“Yes, I will marry you! And not at some indefinite time in the future. I want to marry you now.”
“It will have to be secret. If the king found out you had married a Mortimer, he would punish both you and your family.”
“I swear I will tell no one,” Brianna vowed.
“With the caveat of your parents, of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, we must have their permission, which might not be easy to get. The Earl and Countess of Warwick may consider it anathema for their daughter to wed a notorious Mortimer.”
She gazed up at him with a mischievous light in her eyes. “The Notorious Mortimers! If I wed you, will I too be notorious?”
“You are bloody incorrigible.”
“Yes, I know.” Brianna was inordinately pleased at the accusation. She unfastened his leather jack. “Make yourself comfortable.” She poured water into her washbowl from the jug and set it on the floor for Shadow. Then she began to undress.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to bed. It’s quite big enough for both of us.”
“Sweetheart, I can’t sleep with you under your father’s roof. He’d have my balls!”
“You may only have hours to live. When he discovers you, he may run you through to save my honor. Wouldn’t you like to spend your last hours making love to me?”
Wolf pulled her down into his lap. “I will spend my last hours making love to you—but that won’t be for another fifty years.”
“It’s almost morning.” She threaded her fingers into his long, black hair. “You rode through the night to come to me. How did you know where to find me?”
“When I visited Warwick I stole one of the scented candles from your bedchamber. Earlier tonight, in my room at Saint Albans Abbey, I lit the candle. Because you made it, your essence was on the candle and it illuminated your whereabouts for me.”
“Did you know that the abbey was built with stone from the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Verulam?” she asked innocently.
“I don’t need a history lesson from you, Brianna de Beauchamp.”
“You are right. A lesson in manners would benefit you far more.” She laughed up at him, thoroughly delighted that both of them remembered every word they had ever said to each other.
They stretched out on the bed together, his powerful arm anchoring her to his side. “Try to rest, sweetheart. We may have a taxing day ahead of us.”
She rubbed her cheek against his heart. “To a Mortimer, nothing is impossible!”
Their banter helped him to control his passionate desire for the exquisite female who lay in his arms. The only thing that kept his raging lust at bay was the heady thought that she had agreed to marry him and would be his for the rest of his life.
Just as dawn was lighting the sky, Shadow went to the door and growled. Wolf and Brianna, who were lying on her bed, sat up.
Warwick threw open the door, and Brutus and Shadow stood nose to nose, with raised hackles. “Good boy, Brutus.”
“Father! Wolf and Shadow arrived in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to disturb you,” Brianna explained quickly.
“Well, you do disturb me.” His face was grim. “I’m not as blind as you imagine.”
“I’m to blame for this, Lord Warwick.” Wolf stood and faced the earl. “I would like to speak with you and Lady Warwick in private, if I may.”
“Am I excluded?” Brianna demanded in a challenging voice.
“Yes, you are,” Wolf said firmly.
“I think that would be advisable,” Warwick declared. “We will see you in the library.” He pointedly held the door open waiting for Mortimer to vacate his daughter’s bedchamber.
Wolf signaled Shadow to stay, and then left quickly.
He found his way to Warwick’s library and saw that it lived up to its reputation. His wait for the earl and countess was rather lengthy and he passed the time by reading all the titles of the books. It was no wonder Brianna was intelligent if she’d read even half of them.
Finally, Guy and Jory entered the library.
“Good morning, Lady Warwick.” Mortimer bowed gallantly.
“Wolf, it’s lovely to see you again.”
Warwick cleared his throat, warning Jory not to be effusive.
Jory smiled at Wolf, blithely ignoring the warning. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”
Warwick took the seat of authority behind his massive desk.
Without hesitation Wolf Mortimer spoke up. “I am in love with your daughter, and have been for some time. Because she was betrothed to another, I could not declare myself.”
Jory gave Guy a look that said: I told you so!
“When my father was in the Tower and I was confined at Windsor, Brianna and I found a way to secretly communicate. Your daughter was instrumental in our escape and I learned that she returned my feelings. Because the Mortimers were reduced to landless paupers, I could not ask an earl’s daughter to become my wife, nor even ask her to put her life on hold and wait for me.”
“Since my daughter took such dangerous risks for you, I warrant she must return your feelings.” Warwick did not look amused.
“How exciting!” Jory declared.
“She is too much like you for her own good,” Warwick remarked.
“I shall take that as a compliment,” Jory said blithely, “since I know you wouldn’t change one thing about me.”
“Sir, you are aware that I have second sight. Though I do not know when, I am quite certain that Queen Isabelle and Roger Mortimer will land with an invasion force and, with little bloodshed, King Edward will be deposed in favor of his heir, Prince Edward.
“My father’s lands and castles will be restored to him and he will reward me for my service with Mortimer of Chirk’s estates. Since Brianna is no longer betrothed, and in light of my future prospects, I came to ask your daughter to marry me.”
“How romantic.” Jory was filled with joy for her daughter.
“How bloody audacious!” Warwick declared.
“Guilty as charged, sir. I am willing to wait until the Mortimers’ fortunes are restored. Brianna, however, is not willing to wait.”
