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R olf wiped his palms on his hose, noting that his thighs were sore from his last spar with Blackbourne.

He looked up at the tall structure of St. Paul’s and wondered how sweat could trickle down his back when he could see his own breath in the chilled morning air.

To keep his hands busy, he tightened his newly-cleaned sword belt and tugged at his tunic of fine black wool.

The silver and burgundy thread on his embroidered cuffs and collar shimmered against the soft, dark material.

A matching black mantle lay over his shoulders, hooked loosely at his throat with an engraved silver clasp of a wolf howling at a ruby moon.

Never had he worn such finery—or needed it—until the coronation and now his wedding.

He was beginning to feel like a courtier and hated it.

“You look as if you’re waiting for the enemy to appear around the corner rather than a beautiful bride.” Sir William Blackbourne clapped his friend on the shoulder and gave a shake. “I told you to come with me last night. I’d have made sure there was no tension left in your bones.”

“But my head would have ached until the morrow. Nay, all will be well once I see her.” He grasped his hands behind his back and paced the top step before the huge oak doors. “I have permission to take Melissa home and spend a few months alone together before we must return to court.”

“So Henry hasn’t decided what to do with you yet, eh?” Blackbourne leaned against the stone, one brown booted heel poised on top of the opposite toe. “I’ll be with you whether it’s Scotland or Wales. You know that?”

Rolf nodded and thanked the gods once again for this knight. Besides Edric, William was the only man he trusted. They had saved each other’s necks more than once, and not just in battle.

“Is she prepared for Misfit Manor? Have you told her about Sir Edric and Elsa?”

“There will be plenty of time to discuss things while we travel.” His mind wandered back to the tranquility of his home.

It was a far sight from what Melissa was accustomed to but his fortune would rise with his rank.

They would soon be in a larger dwelling with surroundings more suitable for her. If he only knew where…

Regardless, she would need advance warning of Elsa’s condition. The woman was comely—on one side. Hideous as the devil’s spawn on the other. The fire had melted the skin on her face. Edric was a good man to see past it and into her soul. For there, she was a true beauty.

A bolt slid from behind the huge church doors of the cathedral. Rolf swiped a hand over his face as he turned to face the tall but slight priest who stepped out. “Has the earl arrived? Is the lady in question here?”

As if on cue, three horses approached. Rolf sucked air into his lungs.

The deep blue skirts of Melissa’s kirtle billowed over the back and sides of her horse, the paler inner sleeves dangling near the hem.

Her thick blonde hair, plaited with filaments of gold, hung to her waist. Embroidered roses of scarlet set off the gold tunic that complimented her creamy skin.

The sun struck the sapphire gauze covering her hair; it shimmered with each step of the palfrey.

She was stunning. And she was his. Somehow, he left the steps and stood in front of her horse, holding the reins and employing all his willpower not to drag her from the horse and into his arms.

“I see that look, Arbrec.” Melissa’s father dismounted. “The wedding night will come soon enough.”

Rolf ignored the older man and helped Melissa down from the saddle.

He let her backside slide against his and held her for just a breath of time before setting her feet on the ground.

The faint scent of lemon hit his nostrils as she moved down his body.

“Are you sure?” he whispered in her ear.

He didn’t need to see her face to feel the tightening of her body or the pulse in her neck. His heart beat just as quickly.

She turned to him, an immense smile on her face. “Yea, my lord. Quite ready.”

Her confidence took him by surprise, considering her reluctance to make a choice before the final hour.

Their time together thus far had been short, and rarely had they been alone.

More often than not, Rolf had thought she would refuse him and marry the duke.

But looking into those liquid green eyes, his soul eased.

“Then let us proceed,” he answered with the same smile as he held out his elbow. “I have brought a witness. The best of men, and a loyal knight of my father’s, Sir William Blackbourne. May I introduce the Earl of Garrick, Countess Garrick, and Lady Garrick.”

Melissa’s mother gave a slight curtsy and nodded her head. “We met a few weeks ago, I believe. We spoke about the construction of the Tower while we waited for my husband in the courtyard. It is good to see you again.”

