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Vanora took a deep breath to still her racing heart. "What did I do? I was nowhere near the tower. Ask the guards if you do not believe me."

"I intend to," Lionheart said with deceptive calm. "Stay where you are. I will deal with you after I get to the bottom of this."

He stormed from the chapel, and for a long time Vanora could do naught but stare at the place where he had stood. Dread created a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

What would Lionheart do to her?

Fear that he would blame Father Caddoc, Mair and ultimately her for releasing the prisoners weighed heavily on her. Lionheart was a harsh man. Had her rash act placed the lives of the two people she loved most in jeopardy? Though she knew Lionheart's mercy would not extend to her, she wanted to ... had to believe he would not hurt her friends.

"He is angry, child," Father Caddoc warned.

"You had best escape now while you have the chance. You may not find another."

"Mayhap you are right, Father, You and Mair must come with me."

"I will stay," the priest maintained. "I am a man of God; he can do naught to me. But you and Mair must go. I will find her and bring her to you,"

"Aye, Father, you are wiser than I. My knights are gone and cannot be punished for what I have done. "Tis time for me to leave. I will find Llewellyn and Daffid."

Father Caddoc hurried off to fetch Mair. Vanora knelt to pray for her safe journey. Unfortunately, Lionheart appeared with Sir Giles at that very moment.

Hands on hips, his face contorted in fury, he roared, "How did you do it?"

"I ... did naught."

"Do not lie, vixen. You sent the White Knight to lure me from the keep, then released the prisoners while I was gone." He held out his hand, palm up. "The spare key to the tower room—give it to me."

"There is no spare key. I went nowhere near the tower. Did your guards not tell you?"

"Aye, but men do not disappear into thin air. I was told your priest and tiring woman brought water for the prisoners this morn."

Father Caddoc and Mair entered the chapel in time to hear Lionheart's words. "Vanora knows naught," the priest maintained.

Lionheart turned his icy glare on the priest and Vanora's tiring woman. "Explain to me how you released the prisoners," he ordered harshly. "I know Vanora put you up to it, so do not try to tell me otherwise."

" 'Twas a miracle," Father Caddoc said, lifting his eyes heavenward. "Your guards were in the gatehouse. How could anyone leave the castle without their knowledge?"

"That is what I want to know. If my men were remiss in their duty, I will see them punished."

Vanora sent a warning glance to the priest. Apparently, the guards in the tower feared to admit they had left their post, however briefly. Lionheart's justice would be swift and fierce should he find out.

"We know naught," the priest repeated. "We carried water to the tower and left."

"Where was Vanora during this time?"

"In her chamber."

Lionheart's stern gaze found Vanora. Unflinchingly she returned his gaze.

"Did you not see the White Knight at our gate?"

"Nay, my chamber faces the river. I saw naught."

"Am I to believe the prisoners flew out the window?"

" 'Tis as good an explanation as any."

"Giles!" Lionheart roared. "Take Lady Vanora to the solar and lock her inside. We shall see if she can fly out the window." To Vanora, he said, "We will continue this conversation later."

"Do not hurt her, Sir Lionheart," Mair pleaded.

"Unless your mistress tells me the truth," Lionheart bit out, "I can make no promises, for she has sorely tried my patience."

"Come, my lady," Giles said, taking her arm and urging her from the chapel.

"I shall go with Vanora," Mair said.

"Nay, you will not!" Lionheart roared. "Not until I solve this mystery. I do not believe in miracles."

"Perhaps you should," Father Caddoc replied dryly.

* * *

When word got out about the prisoners' miraculous escape, Lionheart's men began crossing themselves and muttering about witches and spells. Lionheart was at a loss. Four trusted men had been left behind, two in the gatehouse and two in the tower, and the gatekeepers swore that the portcullis had not been raised during his

absence. The prisoners could not have gotten past them without being seen. If he were not a rational man, he might believe it was a miracle.

But since he was a rational man, the only explanation was a tunnel. All castles had them, for they provided an escape route during times of siege. With that thought in mind, he placed Sir Brandon in charge of finding another way in and out of the keep.

