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"Damn you," Lionheart growled against her lips. "I thought I had lost you. I wanted to kill Daffid when Giles told me you preferred that bastard to me."

Vanora regarded him through a veil of tears. "I said that to save your life. I... I admit I was wrong to think I could influence Daffid. I thought I could talk him into releasing Giles and his bride, and that he would let me leave after I accomplished what I had set out to do. If I left the matter to you, I feared you would launch an attack upon Draymere and die in the attempt. Most of all, Daffid wanted you dead."

His arms tightened around her. "Think you I did not know that? I have never been so frightened in my life, or so angry when I learned what you had done. I thought you cared not for me. I was stunned and then enraged when Father Caddoc told me you were expecting my child. Why did you not tell me?"

"I was going to, but circumstances intervened." She sent him an aggrieved look. "How could you believe I cared not for you when I told you I loved you?"

"I did not believe it possible. How could you love me? No woman has ever loved me. I am unlovable."

"Nay, Lionheart, you are everything a woman could want in a man. You are courageous, selfless, strong, honorable—"

"Cease, woman! Tell me no lies."

She stamped her foot. "Think you I would lie about something as important as love? Can you not return a small portion of my love?"

"Love does not exist. Love is ..."

"Aye, Lionheart, I am most interested in hearing your description of love."

His expression softened as his thoughts turned inward. When he spoke, it was as if the words spilled forth from a place long dammed up inside him.

"Love is wanting—aye, a terrible wanting that churns the innards and confuses the mind. Love can hurt, especially when it is not returned."

Held in thrall by his words, Vanora said, "Go on."

"Love can unman a warrior and make him weak. Love can make a man want to protect his woman. It can drive all thought from his mind but the need to hold her close and pleasure her. Love can blind a man to what is important in life."

"What is that, Lionheart? Tell me what is more important than love?"

He sent her a wary look. "Everything is more important than love. Country, king, honor, duty."

"Aye, I understand. You love your country, your king, your honor and your duty."

"Of course. 'Tis the only kind of love that exists."

Vanora refused to accept his view. "Tell me how you feel about me. Spare not my feelings, for I would know the truth."

Reaching out, he caressed her cheek; his touch was so tender she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. "Are you sure you want to know?"

She swallowed hard. "Aye."

"Very well. I want to protect you," he said solemnly. "I cannot look at you without wanting to lay you down and thrust myself inside you. I admire your courage, your strength, your honor and your loyalty. Your beauty inspires me, and despite your sharp tongue, I enjoy your company."

He paused thoughtfully before continuing. "My life would be dull without you. I was desperately unhappy when I thought you wanted Daffid." He frowned, then brightened. "I love making love to you."

Incredible joy suffused her features. "You love me, Lionheart. How can you doubt it? What you just described is exactly how I feel about you. 'Tis love, Lionheart. You are most definitely not unlovable, and I would challenge any woman, including your mother, who said otherwise."

The heat of his gaze slid over her with burning intensity. "I want to make love to you, my fierce vixen. My

arms ache to hold you; I want to see your pleasure when I drive myself inside you and bring you to climax. I have been too long without you."

"Aye, my love. If you cannot say the words, then show me."

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed. As he began to undress her, he scowled, as if suddenly aware of the rough clothing she wore. "What is this? Why are you dressed like a servant?"

"Daffid would not let me wear my armor. This was the best he could provide for me."

"It offends me," he said, and promptly removed the coarse tunic and shift, kissing the places where the rough wool had abraded her skin.

He loved her body, all sleek curves and smooth, feminine flesh. He ran his fingers through her hair. He loved her hair, the color of dark sable, loved the way the silky strands curled around his fingers. He loved the way she responded to him, the way she looked at him, her purple eyes dark with undisguised passion. There was naught coquettish or shy about her need for him.

He loved her courage, the way she stood up to him and refused to bend beneath his will. He loved . . .

Vanora.

His thumb moved along her jaw, and she leaned her cheek into his palm. "What are you thinking?" Vanora asked.

He did not reply. His emotions were too raw to reveal. Instead, he tilted her face up for his kiss and settled his mouth very gently over hers. He could feel her pulse beating beneath his fingers as he deepened the kiss. His own heartbeat accelerated. What if he had lost her?

He was desperate to love her, to show her how much she meant to him. He wanted her to forget whatever unpleasantness she had experienced at Daffid's hands . . . and his own.

