“I think that Lincoln Robert will be far happier with Blanche than with me. She is younger than I and, I wager, a good deal more amenable than I would ever be. At the same time, she fulfills Lincoln’s first priority for a wife—she is the daughter of a noble Earl of the Realm.”
“That’s rather cynical, darling.”
“Yes, I am sometimes cynical…shocking in a female who is about to celebrate her eighteenth birthday.” Brianna’s mouth curved slightly. “I recall once telling someone about my betrothal to Lincoln Robert and they said, Poor lad. You will ride roughshod over him. An astute observation, don’t you think?”
“And who was this someone?”
Brianna smiled her secret smile. “I forget.”
“You certainly have a convenient memory,” her mother teased. Then she surprised a haunting, wistful look on her daughter’s face that told her Brianna had memories and hidden depths that were fathomless.
“You know me well because we are so alike.”
“Well, we may not be having a wedding, but we shall certainly celebrate your birthday, and then we’ll stay and celebrate Christmas at Flamstead. We shall be festive and rejoice and carry on inordinately. What do you think?”
“I think it’s time you stopped worrying about me.”
“What are we giving Brianna for her birthday?”
Guy de Beauchamp knew immediately what would please his daughter most. “A new palfrey. There is a sleek black yearling, part Arabian, that runs like the wind. It would suit her to perfection.”
“An excellent choice. And I think I’ll give her one of my emeralds, since she gave back her betrothal ring.”
“That’s both generous and selfless, Jory, but then you need no jewels to enhance your beauty.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, you infamous devil.”
“On the contrary, it always gets me exactly what I want.” His possessive hand unerringly found her bottom.
“I believe it might snow soon. Why don’t you use up some of that sexual energy and refurbish the sleigh that we keep in the stables? Nothing is more romantic than a ride in the snow.”
Wolf Mortimer arose at dawn and packed his saddlebags. The air was no longer mild and had a decidedly sharp nip to it today. He needed an early start for his journey to the Welsh Borders, where winter arrived early. He fed his horse, and suddenly felt remorseful. The qualities he prided himself on, courage and loyalty, would be compromised if he deserted the Mortimer cause. He thought of the sacrifices his father had made, and the even greater sacrifice of Mortimer of Chirk. Before he had finished saddling Drago, Wolf knew he would ride to Hedingham and try to recruit the de Warennes.
Wolf was in no hurry as he rode the twenty-odd miles from Cambridge. He had little desire to see the bride. By the time he rode into Hedingham Castle’s courtyard, his fists were unclenched, his face was impassive, and he was focused on his mission.
At the stables Lynx de Warenne greeted him warmly, and he turned Drago and Shadow over to Taffy, Lynx’s squire, for safekeeping.
“Congratulations on negotiating a truce with Scotland, Lord Surrey.”
“Thank you, Mortimer. News travels swiftly. I salute your father for escaping the Tower. He is the first man in history to accomplish the feat.”
“My father is a resolute man when he puts his mind to it. On that head I’d like to speak with you in private, my lord.”
“You don’t mind if I include my son, Lincoln Robert? He is newly wed and will soon command a de Warenne force of his own.”
Wolf felt his back stiffen and forced himself to relax.
“Here comes the groom now,” Lynx declared.
“Congratulations,” Wolf said woodenly.
Lincoln grinned. “My head is still splitting from the celebration.”
“Let’s go into the castle, the wind is bitter today.”
Bitter was exactly the way he felt today, Wolf realized.
In the hall Lynx stopped long enough to serve his guest mulled ale, and then the three men went into the small library.
With an iron will that forbade his mind to wander, Wolf told the de Warennes how many earls and barons had secretly pledged to support an invading army led by Roger Mortimer to remove Edward and Despencer. “Warwick is an ally. His son will lead his men.”
“Guy Thomas is little more than a boy,” Lincoln Robert protested.
Wolf did not say he had meant Warwick’s heir, Rickard de Beauchamp. “Guy Thomas acquitted himself well when we took back the Despencer holdings in Wales.” He felt smug satisfaction when the bridegroom flushed.