'Twas nearly time to sup when Lionheart's anger finally eased enough for him to confront Vanora. He climbed the stairs to the solar, unlocked the door and entered the chamber. His glittering gaze found Vanora sitting in the window seat. She stiffened when she saw him but did not flinch as he stalked toward her.

"Do your worst, sir knight. I fear you not."

His eyes held a wicked gleam. "Perhaps you should. Are you prepared to tell me how the prisoners escaped?"

"I know not." Her gaze flew to his belt. "Will you beat me?"

"I find beatings ineffectual when dealing with women. Does the keep have a secret tunnel?"

Her eyes widened, but her voice held steady. "If there is one, Father neglected to inform me."

Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her to her feet.

The color drained from her face. "What are you going to do?"

There were many things Lionheart wanted to do to her. Press her down onto the bed, cover her with his body and thrust his cock into her warm center. He tried to summon his earlier anger but could not. Though no proof showed that Vanora had released the prisoners, common sense suggested she was guilty.

"Naught, if you tell the truth." He stared at her lips. How could a mouth so lush and inviting spew lies so easily? A jolt of lust stiffened his loins.

His fingers tightened on her shoulders, and against his better judgment he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her ravenously, his mouth hot and demanding, his hands sliding down her body to her curvy bottom, pressing her against his hardening loins. He knew by her reaction that she had felt his erection and he deepened the kiss, prodding her mouth open with the bold thrust of his tongue.

What Lionheart had intended to be punishment soon turned into something totally unexpected: He enjoyed kissing her too much. Relished holding her soft body against his. Despite her resistance, he could tell his kisses did not repel her by the way her mouth softened, by the way her body arched. No, this was definitely not punishment. This was pleasure. Pleasure he never expected to find in remote Wales.

Vanora was the essence of the country in which she lived: wild, untamed, savage in her beliefs and strong of body and will. God help him, he wanted her. A low growl escaped his throat as he began tearing off her clothing. He had managed to remove her overtunic before Vanora found the strength to resist.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving us what we both want," Lionheart growled as he dragged her toward the bed.

"Is rape to be my punishment?"

Lionheart went still. "Rape? I am a knight and do not take my vows lightly. I have never resorted to rape to get what I wanted. Women clamor for my attention."

Vanora sniffed. "Not this woman. Release me, sir knight,"

"Deny it all you wish, but your body tells me you are not immune to my attentions."

"I am saving myself for Daffid, my betrothed," Vanora said, breaking free and backing away.

"He will never have you!" The vehemence of his words startled him. One day soon he would leave Cragdon and never return. What Vanora did after he left should not concern him. It was up to Edward to decide Cragdon's fate, and ultimately Vanora's, so why was he so adamantly opposed to Vanora's marriage?

"Come to me, and I shall put in a good word for you with Edward."

"Edward is in England," Vanora replied. "Much could happen before your prince arrives. Mayhap Llewellyn will wrest Cragdon from you."

Lionheart laughed. " 'Tis highly unlikely, vixen." He stalked toward her, crowding her against the bed. "I can make you want me with little effort. Shall I show you how easy it would be to coax you into my bed?"

Vanora retreated until the bed was at her back and she could go no farther. She feared this man, not his strength or his temper, but his ability to make her forget he was her enemy. His kisses were a potent drug that rendered her helpless, and his penetrating silver gaze delved too deeply into her soul.

Her chin notched upward. She did not want Lionheart. 'Twas Daffid she wanted. All Englishmen were beasts who raped her homeland as Lionheart would rape her. Her thoughts skidded to a halt when Lionheart pressed her backward onto the bed. She fell in a heap of twisted skirts and bared limbs. Then Lionheart was atop her, his body crushing hers into the furs and his mouth seeking the lush softness of her lips.

His hand slid up the outside of her leg, hot, hard, seeking. She shivered when his hand turned inward, skimming along the inside of her thigh, climbing higher, ever higher, until he reached confinement had also occurred to her as a possible punishment. Yet Lionheart had done the opposite of what she had expected. Caution was called for. She trusted him not.