He kissed her shoulders, lowered his head and took one of her full breasts into his mouth. The tip crested quickly, a pebbled little bud that tasted sweet against his tongue. He licked the peak and felt a little shudder go through her. Her fingers moved to his tunic, working frantically to rid him of his clothing.

Reluctantly leaving his succulent feast, Lionheart shed his mantle, tunic, chausses and boots. Then he returned to the bed, his face stark with need.

He kissed his way from her breasts to her belly, moved lower, parted her legs and tasted the tender skin on the inside of her thighs.

His hand found the soft nest of sable curls and spread her with his fingers. Then he kissed her there, his tongue parting her soft, slick folds, stroking her, devoting all his attention to the tiny feminine bud that seemed to swell beneath his probing caress. Settling his mouth over her warm, wet center, he took her with his tongue.

"Lionheart!"

Her cry spurred him as he used his mouth and tongue with consummate skill. Her body quivered, tightened. He felt the tension building within her, and the struggle to control his burgeoning passion was fierce. He did not stop. Not until she cried out in pleasure. Her release was swift and shattering, jolting her with the force of it.

Cupping her bottom, he brought her tight against his devouring mouth, holding her captive while his tongue ravished her again and again. She climaxed a second time, shaking and trembling and crying out his name.

His pulse surged. Tension coiled in his gut as he raised himself above her, his body slick and glistening with sweat. His gaze held hers as he slowly filled her with himself, slid deep inside, slid out again, then drove into her, heightening both their pleasure.

He throbbed, every part of him, from the roots of his hair to his toes. Heat flared between them as their gazes held and clung. Still he held himself back, gauging every penetration, bringing her slowly but surely back to the peak of passion, until he had her moaning beneath him, digging her nails into his shoulders, his name like a litany on her lips.

He cursed, so close to the edge he feared he would expire. "Again, sweeting," he groaned. "Come with me."

She whispered his name, then came apart. He drove into her one last time and lost himself to an allconsuming heat that scorched him from the inside out. His body clenched and convulsed as pleasure spilled through him.

"I love you, Vanora."

Vanora went still. "What did you say?"

"Aye, I love you. Only a fool could doubt it, and I am no fool."

Little by little his breathing slowed. Easing himself down beside her, he brought her into his arms and listened to the pounding of her heart, smiling when he realized his own heartbeat matched hers.

"Are you all right? I did not hurt the babe, did I?"

"Nay, we are both fine." A thoughtful pause ensued. "Tell me more about the love you just discovered. Then we will discuss the babe."

He sighed, a deep soulful sound that warmed her heart. "You were right," he admitted. "All those things I admire about you are part of something greater. 'Tis love, sweeting, I realize that now. Sometimes love cannot be explained; it can only be felt. I do love you, Vanora. You refused to give up on me, even when I decried love and declared myself unlovable."

Her eyes grew misty. "If I could teach you to love yourself, I would be the happiest of women."

"As long as you love me, 'tis all I need."

"Our child will love you."

His expression grew fierce. "And I shall love him, or her. I vow that no child of mine will ever feel unloved. My parents taught me too welt how distrustful of his own worth an unloved child can become. Think you we will have a son?"

Vanora's eyes crinkled with mirth. "If not the first, then the second, or third, or ..."

His hand flattened on her stomach. "Let us concentrate on this one before we plan others." He removed his hand and sat up. "I suppose we should go below and greet Edward properly."

"And do not forget the guest he brought with him. I wonder who it is."

"I am almost afraid to ask."

They took their time washing and dressing, then descended the stairs and entered the hall arm in arm. Servants were waiting to serve the evening meal when they reached the high table. Edward occupied the place of honor, and a handsome woman of middle years sat on his right.

"Who is the woman beside Edward?" Vanora asked quietly. "She looks vaguely familiar, but I know her not."

When Lionheart failed to reply, Vanora glanced at him, her curiosity piqued by his perplexed expression. "Do you know her?"

"Nay," Lionheart bit out. There was an edgy wariness to his voice when he greeted Edward. "Welcome to my home, Lord Edward."

" 'Tis about time you left your bower," Edward teased. "Your lady wife's cheeks are exceedingly rosy. Am I to assume you are both happy with this marriage?"

"I am content," Lionheart said, giving Vanora's hand a squeeze.

"As I am," Vanora added.

"I hope your ordeal at Daffid's hands was not overly distressing, my lady," Edward remarked.

Lionheart answered for Vanora. " 'Twas agony, for me as well as my wife. Vanora carries my child."

The woman beside Edward clapped her hands. "Oh, how wonderful! 'Twas what I always wanted for you, Lionel."

