Page 5

Three days after Vanora had taken to her bed, Lionheart stood before her chamber door, his anger building as Mair stubbornly refused him entrance.

The blasted woman would tell him naught except that Vanora's fever was raging and 'twas likely she was contagious.

"Think you I am afraid of infection?" Lionheart roared. "I would see your mistress for myself."

Mair stood like a rock before the door, arms crossed over her ample bosom. "I cannot allow it. Vanora is sleeping and should not be disturbed."

"Christ's blood, woman!" Lionheart roared. "Think you I would hurt your mistress whilst she is ill?"

He heard not Mair's answer over the commotion below. He turned to see Giles and Brandon bursting forth from the staircase onto the gallery.

"Lionheart!" Brandon cried, panting to catch his breath. "Llewellyn’s army is marching toward Cragdon."

"How come you by that information?"

"They were sighted by the patrol."

"Continue."

"The patrol took to high ground and remained unobserved as the army marched past. They returned to Cragdon by a different route to report their sighting."

"How long do we have before they arrive?"

"Several hours. They were moving slowly through the forest to accommodate the foot soldiers."

"Surprise is on our side. Waiting for Llewellyn to attack the castle can only lead to a long siege," Lionheart said after considerable thought.

"What are you going to do?" Giles asked.

"We shall ride out to meet them. Why wait for the attack when we have the element of surprise on our side? We will turn their siege in our favor."

"Our forces are ready to move out at your command," Brandon said.

"We will ride forth as soon as the men are properly armed," Lionheart said. "The sooner the better. Find Alan and send him to fetch my weapons."

Having overheard the exchange, Mair wrung her hands in dismay. If all had gone as planned, Vanora would be with Llewellyn’s advancing army. What was to become of her poor lamb? Briefly she considered divulging Vanora's secret to Lionheart. Were he aware of her secret identity, mayhap he would spare her during the upcoming battle. She decided to confer with Father Caddoc before deciding on a course of action.

As luck would have it, Father Caddoc was in the village on a mission of mercy. During the time it took for Mair to make up her mind, Lionheart and his forces left the keep.

* * *

Lionheart's army traveled swiftly and surely toward Llewellyn’s advancing forces. Lionheart had the kind of mind that coldly calculated winning strategies in battle. He had the ability to ferret out his opponents' weakness, which made him a dangerous foe. Thus, Lionheart called a halt when his forces approached a long, narrow ravine between two thickly wooded hills.

Sir Brandon rode up to join him. "Is something amiss, Lionheart? Why are we stopping?"

"Do you know of a better place for an ambush?" Lionheart queried.

A smile curved Brandon's lips. "Nay. "Tis perfect. The forest will hide our men until Llewellyn’s army enters the pass."

"Aye," Lionheart said. "Deploy the men at both ends of the ravine. I want the exits closed off after the enemy enters. Their only escape will be through the forest, and there is naught we can do about that but give chase."

Brandon saluted smartly, wheeled his horse and rode down the line, issuing instructions.

Immediately the warriors began melting into the forest on either side of the ravine.

Brandon and Giles rode back to join Lionheart.

"Brandon, you direct the attack from the left flank.

Giles, you take the right.

Wait until all of Llewellyn’s warriors have entered our trap before closing off the exits," Lionheart said.

The three men rode off in different directions.

Lionheart moved up the hill to high ground, where he could watch for Llewellyn’s approach, then join the battle where he was most needed.

Three hours later, Lionheart saw the enemy's forces approach the ravine.

Mounted warriors were the first to arrive, followed closely by a mélange of foot soldiers dressed in a variety of clothing ranging from chain mail to fur.

They looked like a savage horde of Welshmen from legends of old. Lionheart recognized Llewellyn in the forefront and one of the two warriors that rode beside him.

Cursing violently, Lionheart stared at the White Knight, vowing to end his miserable life this day.

This time the bastard would not escape him.

But before he ran the Welshman through with his broadsword, he wanted to see fear on his face.

His plan was working, Lionheart thought gleefully as he watched Llewellyn lead his forces into the trap he had set for them.

