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M elissa jumped when her father stormed out of the royal chambers and into the hall. “By Christ!” he yelled as he came toward them. “Roker, we have a complication.”

“What happened, my lord?” asked Lady Agnes. “I have never seen you this upset.”

“Ladies, would you please wait for us in the great hall?” Garrick had recovered his composure. “I need to speak with the duke alone for a few minutes, and then we will join you.”

“But my lord father, this matter involves me. Why can I not hear the discussion?”

“Yea, John. Why should we leave?”

“Just go, wife,” the earl commanded in a clipped tone. “I will come shortly.” He turned his back to the women, and the men walked away.

Melissa and her mother returned to the lower level and sat down at an empty trestle table. At least fifty people still waited for an audience or gossiped with friends in corners of the room. Agnes stuck her nose into a pitcher and sniffed.

“Spiced wine. Yea, that will do,” she said and reached for a cup.

She dumped it upside down to remove any liquid left from the last recipient, wiped the end of her long sleeve across the edge, and filled it to the rim.

“You might want a bit of this also. The last time your father sounded this angry, Stephen had stolen the throne.”

“Oh.” Melissa reached for her mother’s cup and drank deeply. “What do you think happened in there?”

“He obviously didn’t get the King’s blessing. But why?” She looked at her daughter, one eyebrow raised. “Do you know any reason why the King of England would concern himself with a match so trivial?”

“Me?” She shook her head, absently took the wine from her mother’s hand again, and emptied it in one long swallow. “And may I add that I do not consider the subject of my marriage trivial.” She grabbed the pitcher and refilled the cup.

“To Henry II, your betrothal should be insignificant. Your father requested the audience out of courtesy and...”

Her mother stopped midsentence. Following her gaze, Melissa saw him approach their table.

Her throat went dry, and she gulped more wine.

He was taller than she remembered but moved with grace and certainty.

The knee–length gold tunic slapped against his thighs; the matching chausses stretched over hard-muscled calves.

She had seen him full-length in her sleep but never with such detail.

The loud voices dimmed in her mind as she willed herself to breathe.

Melissa could not look away from his intense gaze.

If he held out his hand this moment, she would take it and, and what?

Stop acting like a love-sodden child and think about the Duke of Sunderland.

He stopped before Agnes, but his eyes remained on Melissa. The shirt beneath his tunic stretched tightly across his shoulders and arms as he bowed before Agnes.

“Pardon me, Countess Garrick. I would like to introduce myself.” He spoke in a low, direct tone. “I am Lord Rolf Arbrec, advisor and servant to King Henry II. I feel amiss in speaking with your daughter earlier and not gaining a formal introduction first.”

She knew the instant her mother looked into his eyes, for Agnes stammered, “I–I... Of course.” Well, at least he affected other females in the same way. But her mother pulled herself together quickly. “Are you the wizard I have heard so much about?”

Melissa cringed at her mother’s directness but waited for the answer she knew would come. Though Rolf’s smile faded, he answered pleasantly, “I always keep a few tricks up my sleeve, Countess, if that is what you imply. Shall I cast a spell upon an enemy for you?”

“Mayhap,” Agnes replied with a giggle. “Would you care to join us for some spiced wine? It appears my daughter has lost her voice.”

When Rolf moved around the table and sat down next to her, Melissa looked across at her mother in panic.

To her shock, Agnes winked and continued the conversation with this mysterious man who now invaded her days in the flesh.

He smelled of country air and pine, a musky and masculine scent that quickened her pulse.

What would his kiss taste like? She’d felt his strength in her dreams, but now her senses reeled with his physical nearness.

“So you reside at court, my lord?”

“Nay, I make my home in Scotland. My father is Baron of Wolfton, near the Lowland border in England. My sister oversees the lands. I have been kept busy this past year and must be available whenever I am summoned.” The more he spoke, the more her tension eased.

His voice soothed her nerves like a soft lullaby.

“I do not pretend to practice the ways of court. Nor do I wish for such a life. I am a simple soldier.”

“Is that how you are connected with the King? I remember meeting Baron Arbrec from the North. Your father?” Agnes asked. She kicked Melissa under the table, jarring her from her thoughts. Is he still alive?”

