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“Not prepared to receive me? You can not have forgotten that we share this chamber.”
“I have not forgotten. You may come back after my maid has prepared your bed.”
Simon scowled, then shook his head. “Nay, ’twill not serve. This is my chamber and you are my wife. It is not improper for me to be alone with you.” He stepped before her, perusing her slowly. “To do anything I wish with you.”
She sucked in a deep breath, as a rush of something dark and unknown raced through her. Desperately she fought for control at her reaction to him.
“I would not say that you may do as you wish with me, my lord. Wed though we may be, it is not a real marriage.”
“Do I detect a note of disappointment, Isabelle?”
Praise for Catherine Archer’s previous works
Summer’s Bride
“A delightful read!”
—Romance Reviews Today
Winter’s Bride
“…a pleasurable medieval romance with conventional characters and a tried-and-true plot.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
Fire Song
“This finely crafted medieval romance…(is) a tale to savor.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
Lord Sin
“…deftly done and sure to please.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
#591 MY LADY’S TRUST
Julia Justiss
#592 CALL OF THE WHITE WOLF
Carol Finch
#594 GOLD RUSH BRIDE
Debra Lee Brown
Dragon’s Dower
Catherine Archer
MILLS & BOON
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Available from Harlequin Historicals and
CATHERINE ARCHER
Rose Among Thorns #136
**Velvet Bond #282
**Velvet Touch #322
Lady Thorn #353
Lord Sin #379
Fire Song #426
*Winter’s Bride #477
*The Bride of Spring #514
*Summer’s Bride #544
*Autumn’s Bride #582
†Dragon’s Dower #593
To my sisters-in-law, Edie, Iris, Lillian and Bev, for their continued interest and support of my writing for all these years. Thank you.
Contents
Prologue
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
Prologue
England, 1188
The three boys sat facing one another. The flames of the fire they had lit at the center of their circle burned no hotter than the anger in their eyes.
Simon, who was the oldest by three months, took up his knife and held it over the flames. “I, Simon Warleigh, swear my allegiance and friendship to you, my brothers in arms, for the rest of my life.”
He drew the blade across his palm, barely flinching as it left a long shallow cut that began to bleed immediately. He passed the blade to Jarrod on his right.
The dark boy took the blade, held it over the flames and said, “I, Jarrod Maxwell, swear my allegiance and friendship to you, my brothers in arms, for the rest of my life.” He made no sign as the knife slit his flesh, passing it to his right.
Christian was the youngest by nearly a year. His brown hair was glossy with golden streaks in the fire-light. He took the blade. He looked to his companions, then held the knife over the flames as they had done. His voice was as firm with conviction as theirs had been. “I, Christian Greatham, swear my allegiance and friendship to you, my brothers in arms, for the rest of my life.”
He flicked his tongue out to wet his lower lip, then dragged the knife over his palm with a frown of concentration. He looked up at the other two.
All three stood in unison and they held their dripping palms out over the flames.
Simon spoke with a maturity far beyond his thirteen years. “Brothers we are, bound by the blood we shed and by our love for each other and the man who brought us together. May we never forget The Dragon and the wrong done him.”
“The Dragon,” intoned the other two boys.
Jarrod reached out to clasp Christian’s wrist. Christian did the same to Simon, who closed his own palm around Jarrod’s wrist.
Simon called out to the star-studded sky overhead. “Does it take our whole lives, my lord, we will see the man who wronged you punished.” The pain and sadness in his voice was echoed in the others’ faces.
They stood like that, bound by their love for one another and for the man who had acted as foster father, mentor and teacher to the three of them. The man whom they had been forced to testify against.
Jarrod spoke in a harsh voice. “We should have lied.”
Christian shook his head, his blue eyes dark with misery. “He would not have had us do such a thing, even to save him.”
Simon nodded. “Aye.”
Their foster father had had no idea what would come when he’d told them to tell the truth. Yet Simon knew that none of them would ever rid themselves of the guilt of having given testimony that would incriminate him.
Though Simon had loved his own father deeply neither he nor anyone else who had ever known Wallace Kelsey, known by friends and foe alike as The Dragon, could deny the impact of his character and genuine care for all who came into contact with him. That was, no one but The Dragon’s own brother, Gerard Kelsey.
It was he who, due to his treachery, now bore the title of Earl of Kelsey. It was he who sat in the place of honor in the great hall at Dragonwick.
At that moment Jarrod spoke up, “I have something that I wish to give each of you before we leave here.” He went to his horse and took a velvet bag from his belongings.
He came back to the fire and removed three objects, holding them out to the light. Simon saw that they were brooches, each containing a circle and within the circle was a magnificent dragon, its wings unfurled.