When the last of the foot soldiers marched into the narrow ravine, Lionheart's warriors poured down from the hills to close off their means of escape.

* * *

Vanora rode proudly beside Llewellyn despite Daffid's objection.

Daffid had acted strangely toward her during her stay at Draymere.

He had questioned her closely concerning her treatment at Lionheart's hands and was convinced that Lionheart had taken her maidenhead, no matter what she said to convince him otherwise.

He was harsher than she remembered, and unappreciative of her attempts to help Llewellyn.

Daffid cared for naught but his own glory.

She knew he did not approve of her fighting like a man, but 'twas time he realized she was not weak, that she would never depend upon a man for protection.

Englishmen had seized her home, and it was her right to defend it.

Her father had trained her for just such an occasion, and naught would stop her from fighting alongside Llewellyn’s warriors for her birthright.

Vanora was bolstered by the fact that Sir Ren and the men who had escaped from the tower had found their way to Llewellyn and now rode behind her.

The only thing that concerned her was the killing that was bound to occur during the heat of battle.

Should they engage in hand-to-hand combat, Vanora did not know if she could kill Lionheart, though doubtless he would have no qualms about ending her life.

Sometime during her stay at Draymere Vanora had come to the realization that she did not thirst for Lionheart's death.

She could not conceive of a world without his vibrant presence.

Though she wanted him driven from her home, she wanted him to live.

Those confusing sentiments were still whirling in her head when she heard Llewellyn yell, " 'Tis a trap!"

Whirling in her saddle, Vanora watched in horror as the surrounding hills came alive with English warriors. They burst forth from the forest mounted and afoot, wielding swords and battle-axes.

"They have sealed the ravine!" Daffid cried, drawing his sword to meet the vanguard of the English forces.

Vanora drew her own sword and braced herself to repel the advancing horde. She clashed with a knight and managed to remain upright as he wielded both sword and battle-ax. She felt the vibrations clear up to her shoulder as her shield took the brunt of the blows. While determination to keep her seat made her oblivious to pain, she wondered how long she could endure. Men stronger than she were being struck down by Lionheart's battle acumen. How had he known Llewellyn’s army was advancing toward Cragdon?

Then she saw him, slashing his way toward her, the gleaming silver of his eyes glinting with malice as he rode inexorably in her direction. She awaited him with stoic resignation, not really wanting to die but aware that death was what Lionheart intended for her.

Suddenly Sir Ren appeared before her, his destrier pawing the air as he brought it up short. "Flee, mistress," he cried. "Leave Lionheart to me."

"I will not flee like a coward," Vanora bit out. "See to your own safety."

"Nay!"

The words had no sooner left his mouth than five former Cragdon knights formed a protective circle around her. Five others aligned themselves beside Ren, swords drawn to repel Lionheart's advance. Several of Lionheart's warriors saw what was happening and came to his defense.

When Vanora realized her own knights were preventing her from joining in the battle, she tried to break through their perimeter. Despite her best efforts, she was slowly but surely being forced away from the line of battle, toward high ground.

Over the roar of battle she heard Lionheart's anguished cry. "Coward! Come back and fight!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw men falling beneath Lionheart's sword, and fear surged through her. It was she Lionheart wanted. It was not fair that others should die protecting her. But when she tried to return to the battlefield, her warriors refused to give way.

Another quick look over her shoulder made the blood freeze in her veins. Lionheart had slashed past Sir Ren's defenses and was pounding after her. From the corner of her eye she saw Llewellyn and Daffid fighting side by side, but to her dismay, it appeared that the battle was lost, that once again Lionheart's forces had defeated Llewellyn’s army.

Even as the thought entered her mind, she saw Llewellyn break away and ride full tilt into the forest. When the Welshmen realized their leader was retreating, they formed a solid line of defense to prevent the Englishmen from giving chase.

"Llewellyn is fleeing!" Giles cried as he rode up beside Lionheart.

