Prologue

PROLOGUE

Year of Our Lord 1243

Chateau de Montreuil Bonnin, France

"I 'll not speak one word to you unless you tell me what sort of dowry your daughter has."

The rain was pounding, the lightning flashing, and the knights from the army of Henry III of England were up to their knees in mud and blood, in that order. The entire field of battle had turned into a quagmire of sludge, and when one was trying to swing a heavy broadsword, it was difficult to keep one's footing.

Knights were sliding onto their arses all over the field.

But not the man who demanded dowry information. Sir Richard de Lohr, son of Richard I's greatest knight, Christopher de Lohr, had managed to keep his footing and his dignity as he engaged enemy knights, but the man following him around was covered in so much mud that it was in his ears and nose. But that didn't prevent him from trailing after a man he very much wanted to bargain with.

In spite of the muddy ear canals, he could hear very clearly when he wanted to.

"She is very wealthy, Roi," he shouted over sounds of the storm. "Will you at least stop to discuss it?"

Richard, who had gone by the nickname Roi since he'd been a young lad, paused and turned to the man with a grin.

"I am supposed to stop what I am doing?"

"Aye!"

"We're in the middle of a battle, Robin."

"I am well aware."

"Did you not think this might not be the most opportune time to discuss a marriage between our children?"

"It was the only time I could get your attention, you bullish man."

Roi let out a peal of laughter, but it was cut short when a knight bearing the colors of the Count of Poitiers charged at him through the sheets of rain. He was on foot, as Roi was, as the knights had long ditched the horses because the mud was so bad that equine legs were in danger of breaking. The French knight's movement wasn't really a charge so much as it was a slip-sliding attempt to get at him, but Roi was ready. After a nasty battle with broadswords swinging beneath the stormy sky, Roi managed to undercut the knight and slice him behind the right knee. Tendons and muscles were cut.

The man went down for good.

Roi walked away.

"Why do you not kill him?" Robin demanded, looking at the downed knight. "You are in a perfect position to do so!"

Roi glanced at the knight who was writing in agony. Then he turned to the chatterbox next to him. "Because he is an excellent knight," he said. "I knew him before Henry and Alphonse decided to battle one another. Men like Etienne do not deserve to be killed, but I have disabled him. He will not follow us."

"He was your friend?" Robin asked, shocked.

Roi looked around the field of battle. "Not a friend, but I know most of the knights out here," he said. "I know them on sight. Chances are I have fought with them or against them. You forget who my father is and who my uncle is. You must further forget who my family is."

"I have not forgotten anything." Robin le Bec, also known as the Earl of Cheltenham, wiped the mud out of his eyes. "I know who your family is and who you are. I know you come from a great line of knights and your father is mayhap the most powerful warlord in all of England. Well do I know this. Why do you think I wish for my daughter to marry your son? She deserves a de Lohr legacy."

Roi grinned. "You know that you are not the only father who has been asking after my son," he said. "I only have one. He is very much in demand because of who his father and grandfather are."

"I am highly aware of this," Robin said. "Christ, Roi, stop taunting me. Tell me what you want to hear in order to ensure that this betrothal happens."

Roi turned away from him and headed west, where the English army was starting to gather because the battle was waning. The French, suffering a massive siege at a Lusignan property of Chateau de Montreuil Bonnin, had made the grave mistake of opening the portcullis in the hopes of charging the English and chasing them off after three days of being bottled up in a relatively small castle. It had been a foolish move by an amateur. The French, led by one of the Count of Marche's men, had underestimated the English resolve.

And the English numbers.

Now, the English had the beautiful castle of Montreuil Bonnin and about two hundred French prisoners, including knights who had fought bravely. But for Roi, the man whose nickname translated to king in French, it was simply one battle in a long line of battles in France as Henry III fought against the Count of Poitiers in an attempt to keep some of his Angevin properties. Roi had been in France for a solid year.

He just wanted to go home.

But he would return to a dozen fathers hounding him about his eldest and only son, Beckett, a fine lad with all of the de Lohr characteristics that fathers wanted for their daughters. He was handsome, skilled, of good character, educated, and strong. He was also wealthy. Roi had been fielding demanding fathers for the better part of three years and now, with Beckett approaching his nineteenth year and already in line to be knighted next year, that gang of eager fathers were pestering Roi like vermin, le Bec included.

"What do I want?" Roi repeated the man's last question. "I want to know how much of a dowry you intend to give my son. I want to know what virtues your daughter has that makes her better than any of the other daughters I've been offered. What makes her so special?"

Robin was right on his heels as they made their way to the east side of the castle walls.

"Because she's my daughter," he said firmly. "She's bright and brilliant and obedient. She would make an excellent match for Beckett. They would produce powerful, intelligent sons to carry on the de Lohr name. Does that not appeal to you?"

"Nay."

Robin's bushy eyebrows flew up in outrage. "It does not? What kind of man are you?"

Roi glanced at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "One that knows you want something badly enough to pay well for it," he said. "Let us be honest, Robin—marriages are based on wealth and importance, not on beauty or obedience. You have an adequate army and your proximity to the marches and my father's empire is desirable. I will be honest when I tell you that you have that advantage over many others. But you've yet to tell me what your daughter's dowry is. Don't you even know?"

