Chapter 1

"I cannot believe you are a woman grown, Brianna de Beauchamp. When I was last at Warwick four years ago you were a child." Roger Mortimer clasped the young girl's hands and kissed her brow, then held her away from him so he could have a good look. "I was present when you were born. I never would have believed such a scrawny little scrap would turn into a rare beauty."

Brianna raised her lashes and smiled at the darkly handsome Mortimer. He was easily the most charming male she had ever known, and her heart began to beat wildly. Her older brother, Rickard, was married to Roger's sister, Catherine, and was a captain in Mortimer's army.

"Your eyes would melt a heart of stone and render a strong man weak as water." Mortimer spoke with complete sincerity.

Brianna had the soulful, soft brown eyes of a doe, fringed by thick dark lashes tipped with gold.

"Mother doesn't think me a woman, nor does Father. They think at sixteen I am still a child."

"Nonsense! I was wed at fourteen and a father at fifteen. Your mother attended my wedding."

"You had your boy Edmund when you were fifteen?" Brianna asked in amazement.

Roger threw back his head and laughed. "He wouldn't be pleased to be called a boy. Edmund is a man of twenty-one and his brother, Wolf, is twenty. They patrol the Welsh Marches when I'm in Ireland."

Brianna's eyes lit with curiosity. "Wolf?"

"He found a motherless wolf cub a few years back and kept it. He's had the name ever since." Mortimer grinned and shook his head. "I can't believe it's been more than sixteen years since that night at Windrush. Where have the years gone?"

I was born at Windrush? Why the devil wasn't I born at Warwick Castle? Brianna wondered. Her thoughts were interrupted by her mother's arrival.

The elegant Countess of Warwick swept briskly into the hall. She encountered a servant bringing ale to their guest and lifted two tankards from his serving tray. "Well come, Roger! It's lovely to see you again." She handed him a tankard and lifted the other one to her own lips. "Is Lady Mortimer not with you?"

"Nay, she remained in Ireland. She has vast landholdings there and lives on a grand scale. I believe she prefers it to Wales."

"We've all heard of your victories in Ireland. Rickard corresponds regularly. You look every inch the conquering hero."

A year after Robert Bruce had defeated young King Edward and his English army at Bannockburn, Scotland's king had sent his brother, Edward, to Ireland to free the Irish from English rule. The King of England had chosen his fiercest Welsh Border Lord, Roger Mortimer, to put down the Irish insurgency. Mortimer was an outstanding military leader and within four months he had taken back Dundelk, then taken Ulster. He had remained there for the past four years as Ireland's justiciar.

Roger grinned, while his light gray eyes took in every detail of her beauty with frank male appreciation. "You have a knack for making a man feel like a conqueror, Jory." He took her fingers to his lips. "Your husband is a lucky devil."

Jory de Beauchamp rolled her eyes. "Here comes the devil now."

Warwick, now in his fifties, was still an imposing figure. The white at his temples contrasting with his black hair, and the deeper lines of his dark face were his only signs of age.

"I've put your men in the barracks beside the armory. Your capable sons have taken charge of stabling the horses and don't need my interference. Let's sit by the fire, where we can be comfortable. There is much to discuss."

Brianna, displaying good manners, withdrew from the circle, but she had no intention of leaving the hall. She sat down in a window embrasure where she could hear everything her elders said. I shouldn't…but I shall!

Mortimer stretched his long legs toward the fire. "I was surprised to learn you had withdrawn from court."

"The Despencers are the only ones with access to the king. Father and son are determined to gain political supremacy over all the earls and barons in England." Warwick's features hardened. "Our presence there became untenable."

"It broke my heart to leave Isabelle. I have been a lady of the queen's court since she arrived from France when she was thirteen. As you well know, we became dearest friends. She adored Brianna, and they became like sisters. Then Hugh Despencer dismissed me, along with the queen's other loyal ladies."

Mortimer clenched his fists. "It is beyond belief that Edward has another degenerate favorite after what happened over Gaveston. That the queen is forced to accept him would gag a maggot."

