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"What did Lionheart mean, child?" Father Caddoc asked. "Mair fetched me when she saw him enter your chamber. We both feared that Lionheart would lure you into sinning against God's commandments."

"Worry not, Father," Vanora soothed in an effort to allay his fears. "I can handle Lionheart. You should not have mentioned marriage to him; I am betrothed to Daffid."

"No formal papers were signed. Besides, breaking a betrothal is less a sin than fornication. Tis better to marry the devil than be ravaged by one. Do you desire Lionheart, child?"

"Nay! How could you think such a thing?"

"I have lived a long time and see things that others do not. If I am wrong, forgive me. You must love Daffid very much."

Vanora's hesitation spoke volumes about her feelings for her betrothed. "As well you know, the betrothal was verbally agreed upon by Daffid and Father, but I know I will grow to love him."

Father Caddoc looked unconvinced. "I shall pray that God gives you the strength to resist Lionheart's seduction, for I fear that is what he has in mind for you."

If you only knew, Vanora thought, recalling Lionheart's determination to have her in his bed.

"Did you know Daffid had been captured and placed in Cragdon's dungeon? Lionheart intends to execute him."

Father Caddoc paled and quickly made the sign of the cross. "God preserve us all. I shall pray for his immortal soul."

"He is not dead yet, Father. Mayhap you should pray that he escapes the fate Lionheart has planned for him."

"So I shall, child. Take heart, all is not lost yet. I shall be in the chapel should you need me."

Vanora bolted the door after the priest left so she could dress without fear of Lionheart barging into her chamber. Never again would she allow herself to be alone with him. He was too powerful, too masculine, too sexually attractive for her peace of mind. Compared to Daffid, whom she had never even kissed, Lionheart was sin personified.

She must not allow herself to be tempted by him.

Not even to save Daffid's life? a little voice within her asked.

Therein lay her dilemma. Did she have a choice? She would not be able to live with herself if she let Daffid die while the means to save him lay within her grasp. Giving herself to Lionheart was a small price to pay for her betrothed's life. Her maidenhead would be of little use if Daffid died. That thought brought another. Daffid already believed Lionheart had stolen her innocence.

Her decision, however, was not an easy one. Before agreeing to lie with Lionheart, she was determined to explore other means of saving Daffid. She prayed that Lionheart's patience would hold.

A short time later, Vanora tried to visit Daffid and was turned away. Duties kept her occupied until the tables were being set up for the evening meal; then she made another attempt to visit her betrothed.

"Let me take him some food," Vanora pleaded with the guard. "Even prisoners have to eat."

"The prisoner has not been denied food," the guard answered.

"What harm will it do to let me visit him?" Vanora argued.

" Tis for Lionheart to decide," the guard replied, apparently unmoved by Vanora's plea.

Hands on hips, Vanora said, "Very well, I shall take my request to Lionheart."

"Did you wish to speak to me, my lady?"

Hearing Lionheart's voice, Vanora whirled to face him. "I wish to see Daffid. How do I know he is not being mistreated?"

"Because I say he is not."

"I trust you not!"

He grasped her elbow and steered her away from the dungeon. "Come away. 'Tis time to sup."

Vanora dug in her heels. "When may I see Daffid?"

"He is not worthy of you."

"How can you say that? You know him not."

"Do you love him?"

"He is my betrothed."

" 'Tis not what I asked. Do you love him?"

"Of. . . course. 'Tis my duty to love my betrothed."

Her answer seemed to please him. "Have you decided to accept my proposal?"

She shook her head. "I will decide after I have spoken with Daffid and not before."

"Stubborn wench," Lionheart growled, pulling her against him. He would have kissed her had Vanora not turned her face aside.

"The guard," she hissed. "Do not shame me before one of your men."

"Most women would consider it an honor to become my leman. Even the king has his mistresses."

"You are no king," Vanora said with haughty disdain.

Laughter rumbled in Lionheart's chest. Wiping away tears of mirth, he said, "What a merry chase you lead me, vixen. I cannot wait to have you writhing beneath me. Come along, our meal is waiting."

"When will you allow me to visit Daffid?" Vanora persisted.