“We do not know, my lady. He left for the First Crusade and…” Rolf spread his hands out, lightly skimming Melissa’s forearm with the motion. “We have never received news of his death, capture, or survival.”

The older woman tapped a finger on the table. “If I recall, he had a ferocious reputation in battle, and his men considered him a fearless leader.”

“In truth, we all have uncertainties. My father, however, did not consider death one of them.” Melissa noted his soft tone turned slightly bitter as he spoke of his father. By her mother’s narrowed eyes, Agnes had also noticed.

“And your mother?”

“She died in childbirth. I never knew her.” His eyes flickered briefly with sadness before making light of it. “My upbringing could be called somewhat unconventional. I apologize if my manners are not always polished.”

“So your sister manages the estates. Who brought her up? I know her mother also died young.”

“My father sent Cristiana to a convent to be trained as an abbess. When he left for the Crusades, she agreed to help until his return.”

“Quite an interesting family, my lord.” Agnes looked up and signaled to her husband with a wave. “Here comes my husband. You must meet him, too.”

Garrick walked quickly around several groups of nobles and soldiers, Roker right behind him. Her father’s face no longer showed any trace of anger. Instead, he looked with interest at the man who sat with his family. The duke, however, wore a scowl that deepened when he saw Rolf.

“Have you worked out your concerns, my lord husband?” Agnes laid a hand on her husband’s arm. He nodded with a smile and patted her fingers. “Good. Lord Arbrec, this is my husband, the Earl of Garrick and...”

“I know who he is,” said Roker, with a sneer. “Are you the one the Queen speaks of? You cannot have her, you know. I shall challenge you over this.”

“I shall accept,” Rolf answered, his voice deadly quiet.

“I never lose.”

“Neither do I.” Rolf stood to his full height, his shoulder at the duke’s eye level. “I beg pardon, my ladies,” he said with a nod in their direction. “I must attend to some royal business. Lord Garrick, I hope we cross paths again very soon.” He excused himself from the group with a bow.

Melissa felt three pairs of eyes fall on her. She wanted to crawl under the trestle, or run after the man who had just thrown her to the wolves. She needed to know what happened in the royal chamber. Her father must have sensed her anxiety.

“It has been quite an afternoon, my dears. You must wish Lord Roker a good day before we leave,” he said in a jovial tone, then extended his arm to his wife.

Agnes stood, swayed a bit, and then clutched her husband’s arm with both hands and a giggle. “The spiced wine is very good, my lord. You should try some.”

“Methinks you have sampled an adequate amount for both of us. The fresh air in the bailey will do you good while I collect the horses.”

She followed her parents out of the room, the duke at her heels. He took her arm, his nails digging into the thick wool of her tunic. When she tried to pull away, he dipped his head to her ear. His breath tickled the side of her neck, and her shoulder jerked in reflex She suddenly felt very wary.

“Do not concern yourself with this minor inconvenience, my sweet. He may have the Queen’s ear for now, but I have an army. And all kings need armies.” His harsh chuckle made her stomach lurch.

There was now another side to this man; a sly and cold side she had not seen before. Her mind screamed in warning—and fear for Rolf.

***

Melissa sat in front of the brazier, soaking up the warmth from the coals and picking at a loose thread on her linen chemise.

She had dismissed Beatrice after undressing for the night.

The lady’s maid wanted to visit with her sister, and Melissa was happy for a rare chance at solitude.

It had been an extraordinary week, and she needed time alone to think.

The uncomfortable encounter between Lord Arbrec and the Duke of Sunderland played over in her mind.

If not for Rolf, she would have been perfectly happy with Lord Roker.

Where there had only been certainty of a happy future, doubts now formed about her betrothed.

On the ride back to the priory, she had stayed close behind her parents while her father gave an account of his conversation with the king.

It seemed the queen had interfered with the marriage request. One of Eleanor’s advisors had revealed his interest in Melissa.

For some inexplicable reason, the king had given in to Eleanor and temporarily denied approval of the agreement made during Stephen’s reign.

The earl had turned to shake a finger at her. “Do not get any rebellious ideas about that impudent baron’s bastard. I will never allow my daughter to marry below our rank. King or no king.”

Melissa had held her tongue, knowing better than to risk her father’s anger before he was ready to listen. Her mother had smoothly intervened.