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Vanora's words rendered Lionheart speechless. She was still hoping for love after he had told her it did not exist for him. Since she seemed to be waiting for a reply, he sought a glib answer.

"I will love you, wife, with my body, whenever you wish, be it night or day. My cock is always willing."

His arms circled her and dragged her close, the rigid proof of his desire prodding ruthlessly against her softness. It had been so long since he'd made love to Vanora, his body throbbed with need. He wanted her, desperately. Watching her from afar had been torturous. He belonged in her bed, in her arms, inside her. Deep inside her.

He kissed her neck. Desire thickened as she melted into him, her body molding itself to his. His caressing hands unerringly removed her tunic. He slid the fabric off her shoulders and peeled away her shift. He dipped to kiss her nipples, his hands skimming down her back and cupping her bottom. Still holding her against him, he walked with her to the bed and lowered her down upon the furs. His smoldering gaze did not leave her as he shucked off his clothing.

"It has been a lonely fortnight," he growled. "My cold bed offered no comfort. I want to make love to you."

Her great purple eyes glittered as her gaze dropped to his loins. Reaching out a hand, she enclosed the pulsing staff, feeling it throb against her palm. She smiled impishly, seductively, as her fingers circled and squeezed him. Anticipation pounded through him when she pulled him to her and touched the tip of her tongue to the glistening head of his cock. The sensation of her flicking tongue undid his control. Roaring, he pushed her down and lowered himself on top of her.

His mouth covered hers, forestalling any protest Vanora might have made. The desperate need for total consummation instantly pounded though him. She clutched his shoulders and kissed him back more aggressively than she ever had before.

Her hungry response sent desire rampaging through him. He returned his mouth to her neck, and then to her swelling, beckoning breasts. He teased her with his tongue, her sounds of pleasure spurring his ardor. Removing her hands from his shoulders, he slid down her body. Spreading her legs, he looked at her with smoldering eyes. Kneeling between her thighs, he kissed her stomach, around her navel. Lower still. Reaching down for her ankles, he lifted first one leg and then the other onto his shoulders.

Cradling her hips in his hands, he kissed up her thigh to his goal and planted his mouth there. Her frantic cries and pulsing flesh sent waves of desire spiraling through him. This was what he had missed. This was what he needed. She rocked slowly, rhythmically as he explored deeper, his hunger turning primal as his tongue lashed into her. He kept her on the edge, frenzied, mad with a need that aroused him even more than her taste, before he sent her screaming into a dazzling climax.

He rose up and moved over her; the sound of her gasping breaths sent his own tautly leashed passion out of control. Her feminine softness yielded to him. Desire scorched him, making him aware that he was still hard and throbbing, still unfulfilled. Flexing his hips, he plunged inside her so hard, the bed ropes rocked beneath them.

He tilted her bottom and sank deeper. Setting the rhythm, he moved her to afford them the greatest pleasure, going as deep as he could, building her passion to match his own. She lifted her hips higher, moaning and twisting her head from side to side as he pumped in and out, harder, faster. He felt her quiver, felt violent little tremors pulsing against him. One more thrust and she came hard, crying out his name.

Waiting for her climax was the hardest thing he had ever done. But wait he did, his body taut with raw need until she stilled. Only then did he give his passion full rein, gripping her hips in his hands and pounding inside her, driving himself closer and closer to completion. A shudder ran through him and he spilled violently, coming hard and fast, filling her with his essence.

They lay there for what seemed like an eternity, until his breathing slowed. Then he lifted his head and looked down at her. When he saw her smiling at him, he realized he was lost, that he never had a chance.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

That love is a fearsome thing. But he held his tongue. He was not ready to commit himself. Giving a woman that kind of power over him was daunting.

"I am thinking that you will never leave my bed again."

"You left mine, remember?"

"I must have been mad. In this we are very well matched, sweeting; I shall not make the mistake of leaving your bed again."

It was a start, Vanora thought. She could make him love her; she knew she could.

* * *

During the following days Lionheart made all the necessary preparations for Daffid's expected attack. He

strengthened the walls where they were weak and posted lookouts on the wall walk. He trained his men relentlessly, preparing them both mentally and physically for battle.