Lionheart turned his attention to the woman. "Do I know you, madam?" he asked bluntly.

The woman choked out a sob, her expressive silver eyes bright with longing. "I had hoped . . . but it has been so long and you were just a babe."

Lionheart's fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. "Who are you, madam?"

The woman turned away, too overcome with emotion to reply. Edward stepped into the void. "Greet your mother, Lord Lionheart. The Lady Barbara begged me to escort her to Cragdon so that she might renew your acquaintance."

Rage contorted Lionheart's face. "You are not welcome in my home, madam. Tomorrow I will provide escort back to wherever it is you came from."

He turned away, but Vanora placed herself in front of him, refusing to give way.

"Sit down, Vanora."

"Nay. Lady Barbara is your mother and you are being discourteous. Can you not see how much you have hurt her?"

"What about my feelings? Can you not see that it pains me to have her here?"

Lady Barbara reached out a beseeching hand. "Lionel, my son, please allow me to explain. If you still wish me to leave after you hear me out, I will gladly remove myself from your home and your life."

"I received no explanation when you abandoned me, madam. You knew what my life would be like with my father, but you cared not."

"I have heard her story, Lionheart," Edward said, "and implore you to listen. Think you I would have brought her here if I did not think reconciliation was possible?"

Lionheart gave an impatient wave of his hand. "Naught that woman has to say interests me."

"Please, Lionheart, hear her out for my sake," Vanora pleaded. "For our child's sake."

"Think you words can redeem her in my eyes?"

"Redemption is not what I seek," Lady Barbara said softly. "I but want you to know the truth."

"Why? When I was young, I yearned for a mother to love me. I was only a babe when you abandoned me."

"Lionheart, please," Vanora pleaded.

Lionheart did not want to hear anything his mother had to say, but he could not deny Vanora's request. For her sake he would listen before he sent the woman on her way.

"Very well. I will hear you out after I have supped, but do not expect sympathy, for I have none to give you."

The meal progressed amidst desultory conversation between Lionheart and Edward. Lady Barbara ate sparingly while casting surreptitious glances at her son. When Lionheart finished his meal, he rose abruptly and asked Edward's leave to retire. Once it was granted, Lionheart invited Vanora and Lady. Barbara to join him and stormed from the hall without looking back to see if the women were following.

Lionheart entered the solar and strode to the hearth, staring into the dancing flames. When he heard the ladies enter behind him, his fists clenched at his sides, his white knuckles the only sign of his anguish. Taking a calming breath, he turned to confront his mother.

"Sit down," he bit out. Both ladies obeyed instantly.

He turned back to stare into the fire, seeing naught but the blood red of the flames. The silence in the chamber was profound, broken only by the crackle of a splitting log in the hearth and the breathing of the women seated before it.

He turned abruptly, staring directly at his mother, startled to see his silver eyes reflected in hers.

"How do I know you are my mother?" he barked.

A wave of pain passed over Lady Barbara's features, and Lionheart hardened his heart, refusing to feel any filial sympathy.

"Friends in London will vouch for my identity should you demand it."

Lionheart knew he would not demand it, for he could see himself in her.

"Lionheart, you said you would listen to what Lady Barbara has to say," Vanora reminded him.

He returned his gaze to his mother, who sat rigid and motionless, her hands folded in her lap. "Very well, Lady Barbara, for my wife's sake, I will hear you out. Please proceed."

Lady Barbara sent Vanora a tremulous smile. "Thank you." When she returned her gaze to Lionheart, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

"I never wanted to leave you, my son. Your father cast me from your life and told me if I tried to see you, he would slay both of us. I believed him. I feared for your life; my own was unimportant. Robert was a vicious man. But a day did not go by that I did not yearn for you. 'Twas only after Robert's death that I was able to return to London without fear of reprisal. My first thought was of you and my desperate need to see you again. I sought out Lord Edward and begged him to bring me to you."

Lionheart's disbelief was etched on his glowering features. "If what you say is the truth, 'tis likely my father had good reason to cast you from our lives."

"Was he a good father to you, Lionel? I cannot imagine it, for he was the worst kind of husband to me, though he doubtless turned you against me before you could walk. Before he cast me out, he beat me so badly the nuns at the convent I joined feared I would die of my injuries."

The first stirrings of doubt assailed him. "Father said you took a lover and abandoned us."

Lady Barbara gave him a sad smile. "There was no lover. Your father said what he wished everyone to believe."

"Why did Father cast you out? He must have had good reason."

"It shames me to tell you what really happened."

