Heartless Warrior

Heartless Warrior

Donna McAteer

HEARTLESS WARRIOR By

Donna McAteer

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Heartless Warrior

Donna McAteer

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© copyright by Donna McAteer, July 2007 Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, © copyright July 2007 ISBN 978-1-60394-056-6 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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Chapter One

Aberconwy’s Colwyn, North Wales 1299 He hung chained, dangling from the restraints that reached high above his head to connect him to the ceiling. Barely conscious from the severe lashing he had endured, only a single, almost imperceptible bob of his head indicated that he struggled to remain alive. Then his head rested, chin to chest, his thick black hair hanging in wet strands, sweat pouring profusely from his entire body. His bare feet lay partially tucked beneath him, his arm muscles taut and bulging from their effort to suspend his considerable weight. Not one sound had he uttered, not one scream had issued forth from his sealed lips. Bridgett silently crept down the dank, musty stone steps leading to the dungeon. She could not fathom the pain he must have endured. Huge welts formed under the bloody, open wounds-gaping slash marks made by the whip’s angry bite. Beyond the obvious desecration to his broad back, Bridgett marveled at the demigod before her. Heavily muscled, he possessed massive arms, broad shoulders, rippling stomach muscles, and huge thighs. His body more resembled a full suit of armor than one constructed of mere muscle and bone. He wore only the loincloth given to him after his personal items were stripped from his person. Openly staring at him, Bridgett could well believe his reputation for being fearless, powerful, and invincible. However, at this particular moment, she wondered if he would survive the night without her help. Thankfully, she could see the rise and fall of his powerful chest, signaling the fact that he still breathed. It was his legendary greatness, as well as her tremendous respect for his misplaced bravery, that inspired Bridgett to attempt this extremely dangerous rescue. She abhorred her brother, Lothar, for the deceit he displayed in dealing with Lord Wraith. He had come in good faith, led to believe that an agreement was reached to end the decades-old dispute between them. It was a known fact that her brother hungered for everything Wraith owned or had conquered. Wraith’s fighting skills were legendary, his strength unmatched, and his reputation spotless. She had watched him come through the main portcullis of Castle Conwy only four days earlier. Mounted on his fearsome, black destrier, he entered alone as though he was impervious to any danger. His head unhelmed and held high, his gaze straight-ahead. He seated his horse with the power and pride of a seasoned warrior. He entered without his fabled sword, as a gesture of peace and a signal to Lothar that he came unarmed. She was unable to see his features from her vantage point high in the West Tower. His face heavily shadowed, she could see only his windswept hair moving about his broad shoulders and the outline of his physique as it peeked out from under his chain mail and hauberk. Awe soon turned to despair as she witnessed her brother’s men wrestle him to the ground and subdue him. She had hoped that, for the first time in his life, Lothar could be trusted to deal with Lord Wraith in an honorable manner. Apparently, that was not to be, she realized, as she watched in horror the capture and bondage of the celebrated knight who had mistakenly trusted her corrupt sibling. She made a vow at that precise moment to help him escape.

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Careful to watch her footing as she continued down the moist steps, her eyes remained riveted to the motionless man who appeared to be unconscious as he bled from his considerable wounds. She brought with her a small clay pot filled with a mixture of yarrow and comfrey, to aid in both his pain and blood loss. She had learned the craft of utilizing herbs from her mother and perfected her own potions for use on her brother’s men. Living in a castle full of armed soldiers presented plenty of opportunities to test new concoctions and perfect old ones. She carried with her now one of her newest creations, an improved mix she hoped to apply to Lord Wraith’s injuries. She simply could not allow her brother to kill the renowned hero. Night now approached and two torches illuminated the consistently gloomy dungeon, creating great shadows upon the lord’s body. She had carefully laced a large wineskin with enough sleeping potion to render the two hefty guards unconscious for the remainder of the night. “Ivor, Morvran, what say you pause from your betting game long enough to imbibe in some spirits sent by Lord Lothar.” Bridgett remained upbeat, not wishing to alert the two to the scheme she planned to hatch. The two gargoyles whirled around as they heard the unusual strains of a sweet female voice. “What brings you to the bowels of hell, Lady Bridgett,” grunted one of the grotesquely ugly men. “’Tis no place for a lady, this dungeon,” the other hideous creature chimed-in as he revealed a smile of missing and rotten teeth. Even as he protested her presence, he grabbed for the wine vestibule with both filthy hands. Guzzling happily, the ruby-red liquid dribbled down his neck and shirt, yet he seemed not the least bit concerned that the lady of the castle had personally delivered the refreshment to the unlikely duo. Bridgett watched in disgust, as she stoically remained composed throughout the ordeal. The unsuspecting pair gratefully downed the drugged wine as they passed the skin back and forth, never questioning the unexpected treat as they slurped, sloshed, and belched openly. Her eyes remained glued to them, moving slowly from one to the other as she watched for any telltale sign that their suspicions grew over the forbidden luxury. “’Tis a fine day,” she said, intending to deluge them with female chatter as a matter of diversion. “Mayhap you two should think about straying into the sunlight occasionally. I hear ‘tis to be a drama performed in the marketplace this very afternoon. Do either of you play an instrument?” She kept up the useless babble, even though neither disgusting beast paid her any mind. Casually, she let her gaze slip down to the battered form of his lordship. Since the guardsmen’s area sat one level higher than the prisoner’s, the sentries gained an authoritative vantage point from which to view their captive’s suffering. “I’m sure you both need something to wile away the time while you guard prisoners. What better thing to take up your time than practicing an instrument? Mayhap the recorder, lute, harp, viol, organette, or dulcimer.” She continued to chatter gibberish while the sight and sounds of the two slobbering and drooling idiots turned her stomach. “And with the muscles you two possess, ‘tis a sure thing for you to enter the joust at Forest Gate tomorrow eve.” This was definitely stretching things a bit, but it kept their minds occupied and she cared not. Suddenly, one of the behemoths stopped and pinned her with an intense gaze. “Why would his lordship not send one of his henchmen to deliver the wine instead of you, Lady

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Bridgett?” Fine time for him to start thinking, thought Bridgett. Her heart began to leap as her mouth fell open in surprise at the sudden revelation. “Make sno sense tha he would send you, milady,” slurred the other goliath as he stood abruptly to loom over her, knocking over the chair. Her eyes widened as her head fell back, their gazes meeting. His body smelled, his breath stunk, and he was beyond filthy. Scraggly hair hung in oily strands about his face and his clothes appeared soiled beyond repair. She feared something bad would transpire if they suddenly acted on their suspicions. Bridgett’s fingers trembled as she twisted the rough fabric of her skirt, her anxiety steadily growing. She was on the verge of jumping up and running when the standing half-wit suddenly toppled over with a crash to the floor. “What tha?” Even as the second giant started to rise from his chair, the spiked brew took effect, causing him to fall heavily to the floor with a loud thud. Bridgett could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Mercifully, a crucial portion of her plan had worked. Jumping out of the chair, she swung into action. After nudging the two with her foot, Bridgett bent to retrieve the keys necessary to release Lord Wraith from his manacles. Watching her footing on the slick steps, she descended further into the depths of the horrific chamber. Upon reaching the bottom step, her hand flew to her mouth as she gagged at the sight displayed on his tortured back. Blood oozed from gaping slashes revealing raw, open flesh where the whip had torn into his skin. Quietly she sidled around to stand directly in front of his bent head. “Milord,” she whispered, her lips only inches from his soaking wet hair. No movement issued forth, and she wondered if the tortured warrior had indeed perished from his wounds. She continued calling to him, this time increasing her whisper slightly. “Milord…I have come to rescue you, but ‘twill be necessary for you to support your own weight, if ‘tis at all possible.” With painfully slow movement, he raised his head until his face was level with hers. Eye contact was questionable because of the heavy shadows cast from the minimal light. Relief swept through Bridgett that he still lived. “Do you hear me, milord? I have the keys for your release, but first you must make an effort to support your weight. Mayhap you can stand until I release you?” She continued her urgent, whispered plea, as he slowly nodded in an affirmative gesture. Sliding his tucked feet from under his body, he slowly raised his gigantic frame onto unsteady legs. Bridgett’s head tilted farther back as she followed the slow progression of his upward mobility, until he stood at his full height before her. Her head did not even reach his shoulder level. The dark recesses of his heavily shadowed face again shielded his visage. Realizing she could not reach his restrained wrist, she hurried back up the steps to the guard’s level where she had sat upon a small stool. Bringing the stool down, she stepped and reached towards one arm. Going up on tiptoe, she turned the key and released the shackle. Raw skin beneath the iron manacle proved he had tried in vain to escape his torture. When she freed the second arm, she hopped off the stool, quickly ducking under his pit. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she began to assist him to the wall. His skin was smooth and tight, like velvet over stone. Sinewy muscles at his waist confirmed not one bit of fat covered the nobleman. She had touched many a man’s bare skin whilst tending to wounded soldiers, yet never had she noticed any sensations before.

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Shuffling, she struggled to keep him upright. Finally, she leaned him against the wall for support. With one shoulder propped against the masonry, he slumped. Again, Bridgett came around to face him and whispered. “I have in my possession a potion that will lessen your pain and stop the bleeding, milord. If you will allow me to apply it to your wounds and wrap them, we will then be able to make our escape anon.” An interminable amount of time seemed to pass, as he presumably stared at her. Finally, he nodded. She slipped around to his back and proceeded to unfasten the small clay pot that hung suspended from a sash secured at her waist. She dipped her fingers into the soothing substance and carefully touched the first of his wounds. He flinched violently as her fingers made contact and instinctively began to pull away from her touch. “I know ‘tis painful, milord, but it will begin to subside if you allow me to continue.” Bridgett could not imagine how he suffered in silence with such obvious damage to his body, and she painstakingly continued her feather light caress until he permitted her contact. Eventually he began to relax under her tender ministrations and a deep moan rumbled throughout his chest. A small smile curved the corners of her lips at the realization that she comforted the man who had obviously been through agony at the hands of her diabolical sibling. When she had slathered a generous amount to all the gaping lacerations, she covered his torso with fresh, clean linen strips she had brought with her. She quickly unrolled a bundle of stolen clothing, in order to clothe the near- naked man. She hoped the clothing would cover his considerable frame, her brother not possessing the bulk of Lord Wraith. With much tenderness, she dressed him in a loose-fitting tunic, a pair of chausses, and soft leather boots. Again, she looked up into his indiscernible features. “You must steady yourself a few moments more, ’tis necessary while I secure our escape route, milord.” Trembling, she began to run her hands over the face of the protruding stones. She could feel and hear her heart hammering in her chest as she worked with speed to make good their escape. She fully anticipated an untimely appearance by her brother’s men-at-arms. She shuddered to think what would happen if that were to occur. She knew there existed an escape tunnel, for she had discovered it as a child while playing in the dungeon. Feeling the delight of knowing something that her brother did not, she never divulged the tunnel’s presence to Lothar. Never would she have dreamed that her childhood adventure would result in the saving of a man’s life, and probably her own as well. She realized, however, that they must hastily make their retreat, for to be discovered aiding a prisoner in escape would undoubtedly result in a most agonizing death for them both. Hope surged as she loosened a rock and pulled it from the face of the wall. With shaking hands, she repeated the process with utmost precision and speed. Her labored breathing resounded in the chamber as she worked exhaustingly to complete the task quickly. Sweat dribbled down her temples and she offhandedly swiped it away with the back of her hand. Eventually an opening existed that would sufficiently allow both she and the overly large man to slip through. Grabbing one of the torches from its holder, she planted her shoulder beneath his arm and assisted him through the narrow aperture. The interior was damp, chilly, and musty. The sound of dripping water echoed from somewhere farther within the tunnel. Bridgett gently braced him against the wet wall while she quickly secured the structure to its former state. She knew that she must line the stones in a certain pattern in order for the passage to remain hidden from the inside of the dungeon. She

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needed to give them enough time to exit the tunnel and make their escape. Periodically, she would halt to listen intently for any sounds of approaching danger, only the thumping of her own heart greeted her. When she finished lining the stones, she grabbed the torch and again assisted the silent man through the tunnel. “I know of an escape through this tunnel, milord. ‘Tis only a matter of remembering the route, for I am sure I will once I see it.” She did not dare admit to the warrior or herself that she prayed she would remember the way. Many years had passed since she had ventured into the tunnel, and she pushed aside the unsettling thought that they could become trapped. Puddles dampened their feet as water trickled down the dirt walls, the small holes in her own shoes making her shiver. Moss grew indiscriminately from cracks and across the supporting wall face. The chill in the air made their breath visible, and Bridgett wondered if the cape she wore would keep her warm enough as they rode through the brisk Welsh night. They sloshed through pools of standing water, making their way through a passage to freedom. For Bridgett this meant an uncertain life, albeit without the mental cruelties of her dominating brother, for Lord Wraith, a reprieve from a death sentence. She tried to remain optimistic that every step taken brought her closer to a life that would be better than the one she now lived. Raising the torch to illuminate the poorly lit corridor, a long forgotten crossroad began to materialize. Bridgett stared confusedly at the two diverging tunnels that disintegrated into two black abysses. Her decision needed to be swift and decisive for time was of the essence. “A decision I had forgotten about, milord. Care to wager a guess as to the direction to take.” Silence answered her echoed inquiry. Thoughtfully she chewed on her bottom lip, dreading an incorrect choice. Her heart thundered and her eyes flitted from one to the other. Suddenly, an errant drop of frigid water dripped from the eroded ceiling and splashed across her face. The intrusion jarred her back to reality and the important decision. Her concentration now redirected, she forged ahead with renewed determination. Ultimately choosing the tunnel on the left, she urged her companion forward with an encouraging squeeze. Realizing an incorrect decision could bring them directly into Lothar’s punishing grasp, Bridgett uttered a silent prayer. The chosen tunnel seemed to meander aimlessly for a short time, gradually narrowing, bringing the two figures closer. Bridgett could feel the muscles covering Lord Wraith’s ribcage pressing intimately against her shoulder and breast. An unexpected tingle of excitement shot through her at the thought of being in such close proximity to the very masculine body beside her. As the narrowing continued, Bridgett turned her body in such a way that both her breasts pressed securely into his side as she continued to support his bulk. She wondered if he could feel her nipples hardening against him and peered up into his darkened features. If he did feel her body pressed intimately against his own, he did not openly acknowledge it and continued to stare straight ahead. Bridgett cautiously rolled her eyes ceiling ward just in time to catch a small, almost imperceptible, glance by curious male eyes. His reaction to her nearness gave her a tiny bit of optimism that he was in fact human. As they continued, Bridgett’s concern mounted at the thought that the tunnel end might be obstructed from years of idleness. Panic consumed her at the mere consideration that they could be forced to turn around or risk capture. She would not subject herself or Lord Wraith to Lothar’s cruel methods of punishment if he were to apprehend them. He would no doubt be livid

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when he discovered his prized prisoner missing, as well as outraged by Bridgett’s flight from his controlling rule over her. Just as she contemplated possible alternate options, the end became visible. Releasing a shuddering sigh of relief, she could feel tears begin to pool in her eyes. So great was her joy and happiness, she bravely blinked away the offending signs of emotion and threw back her head with renewed determination. A huge boulder partially blocked the mouth of the cave, further disguised by overhanging foliage. They cautiously slipped around the boulder’s edge and parted the branches that obscured the opening. The oppressive, stale air in the tunnel gave way to crisp, fresh, night air as they burst through to freedom. Stars blanketed the night sky, spreading out like scattered jewels upon a dark cloth. Bridgett planted the lone torch against the boulder, guarding against discovery by a passing wall sentry. She left the wounded knight against the boulder as she strained for some sign of their deliverance. Vaguely, she could make out the figure of a man and one gigantic beast as they stood a small distance from the cave opening. “James, ‘tis that you?” she rasped tentatively. “Aye milady, ‘tis I.” The faithful squire moved stealthily out of the shadows with the monstrous beast in tow. “James, why is there but one animal? I distinctly remember asking for two since there are two riders.” “I had only enough time to obtain one horse without risking discovery, milady. I brought Lord Wraith’s destrier, knowing the animal is large enough to carry both of you.” The castle populace had not condoned the punishment of Lord Wraith, yet they silently observed the brutalities for fear of retribution by their merciless leader. James and the others had quietly awaited their chance to aid in the warrior’s release. “I do thank you, James, but I will need your assistance with getting his lordship upon that enormous horse.” Movement from behind caused Bridgett to whirl around as she was confronted by a huge shadowed figure. Unexpectedly, Wraith broke the silence to address them. “I need no assistance to mount my own warhorse.” His deep, authoritative voice surprised the two as they stared up at the dark hulking form. The timbre of his voice caused an unexpected shiver to creep up Bridgett’s spine. Finally, he speaks, she thought, and his voice is as masculine as the rest of him. The intimidating figure bent slightly to address Bridgett. “If you will place your cape upon my shoulders, I will, in turn, keep you warm.” Another shiver swept through her body at the promise of more close contact with this powerful man. With the assistance of James, Bridgett went up on tiptoes to secure the long cape upon the shoulders of the towering warlord. He tied the cape securely to his neck and proceeded to struggle stiffly up into the familiar perch of his own saddle. The considerable effort caused him obvious pain, for he bowed his head for several moments, as if he attempted to regain his energy. Then, leaning towards Bridgett, he offered his hand to her. With trepidation, she grasped his huge palm and was propelled, with very little effort, onto his lap. She could feel his burly thighs beneath her posterior and quickly made every effort to cover her legs with the voluminous skirt. Snaking a single arm around her middle, she was pulled against the solid planes of his chest. Finally, he drew the cape around them to cocoon them in their combined body heat.

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At the sudden close contact with his hard, muscled chest, she sucked in her breath while trying to distance their bodies, only to have him lace his arm even tighter until he touched the undersides of her breasts. The destrier began to prance and sidestep at the realization that his master was once again upon his back. “Say your farewells, milady, for we must make haste.” The commanding tone left little for discussion. Briefly, she remembered who sat at her back. A man they called a heartless warrior, a man with the reputation for murdering many. Blowing James a kiss, she thanked him graciously for risking his life. “Please hurry back at once, James. Stay hidden and divulge nothing, my friend. And may God bless you for what you have done.” One last glance at the looming outline of the castle wall gave Bridgett a pang of regret at having to flee the only home she had ever known. Her future held much uncertainty with the mighty yet frightening man seated behind her. The alternative would involve risking death to remain in the cruel, tyrannical, and oppressive control of her brother. Having freed Lord Wraith, she no longer had that option. With the farewells complete, Bridgett watched Lord Wraith rein the horse’s head, tighten his grip on her, and head away from the source of much pain. She had no way of knowing what lay ahead, since her life now was indeed in the hands of this formidable killer.

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Chapter Two He had been at the edge of death, and yet she had called him back. Wraith stared down at the blonde mane and wondered what had prompted her to do such a dangerous thing. She had holes in her shoes and tears in her dress, was she a servant? Why would a mere servant risk her very life to save his and tend to his horrendous wounds with such expert knowledge? Had she been mistreated by Lothar and sought escape? Judging by the state of her clothes, Lothar cared nothing for his servants. Whoever she was, he was eternally indebted and would return the favor in kind. As they left the tunnel, they proceeded at a brisk walk, not wishing to injure either the horse or themselves in the darkness. They made haste towards the heavy cover of the forest, at the edge of a vast meadow. Wraith’s eyes narrowed as he searched the dark wood for any sign of his men. He knew Perrin and his army were somewhere nearby. Perrin was Wraith’s commander and was responsible for the welfare and leadership of the troops in his absence. Wraith knew Perrin would never leave while Lothar imprisoned him. More than likely, he had searched and planned to storm the impregnable castle in an effort to free him. He knew also that Perrin was above the more detestable tactics of guaranteeing castle surrender such as burning or poisoning the water supply. In the four days he had been imprisoned, Perrin had probably prepared for a siege as he constructed numerous trebuchets, springalds, and battering rams to breach the curtain wall. As they rode into the dark thicket of the forest, Wraith scanned the surrounding timbers for any sign of his soldiers. He shielded their faces from low-hanging branches with the edge of the cape, hearing only the crunching of dry foliage and the snapping of twigs under his stallion’s feet. The farther they ventured, the more concerned he became, until suddenly, a small torch caught his attention. Relief swelled as he focused on a familiar sight, a black shield with silver crossed swords-his coat of arms. As they approached, a horde of knights slowly encircled. Perrin strode towards them, smiling broadly, as his eyes briefly moved towards the beauty nestled upon his lap. “My lord, I am beyond words in my relief that you are alive and well. We had begun to fear the worst atrocities at the hands of that bastard Lothar.” Wraith found himself stifling a cough at the unguarded remark by his commander-at-arms. However, before he could respond, Perrin addressed the woman. “Allow me to introduce myself, dear lady, I am Perrin de Mallet, Lord Wraith’s first in command.” Bowing his head, he showed his respect. Perrin and Wraith had become inseparable friends as the two had trained as lads under Lord de Marten, initiating them into knighthood. Their friendship went far beyond simple camaraderie in that the pair was loyal and devoted to each other to the point of death. “I am Bridgett de Griffyth, sister to the bastard,” she replied. Gasps and low rumblings coursed through the troops as Perrin’s jaw dropped. Likewise, Wraith’s back stiffened as his sight focused on the thin veil and circlet and the long blond braid that cascaded down the back of his very alluring savior.

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“Nay, that cannot be, milady. I cannot believe that Lothar’s own sister would be in the company of his mortal enemy.” Perrin’s smile had vanished and his eyes widened in shock. “’Twas Lady Bridgett who saved me from certain death, without her bravery I would most probably be dead,” Wraith announced. En masse, the men prostrated before her. “Rise, loyal Knights, we must hasten our departure. We must distance ourselves from Lothar before he is upon us.” Weaponry clanged and mail clinked as the men stood and approached their mounts. “Aye, milord, we shall leave at once.” Slowly bending on one knee, he paid homage to his liege lord. Then mounting his horse, he raised one fist in the air, signaling the troops to move. The large force of horses and men quietly moved through the thick groves of vegetation as they made their way to a winding dirt road on the other side. The army kept up the slow but steady pace as they vacated the area. In her concern, Bridgett leaned back against Wraith’s chest to question him before they departed. “Milord, are you in need of additional salve before we continue?” Wraith bent forward in an effort to hear her words but in the darkness miscalculated his proximity. For as Bridgett turned her face towards him, their lips touched ever so lightly. The softest of gasps escaped as she withdrew. Wraith had not moved for he had found pleasure in the unexpected caress. Her lips were soft and sweet and they beckoned him to continue, yet he knew this was neither the time nor the place to commence such activities. Besides, he did not think it wise to become involved with Lothar’s sister. He knew also that he was not worthy of such a woman. “I need nothing more than to leave this hellish place,” he rasped in a low, ominous tone. He wished to maintain his commanding ways in all aspects of their relationship. If he upheld his cold demeanor, she would not misinterpret his motives. Gathering the reins, he touched his heels to sides of the steed. As they reached the road, he moved to the head of the formation until he flanked Perrin. “We will ride hard for several hours, at which time we will sleep and rest the horses.” “Aye, milord.” Perrin did not question his leader, only obeyed. Wraith was even more curious now about the woman perched upon his lap. Finding out she was the sister to his most hated enemy certainly complicated matters. Her reasons behind her betrayal to Lothar must be powerful ones. Her brother had a reputation as a cruel and sadistic man. It was rumored that Lothar delighted in the torture and suffering of his victims. Wraith could not fathom why they referred to him as the heartless warrior, when he took lives only out of necessity. Killing was a messy business no matter the reason, and Wraith only performed it when circumstances demanded. The fact that he killed with such proficiency did not lessen the magnitude of the deed itself. Yet it seemed incomprehensible that such an evil man could be related, by blood, to such a caring and sensitive woman as Bridgett. As he stole a glance at his guest, his mind wandered to the first time he saw her. She had called him as he lapsed in and out of consciousness. He considered the idea that he had died and was now in heaven as an angel spoke to him. Slowly raising his head, he stared at the beautiful golden vision. The torches illuminated her face enough for him to see her large, clear, blue eyes, her slender nose, and lush full lips. As she assisted him to the wall, he noticed the long glorious blond hair that swayed in a braid well past her waist. As they galloped along in a rhythmic motion, the scent of her hair immersed him as he tried to focus on the more pressing matters at hand. However, he seemed to be fighting a losing battle as her very feminine scent of rose and woman mingled, tantalizing him. He would not let

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her redirect his mind to his baser instincts. He had no time to be tempted by this woman’s softness and vulnerability when he needed to concentrate on Lothar’s pursuit. Besides, he had never known anything but being a warrior, which had left little time for serious relationships. He would protect her, as a favor for saving his life, beyond that there could be nothing more. **** As they rode through the night, the gusty wind became more chilled and mist hovered over the road. It was early fall and brisk weather invaded the Welsh countryside during the evening hours. Bridgett tried to remain inconspicuous as she snuggled closer against Wraith’s chest in an effort to borrow his body heat. She wrapped the cape edges securely in front of her, sealing them both in a makeshift cocoon of warmth. Periodically, she felt her head fall back against his leather-clad shoulder as she dozed off for a nap. Sometime during the middle of the night, Wraith must have deviated from the path into the dark cover of the forest pine trees. She awakened to see his considerable troops stopped and waiting for his command. Turning in the saddle, he addressed his men as his posture commanded their immediate attention. “We will dismount here, get a few hours rest, and in the morn we will find water for the horses.” Dismounting, he turned and raised his arms towards Bridgett to offer his assistance. She immediately leaned towards him and placed her hands on his expansive shoulders for support, all the while gazing into his imperceptible face. Her eyes strained, attempting to get a glimpse of his appearance, yet once again, the darkness obscured his features. She had heard numerous rumors regarding his face and wished to make her own assessment of his looks. The rumors always referred to his constant scowl, saying that the man never once had broken into a smile. His description included his infamous scar, acquired through gallant means, had become quite renowned. It was said that his scowl was so pronounced that it was at times difficult to discern his eye color. Nevertheless, her curiosity was great, and she could not wait until the morn to look upon his face. After meandering down a small path to attend to personal matters, she returned to the camp to find men covered completely with blankets and already fast asleep. The wind howled through the brittle leaves that rustled with each gust. The weather had turned to a mixture of icy rain and frigid air. Shivering, she wandered towards the area where Wraith had tethered his destrier and found a crudely constructed tent made out of blankets suspended from pine tree branches. As she approached, Wraith stepped out of the shadows of the moonlight to hand her yet another blanket. “You may sleep inside the tent. It will protect you from chill. I will sleep just outside, should you need me for anything.” His voice was deep and emotionless. Yet she could not ignore the chivalrous demeanor displayed by this knight. Snuggling into the blankets as best as she could, she found that the swirling wind penetrated her bones and permeated her very being. She could hear Wraith’s heavy breathing and suspected that he slept despite the chilly circumstances. Warriors routinely trained in cold and hostile conditions. Their survival depended on their ability to conserve energy and attain much needed sleep at any given time. With the possibility of Lothar’s pursuit, they knew they needed to steal a few hours of sleep. After what seemed like hours of elusive slumber, Bridgett heard the rustling of the grass outside her tent and knew Wraith was there. She remained fully awake and shivering mightily. “Why do you not sleep yet, milady?” he whispered in annoyance.

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“I cannot seem to stay warm, milord.” She shivered even more violently. “I surmised as much from the chatter of your teeth, milady,” he shot back testily. Hearing the rustle of grass, she assumed he moved to another area for quiet yet was surprised when he moved to enter the tent structure. Her heart slammed in her chest as he positioned himself behind her in a spoon fashion. With her back nestled against his chest and stomach, she immediately began to relax in the comfort of his soothing heat. A contented sigh issued forth from her lips as she felt herself drift off into contented slumber. She snuggled into his secure embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. Slipping into a deep sleep, she luxuriated in the warmth and safety of his arms. Bridgett awakened to the sound of men’s voices, creaking leather, and clinking chain mail as the garrisons of knights prepared to depart. She knew they needed to move quickly in order to avoid Lothar’s advancing troops. Suddenly remembering the previous night, her head spun to peer behind her, only to find the back of the tent structure illuminating the dawning daylight. She had slept in contented bliss, thanks to the warmth of the considerate knight who had left before daylight. She stretched like a satisfied feline and smiled at the thought of finally seeing the lord’s mysterious face. Parting the blankets, she rose and hurried towards the sound of running water in order to freshen herself before their departure. Making her way down the grassy, overgrown path, she covered her face with her arms in a protective gesture. As she entered the clearing, the all-to familiar sight of torturous whip marks upon a supremely muscular back confronted her. Wraith whirled around to face his unknown enemy, a scowl of hatred and intimidation plastered upon his face. Bridgett found herself face to face with the infamous killing machine whose reputation was legendary. He stared down with a glower that caused his black brows to shadow his eye sockets. His fierce scowl could not disguise the chiseled and handsome features lurking behind the violent mask. His chin was square and determined. The scar was plainly visible upon his right cheek yet did not detract from his features. Bridgett let her eyes wander slowly to his lips and then move back to his eyes. In his astonishment, his brows rose, pinning Bridgett with a shockingly beautiful pair of green eyes that bored into her very soul. “Never sneak up on a warrior, my lady. Your life could have ended right here, had I not hesitated first.” His voice was deep and threatening, yet soft. Bridgett’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide with awe. Her mistake could have added her to his list of butchered foes. Yet after the initial surprise, she felt another sensation taking hold. A tingle of forbidden danger surrounded this man. His chest rose and fell and his nostrils flared as though he prepared for a great battle, yet he continued to stare intently into her eyes. He had obviously shaved, for his face was clean-shaven. He was bare-chested, and Bridgett could plainly see every muscle on the hard plains of his expansive chest. Her eyes darted from his highly developed chest and stomach to return to his pinning stare. “Do I sicken you with my ugly face?” His voice was deep and angry. “Nay, milord, I had no thought of ugliness when I gazed upon your face,” she replied softly. “You lie, beautiful lady, there has never been a woman who was not repulsed by my face!” His jaw clenched as his fists tightened into menacing weapons, yet she did not feel fearful. She could feel her brow crinkle as her eyes narrowed slightly. “I do not believe I would ever use the word, repulsed, in regard to your face, milord.”

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Diminishing the gap between them, he lowered his face to within inches of her upturned one. She could feel his warm breath upon her lips as he glared into her eyes angrily. He dropped his sword as he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, pulling her against his body. He seemed to be having some inner turmoil as to whether he wanted to pummel her fiercely or kiss her passionately. He continued to clutch her shoulders as he breathed heavily and stared intently. Then slowly, he relaxed and released her, allowing her to end the shrugging position. His hands fell to his sides. He turned, gathered his items, and headed towards the path. She watched as his great strides continued towards the dense growth of the forest. She was mesmerized by his height, brawn, and his looks. His dominant maleness easily put all other men to shame. Massive muscles covered every inch of his body, flexing and bunching as he walked away from her. His black hair swayed as it touched the tops of his broad, bare shoulders. She had not even realized she had been looking at him so thoroughly until he had been gone for a few moments. Her attraction to the manly knight was undeniable, yet puzzling. One minute he looked ready to kill, the next ready to ravage. She would indulge her fascination until she could question someone at his castle. **** Wraith stomped back into camp, his agitation evident to all who witnessed his return and every man pointedly avoided his path for fear of confrontation. He was very often in a foul mood, and the knights had learned through experience that avoidance was the safest solution. As he gathered his belongings and stuffed them into a sack, he endeavored to analyze his reactions towards the enigmatic beauty who dared to stare him blatantly into the eye with no apparent fear or cowardice. She had stated that his face did not repulse her. She appeared to be telling the truth, for she had not cried, whimpered, or shaken from fright. Could it possibly be that a woman as beautiful as this one could find him attractive? Yet it mattered not what his feelings were for the stunning woman, she was sister to the brutal Lord Lothar and he was probably poised to attack in his anger to get Bridgett back. She was probably already betrothed to another anyway. Yet, questions nagged him as to why this woman would risk her very life to save a man left to die in the bowels of her brother’s dungeon. He could not deny his fear for her safety and vowed to keep her safe at Exeter Castle. No one was safe at the hands of the cruel and vengeful Lothar. Exeter Castle was Wraith’s largest castle holding, and he made it his primary home. It was at least two days journey from Conwy Castle, due south in the English countryside. Wraith imagined that Lothar would be strengthening his forces when their escape became common knowledge. He was no doubt following them with an army capable of demolishing Wraith’s troops with very little effort. As his mind returned to the present, he bent to pick up his shirt and felt a hand on his shoulder that caused him to whirl around quickly. He assumed the stance of a combatant, fists ready, without his sword in hand. As he faced open air, he quickly realized that his opponent was a great deal shorter than he was. Dropping his gaze, he stared into a pair of dazzling, crystalline blue eyes that peered up in an inquisitive manner. “Milord, ‘tis time for me to reapply salve to your wounds. We do not want infection to begin. Besides, the salve will lesson your pain for the remainder of our trip.” She seemed unconcerned with his fierce expression and threatening stance. “Did I not tell you not to surprise a warrior?” She smiled up at him in a teasing manner. “But your sword is not in your hand, milord. I thought it safe to proceed.”