“Oh, please tell me you are not willing to wait, Wolf. Tell me that you are just as impetuous as Brianna?” Jory begged.
“I will wait if you say I must, my lady, but I confess I won’t do it willing.”
“If you do marry, it must be kept secret, for her safety,” Warwick stated flatly.
Wolf did not let the triumph he felt show on his face. The Infamous Warwick was conceding. “I am a fugitive and we both realize her safety and yours would be in jeopardy if it was known that she was my wife.”
“Congratulations!” Jory looked radiant.
“Damn it, woman, I won’t give my consent until I have spoken with Brianna,” Warwick said emphatically.
Jory forwent rolling her eyes. “Of course not, my lord.” She smiled at Wolf. “You may escort me to breakfast.”
Guy de Beauchamp bade Brutus to stay, and opened Brianna’s door. Shadow lay down, put her nose on her paws, and flattened her ears, sensing the dominance of the alpha male.
“Do you love Wolf Mortimer?”
“Yes, Father, with all my heart.”
“Agreeing to marry him has nothing to do with Lincoln Robert marrying Blanche FitzAlan, has it?”
Brianna smiled tenderly. “Lincoln and I were childhood friends. Once Wolf and I became close, I realized that what I felt for Lincoln was affection, not love.”
“I warrant it would be better if you waited for the Mortimers’ fortunes to be restored.”
“Better perhaps, but not best, Father. You had to wait five long years for your heart’s desire. I don’t want to wait. The Mortimers’ fortunes may never be restored, and I don’t even care if they ever are.”
Guy realized Wolf had not told Brianna about his vision. This convinced him that his daughter truly did love Mortimer with all her heart. “Who am I to stand in
the way of your happiness?” He held out his arms and Brianna moved into them.
A lump came into her throat. “I love you so much, Father.”
Guy and Brianna joined Jory and Wolf for breakfast. Their demeanor told the pair who had been awaiting them that all was well. “Father will swear the priest to secrecy and we can be married today.”
“Since dusk falls early, I’ll ask him to arrange a candlelight ceremony,” Guy declared.
Jory turned to Wolf with a radiant smile. “I warrant you had no notion the Infamous Warwick was a romantic at heart.”
“How else could he have won the heart of a lady like you?” Wolf asked the beauteous countess.
“Ah, such flattery tells me you have the gallant charm of your father,” Jory teased. “Beware, Brianna, beneath the velvet glove is a fist of steel.”
“Then he has much in common with my own father, yet I have no fear.” Brianna winked at her mother. “You were the one who taught me there isn’t a man breathing who cannot be manipulated.”
Guy looked at Wolf. “It’s a bloody conspiracy!”
“Waiting for dusk will make the day seem endless. Why don’t you go for a romantic sleigh ride? The snow may not last.”
Wrapped in her sable cloak with a fur lap rug tucked about her, Brianna snuggled close to Wolf as he drove the magnificent pair of matched grays that pulled the sleigh. The air was as crisp as fine wine, and the silver bells on the animals’ harness jangled in a merry rhythm that matched their galloping hooves.
Shadow loped ahead of them, occasionally flushing a covey of grouse, or coursing after a hare that got away. Clearly the wolf was enjoying the wild dash through the snow today, far more than the hunt.
“I’m so deliriously happy, I want to shout it to the world.” Brianna cupped her hands about her mouth. “I have a secret!” she cried at the top of her lungs.
Wolf grinned down at her, took his hands from the reins, cupped his mouth, and shouted, “I’m in love!”
An owl on a birch branch asked, “Whoo? Whoo?”
Wolf shouted, “Brianna de Beauchamp, that’s who!”
Brianna lowered her voice and spoke more intimately. “You are a reckless driver, who enjoys taking risks.”
He picked up the reins. “You too obviously enjoy taking dangerous risks, or you wouldn’t be marrying me, sweetheart.”
“I taught Isabelle to take risks, but I never dreamed she would take your father for her lover.”
“He seduced her with his notorious Mortimer charm and she threw all caution to the wind.”
“Isabelle’s risk was far, far greater than mine. She is the Queen of England and her lover can never marry her. They are both committing adultery, yet if God is just, He will forgive her sin.”
“True, but I’m not certain He will forgive Roger Mortimer.”
She gazed up at him. “Why?”
“Father chose Isabelle, not only because she was a beauteous queen, but because she was the perfect instrument of Mortimer’s revenge upon Edward Plantagenet. The day my father surrendered to the king, and Edward put him in chains, Mortimer put a curse on him and vowed he would bring him low.”
“But your father hasn’t yet invaded and taken his revenge.”
Wolf shook his head. “Roger Mortimer took his revenge the night he cuckolded King Edward.”
Brianna remembered words Wolf had once said to her: I could seduce you into doing anything I wished, but I promise I will never lure you to it, no matter how much you tempt me. My integrity wouldn’t allow it.
She smiled up into his dark eyes. “I love you, Wolf Mortimer.”
He dragged the horses to a halt and pulled her into his arms. “You had better, my beauty.” His insistent fingers found their way beneath the fur rug and inside her sable cloak.