Vanora knew Lionheart was torn. He had his own agenda concerning the White Knight, but Llewellyn’s capture was more important to England. She felt his disappointment as keenly as if it were hers when he wheeled his destrier and pounded after Llewellyn.

Vanora wanted to remain but knew the battle was lost. Once Llewellyn left, the heart would go out of the fight, and those warriors fortunate enough to be alive would flee.

Was there no stopping that English devil Lionheart? she wondered. What was she to do now? Should she go into hiding until the Black Wolf of Snowdon reformed his army?

Her choices were limited. Darkness was fast approaching, and she had nowhere to go except home. Besides, she would be of most use to her people where she could keep an eye on Lionheart. "Leave me," she told her warriors. "I shall find my own way back to Cragdon. Return to the battlefield and carry the wounded to their homes."

No one thought to disagree as Vanora spurred her mount and was soon lost amid trees and tangled vines. With any luck, she would arrive home before Lionheart returned. In a day or two she would make a miraculous recovery from her illness. And, God willing, Llewellyn would live to fight another day. Meanwhile, she would do her utmost to make Lionheart's life miserable. Mayhap miserable enough to make him leave Wales.

'Twas nearly dawn when Vanora made her way through the passage to the chapel. She was so exhausted she could scarcely walk. Her chain mail weighed heavily upon her shoulders, and her head ached. The acrid stench of battle remained in her nostrils, and the cries of the wounded still rang in her ears. So many deaths . . . too many. Had the English devils not invaded her land, she and her countrymen would be living in peace and she would be wed to Daffid.

The flickering light of a single candle chased away the shadows as Vanora crept from behind the altar. She found Father Caddoc kneeling at the altar railing. She smiled when she saw his head nodding and realized that he was asleep. Gently she shook his shoulder. He awoke with a start.

"You have returned." His eyes roamed over her mail-clad form. "Are you well?"

"I am unharmed, Father."

He glanced behind her. "You are alone."

Wearily Vanora fell to her knees beside him and buried her face in her hands. "Aye. The battle did not go well."

Father Caddoc nodded. "I suspected as much. Llewellyn’s forces were sighted by an English patrol. Mair overheard Lionheart planning a surprise attack."

"Lionheart caught us off guard in a narrow ravine, sealed off our escape and attacked from both sides."

"How did you get away?"

"My escape was made possible by Cragdon's warriors. They protected me and saw me to safety when I would have preferred to stay and fight. Llewellyn’s forces were in full retreat when I left the battlefield. I am certain those who were not dead or wounded found a safe haven in the hills. Wales is a land of many hiding places with its mountains and forests. It can be a forbidding place to those unfamiliar with the stark face of our landscape."

"You must be exhausted. Find your bed, child," Father Caddoc advised. "Lionheart is sure to inquire about your health upon his return. He has been frantic about you."

Vanora changed into her gown and slowly made her way across the courtyard through the early dawn dampness. Though she heard the banging of pots and the sound of voices coming from the kitchen, she

encountered no one as she climbed the stairs to her chamber. She closed the door behind her, locked it and leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief. Mair awoke at the sound and got to her feet.

Her anxious gaze roamed over Vanora. "Thank God you've returned unharmed. I have been out of my mind with worry since Lionheart's forces rode off to meet Llewellyn’s army."

"Naught went as expected," Vanora said wearily. "Lionheart set a trap for us, and we barely escaped with our lives. I rode for hours without rest to reach home before him. There is not a bone in my body that does not ache."

"Did Lionheart see you with Llewellyn?"

"Aye. I was lucky to escape with my life. Help me undress, Mair, before I fall asleep on my feet."

Mair removed Vanora's clothing, tucked her in bed and tiptoed from the chamber.

* * *

Lionheart was in a rage when he returned. Once again Llewellyn had escaped, and with him the White Knight. It galled him to think that the knight and his protectors had made a fool of him again. He wanted Llewellyn, but he wanted the White Knight even more.

Lionheart stormed into the hall, calling for ale and food. His men had scoured the vicinity for the Welsh warriors until darkness made continuing impossible. By then it had become obvious that Llewellyn and his ragtag army had scattered to God only knew where. But Lionheart had taken one prisoner, and an important one at that.