Before Vanora reached the dais, Mair intercepted her. Her old nursemaid took both Vanora's hands in hers and searched her face. "What did he do to you, Iambic? Are you hurt? Has he touched you improperly?" Vanora squeezed Mair's hands. "I am fine. Do not worry, I can take care of myself."

"Aye, I know your capabilities better than anyone," Mair said. "Does he know?" she whispered, rolling her eyes toward Lionheart.

"Mair, hush!" Vanora warned. No telling what Lionheart would do were he to learn she was the mystery knight he sought. His foe would not receive the same leniency he had afforded Lady Vanora, she guessed.

"Find your seat, Mair," Lionheart said dismissively. "As you can see, your mistress is unhurt. But I am not done with her. Someone must be punished for releasing the prisoners."

"Then you must punish me, master," Mair said. " Tis I who unlocked the door."

"What are you saying, Mair?" Father Caddoc said from behind the old woman. " 'Tis I who unlocked the door."

Dismay widened Vanora's violet eyes. Were they both mad? "Nay! I alone am to blame!"

"Enough!" Lionheart roared. "The one who returns the spare key to me will be held responsible and duly punished."

Vanora realized a spare key would not be forthcoming, because there was none. "Please, say no more," she warned Mair and the priest, her eyes conveying her fear for them. "I will speak with you both later."

Wringing her hands, Mair hurried off, but Father Caddoc lingered, his eyes full of righteous

fury. "Touch her and the wrath of God will fall upon you."

"I doubt it not, Father," Lionheart said. "Rest easy. I left your lady's maidenhead intact."

"I will await you in the chapel to hear your confession, child," Father Caddoc said to Vanora in parting.

"How often do you feel the need to confess?" Lionheart asked her with a hint of amusement.

"More often than you, I wager," she retorted. "Do you forbid me to seek absolution from my confessor?"

"Nay, confess to your heart's content. Be sure to tell him you lie on a regular basis." He slanted her an appraising look. "Methinks Cragdon abounds with liars. You, your priest, your tiring woman, all of you are withholding information. But I am a patient man."

Lionheart pulled out a chair and waited until Vanora was seated before seating himself. Immediately his squire filled his cup with wine. Then Lionheart piled food on his trencher and offered Vanora a tender morsel of succulent veal.

"I am perfectly capable of feeding myself," Vanora said, whipping out her eating knife and spearing a piece of meat.

"Aye, you are capable of many things," Lionheart said meaningfully.

Vanora gave him a smug smile. "You have no idea, sir knight."

The church bells were tolling compline and all was quiet in the keep when Vanora departed her chamber. Wrapped in her cloak, she left the hall and traversed the short distance to the chapel nestled against the curtain wall that rose above the riverbank. Father Caddoc was waiting for her.

"Are you sure you are unharmed?" the priest asked.

"I am fine, Father. Was there something urgent you wished to say to me? Have you news of Llewellyn or Daffid?"

"Aye. I visited the village today and learned that Llewellyn and Daffid are staying at Draymere, Daffid's keep. They are mustering forces to launch an attack upon Cragdon."

"Draymere is but a half day's ride from here," Vanora said excitedly. "When I was a child, I visited often with Father. I shall join them and fight with Llewellyn’s army."

"What will I tell Lionheart when he learns you have left the keep?"

"Tell him. .." Naught came to mind. She thought for a moment, then brightened in sudden inspiration. "I shall pretend to be ill and take to my bed. You and Mair can keep Lionheart away from my chamber until I return with Llewellyn’s forces. Tell him I have something deadly and contagious. Most men fear sickness of any kind."

"When will this sudden illness strike?" Father Caddoc asked.

"There will be an abrupt onset of symptoms tomorrow. I shall retire to my chamber and leave at matins. Wait for me in the chapel."

"I know I advised you to leave, but I have no good feeling about this, child," the priest said, shaking his head. "Mayhap you should remain here where it is safe until Llewellyn and Daffid begin their siege of Cragdon. You gain naught by placing yourself in danger. What if you are hurt? Even the best of warriors sustain wounds."

"I cannot stay here," Vanora said fiercely. "I fear . . ."

"What do you fear, child?"