Jarrod held one out to Simon, then to Christian. “These will keep us from forgetting each other or him.”
Simon’s voice was as husky as his friend’s as he pinned the brooch to his cape. “I will never forget.”
“Nor I,” said Christian as he pinned his own into place.
Swallowing hard, Jarrod did the same. Then, with no further words between them, the three mounted and headed back to the keep, which after the events of the previous day no longer felt like home. It was the day when their innocence had died, the day The Dragon’s brother had attacked the keep and killed him.
Chapter One
England, 1201
“There is one way, my lord, for you to keep your head.” King John’s keenly assessing gaze held him.
Simon Warleigh, Lord of Avington stiffened where he stood before the king. King John leaned forward, his elbows on the table before him, as Simon spoke with a tone of calm that surprised him no less than it did the king. “And that would be?”
John Lackland was so called because his father Henry had made no great provision for him as he had his brothers. He had ruled with an iron hand since inheriting from his brother, Richard Lionheart, after his death in 1199. The king smiled thinly, reaching down to run a slender hand over the head of the sleek-coated hound that sat beside his heavily carved chair. “Take Kelsey’s daughter to wife.”
Simon sucked in a breath of shock. He was aware of the quick glances of the two guards who stood back from the king’s chair, though neither man made any other outward sign that they were taking note of the proceedings. The guards were the small stone chamber’s only other occupants, but their presence was hardly necessary. Even if Simon was foolish enough to try to escape this private audience he could never hope to make it through the castle without being apprehended.
But that was not the greatest of his problems at the moment. “Why would I take my accuser’s daughter to my very bosom?” As soon as he said the words Simon realized he must go carefully. Though he was not guilty of plotting against the king John clearly believed that he was. The king’s harsh dealings with his nobles had certainly caused much unrest and gave him good reason to suspect insurrection amongst his subjects. Were Simon not so occupied with his own conflict with Kelsey, he might indeed have fallen in with those who had asked him to join their efforts to rein in this king. But he had little time to afford such activities.
The king shrugged, his shoulders narrow despite the heavy red velvet tunic he wore. “Because as I have just informed you, it is the only way to keep that head of yours attached to the shoulders the women at court seem to make so much of.”
Simon ignored the jibe. He had no care for the foolish tongues of women who had nothing of import to occupy them.
Simon had Avington to see to first and foremost. He had come back from the Holy Land to learn of the inheritance that had fallen to him with both a sense of responsibility and a deep sorrow. He would never have expected the death of both his father, who he learned had been dead these many months, and his elder brother only weeks prior to his return to England. Yet he’d had no time to grieve their loss, for he had immediately become embroiled in this conflict with the Earl of Kelsey. It galled him so to call the usurper by that name, the title that had graced his former foster father.
It was near beyond comprehension that the king would now make Kelsey Simon’s father-by-marriage. He shook his dark head, trying to fathom some way out of this untenable situation. Never for a moment had he, Jarrod or Christian foreseen such a complication to their budding plans to bring Kelsey to ruin. He spoke almost absently. “It makes no sense. Why would you ask this of me? What possible gain could there be from it?”
King John watched him for a moment, stroking his long narrow cheek. “In spite of your long absence from England you can not be ignorant of your father’s, and after him your brother’s, influence with the other nobles. Do I execute you I risk their enmity. Do I marry you to a man as loyal to me as Kelsey, the very man who alerted me to your perfidy, I prevent you from continuing to plot against me. And mark me well, Kelsey will prevent that.”
Simon spoke carefully, knowing that this man had the power to take Avington from him if he chose to do so. “Perhaps Kelsey will not have me for his daughter.” Kelsey knew very well that it had been himself Simon was referring to as the target in the intercepted letter that had been used as evidence against him.
“He will do as I say, even to the point of taking you into his home. His loyalty to me is unquestioned.”
“You mean for me to abide at Dragonwick?”
“You could not believe I would allow you to go home to Avington where you would be able to make whatever mischief you might conceive of. You will abide at Dragonwick and Kelsey will serve as guarantor of your conduct until such time as I am assured of your loyalty.”
“By controlling my every movement.” Simon could not quite keep the bitterness from his voice, for it was even worse than he could have imagined.
The king regarded him coldly. “Aye.”
Resentment rolled through him at the very thought of being in the bastard’s control. “And if I refuse?”
John smiled again. “In spite of any ire that might be garnered amongst the nobles by your death I would see it done in order to assure that you cause me no difficulty.”
Simon took a deep breath, knowing he had to try this one last time to convince the king of the truth. “I repeat, Sire, that I have done naught against you.”
