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“Nay, one sister is in France, the other in Scotland. And of course my mother…”

“I am sorry she does so poorly, my dear.” Agnes’ sympathetic voice floated up to Melissa, and she could almost see her mother patting Charles’ arm.

“I will remain here for a time and establish myself in Henry’s new court.”

“I am sure you know best, my lord,” Agnes replied. “It will give you and my daughter more time to get to know one another.”

“Lady Melissa has enchanted me in the short time we have been together. I can only imagine our affection for one another will grow.”

Melissa felt the color stain her face as they took the stairs to the second floor and joined the crowd gathered to await the meal. Wooden planks on trestles, with benches beneath, lined the sides of the hall. A dais held a table and a dozen chairs.

“What if they join us for dinner?” The thought of eating with Henry and Eleanor both terrified and delighted Melissa.

Yet the duke seemed to take it all in stride.

She respected self–confidence and the courage to attain one’s goals.

Yea, she thought as she watched him tip his head and make eye contact with various guests as they passed, he would be a fine provider for his family.

Once again, she said a silent prayer of thanks for her good fortune.

The group stopped to dip their fingers in bowls of water held by liveried men near the entrance.

Charles led them to the front of the hall and seated them near another noble family.

With her mother seated to her left, Melissa scanned the nearby tables for a familiar face.

She knew the guests were seated according to their rank and smiled.

They were at the second table from the front.

A very respectable placement, though she suspected Charles would not be happy until they were seated at the first table below the dais.

The smell of broth and herbs filled the air, and Melissa realized she was hungry. She had eaten an early breakfast of thin gruel, but with the noon hour past, her stomach growled.

“Shhh, I hear you,” she whispered to her belly with a giggle.

“Have a drink to tide you over,” said a man beside her in a deep baritone.

Melissa’s hand stopped midway to the cup, and she stared at the embroidery on her cuff. Her mind told her not to look at the man to her right. She recognized his voice from her dreams, and it could lead to nothing good. Yet, her heart willed her to turn her head.

He had come from nowhere and slipped in beside her so closely, they would touch sleeves if either of them took a deep breath.

She saw a large hand with long graceful fingers reach out and pour wine from a pitcher.

Mesmerized, her eyes followed the large signet ring on his finger: silver, with a wolf howling at a ruby moon.

The tiny stone winked and sparkled as he passed her the wine.

Power emanated from both the ring and the man.

She took a deep breath, relieved her hand was steady as she reached for the silver cup.

When their fingers lightly brushed, heat spread over her face and neck.

Look at him, don’t be a coward , her mind screamed as her heart slammed against her chest. Her father’s loud familiar laugh gave her a reason to look away, but she found no help in the other direction.

Both he and the duke, involved in a lively discussion with a group of the king’s knights, would not save her.

Her mother was in a conversation with Lady Blanche about their attire for the coronation.

Melissa turned back to the man who trespassed in her sleep and made her dream foolishly of true love and happiness. Looking into his tawny eyes, she drew in a quick breath and almost dropped the cup.

He reached out to secure her grip, his sleeve pushed back to reveal a beaten silver band with an intricate Celtic design about his strong wrist. As his palm closed around her cup, the warmth of his skin created a pulse between her thighs that frightened her.

His shining black hair had been combed straight back.

The thick strands had been pushed behind his ears and lay invitingly on his broad shoulders.

With a straight nose and high cheekbones, he resembled one of the Roman statues she had seen as a child.

His dark skin already showed lines of wear around his eyes, though she knew him to be a younger man. She longed to reach up and trace them, smooth the worry from his face...his incredibly handsome face.

“Who are you? I—”

“Melissa, come here. I want you to meet someone,” Lord Garrick’s voice boomed over the noisy hall.

She turned to see him beckon her to the end of the table.

Lord Roker’s face held annoyance as he stared just beyond her shoulder.

She waved to acknowledge her father then looked around to excuse herself to the gentleman next to her.