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He could not believe her brazenness, to confront him after he had almost throttled her in his fierce grip back at the stream. Yet, she stood smiling up at him as though they had just shared a quaint breaking of the fast together. “Very well, since you are so insistent, but be hasty for we must be on our way.” He hoped his tone was an intimidating one. Turning his back to Bridgett, he waited with legs braced apart, as though he prepared to wage battle with an enemy. However, as soon as her fingers touched him, he felt a tingle of excitement course through his body that had nothing to do with the soothing salve. He closed his eyes and tried to separate himself from the unexpected feelings surfacing from this woman’s touch. He tried to reason with himself that she was soothing his pains. Yet, as the sensations continued to wreak havoc with his body, he imagined that it had been too long since he had had a woman to relieve his urges. He would make a point of grabbing a willing serving girl upon their arrival at Exeter Castle. As he stood silently, submitting to her tender ministrations, he could feel his manhood growing at an alarming rate. He would soon embarrass himself in front of his men and Bridgett if he did not end this immediately. Turning swiftly, he grabbed both of her hands in an effort to stop the sweet torture. He glared down into her questioning face and boldly stated, “Enough.” “Aye, milord, if you feel that I have applied enough.” She apparently did not comprehend his agitation. Turning abruptly, he grabbed his shirt and hastily threw it onto his back. Storming towards his mount, he prepared to depart. As he tightened the saddle and checked his weapons, he felt, even before he heard, Perrin’s approach. “Aye, she’s a stunning woman, is she not, Wraith?” The familiarity he used to address Wraith only surfaced when they were alone. A sly smile lifted half his mouth as he waited for a reply. “Beautiful, aye, but forbidden to me just as well.” His silence indicated that he was not willing to discuss the topic as he continued to pack his things. “What mean you, forbidden, Wraith? She is the sister of a powerful knight, just as you are a powerful lord and knight. ‘Tis a perfect match, my friend.” Perrin slapped him goodnaturedly on the back as he smiled again. Wraith stopped his packing abruptly to face his friend. “You know my past, Perrin. I am a killer. I even killed my own mother. I am not worthy of a woman such as she.” “That matters not, for I’ve seen Lady Bridgett gazing at you, my friend. Your conscious rules your life and t’will be for naught if you let this woman go.” Putting his fingers to his lips and issuing a shrill whistle, Wraith signaled departure to his legions of loyal knights. His avoidance of the topic had effectively dismissed Perrin as he turned his back on him. As much as his mind had been on Bridgett as of late, his concentration bore heavily on thoughts of where her bastard brother was at this very moment.

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Chapter Three They rode hard through the entire day, stopping only to attend to personal needs and to refresh the horses at a nearby stream. Bridgett became anxious for their journey to end. The relentless pace made conversation impossible and their close bodily contact did nothing but make her more aware than ever of Wraith’s maleness. However, she knew they must forge ahead or risk slipping into the hands of her brother. She sat in front of him, nestled in his strong embrace where she found herself feeling very comforted while reclining against his chest. The constant scent of horse, leather, and male was quite alluring and not in the least bit offensive. Occasionally, she would turn her head slightly up to sneak a peek at his stone-faced expression, her only reward being the glaring stare of his green-eyed scrutiny. He rode resolute and straight-backed as he maintained his cold, unaffected attitude. Having not had time to braid her hair this morn, she had mounted the horse not worrying about the simple act. Yet as they rode, the mantle she wore flew back, allowing her glorious blond tresses to fly freely about his face and chest. She snickered to think that the waving hair could annoy him. If it was the only attention she could get from him, then so be it. She pondered thoughts of why a man such as Wraith with his wealth, power, and reputation was not already married. Mayhap he was betrothed to a lady? The sudden thought gave her an uneasy feeling, a feeling that was alien to her. Leaving a meadow and entering another wooded area as dusk neared, the sky took on many colorful hues as day prepared to end. Wraith raised one powerful arm and fisted his hand, signaling the men to halt for the night. Bridgett breathed a sigh of relief, not at the thought of separation from the mighty lord, but at the thought of giving her bottom a chance to rest. The constant bouncing and sitting had rendered her numb in the posterior and she needed to attend to personal needs. Slipping off for a bit of privacy was a welcome prospect, after having to endure hours of riding upon a monstrous beast with no conversation to wile away the endless journey. After Wraith assisted her from the animal’s back, Bridgett stole away for a little quiet time of her own. She felt dirty and undesirable and decided to find a water source to bathe as best as she could. Wandering through the dense forest, she parted some branches. Ahead lay a pool of crystal-clear water that conjured up images of a mythical pond where unicorns might come to drink. The overhanging branches let the waning light filter through, creating an ethereal atmosphere ripe for the illusion. She became captivated by the enchanting scene and sat at the water’s edge to shed her shoes. Breathing deeply, she began to relax amidst the serene scenery and decided to bathe, washing away the dust and grime of the road. Her daring finally led her to strip away her hose, but short of shedding her gown. She decided to wade in the cool water to let it sooth her tired ankles and calves. Holding her gown just above the water line, she sighed in a supreme release of tension as she threw back her head in total abandonment. Hearing nothing but the chirping crickets and blissful solitude, she became even more daring with the approaching dusk. Bravely she slipped

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the shoulders of her gown off her body and sidled out of the dress. Cautiously gazing from left to right, she assessed the forest for unwanted visitors before flinging the gown to the shoreline. Hurriedly, she waded out into the shimmering water, secure that she was in fact alone. She daringly walked into the water until the cool, refreshing wetness covered her to the neck. She leisurely waded around the serene fluidity until she was absorbed by her surroundings. She had brought a small bar of rose-scented soap to wash away the grime of the road and she gingerly lathered her body with the bar. As the light continued to fade, she began to feel that she should return to camp. She could not imagine why someone had not come to investigate her whereabouts. Slowly she began to return to the grassy edge, as she did so she raised her arms to ring-out her long, blonde hair. **** Unbeknownst to Bridgett, Wraith had followed her to the pond, to ensure her safety. He never considered the fact that he might be intruding on her private bath time, or that he would be tempted to join her. As he quietly parted the thick foliage, he witnessed a scene that stole his breath away. Rising up out of the water, that was now waist-deep, emerged Bridgett, like a Venus of mythological times. With her arms raised to rinse back her long locks, her full breasts bounced and swayed as she exited the water. The areolas were large and rosy, the nipples distended with the chilly night air that approached. Her stomach was flat and enticing and her ribs showed as she arched her back to ring water from her heavy tresses. Long, shapely thighs began to emerge from the darkening waters and concluded at the apex of her legs where a tempting triangle of golden hair glistened from the wetness. Wraith could feel his growing male hardness straining against his chausses. He knew that he should not watch, but he was powerless to tear his eyes away from the lovely goddess as she ascended towards her waiting garments. Reaching the rock that held her clothing, she stopped suddenly, obviously sensing someone’s presence. Raising her head slowly, she made direct eye contact with him. Her breasts heaved with excitement and anxiety, as she seemed to realize that Wraith had in fact been watching her bathe. Oddly enough, she stood completely still, not attempting to cover her nakedness as her posture remained relaxed. If she did experience embarrassment she gave no indication but rather gazed back bewitchingly as she continued to bare her naked splendor for his perusal. Her breasts rose and fell and her lips parted invitingly, a come-hither expression eminent on her face and present in her body language. The minutes seemed to turn into years as they eyed each other and stood stock-still, Wraith’s eyes raking over the entire length of her nude form. Suddenly, turning on his heel, he disappeared into the thicket from whence he had come. Casting a fleeting glance over his shoulder as he retreated, he caught sight of Bridgett’s head as it slumped forward, a ragged sigh of disappointment punctuating the stillness. Had she thought him not enticed enough to take her virtue that she had so blatantly offered? It had taken every ounce of his chivalrous demeanor not to ravage her on the spot. He returned to camp annoyed with himself for showing weakness to her. He had never pursued a female in his life, and frankly felt no necessity in it, since females routinely offered themselves to him. It was a well-known fact that he had a healthy appetite for female companionship yet wished his partner gone by morning’s light. The women he chose felt honored to have his attentions and wished to gain marital status as his wife, for to do so would ensure an easier life. Yet, fearing unwanted attachments, Wraith invariably sent his bedmates away upon completion of the intimate act.

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As his mind returned to the present, he was readying the sleeping area when Bridgett returned to the campsite. He was determined to ignore her. Yet just as quickly, walked to her side and handed her a small square of material that held some hard bread and moldy cheese. He again instructed his men not to start a fire, fearing Lothar’s pursuit. He did not wish to advertise their whereabouts. The knights and he would gain a proper meal when they reached Exeter Castle the following afternoon. For the time being, they would rest the horses, gain needed nourishment, and benefit from a few hours sleep. “Thank you, milord. You do not have to feed me. I am, after all, your enemy.” Her head hung, and she cast her eyes downward. “’Tis not you who is my enemy, but your foul brother,” he replied. “I will protect you and take you to Exeter. ‘Tis the least I can do in repayment for my life.” Bridgett raised her head and locked gazes with him. “You have no idea what you have done for me, milord. I, like you, have escaped with my life.” He could feel his eyes narrow as his brow crinkled. “What mean you ‘with you life’? You are the lady of Castle Conwy, your brother is powerful and has probably betrothed you to a mate of noble peerage.” Turning, she walked a short distance to stand beside a gnarled tree, resting her hand upon the trunk. He followed until he stood almost touching her, unable to withstand not hearing the rest of her words. “My brother is not the upstanding lord everyone thinks he is but a clever slave owner disguised as a loyal knight.” His curiosity finally got the better of him as he moved to stand in front of her, yet still resisting the urge to touch her. “Tell me what he has done to you,” he demanded in a low, threatening tone. She again raised her head to meet his gaze. “He has betrothed me repeatedly to numerous men, all too old and decrepit to last more than a fortnight.” Wraith could feel a muscle twitch in his jaw as his hands fought the urge to crush something. “It has always been his wish to have glorious riches and land aplenty, so he married me off to men who were guaranteed to perish in very little time leaving him richer than before. He has always hungered for what you represent and possess, milord. At the time of your escape, I was to become betrothed yet again.” At this point, she closed her eyes in a futile effort to escape what evils plagued her. Shocked by her words and sickened by the images she produced, he spun around to give her his back. He did not want her to see the rage and anger that was probably present on his face. She would be horrified if she saw on his face what he was actually feeling. It was all he could do not to scream with disgust. Turning to look at her, he coached his feelings to a tame enough level not to frighten her. “Time is critical and the distance to travel still far, milady, we had best rest whilst we may.” Wraith decided there and then to repay Lothar for what he was doing to Bridgett, she did not deserve his horrendous treatment and he would soon pay very dearly for it.

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Chapter Four Bridgett sat on a nearby tree stump, munching her meal as she watched Wraith again set about constructing a tree-tent. He secured blankets to low-lying branches and proceeded to lie down outside the structure in his own nest of blankets. She finished her food, dusted off the crumbs, and crawled into the structure. He appeared to be sleeping as she curled into a tight ball and attempted to sleep. However, within the span of an hour, she was once again shivering uncontrollably. She became vaguely aware of movement outside the tent as he quietly surrounded her with his heat. Immediately she surrendered to the protective feeling of his arms as he pulled her into his safe embrace. She sighed and snuggled closer to his body. Hours passed and Bridgett slept contentedly as she continued to nestle against him. In her sleepiness, she turned around and now lay face-to-face with him. Propping her head upon his shoulder, she burrowed her face against the heat of his neck. Her hands lay against his chest and her legs lay wedged between his. Her breasts pressed comfortably into his side, and she had no regrets about the intimate contact of their bodies as she reveled in the contented bliss of coziness. As the tent interior began to lighten and morning birds began to chirp, Bridgett realized that her heat source had vanished. She longed to snuggle against the huge body that had guarded her from danger and freezing temperatures. Fitfully, she dozed again. She awoke suddenly to the sound of men’s commands, the clinking of chain mail, and whinnying horses. Instantly she jumped up and exited the tent, fully believing that they intended to leave her. Wraith stood some distance away, nonchalantly saddling his horse and packing his belongings. Bridgett combed her fingers through her hair as she ran towards him. “Milord, did you think to leave me?” Wraith slowly turned and lowered his head, his glaring green gaze pinning her assessingly. “Nay, I thought only to let you sleep until we were prepared to depart.” While still pulling grass from her long strands, Bridgett moved quickly to gather her things. “Give me but a moment to attend to private matters and I shall be ready to depart, milord.” Ignoring her, Wraith turned again towards his horse to finish packing. Within moments, Bridget was smoothing her skirts as she gracefully walked from the coverage of the woods. Without waiting, Wraith hoisted her onto his lap and kicked the steed into motion. Scouts had returned to report that no massive army followed. Wraith and Perrin made no secret of the fact that they much preferred to reach the safety of Exeter where proper plans could be made and a tactical defense could be devised. Garrisons of loyal knights followed dutifully behind their leader, making haste to break camp and exit the area. No one wished to confront Lothar’s heavily armed forces while still in unfamiliar territory. Better to be in the protective confines of Castle Exeter, securely armed with accurate longbowmen and skilled crossbowmen. Depending upon the situation, Wraith could call for additional reinforcements from his other castle holdings. He could amass a veritable army in short notice if Lothar chose to threaten Exeter.

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As they galloped along at a brisk pace, the sunny day revealed itself in bright sunshine, a brilliant, azure blue sky, and wispy clouds that fanned out overhead. A gentle breeze refreshed the riders as they forged ahead towards their destination clad in stifling chain mail and leather. At their current rate of speed, they would doubtless stay ahead of Lothar’s forces. Dust rose as the legions of warriors galloped along the drying roadbeds. Wraith pressed the men to continue at a relentless pace. The riders snaked around a curvature in the road bordered heavily by tall, mature trees, a wide open and spacious meadow yawned before them. It stretched a great distance until it rose gradually into a sizable mound, whereupon a majestic castle proudly stood. Instantly Bridgett knew this to be Wraith’s Exeter, for upon the watch turrets waved heraldry flags bearing a black background with crossed silver swords. The impressive structure towered over the surrounding landscape, demanding respect for the powerful warlord and his fortified home. The massive stone walls loomed over the countryside and afforded safety and a commanding view of the surrounding area. Enemy forces could easily be seen as they swept across the meadow in an attempt to attack the castle over the vast open spaces. Approaching the enormous gatehouse, Bridgett caught a glimpse of armed guards peering through the crenels atop the gatehouse walls. In homage to their approaching liege lord, the imposing drawbridge began to drop allowing admittance to the thundering army. The pace slowed considerably as they reached the entrance. The warhorses rumbled onto the wooden surface, their sizable hooves struck the surface and reverberated off the interior of the entranceway. Just as the deafening sound became unbearable, Wraith’s horse immerged into the lower bailey. Bridgett surveyed the area and was astounded to find throngs of loyal castle folk emerging from their thatched roof homes. They waved and whistled as Lord Wraith pranced by on his magnificent black steed. He inclined his head from one side to the other in obvious respect and recognition of his loyal subjects. However, his face maintained an emotionless mask. Bridgett felt safe in the circle of Wraith’s strong embrace, although she knew his people would undoubtedly question her presence. The army of knights eventually made their way to the middle bailey and stopped in front of the main castle keep. Huge double doors opened, whereupon more people emerged from the castles interior. Perrin reined his mount beside Wraith’s and dismounted while awaiting orders from his commander. As Wraith’s horse came to a stop, Bridgett spotted an attractive, darkhaired female with flashing blue eyes. She seemed rather agitated that Wraith returned with a strange female upon his lap. Hateful glances were directed at Bridgett as she turned to accept help from Wraith’s outstretched arms. Again, she placed her hands atop his shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. His firm grasp on her waist lifted her from the destrier’s back as he slowly let her slide down the entire length of his body until her feet finally touched the ground. Her head fell back while she stared up into his face. Suddenly he turned his head and effectively dismissed her from his thoughts. Turning, he strode, with an assertive and powerful gait towards the welcoming crowd. Perrin sensed Bridgett’s uncertainty and bent to offer his arm. “Milady,” he said sweetly. Turning her head, she gazed up into his blue eyes and placed her hand tentatively upon his proffered arm. She was extremely thankful that Perrin possessed the manners that his liege lord lacked, since she already felt miserably out of place.

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Perrin was a handsome, young man with flowing, light, brown hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders. He was almost as tall as Wraith, although not quite as brawny in build. He had a sweet face that any female would find attractive, for already, Bridgett noticed a number of young women attempting to smile and wave at the handsome knight. Bridgett had noticed that all of Wraith’s men were in superb condition, being heavily muscled and somewhat tanned from their outdoor maneuvers. She imagined him to be a ruthless commander who demanded superior fighting skills and excellent physical condition in his troops. It was said that Wraith never expected anything from his men that he could not perform himself. One look at his body was enough to see that the man devoted his entire life to his profession. Reaching the top of the steps, a fatherly looking man with snow-white hair clapped Wraith upon the shoulder. The man, however, was far from elderly despite his hair coloring. His impressive stature was further enhanced by a darkly tanned complexion and a brilliantly white smile. What a boon for any unmarried female to be in the midst of so many comely men, thought Bridgett, as she had not seen an uncomely man since she had arrived. “Richard, my friend, what a pleasure ‘tis to still be among the living.” Wraith embraced the older man in an affectionate bear hug, yet his face remained stern. “Come inside, milord, and tell us of your adventures with that scoundrel Lothar.” He had just started to turn away when his gaze caught on Bridgett as she stood by Perrin’s side, still grasping his forearm. “Why Perrin, did you find yourself a young bride while away with our lordship?” He cocked his head in an inquisitive manner as his eyes flitted between the two. “Hell no!” Wraith’s booming voice halted everyone’s conversation as all heads snapped toward the furious leader. Realizing he caused the deafening silence, he lowered his voice and introduced Bridgett to the gathering crowd. “’Tis Lady Bridgett de Griffyth, sister to Lord Lothar, I have brought back with me. She is the reason I am still alive to stand before you.” Loud gasps reverberated through the masses. “Lady Bridgett, allow me to introduce you to Sir Richard de Marten, more of a father than my own blood ever was.” Sir Richard took Bridgett’s hand and lightly kissed her digits in a most courteous manner as she studied his ageless features. Gazing up into the older man’s eyes, she gave him a thoroughly dazzling smile. “I’m most pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Richard.” Rising from her curtsy, she began to gaze around the milling crowd. Sir Richard offered his arm as a gesture of friendship, and she graciously accepted. Moving towards the main steps, her eyes latched onto the fiery stare of the striking brunette. Again, the female shot daggers at her with her heated vision, as if trying to send her a silent message. Bridgett broke eye contact and proceeded up the grand stone steps into the castle keep. Passing through the huge double doors, the daylight dimmed into a darkened interior hall. Straight ahead, Bridgett could see three steps leading down into the main meeting area. The immenseness of the area surprised her, and she marveled at the classic yet simple surroundings. A gigantic fireplace with a thick wooden mantle graced the meeting hall, the fire bathing the dark, gloomy room with a welcoming glows. Around the perimeter of the room hung various weapons including several mace, halberds, longbows, crossbows, and an enormous assortment of swords. Bridgett thought this most appropriate since Wraith was a warrior knight and had no doubt trained with any and all of these tools of war. Towards the right side of the hall was a spiral staircase, winding clockwise, as was the usual. Staircases most often wound their way upwards in a clockwise direction, since most

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warriors were right-handed. An attacking soldier would be forced to ascend the stairs using his weapon in his left hand, a difficult feat for most. While the defending soldier could descend his stairs wielding his weapon in his right hand, the more prolific arm, thereby giving him the distinct advantage. Back against the rear of the room was a rather wide entranceway leading into the dining area. Many benches and tables lay side-by-side, idle and waiting to serve the impending throng of ravenous soldiers who would be making an appearance very soon. A raised dais lay perpendicular to the other tables, where the noblemen feasted. Bridgett stopped to watch as Wraith addressed a few more bowing members of the castle. As she continued to scrutinize her surroundings, Sir Richard beckoned a young girl to stand before her. “This is Judith, a handmaiden. She will assist you to the upstairs common room for unmarried females.” Sir Richard smiled at her and bowed. The girl standing before Bridgett was very nearly the same height, yet her features remained hidden as she bowed her head. She wore a simple wimple with a veil that covered the two plaited braids resting snuggly at the sides of her head. Her dress was a very plain grey, woolen frock that buttoned modestly to her neck. Shyly, she raised her eyes to meet Bridgett’s gaze and immediately broke into a radiant smile when she realized that Bridgett smiled back. Bridgett extended her hands towards the timid girl and was rewarded with firm hand grasping with both of her calloused palms. A spontaneous, invisible bond seemed to form between the two girls, and Bridgett knew she had found an ally amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces. “My name is Bridgett.” She would offer no more information at this time as the girl released one of Bridgett’s hands and turned to lead her up the staircase. Out of the corner of her eye, Bridgett caught the always-present gaze of the dark lord, Wraith. Why did he treat her with such coldness and indifference yet watch her with such regularity? Perhaps he felt duty-bound to protect her since she had saved his life. Perhaps it was just idle curiosity for the sister of his most hated enemy. Yet, she did not sense hatred from his perusal, but rather something more akin to admiration or inquisitiveness. Perhaps Judith could shed some light on the questions that haunted her. Ascending the stairs, the two girls made their way through a series of darkened hallways, until they came upon a large, old, weathered and cracked door. Judith lifted the latch and opened the creaking doorway to reveal a rather voluminous room where at least ten pallets lay scattered about on the cold, stone floor. They walked through the maze to a corner pallet, her pointing finger indicating Bridgett’s sleeping area. Turning, Bridgett grasped her hands. “Thank you for your hospitality Judith. I have no clothes other than the clothes I now wear. My departure was rather hasty and unscheduled.” She offered Judith a pathetic smile amidst her embarrassment. “I understand, milady. Not to worry. His lordship will make sure you have clothing to wear. Lord Wraith is a hardened man but he has always taken care of his people.” Bridgett found herself smiling at the thought that the cold-hearted man actually did possess a beating heart somewhere in that superbly muscular chest of his. She sensed that now might be a good time to satisfy her curiosity. “May I ask you a few questions while we are alone?” she ventured. “Aye, milady, ask whatever you wish.” Judith continued placing blankets atop Bridgett’s pallet as she listened.

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“Who is the attractive brunette with fire in her eyes whenever she glances in my direction?” “Aye, that would be Margarete. The wench has her sights set on Lord Wraith as a husband, but ‘tis not possible for she is but a servant and him a nobleman. She does warm his bed quite often though. Our lordship has quite a healthy male appetite for comely females.” Judith smiled coquettishly as she offered a devilish wink. At this admittance, Bridgett found herself a bit infuriated. She could not fathom why she should feel the least bit angered by this news. After all, Wraith was not her betrothed, lover, or even a close acquaintance. She did possess an undeniably strong physical attraction to him, but that in no way gave her license to feel jealousy over his female companionship. “Tell me of his lordship then, Judith, if I am not prying too much.” Bridgett dropped down onto a nearby pallet as she listened intently. “Aye, milady, that would be a very sad tale, for his lordship has had a sad and lonely existence.” Judith sat beside Bridgett on the pallet. “Wraith was born by unnatural circumstances, milady, his mother could not birth him so he had to be cut from her body.” Bridgett shivered as she listened yet did not interrupt. “He was a large babe, just as he is a large man, and his mum was a little bit of a thing. ‘Tis said that his father, Lord Michel de Kingsley, was beside himself after the death of his beloved wife.” “I know of a Sir Michel, but he could not possibly be the same man, could he?” questioned Bridgett. “Oh no, your ladyship, Wraith’s father died some years back during a crusade, his body was never found. Anyway, he went into an uncontrollable rage and sent Lord Wraith to train with Sir Richard. He is a highly skilled knight who specializes in training extremely aggressive soldiers and knights. You met him in the entranceway.” Bridgett could feel her mouth drop open at the discovery that the charming man at the door was actually a skilled knight. “Lord de Kingsley loathed his young son for killing his beloved wife. He named him Wraith, which means ghost, to remind him of his sins for all eternity.” Tears began to trickle down her cheeks and drip from her chin. A rush of sorrow tore at her heart, and she could not comprehend such hatred and cruelty. She suddenly understood Wraith’s attitude towards life. “He never knew his mother and barely his father for his entire life, ‘tis little wonder the man is cold and ruthless. He has never been shown any kindness.” Bridgett’s compassion flowed out with her tears. “Nay, milady, Lord Wraith is by no means ruthless and cold. He is a wonderful man. He just shows no emotions and has not allowed himself to love any woman.” Bridgett wiped the moisture from her eyes and turned to face Judith. “Sir de Marten was his trainer and father as well, as much as was possible under the circumstances. Yet, never having a woman’s soft caress and comforting words of praise, ‘tis understandable why his lordship is without emotions. All he needs is the right person to show him these things.” Bridgett pondered her words for a moment, actually wondering if she could be that right person. “We had best go down to dine with his lordship, Lady Bridgett.” The two females finished preparing the pallets and descended the staircase towards the dining room. Rounding the corner, quite a different atmosphere greeted them now. As they entered the immense room,

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the aroma of freshly cooked venison and goose assaulted their senses. Steaming platters of freshly baked brown bread made Bridgett’s mouth water, for she had not eaten an adequate meal for some days. The sounds of lusty, male laughter blended with the clanking of goblets as they served as salutary toasting vessels. Loud conversation filled the room and all present were engaged in conversation whilst enjoying the bountiful feast. Bridgett quickly scanned the room for the object of her thoughts and found him presiding over his loyal subjects at the head table reserved for noblemen. His dark head tilted to one side as he listened intently to something Perrin discussed. As he slowly nodded in an affirmative gesture, he languorously turned his head until his gaze locked with hers. His head rose slightly as he realized her arrival, which, in turn, caused Perrin to turn his head out of pure curiosity. At the sight of the two noblemen’s intent gaze, several more male heads turned in her direction. Bridgett began to feel self-conscious and lowered her head as she slithered onto the long bench. She attempted to blend in with the other females and slouched on the bench while waiting for the trencher to arrive. Judith and she shared the trencher of food while she let her eyes wander towards Wraith who sat casually conversing and eating his meal. She wished to observe him at her leisure yet made every attempt to not be seen while staring with fascination. Periodically he would place some food in his mouth or sip at his golden wine vessel. He limited his drinking to small sips all the while maintaining a clear head, a trait learned by well-trained soldiers. By contrast, some of his men laughed uproariously and sloshed down great quantities of wine and ale in a blatant effort to become drunk. As Wraith preserved his commanding stature at the head of the table, he occasionally leaned his head towards Perrin in an apparent attempt at conversation. As usual, his forehead jutted forward until his black brows knitted together, creating a ledge that made his eye sockets fathomless black pits. His black hair swayed about his shoulders as he leaned towards and away from Perrin. Bridgett’s gaze wandered down his face to discover a straight nose with slightly flaring nostrils, giving an even more dangerous appearance to his stern expression. His high cheekbones and strong jaw accentuated the hard line of his lips, which were probably rather sensuous when not fraught with tension. The scar upon his right cheek did not seem to detract from his forceful looks. Rather, it gave him a darker look that Bridgett found very attractive. “You are quite taken with his lordship, are you not, milady?” Judith’s sudden observation jarred Bridgett from her thoughts. Wide-eyed and at a loss for words, Bridgett stammered in a feeble attempt to disguise her lust and fascination for the powerful man who had embraced her for days. “Why…no…Judith, I have nothing but respect and admiration for his lordship. His appearance at Conwy was done with the purest of intentions, and my brother took advantage of him. I did nothing more than any other female would have done.” She gazed at her folded hands as she lowered her voice. “I heard Lord Wraith introduce you as the savior of his life, I believe ‘tis far more than any mere female would have done,” defended Judith. Bridgett smiled back weakly while continuing with her supper. However, she did notice that the food would probably benefit from some of her own personal herbs to spice up the flavor. Mayhap she could approach the cook and discuss some new recipes. Nibbling at her food, she felt it was the perfect opportunity to gaze at Lord Wraith without being scrutinized herself. Turning her gaze in his direction, she allowed her eyes to rake over his entire being. Again, she noticed that he was truly a very attractive man when he was not

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scowling ferociously. She envisioned him gazing at her with a relaxed expression on his face and a tingle of excitement shot through her body as she contemplated the notion that he could some day look upon her with affection as his face reflected feelings other than pain, hurt, and hatred. Munching on the fresh vegetables and crusty bread, her eyes caught sight of the wellendowed brunette making her way to the raised dais. She meticulously stepped up onto the platform as she balanced the platter of food that she carried. Her eyes glared at Bridgett, and then she purposefully leaned over Wraith’s right shoulder, pressing her lips against his ear. Her voluptuous bosom nearly fell out of the revealing dress as she leaned her generous breasts against his upper arm, all the while whispering something very seductively into his ear. A curt shake of his head signified his complete avoidance to acknowledge her presence. Bridgett could not be certain what had been exchanged but tried to remain calm at the implications of the lustful scene. Time passed and diners began to retreat to their sleeping quarters for sleep, Bridgett implored Judith to remain at her side until Wraith had retired to his own bedchamber, alone. She could not be certain, but she had a feeling that Margarete had propositioned the virile leader to share her body for the evening. The mere thought of Wraith making love to the sensual Margarete set her teeth on edge. She did not want to envision the two of them wrapped in each other’s embrace while they kissed passionately. As the legions of men thinned out and the head of the table rose to retire, a cunning Margarete made her appearance at Wraith’s side and hooked her arm around his forearm. Wraith bade his men-at-arms a good sleep, and Margarete turned her head to give Bridgett a wicked and victorious smile. Crushed by the enormity of the implications, Bridgett turned to hide her pain and disgust. Hurrying towards the rear of the dining hall, she turned to view the final insult as Wraith and Margarete ascended the stairs together, arm in arm. Humiliation and pain warred as Bridgett raced up the stairs towards her room. Hot tears poured uncontrollably down her cheeks as she averted her face from passersby. Judith’s footsteps echoed close behind as she ran to keep up. Yet upon reaching her side, she must have realized her distress. Bridgett wept silently and wished only to reach the solitude of her bedding. Quietly, the two slipped between the sleeping females to reach their pallets. Bridgett fairly collapsed as she lay sobbing quietly while muffling her anguish amidst the blankets. Her sorrow remained as she silently cried herself to sleep.

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Chapter Five Even as Wraith and Margarete reached the heavy door leading to Wraith’s bedchamber, doubts began to plague his mind. Why he harbored any doubts was a wonder to Wraith, since all his thoughts had centered on relieving his male yearnings on any willing female. Margarete had oftentimes been his consenting bed partner, as she was to many of his men. His body was hard and ready for release, and he could not fathom why he had any contradicting feelings. He would simply strip off his clothing, have his pleasure, and command her to leave him to his blissful sleep. However, as she began to disrobe before him, his eyes conjured up the illusion of Bridgett’s luscious body emerging from the shimmering pond. His thoughts mysteriously pictured Bridgett’s full breasts, flat stomach, and aroused nipples as she exited the chilly waters. His breathing quickened and his heart thundered in his chest as he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind. Returning to the present, he noticed an advancing Margarete and his annoyance surfaced, making him roar. “Leave me at once.” His commanding voice left no room for misinterpretation. “But, milord, I thought you would share your bed with me after such a long abstinence?” She cried in frustration. “Leave” he repeated. “I have no further need of you.” His tone was cold and insensitive. Margarete snatched up her clothing by the armful, not even bothering to cover herself as she rushed out of the door with a resounding bang. Wraith was not even sure what had transpired. He only knew that Margarete’s presence in his room had caused him more discomfort than pleasure. Normally, when he returned from a sojourn, he would find himself in need of immediate release with a desirous female. This time had proven to be different for some strange reason, and he had been disinclined to commit too much precious time mulling over the cause. Margarete was a comely wench with an attractive body that would please any man. She was slightly taller than most of the castle women, making her a good match for his considerable size. Her long, brown hair and pretty, blue eyes were a great attraction for the greedy and oversexed males of the castle. However, for some unexplainable reason, she had lost her appeal to him and he avoided the one, painfully obvious reason. No matter how he endeavored to reason it out, it always returned to the one curvaceous female who had dominated his brain since he first laid eyes upon her. Maybe if he forced himself on her and satisfied his lust, the fascination would end. This impulsive reaction sickened him, and he dismissed the notion with quick expediency. He would let no harm befall Bridgett, either by his hands or anyone else’s. He had never had to force himself on any female, for he was a competent lover, albeit cold in the aftermath. Women enjoyed his lovemaking because he had a ravenous appetite for the female body, making him savor his time with each one. He never displayed rough coupling despite his superior size. Therefore, the females braved his cold countenance, scarred face, and quick dismissal, for their time in his bed. His honed body seemed only to add to his already inexhaustible virility and seemingly never-ending arousal. Yet he seemed to desire only one woman at this time, Bridgett.