Melissa’s father squinted at him, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Hmm, I know your father. He was a good man to have at my back—fought with him when Henry’s grandfather was on the throne.

” Garrick looked up at the knight’s great height.

“You take after him. He was also quite a giant. Made him a target on the battlefield, though.”

“I’ve learned to duck,” answered William with a grin.

“I hope he is well?”

“Yea, my lord. He sits at home now and gives orders to my mother and sisters. They don’t listen, but it gives him a reason to bellow.”

The earl snorted. “Sounds like him. Well, I see the priest awaits us.”

The party ascended the steps and waited near the entrance.

The solemnity of the occasion hit Rolf like the flat side of a broadsword.

There was legally no reason to have a ceremony conducted by a priest, but these were extenuating circumstances.

The Countess of Garrick had been concerned there might be cause to prove the validity of this marriage at some point.

The earl had scoffed at the idea, but his wife held her ground.

“My mother only looks out for us,” Melissa had confided. “She fears the duke might take up his cause again. We have seen an ugly side of him and should not take any chances.”

The group stood on the steps, Rolf on the right and Melissa on the left, as Adam had with Eve at the beginning of time.

He felt the amulet pulse against his chest and knew Merlin was pleased.

But why are you not free? When the priest began to speak, Rolf’s eyes met hers.

His heart expanded. Could his chest burst from this odd feeling of hope and…

love? Aye, this must be love in truth. The all-consuming need to be with someone, to feel whole when she was near or lost and empty when she was not.

“…long as ye both shall live?”

As long as ye both shall live… The words drifted into his brain. Blackbourne cleared his throat, and Rolf realized all eyes were on him.

“I will.” He studied the top of Melissa’s golden head, longing to brush back the veil that fell across one shoulder. As if sensing his need to touch her, she shivered.

“Lady Melissa Garrick, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, wilt thou love him and honor him, keep him and guard him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, and forsaking all others on account of him, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Without hesitation, her sweet voice rang out. “I will.”

He’d never seen anything as beautiful; her cheeks were faintly tinted from the cold—or excitement—her full lips soft and inviting.

The priest handed Melissa back to her father and the vows began. Rolf’s throat was parched, his voice raw with emotion as he spoke the next words. He’d waited most of his life for this moment. Merlin had waited an eternity.

“I, Lord Rolf Giles Arbrec, take thee, Lady Melissa Margaret Garrick, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. And thereto I plight thee my troth.”

As Melissa repeated the lines, her eyes shone with tears.

Her tone was husky, and it trembled on the words “till death do us part.” When the priest blessed the bands, the earl returned his daughter to the groom’s side.

Rolf held a ruby ring, the round stone matching the crimson moon on his clasp and signet.

It slid easily onto her fourth finger. The velvet of her skin caressed the pads of his fingers as he held her hand, shooting tiny arrows of desire through his body.

His own band was simple but of lustrous gold; it rested below his knuckle like a shining beacon of confirmation. Today his life would begin anew.

The priest joined their hands and extended a blessing.

The couple entered the church as man and wife.

Standing in the nave, surrounded by elaborately carved stone and graceful arches, Rolf felt small and humble.

This woman was a gift to him, and he would be grateful as long as he lived.

As they knelt together at the altar, listening to the praises of god, he felt her subtle strength next to him.

And he said a prayer of thanks for the first time since his tenth name day.

***

The scent of beeswax hung heavy in the air, candles and small tallow lamps spreading a soft glow upon the crowd at Leicester Hall.

Melissa studied Rolf, who stood near the door with several knights.

He looked magnificent in his black tunic.

His shoulders strained at the material as his arms went up, demonstrating some battle move to the men.

The ruby in his ring danced in the torchlight as if it had a magic of its own.

Mayhap it did. She knew so little about him.

With an inner sigh, she turned to her host. “We greatly appreciate this banquet tonight.”

The Earl of Leicester leaned toward her. “For a small gathering, the noise in this hall is tremendous. What did you say?”