A tenuous harmony existed between Lionheart and Vanora during those days. Passion brought them together and kept them returning to the beckoning bed in the solar. Though Lionheart drove himself until he was too tired to draw a breath, he still found the energy to make love to Vanora.

"How soon will Sir Giles return?" Vanora asked one night as they lay in languorous contentment after a satisfying bout of lovemaking.

"Soon. Within the next few days, surely."

"You miss him," Vanora stated.

"Aye, he is my right arm just as I am Edward's."

As you are mine, Vanora thought but did not say.

* * *

The day Althea left was a happy one for Vanora. She stood beside Lionheart as he placed a heavy purse in Althea's hand and bade her Godspeed.

"Spend this wisely, Althea," Lionheart advised, "and you shall not want for the rest of your days. Find a husband who will love you and give you children."

Althea hefted the purse and sneered. "I will take your gold, Lionheart, but you are making a mistake. Mark my words, one day your wife will betray you."

White lines bracketed Lionheart's mouth as he sent Althea and her escort on their way.

"Good riddance," Vanora muttered. "You were more than generous with her."

Threading her arm in his, she turned him toward the keep, more at peace now than she had been in a very long time. With Althea gone, there was naught to distract Lionheart, naught to keep him from giving her his undivided attention. Her days as the White Knight were behind her, and she need never lie to Lionheart again.

But Vanora's happiness was short-lived. Three days later a rider appeared at the portcullis. He was admitted immediately and brought directly to Lionheart. Vanora hurried over to join him, anxious to learn what the commotion was about. She recognized the young man immediately. It was Peter, Sir Giles's squire. A frisson of fear slid down her spine. She knew intuitively that something unforeseen had happened to Sir Giles, and that the consequences were going to destroy her chances to win Lionheart's love.

Peter was wild-eyed and disheveled, his chest heaving from his exertions and a yet unnamed fear. His tunic was rent, and a stream of blood ran down his arm.

"Speak, lad," Lionheart said. "Where are Sir Giles and his bride?"

His voice was coiled taut as a spring, and Vanora moved close, offering the comfort of her presence.

"We were outnumbered," Peter said, gasping for breath. "We acquitted ourselves well, but defeat was inevitable."

Grasping the lad's tunic, Lionheart yanked him forward until they were nose to nose. "What happened?"

" 'Twas Daffid ap Deverell. He holds Sir Giles and his lady hostage."

"Release him, Lionheart," Vanora said. "The lad is wounded and in need of attention."

He released Peter's tunic; the lad nearly fell to his knees but caught himself. "Aye, fetch Mair," Lionheart ordered. A man-at-arms hurried off to find the tiring woman.

"Help is on the way, lad. Meanwhile, tell me everything. How did you escape?"

"I did not escape. Daffid let me go to bring you a message."

Lionheart's lips flattened. "Proceed."

Peter's gaze lingered briefly on Vanora, then returned to Lionheart. "Daffid said he will not harm Sir Giles and his lady if you send Lady Vanora to him."

Lionheart's expression turned grim. "What else?"

"You have a sennight to comply with his request. If your lady does not arrive within the allotted time, he will"—he swallowed convulsively— "kill Sir Giles and his bride."

"I will go to him," Vanora said firmly.

"Nay!" Lionheart roared. "You will not!"

"I must if we are to save Giles and his bride. Daffid will listen to me. Mayhap I can talk some sense into him."

"I will think of something that does not involve you," Lionheart said. "How defendable is Daffid's keep?"

" 'Twould not be difficult to scale the walls, but I fear his army would overwhelm yours ere you breached the keep. Besides, Daffid would kill Sir Giles and Deirdre before you could get to them."

"I know what you are thinking, Vanora, and I will not allow it. Stay with young Peter until Mair arrives." Turning on his heel, Lionheart strode off, motioning for Sir Brandon and Sir Ren to follow.

Mair arrived moments later with her chest of herbs, ointments and simples. She clucked over Peter's wound and led him to the kitchen in search of hot water. Vanora hurried up to the solar, where she could think without being disturbed.