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He was confused, for since his arrival back at Exeter, his disinterest in every voluptuous beauty he encountered had given him cause for worry. Perhaps Lothar’s beating had a more devastating effect on him than he previously thought. Maybe he was just getting old and tired, although the notion made him livid, because at twenty and nine he was still in the prime of his life. Stripping out of his clothing, he turned towards his comfortably large bed and lay on his back with his arms folded, supporting his head. He needed to sort through his feelings and reason this situation out until a logical answer surfaced. What was it about this female that had him experiencing such different feelings? Wraith had never shown any real emotions to anyone. He never wanted to experience emotions at all. Therefore, he had no real basis for comparison in this situation. The closest he had come to true feelings was the filial affection he felt for Sir Richard de Marten, the man who had taken him under his wing after the abandonment by his natural father. He had shown no interest in his own son’s progress and had never returned to visit Wraith during his years of training with Sir de Marten. There was his brotherly love for Perrin, who had grown from boyhood to accomplished soldier with him throughout the years. Wraith released a huge sigh of disgust, sleep was bound to be hard-fought this evening. Rising he crossed the room to a vessel of wine. Pouring himself a goblet of the fine liquid, he settled in a wooden chair beside his window and sipped thoughtfully. The night was crisp and clear, the dark sky abundant with twinkling stars. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he gazed up at the dazzling display of stars and silently wondered if this nighttime spectacle was a rarity or if he had just never taken the time to notice. Many things were gaining his attention, which had previously gone unnoticed. Were they the result of his recent ordeal or had the intriguing female that accompanied him home been responsible for his new sensitivities? He was becoming aware of subtle changes within his own body whenever he was in her company. He did not even have to see her to know instinctively that she was nearby. It was as if an invisible bond had formed between them since she had come to his rescue. He was hard-pressed to admit that another person had been responsible for saving his life, let alone a female. She had saved him that day in the dungeon, and he, in turn, had kept her warm and safe from harm. His mind searched for a logical reason why she would risk her own life to save his. Her loathsome brother had a reputation as a cruel and merciless man, and Wraith was determined to save Bridgett from him. Then there was his own curious physical reaction to the gorgeous woman which baffled him even further. Whenever he merely sensed her presence, his chest would tingle and his pulse would quicken. This normally occurred only as he prepared to do battle or perform a demanding physical activity. At the mere notion of her attendance, a fine sweat would moisten his skin and his hands would become clammy. His stomach muscles would tense, his chausses would become snug, and that odd sensation in his chest would appear. He had thought that perhaps he was becoming ill. It would be entirely possible that Lothar’s dungeon had unleashed some strange malady during his stay. However, this affliction only occurred in the presence of Bridgett and lessened immediately upon her departure. As curious as he was about Bridgett, he needed to maintain an aloof demeanor while he cautiously observed her. For the time being, he would attempt to get some sleep and ponder the situation tomorrow. There had to be a plausible reason for this strange change in him, tomorrow

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he would sort it all out. On the morrow, he and Perrin would have an in-depth talk about Bridgett and her life with Lothar. **** Bridgett was at a loss to explain what was happening to her. She only knew that seeing Margarete together with Wraith, going up to his bedchamber, was causing her tremendous pain. She knew she had great respect for him as a man, his bravery on the battlefield, his accomplishments at tournaments, and his reputation for being an honorable man. In addition to this was his loyalty to his people, a feeling that was evident on the day of their return to the castle. They had turned out in great numbers to wave, cheer, and applaud his return. Would they have been so jubilant if he was vindictive and cruel? She could not forget his bravery and honesty as he entered Conwy Castle’s gates unarmed, unhelmed, and utterly alone. Her perfect opportunity for escape from her brother had presented itself when Lord Wraith had ridden through the gates of Hell and into the arms of her brother. She made her decision instantly to release the famed warrior and simultaneously free herself from the bonds of a life that would be filled with misery and unhappiness for her. Wraith had been her knight in shining armor, unbeknownst to him, when he first appeared in the lower bailey of Castle Conwy. She knew immediately that she would have to devise a plan to free him and herself. She did not know, however, that her brother would subject the mighty leader to such pain and suffering. The possibility of Wraith’s impending death had prompted her to orchestrate their escape as quickly as possible. Her respect, and pity, had done nothing but grow from the moment she glanced at his tortured body hanging in the dungeon. However, Bridgett was a romantic at heart and a realist of thought, and she truly believed she could marry for love and not for money. All she needed was the perfect candidate for this difficult assignment. At her first sighting of Wraith prancing proudly astride his destrier through her brother’s territory, alone, she had known her answer had arrived. Aside from all this, were the new sensations she got whenever she was in his presence. Every time she was in the same room with him, he seemed to fill the room with his very existence. His larger-than-life physique and persona dominated everyone’s attention, and his omnipresence permeated every inch of the castle even when he was not in sight. In addition to all of this was the fact that she was undoubtedly very physically attracted to him. She melted whenever his eyes grazed over her, and she would feel as though he had virtually touched every part of her body with his hands. She longed to be in his embrace again, as they had done on their journey to Exeter. To again feel his powerful arms encasing her tightly against his sinewy chest would be divine heaven. She longed to discover the feeling of his lips pressed against hers, a more thorough kiss than the light touch at Conwy. She dreamed of the feeling of his rock-hard body pressed intimately against her willing one. She had never had the desire to lose her virtue to anyone before, but she would happily go to his bed and relinquish her body to his desires. Nevertheless, she did not know how he felt about her. He obviously cared little, else he would not be bedding Margarete this very eve. Mayhap he was really just like every other male, rutting like a stag in heat with any willing female that would part her thighs. Men were emotionless creatures whose baser instincts led them to copulate without sentiment and discard their partner as easily as the daily trash. Up until tonight, she had prayed that Lord Wraith was different from all other men. Mayhap she was wrong. Even with her emotions in a jumble, Bridgett knew she could not shrink away from her enduring feelings for this man. She would devise a plan to attract his attention and keep him

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enthralled. She had brought a variety of herbs along with her, mostly for medicinal purposes. However, she would make the acquaintance of the castle cook on the morrow to offer her expertise in flavorings. Mayhap Wraith was unaware of her attraction to him. She would make this known through her constant pervasion of his space. She would make certain that she looked stunning on a daily basis and she would exude sensuality whenever she smiled at him. She already knew that he was somewhat taken with her from their encounter at the pond. He had stood and stared at her unashamedly while she rose up out of the water in her naked splendor. The hungry look in his beautiful green eyes had told her that fires raged beneath the surface of his icy façade. Feeling more in control than she had in a long time, Bridgett closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, confident that she had fashioned a foolproof plan to snare the indifferent man

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Chapter Six Lothar paced before the immense fireplace, all the while muttering under his breath and peppering his ranting with expletives. “How could that little bitch have gotten him out of Conwy without anyone seeing them?” His anger caused spittle to fly from his mouth with great velocity. “The man was half dead, not to mention the fact that he outweighs her by more than twice as much. She drugged the two guards, for they have sworn that she brought them a wine skin just prior to their escape.” He continued to pace before the blazing fire as his fists clenched and unclenched in quick succession. His features twisted with his rising anger, his blond head titling downward as his tall, stately frame continued to pace relentlessly before the crackling hearth. “How ‘tis it that one scrawny female and one half-dead man made it through the entire castle, to the stables, mounted his destrier, and stole away without one single witness?” His screaming had reached a painful noise level, as he suddenly stopped and turned towards Sir Michel, apparently looking for an explanation. Sir Michel’s mouth dropped open, only to close again as his brows rose in tandem. The mystery had been as baffling to him as it had been to everyone else in the castle. Five whole days had passed and they were no closer to finding the answer than they had been the morning following the discovery. He simply could not comment on a fact of which he had no knowledge. Lothar knew, full well, that his sister was thoroughly sickened at the prospect of being betrothed again. Moreover, he had announced to all of British nobility that Bridgett was to be betrothed to the man who offered the greatest riches and land acquisition. In tiny script, hardly fit for human sight, he had penned a clause stating that upon the death of the spouse, he would immediately acquire all land holdings and monies. Bridgett would be, once again, under the auspices of his controlling ways. For no young, single, female could rule and manage a vast estate the size of which she would acquire through these arranged marriages. Lothar also knew that one final stipulation had apparently driven Bridgett to rebellion, he had intentionally searched for, and interviewed the most elderly applicants available. This part of the negotiation obviously sickened Bridgett beyond reason, and she had openly vowed to escape. Lothar meant to accept the offer of the most feeble and decrepit male that presented himself for the marriage proposal. This would ensure that the wait would be minimal and the gains plenty, since he fully expected the groom to pass soon after the marriage vows were spoken. On the oft chance that the sickly applicant did not expire quickly enough, Michael believed that Lothar was fully prepared to hasten along the process by unnatural means. Yet, Lothar’s dastardly scheme had been foiled repeatedly. The applicants were so old and sickly, none of them ever made it to the matrimonial vows. This left him frustrated and angry and he had been on the verge of betrothing Bridgett to a particularly cruel man of a slightly younger age when she had escaped with Lord Wraith. Lothar turned to pin Sir Michel with an intense stare as he waited for the unanswerable solution to a problem that had probably plagued him since the wee hours of the morning and sent him into a rage. Sir Michael was Lothar’s trusted commander-at-arms and was often turned to

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for the resolve of difficult situations. His trust for him had grown with every passing year since he had first appeared before Lothar some ten years earlier. The timing could not have been more advantageous for both parties, since Lothar and Bridgett’s parents had perished in a rather unexpected manner. The young couple had gone on a ride through the lush countryside to survey their vast properties and enjoy the glorious afternoon sunshine. They were often in one another’s company as they shared the responsibilities of running the manors and holdings under their domain. On this particular day, they had ridden out in the direction of the kingdom of Gwynedd, a northern holding of which they were particularly proud. They had not returned even after many hours since their departure. Eventually a garrison of knights searched and found their bodies stabbed repeatedly, their valuables untouched, except for one irreplaceable medallion. The killing had been ruled a robbery. Yet, Michael had remembered that this one piece of jewelry had upset Bridgett immensely, for it remained the only family heirloom owned by their father. The large Amethyst medallion in the shape of a lion’s head had hung from a thickly corded, gold necklace. The piece represented the family heraldry and was to have been passed to the next de Griffyth heir. Suddenly spinning away from him, Lothar barked his orders. “I can not fathom what kind of a bargain was struck between my sister and that devil’s advocate. Mayhap she truly believes she will be safer with Satan’s spawn than with me, so be it! We will attack immediately!” His pacing resumed with his escalating agitation. “They will perish together if that is their wish. Then I will take over his properties as my own! We will kill all who live within those walls!” **** Dawn broke as the sentries paced along the walls of Castle Exeter. Peering through the crenels, they scanned the vast expanse of meadow. They kept vigil even though the land remained shrouded in partial darkness, with only a few slender shards of light making their way through the thick forest. Wraith walked up the stone steps and stood at the top of the curtain wall, scrutinizing the dim landscape with his men. Suddenly, a solitary soldier pointed towards the forest and stared. “See you naught a light in yonder forest?” The guard stared as he pointed statue-like at the gloomy, obscure woodland. Wraith moved to stand by his man as he squinted his eyes, his attention heightening and his pulse quickening. He had an ominous foreboding that his worst fears were about to come to life. Suddenly, he caught sight of a lone torch, moving to the edge of the forest. Then, several more became visible as they joined an ever-growing line of flickering flames. Wraith’s guards moved to the crenellated wall to observe the curious event, silently huddling at the openings. Then, even as the shadowy darkness clouded the meadow, huge assault towers began to creep slowly from the cover of the forest onto the meadow’s edge. More men poured slowly from the woods and began a methodical march in formation towards the castle wall. Intermittent glints upon metal illuminated the men’s armor as it began to catch the filtering rays of the rising sun. “The bastard has come.” Wraith’s voice was low and controlled. His hand automatically grasped the hilt of his onyx-handled sword and his senses went into overdrive from his battle training. His heart thundered in his chest and he could feel the blood surging through his veins.

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“Dermot, make haste and alert the troops to prepare for battle. Make sure the women and children are moved to the safety of the castle. And warn the bowmen to bring all the arrows they possess, they will need every one of them.” He had not taken his eyes from the advancing troops as he calmly issued his orders. “Perrin, take some men and begin to boil oil in the cauldrons. We will have a surprise waiting for Lothar if he thinks to gain easy access to this castle.” It had been a sennight since they had ridden from Conwy and he was not altogether shocked to see Lothar’s army. He had hoped that Lothar would let things go and not pursue them. Yet, he also knew Lothar’s fierce pride and uncontrollable temper and knew the peace was short-lived. He wondered also how the king would feel about one of his own attempting to kill another of his favored knights, yet again. Wraith would have no reservations about telling him, once he had gotten out of this predicament. As he watched the masses of soldiers moving into the meadow, he could not begin to estimate how many men Lothar brought with him, for they continued to emerge from the forest in solid waves. He took solace in the fact that even an army with a formidable array of siege machines and missile weapons would have difficulty breaking into Exeter with its great height and imposing moat. Groups of men and horses struggled to move the towers towards the castle, as even more pushed numerous trebuchets, ballistas, and battering rams. The rams would be ineffective unless Lothar constructed a long enough ramp, since the drawbridge was the only access to the castle over the deep moat surrounding the fortress. Wraith stared out over the encroaching hordes, and heard many booted feet and clanging weaponry as his own men ran up the stairs to take their places on the curtain wall. Archers lined up and readied their bows, emptying their quivers. Smoke began to rise from the boiling oil in the cauldrons. The stench of death would soon enough replace the odor of the oil. Determined to make an early stand, Wraith waited until the line of knights had reached mid-meadow before he turned to observe his own men with arrows notched, bows raised, waiting for his command. His roar signaled a release of the first deadly barrage of arrows. “Fire!” Countless bows plunked as skilled fingers released a rain of arrows upon the heads of Lothar’s men. Instantly a wall of shields deflected a large number of the arrows, keeping many of his men safe. Yet distant screams and falling bodies told Wraith that many of the arrows had hit their mark. Again, the longbows were loaded, his men raising their weapons and waiting patiently for his command. His roar again signaled a second deadly surge of arrows that sliced through the air. Again, shields raised; again, screams punctuated the air as more bodies fell. The towers crept closer now and Wraith could almost make out the features of the men who clung to the looming apparatus’. Looking below, he could see Lothar’s archers beginning to take aim while they prepared their own deadly retaliation. “Shields ready, crossbows in place, move the oil to the edge, men.” He strove to maintain a steady, controlled tone to his booming voice as he issued commands to his troops. He knew he needed to demolish every layer of Lothar’s forces if they were to stand a chance at victory. Looking again at the towers, he noticed the clinging men begin to take aim with their own weapons. An element of surprise would squelch their attack, he quickly decided. “Crossbows, fire!” Thousands of arrows hissed through the air as men fell from the towers and took cover on the ground. Guttural screams pierced the air and Wraith gained renewed hope that they could defeat this foe if they remained relentless.

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Looking below, Wraith could see scaling ladders moving into place. The unwieldy structures were extremely long in order to breech the moat yet reach the height of the tops of the wall. “Oil ready, men. Pots atop the crenels and wait for my order.” As the ladders stretched across the moat to bang against the wall, men began to climb. “Now!” Unmercifully, huge pots of boiling oil dumped down upon the men on the ladders, scalding them instantly. Bloodcurdling screams tore through the air as bodies plunged into the moat. The process continued while the crossbows kept the towers at bay. A hail of arrows suddenly flew over the top of the wall and showered Wraith’s troops with a piercing counterattack. Having managed to somehow avoid injury, Wraith glanced about to see the man on his right with an arrow imbedded in his neck. Falling to his knees, he bled heavily. Another fell to the ground, dead, an arrow protruding from his heart. Men dropped all around him. Swiping sweat from his brow, Wraith knew the only chance they stood of defeating Lothar was to strike quickly, repeatedly. Suddenly, he caught sight of monstrous trebuchets, or catapults, crawling into position. He knew the walls of Exeter were solid and thick, laid in even courses locked into a rubble core. He was confident they could withstand any battering that Lothar attempted. Yet, the mighty catapults and huge boulders hurling at the castle would be the ultimate test of strength. For if it could withstand this last attack, they would have a distinct advantage in this battle. Lothar could not tunnel under the walls, because of the depth of the moat that surrounded the entire castle. Wraith ran along the top of the wall until he stood in the direct line of fire of the trebuchet. He watched Lothar’s men struggling with the gigantic rock as they dumped it into the sling. A rope was sliced, releasing the deadly object. Soaring through the air, the boulder launched high in the air and fell just short of the wall, plunging violently into the moat with a huge splash. Wraith heaved a sigh of relief that was short-lived as he witnessed the release of the second stone. It arched in slow ascent, and then descended with great velocity directly for the wall. Wraith’s eyes followed the path of the object until it fell below his sight, hitting with a tremendous crash. The wall shook and dust rose, yet it did not crumble. Gazing out across the landscape, he saw a few more of the war machines being hauled into place and loaded with the deadly ammunition. Huge boulders that weighed more than a man were about to be launched at his castle wall. He watched, powerless to do anything except pray. As the second device released the gigantic item, he watched it sail through the air as far as he could until it too hit the wall. Again, a tremendous crash resounded, but the wall appeared to remain intact. Running along the wall, Wraith stopped to view the lethal machines attempt to do their worst. Yet, as before, shaking ensued and nothing happened. Inhaling a shaky breath, he ran back to the point where the troops had first entered the field. Suddenly, he spied a blond head and watched as the man screamed orders to his men. Lothar was with his men and seemed to be gesturing wildly as he directed them further. “The grappling hooks, men, follow me.” Wraith did not hesitate to proceed with his next maneuver. Taking one of the hooks, he swung it around over his head until it picked up speed. Then with great precision, he released it towards one of the towers. When it hit its target, he tugged on it to make sure of its anchor. Placing both hands upon the rope, he planted one booted foot against the wall and proceeded to pull with all his might. Suddenly soldiers were running from every direction to grasp the rope behind him. He kept his eyes on the tower as it slowly

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began to list to one side. Then with rapidly accelerating speed, it was toppling toward earth. A loud eerie creak accompanied its decent, men screamed and jumped from the falling behemoth. “Empty your quivers, men.” His command was barely heard above the disarray happening below. Archers did not wait for a signal now. They fired indiscriminately at their enemy with unyielding severity. Arrows continued to shower the troops below, even though they continued to come. Suddenly, Wraith saw from the corner of his eye, a leg swing over the top of the wall. Several more men scampered over the wall after the first. Turning his head, he noticed another man easing himself over the wall. “To battle men, they are invading!” Wraith’s roar alerted his men as they ran from every direction and entered the fray with hoarse yells and the clash of steel. Hideous screams ensued as arms were severed and torsos pierced. Wraith swung his huge sword in a viscous arc as he took a man’s head cleanly off his shoulders. He spun around quickly to confront another attacker and thrust his weapon directly into the man’s chest just before being impaled himself. Wrenching his sword free, he turned to hammer more blows upon unsuspecting men. Blood splattered his face and sprayed over his breastplate and chain mail. Wraith could not distinguish which were the screams of his own men, and which Lothar’s. Wraith had no time to see how his men fared, savagely swinging his sword in a deadly path to cleave skulls and sever more limbs. All around him, men screamed, weapons clanged, and blood sprayed freely. He forged forward, mowing down all who challenged him. He continued his deadly path until the standing bodies became few, and unmoving bodies lay sprawled everywhere. Eventually, the sounds quieted and bodies piled high. Only a few warriors heaved as they swung tiredly at their opponents. The surcoats of his own men lay alternately with those of Lothar as the bodies of the dead rested. He strode over to finish off the last of the soldiers as he thrust his sword into them. Hanging his head, his sword arm fell to his side in exhaustion. He breathed deeply, even though the air was thick with the odors of blood and burning flesh. Wraith slowly walked to the wall to scan the carnage below. Distant yelling came from various areas of the meadow. Dead soldiers floated in the moat and lay strewn across the field. Smoke and dust rose as scattered fires burned. Wraith stood, surveying the destruction of Lothar’s army. He felt Perrin come to his side, as he too glanced over the massacre. “You have defeated Lothar, milord.” Wraith remained silent, absorbing the butchery they had been forced to incur. “He will be back, I am sure of that. I know naught whether ‘tis Bridgett or me he comes after, but ‘tis certain he will come again.” Turning on his heel, he walked along the wall.

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Chapter Seven Violent shaking woke Bridgett from a sound sleep with a start. Sitting up quickly, she glanced around the room looking for Judith. The room was empty, since all of the women had left to perform their daily chores. Rubbing her eyes with her fists, she thought she had had a bad dream and nothing more. Slivers of bright sunlight spread throughout the room in a random pattern, as they found their way through the crevices of the worn coverings upon the windows. Bridgett moved to the edge of her pallet and combed her hair as she prepared to make a braid, when suddenly the entire castle seemed to tremble. The very earth beneath the building seemed to quake as a muted crashing sound reverberated in her ears. Jumping to her feet in alarm, she threw her bliaut over the kirtle she had slept in and raced towards the door. Slamming it open, she picked up her skirts as she ran down the halls and down the stairs. As she descended, she could see a bustle of activity in the great hall that was dizzying and Bridgett stopped before reaching the bottom to stare in wonder at the horrors displayed. Bloodied and injured men were carried in and placed upon every available surface. Women cried as they raced around the room in a panic. Wailing from the wounded rose above the noise of the mayhem taking place. Bridgett’s hand flew to her mouth as she attempted to figure out what was happening. Suddenly, she spotted Perrin carrying the legs of a bloodied man they struggled to move through the hall. Coming down the steps, she dodged through the crowded area and followed him. Standing by his side, she attempted to speak though her voice cracked with emotion. “Perrin, for the love of God, what has happened? And where is Lord Wraith?” She could not conceal her concern for the lord of the castle as she braced herself for horrible news. Perrin turned his head slowly as his eyes met hers, the lines on his handsome young face showing his distress. Bridgett, thinking the worst, gasped in horror and gripped his sleeve. “Nay, milady, Lord Wraith lives. He is with the wounded upon the castle wall.” Her shaky breath exhaled and she turned to leave. “Nay, do not go, milady, you would be better served helping with the wounded. You shall see soon enough that he survived.” She stopped instantly to return to his side. “Very well, Perrin. I shall help with the wounded if you are certain he lives. I have naught enough herbs to service this many men, what ‘tis it I can help with?” Perrin crooked his finger, beckoning her to follow. “I shall take you to the apothecary, milady. The old woman who used to administer herbs has died, leaving the room untouched.” Hurrying towards the stairs, they quickly made their way down halls until they came to a tiny door with rusting hardware. Throwing open the door, Perrin stood to one side as Bridgett entered the room. “Take whatever you need, milady. Most of us have no idea what these plants are. You are welcome to take all that you want. I must return downstairs, there are many injured that still require attention.” Disappearing from sight, she heard his boots receding as he ran down the hall. Walking briskly around the room, her head tilted back as she surveyed shelves lined to the ceiling with jars. Herbs hung upside down from the rafters as well. A large wooden

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worktable sat in the center of the room, most of its surface laden with jars also. She began to read the markings upon the containers, mentally listing the most vital herbs needed. She could return to gather more when she had assessed the degree and manner of injuries to be dealt with. She found a large jar labeled with a remedy she could not do without, Yarrow, an herb used for healing wounds and preventing infections. It had worked quite well on Lord Wraith’s life-threatening wounds, and she was never without the plant in her pouch. She found a burlap bag and set about loading it with the precious concoctions. Alder, Arnica, Comfrey, Daftodi, Fig, Gentian, Larch, Marigold, Pasque Flower, and Henbane for extreme circumstances, she stuffed each into the bag. Tossing it over her shoulder, she marched back towards the stairs and descended once again into the miserable scene. Gazing around, she noticed a young soldier bleeding profusely from a shoulder wound. Hurrying towards him, she placed the bag upon the floor and touched his injury. His eyes flew open as he stared at her with bewilderment. “I am Lady Bridgett and I have come to help you.” He nodded slowly, closing his eyes. She went to work cleaning the wound and smearing it with Yarrow and Arnica. When she had finished wrapping the wound, she stood and looked for another in need. Not far away, on a pallet, lay a young man with a leg almost severed. She knelt beside him and spoke softly to him. His face contorted with agony and shock, Bridgett was unsure whether she was already too late. His features relaxed as soon as she spoke to him. “I am Lady Bridgett. I have a remedy to soothe your pain. Then I will see if I can do something about your leg.” Groping through the bag, she retrieved the Henbane. The dangerous medication was only used for amputations and extreme pain, and usually produced hallucinations in small doses, death in larger ones. However, Bridgett had no concern for the man’s state of mind, if he lived at all. She quickly cleaned the wound and applied a generous amount to the affected leg, being careful not to touch the ointment herself. As the man’s face eased into blissful repose and he appeared to slip into a deep sleep, she retrieved a needle and thread from her pouch. Carefully, she closed the grotesque wound, taking her time to do a proper job. When she was through, she sat back on her heels and wiped her brow. She worked this way for hours, until the light in the room had changed completely and candles brightened the darkening hall. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the main door open and heads turning. There on the entrance steps stood Wraith, his powerful frame erect, his body parts intact. Covered with old, drying blood from his face to his boots, he maintained his authoritative air. Gasping loudly, Bridgett jumped to her feet and sprinted towards him. As she ran up the steps, she flung herself at his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Are you well, Lord Wraith? I feared the worst, milord.” Lifting her head from his chest, she looked up into his face. His head tilted down and he met her gaze with a cold, unreadable stare. “I am unhurt, although I cannot say the same for my men.” His voice was deep and calm as he stood with his arms at his sides. Slowly, Bridgett moved back, removing her arms from around him. She dropped her gaze from his to look upon his body. “There is so much blood, milord, ‘tis any of it yours?” Her eyes moved up again to meet his gaze. “Nay, I am sorry to say, ‘tis not. If you will excuse me, milady, I need to check on my knights.” Sidestepping her, he walked down the steps leaving her alone. She turned to watch him move to some of the more seriously injured, where he knelt beside them and spoke softly.

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Only then did she realize the room had become silent. All eyes had witnessed her obscene display of concern for his lordship. Dipping her head, she went down the steps and picked up her herb bag. She quickly found another of the wounded needing her assistance. Kneeling beside him, she began the ritual of cleaning, soothing, and wrapping with cloth. More hours passed and the room had finally become pleasantly quiet. Bridgett suddenly became aware that her back, knees, and arms ached. She had been hunched over bleeding men for hours on end, and she now attempted to stand. As she straightened up, she noticed Wraith across the room, quietly discussing something with Perrin. Walking towards him, their eyes met yet again. He stopped talking and his arms unfolded from across his chest. He had washed the blood from his face, yet his tunic remained stained with the blood of his men. Moistening her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she continued to stare up as she approached him. Her nipples began to harden and her breasts rose and fell with each step closer. Perrin moved away suddenly, as if sensing something private, and headed out of the room. Wraith let his gaze slide down to stare blatantly at her lips. Realizing that he stared at her mouth, he raised his eyes until they locked with hers. “Perrin tells me you have saved many of my men this day.” His green eyes darkened as he stared down into hers, leaving her speechless. “’Twas the least I could do, milord. I have a special gift with herbs and wished to help.” Goosebumps covered her arms and legs as she stood staring up at him. Her nipples hardened to tiny pebbles and she wondered if he could see them through her bliaut. “I am most appreciative,” he murmured softly. Her heart skipped a beat and her breasts tingled at the rich timbre of his voice. “Milord, I beg permission to inspect your back once again.” One black brow arched with inquisitiveness as he pinned her with an accessing look. “There is no need for such attentiveness, milady. My back is healing, and besides, you’ve much greater injuries to look after right now.” Stepping closer, she placed one hand upon his chest and stared up. “Tis important to me, milord, allow me to put my mind at ease that you are alright.” Nodding, he turned and led her up the stairs to an unknown destination. The excitement of being alone with him made her tremble. She followed him up another set of winding stairs that led to his private quarters. Opening a door, he stood to one side, allowing her to enter. The private tower room was his solar, now bathed in the rich hues of sunset. Rolled parchments lined his desk, and leather bound books graced the shelves. After closing the door, Wraith walked over to a small stool and before sitting, pulled his tunic over his head. His muscles bunched and flexed as he discarded the garment and stretched leisurely. Clad only in mail leggings and leather boots, his half-naked body caused Bridgett to gasp lightly. Bare-chested, his arms at his sides, he was a vision of male perfection. His muscles bulged and his green gaze pinned her as she watched his powerful chest rise and fall with each breath. Slowly, he turned and sat upon the stool. With caution, Bridgett walked around to his back and gently touched his wounds. “They look fine, milord, you are a quick healer.” Opening the clay jar, she dipped her fingers into the salve and scooped out a generous portion. Very softly, she applied the cream to the healing scars in a tender manner. She had fully intended to inspect the damage done by her brother, but found herself instead ogling his beautiful body. As she sensuously swirled the salve upon the scars with feather light touches, she discovered his skin to be velvety soft, under which

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rippled massive amounts of killer muscle. Her fingers toyed with the striations and deep grooves created by his individual muscles. She continued to caress his back and began to massage his shoulders and arms. His head dropped forward while a deep rumble came from his chest. Finally finishing, she came around to stand in front of the seated warrior. His feet remained planted upon the floor, his hands upon his thighs. He lifted his head and stared back with a different look in his eye than she had seen before. Gathering up her courage, she moved to stand between his legs until their faces were inches apart. Their gazes locked, yet he kept his hands on his legs. Tenderly Bridgett placed her hands on either side of his jaw and stared deeply into his eyes. With her left thumb, she traced the scar that marred his right cheek, stroking it lovingly. Her eyes studied his face with slow appreciation. His expression had relaxed considerably and she could see the brilliant color of his eyes, since his brows had moved from a position of tension. “How did you come by this scar, milord?” Her whisper was seductive and teasing. His eyes studied her features as he answered. “’Tis of no consequence, lack of concentration by a stupid youth.” His expression was one of contentment at this point. “Scars are marks of valor for warriors like you, Lord Wraith,” she whispered again. “Marks of valor, is that how you females see them? Interesting.” His eyes were bright with mischief, yet his body remained rigid and expectant. “Aye, milord, you should be proud to wear them.” Her heart was racing and thumping in her chest, her nipples pointing, wetness permeated her nether area. Staring deeply, she held his face tenderly as she angled her head, bringing her lips to his and kissing him sensuously. Snapping his head back, a look of shock instantly registering on his face, he immediately rose to tower over her. His breathing grew ragged, lips parted in bewilderment, his eyes pinned her with an intense emotion that Bridgett could not seem to identify. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against his chest, yet he did not kiss her. She could feel his hot breath fanning her face as he panted through his mouth. Bridgett wanted him, more than anything else in the world. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her passionately, wildly, with no regard for what came next. Instead, he simply stood glaring down into her face, a perplexed expression etching his face. His green eyes gleamed with determination, yet something still held him back. Finally, releasing her, he bent to retrieve his tunic and headed for the door. His huge sword swung about with his jerky movements and clanged against the doorframe as he exited. Disappointment rampaged through Bridgett as she watched him leave without saying a word. She wished he had taken her, here now in this room. For not only would Lothar’s plans be ruined forever, she would have the man of her dreams. She was curious yet respectful for the enormous amount of self-control Wraith exhibited. Then again, mayhap he was not attracted to her the way she was attracted to him. How could she have misread his intentions, mannerisms, eye contact? She melted whenever their eyes met, and she became a puddle of liquid when he was near. She decided she would fight for his attentions, for her feelings for him were just too strong. She would lure him into a web of seduction with sumptuous meals and lustful smiles. This was one battle she meant to win. **** Wraith stomped down the stairs the next morning with the same disgruntled attitude as was there the night before. He had not slept a wink and his disposition had done nothing but

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grow more sour with every passing minute. His sword sheath clanged against the wall on its noisy journey down the stairwell. All eyes turned in his direction from the dining hall as the rampaging man mumbled and crashed his way through the main meeting room towards the front entranceway. His no doubt murderous look kept all in residence away as he stormed through the castle. Slamming the huge front door against the interior wall, he continued out into the bright light of the day. Why was he not rejoicing his victory over Lothar yesterday? A great number of his men were alive. Could he not feel some jubilation over that fact? Apparently not, since his mind could do nothing but contemplate the occurrences of the prior eve. Occurrences that left him analyzing his jumbled emotions regarding the beautiful maiden who had dared to kiss him without his permission. Not that he did not enjoy her sweet, tender lips upon his, but she needed to be kissed by a man worthy of her attentions. She deserved more than he could offer. She was a highly desirable female, pure perfection as a woman. He had had plenty of time to inspect her features as she held his face captive between her hands. Her large, expressive blue eyes and the long, veil-like lashes accentuated her creamy skin, unblemished by even a single freckle. Her small, straight nose led to two luscious lips that constantly begged to be kissed. The memory of those lips at Conwy had haunted him his every waking moment. It had taken every fiber of self-control he possessed to avoid acting upon his desires to kiss her. He was enamored with her mane of golden hair, which left unrestrained hung well below her tiny waist. He had been subjected to days of its flowing torture as she let it fly about his face and chest on their ride from Conwy. Yet, the final torment had been his forbidden spying at the pond, where her full breasts, flat stomach, and shapely legs had all but driven him crazy. What he needed was a rousing fight for sport alone, nothing involving the heat of battle. He had had enough bloodshed and death yesterday to last him a lifetime. He needed to spar with a competent warrior, someone who would challenge him. As he made his way towards the upper bailey, several serfs started to wave, then thought better of it as they turned to huddle near their structures. The scowl on his face and his warrior posture were warning enough to anyone watching that he was in a foul mood this morn. His mood worsened with the nagging thought that he should marry Bridgett off to a qualified nobleman before Lothar could come to claim her. She deserved more than what Lothar did to her, and so much more than he could offer her. She deserved a man who would treat her like the lady she was, and sire many beautiful children with her. Although the thought of her marrying someone else caused his gut to clench and his teeth to grind, he suspected it was simply the idea that no one was good enough for her. She was an extraordinary woman who deserved an extraordinary man. He needed to stop delaying the inevitable and consider an eligible marriage candidate. At last he crested the small hill that brought him into the heart of the upper bailey. Several young males were ineffectually trying to best each other as they swung their blunted swords about recklessly. Still other knights stood around inspecting their weapons and conversing. “Stop this foolishness.” His booming voice caused heads to snap in his direction. All movement ceased, deadly quiet reigned, all stood staring at him. With his legs braced apart, hands on his hips, and a no doubt bloodthirsty scowl upon his face, he was the picture of a man not to be tangled with.

