refuse to obey me?”
He tried valiantly not to laugh at her. “I was brought up with a gaggle of spirited sisters who continually tried to rule the roost. I’ve been handling women and their whims since I was five. I’m not about to start obeying female orders at my age.”
“I am not one of your sisters.”
“No, you are far more vain and spoiled.”
The bold devil looks as if he enjoys goading me. “Your manners are atrocious, Mortimer!”
“While you have the manners of a fine lady, Brianna de Beauchamp. Go back to the nursery where you belong.”
“Nursery!” Brianna cried in outrage.
“Only a baby would be afraid of Shadow.”
“Afraid? I’m not afraid of your wretched wolf.”
“Prove it,” he challenged.
Her towering pride outweighed her fear. After a slight hesitation she held out her hand. The silver she-wolf sniffed it cautiously while its golden eyes assessed her.
“Your scent doesn’t alarm her,” he declared.
“Hers doesn’t alarm me. The stink of her master, however, offends me to high heaven.” She thrust up her chin and swept off. The sound of his mocking laughter followed her down the hallway.
Chapter 2
Just as dawn was breaking, Brianna entered the stables and saddled Venus. She was an avid horsewoman, much to her father’s delight, and he had promised to endow her with his castle of Flamstead in Hertfordshire where he crossbred his distinctive and much-sought-after Warwick horses, renowned for their speed and strength.
She saw the outline of a tall male as he entered the stables. The light was dim and she suspected it was Wolf Mortimer. The sharp retort died on her lips as he drew close and she saw that it was her cousin, Lincoln Robert de Warenne.
Her frown turned into a smile of surprise and delight. “I had no idea you were here!” She welcomed his warm kiss of greeting and the ardent look of admiration he bestowed upon her.
“It was near midnight when we rode in. The River Nene was swollen with the thaw and the bridge was out.”
“I warrant Uncle Lynx was cursing a blue streak.”
“Actually, he showed a deal of patience. Said he’d encountered worse in Scotland and it gave him a chance to teach his sons how to deal with adversity.”
“So Jamie is here too?”
He nodded. “The young devil’s still snoring under the covers.”
“Would you like to ride out with me?”
“You know that’s why I came to the stables at this ungodly hour.” He made no secret of the fact that he was highly attracted to her. “My horse cut his leg last night. I was hoping you’d take a look at it—no one knows how to treat their ailments better than you, Brianna.”
“You flatter me beyond reason. All my herbal cures I learned from your mother. My concoctions do well enough, but Aunt Jane has a mystic ability to commune with animals that I haven’t perfected yet.”
Brianna inspected his horse’s leg. “The cut looks clean.”
“I washed it the minute we arrived,” he assured her.
“An ointment made from briony will do the trick. I keep a large pot of it here in the stables.” She retrieved the ointment from the shelf and applied it to the cut while Lincoln Robert held the animal’s leg still. “It will stop the wound from fretting. Choose one of the Warwick horses. Your mount should heal in a couple of days.”
The pair rode side by side, falling into an easy lope so they could talk. Lincoln Robert spoke of accompanying his mother to Scotland so she could visit her family. “Plans aren’t firm yet, but I was born there, so I’m a native Scot.”
Brianna glanced sideways at his mane of tawny hair and green eyes. “You look more like a lynx to me,” she teased.
He laughed. “The de Warenne curse!”
“I too would love to visit Scotland. My mother spent almost as many years there as your father. It would be a great adventure.”
“It’s only talk at the moment, but if she does decide to go, I’ll suggest you come with us—Mother would love to have you.”
“Thank you, Lincoln. I adore Aunt Jane. She’s so sweet, gentle, and even-tempered, compared to my mother and me.”
“I admire a fiery temperament.”
Brianna laughed ruefully. “I have inherited my mother’s temperament, but not her lovely silver-gilt hair, alas.”
“Your hair is beautiful. The morning sun burnishes it to molten red gold.”
“No more—you will turn my head. Only yesterday I was accused of being vain and spoiled. I’ll race you back!”
The pair galloped neck and neck. Because of Brianna’s lighter weight and expert skill she arrived in the castle courtyard just ahead of Lincoln. It was filled with men readying their horses, and when she saw that Wolf Mortimer was there, she deliberately lifted her face toward Lincoln Robert and gave him a radiant smile. “You are so gallant. You let me win!”
He dismounted in a flash and came to her side. He held up his arms and she came down into them, managing to display her petticoats and her long, black riding boots.
Warwick arrived, accompanied by his brother-in-law, de Warenne. Lynx reached out his large hand an
d ruffled Brianna’s hair. “How’s my imp of Satan?” he teased.
“This week I am contemplating the convent.”
“Don’t be a nun, Brianna,” he said with a straight face. “You’d have to cover your glorious tresses.” He spoke to his son. “We are on our way to Kenilworth, then Pontefract. Go and tell your brother to hasten or we’ll leave without him.”
Brianna intended to go with Lincoln Robert, but just then Roger Mortimer emerged from the stables mounted on his black stallion. He cut such a handsome, gallant figure that the sight of him rooted her feet to the ground and she gazed at him with undisguised admiration. His teeth flashed white in his dark face as his two sons, Edmund and Wolf, fell in beside him. She sighed and unconsciously ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She caught herself and blushed. Suddenly, she felt someone’s eyes on her and glanced up to find that they belonged to Wolf Mortimer. His penetrating stare read her thoughts. She was mortified to see him grin knowingly.
Brianna went up to her chamber to change from her riding dress and found the tiring woman who had once been her nurse, making her bed. “I’ll do that, Mary. Sit down, there’s something I want to ask you.”
“And what would that be, Mistress Inquisitive?”
“I only just learned that I was born at Windrush. Why did you never tell me?”
“I don’t remember, lovey,” she said evasively.
“Mary, that is a deliberate lie. I know that Father and Mother had a quarrel and she went running off to her own castle. I want to know what their quarrel was about.”
“It was all a silly misunderstanding,” Mary said lightly.
“A misunderstanding about what?” Brianna persisted.
Mary sighed and gave in. “A wicked Welsh serving woman, who had come to Warwick with your father’s first wife, gave your mother ale that had been dosed with pennyroyal. Luckily, your mother didn’t drink it, or you wouldn’t be here, lovey.”