She knew that any action Lionheart took to rescue Giles and his lady was bound to fail. Even if he fought his way past a force twice, nay, three times the size of his own, which was highly unlikely, he would not find Giles and Deirdre alive. Daffid would slay them in retribution.

Vanora racked her brain for an answer. She knew she could not allow Daffid to kill two innocent people. And the thought of Lionheart dying was too painful to contemplate. Nay, it was up to her to find a way to save Giles and his bride . . . and Lionheart. But to do so meant breaking her word. She had promised Lionheart she would never don armor again, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Lionheart was distracted when they retired to the solar later that evening. As he prowled the chamber, she felt his anguish as if it were her own. She said naught as she waited for him to speak, her gaze running over his broad, strong body, a smooth-muscled fighting machine that could give pleasure as well as exact punishment.

Finally he stopped in front of her, his hands clenched into fists, his silver eyes hard with purpose. "You know Daffid better than I. Think you he will kill them?"

"I wish I could give you assurances, but I cannot. What I know of Daffid I cannot like."

"He was your betrothed," Lionheart charged.

"He was my father's choice. I did not object to a verbal betrothal, for I thought Daffid would make a good husband."

He sent her a sharp look. "Do you still feel that way?"

"Nay. Daffid is not the man I thought he was. There is an ugly streak in him that disgusts me."

" 'Tis as I feared. A man such as Daffid will not hesitate to kill if he is thwarted. He is mad with jealousy. I have what he wants."

"Daffid wants Cragdon."

"Daffid wants you, but as long as there is a breath in me he shall not have you."

"Daffid will kill if forced to it," Vanora said softly. "Let me go to him, Lionheart. I am willing to trade myself for Giles and his wife. I am clever. Once they are free, I know I can find a way to return to Cragdon."

"Are you mad? You are a woman. I am perfectly capable of rescuing my vassals. If there is no other way, I shall storm the castle."

" 'Tis what Daffid wants, Lionheart. You cannot win. Daffid's forces outnumber yours. Granted, his men are ill trained, but they have might on their side. Once Daffid lures you to Draymere, your small army will be cut down, leaving him free to claim Cragdon."

"And you," Lionheart added.

Ignoring his last remark, Vanora tried one last time to convince Lionheart of the logic of her plan. " 'Tis suicide, Lionheart, and will not save Giles and Deirdre."

"At least we shall die with honor, Vanora." He held out his hand. "Come to bed."

Realizing there was naught she could say to change Lionheart's mind, Vanora placed her hand in his and allowed him to undress her. He loved her roughly, frantically, their coupling taking her beyond herself, beyond mere pleasure. She knew his ardor was partly due to battle lust, but hers was fueled by the love she bore him.

When it was over, they rested, and then he loved her again, this time with sweet languor and tenderness. Later, after Lionheart had fallen asleep, Vanora shed tears of remorse for what she had to do to save the lives of those she cared about. Lightly she touched her stomach, where she had reason to believe Lionheart's child grew. She was glad she had not yet told him.

A shiver of fear for that fragile life within her slid down her spine, but she quickly banished it. Deep down she knew she and her babe would return to Lionheart unharmed.

The following morning Lionheart met with his chief knights to formulate a plan of action. Seeking help from neighboring landholders was out of the question. Englishmen were interlopers in Wales, and no help would be forthcoming. Suggestions were offered, but Lionheart knew that naught could change the fact that the lack of men would probably spell their doom. Everyone agreed, however, that an attempt must be made to save Sir Giles and his lady wife.

"Sir Ren, you know Draymere best. Is there a way to gain entrance to the castle without storming the portcullis or scaling the walls?"

His lips pursed in thought, Sir Ren shook his head. "Nay, my lord. Draymere is an old keep and in sad

repair. I am aware of no secret entrances or postern gates. 'Tis a well-known fact that all castles have tunnels and secrets exits. Only thus could supplies be brought in during siege and couriers escape unseen, but I am not privy to Draymere's secrets."

"Can you give me a rough estimate of the number of men Daffid has at his command?"

"Over one hundred, Lord Lionheart. Every one may not have bows or swords, but staves and cudgels can be deadly weapons when wielded by men who hate Englishmen."