The king raised dark brows and looked down at the letter before him. The letter that outlined much of Simon’s wish to destroy Kelsey, without actually naming the man. The letter had been on its way to Christian at Bransbury when it had been intercepted by Kelsey’s man, who had the messenger killed. Although he regretted the death of that good man, Simon knew that it had likely been the one thing to save Christian and Jarrod. If Kelsey had had an opportunity to question the messenger, he might very well have divulged his destination.
Simon said, “I have told you, Your Majesty, that letter has been taken out of turn. The man I spoke of was not you, but Kelsey himself.”
The king shook his head. “And as I have told you, my lord Warleigh, there would be no reason for Kelsey to lie to me in this. He says that he does know for a fact that it is me you plot against and not him because you approached him in that vein. Indeed, why would he lie if he knew that it was he who was the target of your machinations? Surely a loyal man such as he would simply seek my protection.”
Simon knew why. Kelsey had thought that by making it appear that Simon was plotting against the crown he would rid himself of an enemy with little effort on his part. Yet Simon knew it was pointless to reiterate this fact. John, knowing that many of the nobles were discontented with him, was ready to believe the worst.
The king seemed angered anew! “Well, Warleigh, what say you? Take Kelsey’s daughter, or…?” He arched dark brows high.
Simon reached up and ran a hand over the dragon brooch that held his heavy woolen cloak over his shoulder. He spoke deliberately. “I must think on this.”
John nodded sharply. “You have until morning.” The king’s gaze raked him. “Kelsey’s daughter has been summoned. ’Tis her or the axe.”
Simon raised his own dark brows, outraged at what was revealed by the king’s words. It was clear that Kelsey had agreed before Simon was even informed. “I begin to see that this marriage is a bid by Kelsey to gain my lands….”
John stopped him with a raised hand. “Your accusation is ridiculous, for my lord Kelsey was not eager for this union. Yet he—” the king’s scathing gaze raked Simon “—is loyal to me and will do as his sovereign desires. Even had I been inclined to heed your accusations against the earl, this new charge against him would convince me of your lack of honesty. You will say no more against him.”
Simon felt a stab of self-directed anger at his rashness in speaking without thinking. Of course Kelsey had not engineered the marriage. As Simon’s nearest neighbor and favorite of the king he would have some hope of gaining the lands without such a drastic step, or at least holding them if the king wanted them for himself.
Simon could see no choice but to agree to this marriage. He took a deep calming breath. “I understand.”
The two guards started toward him. He stopped them with a raised hand, his dark eyes proud as he looked to the king. “Their escort will not be necessary. I can find my own way back to the village.”
John eyed him, then shrugged when Simon’s gaze did not waver. “Very well. See that you do not leave the town and be warned, if you do, I have the power to take Avington. You would also forfeit your life, for my patience would be at an end and my offer of leniency revoked.”
Again Simon bowed, making no reply, though he would not have called what had been offered to him here leniency. Not marriage to Kelsey’s daughter.
The king then gestured toward the door. “Leave me.”
Simon swung around and strode from the chamber. He must indeed think on this matter, though what could come of thinking he did not know.
He went directly to the stables, heedless of the chill autumn breeze that cut through his light cloak. His very life was at stake here—and more importantly, Avington. With his father and brother dead he finally had an inkling of why his father had always put Avington first, even before his own well-being. ’Twas a great responsibility to care for not only the heritage of his family, but the lives of so many who depended upon him as their lord.
He now realized how mad he had been to embark upon this feud with Kelsey. Yet upon returning from the Holy Land, all his old outrage against the earl had been awakened when he learned that upon his brother’s death the earl had sought to gain control of Avington. The longtime steward had told Simon enough of the earl’s machinations to make his blood boil, including the fact that Kelsey had tried to gain access to the keep with his men a week before Simon returned home. The steward had only been able to put him off by declaring that he had no right to grant anyone permission to enter with his lord dead and the new lord not yet returned. That he would be happy to do so if the earl was to come with edict from the king.
Simon’s arrival at Avington had clearly only just prevented the earl’s obtaining that edict.
Newly come from the Holy Land with him, both Jarrod and Christian had been eager in their insistence on joining his quest to see Kelsey pay for his wrong-doings. When Simon had stated that this was his fight and that he would not have them risk their own skins, they had reminded him quite forcefully that Kelsey had wronged them as well. They had been mere boys when he murdered The Dragon and took his lands. Now they were men, hardened by hardship and battle. They would not have Simon cheat them of this chance to strike back at one who had done such wrong.