"Never. Unless," he added in a voice taut with desire, "you come to my bed tonight."

"Then we are at an impasse, sir knight, for I must see Daffid before I make my decision."

"I suggest you reach a decision before Daffid's scheduled execution."

Vanora paled and went still. "You have already set a time?"

"Aye. His head will be removed from his body three days hence. You alone can prevent his death."

"Bastard!" Vanora hissed. "You push me too far." Whirling away from him, she stomped off.

Lionheart could not prevent the grin that curved his lips. Aye, he was pushing Vanora, pushing her into

his bed. The twinge of guilt he felt was quickly banished when he pictured Vanora stretched out beneath him, her glorious sable hair spread out on the pillow, his cock buried deep inside her.

He knew instinctively that she would be passionate, and he fully intended to explore her passion to the fullest. He was not an inconsiderate lover. He would make sure Vanora experienced pleasure, and he would initiate her to sex gently. He was not a ravager of women. Forcing himself on creatures weaker than himself was not his way; he preferred his women submissive and willing. He prided himself on following the knight's code of honor. He had never raped a woman nor forced himself on an unwilling maiden. Seduction, however, was an art he used without guilt or self-recrimination.

Daffid did not deserve Vanora, Lionheart decided. He doubted he would actually execute Daffid even if Vanora remained stubborn. Of one thing he was certain, however: Daffid would not have Vanora. The man was unappreciative of her special qualities.

* * *

After a restless night, Vanora stared out the window at the gray skies and pouring rain, pulling her mantle closer about her to ward off the chill. Cragdon was comfortable most of the time, but the thick stone walls did naught to keep out the dampness. Only today and one other remained before Daffid was beheaded, and she was the only one who could prevent the tragedy. It was a heavy burden to bear.

Even more distressing was the knowledge that she could not stop wondering what it would be like to make love with Lionheart. The attraction between them was intense, though she would deny it vigorously. His kisses made her tremble with longing for something she knew was wicked, and his hands upon her made her think sinful thoughts. Turning away from the window, Vanora clutched her mantle close about her and left her chamber. She needed to see Daffid before responding to Lionheart's ultimatum. Would Daffid want her to accept Lionheart's indecent proposal? Or would he rather die than see his betrothed dishonored? Vanora hoped to pose those questions to him very soon.

* * *

The hall was bustling with activity when Vanora sat down to break her fast after morning Mass. The inclement weather prevented normal outdoor activities, and groups of men huddled around the hearth, engaged in dicing and card games. Lionheart was nowhere in sight.

A servant placed bread, cheese and ale before her, and she ate with good appetite. She saw Mair and called to the tiring woman to join her. "What news is there of Llewellyn?" Vanora asked in a hushed voice.

"I have heard naught," Mair replied. "Mayhap you should ask Father Caddoc. He was in the village yesterday."

"Where is Lionheart?"

"He left with the huntsmen early this morning."

"Doubtless he will return wet and chilled and in a foul mood," Vanora predicted.

Vanora spent the morning supervising candle making, but she had not forgotten Mair's advice about questioning Father Caddoc for news of Llewellyn. Later that day she sought him in the

chapel.

"What news have you of Llewellyn?" she asked

anxiously.

"Naught, child. No one seems to know where he has taken himself. His army has scattered to the winds."

"How odd. The English will remain in control of Cragdon if Llewellyn gives up the fight, and that does not bode well for Wales and our people. If Llewellyn abandons Cragdon to the English, I will flee."

"Be not hasty, child," Father Caddoc cautioned. "All is not lost yet."

"Has Lionheart given you permission to visit Daffid?"

Father Caddoc sighed. "Nay. He trusts me not. As you well know, no one has ever escaped from the dungeon."

"Aye, Father, I know. Daffid is doomed, and I am the only one who can save him."

"How, child? What can you do that I cannot?"

Vanora deliberately withheld Lionheart's terms from the good Father for fear he would confront Lionheart and earn his wrath. She did not think Lionheart would physically harm a priest, but with Englishmen, one never knew.