"Why not attempt a night attack?" Sir Brandon suggested. "We could scale the walls, silence the guards and make our way into the keep."

"I was thinking along those same lines," Lionheart mused. "We have less than a sennight to plan our siege. A cloudy, moonless night would be best. Sir Brandon, prepare the men. I want them ready to move at a moment's notice. Pray for at least one cloudy night during the sennight Daffid has allowed us."

That evening, in the privacy of the solar, Lionheart shared his plans with Vanora.

"All your men-at-arms will be needed to storm Daffid's keep, and that will leave Cragdon undefended," Vanora warned.

Lionheart shrugged. "It cannot be helped. I am counting on our surprise attack to confuse Daffid's forces. If all goes as planned, the Welshmen guarding the portcullis will be replaced with my own men, thus preventing anyone from leaving Draymere to attack Cragdon."

Vanora feared that Lionheart's plan would fail and that he would die alongside Giles, Deirdre and the rest of Cragdon's defenders. With Lionheart dead she would be at Daffid's mercy. Nay, she could not let that happen . . . would not let it happen. She knew what she had to do to prevent needless deaths and was willing to take the risk.

"When will you attack?"

"Soon. The moon is on the wane, and even as we speak clouds are gathering over the mountains. Tomorrow night, or at the very latest, the night after that."

"Let me go with you."

"Nay, 'tis impossible. Stay here and await my return."

"And if you do not return? What then?"

"Then you are free to wed Daffid as your father

wanted."

There was an untamed wildness in Vanora that night. She could not get enough of Lionheart. Her mouth and hands tasted him, explored his body until he was mad for her. But she would not be appeased until he had completely exhausted himself and fallen asleep. It was well after Matins when Vanora kissed Lionheart lightly upon the lips, arose without waking him and dressed. After making sure he still slept, she opened his clothes chest, removed his distinctive red tabard with a rampant lion emblazoned in gold on the front, and hid it beneath her mantle.

Silent as a wraith, Vanora left the solar and descended the stairs to the hall. Her footsteps whispered through the rushes as she made her way to the front door. A sentry stepped out from the shadows.

"Where go you, my lady?"

Vanora started violently, then relaxed when she recognized one of her own knights. "You startled me, Sir Eldin. I could not sleep so I decided to go to the chapel and pray."

" Tis late, my lady."

"Aye, but 'tis never too late to pray."

Sir Eldin must have agreed, for he let her pass.

Hugging the shadows, Vanora slipped inside the chapel and went directly to the chest in the anteroom that contained her armor, helm and sword. She quickly shed her gown and with great difficulty donned her chain mail. Then she pulled on Lionheart's red tabard and stuffed her own white and gold tabard inside her mail shirt. She shoved her helm over her head, sheathed her sword and lowered her visor.

Assuming a masculine gait, Vanora strode to the mews wearing Lionheart's colors, saddled a steed from among the horses and mounted with the help of a mounting block.

So far, so good, she thought, but the hardest was yet to come. While posing as a man-at-arms, she had to convince the sentry to raise the portcullis. Inhaling sharply, Vanora squared her shoulders and boldly reined her horse toward the gate, thanking God that she was tall enough to pass for a man.

"Who goes there?" the sentry challenged as she approached.

Lowering her voice an octave, Vanora said, "Raise the portcullis."

"State your name and your mission."

Thinking quickly, Vanora gave the name of one of her own knights who would not be well known to Lionheart's man. "Sir Morse. Lord Lionheart has sent me forth to spy on Daffid's fortress."

The sentry looked not at all convinced. "Mayhap I should check with Lionheart before I raise the portcullis."

"Think you Lionheart will be pleased to have his sleep disturbed and his orders questioned in the middle of the night?"

Vanora's words must have given the sentry second thoughts, for he turned away and cranked up the portcullis. "Go with God, Sir Morse."

Vanora certainly hoped God would guide her, for she needed all her wits about her if she was to manage Giles's and Deirdre's release and see to her own rescue before Lionheart placed his life in jeopardy.

The sun was high overhead when Vanora caught sight of Draymere's turrets. Reining her steed to a halt, she shed Lionheart's colors and donned her own white tabard, letting Lionheart's red and gold flutter away in the wind.