These thoughts reminded him that the only two men he fully trusted on earth awaited word of what had occurred in the king’s chambers. They appeared within hours of each other at the inn where he had been allowed to stay when he arrived at court two days before. Neither had admitted how they knew what was going on, but Simon suspected that it had been the steward who had sent them news of his summons to court. That good man had cautioned against retribution toward Kelsey, who he knew was an intimate of the king.
Simon had failed to heed that advice.
To his detriment. For he had not foreseen how devious Kelsey would prove.
Kelsey had already been at court with his stolen letter when Simon arrived. Nothing Simon had said in his own defense had been heeded and he would not have been allowed any other witnesses even if he had been inclined to let his friends stand for him.
Kelsey could not know their identities or they would have been accused, as well. Simon would keep it that way.
He pressed his horse to a faster speed.
So preoccupied was he that Simon was nearly upon the wagon blocking the center of the road before it gained his attention. Casting a puzzled gaze over the wagon he immediately realized that one of the rear wheels was lying beside it in the road. Several men, most of them garbed in mail and obviously soldiers, were working to raise it in order to get the wheel back on. Horses of decent breed, as well as a glossy black mare of exceptional quality, were tied to a tree just off to the right.
Two women, one in a long hooded cape of good wool and another in a hooded cape of heavy burgundy velvet stood looking on. A noblewoman and her entourage, he assessed quickly. Most likely they were on their way to court.
In spite of all that was going wrong in his own life, Simon found himself stopping. He greeted the two women. “Is there aught I might do to help you?”
The taller of the two, the one in the velvet cape raised her head….
Dear heaven, he thought as his eyes met hers, which were almond shaped and the most unusual color he had ever seen, for they were the exact shade of newly budded lilacs. Her alabaster skin molded features of perfect and pleasing symmetry like those he had seen on statues while travelling through Italy, the nose straight, the cheekbones high. Her lips were such a luscious wild berry hue that he wondered if she had been biting them. The dark ebony hair that rimmed the inside of her hood seemed to come afire with subtle streaks of deep red in the morning light.
She was beautiful, undeniably, incredibly, mesmerizingly beautiful.
It took Simon a moment to realize that those perfect lips were moving, answering the question he had forgotten he’d asked. Her voice, having a slight huskiness for a woman, was soft and evenly modulated, and it stirred his senses as greatly as her beauty. “I do not know what it might be, sir.” She did not fully meet his gaze for more than a brief moment as she gestured to the men who had not ceased in their efforts to raise the wagon. “There are hands enough to see it done.”
A firm rejection of his offer, but perhaps just what a gently bred young woman should tell a strange man.
Still he lingered, finding himself asking inanely, “Do you go on to court?”
She kept her gaze cast down and he noted the way her lashes lay very thick and dark over her ivory cheeks. “My lord, I do appreciate your concern but we really require no aid. And my father would not have me converse with a man unknown to me, lest there be some pressing need for it.”
Simon was not at all surprised. The man who counted himself this damsel’s father must certainly have a care with her.
Truth be told he was somewhat of a blackguard to linger about here staring like an untried lad. He might soon find himself wed, and though it was not of his choosing, his circumstances made his attentions to the young woman less than honorable.
Simon bowed, his tone softer than it might have been had he not felt somewhat doubtful of his own reasons for continuing to tarry. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to cause you such discomfort by gawking as so many others must.”
She looked up at him then, seeming to really see him for the first time, her uncertain gaze moving over his face. He smiled reassuringly, feeling a deep desire to put her at her ease.
Her lashes fluttered down, then up as she cast him a shy look. For a moment her gaze seemed almost wishful.
One of the men spoke up. “Is there a difficulty, my lady?”
Immediately that expression of cool dismissal fell into place. “Nay, Sir Brian. This man was only asking if he might be of help. I have told him he may go on his way.”
Simon looked to the man, who met his gaze with disapproval. He had no right to the resentment he felt. The fellow was only doing his duty.
Yet Simon could not resist one more look at those haunting eyes, which now seemed to hold no expression at all. He felt unexplainably disappointed.
He bowed again and prodded his horse onward. Christian and Jarrod awaited him.
Yet he found himself looking back to see that the young woman was watching him. Then his horse took him around a bend in the road and she was gone.
Feeling oddly bereft Simon gave himself a mental shake. He had no time to allow himself to entertain romantic notions toward a young woman with whom he had exchanged no more than a handful of words at the side of the road.
No matter that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Marriage to his enemy’s daughter would mean that he would no longer be a free man, in spite of the fact that the very notion was abhorrent to him.
Jarrod and Christian swung about as he approached them where they sat at a narrow wooden table in a window alcove within the dim interior of the inn. The low-beamed chamber’s other occupants paid more heed to their cups than to each other, which was one of the reasons for choosing this location. Both his friends’ expressions were grave.