"Forgive me, Father, but I must leave. While Lionheart is gone, mayhap I can convince the guard to let me into the dungeon."

If Father Caddoc thought it odd that she did not answer his question, he did not say. "God go with you, child."

Vanora returned to the keep through the drenching rain. The cool breeze signaled the end of summer, and Vanora did not look forward to winter. Were she forced to leave Cragdon, she did not know how she would survive, unless she begged shelter from one of her neighbors.

The guard was no more willing to let Vanora visit Daffid than he had been the previous day. Reluctantly she turned away and returned to the hall. She had just seated herself before the hearth and taken up a piece of embroidery when Lionheart and the huntsmen stormed into the hall.

"Ale!" Lionheart called as he strode to the hearth and stretched his hands out to the fire. " Tis a miserable day," he complained to no one in particular.

Vanora said naught as he threw off his mantle and turned his backside to the fire, but she could not help looking her fill. His tunic and hose were soaked through, hugging his muscular body and legs like a second skin. Seeing him like this made it impossible for her to deny that he was a magnificent specimen of masculinity. Tall and broad, thickly muscled about the chest but slim of waist and hips, he possessed the lithe grace of a lion combined with the strength of a bull. He was stubborn, unpredictable and arrogant. When he made up his mind to something, naught could sway him from his course.

"Have I suddenly grown a tail?" Lionheart asked.

Aware that she had been staring, Vanora returned her attention to her embroidery. "All devils have tails, do they not?"

"You sorely try me, vixen. I am cold and hungry and in no mood for your insults. As the lady of the keep, 'tis your duty to see to my comfort."

Vanora set her embroidery aside and rose. "I shall instruct the servants to carry a tub and hot water to your chamber."

"Have you supped yet?"

"Nay."

"Then you will sup with me in my chamber after I have bathed."

Vanora stared at him. "I have no appetite."

"Then you can satisfy mine." He strode toward the stairs, then whipped around and said in a voice that brooked no argument, "Do not keep me waiting."

Vanora dreaded another confrontation with Lionheart. Only tomorrow remained of the three days Lionheart had given her to decide whether or not Daffid lived. She could always flee, but that would be the coward's way out and would solve naught. Fleeing would not help Daffid, nor would it make her own life any easier to bear.

Vanora went to the kitchen to order Lionheart's bath and food, then slowly ascended the stairs to the solar. Alan was with Lionheart, setting out his clean clothing and helping him disrobe. She stopped short of entering the chamber when she noted Lionheart's bare chest and would have fled but that Lionheart had spied her.

"Enter," he ordered. "You may leave, Alan," he told his squire. "We will sup after I have bathed."

Servants arrived with the tub, hot water, soap and drying cloths. They filled the tub and hastened off without looking at Vanora.

"You may scrub my back," Lionheart said as he shucked his chausses without a hint of embarrassment.

Her cheeks flaming, Vanora turned away.

"Well, I am waiting."

Vanora darted a peek over her shoulder, relieved to see Lionheart seated in the tub, his long legs doubled until his knees nearly touched his chin. Gingerly approaching the tub, Vanora picked up the soap and applied it to a cloth. Then she pressed the cloth against his back and moved it in a circular motion. She felt his muscles tense, felt the ripple of awareness that shuddered through him at her touch, and swallowed hard.

"God's toenails," he growled as he grasped her wrist and dragged her around where he could see her. "What are you doing to me, woman?"

"Naught! I am but obeying your orders. Did I hurt you?" she asked sweetly.

He fished in the water, found the washcloth she had dropped, and pressed it into her hand. "Wash my chest."

Vanora's fingers closed over the cloth. "Release my wrist."

The moment the pressure eased, she flung the cloth in Lionheart's face. Then she turned and fled. Precious time was lost when she unsuccessfully attempted to lift the latch with her soap-slick hand. When she tried again, her hand was snatched away.

Whirling, she came face to face with Lionheart in all his nude glory . . . nude and fully aroused. She did not want to stare, but she could look nowhere else. If that was what he intended to put inside her, she was certain she would not live to tell the tale.

Her expression must have conveyed her fear, for Lionheart placed a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. "I will be gentle with you, Vanora. I swear you will enjoy it."