Vanora knew the moment she was spotted, for she heard the shouts echoing down from the battlements. Draymere had no outer bailey; the portcullis opened directly into an inner courtyard surrounded by high walls. Vanora halted at the portcullis, raised her visor and stared upward, waiting for Daffid to appear.

"Is that you, Vanora?" Daffid shouted down at her.

Vanora removed her helm, letting her long hair fly free. " 'Tis I, Daffid. Raise the portcullis and let me pass through."

Daffid disappeared, then reappeared a few minutes later in the courtyard. Vanora waited with growing apprehension as he strode toward her. She had much to lose if her plan failed, but a great deal to gain should she succeed.

Vanora's thoughts scattered when Daffid appeared at the portcullis. "Where is your cowardly husband? Is he the kind to hide behind a woman's skirts?"

"I came alone and of my own free will, Daffid. 'Tis what you wanted, is it not? You no longer have need of hostages. I demand that you release Sir Giles and his lady."

Daffid signaled the sentry to raise the portcullis. When it was of sufficient height, Vanora rode through. She winced when she heard the gate clang down behind her. Her fate and that of Sir Giles and his lady were now in her hands.

Daffid frowned. "Is this a trick?"

"No trick, Daffid. I came as you instructed. Those were your terms, were they not?"

"Aye, but I did not think Lionheart would let you go."

"I offer myself in exchange for the hostages."

"Come inside. 'Tis cold out here, and you have come a long way," Daffid hedged. "We will drink a cup of mulled wine while we talk."

A young lad ran up to take her reins. Vanora dismounted and followed Daffid, making note of the large number of men milling about the courtyard. Daffid had not been idle these past weeks.

Draymere was naught compared to Cragdon, Vanora thought as she entered the drafty keep. 'Twas no wonder Daffid was eager to seize her lands and home. The rushes on the floor smelled sour, and dusty webs hung over them like lacy curtains. She allowed Daffid to seat her before the hearth and sipped the wine a servant thrust into her hand.

She watched Daffid closely, trying to decipher his thoughts. Daffid was sly but not overly intelligent. Vanora felt confident that she could outwit him. But first she had to make sure Giles and Deirdre were released and sent on their way.

"Think you Lionheart will come after you?" Daffid asked.

"He will not," Vanora said with a conviction she hoped was true. She prayed Lionheart would have more sense than to storm a castle he could not possibly take. "He cares more for Sir Giles than he does for me. Most likely he will be glad to be rid of me."

"You cannot save him, you know. He will come, and I will be waiting."

"I know not what you mean."

" 'Tis simple, my dear. I have considerable manpower at my disposal. I know how many men Lionheart has, and he cannot possibly hope to defeat me with his paltry force of twenty-odd. In fact, I want him to attack Draymere. I welcome an attack. Naught would please me more than to send the bastard to hell. Then both you and Cragdon will be mine."

"England and Wales are at peace, Daffid," Vanora warned. "Killing Lionheart could renew hostilities. Is that what you want?"

" 'Tis bound to happen sooner or later. Think you Edward will leave Wales in peace once he becomes king?"

"Edward is not yet king, Daffid. He is still a young man, and his father is in good health. Many things could happen before Edward ascends to the throne. Attacking an English fortress will only hasten a war that could be years off."

"Cragdon is not an English fortress. It should be mine, and I intend to make it so."

"Cragdon belongs to Lionheart by right of marriage."

"Bah, the marriage is illegal. I had prior claim." The smile he gave her was not reassuring. "But you are here now, and soon Lionheart will come for you. When he does, I will be waiting."

Vanora bit her lip to keep from telling Daffid what she thought of him. "I am here. I met your terms. Lionheart will not come. If you account yourself a man of honor, you will release the hostages."

Daffid puffed out his chest. "No one questions my honor."

"Then prove it. Release Sir Giles and his lady."

"You try me sorely, Vanora. When we are wed, you will show me respect. Beating down your spirit will give me great pleasure."

He summoned a guardsman with a wave of his hand and ordered him to fetch the hostages. Vanora waited with growing apprehension for them to appear. Had they been mistreated? She hoped not, for otherwise Lionheart would seek revenge.