Lynx de Warenne said matter-of-factly, “We will stand with you when the time comes. Keep in mind, however, that an invasion could render the truce with Scotland null and void.”
Wolf saw immediately that he was right. The most expedient strategy to invade a country was when another enemy was invading it. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”
“Let me extend Hedingham’s hospitality. We’ve just celebrated a wedding, so we are still feasting.”
“That is most generous, but I must decline,” Wolf said firmly.
As they left the library and headed back to the Great Hall, a fair-haired young lady appeared.
“Permit me to introduce my bride,” Lincoln said proudly. “Blanche FitzAlan is the Earl of Arundel’s daughter.”
Wolf stared hard at the female, hoping his eyes were not deceiving him. She stepped timidly behind her new husband, as if she needed protection from the dark, fierce Welshman.
Wolf did not kiss her hand, fearing she would faint if he actually touched her, but his gallantry came to the fore. He bowed gravely. “I wish you every happiness, my lady.”
Inside, Wolf did not feel grave, he felt elated. Brianna broke off the betrothal!
In the stables, he thanked Taffy for taking care of his horse and his wolf. He rode off in silence, keeping his jubilation inside until he was off de Warenne property; then he let out a whoop of joy. “Shadow, she didn’t marry him!”
Shadow looked up and grinned.
Wolf no longer noticed the bitter wind. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he rode rather aimlessly, with no destination in mind. When he stopped for food at Great Dunmow, he realized he was heading west and if he kept going he would reach Saint Albans before nightfall.
He arrived at the Benedictine monastery at twilight. He stabled his horse and asked if either Adam Orleton or Rickard de Beauchamp were now at the abbey and learned they were not. The abbot assigned him a spartan room with a small window and whitewashed walls. He put his saddlebags on the bed and poured water for Shadow.
Though Wolf Mortimer was not a particularly religious man, he was deeply spiritual and he suddenly had the urge to give thanks for his good fortune. He bade Shadow stay and made his way to the abbey. He walked down the long nave, slid into a pew, went down on his knees, and bowed his head.
Prayers, he had been taught, were supposed to be sober and said with reverence. Wolf, however, found it impossible to be somber or even staid. Truth be told, he felt exultant. Hallelujah!
“She is absolutely beautiful! You couldn’t have chosen a better birthday gift.” Brianna realized it was her father’s idea, and the sleek, black palfrey was his choice. She has the same bloodline as Wolf’s horse. Drago would make a perfect mate for her. A lump came into her throat and she dutifully pushed away wistful thoughts that would make her melancholy. Her loving parents did not deserve to see their daughter moping about in a pensive mood on her birthday. “I shall give her the name of a goddess, as I did with Venus. What do you think of Athena?”
“The Greek goddess of wisdom—I like it,” Warwick declared.
“Ah,” Jory teased, “and here’s me thinking Venus was named for a heavenly body.”
“All goddesses have heavenly bodies,” Warwick jested.
“I think I’ll take her for a gallop. Will you join me?”
“Yes, but since it snowed this morning, I’d prefer a slei
gh ride. Guy, have the horses harnessed and we’ll follow Brianna’s lead,” Jory suggested.
“Will you trust me to drive?” Guy asked his wife.
“I have more good sense than to trust you in any way, but risk adds to the enjoyment.”
“Actually, the brightness of the snow aids my vision, but I’ll do something risqué to give you enjoyment,” he promised with a wink.
“Men!” Jory rolled her eyes. “They always have their minds on one thing.”
“I’ll saddle Athena.” They are still in love after all these years. Mother fell in love with Guy when she was my age, but had to wait five years before they could be married. Brianna sighed. Dear God, I don’t want to wait that long.
Brianna enjoyed her gallop on Athena, but observing her parents’ intimacy on the sleigh ride emphasized her longing for Wolf. Seeing her mother cuddle up close to the man she loved made Brianna crave the warmth of Wolf’s powerful arms. The laughter they shared ignited a fiery hunger in her belly.