Robin reached out and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to stop. "You have a mercenary soul, Richard de Lohr," he growled. "You want to know what my daughter's dowry is? Then here it is—she is the heiress to Cheltenham. If your son marries my daughter, he shall inherit my lands and titles when I die. Through her mother, who is a de Bermingham, she will inherit a small fortune. I have nearly a thousand marks of gold in my treasury at home and nearly as much here, with me, as I travel with my army. I will give you half of that for a dowry today if you agree to a betrothal, and if that is still not good enough for you, then I hope you choke on your own arrogance and I hope your son ends up marrying a pauper."

He was genuinely angry by the time he was finished, leaving Roi biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"That is quite a dowry, Robin," he said, resuming his walk. "Why did you not tell me all of this before?"

Robin was still peeved. "Because the moment I start talking about all my daughter will inherit, I can see the glitter of gold in men's eyes," he said. "Do you think my daughter is not much pursued? She is, you know. She is a much sought-after heiress, so do not think your son is the only one in demand. My daughter has her share of suitors."

"Yet you have hounded me about a match."

"Because I want a de Lohr. That is what Deedee deserves."

"Deedee?"

"Lady Diara Elizabeth Esmerelda Julietta le Bec," Robin said. "That is my daughter's name. But she will answer to Deedee."

Roi came to a halt. They were nearing the field where the English were gathering, and overhead, more rain was starting to fall. His gaze drifted over the destruction before them, the burning castle, the red mud, the injured men, the general status of warfare.

The mood of the conversation suddenly changed. Where it had been feisty banter, now it became serious as Roi's expression took on a distant cast.

"I have been looking at this chaos for almost a year," he said. "I have told Henry that I am returning home at the conclusion of this particular battle. I've given the man a year of my life and more besides, and it is time for me to return home and resume my life. My father is quite elderly, and the truth is that he will probably not be with us much longer and I would like to spend his last years with him. Henry has agreed. But when I go home and see my family, I will take home news of my son's betrothal to the Cheltenham heiress."

Robin was gearing up for another round of verbal battle, but Roi's statement had him sputtering.

"You will ?" he said, eyes wide. "But of course you will! My dear friend, I am delighted!"

He threw himself at Roi, kissing the man's cheeks, literally clapping and cheering in both relief and happiness in a gesture sorely misplaced among the litter of a battle.

"Aye, I will," Roi said, wiping his cheeks where the man had kissed him because his breath smelled like sour wine. "When you return to England, you will send me word so that we may arrange a meeting for our children and families. I think it is only right."

"Of course, of course," Robin said eagerly. "I will be returning home very soon. My wife and daughter will be thrilled with this news."

"How old did you say she was?"

"She is two years younger than your son—she has seen eighteen years."

"I'm assuming she fostered in a fine home."

"One of the finest," Robin said. "Carisbrooke in Devon."

"Ah," Roi said. "With de Redvers. Then she knows something of politics if she's been at Carisbrooke."

Robin nodded. "I've not seen her in a year, but the last time we met, she was able to carry on a very astute conversation about the political climate of England," he said proudly. "Your son will not be disappointed, Roi. Diara will make a fine wife."

Roi simply nodded before resuming his march toward the gathering English. "Beckett has been at Selbourne Castle in Hampshire," he said. "That is the home of the Sheriff of Hampshire, you know. My son has been well educated in law and order, which was the main reason I sent him there. He is to be a proctor in the king's council when he comes of age, so his education in the laws of the land has been intense. I received the very same education."

Robin was rushing after him again. "I know," he said. "Why do you think I have pursued this betrothal? I know your background. I know that the king relies on you for law interpretation and order. I know that is why you are here, Roi. You are not simply a knight sworn to the king. You help him create the laws and treaties and you have advised him, legally, throughout this campaign. You are a very important man."

Roi grunted, glancing up at the castle again. "And this one went awry," he said. "We tried to solve it with negotiations, but the French would not listen. Poitiers' men seem to be under the impression that they can win this battle."

It didn't appear that they could, given the state of the castle, but Robin didn't comment. He had what he wanted, and that was all that mattered to him at the moment. He ran to catch up with Roi and tried to put his arm around his neck, a difficult task considering how tall Roi was. He settled for putting it around his shoulders.

"Forget the French," he said. "We have something to celebrate tonight, you and me. I shall finally have the son I have hoped for in Beckett de Lohr, and you… you will have a daughter you can be proud of."

Roi glanced at him. "I already have two daughters I am proud of," he said. "But I know what you mean. We shall welcome Diara with open arms."

Robin was beside himself with glee. A de Lohr husband for his only child and a legacy that would continue with the de Lohr name behind it. Six months of pestering Roi de Lohr had finally come to fruition, and he was thrilled to death. He needed to have a contract drawn up as quickly as possible and executed because he didn't want Roi to change his mind. Men had a habit of doing that if something more attractive was presented, and Roi had made no secret of the fact that he wanted a prestigious marriage for his son. Diara le Bec brought the Cheltenham earldom with her as well as lands in Bedfordshire, so she was as good as it got. At least, on the surface.

If her reputation didn't reach Roi's ears before the contract could be signed.

Robin had every reason to rush the contract.

And he would.