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“If you wish to become part of my elite fighters, you will have to take your practice much more seriously. Perrin and I will demonstrate the true form to be used when trying to kill your opponent.” Perrin’s face instantly mirrored his sentiments at having to spar with his master when he was in one of his moods. Wraith gazed at Perrin’s cold expression and wondered what was going through his mind. Nonchalantly, Perrin sauntered to Wraith’s side, inclining his head he spoke softly. “’Tis this really necessary, milord? One would think you had enough combat yesterday without having to take your aggressions out on me today.” Their eyes met as Wraith could feel his nostrils begin to flare. “Whatever reason would I have for taking my aggressions out on you, Commander?” His hushed voice grated out as he gritted his teeth and frowned into Perrin’s face. “A beautiful blond reason comes to mind, Lord Wraith,” he shot back in bitter retaliation. Perrin crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side. Wraith met his stare as he struggled to maintain his anger. “Prepare your weapon, Commander.” Slowly, Perrin retreated to the other side of the gathering crowd of soldiers. He turned to collect the sword and shield from his squire. Perrin assumed a battle ready stance as he eyed Wraith. Preparing in kind, Wraith turned to receive his shield and sword from his squire. An unfamiliar face confronted him, which angered him further. “Where the hell is Walter?” The youth’s terrified eyes turned upwards as his lips quivered. “I do not know, milord.” His barely audible response was racked with violent shaking. “I will deal with him later, prepare my shield, NOW!” Wraith’s roar nearly blew the youth’s hair back. Posturing pitifully, the squire picked up the weapons and with shaking hands handed them to Wraith. After the two bowed down to receive their helms, they were ready. Finally, Wraith turned to face his opponent. Squaring off, the two imposing warriors faced each other and prepared to test their skills. Hunching lower to the ground, they lifted their shields, their swords slowly waving in a threatening manner. The two began to circle one another and as they did, dust clouds rose with the shuffling of their calculated steps. Suddenly, Perrin charged out to meet Wraith with raised sword and defense-ready shield. Wraith countered with a crushing blow to Perrin’s shield that nearly sent him to his knees. The air had hushed, except for the ring of the swords as they collided. Perrin had righted himself and circled Wraith as he watched for an opening that would allow him to attack. However, Wraith decided to counterattack as he charged towards him with his blade gleaming in the bright morning sun. As they came together, Wraith’s arm came down upon Perrin’s shield, rendering him partially off-balance. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, Perrin swung his sword towards Wraith, hoping to catch him off guard after his second attack. However, Wraith’s body was pumped and ready for the attack as he easily deflected Perrin’s arcing sword. The tremendous clash that resounded throughout the bailey caused eyes to widen and gasps to escape. The crowd had thickened as word spread throughout the castle and down to the thatched homes of the serfs. Out of the corner of his eye, Wraith noticed the distinctive blond head of Bridgett as she peered between the shoulders of two overly large men. Yet he could not break his concentration else Perrin would take immediate advantage. His eyes remained focused on his opponent as the two bent at the waist in a predatory posture.

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Sunlight glinted off their shiny blades and they continued to circle one another in a stalking fashion. Perrin decided once again to become the aggressor as he charged towards Wraith and connected with his shield. Repeatedly, he bashed his sword with full force against the shield in an effort to wear Wraith down. Wraith stumbled awkwardly for a moment until he regained his balance, then countered with his own series of punishing and vicious blows. Raising his shield, Perrin literally lifted Wraith right off the ground and threw him down. Anger welled-up in Wraith as he leapt to his feet and faced his attacker. He could feel his chest heaving, his teeth clenching, and veins distending on his arms and forehead as he readied himself for the final assault. With both their sword arms poised to attack, they probably presented a picture of two colossal warriors prepared to kill. Suddenly Wraith raised his sword and attacked Perrin with great force, screaming like a possessed demon as he charged across the fighting arena. Likewise, Perrin lifted his weapon and charged. The two met, their swords clashing in a deafening clang, but their swords remained locked in an upright position. Sweat streamed from under their helms and down their necks, as they grunted and strained to overcome their opponent. Finally, like two exhausted stags with locked horns, they conceded to a tie and lowered their weapons. In an odd display of camaraderie following such a brutal fight, the two came together as they clapped each other on the back amiably. Instantly the two squires rushed forward to receive the equipment from their respective knights. Removing the stifling helm from his head, Perrin smiled at Wraith slyly. “Do you feel better, milord?” “Aye, I feel somewhat better after our sparing match,” he commented calmly, removing his helm and shaking his sweat-soaked hair. “Sparring match? You damn near killed me, milord.” His expression of distress only served to annoy Wraith. “Tell me, milord, what will it take to make you feel better?” Wraith stroked his chin as he contemplated Perrin’s question. “I am not yet certain, my friend. But when I figure it out, you will be the first to know.” Wraith turned to leave when Perrin’s words stopped him cold. “Marry her.” His words were hushed yet determined. Turning his head, Wraith pinned Perrin with an icy stare. “What did you say?” His entire body now turned to face his friend. “Marry her,” he repeated, in a tone only a man of almost equal stature could request. “’Tis nonsense, Perrin, and you know it. Your suggestion is without merit.” Seeking to avoid the discussion, Wraith had started to turn again. However, Perrin did not let his opinion go unanswered. “’Tis not nonsense, milord. You both are of noble birth, sons and daughters of the king’s knights. You are a baron, she a baron’s sister. ‘Twould be a perfect match, milord, admit it.” “This discussion is over.” Wraith pinned Perrin with what he hoped was an authoritative glare then turned and strode purposefully away. He did not wish to discuss with Perrin the object of so much of his uneasiness. He had much to ponder regarding Bridgett, and he would not involve anyone else. **** Bridgett turned to Judith as the confrontation ended between the two men and stared into her eyes. “Whatever do you think that ‘twas about?”

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“I do not know, milady,” she replied quietly. Bridgett’s head turned to follow Wraith. “I need to follow him, Judith. You may return to the castle and I will be there anon.” “Aye, milady, whatever you wish.” Bridgett watched as Judith turned away and disappeared in the crush of the crowd. She and Judith had been cleaning the dining hall when she noticed a swarm of people running out of the castle. Her first instinct was that her brother had returned with another army. Panicked, she rushed from the castle to follow the crowd to the upper bailey. As she approached, she was awestruck to witness a virtual clash of two titans. The beauty and precision which the two gigantic warriors had displayed as they challenged and collided with one another left her speechless. She had watched in horror as the lethal weapons whirled around with deadly intent. At any given moment, the combatants could have been seriously injured or killed. She had breathed a huge sigh of relief as they ended their struggle. At the conclusion of the violent collision, the two had hugged and parted, with Wraith heading towards the lower bailey. She longed to observe him in his natural surroundings as he walked among his loyal subjects, so she followed. She marveled at his tall, stately form slowly meandering through the marketplace. His long legs carried him effortlessly through the narrow streets that wound through various shops displaying their wares and services. Occasionally he would nod his head in the direction of a loyal follower as they waved and smiled a cheery greeting. His head casually turned from one side to the other as he eyed the wares, his raven-black hair casually brushing the tops of his wide shoulders. Periodically, he would pick up an item for inspection, turning it over in is hands, where he would either replace it or purchase it and place it in the satchel at his waist. Eventually, the crowds thinned, leaving the street almost barren and Bridgett worried that he would turn at any moment to find her behind him. She darted behind a vendor’s shop and peered around the corner. When she was certain he suspected nothing, she darted from one storefront to the next in a zigzag path. Lagging behind the goldsmith’s eves, she peeked around the corner to witness a most amazing sight. As Wraith casually strode with his usual stealthy gait, a small girl tottered and fell directly in his path. She could not have been more than two summers old, and she wailed loudly as she fell. Bridgett watched with inquisitiveness, for she could not have guessed what would be Wraith’s course of action. Yet as she watched, the huge warrior bent to pick up the crying baby. Standing, he seemed to cuddle the little person to his broad chest as he cooed to her. When she had calmed sufficiently, he held her away from his body and presented her with a dazzling smile. Bridgett clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sudden gasp, she could not believe her eyes. Following his form, she watched him saunter slowly to the girl’s mother and gently deposit the infant in her arms. The mother smiled and bowed to Wraith and she looked not the least bit surprised by his mannerisms. Bridgett continued to stare at the unfamiliar face as her mouth hung open in shock. Her heart thumped violently in her chest the more she stared at his handsome features. He actually resembled a very different person when he was smiling. His relaxed face finally revealed the dashing green-eyed rogue she knew he could be. She had suspected there was a compassionate, feeling man beneath the granite exterior, and she had just witnessed it. Now, if she could only get him to let down his guard and reveal himself to her.

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Chapter Eight Judith was busy arranging blankets in a neat array, when Bridgett burst into the room, causing her to start in surprise. “Hell’s fire, Lady Bridgett, what has happened?” Judith stared wide-eyed at Bridgett. “I need to converse with the castle cook, Judith.” Her sentence was breathless and she huffed from exertion as though she had run a great distance. “You ran from wherever you were to tell me that, milady?” Her fists moved to rest on her hips. Still panting, Bridgett shook her head in a negative manner. “Nay, I’ve witnessed something very amazing, but I shall tell naught until I can make it happen with more regularity.” “Very well, milady, we shall speak to Agnes then. However, be warned, milady, she doesn’t take kindly to strangers nosing around in her kitchen.” “I thought I could make a special request for his lordship.” “How very thoughtful, milady, I’m sure he will appreciate your attentions.” Judith bent over as though finishing the folding, attempting to shield her smile. Straightening, she led the way to the kitchens located near the rear of the castle keep, where smoke and steam easily vented from the kitchen area. Entering the bustling scene, Bridgett spotted a rotund woman scurrying around while intermittently slicing and preparing for the noon meal. She seemed unaware as the two girls stood observing her precision with the knife, all the while barking orders to numerous females who snapped to her direction. “Pardon me, madam,” interrupted Bridgett. “I wish only for a few moments of your precious time.” “I have no spare time right now, lass, as you can see.” Her reply was curt and she did not turn around. “I am Bridgett de Griffyth, Agnes, and I wish to discuss a very important meal with you, if I may.” Agnes stopped, whirled around displaying a somewhat bewildered, yet pleased, expression upon her face. “Aye, the beauty who saved our Lord Wraith.” Her Scottish brogue was thick and lilting. “Aye, madam.” Bridgett was not yet certain whether her heroism would gain her the woman’s cooperation or earn her a slap from the hefty woman. “We owe you a huge debt of gratitude, all of us, milady.” Agnes extended her pudgy fingers in a gesture of friendship and Bridgett gripped her hand in return, smiling. “I am most pleased to meet the creator of the wonderful cuisine that has graced the tables of this castle.” Agnes gave her look of skepticism as she continued. “I mean only to compliment your talented creations with a humble version of my own. ‘Tis my intention to thank Lord Wraith with a meal of my own creation, as my way of thanking him for saving my life.” “Hogwash, the food I serve is only palatable because the men are so ravenous.” Bridgett couldn’t help but snicker at her candidness.

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“Now, what did ye have in mind, young beauty?” Propping her ample hip against the table, she listened. “Well, I thought we might start with game birds garnished with trimmed leeks, gloves of garlic, a sprits of wine, bay leaves, salt and pepper, and a generous helping of dried sage. If ‘tis available, we could add a few rashers of bacon and a handful of mushrooms. Do you think his lordship will be pleased with the meal, Agnes?” Her enthusiasm could not be hidden as she clapped her hands together and smiled. “’Tis, without a doubt, one sure way to Lord Wraith’s heart.” Agnes’s optimism had Bridgett smiling even more. ” For dessert, mayhap we could have summer fruit, you know, raspberries, loganberries, strawberries, currants, and roasted hazelnuts in a brown sugar and honey crumble.” She smiled at Agnes while waiting for her approval. Agnes beamed back at Bridgett. “Milady, that will certainly get Lord Wraith’s attention, yet it seems ye have an awful lot of thanking to do?” “’Tis nothing more than a thanks to Lord Wraith.” She quickly tried to cover her true intentions for the meal with a perfectly plausible reason. “As I understand it, young beauty, ‘tis Lord Wraith who should be thanking you.” The woman’s mischievous grin led on that she suspected Bridgett’s plan. Mayhap she noticed the dreamy look in her eyes and the tender concern as she labored over the perfect meal for him. “And would you want to help me prepare this sumptuous meal for his lordship?” Agnes raised one brow and crossed her arms over her bosom. “Aye, Agnes, I would very much like to help with the preparation, but I had something else in mind as well. I would like to be Lord Wraith’s personal servant for the evening.” The loud gasps in the room full of females told Bridgett that this was going to be a difficult maneuver. “Nay, you are a titled lady. You should not be serving. Lord Wraith would be livid if you served him.” Agnes’s face turned red and she seemed truly distressed. “I simply must extend my fullest gratitude to Lord Wraith. It can be no other way.” Agnes looked to Judith, who fidgeted with her dress in an attempt to avoid answering. “Very well, milady, if that ‘tis what you wish, cook and serve as well. But you must suffer the consequences when his lordship loses his temper.” Bridgett was nodding and clapping before Agnes even finished. Hugging her tightly, she spun around and headed for the door. As she got to the hallway, she could hear them burst out in resounding laughter. Sneaking to the doorframe, she listened. “She’s smitten, is she not?” Agnes’s jovial laughter filled the room. “She’s fallen hard and fast for his lordship, I’ll wager.” Judith added, giggling. Apparently, her attraction to Lord Wraith was more obvious than she’d thought. “But, it appears that she does not even realize it yet herself. ’Tis about time some deserving female latched-on to that wonderful man. I do believe we may have finally found the one woman who can break through the stone encasing his heart.” Bridgett turned and hurried along the dark corridors leading to the dining area, delighting in the thought that she would be preparing and serving a very special meal to the man who had claimed her heart. He definitely deserved a more permanent relationship in his strict and regimented life. She was willing to bet that she was the right female to bring some joy and pleasure to his harsh and difficult existence.

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Breezing into the noisy dining hall, she barely noticed the malcontented Margarete lurking in the shadows. Bridgett turned just in time to see her silent curses and hateful glares. She no doubt blamed Bridgett for diverting Wraith’s attentions away from her. With arms folded over her chest, she tapped her toe in annoyance as her lips curled in revulsion. Bridgett sped by the shadowy figure, attempting to ignore the hostile presence. Walking swiftly to her usual spot, she deposited herself on a bench. Enjoying the perfect vantage point from which to stare at his lordship, she nibbled on a piece of freshly baked brown bread. Judith approached and settled down next to Bridgett. “Did you see the cursed one standing in the shadows?” Judith’s eyes narrowed as she inclined her head towards Bridgett and spoke quietly. “Aye, I saw her, Judith. What of it?” Was it the draftiness of this huge stone hall, or was the mere thought of Margarete’s presence giving Bridgett a sudden chill? “’Twould be wise of you to keep your wits about you around that one, milady. She’s a bad one, and her partner is no better.” She purposely kept her voice low as she looked around while reaching for a leg of chicken from the trencher they shared. Bridgett met her gaze. “Who is her partner, Judith?” “Walter, milady. Although, I do believe Walter has feelings for her that she has no intention of returning. She just uses him to get what she wants. And right now she wants Lord Wraith.” Bridgett stared at Judith, slave to her every word. “She’s been known to do some rather brutal things to have her way. I have a bad feeling she is planning something dastardly even now. The day Lord Wraith catches her doing something wrong, he will banish her from the castle.” “Judith, she can’t be as bad as you say, mayhap she is just curious about me? You have said she is not of the status to wed Lord Wraith, then why would she persist in trying to have him? Besides, she has nothing to fear from me, I am not his betrothed” “Even though she is not of the proper nobility to be his bride, she desires him. Apparently, his prowess in the bedchamber is as great as ‘tis on the battlefield.” Bridgett could feel her eyes widen as Judith gave her a seductively lewd smile. “Judith, you should not speak of such things.” Bridgett lowered her voice to a hush. “How do you know this to be true?” Judith giggled as she winked at Bridgett. “I have overheard a few of the women who have been with him speaking of his abilities and stamina.” Secretly Bridgett wished she could experience his abilities on her own, yet she doubted she would ever know. “The strangest thing though, Lady Bridgett, is that Walter has been missing for days and no one seems to know of his whereabouts.” Judith’s expression had changed to one of complete seriousness. “Why is that so puzzling, Judith?” “Walter is Lord Wraith’s squire and is required to be at his side a great deal of the time. I have heard that Lord Wraith is quite angry about his disappearance.” Bridgett nodded in agreement, letting her eyes wander towards the raised dais while contemplating Judith’s warnings. Wraith sat leisurely discussing topics with Perrin and his surrounding men, when suddenly, as if feeling her eyes on him, his gaze shot directly to her. Startled at being caught ogling him, she quickly averted her gaze to Judith, who had stopped talking as she realized what was going on. “’Twill be alright, Judith, you will see.”

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“For your sake, milady, I hope so.” **** The evening air was crisp and the dining hall glowed with the many torches that flickered and hissed from the holders mounted on the walls. Slowly and with deliberate calm, the legions of warriors and knights entered the hall in preparation for the evening meal. Some conversed quietly, others laughed openly while clapping each other on the back in good-natured banter. Bridgett had spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen preparing her meal for Lord Wraith and his men. She had no doubt the involved meal would grab the warrior’s attention, but she was somewhat more hesitant regarding her unusual attire. She had personally supervised the cleaning of the filthy dining hall. She and the other females had swept out the old stale rushes and replaced them with fresh, sweet ones. She also concocted a solution of lemon juice and oils for the dining table surfaces. The cobwebs had been cleared away and the tapestries taken outside and beaten. Peering around the corner from the hallway, she watched as one by one the men sniffed the air while enjoying the delectable smells emanating from the kitchen and the fresh bouquet of flowers placed on each table. Candles graced each surface, lending a softer, more ethereal atmosphere to the usually mundane dining hall. Bridgett could scarcely contain her nervousness as she waited for the arrival of his lordship and his men-at-arms. Her stomach clenched with worry and she chewed her nails in anticipation. Finally, the huge warrior made his arrival, flanked by Sir Perrin, Sir de Marten, and his high-ranking knights. As Wraith stepped up onto the raised dais, his attention caught onto the enormous bucket of fragrant flowers that dominated the high table. Without thinking, he leaned over to breathe in the sweet aroma of the beautiful arrangement. Several heads turned to witness the uncommon sight. The usually rigid man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if he were in the midst of a field of floral. When he finished sniffing, he took his place at the head of the table and began conversing with Perrin in his usual brusqueness. The time had come for her to begin the meal. Drawing a deep breath, Bridgett walked briskly towards the dais with a large vessel of wine. Stepping up, she moved toward Wraith as he spoke casually with Perrin. Slipping to his right side, she leaned over his shoulder, crushing her breasts against his upper arm and whispering into his ear. “Milord, may I serve you your wine now?” Recognizing the voice, his head snapped around until his green eyes glared into hers. His line of sight moved slowly to her exposed cleavage, then slowly back to meet her gaze. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” he rasped angrily through gritted teeth. “Serving my lord and master, Lord Wraith.” Her reply was barely audible with the dryness in her throat. “I have servants to do that, Lady Bridgett. I fail to understand why you serve me.” His annoyance and confusion were etched plainly upon his scowling face, yet he kept his voice low. “I will not embarrass you, milady, unless you do not pull up your dress.” He fairly growled his demand as he stared directly into her eyes, his nose pressed against hers. “As you wish, milord, only know that I wish to thank you for saving my life with yours and the lives of your men.” His scowl relaxed slightly and his expression changed from one of anger to one of near compassion, the understanding dawning upon him that she wished to do nothing more than thank him.

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Straightening, she poured his wine, moved to the others and returned to the kitchen. Yanking up the offending peasant dress, she vowed to ignore the crudeness of his orders. The meal proceeded without a problem, she serving the head table amidst the constant stare of the dark lord and his penetrating gaze. Intentionally she had presented him his meal with dazzling smiles and incidental touches from various parts of her body. To Bridgett’s relief, much buzz regarding the tasty fare accompanied the throng of diners. As the evening grew late and everyone retired to their beds, Bridgett scrubbed the tables and kitchen area used to prepare the meal. More than an hour passed and Bridgett turned to receive a hug from Agnes who congratulated her on a wonderful feast. Bridgett yawned, stretched, and left the dark kitchen to find her bed. Fatigue nagged at her, the day had been long and she wanted only to sleep. Quietly padding up the stone steps, she headed for her quarters within the shared female room. The stone halls were vacant and dimly lit by the few torches that sputtered and hissed with an invisible breeze. She walked along the hallways, with their voids of darkness, fathomless recesses, and the mysterious inlets of the craggy stone structure. Suddenly, without warning, she was yanked forcefully into a dark area and slammed against the hard chest of a man. A hand covered her mouth, preventing a scream. A powerful arm wound around her waist, securing her to her attacker. Fear gripped her as she attempted to yell past the occlusion to her mouth. She struggled helplessly against her captor as her feet kicked ineffectually in the air. Her breasts heaved, as panic washed over her, her muffled mewing sounds being ignored. Judith’s warnings replayed in her head a dozens times as she tried to escape. He carried her down one dim corridor, then another, before reaching a huge wooden portal. The door opened quickly and she was whirled to the center of the room. It slammed shut and a huge crossbar banged into the brace, preventing escape. With breasts heaving, she spun to face her abductor. In the shadows of the room, Wraith’s familiar hulking form loomed. His body stood rigid and his chest swelled with each convulsive breath. For a moment he stood still, arms akimbo, legs slightly spread, as he faced her. Slowly he advanced with predator-like movement. His face fell in the shadows and she could not assess his mood. She had never had any cause to fear Wraith before, yet, she had never tried his patience before either. Out of simple survival instincts, she began to back up. Keeping her eyes glued to the advancing figure, she sought to outmaneuver him. She recognized the dimly lit room to be his bedchamber. Suddenly, her heel hit the raised platform of his bed, and she fell backwards. Sprawled upon his huge bed, Wraith moved quickly to loom over her. In her movement, her hair fell from its place upon her head to fan out around her. The peasant dress slipped down to expose her shoulders and both breasts. He quickly imprisoned her hands on either side of her head as he lowered his face to within inches of hers. The muscles of his chest touched intimately upon her peaking nipples even through his tunic. Each time she gasped, her breasts and nipples pressed harder against his dominating body. Slowly, he lowered his lips until they were but a breath away from making contact. She could not focus but knew his gaze pierced her to the very core of her being. His breath was warm as he continued to hover, barely touching her lips. Languorously, he angled his head, his mouth descending to take gentle possession of hers. Bridgett melted under the weight of him and luxuriated in the contact with his body. Her mouth became soft and

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willing and she parted her lips in a blatant invitation for him to plunder her. Moaning softly, she arched her back in an attempt to make full body contact. In his heated response, Wraith threaded his fingers through hers. He deepened the kiss by thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth. Their tongues dueled in a seductive game while their bodies entwined in ecstasy. A deep, throaty moan rumbled through his chest and he pressed firmly against her willing form. Breathing raggedly through their noses, continued the erotic foreplay. Suddenly, without warning, Wraith lifted his dark head and stared pointedly. She stared back, panting breathlessly in an effort to control her raging emotions. As he started to pull away, she threw her arms around his neck, locking him in place. “Nay, milord, do not leave me,” she beseeched on a breathless whisper. “I do not deny you, Wraith. I offer you my body and my heart, milord. Take me, I am yours.” He stared deeply into her eyes with an expression of seriousness crinkling his brow. “I cannot take you, milady. I am not worthy of a woman like you, I am worthy of no woman.” His head hung dejectedly while he released a huge sigh. “You have tolerated Lothar’s choices for a husband. He has married you to old men, twice your age. You deserve a young man of adequate title and nobility to give you the children and life you deserve.” She stared up, her lips trembling. “I have been betrothed many times, milord, but never married.” His lips parted and his brows rose as he stared down into her face. “I am still a virgin, Wraith and I give myself to you, milord.” Shaking his head, he continued “All the more reason that I do naught to you, you must remain a virgin for your husband.” Despair consumed her as he lifted his body off hers and slid to the edge of the bed. Burying his face in his hands, he was the picture of man in the throes of agony and frustration. Softly she moved behind him and laid her head upon his shoulder, gripping his bicep. “I will walk you to your quarters, Bridgett,” he said quietly. Slipping off the bed, she arranged her dress and braided her hair. Together they walked down the dim corridors until they stood before her door. Opening it for her, she felt him watch her walk to her pallet before closing the door silently. For the second time since she had come to Castle Exeter, she cried herself to sleep.

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Chapter Nine Walter cautiously approached the gatehouse while keeping his eyes focused on the drawbridge. He wanted only to slip through the postern entrance as inconspicuously as possible, in an attempt to avoid Lord Wraith. Darkness shrouded the land as he made his way to the edge of the moat while waiting to gain admittance. “Guardsman, I wish to be admitted. ‘Tis Walter, squire to Lord Wraith.” He stared up at the barbican as a head popped out through the crenels above the stone edge of the gatehouse. “What manner of business has you out in the darkness of night?” returned the guardsman in a brusque tone. “Personal business for his lordship, which I am not at liberty to discuss.” He hoped his frantic nervousness did not come through in his voice. “Verra well.” The guardsman’s distant yell calmed him only marginally, for he anticipated having some difficulty upon his return to the castle. He did not, however, wish to entertain Lord Wraith’s questions of suspicion this eve. The drawbridge began to lower amidst clanging and creaking on its journey across the moat. Quietly opening the postern gate, he walked his steed through to the lower bailey. Leading the animal towards the main castle keep, he kept a watchful eye out for anyone who might expose him. He fully intended to deposit the animal in an available stall and steal away to the unmarried knight’s quarters, located one level below the main meeting hall. Leading the horse to the first available stall, he removed the saddle and left quickly. Entering the main foyer, his eyes scanned the area for any sign of activity. Closing the huge door behind him, he turned abruptly with the intent of hurrying to the lower level stairway as quickly as possible. Yet, as he spun around, a massive wall of human muscle confronted him. Tilting his head back, the murderous expression of Lord Wraith’s face stared down. His heart thundered in his chest, and sweat began to pour from his body. Panic gripped him and he was unable to move or speak. Wraith grabbed his tunic front and lifted him off the ground. “Where have you been?” His bloodthirsty tone left little room for misinterpretation. Walter’s lower jaw made an ineffectual movement, yet he was incapable of uttering any humanly recognizable sounds. “You will answer this instant, or I will personally throw you in chains.” Walter knew he needed to think quickly or suffer Lord Wraith’s seething fury. “I…I…was with a sick relative, milord.” “’Tis doubtful, since you alerted no one.” The deadly calm of his voice frightened Walter more than a little. “There was no time, milord. Time was of the essence. I do apologize, your lordship, it will not happen again.” Wraith did not move, his fist holding tightly to Walter’s tunic, his nostrils flaring. Slowly, he lowered Walter until his feet touched ground. “You may go for now, Walter, but this matter ‘tis far from over.” Wraith watched him through slitted eyes, his deadly stare causing chills to race up and down his spine.

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The next day was blustery, with a sky that was grey and ominous as though to forecast the troubles that lay ahead. Walter spotted Margarete as soon as he entered the drafty dining hall. She was wiping tables off when she looked up and caught sight of him sitting against the far wall. Slowly gazing at the occupants surrounding her, she nonchalantly sauntered over to stand some distance away. She continued cleaning tables as she ignored his presence. “When did you return?” she asked softly, while keeping her attention focused on rearranging the flowers in a nearby container. “Last night. Although, upon my return things did not go as I had planned.” He kept his voice low and pretended to inspect his dagger. “Did not Lord Lothar side with us on our plan?” she questioned eagerly. “Aye, Lord Lothar has given us a fortnight to return the blond wench before he attacks Exeter again. ‘Tis not the problem to which I refer,” he continued softly. “Then of what problem do you speak?” Her patience seemed to be running short. “Lord Wraith caught me.” His voice trailed off as he spoke. “You fool! What reasoning did you give for being away from the castle?” Her annoyance with his blunder caused her to speak louder than she intended. Several people eating turned their heads to listen. “I told him I had left to attend to a sick relative.” “Quite inventive, did he believe your story?” She inched closer as she wiped the table in front of him. “Nay, he did not. He told me our discussion was far from over” “Hell and damn, Walter. What are we to do? He will be watching your every move. We have only a fortnight to return her.” She abandoned her ploy now, to stare directly at him. “We must start planning when and where to execute our plan. You have access to the stables, therefore, I believe that you should secure the horse and wagon we shall use.” Margarete’s temper had come to head as she formulated a plan. “And, what will you do whilst I am trying not to get caught again?” Sarcasm laced his comment. “I will be picking the perfect time and place to take the wench.” Moving away to another table, she shot him a nasty look. **** Wraith gazed up at the unsettling sky as the wind made dust clouds swirl around his feet and his hair wave about his shoulders in a haphazard way. He wondered what had become of Bridgett this morn. He had not seen her at the breaking of fast. He had to admit that he missed seeing her when she was not around. He had become accustomed to seeing her beautiful face to brighten up his predictably, lonely days. Since her arrival, he started to take notice of everyday things in life that he had previously not taken time to appreciate. Like the dazzling array of stars that nightly presented themselves in the evening sky. Or the simple pleasure in the aroma of freshly cut flowers, and even the laughter of a child at play. However, what he really appreciated was the sight of the beautiful woman who made him have feelings he never expected to experience. She had been eager to give herself to him last eve. She had offered her body. Yet, he was not worthy of her and would not allow her to make such a huge mistake. He needed to make a decision in her best interest.

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Striding towards the lower bailey, on route to the gatehouse, Wraith thought he caught sight of a blond head as it entered the thatched-roof hut of widow Fryer. Not many people possessed blond hair the color of Bridgett’s. Wanting to satisfy his male curiosity, Wraith stealthily approached the tiny hut. Quietly he pushed open the doorway, and ducking low enough to accommodate his height, he entered. The sound of subdued voices trickled from the rear room. He followed the sounds. Peeking cautiously around the door jam, he witnessed a humbling sight. Bridgett knelt before the widow, tending to a sore on the elderly woman’s leg. Gently she applied a salve to the infection as the widow closed her eyes in obvious relief from the pain. Pride and pleasure filled Wraith upon seeing the tender scene. His suspicions crushed, he reveled in Bridgett’s loving nature. She selflessly gave of herself to another soul in need. He breathed a sigh of relief that Bridgett did not have a rendezvous with an amorous male seeking her attentions. If he were truthful to himself, he admittedly did not want her involved with any other men. However, he felt compelled to do something regarding an arranged marriage for her. He had thought the best selection would be the Earl of Leister, Bastien de Montfort. The Frenchborn earl would be the perfect compliment to the stunning sister of a wealthy land baron and daughter of a knight. He was everything that Wraith was not, well bred, highly educated at university, and refined in manner and dress. He was not a knight who spent his days dressed in chain mail, hauberks, and arming doublets. Rather, in coats made of fine silks and satin shirts with embroidered adornment. Yes, he would provide Bridgett the kind of husband she was entitled to have, even if his heart rebelled mightily. His heart…he had never even taken notice of his heart before the blond goddess had arrived in his desolate life. He had thought perhaps he had become ill, as he tried to justify the uncharacteristic palpitations resounding in his chest. Nevertheless, the sensations repeated themselves coincidentally with Bridgett’s nearness and he begrudgingly admitted that the unexplainable feelings were his heart in the throes of affection. The closest he had ever come to affection were his feelings for Sir de Marten, the one who had been a father figure since boyhood. In addition, his feelings for his friend and companion Perrin. The man who had become the closest thing he ever had to a brother. What he felt for Bridgett was totally new and foreign to him. Dare he believe he had fallen in love? His feelings were inconsequential at this point. Bridgett needed a worthy husband. She needed a man without a questionable background, or a miserable childhood. He needed to accept the fact that Bridgett would marry the Earl of Leister. As his mind returned to the present, he silently backed away from the open doorway and made his getaway. Stepping out into the threatening weather, he headed for the gatehouse with the intention of investigating Walter’s mysterious whereabouts for the past days. With his usual commanding swagger, he strode across the lower bailey and climbed the narrow stairway leading to the barbican area of the gatehouse. Once atop the massive structure, he spotted the Dermot, acting as sentry. The wind buffeted him as it howled through the crenels, making his hair fly into his face. “Dermot, I wish to question you, my friend.” The wind carried his voice aloft, yet startled the Scotsman as he whirled around to face his liege lord. A smile instantly spread across his face.