I fear for my heart, my soul, my very being. Lionheart threatened everything she stood for, everything she was. His kisses moved her powerfully; just looking at him made her tremble. Enemy or nay, he made her yearn

for things that only a husband had the right to offer. His eyes, riveting in their intensity, rested on her far too often for comfort.

"Naught. I fear naught," she lied. "My home is no longer my own. 'Tis impossible to live beneath the thumb of my enemy."

Father Caddoc's probing gaze looked deeper and saw far more than Vanora had wished. "Are you sure that is the reason you wish to leave, child? What is betwixt you and Lionheart that you are not telling me?"

"Naught but enmity, Father. I can do naught here to help Llewellyn. I shall join his army and fight for Cragdon as my father would were he alive. Do not try to dissuade me, for my mind is made up. Will you help me? I have already spoken to Mair, and she has agreed."

After a long pause, the priest sighed and said, "Aye, and may God forgive me if you should suffer an injury."

"Naught will happen to me, Father." Impulsively she kissed his cheek. "Good night."

"A little more flour on my face, Mair," Vanora directed as she prepared to go below for the midday meal.

"Any more and you will look like a ghost," Mair cautioned. "Lionheart is not stupid. He will detect the artifice if you overdo."

"Very well. Just make sure I took pale enough to have an illness that will confine me in my chamber for several days."

Mair stepped back to inspect her work. "I have done all I can to make you look ill. The rest is up to you. Remember to act less than your usual exuberant self."

"Wish me luck," Vanora said as she went out the door.

* * *

Lionheart had seen naught of Vanora the entire day and wondered what mischief she was up to. If she did not appear for the midday meal, he intended to go to her chamber and fetch her. Summoning Vanora was not necessary, however, for she walked into the hall a few minutes later.

Frowning, Lionheart watched her dragging steps and knew immediately that something was amiss. A niggling fear assailed him when he noted her pasty complexion. She looked pale and drawn and lacked her usual vitality.

"Are you ill?" Lionheart asked.

Vanora gave him a wan smile. "I fear so. I kept to my bed this morn, hoping it would pass, but I feel little better than I did upon awakening."

She pushed her food around on her trencher, then turned away, her expression filled with repugnance.

"Does the food not please you? Mayhap Cook will fix you something more to your liking."

"I have no appetite," Vanora said with a sigh.

Lionheart stared at Vanora's bent head and felt a helplessness he could not explain. He knew naught of sickness, for he had never been ill. What if she died? The thought sent shivers down his spine. He refused to consider Vanora's death.

"Summon your tiring woman," Lionheart said. "I would speak to her about your malaise."

Lionheart did not see Vanora's smile as with a wave of her hand she summoned Mair to attend her. Mair joined her immediately, grave concern etching her worn features.

"Look at you," Mair clucked. "I told you to remain in bed. What if you are contagious and infect the entire keep?"

Mair's words had the desired effect. An innate fear of illness made most men tremble, and those assembled in the hall were no different.

"Think you Vanora is contagious?" Lionheart asked.

Mair shrugged. "I know not, Sir Lionheart. We must wait for spots to appear to know if 'tis smallpox. It could be the sweating sickness, but symptoms are yet unclear."

"You are the healer. Can you not heal your own mistress?"

"Vanora is stubborn," Mair claimed. "I told her to remain abed, but she refused to listen."

Suddenly Vanora slumped over. Lionheart leapt to his feet and swept her into his arms. "Damn you, woman," he roared, fixing Mair with a frosty glare. "I will take Vanora to her bed, but 'tis up to you to keep her there until she is well. Report daily to me on her condition. Should she die, you will be held responsible and suffer for it."

"I will do my best, master," Mair whined. "But it may be days before I can put a name to my lady's affliction."

Lionheart sprinted up the stairs with Vanora's limp form in his arms. He was loath to put her down when

he reached her chamber, but good sense prevailed and he gently placed her on her bed. "Care for her well, Mair," Lionheart ordered gruffly. "If there is a change, I want to know immediately."

Lionheart returned to the hall to finish his meal, but his mind was not on food. Vanora's wan face was imprinted upon his brain. Her expressive eyes had lost their customary sparkle, and her body lacked the spirit that defined her character. The flame within her had been dimmed.