That night, after the evening meal, Jory presented her daughter with one of her coveted heavy gold chains from which hung a huge cabochon emerald. It could be worn around the neck or the waist. The dangling jewel was designed to be provocative, either lying in the cleft between the breasts, or worn lower to decorate the mons.
“Mother, I never expected anything like this. I know how precious your emeralds are to you.” Since she wore the wolf touchstone about her neck, she fastened the chain about her waist.
“Unexpected gifts bring the most pleasure.”
Warwick stood, lifted his goblet, and addressed all the people of Flamstead. “Join me in a toast to my beautiful daughter who turned eighteen today. Someday she will be the chatelaine of this castle. Brianna has brought me joy every day of my life.”
“Hear! Hear!” The shouts went up around the hall and Brianna blushed prettily at the near adulation in their voices.
She got to her feet and replied to the toast. “Thank you. Flamstead and all its people hold a special place in my heart. You surround me with love. There is nowhere I would rather be on my birthday than here with you.”
The horsemen banged their knife handles on the trestle tables to show their approval.
It was late when the de Beauchamps retired. Brianna kissed her parents good night and when she closed her bedchamber door, the solitary atmosphere was in high contrast to the one that had pervaded in the Great Hall tonight.
Perhaps because it was her birthday, perhaps because her wedding had been canceled, perhaps because her parents had such a loving relationship, tonight her heart ached unbearably for Wolf.
She lit the candles, lifted off her touchstone, and gazed at it with a tremulous longing. “Come to me, Wolf. Please come to me.”
Wolf Mortimer sat on the narrow bed in the cell-like room at Saint Albans Abbey, staring at the blank, whitewashed wall. He was happy tonight and felt receptive to what the future held.
Gradually, a vision formed before him like a play unfolding upon a stage: He saw a huge fleet of ships make anchor on the Suffolk coast. Queen Isabelle and Roger Mortimer were met and made welcome by the king’s half brother, Thomas, Earl of Norfolk. Wolf recognized a score of earls and barons who had pledged their support, and relief swept over him that they had kept their word.
The scene changed to the City of Cambridge, where Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, acted as spokesman for all the other bishops who had gathered to assure Queen Isabelle and Mortimer of the rightness of their cause. Wolf saw that his father commanded a force of only seven hundred and was amazed at his courage, invading England with so few men. Mortimer’s instinct had been correct. The people flocked to support their queen, Isabelle the Fair, whom they had always loved, and Mortimer’s army now swelled to two thousand.
Again the vision changed. Wolf watched a horrific scene where Hugh Despencer was castrated, his heart cut out and thrown into a fire. Then his body was hacked to pieces by a vengeful crowd.
As if by magic the scene changed once again. Henry Plantagenet, Earl of Leicester, knighted young Prince Edward, and then the prince was crowned King of England and the Great Seal delivered into his hands. At the coronation, Roger Mortimer’s vast landholdings and castles were returned to him, and he was made the Justiciar of Wales for life.
Mortimer rewarded his son Wolf by giving him all of Mortimer of Chirk’s estates and possessions.
Wolf surged to his feet, astonished at his good fortune. His vision faded and disappeared, and once again he found himself staring at the blank whitewashed wall of his cell-like room.
He was absolutely convinced that he had seen the future. He had been given no indication when these events would come about, nor any hint of the time between when the ships anchored and when he would be endowed with his uncle of Chirk’s landholdings. He was certain, however, that these things would come to pass.
Wolf was immensely proud that his father was the catalyst that would bring about these beneficial changes for England and her nobles. Roger Mortimer is fulfilling his destiny.
His heart swelled with joy that he now had the chance to fulfill his own destiny. He closed his eyes and a picture of Brianna came to him full-blown. “Brianna Mortimer!”
Wolf opened his eyes and realized that he was faced with a dilemma. He spoke to Shadow. “Where is she? She certainly isn’t at Hedingham. Her mother told me she had gone to Scotland. Did she remain in Scotland or did she ever go there?”