He was gone. Again. She scanned the crowd and saw his back, that glorious black mantle, flying behind him as he made his escape. But why? Had he mistaken her for someone else? Nay, he’s the same man on the hill, in my dreams, and here beside me. But how are we acquainted? What does he want from me?

Melissa wished again that her brother had accompanied them. She could always talk to him and missed him terribly now. Deep down, she knew her betrothal was one of the reasons he declined to come to London.

“If I did not like him, or thought he would mistreat you in any way, I’d have to kill him,” Broden had said matter of factly. “If you ever need me, send word. I will be there as fast as the crow flies. Remember that you are never alone.”

She wondered what he would think of her obsession with this wizard. Smiling, she moved toward her father to meet yet another “old friend.”

“Lady Melissa, are you acquainted with the man who sat next to you?” Charles’ cold eyes narrowed as he waited for her response.

She could tell her encounter had irritated him, and his grip on her arm tightened.

Her free hand searched out the lemony leaves in her tunic pocket.

“Nay, my lord. He indeed seems familiar, but I have never met the man. Do you know of him?” It was not a lie, and mayhap she could glean some information from an unlikely source.

Melissa could not allow this man to think she could be easily intimidated.

“He is a confidante of King Henry and Eleanor, some kind of sorcerer. Rumor has it he is a descendant of Merlin,” he said, continuing to observe her reaction with suspicious eyes. “What did you speak of?”

“Nothing, really.” Looking down as if embarrassed, she whispered in his ear, “My stomach growled, and he must have heard. He offered me wine to keep it quiet until the food came.”

The duke’s gaze softened. With a chuckle, he relaxed his hold.

“I apologize. You have an innocence that brings out my protective nature.” He lightly stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

They felt soft; the nails polished. “Jealousy is a new sensation to me. You are turning me into a passionate man, my love.”

“You will find me a woman with a sturdy character and not easily persuaded. Once my loyalty is given, I do not sway.” She smiled sweetly, pleased at how she managed to impart that information.

The duke nodded in approval and rejoined the conversation, and the subject turned to the evening entertainment.

Jongleurs had been hired, along with several storytellers.

The queen, known for her love of romance and chivalry, had brought several of her most talented troubadours with her from Aquitaine.

“Do you believe in the fantasy of love, my lady?” asked Lord Roker. “Would you give up everything to follow your heart?”

Melissa wondered if he tested her. She chewed her bottom lip and chose her words carefully.

“I have faith in my family, and the decisions made on my behalf. My parents had never met before their marriage and neither suffered the worse for it. I am not a silly girl waiting for Sir Lancelot to swoop me away on his horse.” Her father nodded approvingly, and she gave Charles a sideways glance.

“We cannot choose our fate and must be happy with what life hands to us. And you, my lord?”

He nodded in agreement. “Indeed, a female with common sense and beautiful to look upon. So you do not believe love has its place?”

“Oh, I did not say that. It makes for romantic songs and enchanting stories. In our world, a partnership takes priority over such a flimsy emotion.” She hesitated then gave him a dazzling smile. “Yet, I find myself quite hopeful for the future.”

The duke leaned down and whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her skin, “I must admit, the thought of our wedding and the marriage bed has robbed me of sleep the past few nights. We shall get along well, my sweet. I am most pleased.”

Melissa’s eyes widened at the mention of such intimacy, and she hoped the pulse in her throat did not give her away.

Her mother had explained what took place, but the actual act petrified her.

It was her duty to accept her husband in any way he deemed fit, without complaint.

Would he be gentle? What if she disappointed him?

A loud clang proclaimed the arrival of the first course, and they hurried back to their places.

Just as Melissa caught her breath, the king and queen were announced.

A hush fell over the congested room. As the royal couple entered, they exchanged a glance with one another that ignited a new emotion in Melissa.

The words she had just uttered about the folly of true love became a distant memory.