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“Aye, milord, what ‘tis it you would like to know?” “Did Walter, my squire, pass through these gates last eve?” Wraith wasted no time getting to the point for he had a nagging feeling that something was amiss. “Aye, he did indeed, milord. I thought it quite peculiar.” Wraith shuddered, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Something did not sit right with this entire situation. “How so Dermot?” questioned Wraith. “He came out of nowhere, milord. And when I asked him where he had been, he said he had been on business for you, your lordship.” Wraith’s sudden alarm had his heart pounding. “Indeed.” His suspicions grew rapidly and the uneasy feeling coursed threw his body. “He seemed very nervous and would not look me in the eye, milord.” “Was he alone, Dermot?” Wraith wanted to discover whether Walter had accomplices in the plan. “Nay, none that I could see, milord.” Dermot grasped his sword sheath to steady it in the powerful wind. “Aye, my thanks to you for the information.” Nodding, Wraith turned abruptly and wandered along the wall walk until he had a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. Inhaling deeply, he devoted a few moments to savor the view of his lands and the fresh air of the brisk winds. The rolling landscape presented a picturesque vista, as the waving grasses blended into the density of the forest. Just as he was about to turn, a blue and gold surcoat caught his eye. The lone rider stayed just inside the cover of the wood as he stared in the direction of the castle. Another sweeping glance confirmed an allegiance of knights belonging to the House of de Griffyth, watching from the edge of cover. For weeks, he had sent garrisons of men to scout the surrounding lands and scour the countryside for evidence of Lothar’s troops. They had examined hidden glens and long-forgotten caves for any sign that Lothar surveyed his castle. A daily search of the surrounding forest thicket revealed nothing of the unwelcome inhabitants in the area. Yet, they had invaded his land without his knowledge. Racing down the stairs, Wraith sprinted towards the stables as he yelled for a legion of knights to saddle their mounts and accompany their liege. Gaining his destrier’s back, he kicked the stallion into action, his men throwing themselves upon their mounts in an effort to stay with him. Together the armed garrison of men thundered over the drawbridge and stormed across the meadow to the wooded perimeter. Having the distinct advantage of knowing intimately every grove and thicket of Exeter’s property, Wraith headed directly into the dense coverage of boughs and branches in the piney timber. Leaning low over his steed’s thick neck, he weaved and maneuvered the huge animal along a path wide enough for only one horse at a time. The steady stream of warriors followed along at a brisk pace even for the tight squeeze of the overhanging foliage. Wraith considered the fact that he could be running headlong into a trap set by Lothar, for he had only brought with him a small band of knights, not a commanding force ready for battle. Slivers of sunlight sliced through the heavy coverage of the surrounding trees as the afternoon sun made intermittent appearances. Suddenly ahead, Wraith again caught a glimpse of the blue and gold of the de Griffyth crest. He urged his mount into a faster pace and caught a brief view of the retreating backs of Lothar’s men. Then the glint of chain mail in the surrounding forest caught his eye and he realized quickly the ambush about to take place. Kicking his mount into a gallop, the pounding hoof beats and snorting horses behind told him his troops followed closely.

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Ahead the path widened slightly, opening to reveal a group of fully armored knights with weapons ready. Wraith had little time to prepare other than to unsheathe his sword and charge directly into their midst. As he encountered the first knight, he dropped his reins to devote his power to two-handed combat. Using his leg muscles, he directed his horse in various directions to give him the optimum advantage over his opponent. The deafening clash of metal blades reverberated throughout the forest, and men could be heard grunting as they thrust their weapons at one another. Occasionally, a scream indicated an unfavorable result. Wraith’s rival was well trained and kept his attention riveted to him, knowing that one second of inattentiveness could cost him his life. The battle continued and the once tranquil woodlands were now the scene of fierce combat as men battled for their lives with swords swinging and shields thudding the deflected blows. Next to him, Girard, one of his favored knights, fell from a puncture to the shoulder. Wraith himself was tiring of the blows dealt and decided to wear-down his foe. He slashed at his attacker repeatedly as he smashed his weapon upon the knight’s shield. Wraith remained patient for the opportune time to strike a deadly blow. As expected, the knight swung in a wide arc, as he succumbed to fatigue, allowing Wraith to plunge his weapon between the sudden separation of his breastplate and pauldron. Shock registered instantly on his face as he pitched forward in his saddle and fell from his horse. Swinging around, Wraith somehow prevented his own beheading as he slammed his sword blade into the head of the attacking knight. Following the fallen man to the ground, he pointed his sword directly to his exposed throat as a warning to remain immobile. “Why has Lothar sent you?” The blunt question left little to interpret as he stared down into the face of his foe. “Lothar wishes you dead, at any cost, milord.” The man’s eyes were glassy and he panted from fear. Knowing what Wraith had endured in Lothar’s castle, he probably expected the same. “What else happens? There must be more to this than Lothar’s desires for my death.” Wraith lowered his face and stared into the eyes of his enemy, waiting for an answer. The man’s raspy breaths led to no answers, for he remained silent. Most of Wraith’s men had overpowered their attackers to hold them at sword point. An eerie quiet suddenly prevailed throughout the wood. “Very well then, take them to the dungeon and string them up. Mayhap a day or two in chains will refresh their memories. You are now all my prisoners.” Pushing off the man’s chest, he walked to his horse and swung up into his saddle as he waited for his knights to gather the remaining men of Lothar’s that were alive. The men shivered with fear, thinking he would torture them for information. Leaving the forest, a golden glow bathed the fields surrounding the castle as the thundering garrison of men sped across the landscape to return to the castle. Wraith was eager to return to the castle to speak to Bridgett. Lothar was becoming more brazen in his attempts to breach the castle. Wraith needed to finalize his plans for Bridgett before another attack on Exeter could transpire. As they reached the lower bailey, Wraith jumped from his horse and strode towards the castle. He needed to broach the subject of an impending marriage for Bridgett. Something seemed very strange about Walter’s disappearance and the sudden appearance of Lothar’s men, and he would bet his destrier that it had everything to do with Bridgett.

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Walking to the rear of the castle keep, he was all but certain he would find her in her garden. He found her kneeling before a pile of freshly turned earth as she tended to her newly formed seedlings. The chill of the early morning had given way to an overcast day of intermittent sunshine and strong breezes. Kneeling upon her mantle to protect her knees from the moist dirt, Bridgett concentrated on the tiny sprigs of Tarragon that had pushed through a mound of dirt to bask in the warmth of the sun. Tenderly she pinched the leaves and pushed a protective heap of earth around the spindly stem as protection against the harsh autumn weather. Completely immersed in her gardening, she failed to notice Wraith’s arrival until a huge shadow fell across her, blocking out the sudden appearance of the sun. Lifting her head, she shielded her eyes with a cupped hand and squinted up. She continued to protect her eyes from the rays that threatened to burst past his hulking frame. “You startled me, milord.” She offered him a small smile as she waited for him to speak. Strolling to an adjacent boulder, he leaned against it and crossed one booted foot over the other. “We need to make plans for your future, Lady Bridgett.” He purposefully kept his voice low and calm, not wishing to allude to any danger associated with his need to converse. “I fear your brother’s return and his obsession with marrying you off. We must foil his plans with one of our own.” Bridgett’s eyes widened and sparkled with enthusiasm. He knew where her thoughts headed, and he dreaded dashing her hopes with his announcement. “What did you have in mind, milord?” He hesitated, knowing she would not find his suggestion so agreeable. “I have decided a good match for you is the Earl of Leister, Bastien de Montfort.” Instantly her smile faltered, her expression fell, and her posture stiffened. “What? Why, milord?” He could barely look into her eyes, so great was his guilt. “He is a French-born earl, milady, a man of great wealth and breeding. He is a perfect match for you.” Springing to her feet, she moved to stand directly in front of him. Looking up into his face, she placed her hands on her hips. “Perfect by whose standards, milord? I will not be told who I am to marry.” He inhaled slowly as he finally met her gaze. “We cannot stand idly by and wait for your brother to make our decisions for us. He can do nothing about your marriage.” “He will petition the king and have the marriage annulled, milord. He will attack Exeter again until he has his way.” She now stood to one side of him, gripping his arm urgently as her eyes turned up pleadingly to meet his. “He will have no say to the king once we have exposed his plan to dispose of me. I know he planned to kill me by beating me to death, then throwing my body into the forest. By the time my men found me, the wolves would have made the evidence of his beatings look like their handiwork.” She nodded knowingly, yet did not release her grip on his arm. “What you say is probably true, yet, I fail to see why I must wed this Frenchman, milord.” “He is a good match for you, Bridgett. You must see it my way.” He had forgotten to address her by her title, instead calling her by her Christian name. “We shall see, milord!” Throwing back her head in a defiant manner, she spun around and stamped away towards the castle, dust rising with each violent step.

Heartless Warrior

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Wraith had the feeling he was in for a fight on this matter.

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Chapter Ten It was late afternoon when Bridgett returned to her sleeping quarters to rest and freshenup before dinner. She sat down on her pallet and reclined her head against the wall, intending only to catch a catnap to rejuvenate her strength. She was tired after having spent the morning tending to the sick, and most of the afternoon planting a small herb garden behind the kitchen scullion. The garden would serve her purposes well while she remained at Exeter, but in the event she had to leave the castle, she would pass the garden on to a capable recipient. She was not ready to submit to Lord Wraith’s ideas without a fight however. She knew whom she wished to wed, and it was not Bastien de Montfort. She did not care if he was an earl, or even the king of England, she would not have him. As Bridgett sat chewing on her lip in troubled thought, a jubilant Judith burst into the room humming a happy tune and smiling from ear to ear. She stood directly in front of Bridgett and continued to hum until she opened one eye out of sheer curiosity. “What has you in such a joyous mood, Judith?” The one eye closed again. “Surprises, I have many surprises for you, milady! You must come with me this instant…please!” Judith, who was barely able to contain her jubilation latched onto Bridgett’s hand and dragged her to her feet. “Very well, but this had better be worth all this secrecy.” A reluctant Bridgett allowed herself to be hauled out of the chamber. Down one corridor and up the next they proceeded, until at last they stood before a large wooden door with scrolling ironwork adorning its face. “Where do you take me?” Bridgett’s suspicion and curiosity were now equally piqued. “Come inside and you shall see, milady!” While still clutching Bridgett’s hand tightly, Judith swung the door open. Stepping into the center of the room, Bridgett was astounded to find a very elegant bedroom. A large bed dominated the room with a canopy of brocade perched above. Beautiful tapestries festooned the walls, natural light poured in through the generous windows, and a lavish rug covered the cold, hard stone floor. Walking over to the spacious bed, Bridgett suddenly noticed the vast selection of costly and beautiful gowns lining the top of the bed. Turning towards Judith, her bewilderment was no doubt evident on her face. “Whose room is this Judith? Obviously a very fine lady, for she owns many beautiful gowns?” Judith beamed even more broadly. “’Tis your room, milady, and these are your gowns!” Bridgett was shaking her head vehemently as she gazed at the dresses made of expensive materials. “This cannot be, for I own no such gowns.” “You own them now, milady. Lord Wraith has said that you are not dress in rags any longer. I am to be your lady-in-waiting, for I will be with you all of the time from now on. These are your new quarters. Lord Wraith has said that you are a titled lady, and as such, deserve a fine sleeping chamber. And, you are no longer to eat with the castle help, but at the high table by his side.”

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Bridgett’s mouth hung open with sheer disbelief as she gazed in wonder around the elegant chamber. Perhaps her refusal to wed the Frenchman had him reconsidering his plan. “Why has he done this?” Slowly Judith turned to face Bridgett and taking both of her hands into hers, met her gaze. “Lord Wraith is a mysterious and wonderful man, milady. I think he may have undeclared feelings for you that he is not yet able to admit to himself.” Releasing Judith’s hands, she turned towards the windows as her emotions flooded to the surface. “Lord Wraith wishes me to marry the Earl of Leister, Bastien de Montfort” A shuddering breath escaped as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Nay, milady, why would he do all this just to marry you off to some earl?” Confusion surrounded Bridgett, for she sincerely hoped that Judith was correct in her assessment of Lord Wraith’s feelings. She could not bear to discover that he had done all of this to prepare her as a bride for someone else. She was deeply in love with the dark lord and prayed that he was trying to show her some of his affection. An ecstatic Judith bounced over to the dazzling array of gowns and held one up against her front. “We had better start getting you ready for dinner, milady. We wouldn’t want to keep his lordship waiting, now would we? Which one shall it be?” Bridgett stood in front of the beautiful display and decided she would make the best of this situation by tempting the mysterious lord with his own gifts. Bridgett descended the stairway a short time later truly feeling like a fairy princess. She had chosen a royal blue taffeta gown that was trailed along by several feet of flowing material. She hoped Wraith would catch her subtle message, blue being the color of fidelity. She would save the green one, the color of love, for a very special occasion. The elegant dress had long sleeves, an empire-style waist, flowing skirt, and a squared neckline that showed a modest amount of creamy bosom from the tight bodice. Her hair was gathered at the sides and secured at the back, leaving the remainder of her glorious tresses flowing seductively down her back. A thin, gold, chaplet encircled her head. With Judith proudly behind, Bridgett made her grand entrance as she gathered her skirts and walked self-assuredly along the side aisle towards the high table. Her eyes remained riveted to Wraith as he sat in solemn conversation with Perrin. Perrin caught sight of her and instantly stopped talking to look past Wraith’s shoulder in complete awe. Wraith’s curiosity piqued, as he followed Perrin’s stare in an effort to discover the reason for the strange expression upon his commander’s face. When his eyes locked with hers, he stood to receive her by his side. Their gazes held as they moved closer, causing a deadly silence throughout the entire dining hall. Gazing down, Wraith’s breath seemed to catch in his throat as Bridgett stared up. Bridgett’s heart pounded in her chest as she gazed into his now relaxed expression and marveled at the handsome sight before her. Attired in a dark grey tunic, adorned only with embroidered silver-crossed swords, tight black hose, and black boots, Wraith was the picture of a dark, mysterious, and thoroughly irresistible man. His raven-black hair was washed and tastefully swept back away from his face. Bridgett’s breasts heaved with the raw emotions that consumed her and she could not seem to tear her eyes from the dashing knight who stood before her.

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She knew that she wore her heart upon her sleeve for all to see, yet she cared only what Wraith would think. She had all but told him she loved him the night before in his bedchamber. Now, she was certain he would have no doubts regarding her love for him. Sitting by his side at the high table, she could barely contain her joy at being able to share time with him in a relaxed manner. She ate with gusto, sipped at her wine, waved at the castle folk, and generally enjoyed herself. She had again selected the menu, as Agnes nightly prepared the recipes that Bridgett carefully designated for each evening. This evening she had chosen fresh trout, garnished with rosemary, mint leaves, fresh thyme, sage, sea salt, and black pepper. Newly picked vegetables and hot, baked bread accompanied the meal. Occasionally, Bridgett would turn her head to find Wraith trying, unsuccessfully, to stare at her out the corner of his eye. Each time he did so she would turn her head and grant him a dazzling smile. Eventually, out of sheer persistence, a tiny smile graced his lips and he seemed to enjoy it. Faces at the lower tables mirrored everyone’s shock at the sight of seeing their emotionless leader smiling graciously at the beautiful woman by his side. Happiness overflowed through Bridgett at the thought that Wraith actually smiled at her and had accepted their feelings for one another. Dinner progressed, but went all too quickly for Bridgett, for she knew that at the conclusion of the meal she would separate from Wraith. She truly relished every moment they spent in each other’s company. As the diners began to rise and leave the hall, the room quieted and they made their way to their sleeping chambers for the evening. Wraith finished his conversation with Perrin and turned towards Bridgett. “’Tis time I escort you to your new sleeping quarters, milady” “’Tis more than I deserve, milord, that, and the beautiful gowns. How can I ever repay you?” Her whisper suggested her intentions for the evening. “You have already repaid me Bridgett… you saved my life. You have tended to my wounded men, aided the sick, and improved everyone’s life at Castle Exeter.” Slowly he rose, pulled out her chair and offered his arm. His chivalry made her heart flutter. She gently placed her hand upon his arm and allowed him escort her towards the winding stairway. She could not help glancing sidelong at his handsome and virile profile as they walked together towards her room. She thought they made a very handsome couple, and hoped he shared the same feelings. Upon reaching her door, Wraith moved to stand directly in front of her and gazed down with hooded eyes. She brazenly placed one hand upon his chest as she met his gaze, hoping that her love would transcend the space between them. Slowly Wraith bent his head and tenderly kissed her lips. Bridgett was awash with the erotic sensation of his full lips upon hers. She could feel her heart swell and he stole her breath away. Could he not feel the love and passion that coursed through her body every time he touched her? As his lips sensuously caressed hers, he slowly raised his head, ran a hand tenderly against her cheek and opened the door for her. She passed partially through the door, turned, and gave him her most seductive smile. After closing the door, she pressed her back against it and released a huge breath. Mayhap her dreams of love and marriage were about to come true. Suddenly, she remembered something she needed to discuss with him that could not wait until morn. Opening the door, she lifted her skirts and made her way down the stairs.

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Approaching the huge meeting room, voices stopped her. The fire crackled in the hearth as two men conversed. “What do you plan to do, milord?” The seriousness of Perrin’s question made her strain to hear Wraith’s reply. Wraith expelled a huge sigh before answering. “I have decided the best thing for Bridgett is to wed the Earl of Leister, Bastien de Montfort”. Shock and rejection roared through her body as she backed away from the doorway. Wraith’s last sentence resounded in her ears loudly as she raced back towards her room. The pain of his decision pierced her like a sword and brought tears to her eyes. Covering her mouth with her hand, she slammed her door as she flung herself onto the bed. In the solitude of her chambers, for the third time she cried herself to sleep.

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Chapter Eleven Morning dawned and a puffy-eyed, despondent Bridgett begrudgingly rose from her canopied bed to face another dismal day. Swinging her legs off the bed, she felt a surge of rebellion as she contemplated the future with someone she did not love. She would not allow Wraith to replace her brother as sole decision maker in her future. She would fight him with every ounce of her being. She had thought he had come to terms with their love for one another. Apparently, his stubbornness outweighed his intellect, forcing her to formulate a new plan. She had lived under Lothar’s commanding hand her entire life and she was not about to lose her one true love. Gathering her courage, she jumped off the bed and yelled for Judith. “Judith, where are you? Have you abandoned me already!” “Oh no, milady, I am here.” Judith swished through the bedchamber door and stood beside the bed. “Make haste then, we have a warrior to snare.” Bridgett smiled as she prepared her plan of attack. Judith hastily brought in a day gown for Bridgett as she eyed her quietly. Finishing quickly, Bridgett walked with brisk steps toward the dining hall. As she turned the corner, she reaffirmed her determination to pursue him. Throwing back her shoulders, she made a grand entrance that would have made the queen proud. Lifting her chin in defiance, she swayed her hips in a sultry manner. Wraith abruptly terminated his conversation in mid-sentence to leer openly at her as she sauntered seductively towards the high table. His mouth fell agape as he blatantly stared. Standing, he acknowledged her presence, and waited for her address him. “Good morn, milord.” Her tone was clipped and businesslike. “Good morn to you, Lady Bridgett.” Confusion spread across his features as he stared questioning at her. We have an honored guest arriving for dinner tonight. I would be most appreciative if you would select a very special meal for this evening’s festivity.” “Of course, milord. May I ask who the honored guest might be?” She was quite certain she knew the answer but preferred to hear it from him. “The Earl of Leister, Bastien de Montfort,” he mumbled. She had thought as much, but had hoped he would come to his senses. Her head whirled around and she pinned him with a challenging glare. He must have recognized her rebuttal and remained silent. “Why does he come to dinner at Exeter, milord?” Her nostrils flared and her breasts rose and fell with her agitation. “I thought we had established your need for a husband, milady.” His green eyes flashed with indignation as he kept his voice deceptively low. “I do not recall agreeing to marry a husband of your choice, milord.” Her quick retort had heads spinning as all in the dining hall quieted to listen intently. “Aye, ’tis true, I picked a husband for you and you will marry him!” His voice rose as his face came close enough that their noses touched.

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“We shall see, milord!” Standing forcefully, her chair crashed falling back off the dais, she gathered her skirts in her fisted hands, and stormed out of the hall. **** Wraith stood, his arm comfortably braced against the heavy wooden mantle of the immense fireplace as he pretended to listen to the incessant prattle of his dinner guest. In his hand rested a large vessel of red wine, a substance that he more often lately found disturbingly comforting. His thoughts remained centered upon the alluring female who would soon make her entrance into the candle-lit meeting hall. Intermittently he would glance at the entranceway as the nervous drumming of his fingers upon the cracked wood of the mantle demonstrated how unsettled he actually was with this arrangement. He nodded at certain intervals, hoping to deceive his guest into thinking he listened to his useless topics of conversation. Wraith actually thought that the earl was a rather shallow and uninteresting person, concerning himself only with hunting, balls, and frivolous events deemed interesting by the aristocracy. He had difficulty visualizing a vibrant, vivacious, beauty like Bridgett finding happiness with a person like the Earl of Leister. Continuing to wrestle with his conscience, Wraith heard the unmistakable rustle of satin approaching from the outer hallway. Immediately his senses were on alert, his nerves frayed, and his muscles tensed as he prepared for an announcement that gave him no pleasure whatsoever. Bridgett entered the room sweepingly in one of his creations for her. He had commissioned the castle tailor to create the gowns for Bridgett without ever having to physically measure her. He had all but memorized her body from mere close contact. Rounding the corner, Bridgett immediately locked gazes with him. He stood, unpretentiously at the mantle of the hearth with Perrin. All eyes turned to view Bridgett and Wraith stepped forward and extended his arm in a gentlemanly gesture. She displayed a ravishing picture of femininity, as she presented him with a devastating smile, definitely aimed at retaliation. Dressed in a slim gown of emerald green satin, that fit her perfectly, Bridgett proudly grasped Wraith’s offered arm. The squared neck displayed a generous amount of bosom that escaped from the tightly laced bodice. Long sleeves opened to reveal embellished gold embroidery at her fingertips. A high, empire waist cinched tightly below her breasts, led to an elegant, flowing skirt that swished with each footstep. Her blond tresses were unbound this evening, as they cascaded down her back. Again, the gold chaplet adorned her head, as a silent reminder to Wraith of the gift he had given her. “Ah, milady, we have been awaiting your arrival.” Wraith’s voice was somewhat subdued as he turned Bridgett to present her to the unfamiliar male in attendance. “Lady Bridgett, may I present the Earl of Leister, Bastien de Montfort.” Bridgett graciously curtsied as she bowed her head. “Sir, Lady Bridgett de Griffyth.” The earl bent slightly at the waist as he grabbed her hand gently. Bridgett seemed to be assessing him as he bowed his head towards her. His long, knee-length doublet was a vibrant red, indicating that he proclaimed himself royalty. His tan chausses finished at his feet with pointed shoes. As he raised his head, he pointedly gazed at her exposed cleavage as if he had a right to ogle her body. This infuriated Wraith and his fists clenched in an attempt not to pummel the earl.

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Bastien de Montfort was of medium stature, possessed medium-brown hair, displayed medium intelligence, and was simply mediocre. He seemed very interested in Bridgett, yet she seemed not the least bit impressed with him. Wraith was not even sure if he would be able to go through with this arrangement, now that the earl was here to collect his bride. Bridgett stood in front of the earl, showing him respect as his eyes lewdly caressed her body. “May I say, milady, that Lord Wraith did not exaggerate in his description of your beauty!” Brazenly, he ran one finger down the side of her cheek. “And your gown is simply stunning. The emerald green color looks ravishing on you.” Wraith had taken a step forward and was prepared to end the charade, when Bridgett’s next words stopped him. “Aye, milord, I wear it because I believe it matches the green in Lord Wraith’s eyes perfectly! Do you not agree?” Her gaze swung provocatively to Wraith’s as she moved slowly to his side and grasped his arm. Muffled gasps resounded through the hall. Sir de Marten struggled not to choke on a mouthful of wine that he had been in the process of swallowing. Turning his head to stifle a snicker, Perrin covered his mouth with a hand while coughing, in an ineffectual attempt to cover his laughter. Wraith glared at the two as a warning to cease the merriment. Bridgett seemed delighted with the arrangements as she clung to his arm possessively. Sir de Marten simply looked away in the opposite direction, attempting to maintain a straight face. Meanwhile, Perrin had now turned to smile alluringly at Judith. Bastien de Montfort was rendered speechless by Bridgett’s courageous statement and he stared from her to Wraith. “Aye, well, I am sure that Lord Wraith can appreciate the color of your gown, but ‘tis I who is the guest of honor this evening, milady. I would hope that you wore this tempting dress for my benefit. After all, we are to finalize our marriage agreement this very eve, are we not?” Bridgett appeared ill by his overbearing attitude. Without considering the consequences, she blurted out her objections. “I have made no arrangements to wed you, sir. In fact, I have already made my selection for husband.” De Montfort’s head spun around until he stared up questioningly at Wraith, as though waiting for clarification to the misunderstanding. Wraith blinked in confusion, his lips parting slightly, yet he could offer nothing to the conversation. “What manner of joke is this? Lord Wraith has assured me we are to become husband and wife.” De Montfort yelled, as he had again turned to face Bridgett. “Who is the man that is to be you betrothed?” His raging tirade had turned his face beet-red and he huffed with fury. “Why ‘tis Lord Wraith, of course!” Bridgett’s triumphant expression did not go unnoticed. Gasps resounded loudly throughout the meeting hall as she stared up at him. She hugged his arm to her chest and she smiled sweetly. Perrin, unable to contain his laughter any longer, burst out in unrestrained guffaws. Wraith’s mask was once again in place as he stared down at Bridgett. Bastien de Montfort’s jaw dropped, his face contorted in anger and he stormed from the room in a blaze of red. Fully prepared to continue the fine feast in waiting, Bridgett clung to Wraith’s arm as she happily led him to the dining hall.

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“Let us not let this fine fare go to waste, milord, I have planned a very special meal for this evening.” Wraith, still at a loss for words, stared down in bewilderment, unable to utter any words at all. “I have selected a combination of hare, veal, and chicken cooked in fresh ground fennel root and ground ginger. This is cooked in olive oil and seasoned with salt and is accompanied by fresh baked whole meal bread. As a side dish, I have selected toasted pine nuts served after the main course. Last, but not least, dessert. I have chosen one of your favorites, Lord Wraith, for this special evening.” Her eyes sparkled as she gazed up into his, her lips parting in seductive temptation. Wraith, confused, lent his forearm to the spirited beauty, who gave no hint of shame at the mysterious revelation of their impending nuptials. Leading him to the high table, she proceeded to sit at her usual side and gushed with information regarding their wedding. The evening progressed without incident, with much wine being consumed and lavish feasting on the sumptuous meal. Conversations grew louder as wine goblets tipped more frequently, and laughter became more raucous with each refilled glass. Wraith, as usual, refrained from clouding his senses, an in-born trait of a seasoned soldier. He watched with interest as Bridgett downed two entire goblets of wine herself. She was not used to imbibing, and he wondered if he would need to carry her to her chamber at the conclusion of the evening. As the meal wound down to an end, musicians appeared and raised their instruments, giving the hall a festive atmosphere. Participants stood to clear the tables, then joined in the merriment to whirl and dance to the gay and uplifting music that filled the castle. Cheerful tones from the flute, lyre, and mandolin blended perfectly, while the dulcet qualities of the dulcimer and harp created more captivating sounds. Perrin and Judith appeared to be enjoying each other’s company, dancing together with eyes only for each other. Bridgett smiled as she watched her shy lady-in-waiting. They made a lovely couple, just as he and Bridgett did. Feeling the effects of the wine, Bridgett became more brazen as she stood up and advanced towards a wary Wraith. As usual, he presented a solid wall of indifference as she tugged on his hand. She literally dragged him out of his chair to the dancing area. Grasping his hands in hers, they joined the whirling dancers who glided around the dance floor joining in the merriment. Within a matter of moments, his attitude seemed to soften and he peered down at her happy, smiling face. She was so beautiful, he found it difficult not to smile and rejoice. Wraith felt somewhat deceitful though, for he had abandoned the resentful and livid earl without further justification for the abysmal turn of events. Admittedly, he had no inkling of Bridgett’s plans prior to learning them himself, for he would not have subjected the earl to such humiliation if it could have been avoided. He was still not even sure what he was going to do about her newfound announcement. Did she truly believe that they were to be betrothed, or was she simply trying to eliminate the earl from the list of possibilities? Looking down into her face, a carnal expression was enhanced by a lascivious smile that curved her pouty lips. Endeavoring to turn his attention elsewhere, Wraith glanced towards the high table, only to discover everyone watching and smiling at them. He was not used to being the center of attention and sought to end the commotion they caused. Grabbing Bridgett’s hand, he made his way through the crowds towards the stairwell, fully intending to escort Bridgett to her chambers. Upon reaching the bottom step, Bridgett swayed slightly from her imbibing of too much wine. As he had previously predicted, he would

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need to carry her to her chamber. Dipping down, he scooped her up into his arms, only to have her wrap hers around his neck, tuck her head beneath his chin, and sigh contentedly. Effortlessly he carried her, whereupon, he kicked her door open and shut with his booted foot. At the force of the door slamming, the crossbar crashed down, effectively locking them in, alone. With his arms full, Wraith fully intended to deposit Bridgett on the bed, cover her with a blanket, and leave quietly. Placing her gently upon the mattress, she stared up into his face with wanton desire lacing her expression. Gathering his self-control, he slowly rose and decided to stoke the dying embers before leaving. Turning, he strode across the chamber and knelt on one knee to load logs into the hearth. Stoking and prodding the wood with an iron poker, a warmth and glow invaded the chilly chamber. His thoughts drifted to the night’s strange turn of events as he performed the task and paid no attention to the movement across the chamber. Only the slightest rustle of satin alerted him that Bridgett had moved from the bed. Standing abruptly and spinning, he was unprepared for the enticing scene that greeted him. With tousled hair that flowed freely down her body, Bridgett stood in naked glory, openly tempting him to take her. The golden glow from the hearth only enhanced the beautiful vision that stood proudly before him. Her breasts heaved with excitement as her nipples stood erect with anticipation, the large, pink areolas beckoning him to touch. Her voluptuous hips, rounded by soft womanly curves, led to a flat stomach. Her long, slender, shapely legs made for an erotic picture, as one knee bent in front of the other in a seductive pose. Wraith could feel his manhood hardening instantly and knew that he needed to escape immediately or remain forever. “Bridgett, do you know what you do to me?” he whispered softly, barely able to speak. “Aye, Wraith, I know exactly what I do to you and what you do to me.” Her soft whisper tantalized him beyond reason and he stared at the impure expression upon her beautiful face. Wordlessly she strode slowly and provocatively across the dimly glowing chamber, until she stood directly in front of him. She looked up into his face with pure desire filling her expression. His gaze dropped to her lips. Never in his life did he want to taste a woman the way he wanted to taste her. His sight moved to stare into her sparkling blue eyes as she placed her hands upon his chest, sliding her palms to his shoulders and locking her arms around his neck. The heat from her nakedness seeped through his clothes to set his body on fire. His arms instantly came around her as his senses dissolved. His mouth descended to slash upon hers and a maelstrom of pleasure raced through him. She arched upward, trying to press her body to his and he reciprocated by pulling her tightly to him. The taste of sweet wine was on her lips and filled her as he plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth. Pulling her closer, a sharp breath allowed him to lift her tightly to him as he kissed her with all the passion that consumed him. Tearing his mouth from hers, he moved his lips to nip and suckle at her neck. She arched against him, pressing her breasts into his chest until the hard pebbles branded his skin through his tunic. She tilted her head to one side granting him access to press a line of kisses down the graceful column of her neck and back to her ear, where he nipped gently. She shuddered in his arms and moaned loudly in fevered carnal bliss. Moving slowly along the line of her delicate jaw, he kissed, suckled, and teased her as he again took possession of her mouth. Bridgett moaned against his lips and writhed against him to torment him even further. Lifting her from the floor until her feet dangled, he slowly moved towards the bed until he laid her down softly. With arms raised above her head, she lay submissively and gazed up at

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him through passion-hooded eyes. Her breasts jutted suggestively with each rhythmic breath she took, her nipples pointing in erotic anticipation of the sensuous touches yet to come. All defenses had been abandoned, there was no turning back as he gazed down at the Bridgett’s lithe body writhing in wait, inviting him to touch, taste, and possess her. Her eyes followed him as he backed up towards the hearth to disrobe. The fire glow from behind him would create a startling halo around his body. The silhouette would no doubt shock and possibly scare her. Every inch of his body was reacting, especially his burgeoning arousal that stood fully erect as he unlaced his chausses to release it. He kept his back turned towards her until he was ready to approach. His boots thudded to the stone floor and he slowly removed the tunic over his head, rolling the tight chausses down the length of his legs. Still facing the fireplace, he stood with legs slightly parted, his muscles rippling with tension and anticipation. His male weapon stood erect and engorged, fully ready for the coming passion. He wanted to turn slowly, letting her see his maleness before he approached her. He was quite large and well endowed and did not want to frighten her by his size. As he began to turn, he hoped the glow at his back would obscure any details of his front. Her soft gasp was her only reaction. Slowly advancing towards her, his breath caught in his throat at the beautiful sight. Her eyes sparkled. The firelight had turned her complexion to cream and gold. She bit her lower lip as her gaze raked over his entire body. “You are magnificent, Wraith. Truly a mythological god in the form of male perfection has entered my bedchamber,” she whispered breathlessly. Reaching the edge of the bed, he stared down upon her inviting body. “If I do this, you will be mine forever, Bridgett.” Without answering, she raised her arms in a welcoming gesture and he slid easily onto the surface, moving to loom over her body. Leaning forward, he placed his lips near hers, yet did not kiss her. Their eyes searched each other’s features, as she raised her face to touch her lips against his. He pulled back slightly, wishing to tease her and prolong the agonizing wait they had both endured. Leaning upon one elbow, he moved his free hand slowly towards her neck to caress the hot flesh. Fire raged where his hand touched, and he gazed down into her eyes. They were no longer a crystalline blue, but had now turned deep, dark cobalt. She quivered and mewed as she again attempted to reach his mouth with her lips. Again, he resisted, feeling a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She was probably already hot, wet, and ready for him, and he had not even touched her body yet. Finally succumbing to the torment of her invitation, he lowered his mouth to descend possessively upon hers. Angling his head, he plunged his tongue more forcefully into the depths of her mouth, in a blatant imitation of the coming events. His lips left her mouth to travel down her neck, and to her breast. His tongue made a leisurely outline of her nipple as she groaned loudly to protest his torment. His lips suckled and his tongue flicked the stimulated point, while his hand traveled down the side of her body to touch the velvety skin of her belly. Moving his mouth to the other nipple, he slid his hand to toy with the golden hair that concealed her womanhood. As his mouth suckled, his fingers moved to part the slick folds of her lips and he fondled the swollen nub. She trembled as he stoked the center of her being and she moaned and began to writhe. She dripped with her juices, but he did not wish to bring her to her final ecstasy with his fingers, for he wanted her to share in his pleasure as he entered her.