The guardsman returned, prodding Sir Giles along with the point of his sword. Blond, petite and deathly pale, Lady Deirdre clung to Giles, obviously frightened out of her wits. Vanora's heart went out to the young girl. Newly married and traveling in a strange land, her welcome had not been an auspicious one.

Vanora leapt to her feet. "Sir Giles! Are you and your lady unharmed?"

Giles came to an abrupt halt. "Lady Vanora? Is that you? Whatever are you doing dressed like that?"

" 'Tis of no account, Sir Giles. Introduce me to your wife before you leave."

Giles looked more than a little confused. "Forgive me, my lady. I am pleased to present to you my wife, Deirdre. Deirdre, greet Lady Vanora, Lord Lionheart's lady."

Sobbing, Deirdre grasped Vanora's hand and clung to it. "How can I ever thank you, my lady? I so feared we would not reach Cragdon alive."

Giles's eyes narrowed. "Where is Lionheart?"

"At Cragdon."

"I do not understand. What are you doing here without him? Are you certain we are free to go?" He stared at her chain mail and sword and frowned, as if suddenly aware of where he had seen that particular white tabard before.

"Nay, it cannot be! Tell me you are not the White Knight."

" 'Tis true, Sir Giles."

"How is that possible? Does Lionheart know?"

Daffid laughed, apparently enjoying Sir Giles's shock.

" 'Tis a long story. One I am sure Lionheart will tell you upon your return to Cragdon." She turned to Daffid. "Let them go now."

He pulled her aside. "In a moment. I would have a private word with you first."

"What is it now?" Vanora hissed.

"I want you to give Sir Giles a message to carry to Lionheart."

A chill ran down Vanora's spine. "What message?"

"Tell him to explain to Lionheart that you came to me because I am the man you want. Make your explanation creditable. Lionheart must believe that you would rather become my leman than remain his wife. Naught will bring him here faster than the knowledge that another man is bedding his wife."

"You want me to lead Lionheart to his death?"

"Aye. Lionheart's death is what I have always wanted."

"I cannot."

"I will slay the knight and his lady where they stand if you refuse."

Vanora closed her eyes and asked for God's help. What terrible thing had she wrought? 'Twas bad enough that she'd left without Lionheart's knowledge, but now she must also deny her love for him. She had not counted on that.

"If that message is delivered, Lionheart will never come for me. He will hate me and leave me to my fate."

Daffid laughed. "If you think that, you underestimate Lionheart's pride. I am a man. I saw the way Lionheart looks at you."

" 'Tis you who underestimates Lionheart's pride."

"Mayhap, but I will risk it. After you give Sir Giles the message, he and his lady may leave. I will be listening, so make very certain you tell Giles exactly what I have instructed you to say."

Vanora prayed that Lionheart would be so disgusted with her once her message was delivered, he would forget about storming Draymere. Once Giles and his wife were free, Lionheart would have no reason to attack. Vanora would have accomplished what she had set out to do without bloodshed.

Daffid gave her a shove toward Giles. She stiffened her shoulders and composed words of betrayal in her mind.

"My lady, are you all right?" Giles asked. "Are we free to leave now?"

"You and Deirdre may go," Vanora said, "but I am staying with Daffid."

Giles shook his head. "Nay. If you cannot leave, then neither shall we."

"I do not wish to return to Cragdon," Vanora said, stumbling over the lie. "Will you carry a message to Lionheart?"

"Of course, my lady," Giles said, "though I understand naught of this. Is Daffid forcing you to remain against your will?"

"I thought I made myself clear, Sir Giles. I was forced to wed Lionheart, but my heart has always been with my betrothed. 'Tis Daffid I want. Tell Lionheart to heed well my words, for I am not in need of rescue."

"If that is your wish, my lady." Giles's voice dripped with contempt. "I shall deliver your message word for word."

"Guard!" Daffid shouted. "My guests are free to go. Return their horses to them and escort them from my lands."

Her throat clogged with tears, Vanora watched them leave, and with them her future with Lionheart. She had just given Lionheart another reason to distrust her.