Chapter One

Marcher lands bordering England and Wales.

Late summer 1282

"A peacock? You want me to marry a peacock? And an old, withered one at that?"

When she became a widow, Alyce Chetwynd had not anticipated the endless stream of men who would woo her just because she was the sister to the lord of Hawkspur Castle. She certainly benefited as a result of the inheritance of Hawkspur Castle from their uncle, but this elevation in society also came with new expectations for her.

Her brother found the perfect man for her at the change of every sennight. The most recent peacock strutted past for her approval was Luc Montworth—a condescending, grating oaf of a man.

"Old?" Cynwulf spun on his heel to face his sister and scowled. "How can you think Montworth old? He is but ten and five years your senior."

Alyce Chetwynd was a woman willing to settle for nothing less than the man of her dreams, and Montworth was certainly not him. Her desirable characteristics in a husband included charm, integrity, understanding, acceptance, and loyalty above all else. He must also be contented to never have an heir, at least not from Alyce. Thus, the reason Cynwulf's suggestion to marry Montworth, a seemingly reasonable idea to him, was perfectly ludicrous to her.

"I will give you that he is not so old," Alyce admitted, watching her brother pace back and forth in front of her, "but I have no desire to marry him. He does not truly desire me but rather desires a proximity to the lord of Hawkspur Castle. He only wants to be tied to you. If I marry again, I plan to be very discerning in the man I choose."

"Alyce," her brother growled between gritted teeth. "We have been through this time and again. Your expectations are too great. You are preparing yourself for little else but disappointment by wishing and waiting for your ideal man."

"'Tis not true," Alyce said coolly, crossing her arms stubbornly in front of her. "I will not marry again."

"Ah!" Cynwulf exclaimed. "Now we get to the root of the matter. 'Tis not that you truly await the perfect man, 'tis that you never wish to remarry. Your impossible standards are nothing more than your justification to avoid that which you unreasonably fear."

Alyce cringed at the crassness of his remark, but she kept her voice steady. "Unreasonably fear?" she asked, intercepting Cynwulf in his pacing to push against his shoulder with her flattened palm. "Who are you to say I am unreasonable?"

Cynwulf sighed and held her gaze. "People die. People leave. It is a part of life we cannot change. I know you wish for it to be different, but life is constantly changing."

It was true Alyce disliked change because it rarely seemed to be for the better. Most of the changes in her life had started with someone dying. "It's more than just that, and you know it," Alyce said quietly through the lump that seemed to be swelling in her throat.

"Geoffrey was a good man."

She expected nothing less than loyalty from her brother regarding his trusted friend. Cynwulf and Geoffrey had met as young boys while training as squires for Sir Ranolf Chetwynd. Sir Chetwynd was lord of Hawkspur, brother to Alyce's father, and eventually guardian of Cynwulf and Alyce upon the death of their parents. When Uncle Ranolf died, he left Hawkspur to Cynwulf with the stipulation that Alyce would always have a home at the castle for as long as it remained in the family. Cynwulf became lord of Hawkspur, she became chatelaine, and Geoffrey served as Cynwulf's commander of arms until he was killed in a rebel ambush just over a year prior.

Cynwulf tilted his head to the side and spoke in a soft, chiding voice. "He loved you, and he was a good husband; one indiscretion does not change how he felt about you."

A sudden chill froze the blood in Alyce's veins. She dropped her hands to her side, her shoulders drooping as a heavy, familiar weight settled upon them. In many marriages, a husband having trysts or taking a mistress did not constitute a major indiscretion, but she and Geoffrey had the rare privilege of marrying for love—or at least, she'd thought they had married for love. Her uncle could have forced her into a political marriage, but he vowed to let her choose her own path. Had her marriage to Geoffrey been arranged for political strategy and devoid of love she mayhap could understand, even tolerate, her husband taking another woman to his bed, but to her, it had been a humiliation.

"Mayhap for him it did not change how he felt, but for me, it changed everything." The pit of her stomach hardened as shame balled in her belly.

"Nothing changed," Cynwulf said. "He was your husband. You had a life together, and you can be a wife again."

His authoritative voice might work with his men, but to her, he was brother, not lord, especially within the privacy of the family chambers. If anything, his attempts to dictate to her only angered her more. Her spine stiffened and she leveled a cold stare at him. "Nothing changed? How can you say such a thing? Everything changed and I have a constant reminder of it every day."

Cynwulf's eyes rolled in exasperation. "At your word, I will send her and the boy away. Why do you insist they stay?"

"Where will they go? A maid and her bastard son? My husband's bastard son." Alyce shook her head with determination. "I will not make an innocent child suffer for deeds that were not his doing. As for her.…" Alyce did not know what she wanted. Janet flaunted her shapely form in front of every man in the castle. It sickened her to look upon the kitchen maid at times and saddened her to see the little boy clinging to her skirts as she served the men in the great hall, flirting all the while. The woman had given her husband the one thing she could not, and thus broke her heart.

"No, the boy and his mother will stay." She hated that her voice still shook when she spoke of them. The woman kept the pain alive in Alyce. Janet served as a constant reminder that it mattered not how much she tried, she could never give a man the heir required and eventually he would break her heart because of it.

"Why do you torture yourself in this manner, Alyce? You have seen her with your own eyes, you know what she is like, and you know the wiles she uses to lure a man."

Alyce wanted to scream with rage, but it would accomplish nothing. Cynwulf did not intentionally hurt her and because of that, she would control her seething temper. "If he loved me the way I loved him, she would not have been a temptation. I alone would have been enough for him."

Cynwulf shook his head slowly from side to side, as he always did when they had this discussion.