He had captured Daffid ap Deverell, Vanora's betrothed. By a stroke of luck, Daffid's horse had gone lame and he'd been overtaken. Pleased with the capture, Lionheart called off the search and returned to Cragdon with his prisoner.

Giles followed Lionheart into the hall, prodding Daffid before him. "What shall I do with the prisoner, Lionheart?"

Lionheart glared at Daffid, wondering what Vanora saw in the bearded warrior. Of medium height and stocky like most Welsh warriors, Daffid might be considered handsome if one liked a savage visage, bushy brows and an unruly beard. The thought of Vanora wedding the Welshman was unpalatable. He looked like a man who would demand strict obedience from a woman and employ force to obtain it.

"I will question him," Lionheart said.

Giles shoved Daffid forward. Lionheart sank down onto a bench before the hearth and stretched his hands out to the fire. The night had been damp and chill, and his bones ached from many hours in the saddle. When Daffid stood before him, Lionheart's expression hardened.

"Where is Llewellyn hiding, Daffid ap Deverell?" he asked in Welsh. Since his arrival at Cragdon, he had gained a better understanding of the language and could speak with some fluency now.

Daffid remained stubbornly mute. Giles poked him with the point of his sword. "Speak! Lionheart is not a patient man."

Daffid shot Lionheart a contemptuous look. "Llewellyn does not confide in me. I but follow where he leads."

"Very well. Perhaps you will be more inclined to tell me the name of the white-clad knight who created a diversion at Cragdon's gate after you fled into the castle that day. How did you leave the fortress without being seen?"

"You are mistaken, Englishman. Llewellyn and I never sought refuge at Cragdon. And I know not the knight to whom you refer."

Lionheart's voice was deadly calm, too calm. "Do you not? He was with you and Llewellyn when you entered the ravine."

" 'Twas no one of import," Daffid insisted. His dark gaze left Lionheart and made a sweeping search of the hall. "Where is Vanora? What have you done with her?"

From the corner of his eye, Lionheart spotted Mair and summoned her with a wave of his hand. She approached him warily, wringing her hands, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"How is your mistress? Does her health improve?"

Darting a guarded look at Daffid, Mair said, "Her fever has broken."

"Does that mean you expect a full recovery?" Lionheart probed.

"Aye, though she should remain abed another day or two."

"Has my betrothed been ill?" Daffid asked with mock concern. His contemptuous gaze settled on Lionheart. "Have you made her your whore?"

Naught Daffid had said thus far had riled Lionheart as did the last statement the Welshman had uttered.

Would Daffid set his betrothal aside if Lionheart had taken Vanora's virginity? Was Daffid so small a man that he would blame a woman for something that was not her fault?

"Think what you wish, Daffid ap Deverell." He turned to Giles. "Take him to the dungeon and place a guard at the door. I vow this prisoner will not escape like the others."

The hall became a beehive of activity as men wandered in to break their fast after a long day and longer night. Lionheart ate and drank mechanically, tasting little of what went into his mouth. Though exhausted beyond endurance, he could not seek his rest until he had looked in on Vanora. He had not seen her in several days and wanted to reassure himself that she was indeed recovering. He rose and was moving toward the stairs when Father Caddoc intercepted him.

"A moment, Sir Lionheart," Father Caddoc said.

"Hurry, Father, for I am weary unto death."

"Mair told me Daffid ap Deverell is your prisoner."

"Aye, so he is."

"What do you intend for him?"

"Mayhap I will make an example of him and order his execution." Lionheart was so angry with Daffid he would gladly strangle the man himself. Calling Vanora a whore was beyond despicable. Even if Lionheart had taken Vanora's maidenhead, labeling her a whore would be unfair.

"I wish to speak to Daffid. Mayhap I can offer comfort in his darkest hour."

"Nay, I refuse your request. Daffid is to have no visitors. He will not escape like Cragdon's warriors did. I know Vanora aided them, and that they left through a secret tunnel, but I have yet to find it. Do not ask for visiting rights again," he said dismissively.