Vanora shook her head. "You will kill me with your weapon."

"My weapon will give you pleasure." He captured her hand and brought it to his groin. "Touch me."

"I cannot." But even as the words left her mouth, her fingers curled around his staff. " 'Tis soft," she murmured, surprised that she was not repulsed, "yet hard. There is strength beneath the softness."

"Aye, I would show you, Vanora." He removed her hand. "Come lie with me. Let me banish your fears. I swear I will not hurt you."

"You promised me three days in which to decide," Vanora whispered, shaken by a wave of desire that nearly brought her to her knees.

"Tomorrow is the last day. Why prolong the inevitable? When I leave Cragdon you will be free of me. There are worse things in life than submitting to me."

"Name one," Vanora challenged.

"Watching the execution of your betrothed."

"If I agree to your terms, will you free Daffid?"

Lionheart's dark brows shot upward. "Free Daffid?"

"Aye. His execution will serve no purpose. You said yourself that Llewellyn’s army has disbanded and is unlikely to pose a threat in the near future."

"I cannot make that promise, but neither will I refuse you out of hand. I will think on it." He stepped closer, crowding her against the door. "I would hear you say the words, Vanora. Tell me you will become my leman."

"Let me speak privately to Daffid and I shall do as you wish."

"Do I have your word?"

She nodded.

"If that is what it will take to bring you to my bed, then you may visit Daffid."

"Now."

"Vanora ... do not push me."

"Now."

Impatience made his voice harsh.

"If that is the only way I can have you, then very well, I will take you to Daffid myself. Give me a moment to dress."

While Vanora waited for Lionheart to don doublet and hose, her thoughts turned inward, to that sinful thing he asked of her.

Fornication was a sin, but doing naught while a man died needlessly was a greater sin in her eyes.

She glanced sidelong at Lionheart, then squeezed her eyes shut.

May God forgive her, but the thought of making love with him sent shivers of anticipation racing down her spine.

She could feel her body softening and liquid heat gathering in unmentionable places. If her heart pounded any louder, she feared Lionheart would suspect her wanton thoughts, and she did not want to feed his vanity.

When she confessed her sins, Father Caddoc would surely give her a penance that would keep her on her knees throughout eternity.

"I am ready," Lionheart said, jarring Vanora from her silent ruminations.

As they descended the stairs, Vanora began to regret her promise to Lionheart.

What if he had lied about not hurting her? What if he proved to be a brutal lover?

What if she enjoyed his lovemaking? Would that make her a traitor to her people?

"Here we are," Lionheart said when they reached the door leading down to the dungeon. The guard opened the door, and Lionheart took the torch from the wall sconce and preceded her down the winding staircase.

It had been years since Vanora had visited the dungeon, and with good reason. The chambers below the castle were not fit for human occupancy. A succession of small, dark cells lined either wall of a large, well-lit

guardroom. The oaken door to each cell was barred from the outside and had but a small barred window. A guard, lounging on a bench, rose to his feet when Lionheart entered the chamber.

"Lady Vanora wishes to speak to the prisoner," Lionheart said brusquely.

"In private," Vanora demanded. Lionheart sent her a warning look. "You promised."

Only then did Lionheart relent and dismiss the guard. "Daffid occupies the last cell," he said before taking his leave. "I will wait for you at the foot of the staircase."

Cautiously Vanora approached the cell.

Standing on tiptoe, she peered through the opening.

To her surprise, torchlight illuminated the tiny cell, and it was not as bleak as she had feared.

A stool and table with the remnants of a meal still upon it were the only pieces of furniture in the cell besides a wide bench with a thin straw mattress that served as a bed.

Daffid was sitting on the cot, his head resting in his cupped hands. She softly called his name so as not to startle him. His head jerked up at the sound of her voice. Leaping from the cot, he ran to the door.

"Vanora! Thank God! Have you come to free me?"

"I tried, Daffid, I truly did, but Lionheart has only agreed to a visit. How are you faring?"