Shadow didn’t seem to know the answer.
“Brianna would not remain at Windsor after the queen left. Did she decide to join Isabelle in France? Perhaps she went home to Warwick. That seems a logical choice.”
Shadow cocked her head to one side as if to say, “You’re the one with the second sight.”
“You’re right.” Wolf opened his saddlebags and began to search. At the bottom, he found what he was looking for. He lifted out the candle he had taken from Brianna’s bedchamber when he had visited Warwick Castle.
He replaced the tallow candle, in the pewter candlestick that was on the bedside table, with the perfumed one that belonged to his beloved. When he lit it, the lemon scent of verbena spiraled into the air about him, evoking haunting memories.
Wolf sat down on the bed and stared into the flame. Almost at once he saw her. She too was sitting on a bed, gazing at something she held in her hands. He realized it was her mystic touchstone painted with the image of a wolf that looked identical to Shadow. He breathed deeply and his senses became drenched with her. He realized that it was her birthday and heard the sound of her voice faintly as if from a long distance. “Come to me, Wolf.”
He still had no idea where Brianna was. He knew his spirit could walk two paths—one in the physical world and one in the supernatural. He could transcend beyond what was perceptible to the five senses and, with his sixth sense, could conjure real imagery. His inner eye drew back from Brianna’s chamber to give him an overview of her surroundings. He saw pastures and an abundance of horses. “She’s at Flamstead!” he cried.
Shadow grinned happily. We’re going on a night ride!
Chapter 27
“Come to me, Wolf. Please come to me.” Brianna whispered the words. Her longing for him came from her soul.
There was an ancient custom that said you could make a wish on your birthday, and if you didn’t reveal the wish to anyone, it would be granted. Brianna closed her eyes. I wish for Wolf!
She reclined against her pillows and fell into a daydream about the dark, fierce Welsh Borderer. He was riding Drago, and Shadow loped ahead of him through the night. Brianna schooled herself to patience, imagining that he was coming to her with all speed.
Something roused her from her reverie and she sat up and listened intently. She heard the noise again. It sounded like a faint scratching on the castle door, but of course she realized that Flamstead’s stout oak portal was too far from her chamber for her to hear any sound from such a distance.
The insistent scratching
came again and Brianna took up her candle, silently descended the steps that led down to the Great Hall, then made her way to the castle’s main entrance. She listened intently and heard a faint whimper. In her mind she could actually see Shadow standing on the other side. She threw back the bolts on the heavy oak door and opened it. “You came!” Brianna stood mesmerized. “Wishes really can come true.”
Wolf’s arms enfolded her and held her tightly against his heart. “My own love, I came because you summoned me.”
“How did you get past the guards?”
“Silly question.” He hugged her closer. “It’s what I do. Shadow taught me how.”
Brianna’s heart was racing wildly. She put her finger to her lips, took his hand, and led Wolf and wolf upstairs to her chamber.
“Let me have a good look at you.” He held her at arm’s length. “You called off the betrothal after all,” he said, bemused. “I confess that I lost all hope—I visited Warwick and your mother told me you had gone to Scotland with the de Warennes.”
“Everyone just assumed I would go. When I told Lincoln I couldn’t marry him, he begged me to wait until they returned from Scotland. I agreed because I didn’t want to ruin Jane’s visit.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “That was kind.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m kind more often than cruel. I worried about breaking Lincoln’s heart, and the callous swine married Blanche FitzAlan the moment they returned from Scotland.”
“I met the bride. To me they seemed a perfect match. She was terrified of me.”
“Mmm, so am I.” Brianna lifted her arms about his neck.
Wolf kissed her deeply and continued his kisses until they lost count. When they sank down on the bed, Wolf bethought himself. “Brianna, I have neither stick nor stone. All I have is a towering audacity, and a deep and abiding love for you. Will you marry me?” Wolf knew he should have told her that someday he would be both rich and powerful, but something perverse inside him wanted to know if she loved him enough to marry him when he had nothing and was still a fugitive.