After years of raids by the Welsh along the borders separating England and Wales, William had appointed some of his noble vassals to guard the marches, or borderlands, giving his marcher lords free rein to subdue the savages in any way they saw fit. Some of these lords had pushed their armies farther into Wales, occupying much of the east and some of the south, and causing the people to revolt. Among Wales’ warriors many rebels arose, but one in particular, calledWyfyrn, had caused considerable distress to the marcher lords over the years.Wyfyrnhad slaughtered four of the Norman overlords and their entire garrisons.
Tanon shivered at the thought of such bloodthirsty barbarians and thanked the saints that her king had kept peace in England. Dear William, he’d even made amends with Hereward the Wake. The king needed another friend at his side. He spent much of his time in Normandy without her father, who often was away on the king’s business or managing his own lands.
Tanon found her betrothed laughing with Lady Eleanor Fitzdrummond, a beauty whose mammoth sized breasts matched her enormous air of self-importance. Tanon didn’t like her, and she didn’t care for any man who did.
“A friend of yours?” A voice spoke behind her.
Tanon sighed without turning. “My betrothed.”
“Fool.”
Tanon finally turned to him, the insult lifting her brow. Saints, it was the man who’d nearly caused her to break her neck on the stairs. Unfortunately, his effect on her hadn’t changed. Her breath halted as she stared up into his captivating eyes. His smirk deepened into a smile so warm and familiar, it tempted her to smile back. “Pardon?”
A beguiling smirk quirked one corner of his mouth. “Him. Not you.”
“Oh.” Her thoughts scattered, taking Roger with them.
The stranger’s face was bare save for a slight tuft of deep gold just beneath a full, sulky lower lip. A darker shadow along his jaw implied a hint of arrogance. His loose, long hair fell like liquid over his shoulders and reflected the flickering light of the hearth fire. He exuded confidence and virility in waves. Tanon felt as if she were looking at a different species. This one was mesmerizing and wild like a magnificent, untamable horse. Scottish, she guessed, fighting back the heat threatening to color her cheeks. He’d probably arrived with one of the many clans to compete in the tourney. He hadn’t said enough for her to place his lyrical accent, but she didn’t need to hear it to know that he was foreign.
“Are you here to compete?” She knew she should excuse herself and hurry toward her father, but the spark of intelligence in his eyes piqued her curiosity.
“Aye.” He glanced at her betrothed and then slid his gaze back to her. “I imagine I am. I was unaware of your betrothal, Lady Risande.”
“No one is aware of it,” Tanon told him, glancing toward Roger again. “My marriage was arranged to Lord deCourtenay just a few months ago. It’s to be announced this night.”
“Lord deCourtenay?” The stranger asked. He cut his gaze to William and dipped his brow.
“Is something the matter?” Tanon asked.
“Nay.” He tilted his head back to her. “You care for him, then?”
Tanon would have laughed if there was an ounce of happiness in her. She shook her head.“Non,”she answered honestly.
The stranger seemed to find some relief in that. His gaze on her softened.
Tanon angled her head at him. She felt as if she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t place him. “You have the advantage, my lord.” She offered him a candid look. “You know who I am.”
“Aye.” The way his eyes searched her felt familiar, but when he lifted his finger to the crease in her cheek, she drew back from his touch, her heart pounding madly.Non, it couldn’t be him. She felt a pang of disappointment. Gareth was dead.
“You were described to me in great detail by a mutual acquaintance a number of years ago. He said your eyes rival the verdant moors ofCymru.” While the stranger spoke, he took Tanon’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. “And that your nose crinkles when you laugh.” He turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. His gaze brushed her face from beneath thick, dark lashes.
“Allow me to escort you to your father.” His fingers caressed hers as he fit her hand into the crook of his arm.
Unable to breathe, Tanon took a moment to blink and slow her thudding heart. She had mastered keeping her emotions in check, especially here in the king’s court. But her skin felt flush, her mouth dry.
Her betrothed was sitting a few feet away. It would be unseemly for another man to escort her on his arm to her father. She began to move her hand away from him.
“Thank you for your kind offer, my lord. But—”
“Come,” he offered quietly, stilling her with his probing gaze and warm fingers atop hers. “Your father’s table is but a few feet away. Grant me a moment to speak with you.”
Although he looked feral, Tanon couldn’t deny his courtly manners. She nodded, giving in with the first genuine smile she had offered anyone since arriving at Winchester. Another curl came loose from the maze of pins poking her head and fell over her brow. She blew it away. “Are you going to tell me your name?” she asked, oblivious to the amusement that made his eyes grow warm, while she frowned at the springy coil that defiantly found its way back over her eye. “Or shall I call you ‘stranger’ for the rest of the evening?”
“If you promise to spend the rest of the evening with me, then aye, I shall tell you my name.”
She liked his boldness and the self-assurance that slowed his steps to a leisurely pace. He was in no rush to end their encounter, and despite her better judgment, neither was she. “I’m afraid I’m not permitted to bargain, my lord.”
“Pity, then.” He suddenly frowned, looking even more striking than before. “I shall have to concede.” He turned to look behind him and nodded to one of the men who had entered the castle with his small entourage. The burly-looking brute slammed the end of a pole into the rushes and yanked on a small strip of leather. A banner unfurled, revealing the ruby image of a four-legged dragon.