Anger suffused Daffid's face. "You ask that when you can see for yourself how I am forced to live? This place is not fit for an animal, much less a human being. Can you do naught to free me? I was informed that Lionheart plans to separate my head from my shoulders."

"What would you have me do?" Vanora asked.

"Whatever it takes to get me out of this hellhole," Daffid spat. "You are a resourceful wench; surely you can come up with something that will work. You managed to free Cragdon's warriors from the tower, did you not?"

"That was a different situation. There is no escape from the dungeon."

Daffid's eyes narrowed. "Has Lionheart tired of you already? Does he no longer want you in his bed?"

"Daffid! I am not Lionheart's leman!" Yet. . . "Why do you not believe me?"

"Because if I were Lionheart, I would have taken your maidenhead the same day I captured the castle. I am a man, Vanora, and know how men think." His eyes narrowed with sly innuendo. "Mayhap he prefers boys."

"Nay!" Vanora denied, outraged by the suggestion. "Lionheart desires me."

"Enough to listen to your pleas on my behalf?" Daffid asked hopefully. "I do not want to die, Vanora. I want to live to help Llewellyn drive the English from Wales. Do whatever it takes to set me free."

"You want me to fornicate with Lionheart? What of our betrothal?"

"Should you still retain your innocence, which is highly unlikely, the loss of your maidenhead is a small price to pay for my freedom. As to our betrothal, I still want Cragdon and will wed you without your maidenhead."

"You are the worst kind of hypocrite, Daffid," Vanora bit out. " 'Tis my lands you want; you care naught for me. You want me to sacrifice myself for your worthless life."

" 'Tis your duty. A woman's life is naught compared to a man's. Were we wed, you would be required to obey me in all things. I could send you to a nunnery or kill you if it pleased me."

She stared at him coldly. "Mayhap I would kill you first. I have been taught a warrior's skills and will allow no man to abuse me. I hereby set the betrothal aside. Good-bye, Daffid."

"Vanora, wait! Forgive me. I am a man condemned to death and beset by devils. I did not mean what I said. I would honor you as my wife no matter what you were forced to do to save my life. I am merely suggesting that you take advantage of Lionheart's desire for you to gain my freedom. My life is important to the future of Wales. Can you not find it in your heart to help me?"

"I will do what I can," Vanora said, turning away.

With a heavy heart, Vanora slowly made her way to Lionheart. She had always admired Daffid and felt that he would make a good husband, but he had shattered her dreams with a few carelessly spoken words. Mayhap he was overwrought with anxiety, but that did not give him the right to speak to her in a disrespectful fashion, or hold her in low regard because she was a woman.

Daffid was not even grateful for her warrior skills. She had sacrificed her own warriors for his and Llewellyn’s lives and placed herself in peril. Daffid thought of her as a woman who would become his chattel once they were wed. She had hoped he would see her as being different from other women and respect those differences.

He should appreciate her ability to defend herself and protect her lands, but he did not.

"I heard loud voices. Did your visit with Daffid not go well?"

Vanora gasped in surprise; she had been so deep in thought, she had nearly bumped into Lionheart.

She refused to look at him. "All is well. I found Daffid in surprising good health. Is that your doing?"

"I rarely torture my prisoners."

She turned away and started up the stairs. Lionheart grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. "You have not changed your mind, have you? Rest assured that I intend to hold you to your promise."

Vanora no longer felt that Daffid's life was worth any sacrifice on her part, but she had given Lionheart a promise and saw no way to avoid honoring her word. Had she spoken to Daffid first, she would not have been so quick to agree to Lionheart's terms. But deep down she knew she would still have done whatever it took to save the life of a fellow Welshman.

"I have not changed my mind," she assured him.

She preceded him up the stairs. "Shall we get this over with?"

Lionheart's brows flew upward. "Your enthusiasm overwhelms me, my lady. You may not share my excitement, but can you not summon any eagerness for our coupling?"

"You are not the man I pictured when I imagined making love for the first time."

"Daffid is not the man for you," Lionheart said harshly.

Privately, Vanora agreed, but she was not about to admit as much to Lionheart. The man was puffed up enough as it was. "And I suppose you are," she challenged.