Vanora clutched Lady Barbara's hand, giving it a squeeze of encouragement.

"Speak freely," Lionheart said. "I can think no less of you than I do now."

"Your father was as deeply in debt back then as he was when he died. He sold everything, leaving you naught but your name. He turned to King Henry for support, becoming one of his courtiers, accepting whatever crumbs the king doled out. But it was not enough to support his extravagant way of life."

Vanora must have noted how hoarse her voice had become, for she poured a goblet of wine and handed it to the older woman. Lady Barbara took a sip, then continued.

"You may find this hard to believe, son, but I swear 'tis the truth. You were but a year old when your father sought to ... sell my services to his friends. He thought it a perfect solution to his lack of funds." Somehow Lionheart could believe it of his father. "Continue."

"I refused, of course, but your father was adamant. One night he locked me in my chamber and sent up a man who had paid him to ... to use me."

She began to weep softly, without making a sound. The silent tears coursing down her cheeks affected Lionheart more deeply than her words.

"What happened?"

"I fought when he tried to force me. I fought for my honor, my pride, for my very life. I... hit the man with a poker, and at first I thought I had killed him."

The tears kept falling. She dug into her sleeve for a handkerchief and fought for control. "When your father learned what I had done, he realized I would not be so easily managed and beat me senseless. I awakened in a convent without any memory of what had transpired. The first years were easy, for I knew not who I was and prayer seemed to bring me solace.

"But as the days and weeks passed, I felt as if something was missing from my life. Two years later my memory returned, and I tried to leave to find you. Apparently, the abbess informed your father of my recovery, for he visited me at the convent and threatened to kill you should I attempt to see you or report what had been done to me. You see," she whispered, "he had already spread the story that I had fled with a lover."

"How tragic," Vanora whispered.

"Since I had nowhere to go, I remained at the convent until the abbess informed me that Sir Robert de Coeur was dead. Free at last, I contacted friends I had not seen in years. They gave me funds to travel to England to find you. Naught in my life was more important than finding my son and making amends."

Lionheart said naught as he regarded his mother through shuttered lids. "You must have feared Father greatly."

"Have I disillusioned you, my son? Did you love your father?"

"I hated him," Lionheart said darkly. "He was no father to me. I saw him infrequently after I was fostered, and not at all after I earned my spurs."

Lady Barbara seemed to breathe easier after Lionheart's admission, but she appeared small and fragile and pathetic beneath the weight of her sad memories.

She arose with effort, seeming older than her years. Her eyes were riveted on Lionheart's face, as if memorizing his features. "You are more handsome than I imagined, everything a mother could want in a son. Thank you for hearing me out."

"Where are you going?" Lionheart asked.

"To the chapel. I want to thank God for giving me a son who rose above his father's cruelty to become the man you are today." She smiled at Vanora. "You are just the kind of woman I always wished for my son. Tell my grandchildren I shall love them just as I have loved their father all these years."

"You may tell them yourself. . . Mother," Lionheart said.

"Thank you, Lionheart," Vanora said quietly.

Incredible joy suffused Lady Barbara's face. "Oh, my son, I have been praying for this day. Not one moment passed during the last twenty-five years that I did not yearn for your love, wondering what kind of man you had become under your father's tutelage. I thank God for guiding you over the years, and for giving you Vanora to love." She sent him a shy smile. "May I hug you?"

Lionheart opened his arms, and his mother walked into them. They remained thus for a long time, until they regained their composure.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you like, Mother," Lionheart said. "I am sure Vanora will be glad for your company."

"It will please me to have you on hand to welcome your first grandchild into the world," Vanora said.

"Aye, I will stay, but Only until your child arrives. After that, I will make do with occasional visits. I do not want to interfere in your lives. 'Tis enough to know that my son has accepted me into his life again. Now if you will excuse me, I still intend to visit the chapel. Nearly a lifetime of prayer is a difficult habit to break."

After Lady Barbara took her leave, Vanora flew into Lionheart's arms. "You have made two women very, very happy. I am so proud of you, Lionheart. It took courage to admit you were mistaken about the woman who birthed you. Your mother was an innocent victim of your father's cruelty, but you suffered as well."

"The suffering was naught compared to how I felt when I thought I had lost you to Daffid, or when I realized you were the White Knight and how close I came to killing you. That was true suffering. I love you with my whole heart, vixen."

Vanora gave him a blissful smile. "Like your name, you possess the heart of a lion, but even lions love. Take me to bed, Lionheart. Hold me and never let me go."