She could feel the warmth of his possessive hands through the material of her gown as he caressed her back, and when she lifted her mouth for his demanding kisses she knew that this was her man and there was nowhere in the entire world she would rather be on this exciting winter day than on a sleigh ride at Flamstead, enfolded in her lover’s arms.
The horses stamped their feet and blew clouds of vapor into the cold air. With his fingertips, Wolf brushed the snowflakes from Brianna’s eyelashes. He slapped the reins and the horses surged into a gallop. “I’m burning—I forgot it was cold. If I let myself get any hotter, I shall make love to you in the sleigh.”
“That would be heavenly.” She slid her hand along his thigh.
“I’m trying to control myself until we are married. Behave yourself, English.”
She squeezed his thigh muscle. “Fiery Welsh dragon!”
When they returned to the castle, Jory told Wolf that she would order a bath be prepared for him. “Come, Brianna, we must choose something lovely for you to wear at your wedding. The chapel will be cold and we shall both have to wear our fur cloaks, but underneath we must look spectacular.”
Wolf said with regret, “I have only leathers to wear.”
“Take a look in Rickard’s wardrobe. I’m sure you’ll find something. Go up those stairs and turn left. Rickard’s chamber is at the very end. In fact that’s where you can bathe.”
A short time later, as Wolf was sponging himself in the wooden tub, the door swung open and Rickard de Beauchamp stepped inside. “You are actually going to wed Brianna?”
“I am. We will be brothers-in-law.” Wolf grinned.
“Brianna is my sister, but since I am wed to your father’s sister, I’ll still be your uncle,” Rickard taunted.
Wolf refused to be baited. “Uncle makes you sound old, but take your choice—you can be my uncle or my brother.”
“You shrewd sod—you know I’d rather we were brothers.” He reached into his doublet and pulled out letters. “I had no idea you were here. I was on my way to Saint Albans to look for you. I have a letter from your father.” Rickard set down two envelopes and handed Wolf a towel. “The other is for Brianna from Isabelle.”
“It’s fortuitous you arrived—you can be my witness. The queen’s letter may distract her. I won’t give it to her until after we are wed.”
“My sister is a female who likes to make her own decisions.”
“I am well aware of it, Rickard.” Wolf opened the wardrobe. “Truthfully, I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He pulled out a dark green velvet doublet with a golden dragon embroidered on one sleeve. “May I borrow this? It’s Mortimer colors.”
“Be my guest. I’ll wear the wine velvet.”
Wolf grinned. “I leave you little choice, since everything else is leathers.”
“Resplendent garments are rather useless on a horse-breeding estate. Did you know Flamstead would be Brianna’s one day?”
“Why do you suppose I asked her to marry me?” Wolf jested.
“That’s a bloody lie. I know how much pride you have.”
It was evident that everyone gathered before the altar in the small, chilly chapel was inordinately proud, as Brianna and Wolf exchanged their wedding vows.
“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
“I do.” The Earl of Warwick proudly placed his daughter’s right hand in Wolf Mortimer’s and stepped back.
“I, Roger, take thee Brianna to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Brianna had forgotten that Wolf’s real first name was Roger, and she smiled her secret smile. “I, Brianna, take thee Roger to my wedded husband.” She continued, proudly repeating the solemn words Wolf had vowed.
He gazed down at his bride with loving eyes, and slipped the plain gold ring that Jory had provided onto her finger. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” With all my FUTURE worldly goods.
The priest put his hand on top
of the couple’s clasped right hands. “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. I pronounce that Roger and Brianna be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The newlyweds placed their signatures in the chapel’s register, and then Rickard and Brianna’s nurse, Mary, signed as witnesses.
Warwick was the first to hug his daughter, and Brianna noticed that his cheeks were damp. “I love you,” she whispered.
Jory gave her new son-in-law a motherly embrace, and Wolf wished his own mother were this warm and loving.
Guy and Rickard thumped the groom on the back with hearty blows that would have felled a man with a less powerful build.
When the wedding party entered the castle from the cold night air, the tempting tang of roasted game and meat, layered with the delicious aroma of baked bread, cakes, and tarts, was a mouthwatering assault on the senses.
When Wolf removed his black wool cloak, and Brianna saw the golden dragon on his doublet, she was thrilled.
He helped her from her sable cape and gazed transfixed at the exquisite picture she made. Wolf realized just how lucky he was. Brianna is a magnificent marriage prize.
She had chosen a pale green silk gown, because it was a Mortimer color and because her red-gold curls were a vivid contrast. She also wore her birthday chain about her waist, with the large cabochon emerald suggestively decorating her mons.
The hall was filled with the people who lived and worked at Flamstead. Not by word or even look did they let on that they knew this was a wedding celebration. Since they were well aware that the marriage must be kept secret, they conducted themselves with a veneer of normalcy, albeit underneath was a barely suppressed frivolity.
As the food and drink were consumed, the atmosphere became progressively more festive and noisy. Toasts were drunk silently without the usual testimonials. There was no dancing with the beauteous bride, but there was no lack of merry songs sung, both suggestive and otherwise. Finally, Wolf got to his feet and raised his goblet to everyone present. “I thank you with all my heart for making me feel at home.”