His eyes glittered like polished silver. "I will let you decide after I make love to you."

"You offer me naught but fleeting pleasure. What will happen to me when you are gone? Everyone will know I was your whore, and I will spend the rest of my life without a husband. I want a man who will be my partner in life, one who will treat me as an equal, and I want children. All those things will be denied me if you make me your whore."

After giving her words considerable thought, Lionheart said, "I shall ask Edward to find you an appropriate husband."

Although it seemed like a perfectly sound solution, it did not sit well with Lionheart. The thought of Vanora in another man's bed was not something he cared to contemplate.

"Do not bother," Vanora retorted. "Edward would surely choose an Englishman for me to wed, and I cannot bear the thought." Whirling, she stalked off.

Lionheart caught up with her in two long strides. A hush fell over the men gathered in the hall. A stern look from Lionheart was all it took for conversation to resume.

"Pay them no heed," he said when he noted Vanora's flushed face and stiff shoulders. "Should anyone speak ill of you for what we are about to do, he or she will be severely reprimanded. I shall make it clear that you had no choice in the matter."

Her shock was palpable. "You would do that?"

"Aye. Does that surprise you?"

She shrugged. "It does not take much to surprise me where you are concerned."

They ascended the stairs and walked along the gallery. "Are you shocked that I want you? That I would go to extraordinary lengths to get you into my bed?"

"You are an Englishman," she said, as if that explained everything.

"Aye, I am that." Reaching out, he touched the silken sable of her hair, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. "And you are a desirable woman. I could have taken you long ago were I the kind of man who enjoyed forcing a woman, but I am not." His hand slid downward to her breast. "I swear you will find enjoyment in my arms, Vanora, and I promise you will come to me willingly . . . nay, you will beg me to take you."

"Never!" Vanora vowed.

He opened the door to the solar and ushered her inside. "Never is a long time, sweeting. A man as determined as I always gets what he wants, and I want you."

He dragged her into his arms, pressing her against the thick ridge of his desire. Then he kissed her, tracing the outline of her lips as if trying to memorize every curve, every detail of their lush shape. Though she tried to resist him, her will was not as strong as his. He parted her mouth, coaxed it open with his tongue, and seduced her with his urgent need.

Impatiently he undressed her, until she stood before him clad in naught but a thin shift. His eyes darkened with hot hunger as he reached down to pull the garment over her head.

"Stop!"

Lionheart cursed violently as Father Caddoc burst into the chamber.

"God's toenails!" Lionheart roared. "You again! Leave us."

"Nay. I will not allow you to defile Vanora."

"I can do whatever I choose, with or without your permission. Vanora is willing. Ask her yourself if you do not believe me."

Father Caddoc's probing gaze impaled Vanora. "Is that true, child?"

Lionheart held his breath as he waited for Vanora's answer. She wanted him, he knew she did. He recognized all the signs of an aroused woman.

"Aye, Father," she murmured.

Heady relief made Lionheart almost giddy, but he forced himself to hide his elation. "You heard her, Father. Now leave us."

"If you must do this thing, then allow me to marry you. Wedding Vanora will make the act right in God's eyes."

Lionheart gave a shout of laughter. "Surely you jest, Father."

"I do not jest, my son. To bed Vanora, you must wed her."

Lionheart felt like an animal caught in a trap. He was hard and ready to burst, and would agree to almost anything to assuage his need. But marriage . . . ? Ridiculous. He tried to push Father Caddoc out the door, but the priest resisted with surprising strength for one of his advanced years.

"Do not hurt him," Vanora begged.

"I am prepared to perform the rites immediately," Father Caddoc said, bringing out his Bible from somewhere beneath his rusty black cassock.

"Damn you for your interference!" Lionheart shouted. "Think you I need a conscience?"

"I suspect you do," Father Caddoc said calmly.

Lionheart's cock was thick and hard and ready to explode, and he cared not what he had to do to get Vanora in his bed. "Very well, marry us, priest, but it will change naught. There is no room in my life for a wife."

"Do you want Vanora, my son?"

"Aye." His answer, though grudgingly given, sealed his fate.

"Then let us proceed with the ceremony."