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Raising his head, he was pleased to see both nipples standing erect, having been stimulated by his sucking and manipulating. Her hips moved suggestively as his thumb stroked her hooded crest and he knew he needed to stop. Moving his weight over her, he was careful not to place his bulk upon her slender frame. Capturing her hands, he lifted them above her head in a gentle display of domination. He lowered his mouth to capture her lips again as his tongue invaded the sweet interior of her mouth. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the random touching of their nipples making him tingle with raw desire. Their hips met, her thighs moved apart allowing him to nestle between their soft creaminess. Cautiously he rested his shaft against her searing heat. With gentle precision, he began to slide his steely hardness into her tight, wet sheath. Pushing forward, he felt the tiny membrane give way as he finally made her his. She shivered as he deepened his kiss. With gentle care, he pushed further into her slick passage, allowing her time to adjust to his unusual size. He continued until he was buried to the hilt in her warmth. Her legs opened wider and she relaxed with his joyous invasion. Her hands roamed his back, in feather light touches as she caressed the scars that were her brother’s handiwork. He began to move, thrusting slowly into her, as she lifted her hips to meet him each time. She groaned against his mouth and their tongues played their own intimate game. Her legs tightened around his thighs and her arms clasped tightly behind his neck. He moved his chest over her nipples with each thrust of his hips. She must have felt impaled, for she tightened her hold on his maleness as she swallowed him totally in loving surrender. As he deepened and quickened his thrusts, he could feel the pressure building. His shaft throbbed as he drove into her with each powerful plunge. Just when he thought he might die from pleasure, he shattered and exploded within her. His own lusty roar and Bridgett’s joyous scream were cut short as he covered her mouth with his. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she shook violently with her release. They had reached heaven together as he filled her with his seed. Some moments later, his head slumped forward and his chest took great heaving gulps of air. He marveled at the ecstasy surrounding them. Never had he shared such rapture with any woman. Slipping off her body, he threw the blanket over them, nuzzled against her side gathering her into his strong embrace, and together they slipped into contented sleep. Just before slumber overtook him, Wraith whispered against the hair of his sleeping companion. “I love you, milady.”

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Chapter Twelve Wraith awoke with a start. Lifting his head from the pillow, he suddenly remembered the wondrous events of the evening. Plopping his head back down, he relished the feel of the soft feminine body nestled against his side. Her slow, even breathing indicated she still slept soundly. He had remained in her bedchamber the entire evening, for already, he could see the first vestiges of daybreak as the black sky of night had turned to a dark gray. Yet the morning had not yet broken, sunlight had not crept under the window coverings in her room and the cock had not crowed. He did not hear the servants moving about to begin their daily chores and begin preparation for the breaking of the fast. Many a night he remained awake, listening to his own heartbeat and the owl’s hooting as he contemplated the daily rigors of running the castle. Never had he slept so soundly, never before had he stayed with a woman for the entire duration of a night. Never did he want the obligation nor have the desire to do so. Peering down, he tried to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face in peaceful repose. No matter how long he lived, he would never tire of gazing upon her lovely features. Today he would begin making plans for their upcoming nuptials, since the visiting cleric would shortly be arriving but would remain only a day or two. Astounded still by the intense lovemaking and explosive feelings connected with this woman, Wraith had to admit that he had fallen deeply in love with her. He had known that she loved him, not only from her words but also from her actions. She had tempted him more than once with her luscious body, and had blatantly rejected the Earl of Leister as her mate. Gathering the drowsy female in his arms, he gazed down at the bounty of golden waves that lay across his chest and shoulder. He continued to listen contentedly to Bridgett’s heavy breathing and he marveled at his newfound emotions. Strangely enough, she had already chosen him for a husband, a phenomenon that continued to baffle him. Not wishing to disgrace her, he cautiously slipped his arm out from under her head and moved away before she stirred from sleep. Sliding out of bed, he made his way to his clothes. Throwing his tunic over his head and pulling on his chausses, he picked up his boots and tiptoed to the door. Lifting the crossbar with caution, he opened the door only wide enough to allow his retreat. After one last gaze at the sleeping beauty, he closed the door quietly and moved down the hall towards his chamber. Making his way noiselessly down the corridor, the flickering torches caused shadows to dance along the stones of the wall. Reaching his chambers, he quietly closed the door behind him and made his way to a basin filled with cold water. Liberally splashing his face with the refreshing wetness, his mind cleared of nighttime fogginess. He could not recall ever having had such a restful night of sleep. No matter how battle weary or exhausted he became, sleep seemed to evade him. Turning he made his way to a large wooden chair that sat by his window. Many nights since Bridgett’s arrival, he would sit in this very chair to admire the stars and marvel at the majestic sunrises. This morning would be no exception. Fascination and awe consumed him as he rested his head against the back to admire the spectacle. Brilliant pinks, oranges, lavenders,

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and yellows, spread out across the sky, as puffy clouds blanketed the rising sphere. Rays of colored light radiated from the glowing fireball as it slowly crept up from behind the tree line to bath the darkened countryside with warm glowing hues. Inhaling a deep, relaxing breath, his mind and body relaxed as he witnessed the pleasing exhibition. Wraith wondered how many more peaceful, tranquil mornings there would be if Lothar decided to again strike against Castle Exeter. There had been no time for a false sense of security, with Lothar’s attack on the castle and the ambush in the forest. He considered what might be Lothar’s next tactical move. There could very well be calm before he attacked again. Yet he needed to wed Bridgett before Lothar’s murderous army came bearing down on Castle Exeter again. Gazing at the dazzling display of pleasing colors, Wraith closed his eyes to envision the woman who had changed his entire life. He had definitely softened since she had taken up residence in the castle. She had smiled, cooked, cleaned, danced, and loved her way right into his heart. He had no prior experience with the emotion of love, yet he instinctively knew this to be the real thing. For a heartless warrior, his was definitely trying to tell him something. Briefly, Wraith’s mind moved to a time of great pain and sadness for him. He knew he had been the reason his mother had perished during childbirth. His father had been faced with a momentous decision when he chose his son’s life over his wife’s. For his wife was the love of his life, the reason he awoke each morning. She had labored for days, unable to birth him because of his great size. Finally, as death became imminent for both mother and child, Sir Michel made a decision he would soon regret. Cutting the babe from its mother’s womb had killed her instantly, causing his father to go into a tirade of inconsolable grief. It was said he sobbed and rampaged for days, unable to accept what he had done. He avoided any contact with the child, allowing the nursemaids to feed and care for him. At the age of four, he was sent to train under Sir de Marten as a page. Ordinarily, boys of six or seven were sent away to train as pages, yet he was only four. His large, well-developed body and advanced skill got him initiated as a squire by age twelve instead of fourteen. At seventeen, he was dubbed a knight. Therein, began his history of fame and recognition as one of the greatest knights under the king of England. A quiet tapping at the door captured his attention, producing a demur Sir de Marten unsure whether he should intrude on Wraith’s solitude. Approaching, de Marten cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Ahem, your lordship, I pray this is not an inappropriate time to beg a discussion with you.” Standing by Wraith’s side, he proceeded to maintain a regal yet relaxed position as he patiently waited for Wraith to turn his attentions his way. While still seated comfortably in the wooden chair, Wraith slowly turned his head to peer into the face of the man who had been his father for nearly his entire life. “I will always have time for you, my dear friend.” The subdued tone of his voice and thoroughly relaxed posture had Marten gazing down confusedly at him. His normally harsh features probably mirrored something very close to emotions now, which probably baffled Sir de Marten even further. “What ‘tis to be our next move, milord? I know you have a great many things weighing heavily upon your mind, let me help with your burden, Lord Wraith.” As Marten made his offer, he came to stand directly in front of Wraith, placing his hands on his shoulders in a fatherly gesture. “I think ‘twould be wise for us to alert the king of Lothar’s continued assaults. He knows nothing of his attempt to kill you, nor of his attack on Exeter. If the king knew of his

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diabolical and underhanded tactics, he would decommission him and throw him in chains. We simply cannot wait until he arrives with more forces to destroy this castle. Additionally, the prisoners we captured have remained silent amidst beatings and starvation, milord. They are honor bound to silence and will not divulge Lothar’s next move.” Stepping back to a respectful distance, Marten continued with his supportive overture. “Forgive my observances, milord, but a certain lady has become the focus of Lothar’s vengeance, has she not?” Marten looked down at Wraith, waiting for his reply. Wraith’s gaze swung up to meet Marten’s as he slowly nodded his head. It would do no good to dispute the obvious, Bridgett was one reason for the retaliation, he was the other. Expelling a huge sigh, Wraith reiterated his thoughts to Marten. “You are quite right in saying we need to protect the castle. ‘Tis why I have sent a garrison of men to my other castle holdings to bolster our numbers. Exeter is my largest castle and can easily hold fifteen hundred to two thousand men at one time. More troops are to be stationed around the perimeter as added protection.” He expelled another huge sigh, his gaze returning to the window. “’Tis damned confusing Sir de Marten,” he began. “Under your guidance I was trained to be a ruthless soldier, not a doting son. No woman tended to my injuries when I was a lad, no mother kissed my cheek each night before bed. No motherly figure hugged me when my accomplishments exceeded expectations. I do not fault you for any of these things, Sir, for I was to be your student only. You did not know that my father would abandon me to your care for the remainder of my youth. You did what was humanly possible given the circumstances. I know so little about females, and yet I now find I am deeply in love with a one.” Marten’s smile spread from ear to ear as he listened. “And what do you plan to do about this situation, milord?” Wraith’s eyes slowly moved to meet Marten’s gaze again. “I will marry her as soon as possible.” Marten moved closer and lifting him out of the chair hugged him tightly. As they parted, Wraith thought he spied a misty look in the elder man’s eyes. “Congratulations, milord, you deserve it. Your love for one another has been observed by the entire castle, milord, ‘twas only a matter of time until you recognized it yourself.” Wraith pinned Marten with a perplexed glare. “What say you, Marten? How is it the entire castle knew what I myself did not know until very recently?” He stared back as he shook his head slowly in confusion. “Your feelings for one another are very transparent, milord. All of Exeter has reveled in the idea that their liege lord finally found his heart.” Wraith broke into a broad smile, hugging Marten again and pounding him on the back. “No woman ever made my blood boil, my loins ache, or my heart sing, Marten. Bridgett has done this and more. She has opened my eyes to the beauty of the world and has made my life worth living. I actually look forward to the future, Sir de Marten, something that I have never done before.” Still smiling, Marten added, “Then marry her with the whole castle’s blessings.”

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Chapter Thirteen Margarete hurried down the dim corridor, mindful that in a few hours their plans could be dashed. Plastering herself against the walls as she crept, she avoided the flickering torches overhead, making her way to the lower level knight’s quarters. She needed to reach Walter quickly and put their strategies into motion before things took an inevitable turn for the worst. The lusty roar and sensual moans of pleasure resonating from Bridgett’s chamber earlier in the evening did not sit well with Margarete and definitely did not go along well with her plans. She had a bad feeling there existed only one way to alter the future. With skirts clutched in her hands, she approached the door, and tapped softly. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the door squeaked open. A tall, young knight peered through the small crack, half his face remaining dark from the interior of the room. His eyes glared, yet he did not speak. “I need to speak with Walter immediately. ‘Tis urgent,” she whispered. The knight snorted his displeasure at having a female at the door of the knight’s quarters. Turning, he shouted to the sleeping squire. “Walter de Algate, the wench from the dining hall is here to speak with you.” She could hear a rustling of clothes and some movement inside before Walter’s sleepy face appeared. “Come hither, we must speak of a matter of grave importance.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the dim hallway. “What the hell is so important Margarete that you had to come to the knight’s quarters to get me? ‘Tis almost dawn and I will be needed to assist the knights with their chain mail and weapons.” He rubbed his eyes with his fists and yawned loudly. “Lord Wraith has bedded Lady Bridgett. The time has come for us to remove her to her brother’s midst.” His eyebrows dropped as his mouth dropped open to form an o. “Why the hell now, Margarete?” Her fists came to her hips as she glanced up and down the corridor before lowering her voice. “Because I fear they are planning a wedding, Walter. Now is the time to give Lothar what he wants. ‘Twould serve two purposes. He would have his sister back and I would have my lover. Haven’t you been following her to Sylvie Barnesdale’s house for the past week? The child is seriously ill and she has gone to her everyday, has she not? She has been making her herbal potions to cure her and is likely to repeat the same pattern today, Walter. All we need do is lay in wait to capture her.” Knowing that Bridgett harbored a weak spot in her heart for the child, Margarete conveniently used the situation to get Bridgett away from the protection of Wraith and into their trap. “You will perform your morning chores after you go to the stables and hitch the nag to the hay cart. Make sure you do not garner any suspicion. ‘Tis usually mid-morning when she

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makes her way to Sylvie’s hut. That is when we shall get her. The cart is to remain tethered near the falconer’s hut in the brush while awaiting the abduction.” **** After Margarete had gone, Walter threw on his clothes and snuck out of the quarters. Through the almost deserted kitchen area he crept, one young woman was preparing bread loaves for the morning meal but seemed to pay him no mind. Silently he made his way out the back door. Pulling on his boots, he glanced all around as the colors of dawn would be beckoning everyone to start a new day. Once he felt sure no one was about, he silently stole from one corner to another as he made his way towards the stables. Creeping into the barn, small rays of light filtered through the cracks as morning made its appearance. The smell of horses and leather greeted his nostrils and he strained to hear for any activity by the grooms. His senses were on high alert, for to be caught in this situation would not fare well with Lord Wraith. He already was not in his good graces since he had left the castle secretly to see Lord Lothar. Wraith had warned him he would be watching him. A number of nearby horses nickered as they sensed his presence. Speaking in hushed tones to one rather robust animal, he smoothed his hand over the horse’s thick neck in order to calm the animal. Spotting a decrepit swayback, he moved to harness the lethargic animal. Leading it outside, he attached the harness to a two-wheeled hay cart and discreetly concealing its whereabouts with surrounding foliage by the falconer’s hut. Stealing through the brightening morning light, Walter ran with quick, feather-light steps, making his way to the knight’s quarters. Back through the kitchen, through the dining hall, and to the main meeting hall, he descended to the lower level. Waiting for him in the darkened stairwell was Margarete. “Did you secure the cart and horse as I ordered?” rasped the nervous woman. Placing a finger to his lips, he whispered. “Aye, ‘tis done. Mid-morn I will be by the falconer’s hut as we arranged. I hope you have a plan to escape the castle as well, Margarete. Dermot will not allow us to simply leave the castle confines without a good reason,” warned Walter. Smiling cruelly, she hissed. “I have planned all, do not worry.” With that, she turned and retreated up the stairwell towards the dining hall. **** Bridgett awakened with a smile on her face and stretched like a contented cat filled with warm milk. Instantly her memories returned to the lustful and loving evening she had spent with Wraith. Her smile widened as she remembered the intimacy they‘d shared and the love she had felt from him. She knew he would not stay the entire night, as she turned slowly to pat the spot where he had lain. He hadn’t said the words, but she was all but certain he loved her as much as she loved him. He had said she would be his after he took her, and he had. She shivered as she remembered his lips upon hers, his skillful hands bringing her to wondrous places she had never been before. He had made passionate love to her and she never wanted another man in her life. Rising slowly, she hummed to herself as she walked to her water basin and washed herself with a small bar of soap she had made from her herbs. Picking up her green hazel twig, she scraped her teeth and cleaned them with a woolen cloth. Dressing in a day gown, she left her chamber to perform a very important function before she did anything else. Hurrying down the stairs, she opened the front door and stepped out into the bright sunshine. The glorious day warmed her skin with radiant sun, gentle breezes, and a cloudless

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sky. Moving quickly, she headed towards the lower bailey where Sylvie Barnesdale’s hut was located. Her hand instinctively touched the leather satchel attached to her waist where her herbs resided. Today, as everyday, she would make her daughter a concoction of Rue, Coriander, and honey. The child had gotten increasingly better with each application and Bridgett thought perhaps today would be the last day she would need to come. Tapping lightly, she stepped back to wait for admittance. Sylvie swung the door open and gave Bridgett a broad smile. “Come in, milady.” Following the woman to a back bedroom, Bridgett sat upon the bed as she played with the young girl and spoke softly to her. After she gave her the potion, she stayed to talk for a bit while she shared some cider with them. A few hours slipped by and Bridgett bid her goodbyes to return to the castle. She felt exhilarated and could not wait to see Wraith this morning to discuss their future together. How her life had changed in only a matter of a few short hours. One minute Wraith was planning her betrothal to a French earl, the next he was making her his own. As she strode by the thick foliage approaching the falconer’s hut, she felt someone behind her. Nearing the front door to the hut, one gloved hand wrapped across her mouth, while a muscled arm effectually trapped her arms against her body. Lifting her off her feet, she kicked wildly, her muffled cries being ignored. Struggling, she was carried through the door and into the hut, where the atmosphere turned to one of mayhem with high-pitched screeches, floating feathers, twisted jesses, and jangling bells. The hooded birds of prey sensed the danger and flapped pitifully as their leather straps secured them to their perches. Bridgett was gagged with a piece of linen had a canvas bag tossed over her head. She could feel the presence of two people as together they tied her tightly with coarse rope, making her escape impossible. A strong male body then hoisted her, squirming and fussing, over his shoulder. He stopped at the door, his accomplice obviously making sure the path was clear for their getaway. Walking towards the rear of the building, he deposited her in the back of some kind of cart. Wriggling in next to her, he wrapped his arms securely around her. He held her down with his body weight obviously trying to prevent her sounding the alarm. The cart lurched forward and Bridgett heard the slap of reins upon a horse’s rump. She could feel her captor’s attention being diverted as he strained to see their surroundings. She knew they must be covered, lest they would be spotted by someone as they passed. Risking his vengeance, she seized an opportunity to view whoever it was that was whisking her away. Quickly, she bent at the waist and grabbed the top of the bag with her reaching hand to pull it off. Straightening up, she came face to face with a stunned Walter. “Hell,” he whispered huskily. “What do you think you’re doing?” Starring, with wide eyes, he remained silent. Peering up, Bridgett could just make out the seated figure of the driver, perched above her head. Some sort of canvas top covered the area she was in, allowing only small views of the scenery between the cracks created by the flowing material. The driver donned a filthy woolen cape, the hood obscuring the identity of the driver. Slapping the reins again, the driver guided them towards the main gates, where they obviously meant to leave the castle walls. Bridgett prayed Dermot or the other sentries atop the walls would question the departure or even forbid it. Slowing moving before the iron and wooden portcullis, they stopped while awaiting the guards. “Who goes there?” bellowed the tired Welshman from atop of the barbican. Bridgett could just see Dermot peer through the crenel, as he squinted in an effort to identify the driver of

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the cart. The hooded head of the driver lifted slightly, as if trying to remain hidden beneath the voluminous covering. “Aye, my good man, I have here one decaying corpse headed for the graveyard.” The voice sounded female and elderly. Who would Walter be consorting with who is female and elderly? She waited for an answer. “Best not delay me my good man, the stench is already overbearing. Can you not smell it from atop the wall?” Her screeching was most annoying and gave Bridgett no clue to the identity. “Nay, I smell nothin’ lassie. But I suppose I should take your word for it. Pass through.” The driver’s body seemed to visibly slump with relief. Yet it was common knowledge that Dermot manned the walls quite often and was probably beyond caring. Fatigue had probably set in as he had been on patrol atop the wall walks for the entire night and no doubt sought only to find his blessed bed. Tremendous creaking and clanking ensued as the drawbridge began lowering and Bridgett knew this was her last hope for escape. She began to twist and squirm in Walter’s hold, attempting to scream through the packing in her mouth. She could hear the drawbridge slam against the ground and struggled even harder against the ropes and Walter’s powerful grasp. Her muffled cries did not reach the top of the wall. As the portcullis gate rose, the pitiful cart rumbled onto the wooden surface and down the small incline leading out into the meadow. Tears pooled in Bridgett’s eyes as she fought her fears and concerns. She could not imagine why someone would want to take her from Exeter. The driver slapped the horse into a full gallop, probably realizing their perilous situation should Wraith catch them. They probably knew they needed a good head start if they were to maintain distance between themselves and their furious liege. Bridgett prayed the deceptive story would not stall a pursuit by Wraith and his men. Walter released his oppressive hold on her, there was nowhere for her to go. Gazing under the billowing cover, Bridgett noticed the passing landscape indicated they traveled north. She became concerned as well as puzzled in the direction of their course. Bridgett looked over at Walter, and motioned that she wanted him to remove her gag. He slowly shook his head as he stared blankly at her. Knowing he would have to endure guilt-ridden words from her, he probably preferred to keep her quiet. Hours passed and the bumping became bruising and painful. Walter slipped his head out of the canvas cover at the front of the cart, obviously seeking fresh air and the knowledge of their whereabouts. “Hell and damn, Walter, why don’t you warn a person before you scare the life out of them?” The female voice now sounded neither elderly nor frail. It was now strong and clear, and could be heard above the old nag’s slow trot. “I think we should change drivers for awhile, the ride is quite uncomfortable back here.” Walter’s voice sounded upset and commanding as he pushed his upper body through the covering. “Nay, ‘tis safer if you are in the back to restrain our prisoner, Walter.” The female voice sounded familiar, yet Bridgett could not quite place it. Bridgett felt Walter’s muscular thigh next to her shoulder as he again seated himself next to her. The constant bouncing and thrashing about was causing her to be nauseous, in addition to giving her headache. Yet, her bound hands prevented her from pushing herself into a seated position. Sweat beads dotted her face and she breathed deeply through her nostrils, her mouth felt as dry as cotton with the gag in place. At least she could see the countryside as it passed by

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behind them. Intermittently, she would catch a full glimpse of the road behind them as the canvas cover flapped around aimlessly. They had been gone only a few hours and it was doubtful that Wraith even knew she was missing yet. She prayed that someone had seen her abduction around the falconer’s hut. If not, she might not be found. Wraith was an extremely busy man and would be engaged in a myriad of activities that would keep him occupied for almost the entire day. She dared not guess what her fate might be if Wraith did not discover her absence in time. Suddenly, the cart slowed its pace and came to a stop. Walter stood up through the gap between the covering and the front of the cart and in his place moved a matted, smelly, gray cloak that situated itself directly beside Bridgett. Wrinkling her nose from the offensive odor, Bridgett tried her best to move to the side of the cart away from the stench. “Well, if it isn’t her ladyship?” The thoroughly sarcastic tone let her know immediately who her other captor was. Bridgett raised her eyes to meet the cruel stare of Margarete. Unable to say a word because of the gag, she simply stared up at Margarete’s victorious grin. “I’m sure your brother will be very appreciative that we’re returning you to his care.” Bridgett’s eyes widened with fear and trepidation as she finally realized their malicious plot. The cart jerked into motion and they were once again thrown about. The pitiful horse trotted and dodged potholes in the dusty roadbed and Bridgett began to pray in earnest that Wraith would discover her missing in time. Hours passed, yet they pressed on, whipping the poor exhausted horse in an effort to gain as much distance as possible between themselves and Castle Exeter. The sun was beginning to set behind the English countryside, yet they continued to push ahead in a determined dash for northern Wales. Just as Bridgett thought they could go no further, Walter slowed the cart to the side of the road. Dust clouds rose around the slowing vehicle and Margarete cautiously peered up and down the deserted road looking for any sign of danger. When she was confident no one followed, she slid from the back of the cart and stretched. Walter jumped from the driver’s seat, and then disappeared into the foliage to relieve himself. Margarete leaned over to untie Bridgett’s feet and dragged her to the back of the cart. “You and I will make a trek into the woods together.” Grabbing one bound arm, she hauled her into the seclusion of the surrounding woods. Bridgett did her best to attend to her personal needs as Margarete watched her every move. Emerging into a pasture, Bridgett was pulled towards a log and shoved back to sit. Darkness descended and the chilly mist of the evening dew rolled around them in enveloping waves. Bridgett’s concern increased with every passing hour that Wraith did not appear. She wished he would catch up to them before they reached Conwy, for she feared for his life if he followed her into Lothar’s clutches. Unrolling a ragged cloth, Margarete displayed a meager amount of bread and cheese. With ravenousness, she and Walter tore into the pitiful fare until they remembered their captive. Raising their eyes to meet her gaze, they suddenly stopped. Margarete stood and moved towards Bridgett to release the gag. Then untying her, she shoved a piece of cheese at her as she stood over her with a contemptuous expression. “You would do well to eat this, ‘tis all you’re likely to get until we reach Conwy.” Margarete’s snarling words proved her hatred and disregard for Bridgett. “Although, you may not be needing food once we reach our destination.”

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Throwing back her head, she laughed with cold-blooded malice. Bridgett suspected the same, for the mere mention of Conwy was enough to conjure up nightmarish visions of her impending fate. Once they reached the castle, Lothar would very probably kill her. The thought of what he could do prior to her death sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Her brother was capable of cruel and unspeakable horrors when dealing with his prisoners. His anger very often coerced him to torture unmercifully those he had no reason to keep alive. Her imagination haunted her as she envisioned what he might do to her before she died. Her only hope was to have faith in Wraith’s ability to save her. Yet, if he followed, was it worth the tremendous battle that would ensue, or the loss of life she would cause? The two captors enjoyed the paltry offering while Bridgett stared absentmindedly into the distance. She pondered how much her life had changed in the blink of an eye. Only last evening she had been immersed in a magical experience with Wraith making passionate love to her. Now it seemed her life was about to end. Sorrow filled her at she thought of the man she had wanted to spend her entire life with, only to be denied. What a cruel twist of fate that they should discover one another only to be separated by the dark forces against them. Lothar had almost succeeded in killing Wraith and having failed at that sought to see to his finish by killing Bridgett instead. Margarete was the first to break the silence as she munched on the last remnants of food. “Walter, you need to find us a fresh horse.” Her casual statement accompanied the nonchalant licking of her fingers. “And how the hell do I do that?” His disgust with Margarete’s orders was becoming apparent with the tone of his voice. She turned her head with an air of complete indifference while smoothing her skirts as though she was entertaining important guests. “The animal is damn near dead, we need a fresh one or you shall be pulling the wagon yourself.” Her clipped demand seemed to make his lips thin as he huffed with exasperation. “We shall never be able to keep ahead of his lordship’s knights and cross the border into Wales if you do not do this.” Standing abruptly, he looked around as if he were trying to decide which direction to turn. Moving slowly to the tethered animal, he grabbed the reins and headed across an adjacent field. The two females watched until the darkness swallowed him up. The blackness of the night cloaked the land entirely and the chill of the evening air surrounded the two seated figures. Margarete could not risk a fire, so they shivered in silence as they waited for Walter to return. Bridgett rocked back and forth and rubbed her arms vigorously with her hands in an effort to keep warm. With each breath she exhaled, plumes of frozen air escaped into the night. Casting a sidelong glance at Margarete from the corner of her eye, Bridgett decided she would take this opportunity to talk to her. “Why are you doing this?” Margarete seemed to avoid her question as she stared straight ahead. “My brother is not to be trusted. He will very likely kill all three of us upon our arrival.” “Silence, you bitch!” she hissed as she turned a frightening face towards Bridgett. “You only wish to save yourself so that you can return to Lord Wraith. I will not let that happen, for he is meant to be with me.” Her eyes widened with wild jealousy, and she bared her teeth in hostility. The light from the full moon sufficiently displayed the gleaming of her glassy eyes and the whites of her exposed teeth.