Lionheart continued up the staircase to Vanora's chamber, opened the door and walked inside without knocking. Surprised to find her unattended, Lionheart approached the bed. She was sleeping, just as Mair had said, but her sleep appeared troubled, for she mumbled incoherently and tossed restlessly.

Extending his hand, he rested it briefly on her forehead, relieved to find it cool to his touch. Bending low, he tried to make out her words, but naught she said made sense. Assured that her health was no longer in jeopardy, Lionheart sought his own bed.

* * *

Vanora slept through the rest of the day and night and awoke refreshed the following morning. Ravenous, she asked Mair to fetch food, then quickly devoured the entire contents of the tray.

"Has Lionheart returned?" Vanora asked.

"Aye," Mair answered. "In a mood as black as sin."

"Did Llewellyn escape?"

"Aye."

Before Mair could tell her about Daffid, Vanora said, "We will speak further after I have bathed and dressed."

"Aye, I already ordered your bath."

* * *

Resting her head against the rim, Vanora soaked in the hot tub while she considered her next course of action. Torn by indecision, she did not know whether she should leave and find Daffid or remain at Cragdon until Llewellyn reorganized his army. Daffid had been angry with her and had unjustly accused her of bedding Lionheart. Furthermore, he had refused to acknowledge her timely intervention when he and Llewellyn were desperate to escape Edward's army, and he seemed resentful of her warrior skills.

Suddenly aware that the water was growing cold, Vanora reached for the drying cloth Mair had draped over a nearby bench and rose. She had just stepped from the tub when her chamber door opened and Lionheart stepped inside. Vanora froze, the cloth dangling in her fingers as Lionheart's glittering gaze traveled slowly over her nude form. A rosy flush started at her toes and climbed up her body to her hairline.

"Get out!" she cried, wrapping the skimpy cloth around her body. It barely covered her, baring her incredibly long legs and the upper swells of her breasts.

"I think not," Lionheart replied in a voice suddenly taut with desire. "I am pleased to see you have recovered from your illness." He kicked the door shut with his heel and stalked toward her. "I knew you would be exceptionally lovely, but I had no idea how well made you were. Never have I seen such long legs on a woman."

Vanora backed away. "Do not stare at me like that. I am no different from any other woman."

"I beg to differ. I have seen my share of naked women, and without exception they are soft-fleshed and weak-willed. You are neither."

"It pleases me that I am too masculine for your tastes," Vanora retorted. "Turn your head while I don my chamber robe."

Lionheart laughed. "Masculine? Hardly. You are sleek and lithe like a cat but fleshed out in places that proclaim your womanhood." He stared at her bare arms. "Are those muscles I spy, my lady? How come you by muscles?" His gaze slid down her torso. "Have you thigh muscles to match those in your arms?" His eyes darkened from silver to smoky gray. "Or muscles in places that the eye cannot see? I look forward to discovering them for myself."

Vanora was not stupid. She knew precisely what he meant. When she turned to flee, Lionheart grasped the drying cloth and yanked it from her fingers. Caught like a rabbit in a trap, Vanora tried to cover herself with her hands. Laughing, Lionheart pulled her against him, his hands roving freely over the soft skin of her back and buttocks. A slow heat coursed through her veins as Lionheart groaned her name and sought her lips.

Wherever he touched, she burned. Sweet Lord, what was he doing to her? An all-consuming need spiraled through her as his hands sought her breasts and his tongue explored her mouth with slow deliberation. He kissed her until her head was reeling and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. With an effort born of desperation, she broke free and shoved against his chest.

"Stop! I will not let you dishonor me."

"Methinks you protest too much. You want me, Vanora. I felt your lips quivering beneath mine and tasted your excitement."

"Nay, I want you not."

"Yet I shall have you, my lady."

Seeking to divert Lionheart's attention as well as her own, Vanora said, "Mair said you rode out to meet Llewellyn. Did you capture him?"