"Geoffrey suffered as you did. He felt terrible after, and he realized he had been a fool because he did love you and nearly lost you." He pointed a commanding finger at her, a gesture Alyce had found irritating since they were children. "That is more than most marriages. Many wives are forced to put up with constant mistresses. Geoffrey made one drunken mistake that he regretted for the rest of his time with you. Do not let one incident spoil the memory of the five years you shared."

"I have not let it spoil all memories of him. I knew Geoffrey almost as long as you did, and I loved him until the day he died. How could I not?" Alyce fisted her hands and dug her nails into her palms, determined to force back the tears welling in her eyes. She turned away from her brother, pacing quickly back and forth in front of the hearth. Why must he be so obstinate about her finding another husband?

"I have many fond memories of Geoffrey and our time together. I learned a lesson, however, about trust, and the way love changes once trust is lost. I will not be the wife who sits idly by while her husband takes mistresses to his bed, pretending not to notice because it is what is expected of me. I cannot give a man the heir he requires to continue his legacy and he will have no choice but to eventually set me aside." She stopped her pacing to stand in front of her brother again. "The humiliation would kill me. I want more, Cynwulf, or nothing at all. And since more is impossible, I choose nothing at all."

Cynwulf looked at her with pity and impatience. Inwardly, Alyce cringed at the pleading in Cynwulf's eyes. She knew he was frustrated with her only because he wanted what he thought was best for her.

And she knew exactly what he would say next.

"If something happens to me, where will you go? I will rest easier if I know your future is secured."

"Hawkspur is as much mine as it is yours. Uncle Ranolf left it to both of us."

"And he would have left it solely to you if he didn't fear others would try to take it from you because you are a woman. You must be realistic, Alyce. If something happens to me, you will not be able to hold Hawkspur on your own. Especially amid another Welsh revolt."

Alyce threw her hands up, bored with this argument. "Don't get yourself killed and my future is secure. Unless you wish for me to leave Hawkspur." She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. "Is that the way of it? Are you planning to marry? You fear a wife will not be willing to share Hawkspur with me, don't you?"

"No, I have no plan to marry, and if I did, my wife would have no choice but to recognize your place here. I just want more for you than crops and ledgers."

"I am happy as chatelaine of Hawkspur. Your ledgers are well-kept, the castle well-managed, and the stores are well-filled. This is my home, Cynwulf, and the people here are my family. I want for nothing more."

"It would be one less worry if I knew you would not be alone if something were to happen to me." Cynwulf buried his hand in his hair and dragged his fingers through the dark strands. "You can manage the castle and the land as well as, or even better, than any man but none of that matters if you can't defend Hawkspur."

"Do you not feel you are deserving of Hawkspur, Cynwulf? Father raised you from a babe and never thought of you as a stepson. Neither did Uncle Ranolf."

"They both gave me more than I deserved." Cynwulf placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking her lightly as he spoke. "Uncle Ranolf built Hawkspur, and the castle belongs to the Chetwynd family. You know as well, by rights it would be yours if you were a son instead of a daughter. I am a Chetwynd by name only, not by blood as you are."

"But no one knows that, and Father never treated you as anything different than his own. Nor did Uncle Ranolf. Nor have I." It puzzled her that Cynwulf still felt he did not belong despite being raised by her father from the day he was born to their mother.

Cynwulf lowered his head to look her in the eye. "I must know that you will be taken care of if something happens to me. I must know that you will be safe. If I am gone, the people of the village cannot protect you."

Cynwulf's tone troubled her, frightened her even. Her brother was not a man to worry needlessly. So why was he being so obstinate and repeating himself, as if he wouldn't be satisfied until she agreed with him?

"Why now? Why suddenly is this so important?" Her heart started to pound in her chest as Cynwulf's tongue remained still, but Alyce could see the tension in his eyes.

She jumped as a knock thudded on the wooden door of the solar. Cynwulf dropped his hands from her with a heavy sigh and moved to answer the summons.

A stocky man entered the room, his light brown hair clipped close to his scalp, making him appear even younger than his twenty-five years. Aelwin had been promoted into the position of captain of arms when Alyce's husband died, and he was never far from Cynwulf's side when needed. "My lord, there is a party approaching the castle bearing the banner of the king, along with another I do not recognize."

"The king? What would bring him here?" Alyce's skin prickled with dread. Did her brother know the king was coming? Was that the reason for his unusual behavior?

"It is likely contingent dispatched on behalf of the king and not the king himself," Aelwin said to Alyce, then turned his attention back to Cynwulf. "The other banner appears to be of a bird on a crimson background, one I have not seen before."

Cynwulf muttered an oath, then grabbed his sword from where it rested against the table to slide the blade into its sheath at his waist. "I suppose a proper greeting is required."

Alyce and Aelwin stepped out of his path as he brushed past them. Aelwin followed on Cynwulf's heels, but she took her time, collecting her thoughts as she crossed the hall. Stopping at the door to catch her breath, she smoothed the wrinkles of her tunic and adjusted the gold filigree belt hanging low on her hips as she tried to calm her nerves. She needed to get to the root of her brother's odd behavior, and she did not need the distraction of unexpected guests.

She tugged on the tight arms of her chemise to cover her wrists and adjusted the wide sleeves of her tunic. When she could find nothing more about her appearance to fidget and fuss over, she pushed open the heavy door of the castle and descended the narrow stairs to the bailey.

There had been no warning of a contingent from the king arriving. At least, none that she was aware of. For a fleeting moment, she suspected Cynwulf of hiding the news from her but dismissed it as foolishness. He'd never been one to hide things from her, and she knew of no reason for him to start now. With a bit of luck, the party was merely stopping on their way to another destination and would be gone before the day was over.

Then she would lock Cynwulf in the solar with her until he explained whatever had him acting so strangely.