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“Do not do this,” reasoned Bridgett quietly. “I wish no harm to befall Lord Wraith, Margarete. I shall leave and never return, if that ‘tis your wish. However, you must intercept Lord Wraith and stop him from going to Conwy. If you care for him, you will help me save his life.” “Nay, you hussy, you are part of the bargain. If we return you to Lord Lothar, he will spare Exeter and Lord Wraith’s life.” Bridgett’s mouth dropped open in surprise and frustration. It seemed fruitless to plead, since she and Wraith’s lives were truly over. “Lothar agreed to spare Exeter and Lord Wraith, Margarete?” She questioned quietly, to reaffirm her understanding. “He agreed to spare both in exchange for your life.” Bridgett knew Lothar would never honor such a pact with Margarete. The cold truth was that he would kill all of them and there was not a thing she could do to save them. Margarete and Bridgett continued to shiver as they waited in silence for their only salvation to return. Fear of abandonment began to creep into Bridgett’s mind as she waited nervously for any sighting of the squire. Time continued to pass and the hour grew late, and colder by the minute. She was not at all certain how loyal Walter was to Margarete, or what arrangement had been made between the two of them. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Walter had taken the fresh horse and headed in a different direction, leaving them to their own fate. Bridgett knew their chances for survival were greatly lessened if they traveled alone. Just as she was about to speak to Margarete, she heard the rustle of grass from the obscure darkness of the countryside. Her head whipped around as she waited for some sign that the intruder was in fact Walter. Warning came in the form of the unsheathing of swords as the metallic sounds punctuated the still night. Before either female could move, the deadly cold of a blade thrust against each unsuspecting female’s neck. “What have we here?” The deep voice of a male rose from the darkness as if disembodied. Both Margarete and Bridgett strained to catch a glimpse of the man who remained hidden from view. The bright moonlight illuminated the bending figures of the two men who held the threatening swords to their necks. Fear gripped Bridgett and her heart thumped frantically in her chest. Her mounting terror reached a new height as the emerging shadow of a tall man strode from the forest. The grayish light showed only part of his face, which was covered by a cloth tied around his mouth and nose. He slowly circled them, his eyes raking over their huddled forms. One lone torch dimly illuminated the circle of five men that loomed like a pack of salivating wolves surrounding two shivering sheep. “’Tis not wise for two women to travel alone in these woods.” His voice was deep and controlled, and hinted at a smile hidden beneath the cloth across his face. He looked down as his black eyes traveled assessingly from Margarete back to Bridgett. Moving to stand over her, he bent to pick up a lock of her blond hair and twisted it around his gloved finger. “Two beautiful women would come in most handy to a group of lonely men.” Bridgett trembled at his reference to their predicament. Terror gripped her as she envisioned being raped by all of these men. The swords pressed to the flesh of their necks made it suicidal to attempt escape for they were severely outnumbered, even if they had been two men. Moving to stand behind her, the leader suddenly grabbed her around the waist and dragged her backwards towards the darkness of the woods. Realizing his intent, Bridgett kicked

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wildly with her feet, as she let out a shriek of fright. The darkly dressed stranger suddenly stopped once in the cover of the wood and threw Bridgett to the ground, pinning her down with very little effort. Lifting her skirts to her waist, he fumbled with the laces on his chausses. Bridgett fought violently as she stared up in wild-eyed terror as the full comprehension of what was about to happen struck her. His huge looming shadow did not reveal any hint of his characteristics as he remained upon his knees while preparing for his invasion. The torchlight from behind illuminated his outline as he slowly raised his head to stare down at her. Reaching with his hand, he tore at the laces on her bodice until her breasts popped out. “No,” she screamed. Quivering, she lashed out at him with her feet. Leaning over her, he pinned her to the ground. With one hand, he began to pinch her nipple. Bridgett thrashed about, futilely trying to fight him off as a he snickered with sinister intent into her ear. She could feel his sex thrusting blindly towards her crotch as she fought with every ounce of her strength to stop his advancement. Tears rolled down the sides of her face as she cried in frustration. The horrible reality of what was happening made her feel helpless and vulnerable. Glaring up into the indiscernible features of her attacker, she saw nothing but the devilish twinkle of his eyes as he stared down into her face. His rasping breath caused his mask to puff out and suck in, yet it never fanned her face. Forcing wider apart her thighs, he prepared to enter her. What cruel irony it was to have made love with Wraith last night, only to be raped by this stranger in a most violent manner tonight. Bridgett let out a shrill cry as she tried in vain to deny his invasion. All hope seemed gone while she gritted her teeth and waited for the painful intrusion. Suddenly, the faint gleam of a blade appeared and slashed across the neck of the man upon her. Blood gushed over her chest from the man’s gaping throat as his gurgling foretold an instantaneous death. Alerted by the strange sounds, the remaining four peered towards the woods. As Walter flung the dead man off Bridgett and helped her to her feet, Margarete leapt up. She quickly unsheathed a hidden dagger and turned to plunge it into the chest of the man at her back. Falling to the ground with a loud thud, Walter stormed out of the thicket with his sword arm raised. Yelling his warning, he slashed his weapon in great arcs as he mowed down another man. Catching one of two lone men off guard, Bridgett crept towards him and kicked him in the groin with all of her might. The man fell to the ground and cursed loudly, writhing in agony. Grabbing the opportunity, Walter loomed over him in a threatening manner, waiting for his violent movements to subside. As his legs kept the man subdued, Walter did not see the last man pick up his fallen comrade’s sword and thrust it into Walter’s shoulder. A shocked expression spread across his face as his eyes and mouth widened. His free hand came up to grasp his shoulder, as blood began to seep between his fingers. The man on the ground struggled to his feet and staggered away into the darkness. Margarete hurried to Walter’s side, guiding him to a sitting position. Blood trickled from under his hand and soaked his tunic. Margarete gazed at Bridgett with a look of confusion on her face. Walter’s head slumped forward against his chest as he lost consciousness, his body crumpling to the ground.

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Chapter Fourteen Wraith strode, with his usual bravado, towards the main castle keep. His mind remained focused on his singular intention of sharing a feast with his beautiful companion. His entire body ached and his muscles screamed for rest as he ascended the main stairs, yet the thought of seeing Bridgett made him impervious to his pains. Swinging open the huge front door, he walked across the main foyer and stifled the smile that threatened to light up his usually somber face. The idea of marrying Bridgett now seemed all but natural as he secretly thrilled at the idea of becoming her husband. His steps became lighter and he envisioned the meal they would share together this very eve. Quickening his pace, he moved up the stairs and made his way to his chambers. After divesting himself of his chain mail, he washed thoroughly and dressed with more care than usual. Tonight he would announce to the entire castle their betrothal. Leaving his chamber, he strode purposefully towards the huge dining hall with exuberance at the mere thought of seeing Bridgett’s lovely face. Rounding the corner, he made his way to the dais, and he spotted Sir Marten and Perrin in the midst of a serious discussion. Both men acknowledged his presence by standing and bowing their heads in respect for their liege lord. Wraith nodded his approval and seated himself at the center of the table. Glancing at Bridgett’s empty chair, his brow crinkled with concern. “I see that Lady Bridgett has not yet arrived for the evening meal. We shall wait for her appearance to begin.” Both men nodded in agreement, resuming their discussion. His announcement would probably come as no surprise to anyone in the castle. After all, her knowledge of herbs had become indispensable to everyone in the castle. Additionally, her cleaning of the castle interior had reflected a splendor that was thought to be long gone. Moreover, her attentiveness to the nightly meal produced pleasant and tasty surprises for all the castle dwellers. However, the most unbelievable change had occurred in him. In the past few weeks, his sour countenance and unchanging mask had been replaced with a now relaxed expression and pleasant attitude. The loyal castle populace secretly thrilled at the thought of their liege committing to his heart’s desire. Wraith continued his discussion with his men-at-arms, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the entrance to the gigantic dining hall. He considered that she might be primping and preparing for this special announcement, so he exercised restraint. As his patience began to wear thin, he drummed his fingers upon the tabletop. Eventually his patience ran out and the hour grew late, yet she still had not appeared for dinner. Rumblings began slowly, increasing in crescendo, all in the dining hall questioned openly the reason for Bridgett’s detainment. With an echoing scrape of the chair legs upon the dais, Wraith pushed away from the table and stood abruptly. Striding towards the entrance, he rounded the corner and took the stairs two at a time as he headed for her chamber. Once again, his murderous mask of intimidation was in place while his warrior instincts jolted him into immediate action. Taking great strides down the hallway, he sped up as though some intrinsic force urged him hurry.

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Upon reaching the door, he flung it open until it slammed forcefully against the wall. The room’s pitch-black darkness was lit only by the tiny square of muted light provided by the open doorway. Grabbing a wall torch from the hallway, he barged back into the unoccupied room. Taking in the room at a single glance, he noticed that she had not been in the room for the entire day. The bed had been made. Her dinner gown lay across it. He knew that Bridgett would have been visible in the castle at some point during the day, yet no one had seen her. Warnings from his soldier instincts told him that something was gravely wrong. Spinning around on his heel, he ran from the room and headed back down the stairs. Her disappearance raised an awareness of impending danger, and he did not need to contemplate the circumstances to know it involved Walter. Bursting through the arched doorway of the dining hall, he roared his displeasure. “Prepare to ride, Lady Bridgett is missing.” Instantly the room became a scene of disarray and commotion as people fled to the chambers, men grabbed weapons, and women openly wept. Men raced through the main hall, stripping an assortment of swords, mace, bolas, and daggers from the walls. Both squires and women carried chain mail to the departing men as they rushed to follow Wraith to the stables. Wraith’s hand touched the familiar hilt of his everpresent black onyx-handled sword as it rested in its scabbard, secured to its master’s belt. Hearing the commotion, Agnes raced from the kitchen to stand directly in front of him. Skidding to a halt, he glared down into her concerned features. “Milord, ‘tis Walter, he has your ladyship.” Immediately his expression softened slightly as he listened. “What say you, Agnes? What do you know of her ladyship?” He purposely kept his voice low as his full attention was now angled down, pinning her with a frantic stare. “Aye, Walter was seen early this morn, before the cock crowed, sneaking through my kitchen. Amicia was kneading bread when she saw him. A short while later he snuck back through towards the knight’s quarters.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she looked up into his eyes. “I did not think to say anything about it, milord.” He hugged her to his chest tightly. “Tis not your fault, Agnes, how were you to know Walter was up to no good?” Slowly releasing her, he spun around and exited the door towards the lower bailey. Agnes reconfirmed his suspicions about the strange activities surrounding Walter. He should have pursued his nagging feelings and confronted him with harsh questioning. None of this would have transpired had he followed his head instead of his heart. He wasted no time as he ran into the stables and headed for his destrier. His men followed on his heels as dust clouds rose from the thundering army racing through the castle’s inner paths. The noise was deafening as men yelled commands, horses whinnied, and chain mail and weaponry clanged. The garrisons of knights stormed from the stable area over the drawbridge, with Wraith instructing several of his men to head towards his other castle holdings. He fully expected an allout war to commence once they reached Conwy and he wanted every available soldier armed and ready for warfare by the time they reached the castle. He knew Walter had a full day’s head start on him, yet he also knew that his army could easily overtake one woman and one man. He yelled instructions to Sir de Marten to secure supplies for the building of belfrys, trebuckets, and battering rams, should the need arise once they arrived. He planned to take the swiftest men initially, as a means of overtaking Walter and

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Bridgett, possibly eliminating the need for warfare at all. He did not relish the idea of hand-tohand combat with the butcher, since undoubtedly many lives would be lost in the altercation. His temper flared and he silently pondered his stupidity for not acting on his instincts to protect Bridgett. He had been distrustful of Walter ever since the young man had vanished for days at a time. His frustration steadily grew as he visualized Bridgett’s fate at the hands of a furious Lothar. He, better than anyone, knew the wrath of the unpredictable man and shuddered to think what might befall her if she should end up at his disposal. If it were not for her usefulness to him, she would most likely meet an extremely slow and painful death. Upon leaving the bustling stable area, Wraith maneuvered his destrier directly below the barbican. Adjusting his weaponry, he gazed up towards the crenellated wall and roared. “Dermot!” Immediately, the loyal Scotsman leaned out over the side as he recognized his liege’s voice. “Who passed through these gates this morning?” Tension made his teeth clench and his blood pump. “None but a feeble, old biddy with a rotting corpse, in a rickety cart, your lordship.” Wraith suddenly realized that Walter had an accomplice. “Are you certain ‘twas a female, Dermot?” He would bet his horse that the female was most likely Margarete, yet he had to be sure. Word around the castle was that the two had been seen together quite often. “Even though a cloak covered most of the body, I couldn’t miss the breasts, milord.” Dermot nodded his head vigorously as he continued to gaze down at Wraith. Wraith silently berated himself again, for it was just as he had thought, while he was teaching young knights to carve up their enemies during the long day, Bridgett was being whisked backed to Wales and Lothar’s temper. He had intentionally taken the strongest knights on the swiftest horses, to intercept the threesome before they reached the Welch border. If they were unsuccessful in overtaking them, he had two days time to formulate battle plans before they reached Conwy. He prayed this could be avoided and Bridgett could be brought back to the safety of his arms. **** Margarete muttered absentmindedly to herself, huddling over Walter’s quiet form. She had not the faintest idea what to do to help him in his grave condition. Bridgett, on the other hand, bristled with anger as she knelt by the wounded squire, unable to do anything with her arms bound tightly to her sides. “For the love of St. Frances, Margarete, release me so that I may aid him.” Bridgett’s frustration had reached the boiling point and she could not sit by and watch the man die. Mindless with the shock of what had happened to him, she slowly turned her head with an expression of stark confusion veiling her face. Bridgett huffed with disgust as her nostrils flared in futility. “For God sakes you ninny, untie me so I can administer my potions and save his life.” Her commanding tone finally brought Margarete out of her stupor and she knelt to release her. Mindful that her bodice hung completely open from the mauling she had received, Bridgett quickly tied the remaining laces before setting to work on Walter. Her gaze wandered down to Walter’s life running over the surrounding ground like a red stream. Reaching under her skirt, she tore away a substantial piece of her chemise and pressed it tightly against Walter’s bleeding wound. As she did so, she loosened the satchel of herbs with her remaining hand and

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selected Comfrey to press into the wound. Tearing away another piece of her undergarment, she wrapped it tightly around his shoulder to staunch the bleeding. She prayed that he would not succumb to his injuries. He did not deserve to die for his heroism. Additionally, if they were to lose his protection, they would be very vulnerable to all manners of danger. Her thoughts drifted to Wraith. Mayhap he had discovered her missing and was pursuing them even now. On the other hand, mayhap, he would not deem her worthy of risking his men’s lives. Either way, she would use this opportunity to prolong their stay for as long as possible. “Margarete, we need a fire, Walter has lost a great deal of blood and needs the warmth.” Margarete stared back, but said nothing. Without waiting for her permission, Bridgett rose and began to gather twigs and branches to aid the pyre. She retrieved a flint from her boot and lit a small fire. The warm glow reflected on the faces of the two women as they sat in silence. Walter lay on his side with a blanket thrown over his body to preserve his body heat. Bridgett went often to Walter as she inspected the wound for blood flow. She would again apply her herbal remedy, pressing it into the injury. She monitored his status as she lifted his eyelids and felt his skin for fever. When she was satisfied, she reached towards the fire as she warmed her hands. The night grew progressively colder and an eerie mist slowly crept to envelope the three figures. The two females watched, their breath floating into the black night, making them edge closer to the soothing warmth of the crackling fire. Margarete had been staring into the flames when she suddenly spoke. “We can not remain here. They are bound to catch us if we do.” Bridgett tried to compose herself as she calmly answered. “’Tis not wise to move him yet, Margarete. We will do naught but kill him if we bounce him around in that cart.” Her deceptively calm demeanor simply agitated Margarete, as she jumped up and waved her dagger in Bridgett’s face for emphasis. “I will not allow you to delay us any longer, Bridgett.” “What if Walter perishes, Margarete? What is to become of us?” Her last effort to negotiate with Margarete was failing miserably. Margarete glanced at the unmoving squire, then met Bridgett’s gaze. “Very well, we will depart in a few hours.” The biting, bitter cold of the wind probably aided in her decision to remain where they were. The two women curled up on either side of Walter and succumbed to exhaustion. Waking suddenly a short time later, Bridgett’s eyes flew open and she glanced at the fire’s dying glow. The wind whistled through the skeletal-like branches of the near-naked trees and leaves skittered across the ground like tiny creatures in the night. One lone barn owl hooted in the distance. Raising her head cautiously, Bridgett watched for any movement from Margarete. Observing the steady rise and fall of her chest, she became convinced that the woman was finally asleep. Moving with catlike stealth, Bridgett slid from her prone position to a sitting one. Not taking her eyes off her captor, she slowly stood and began to slink away into the surrounding darkness. Just as she had almost reached the obscurity of the forest foliage, firm hands grabbed her from behind. She released a small yelp from the surprise.. “You do not think to escape, do you Bridgett?” A silken voice whispered close to her ear as the sharp tip of Margarete’s dagger pressed into her ribs. Too late, she realized it would not be easy to escape from Margarete. She would need to plan her escape more thoughtfully.

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Margarete shoved her towards the dim fire and indicated with her weapon that she wished her to sit. Bridgett knelt beside Walter and felt for a pulse. Thankfully, he had not perished, but only slept. She turned to face the tiny orange pile of dying embers and let her gaze move to Margarete. She met her eyes as she tossed a loose rope at her. “Tie yon leg to Walter’s. We will rest only until the sun begins to rise, then we will depart anon. You shall remain lashed to him for the remainder of the journey, that way I can keep an eye on you.” He did not move a muscle as she tied her leg to his, then settled next to him to rest until daybreak. Undoubtedly, she drifted off, for when she opened her eyes slivers of morning sunlight knifed through the forest branches. A heavy mist hung in the air and dew covered everything. Autumn was in its infancy, and as they traveled farther north they could be sure that each successive evening would be colder than the last. Bridgett sat up and rubbed her arms with her hands, her teeth chattered involuntarily. Margarete moved slowly and sat up to the same greeting. Bridgett’s stomach rumbled from hunger, yet she knew she could not count on any humane treatment from Margarete. She suddenly wished now that she had taken the pitiful scraps that Margarete had offered her yesterday. Food however, was a secondary issue. Her primary concern was escape. She would need to observe Margarete very closely today while waiting for an opportunity to make good her escape. She was fairly certain the herbs she had planted into Walter’s wound would carry him through until he reached help. It was her own well-being that was in real jeopardy. Rising stiffly, Margarete brushed off her skirt and wrapped her arms around her middle. “’Tis time to depart.” Heading toward the edge of the clearing where Walter had tethered the horse, she harnessed it to the cart. Turning towards Bridgett, she met her gaze with disturbing directness. “Help me move him, quickly. I have no desire to face Lord Wraith this morn. Untie your leg only until he is in the cart.” Bridgett took her time performing the simple task, for she would like nothing more than to meet Wraith this morn. She had run out of ideas to stall Margarete, for now her time had expired. She knew she could not subdue Margarete without risking injury to herself. As Margarete grabbed Walter’s wrists, Bridgett grabbed his knees and they carefully moved him to the back of the cart. “Tie yon leg to Walter’s again, I don’t even trust you to relieve yourself in the wood.” Hours dragged by as Bridgett rested her head against the back of the bumping, twowheeled cart. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about what lie ahead. The welcoming rays of the sun began to warm the air slowly as the pale yellow sphere rose above the spindly trees. Bridgett’s mind once again raced quickly with ideas involving her escape. She suddenly considered choking Margarete by looping her arm around her throat from behind until she passed out. The knowledge of the concealed dagger strapped to her ankle discouraged her for a while. Yet, it seemed the only viable option left. She had contemplated the notion that she could untie herself from Walter, leap from the cart undetected and flee. However, the fall from the moving cart may very well injure or break a limb. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and untied her leg from Walter’s. Getting to her knees, she grabbed the cloth that had bound them and grasped it in both hands. Her heart thumped her chest and her blood pumped. Rising up, she quickly looped the rag around

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Margarete’s neck and pulled back with all her might. Instantly her hands covered Bridgett’s in an attempt to free herself as she grasped and clawed furiously. In her frantic movements, she dropped the reins to concentrate on the task of breathing. Bridgett yanked tightly against her neck as she tried to prevent any air from entering Margarete’s lungs. Tiny gasps sounded as she struggled to free herself with twisting movements. Bridgett was relentless as she strained to pull Margarete’s head back towards her in an effort to render her unconscious. Her arms ached and her hands trembled from the effort, but eventually she was rewarded as Margarete slumped to one side of the seat. Carefully, Bridgett leaned forward, grabbed the reins, and slowed the horse to a stop. Jumping from the back of the cart, she raced towards the woods and entered the thickly wooded area. Crunching leaves echoed throughout the forest as she bent and swerved around overhanging branches. She kept moving, looking behind her for her captor’s pursuit. Branches returned to their former position once she passed through the overgrown path. Stopping, she heard nothing but her own gasping breaths and a few twittering birds at the treetops above her head. Feeling confident enough to continue, she began to walk again as she shielded her face from the foliage around her. Suddenly, without warning, a body slammed into her throwing her face forward to the ground. She sputtered from the leaves and dirt on her face, and lifted her head. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” The nasty, grating voice from her back surprised her. “Did you think to kill me, you stupid bitch?” In a cruel reversal of position, Margarete threw her arm around Bridgett’s neck and choked her to almost unconsciousness. Coughing and gagging, Bridgett grabbed at the arm without success. The weight of the girl upon her back prevented her from moving away as she tried to escape in vain. As blackness descended and stars floated before her eyes, Margarete released her hold. “Get up, we have wasted enough time.” Dragging her to her feet, she shoved her into action. Periodically, she would jab Bridgett with the tip of her dagger to keep her moving. Reaching the road, they walked towards the cart and saw Walter, as he lay still asleep. Grabbing a few pieces of cloth, Margarete bound Bridgett’s hands and then her feet together. Then shoving her into the back of the cart, she pushed her alongside Walter. Climbing into the driver’s seat, she flapped the reins in an attempt to move the exhausted horse. Hours passed and the cart rumbled along the dusty road towards Conwy. The clopping of the horse’s hooves became hypnotic and Bridgett dozed fitfully from boredom. After several hours of inactivity, she shifted her body to prevent body parts from going numb. They traveled until the sun disappeared and the moon rose to cast an eerie glow to surrounding trees. Again, as the previous night, they stopped at a clearing of forest to make their beds. This time Margarete did not hesitate to build a small fire for warmth. The harshness of the evening air had convinced her that comfort would win out this eve. Margarete untied Bridgett long enough to have her help remove Walter from the cart, then she retied her hands and feet. Walking up to her, she shoved a stale piece of bread between her lips before going to seat herself before the fire. With ravenous disregard, Bridgett stuffed the entire thing into her mouth as she savored the tiny pleasure. The small morsel would do little to quiet her increasingly noisy stomach, but it would serve its purpose of keeping her alive long enough to reach Conwy. The night passed with agonizing slowness, and the sun rose again to blanket the foggy woods with the welcoming rays of the sun. Two days had passed and there had been no sign of Wraith or his troops. Bridgett hoped and prayed that Wraith was not following her. The closer

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they got to Conwy, the more dangerous it became for him. The thought that she may never again see him, filled her eyes with tears. Wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands, she concentrated on a plan of escape. She was running out of time, soon nothing would be able to keep her from Lothar’s cruelty. The morning stretched into late afternoon and Margarete had for the most part ignored Bridgett as she drove with unrelenting purpose towards northern Wales. She seemed almost possessed by some demonic force that pushed her to continue. What could Lothar had offered her that was so enticing? Bridgett’s stomach grumbled loudly and she needed to attend to personal matters. “Margarete, I need to use the wood.” “You shall wait until we stop for the night.” Her tone was biting and unconcerned. The wind grew chillier as the sun slipped behind the bordering trees. Shadows elongated as the night’s darkness would again soon be upon them. Leaning over Walter, Bridgett checked him and was pleased to discover that he remained without a fever, yet had not awakened. Positioning her back against the front of the cart, she listened to the laboring horse as it heaved and snorted from exertion. It would not be long until the animal collapsed, perhaps giving her another chance to escape. Another hour passed and darkness was nearly fully upon them, Bridgett closed her eyes and rested. Listening, she thought she heard a shrill cry from somewhere in the distance. Opening her eyes, she scanned the moonlit landscape to investigate. The fall moon slashed through the tall, bare branches of the bordering trees, making them appear like boney fingers waiting to capture the fleeing trio. Settling back, she again heard the unmistakable howl of a wild wolf. Her heart began to thump frantically as more cries joined the first, until a chorus of howling and yelping seemed to be directly behind them. Straining to see through the hazy dust clouds that vanished into the dark void behind them, Bridgett’s senses remained on high alert as she peered into the black of the night. The full moon cast a grayish hue to the treetops and a minimal portion of the road behind them. Beyond that, the path wound into a black abyss into which Bridgett could make out no forms. Panic consumed her as she began to visualize the grey and black muzzles of the pursuing predators through the billowing dust clouds. “Margarete, wolves are almost upon us, you must make the horse go faster,” she screamed. Her frantic pleas seemed to be swallowed up by the speeding wind that rushed back to carry her voice behind them. Bridgett’s eyes widened as she watched the wolves long strides easily bring them alongside the cart. Moving towards the horse, their jaws snapped with viscous intent at the rear legs of the pathetically animal. Sheer terror urged the fatigued horse to run as its ears flicked back and forth in panic. Its sides heaved and it pumped its legs in an attempt to outrun the wolves. The snarling animals continued to nip and snap at the legs of the horse, the air crackled with the hunt for blood. Sensing its imminent demise, the frightened horse screamed a hellish equine shriek as if begging for help. Trying in vain to evade the persistent pack of hungry wolves that tore at its legs, it pranced about in a lunatic manner as it attempted to distance itself from them. Blood began to appear from the gashes on its hide as it stumbled and tried repeatedly to continue. The hi-pitched screams tore at Bridgett’s heart as it pleaded for any salvation to end its torture. Yet she was powerless to help and in fact wondered if they would follow the horse’s fate

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as part of the wolves’ evening meal. There was nothing to do but wait until it thankfully perished. Margarete let go of the reins as she watched the horrifying spectacle taking place. Bridgett’s eyes filled with tears as she realized the outcome of the shocking scene. Panic overwhelmed her and she prepared to witness the mutilating death of the doomed horse. The pack had surrounded the terrorized animal and one wolf had leapt onto its back as it tried to bring it down. The pack had all but subdued the tortured animal, when one lone wolf suddenly fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from its side. Another followed the first, as arrows began to whiz through the air with deadly accuracy until all the wolves lay dead. The silence created an almost rumble in its stillness as the horrific scene seemed to change in a matter of seconds. The deranged animal had managed to get to its feet as it tossed its head in wild-eyed terror. The two women looked around for the source of their redemption, when they saw a garrison of knights emerge from the dark road ahead. The all-too familiar crest upon their shields instantly turned joy into another bout of fear. The de Griffyth colors of blue and gold clearly declared their allegiance and she had to wonder if she would have been better off facing the pack of wolves. . She had not realized, until now, that they had already traveled into Wales and were now on fief land that was the property of her family. Despair enveloped her, for she realized she was now the prisoner of her maniacal brother. Yet, death seemed a welcome visitor, rather than the prospect of her life without Wraith.

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Chapter Fifteen Bridgett sat dejectedly before a mounted knight as they made their way towards Conwy Castle. With wrists bound tightly, she raised her eyes to see the approaching outline of the castle that sat like a gigantic dragon lying in wait to open its mouth and swallow her whole. The town gate came into view, guarded by two of its majestic wall towers. The rising sun outlined the commanding castle with its twenty-one mural towers along its length, the banners waving atop the walls displaying a gold lion’s head on a blue background, the colors of the house of de Griffyth.. Bridgett’s heart ached with despair at the thought of never seeing Wraith again. Yet, she felt a calming effect in the knowledge that he was safe from her brother. Her hopes that Wraith would rescue her turned to relief that he had not attempted such a dangerous feat. The knights looked weary and seemed as though they had traveled all night. Why would they happen to be right in the correct place to safe them from the wolf attack? Her suspicion led her to believe that Margarete had bargained with her brother in this scheme. Approaching the looming structure, curious wall sentries peered down at the group as they passed through the gatehouse and into the confines of the castle town walls. Throngs of merchants and castle town dwellers busily attending to morning chores and activities stopped to gaze with curiosity at the early morning arrivals. Bridgett’s eyes scanned crowd, and was met by looks of pity and sadness. She understood their existence and they hers, the mutual understanding and respect transcended through the air. Women openly wept and hugged their children while men had difficulty meeting her gaze. Their faces mirrored their compassion as they watched in hushed silence. More people emerged as word spread of Bridgett’s arrival. The swelling crowd began to follow the legion of mounted men and two women as they wound their way through the streets to the main castle keep. The castle held no fond memories for Bridgett, even though she had known no other home in her entire lifetime. Her parent’s mysterious deaths remained a painful reminder of her altered life. Her grieving had turned to despair while her brother was transformed into a devious and controlling ruler. No longer was he her sibling but the keeper of her entire life. She had watched him take over all land within reach, giving no leniency to the fiefs and landowners who could not keep up with his demands. He would routinely kill and torture anyone who would not declare allegiance to his sovereignty. Her mind returned to the present as the horse stopped just in front of the main keep and Bridgett knew her time on earth was short. She would face the man who was her own flesh and blood, yet oddly, she felt no affection for. The knight behind her reined the horse to a stop and passed her down to another, who pulled her towards the steps. Margarete scurried along behind, and Bridgett was forced up the steps towards the entrance to the huge hall. Passing through the doors she had passed through a thousand times, they seemed strangely cold and menacing. No welcoming sensations radiated from the hall as she stepped into it, but an odd foreboding of callous and unscrupulous events yet to come.

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She was dragged, bound, into the main meeting hall, where a roaring fire provided the only source of light. Perched before the flames in a huge cushioned chair, sat her brother. Upon hearing the approaching footsteps, his head turned until his blue eyes pinned her with frightening directness. Blue eyes, so like her own, yet so very different in every way. By the expression on his face, the fact that they shared the same blood was of no consequence. Lothar stood as she approached and crossed his arms over his broad chest in a supreme gesture of annoyance. A lock of blond hair fell over one eye as he cocked his head. “So, you have returned, dear sister.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “Not by my own choice, I assure you,” she returned bravely. His head straightened as he absorbed her brazen retort. Slowly his arms returned to his sides as he began to circle her, as a wolf would encircle its intended meal. Standing directly before her, his eyes bore down and through her and his jaw clenched with suppressed anger. Suddenly, with lightening speed, he swung his arm towards her face until it connected with a sickening slap that sent her flying across the room. She was lifted off the floor and continued to slide until she slammed up against a neighboring wall. Gasps reverberated throughout the voluminous room, as they seemed shocked to witness brutality to this woman. With legs braced slightly apart, nostrils flaring, his hands clenching and unclenching with his obvious agitation, Lothar mirrored supreme hostility. Bridgett composed herself and gained her feet, even with arms still bound. Proudly she walked until she again stood directly before her fuming brother. He stared down into her eyes with a glassy look of hatred, his breathing rasped through clenched teeth, his chest expanded with each agitated breath. Bridgett prepared herself for another slap, yet was pleasantly surprised when it did not occur. “I suppose he soiled you, you little slut,” he grated vengefully. “Nay, I willingly gave him my heart and my body, Lothar.” Her bravery was obviously taking its toll, for his eyes turned to slits and his teeth clenched harder. “It matters not. You are of no use to me anymore, for even if I handed you to your betrothed, he is far beyond the age of caring or acting upon such urges, sister.” He smiled wickedly with delight in his spiteful response. Bridgett’s chin rose defiantly as she stared up into his eyes. Weeks ago, his actions and threats would have shaken her immensely, causing her to tremble with fright. However, her time away had not been spent in the company of a mere mortal, but with that of a powerful warrior. A man who had survived a tragic background and a loveless life yet rose above his adversity to become the most powerful baron and knight in all of England and Wales. He was a god to his people and to his men. Wraith would never cower or grovel to anyone, particularly Lothar. Even as he was beaten to the brink of death, he accepted his fate as a true warrior does, with pride and honor. She would now emulate the man she had gained such tremendous respect for, right down to her death, if necessary. If she gained nothing more from her time with Wraith, she would take with her the dignity of self-respect. Seeing the challenging look in her eye, Lothar motioned to the guards with a wave of his arm, as he dismissed her from his presence as easily as one would shoo an annoying insect. “Take her to the tower. Chain her to the wall,” he roared. “Then we will plan the destruction of Exeter and its ruler.” Margarete rushed forward to protest, as she grabbed his arm and screamed at him. “Nay milord, ‘twas not part of the bargain. You gave me your word no harm would befall Lord Wraith.” Her stunned expression disclosed the realization of her mistake in trusting him.

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Turning, he glared down as his face took on a demonic look. “I do as I please, and it pleases me to destroy Wraith and all who are loyal to him.” Throwing back his head, he laughed with cruel lunacy. With her arms pinned back by a knight, Margarete struggled, hissing and kicking at him. “You made a deal not to harm his lordship if I returned your sister to you.” Margarete yelled with frustration. “I can not be trusted,” purred Lothar as a crooked smile etched his face. His laugh started as a small snicker and evolved into an uproarious laugh. “Take her away and throw her outside the main gates to the city.” Margarete’s expression reflected her horror, and her mouth hung open in disbelief. “What ‘tis to become of me? I will die out there alone, you can not do this!” Her yells continued as they became quieter the farther away she got, until she was heard no more. Bridgett quietly watched the spectacle and almost had to suppress the urge to shake her head with understanding. She had tried to warn Margarete not to trust her brother. As she was led away, Bridgett caught a glimpse of Sir Michel standing commandingly by Lothar’s side. The huge man made eye contact briefly, then moved his eyes to stare straight ahead. Bridgett’s feet barely touched the stone steps as she was dragged up the cold, dim, spiral to the tower room of which she was very familiar. The accompanying knights strode through the door, pulling her to an adjacent wall. They plopped her upon the straw bed and placed a manacle around one ankle, chaining her to the wall. She was more than a little familiar with this room, since she had resided in it her entire life. It had become her prison shortly after her parents died, as it had become evident to Lothar that her beauty was a bargaining chip with which he could make use. She knew also from experience that a drop from the tower window would most likely kill anyone attempting escape or entry. The cold clank of the chain length upon the floor brought a tear to Bridgett’s eye, and she watched one of the knights test the link’s strength before turning to leave. The hopelessness of the situation suddenly seemed all too real to her. Her despair grew rapidly, she realized her brother was waging a murderous assault on Wraith and his troops. The heavy wooden door slammed shut with finality, leaving her alone in total darkness with her thoughts, and fear for the man she had come to love more than life itself.