"Nay." Her words succeeded in easing the tension as Lionheart moved away and began to pace. Taking advantage of his distraction, Vanora snatched her chamber robe from the bed and pulled it on.

"The man is wily as a fox," Lionheart complained. "His luck cannot hold out forever."

"I pray it does."

Lionheart regarded her through shuttered eyes. "No matter what you pray, I came away from the battle victorious. Llewellyn has fled and his army scattered to the winds. 'Twill be a long time, if ever, before his ragtag army becomes a viable force again. I doubt he will pose a threat to England in the future."

"You are wrong!" Vanora hotly denied. "Llewellyn will not rest until the English leave us in peace."

Frustrated by her stubbornness and his own lustful need to possess her, Lionheart suddenly thought of a way to punish her and at the same time gain what he desired most. . . her body.

"Aye, Llewellyn escaped but I did return with a prisoner. Someone close to the Black Wolf."

Vanora's heart constricted. "Anyone I know?"

Secretly gloating, Lionheart said, "Daffid ap Deverell."

"Daffid? You captured Daffid?"

"Did I not just say so?"

"Where is he? What. . . what are you going to do with him?"

"He is locked in the dungeon. As for his fate, I considered letting Edward deal with him when he arrives, but I've changed my mind. Llewellyn and his followers need to be taught a lesson. I shall make an example of Daffid and order his execution."

Color drained from Vanora's face as she staggered to a bench and dropped down upon it. " 'Tis inhuman. Say it is not so."

"I will not lie to you, Vanora. I have most definitely decided to execute Daffid."

"English devil! Monster! Have you no mercy, no compassion? Is there aught I can do to save him?"

Lionheart pretended to reconsider. "Mayhap there is a way."

Vanora leapt to her feet. "Tell me! What must I do to save Daffid?"

"Become my leman," Lionheart replied. "Lie with me for as long as I remain at Cragdon, and I will spare Daffid's life."

Vanora recoiled in revulsion. "Why do you want me? You like me not."

"I said no such thing, Vanora. 'Tis you who decided we should be enemies. I like all women, English, Irish, Welsh, Scot or Frank; they all serve a purpose."

"Is that all women are to you? A warm body? Any man that thinks a woman is naught but a vessel for his lust does not deserve a wife. I pity the woman you wed."

"I neither need nor want a wife," Lionheart said. "They are naught but trouble. I seek my pleasure where I will and with whom I please."

"One day some woman will make you eat those words," Vanora predicted.

"Such strong words coming from so sweet a mouth," Lionheart said in a husky purr. "What say you, Vanora? How badly do you want to save Daffid's life? Enough to lie in my arms and take me into your body?"

Indignation stiffened her spine. "I cannot betray Daffid in that way."

"Not even to save his life?"

"Nay . . . Oh, I do not know."

"Mayhap I can convince you."

His arms went around her, forcing her against the heat of his body as his lips devoured hers, draining her very soul from her being. It should not be like this, Vanora thought. Why was her will not strong enough to resist Lionheart's powerful allure? She was not a weak woman; why did she feel as though she were being pulled into the vortex of a raging storm?

Breaking off the kiss, Lionheart stared down into her eyes, his questioning gaze demanding but one answer. "What shall it be, Vanora? Your betrothed's life depends upon your answer."

She returned his gaze, unable to form a reply. She was saved from committing herself when the door was flung open, admitting a vengeful Father Caddoc.

"For shame, Sir Lionheart!" he challenged. "Remove yourself from Vanora's chamber."

"Nay, Father, I will not. 'Tis my right to take whatever I desire from Cragdon."

"If you want Vanora, you will have to wed her," Father Caddoc declared.

"Father!" Vanora cried.

Lionheart tossed back his head and laughed. "Marriage? Nay, Father, marriage is not for me. Not even Vanora is worth my freedom."

" 'Tis the only way you can have her," the priest vowed. "Be gone, Satan!"

Lionheart slanted Vanora a look ripe with challenge. "Do not take too long to decide, Vanora, for I am not a patient man." Whirling, he strode away, his laughter ringing harshly in her ears.