Never in his lifetime had Lionheart thought he would care so much about a woman's health. He had grown up without a mother, and his father had had little use for women after Lionheart's mother had abandoned them. Lionheart did not despise women, but although he loved them for the pleasure they gave him, he trusted them not. From his earliest childhood, Lionheart remembered his father telling him women were a faithless lot, that his own mother had abandoned him for a lover.

Sir Robert led the life of a wastrel, but he had been the injured party in the marriage, and Lionheart had decided early on to love not with the heart but with the body. And since Lionheart had no wealth or lands to leave an heir, he had no reason to wed. Besides, if his own mother had not loved him, what woman would?

Vanora's delicate state of health, however, was worrisome. He wanted to believe he was worried because she could infect his men with disease, but an inner voice whispered otherwise. Pushing these disturbing thoughts aside, Lionheart finished his meal and turned his mind to the hunting party he was planning. 'Twas best he busy himself while awaiting developments in Vanora's condition. Pacing the hall and brooding would do neither him nor Vanora any good.

When Lionheart returned from the hunt later that day, he sent for Mair and was informed that Vanora had become feverish but was resting as comfortably as possible under the circumstances. When he voiced his intention to visit the patient, Mair denied him.

"No one may visit until I know the nature of Vanora's illness," Mair told him.

"Make her well, woman. I command it," Lionheart said.

* * *

That night when everyone was abed, Vanora left the keep by way of the chapel. Clad in chain mail and helm, she retrieved her horse from the village and rode through the moonlit night to Draymere, secure in the knowledge that her absence would not be noted for several days. By the time Lionheart discovered her deception, she planned to be on her way back to Cragdon with Llewellyn’s army in tow.

A misty dusk had settled over the ground when Vanora finally reached Draymere. She boldly approached the portcullis of the small fortress, hailed the sentry and gave her name. Long moments passed before Llewellyn and Daffid strode from the keep. When they reached the gate, she pulled off her helm and smiled at them. Immediately Llewellyn ordered the portcullis to be raised.

"I recognized your white tabard," Llewellyn said as she rode through the opening.

"What are you doing here?" Daffid asked. "I like it not when you dress as a warrior and place yourself in danger."

"I can fight as well as you or any man," Vanora retorted. "Besides, did I not clash swords with Lionheart so you and Llewellyn could flee? Even though I knew I could not win the day, I made your escape possible."

"Vanora is right, Daffid," Llewellyn acknowledged. "She placed herself in grave danger for us."

"Nevertheless, I prefer my bride to look like a woman. What are you doing here, Vanora?"

"I heard you were gathering forces to attack Lionheart and came to help."

"Has Lionheart harmed you?" Daffid asked tautly. "I heard he offers no mercy to his prisoners."

"He has done me no harm," Vanora assured him.

"How were you able to leave without being followed?"

"By pretending to be ill and taking to my bed. I wanted to be with you when you storm Cragdon. And I wanted to tell you that presently Lionheart's army outnumbers yours. The barracks was too small to hold them all, and the overflow have bivouacked in the outer bailey."

"We have a plan," Daffid said. "While half our forces create a diversion at the outer walls, the other half will enter through the tunnel and take the unsuspecting Englishmen by surprise."

" 'Tis a good plan," Vanora allowed, "but you must not kill Lionheart. He is a favorite of Edward's and should be captured and held for ransom."

"I can promise naught," Daffid said. "You should not have left Cragdon. When we lay siege to the fortress, you will remain behind at Draymere where it is safe."

"Nay! I left Cragdon so that I might ride with your army."

The thought of Lionheart's death did not sit easy upon her. She needed to be on hand to prevent unnecessary slaughter. When Llewellyn’s forces gained control of Cragdon, she intended to make sure that bloodshed was kept to a minimum. The Englishmen were more valuable to Llewellyn alive than dead, especially Lionheart. The ransom would go a long way to help her people's cause.

"Nay!" Daffid stubbornly maintained.

Vanora turned to Llewellyn. "What say you, Llewellyn?"

"Your determination is as strong as your sword arm, Vanora," Llewellyn said. "I can find no reason to deny your request."