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Chapter Sixteen Wraith sat with his back against the rough bark of an ash tree planning his strategy for their arrival at Conwy. Absentmindedly he munched on a piece of crusty bread letting his mind race through the plans he and Perrin had devised even before their departure from Exeter. He ran his fingers through his thick hair, expelling a huge sigh. He was only minimally comforted by the thought that Bridgett had been abducted rather than killed. If it had been Lothar’s plan to kill her, it would have already taken place at Exeter. Yet he shuddered to think what might befall Bridgett in the wake of Lother’s fury, perhaps death was the sweeter of the two alternatives. Wraith had pushed his troops throughout most of the night, his troops thundering towards the border of Wales and a territory he had hoped never to set foot upon again in his lifetime. However, he now returned not even a month later with no hesitations whatsoever to save the woman he loved. “Perrin, think you we have sufficient manpower to circle Conwy’s walls while I take men into her bowels?” Even though many garrisons of men had come from his other castle holdings to amass a virtual army, Wraith knew he would need a monumental force capable of pummeling Conwy from all sides, if necessary. “The problem, Perrin, is that Conwy possesses a tremendous perimeter, making it almost impossible to weaken all sides simultaneously. How are we to accomplish this without thinning our own troops to ineffectual sizes?” “’Tis possible, milord, that because of its tremendous size we have the advantage in this attack. I shall barrage their miles of walls with trebuchet hits and arrows while you rescue Bridgett. Exeter is far superior in the construction of its walls to Conwy, milord. Look at how many hits her walls endured and stood upright. Conwy’s walls are thinner, made simply of rough-cut stone with an earthen core. We shall batter them to pieces, milord, and we shall keep them very busy.” Perrin offered Wraith a brotherly pound on the back obviously meant to comfort him. Wraith was bolstered by Perrin’s confidence and level headedness, for he needed a voice of reason to aid in his decisions. He knew that what Perrin said was true, since they could not launch an overwhelming attack over such a lengthy curtain wall simultaneously, they did wield a battery of powerful siege machines capable of knocking down the walls and gates. The morning sun sliced through the bare tree branches, continuing to burn away the mist that had shrouded the land the night before. Wraith allowed his men to dismount and gain nourishment and a hurried nap before forging ahead to the Welsh castle. He wanted their wits sharp and their bodies rested for the battles that lie ahead. He hoped it would not come to that though, for the loss of life would be great and needless and he planned to use a third option to breech the castle first. He knew his men did not question his authority or motives and would follow him into the very flames of hell if asked to. Nevertheless, he had no desire to wage an allout war with Lothar. He only wished to retrieve his bride. Glancing around, he watched several men reclining against trees and rocks, while others lay upon the ground sleeping quietly. His head began to tip forward, awakening him sharply as his chin touched his chest. Feeling that he must have dozed, he opened his eyes to a bright afternoon sun that would soon end, and he stood abruptly. Issuing a sharp whistle of alert, his

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men stood and prepared their mounts for departure. Within minutes, they were once again racing through the peaceful countryside towards Castle Conwy. Wraith realized that for the first time in his life it was not his head that guided his plan of attack, but his heart. **** The hours dragged interminably for Bridgett as she lay upon the straw bed, her tortured thoughts invading her restless mind. Fear gripped her while she visualized the bloodbath and butchery that would occur if these two warring armies came together. She needed to think of some way to divert this from happening, but how? Sitting up suddenly, she rubbed her temples with her fingers, concentrating on formulating a plan. She stared down at the untouched trencher of food. She had no desire to eat, for her mind reeled with the actions and consequences of her disappearance. Her stomach lurched from her frazzled nerves and she twisted her skirt in a tense grip. One lone tear slipped down her cheek and she angrily wiped it away, vowing not to collapse under Lothar’s pressure. Just as she was on the verge of losing her composure, a tiny tapping came from her door. The heavy wooden portal slowly opened with a creak, spreading a large swath of torchlight that instantly bathed the darkened section of floor and bed with a pale yellow hue. Bridgett squinted against the unexpected brightness, shielding her eyes in an attempt to see her intruder. Her own gasp caught her off guard as she stared with shock at the figure in the doorway. The huge male figure stood silhouetted in the hallway light, his legs braced apart, arms at his sides. The width of the shoulders, the breadth of the chest, the long muscular legs mirrored a similar vision she had witnessed only a few nights ago in her bedchamber. The light source at his back left his front in blackness, yet she suddenly recognized whom he was. “Lady Bridgett.” The soft, deep voice of Sir Michel confirmed her startling discovery. “Aye, Sir Michel, I am here.” She stared up at the emerging knight and marveled at the fact that she had not realized who he was before now. “’Tis time we speak.” Grabbing the wall torch, he closed the door and entered the room. Generous light followed him as long strides carried him to stand in front of her. From his great height, his eyes appeared as slits as he stared down at her. The same strong, handsome features, the same thick, black hair, with only a few gray streaks at the temples to distinguish his maturity. “You are his father, are you naught?” His eyes closed, his head dipped, and he released a long sigh. “Aye, I am.” Pulling over the lone chair in the room, he sat looking down at her with a serious expression masking his face. Silently they sat, studying each other, as if they had never really seen each other before. Her eyes searched his face and roamed his body, delighting in the familiarity of similarities between father and son.. His body retained the look of a well-trained knight who was still in the prime of life, a pleasant look into the future of what Wraith would someday look like. She noticed the differences as well, for they were startlingly clear to her. Sir Michel had gray eyes, not the shocking green that Wraith possessed. Eyes that could pierce right through her. In addition, Sir Michel did not possess the raw, virile, commanding power that radiated from Wraith. His difficult existence had honed him into a leader, an invincible warrior who could not let defeat befall him. “’Tis time the truth was told.” Slowly he reached inside his tunic to produce a cloth square wrapped around an object. Reaching out, he offered it to her, waiting for her to take it from him.

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She stared at it hesitantly, then took the object and placed it in her lap. With trembling fingers, she unfolded the faded material until it revealed a memento long thought lost. Shaking with nervous emotion, she picked up the valuable medallion that had been around her father’s neck the day he died. The jeweled eyes of the lion’s head glinted back at her as her mouth fell open in shock. Wordlessly, she lifted her head, her eyes seeking his in pleading confusion. “Ten years ago I began my service to you and your brother. In that time I have witnessed many strange things, yet have remained silent.” He turned to straddle the chair as he rested his arms along the back, his eyes intently staring back. “Your brother’s methods of leadership are brutal, and he has done nothing to gain the loyalty of his people or his knights. He has taken property not entitled to him, he has brutalized and tortured men who wished to rebel against him. These things sickened me but I could not question them, yet they raised my suspicions.” He stood at this point and clasped his hands behind his back as he slowly paced before her. “I knew your parents had been killed just prior to my arrival. ‘Twas the reason I came in the first place. I knew that two children were incapable of running manors and properties the size of which Lothar inherited. I knew also that you would welcome the wisdom, strength, and guidance of a knight recently returned from a crusade. Yet, I too, questioned the mysteries surrounding the death of your parents. My curiosity grew, until one day an opportunity presented itself for me to assuage my deep doubts. While in Lothar’s solar, presumably to get needed paperwork, I came upon a tiny wooden chest that had been left unlocked. Peering inside I saw the cloth you now hold in your hand. As soon as I unfolded it, I knew from your repeated telling, that this indeed was the missing medallion that Garin de Griffyth wore around his neck the day he died. I vowed to someday return it to the proper heir of the House of Griffyth. I returned the medallion to the chest but rigged the lock so that I could access it whenever necessary.” Bridgett stared at him in disbelief, her mouth still hanging agape. The enormity of his implications was staggering and she could scarcely force herself to accept what he was saying. “What are you telling me, Sir Michel?” she murmured, shakily covering her mouth with her hand. Loathe as she was to admit it, her brother was a maniacal tyrant driven to gain all at any expense. She had been nothing more than a convenient method for him to attain more riches and land. “Aye, he had them killed, Lady Bridgett. I am sorry, if I had been there, I would have stopped him.” Kneeling before her on one knee, he tenderly took her hands into his and met her gaze. “I want you to know that I always watched out for you. I would not have let him harm you in any way.” She had started to interrupt when he continued to speak. “I know how he treated you; the holes in your shoes, the shabby commoner’s dresses you wear, and this tower room for your quarters. These things I tolerated because you are so strong, you never let him break your spirit. However, when he began to betroth you to aged men for the sake of money, I was ready to take you away. Thankfully, they all perished from old age before that became necessary.” He moved closer as he gently squeezed her hands in an affectionate hold. “Tonight, I was livid inside, Lady Bridgett. ‘Twas all I could do not to unsheathe my sword and run him through. He had never beaten you before, yet he did so in front of the entire castle.” The sincerity in his face made her heart ache, for his pity and love for her was now evident.

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“I was never more proud of you than I was tonight, Lady Bridgett. Your bravery far exceeded anything I ever thought you capable of before.” Bridgett smiled at him, gently placing her hand upon his shoulder. “’Tis because of your son that I am who I am today. I know you are aware of his powerful reputation, and that he is strong, brave, and invincible. However, you do not know the man beneath the armor. The first time I laid eyes upon him, he was near death in Lothar’s dungeon. I could not let my brother kill him, Sir Michel, I felt compelled to save such an honorable man, even if it meant my own death. As we traveled to his castle, everything he did exuded power, strength, respect, and honor. His men are devoted to him, and the people of his castle truly love him.” Sir Michel had retaken his seat to listen. “I made it my mission to discover his innermost feelings, to remove his armor to view the real Wraith. I deluged him with smiles, caring, and tenderness, qualities he was not accustomed to. I wore him down in my own clumsy way until he started to succumb to my attentions. Eventually, he could no longer deny his attraction to me, as I had let him know my feelings many times. We are in love, Sir Michel, and had planned to wed.” Grasping her hands again, he gave her a reassuring smile. “May I ask you a question, sir knight?” She bit her lower lip, bracing herself for his response. “Certainly, milady.” His eyes widened as they searched her face. “Why did you never confront Wraith, Sir?” His gaze dropped as he exhaled a long sigh. “I thought him truly better off with Sir de Marten, milady. So great was my despair and anger, I did not trust myself to be fair to the lad. I thought that if I went to him he would want to be with me, and I was not willing to have that.” His eyes had risen again to meet hers, his lips taking on a hard line. “I know now I erred in leaving him at such a young age and never returning to see him. Silently I watched his fame grow as his reputation was heralded throughout the land. I know of his great exploits and bravery, tales of his heroism and skill are legendary. I thought he would reject me then, for having shown up in his life when he was already a renowned knight and powerful baron.” Bridgett could see his misery by the pain that filled his face. “Then when Lothar imprisoned and beat him, I was repeatedly tempted to go to him.” “Why did you not, it would have given him hope.” Bridgett’s eyes misted with emotion. “’Twas too late, Lady Bridgett. I felt that his anger and hatred would serve no purpose in his present state. I myself had formulated a plan to free him, but you got there before me.” “And now I have a question for you, milady.” She nodded slowly. “Why did you gasp when I opened your door tonight? Did you think I was Lothar come to kill you?” His voice trailed off, taking on a compassionate quality. “From the moment you stood in the doorway, ‘twas like looking at Wraith himself. Now that I know your son, there is no question you are his father.” She smiled at him. “I have regretted my actions for the last ten years, milady. Now I shall make amends by setting straight all that has been wrong.” He reached out his hand to touch her bruised jaw. “And I swear to you on the knight’s code of honor that Lothar will never touch you again.”

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She smiled again, placing her hand atop his. He stood abruptly to tower over her while staring down, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Do not fear, milady, there are a great many dissidents within these walls who wait for the chance to revolt against your brother. I need only spread the word and I can amass an army in very little time. I will return when ‘tis time to release you, milady. Until then rest and prepare yourself for a quick departure.” Looking down at the precious medallion she hugged to her bosom, his eyes rose to meet hers. “Keep it safe, Lady Bridgett. ‘Tis rightfully yours now, keep it hidden until I return for you. ‘Twill not be long.” A solitary tear slipped down her cheek as she thought about her parents. So young, so full of ambition and love for one another, only to be brutally murdered by their own son. She would pass the medallion to the son she would give Wraith, for any son who came from the loins of a man such as Wraith was destined to be great.

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Chapter Seventeen Darkness concealed the countryside and a heavy mist veiled the army, giving the knights and their steeds an almost mythological appearance. They emerged from the edge of obscurity in the shadowed forest, cloaked in armor and chain mail as the ghostly light of the full moon barely outlined the huge destriers and their riders in the night air. The arduous trek made the formidable beast’s breath visible, and mist emanating from their warm bodies floated eerily around each horse and rider. Staying in the shadows of the fringe of trees, they awaited orders from their liege while he surveyed the looming curtain wall a short distance away. Wraith’s eyes scanned the tops of wall walk for the silhouetted shapes of the guards who would be patrolling the perimeter. Turning in his saddle to face Perrin, Wraith could not hide his confusion. “Perrin, ‘tis puzzling, do you see any sentries upon the walls? I am certain ‘tis the spot where we made our escape.” He again turned to face the intimidating fortification. Silence descended, broken only by the wind whistling through the tree branches overhead. The rising sun formed a light yellow backdrop to the hulking structure of the castle silhouetted in the brightening horizon. “Nay, milord, I see no one guarding the walls. “Tis puzzling indeed,” he answered, his voice trailing off. “Think you ‘tis a trap?” “Nay, I do not believe so. Yet, you are to remain vigilant for a sign that we are being ambushed.” Wraith turned to pin Perrin with a stare. “I do not like this, milord. The plan was to barrage the castle with repeated blows while you took several hundred men through the tunnel. Now you wish me to do nothing but wait?” “Aye, do nothing while we enter the tunnel, and do nothing unless I give the signal.” Shaking his head, he gazed at the castle. “Very well then, I will make certain we surround the castle walls and have the siege machines assembled and the bowmen ready.” With a curt nod of his head, Wraith gestured with a large sweeping motion of his arm for his men to follow him on foot. Dismounting, he led the men single-file into the cover of the black shadowed curtain wall. Wraith crept along the base of the wall searching for the familiar boulder that was his landmark to the mouth of the tunnel. A steady stream of a few hundred knights trailed behind him, following in complete silence. They tiptoed through the brush and silenced their weaponry.. Suddenly, Wraith stopped and disappeared into a black abyss. The men followed, stepping around the one lone scrub bush that concealed its existence and disappearing into the fathomless void. It gobbled him up so completely that he began to feel suffocated at the sudden closeness of the walls. Swallowing his fear, damp stale air lingered, permeating his nostrils, while his boots sloshed through the puddles that dotted the crypt- like shaft. Occasionally, subdued clinking sounds were the only evidence of the huge wave of men that weaved their way through the deep recesses of the fortress. They were highly experienced at keeping quiet their clanking armor, swords, mace, and shields, for most had been to battle many times before.

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Wraith’s hand subconsciously grasped the hilt of his ever-faithful sword, a reassurance for a confrontation with Lothar’s men. His primary target was Bridgett, but he was fully prepared to wreak bloody vengeance upon anyone who stood in his way. Painful remembrances washed over him as they inched closer and closer to the dungeon wall. His heart began to pound and he gasped for breath at the mere reflection of his painful memories. If it had not been for Bridgett, he would have perished in this hellhole. Lifting the torch to illuminate the oppressive darkness, Wraith watched the stones of the wall begin to materialize before his eyes. His steps slowed and he realized what he was about to do. Feeling the reassuring hand of Sir de Marten upon his shoulder gave him the fortitude to continue. “My lord.” Marten’s words soothed him even further as he felt his mentor’s support. Nodding, he approached the stone face and looked it over thoroughly before his hand hesitantly lifted to grasp a protruding stone. As a soldier and warrior, he had trained to sense danger before it even occurred. He felt no such warning at this particular moment. Half-turning, he handed the torch to de Marten, while cautiously extracting one solitary stone from the wall at eye level. Peeking through the opening, the dungeon appeared dark except for one single torch at the top of the stairs. He could see no one about and decided to continue dismantling the wall. His men moved in to aide him, stacking the stones against the tunnel wall out of the way of the forces that would file past. Keeping his senses guarded, he crept out into the open arena of the torture chamber. Adjusting his coat of chain mail and armor breastplate, he drew a huge breath to ease the tension. Then, pulling his sword from its scabbard, his eyes moved up the winding stairway that led out of the prison. Muffled scraping resounded throughout the chamber, indicating that his men also unsheathed their weapons. Standing still, his eyes wandered to the iron manacles that hung motionless from the vaulted ceiling, the instruments of his torture could hurt him no longer. Taking a calming breath, his sword arm assumed a battle-ready position as he tiptoed up the dark, moldy stairs. Feeling the hilt of his sword in his hand and his men at his back reinforced his courage to continue to the top. The garrisons of men were spaced out indiscriminately in the tunnel, knowing it could be a trap. It had been a delicate decision whether to bring large groups of men into the castle bowels, yet risk entrapment, or leave the masses outside the walls and leave the men within largely unprotected. Either way, Perrin had his orders to destroy the castle if an attack ensued. Silently creeping with his back to the outer wall, he kept his eyes glued to the winding stairs above. The eerily reminiscent journey Bridgett had taken down these very steps to save his life only two fortnights ago flitted through his mind. Still Wraith braced himself for imminent danger, fully expecting to be confronted by a veritable army by this time. The strangely empty dungeon and complete silence above, gave him uneasiness. The crush of warm bodies behind him added the bravery he seemed to be lacking at this moment. Reaching the head of the stone staircase, he peeked around the corner of the arched entranceway that led to the hallway. A dimly-lit shadowy corridor emerged, yet there remained no sign of human activity. Keeping his senses on high alert, he slipped silently down the hallway, his muscles flexing and bunching with his weapon in hand. The men followed on tiptoe behind him, keeping their backs plastered to the wall. Wraith peered behind momentarily to see

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some of them preparing themselves by lowering their helm visors, while others simply raised their weapons in readiness. Upon reaching the end of the corridor, a darkened staircase led to a room bathed in rich golden glows high above their heads. Wraith turned to his men and mouthed one word. “Ready?” Nodding heads and raised weapons answered him. Stepping up, he slowly ascended the long staircase whose opening yawned brighter the farther he climbed. He felt rather than heard the powerful force of his men directly behind him. He ascended and began to make out the main meeting hall, with its tapestry-laden walls and warmly glowing fireplace. Reaching the top, he entered the room and came to an abrupt halt. Standing before a blazing fire, with his back to Wraith, stood an unaware Lothar. Suddenly feeling their presence, he whirled around. “What the hell is this?” demanded Lothar, as shock twisted his normally handsome features. With the quickness of a trained knight, he grabbed the nearest sword amidst a myriad of weaponry in his vast collection upon the wall. He instantly assumed a threatening offensive pose. His steely blue eyes never left Wraith’s as he circled him with his own weapon in ready position. Slowly his sight wandered to the figures of Wraith’s men filing quietly into the large hall. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “Guards!” he screamed urgently. No men-at-arms appeared, no men wearing surcoats bearing his coat of arms. His gaze darted frantically around the room as he attempted to watch everyone at the same time. He remained in a hunched position, his sword arm wavering threateningly, as if he meant to take on the entire room. “Where the hell is everyone?” he yelled, this time with more alarm in his voice. Yet, as before, no one appeared. Wraith stepped closer, raised his sword arm and pinned Lothar with all the hate he felt. Suddenly, his vision caught sight of the blue surcoats of Lothar’s guards entering the room. Alarm gripped him, his heart thundered in his chest, his blood pounded through his veins. He readied himself for all out warfare. Yet, in scanning the gathering crowd of Lothar’s men, he noticed they seemed unthreatening as they filed in. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his own men, staring at the pair in the center of the room. They obviously did not intend to interfere as they lowered their weapons to their sides and sheathed them “What the hell are you doing, kill them!” Lothar roared. Wraith slowly began to circle Lothar, keeping his eyes riveted to him in total concentration. His blade glinted in the light as he slowly rotated his arm in preparation for a strike. Likewise, Lothar began to circle and kept his eyes fastened to the foe before him. “I have Bridgett, Wraith de Kingsley, take your men and leave my castle,” he rasped in a dastardly tone. “Are you threatening me?” growled Wraith. “’Tis finished, you will never have her,” he retorted viciously. Wraith’s hatred exploded, as he tore across the room to deliver the first staggering blow to an ill-prepared Lothar. He wore no chain mail or armor, and carried no shield. Yet Wraith felt no pity or remorse for the man who had savagely beaten him to the point of death only weeks earlier. Even worse, his cruelty had smothered Bridgett for most of her life. Wraith’s tremendous weight and power collided with Lothar and a loud clang resonated throughout the hall, bringing Lothar to his knees instantly. Without the benefit of a shield, Lothar

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weakly attempted to heave Wraith away as he gathered his strength. Wraith was in no mood to let Lothar regain his energy, attacking again with full force. Sparks flew through the air as the blades reconnected with repeated clangs. Coincidentally, Lothar’s only advantage was his lack of armor, making him slightly quicker on his feet. Yet Wraith had the advantage of power and bulk, which he used mercilessly. Separating, Lothar thought to attack unexpectedly by thrusting his blade directly at Wraith’s neck, for he wore no helm. Wraith jumped back out of range as a shrill scream told Wraith that Bridgett was somewhere in the room. As badly as he wanted to see her, he dared not take his eyes from Lothar for even a second. With lightening speed, he deflected another powerful thrust by Lothar. Reinitiating the element of continued attack, Wraith stormed toward the wide-eyed and frantic Lothar. He would wear him down to the point of exhaustion, as he had done to Perrin many times in practice. The only difference now would be the death of his opponent. Lothar raised his sword in defense and he backed away under the vicious pummeling that Wraith dealt him. Wraith hammered his weapon against Lothar’s rapidly fatiguing arm. The deafening sounds of metal upon metal dominated the otherwise deathly silent room. Seeking relief, Lothar slipped from beneath the attack towards the center of the room. His eyes scanned the room pleadingly, only to discover both armies impassively watching the brutal display. Obviously realizing defeat was inevitable, he dashed recklessly across the room with sword pointed directly at Wraith. Wraith reacted quickly by sidestepped the approaching blade and thrusting his own deeply into the mid-section of Lothar. The glinting blade impaled its victim with lightening accuracy, as a stunned Lothar staggered. His mouth hung open, his eyes staring glassily at Wraith. His weapon clanged to the stone floor in final defeat. His arms dropped to his sides, his head lolled to one side and he slumped. Blood flowed freely from the wound as his life ebbed away. Wraith held fast to the hilt of his sword, guiding the dying man to the floor out of knightly respect. Kneeling upon one knee, he slowly slid his sword from Lothar’s body. Standing, he looked sadly at the dripping weapon and a voice yelled from the other side of the room. “Wraith!” Her cries were pitiful as her voice moved closer. Just as he turned around, Bridgett launched her body at his. Her arms looped around his neck and she buried her face against his chest, sobbing with unrestrained abandon. His arms came around her to embrace her tightly as he smiled down. “Lothar is dead, this castle has no lord. Bridgett and I are to be wed. I shall take possession of his properties until the king can be notified.” Deafening yells of lusty male jubilation spread throughout the room. Scooping Bridgett into the security of his arms, he hugged her and pressed his cheek to her hair. Preparing to turn, another person who he had thought never to see again emerged from between the crowd. The room quieted when Walter emerged hobbling upon a cane. “Walter.” Wraith voice was low as their eyes met. “Aye, milord, ‘tis I. I finally realized that Margarete was insane with her lunatic plan. Lothar made her an offer to bring him Bridgett in exchange for your life. However, she soon realized that Lothar did not intend to keep his word to her or anyone. I sided with Sir Michel and the rest of the castle knights to overthrow him. I betrayed your trust in me for naught, milord. And for that I am ashamed.” His head dipped with shame.

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“Aye, you betrayed my trust lad, yet you also saved my lady’s life by siding with Lothar’s men and for that I will be eternally grateful.” Hearing the hopefulness in Wraith’s words, Walter slowly raised his head to meet Wraith’s gaze. “Who is this Sir Michel, I have heard his name mentioned several times?” Searching the crowd, he glanced over the heads of the men in front of him to see even the ones against the wall. Bridgett lifted her head from his chest, to look up at him from her high perch in his embrace. “Sir Michel is one person that you must meet, milord.” Surveying the room’s occupants, she beckoned the knight forward. A mountain of a man strode forward proudly, pushing through the crowd of men. He stood eye to eye with Wraith, an uncommon feat in itself. When their eyes met, Wraith knew his identity without even asking. “Father?” he uttered. Wraith felt his jaw slack as he perused the man’s facial features like a starved man would ogle a sumptuous meal. “Aye, I am your father, Wraith.” The man stood rigidly, waiting for a reaction from Wraith. “There is much to discuss, Sir. We have lost a great many years, but we have many more to catch up.” Wraith offered him a lopsided grin, indicating with his head that he wished him to follow. Angling down, he lowered his mouth to capture Bridgett’s lips in a scorching kiss. Finally lifting his head, he spoke. “We have a wedding to plan, all are invited.” Thunderous ovation erupted while knights from both castles cheered, clapped their hands, and stomped their feet. “I believe ‘tis time for a grand celebration. Break out the wine barrels.” The cheering was deafening as more yells and applause rose to an earsplitting pitch. Knowing that the great struggle that had plagued the two leaders was finally over, the knights formed a united group to saunter side by side through the halls of Conwy Castle.

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Chapter Eighteen Wraith attempted to keep his nerves in check as he paced back and forth outside the bedchamber door. Nervous agitation made sweat pour down his forehead and into his eyes. With an unconscious swipe of his forearm, he cleared the annoying wetness away for what seemed like the thousandth time. His nerves were frayed and his body tense with the event about to take place, but blessedly not yet over. Trying to divert his mind to happier thoughts, he reminisced about the wedding that had taken place between Bridgett and he. A small smile curved his mouth as he pictured Bridgett in her long, flowing gold gown. The neckline settling bewitchingly at the tips of her shoulders, making him yearn to expose her creamy shoulders and breasts in the privacy of their bedchamber. The chaplet he had given her when they met graced her head during the ceremony. Her hair trailed down her back to nearly touch the floor, for it had been left unrestrained for the occasion. His smile broadened in remembrance of the besotted Perrin dancing with Judith, their relationship growing closer each day. Sir Michel had handily taken over running Conwy Castle without any difficulties, the pride evident on his face as he accepted the responsibility graciously. To Sir Richard de Marten had gone the charge of Caernarfon Castle , another of Lothar’s holdings. He readily accepted it with great enthusiasm and it pleased Wraith to be able to reward him with such a fortress. The handsome structure was the handiwork of King Edward, and it would be well cared for by the knight. Shaking his head, his thoughts returned to the tenuous situation of the present. “With luck we’ll have a guest by this evening, milord,” said a smiling handmaiden breezing by him in the hall. He offered a weak smile in return as his confidence plummeted and his hands trembled with concern for his wife. Shortly after their matrimonial rites had taken place, Bridgett announced her pregnancy with jubilant declaration to the entire castle. Blissfulness soon turned to terror when he realized he had probably condemned his fair love to a predestined death, just as he had done to his own mother. For months, he had watched her girth expand to gargantuan proportions, all the while feigning happiness for their impending offspring. As her size increased, so too did his apprehension and fear. It became more difficult to display paternal enthusiasm as he daily watched her middle expand to abnormal dimensions. Until, eventually, he simply gazed at her with pity, and a growing apprehension for the upcoming event. He knew from the fire and passion of their first coupling that he had gotten her with child. Even if he had restrained himself from planting his seed inside her that night, their continued lovemaking would have produced the same result.. Yet, he was hopelessly in love with Bridgett and wanted to sire children with her. He just wished there was another way to birth a child. Resuming the ardent pacing, he wrung his hands and wiped his sweating brow yet again. Suddenly, a piercing yell cut through the relative silence of the hallway making him halt and brace his hands against the door to the chamber in desperation. Hearing the scream had torn at

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his heart and his fears began to mount. Standing at the door, he mentally argued with himself whether or not he should remain outside the room. Finally, he lost his composure and thrust open the door, banging it against the wall. Barging into the center of the room, he stood with his chest heaving, fists clenched, as his eyes intently searched for his wife. Bridgett lay upon her back, with legs spread slightly apart, her sweat-soaked gown covering her vital areas. She panted quietly from the ordeal and did not seem to notice his unannounced arrival. As she lay in the midst of laboring, sweat beads dotted her face and her fists gripped handfuls of bed covering in an effort to ease her obvious agony. Judith sat on one side of the bed and Agnes sat on the other. They each held one of her hands with compassionate tenderness while uttering encouraging words to her. Suddenly, another contraction must have gripped her, for her face contorted with pain and she gritted her teeth. Biting her lower lip for relief, she attempted to manage her struggle quietly. Wraith remained riveted to the floor watching, until she let go of a heart-wrenching scream that left him unsettled and shaken. Rushing to her side, he sat upon the bed as he gathered one of her hands in his. He shivered and wiped his brow, which felt cold and clammy. Stroking her face tenderly, he fought back the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. It had not been his intention to serve his wife a death sentence when they married. He would gladly forego having children if it meant he could save her life. Inwardly, he feared that her life was about to come to a tortured end. Guilt and fear seized him as he gazed at the love of his life in the throes of agony. As he watched, a watery fluid gushed from between her legs to sodden the bed linens. Wraith turned to face Judith, looking pleadingly into her eyes. His face must have turned a deadly ashen color, for he felt as though he would vomit. “What can I do to help? Please do not let her die!” His eyes began to fill with tears and he feared he was about to watch Bridgett die. Judith’s expression turned to one of concern and she placed her hand on his shoulder for support. “Milord, she is not going to die. She is about to give birth.” Agnes moved to the bedside with clean linens and a basin of water. Wraith moved off the bed and watched the women move about with confidence and precision to prepare for the event. Judith gazed up at him and smiled sweetly. “All will be well, milord. ‘Twill not be long now,” she whispered softly. Everyone knew his fears were well grounded, for his own mother’s death had scarred him permanently. He knew also that history could easily repeat itself by taking Bridgett away from him in the same grisly manner that his mother had been taken away. He would remain by her side no matter what the outcome, for if she were doomed to die, he would be by her side until the end. He prepared himself for whatever would happen as he watched Bridgett huff quickly and sweat profusely. He vowed to himself that he would not let Bridgett die, even if he had to pull the infant from her body. Judith’s announcement startled Wraith suddenly, bringing him back to reality. “The babe’s head has crested, and ‘tis a fine crop of black hair, milord.” Wraith had hope suddenly, but wished not to tempt fate. Closing his eyes, he silently said a prayer that she would survive the ordeal. He considered bargaining with his higher power that he would never again touch his beautiful wife if her life would only be spared. A strange swooshing sound interrupted his thoughts, followed by the strong cries of an infant.

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“Milord, you have a beautiful new son.” Judith looked up from her position on the bed to beam broadly at him. His eyes flew open in disbelief and he stared down in shock and joy. He moved to Bridgett’s side and held her hand. The midwife finished cleaning the babe and wrapped the infant in clean linen, holding the tiny bundle to him. He marveled at the tiny face, the little pink nose, the blushing cheeks, and miniature rosebud lips that suckled in a natural feeding instinct. Thick, black hair graced his head, and when he opened his eyes briefly, they were a brilliant blue in color. Wraith cuddled the newborn and stared in disbelief at the miracle in his arms. Paying no attention to the women who cleaned Bridgett, he failed to notice their shocked expressions. A sudden gasp made his head snap up with concern. Movement from the end of bed gained his immediate attention. A grunt from Bridgett had him in a panic as he turned to ask what was happening. “What ‘tis wrong?” He could not control his terror. “Looks like you have a new daughter as well, milord. She is a beauty too, isn’t she?” Before he could react, a second bundle was thrust into his arms. Looking down in the other crook of his arm lay a beautiful, black-haired, green-eyed girl. The babes snuggled cozily against his chest, as if they knew he was their father. Looking up, he met Bridgett’s gaze as she reclined against a pile of pillows. Exhausted, yet gorgeous, she exemplified the essence of radiant motherhood. With motherly affection, she stroked each infant’s head with a blissful look upon her face. Wraith watched the tender display of endearment as tears of relief dampened his eyes. Never had he considered her enormous size was the result of not one child, but two. “We must name our beautiful children, my handsome husband,” she whispered. Wraith looked up into the eyes of the woman who had captured his heart and changed his life. He smiled, pondering her request. “I already know their names, my love. We shall name them Garin and Elizabeth, after your parents.” Overcome with emotion, Bridgett threw her arms around his neck and sobbed with happiness. Leaning in for a kiss, Wraith met her lips with a love that overwhelmed him. As the kiss ended, tears streamed down Bridgett’s cheeks and she clung to him. She softly kissed his lips, breathlessly speaking between kisses. “My warrior husband, my heart belongs to you now and forever.” “And mine to you, my love.” No more words passed during that unforgettable afternoon.

The End