"When we rid Edward of Gaveston, the king turned to Isabelle and fathered her children like a normal husband. At that time the elder Despencer, head of the King's Council, stood firmly with the barons. Then, last year, the avaricious swine spied his chance and made his son chamberlain of the king's household, and parliament appointed him to the council. After that it didn't take Hugh Despencer long to become the king's new favorite," Warwick said with disgust.

"Once a pederast, always a pederast!" Mortimer bit back a foul oath.

Pederast? I know not the meaning of that word, but I warrant it means something bad. Brianna decided she would ask her mother, but not in the presence of her father. He would keep me innocent forever.

"The avaricious Despencer is the reason I returned from Ireland. He stole two manors from young Hugh Audley by registering them in his own name, and is doing his best to appropriate certain estates that were granted to me. Hugh Despencer covets the lordship of Gower, which lies along his lands in Glamorgan. Gower belongs to John Mowbray, but Despencer claims he never got a license from the king. He's urged Edward to declare it forfeit and grant it to him." Mortimer flung out his arm in a flamboyant gesture. "Since when did a Welsh Marcher baron ever need a license from the King of England for his land? Marcher barons have had the privilege of Welsh land for centuries!"

Roger Mortimer has such a commanding, royal presence. He is exactly what a king should look and sound like, because he is a descendant of King Brutus from the Arthurian legends. She sighed.

"Obviously Despencer is trying to build a large lordship for himself in what has always been the Marcher barons' power base." Warwick made no effort to hide his contempt for the Despencers.

"Exactly!" Mortimer said grimly. "His aggrandizement is a direct threat to all the Marcher lords. Our independence and even the lands and castles we own are at stake."

"Mowbray didn't surrender his land, surely?" Warwick asked.

"He adamantly refused, so the king sent men to take it by force. I immediately went to Westminster to persuade the king from the folly of a direct attack on Marcher privileges. When he would not listen, I sought audience with the queen to ask if she would use her influence. It was then that Isabelle told me all the power is in the hands of Edward's catamite!"

"The barons hate and detest the Despencers," Warwick declared.

"They are brutal and greedy and Hugh has an insatiable desire for land and wealth," Jory added.

"The earls of Hereford, Mowbray, Audley, and d'Amory have joined with us Mortimers to form a confederacy against the Despencers. I have come to rally the barons to join us. Together we can and we must utterly destroy them."

Warwick nodded. "We'll go to Lancaster and enlist his support." He looked up as a tall youth fashioned in his own image entered the hall. "Here's Guy Thomas. He must have been only ten or eleven the last time you saw him. He has grown apace."

Brianna took advantage of the distraction of her brother to slip from the hall unnoticed. Her feet carried her in the direction of the stables. If a score of mounts belonging to Mortimer's men were being accommodated, she wanted to make sure that her palfrey, Venus, was kept safe from the other horses.

She got only as far as the courtyard when the sight of two snarling, growling canines who looked as if they were about to kill each other filled her with dread. "Brutus! No!" she screamed, and without hesitation threw herself between the combatants and flung her arms about her father's black wolfhound. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked at his opponent. "Hell's teeth, it isn't a dog at all, it's a wolf!"

A male descended upon her and roughly dragged her away from the two animals. "You stupid girl! Have you no common sense?"

Furious, she drew back her hand and slapped his dark, arrogant face. "How dare you bring your wild beast to Warwick?"

He grabbed her hand, forced it behind her back, and stared down at her with fierce gray eyes. "My wolf is tame, which is more than I can say for you. They are only challenging each other to test the boundaries. Let nature take its course," he ordered.

To Brianna's amazement the two long-legged animals circled each other with their lips drawn back to show their fangs; then they stopped and stood eye to eye, growling in their throats. When both stood their ground and neither backed away, it was a standoff. She raised her eyes to stare at the intense, dark face of the male who held her in his iron grip. "Take your hands from me, Wolf Mortimer."

"You know my name." He let go of her wrist. "You have me at a disadvantage, mistress."

She raked him with a haughty glance. "And always shall." How in the name of God could this uncivilized lout be the son of Roger Mortimer, who is the epitome of chivalry?

"Brianna, is that you?"

She swung about to look at the tall young man who spoke her name and realized he must be Edmund Mortimer. He had been a gangling youth the last time she had seen him. "Indeed it is, Edmund. Welcome to Warwick." She gave him a dazzling smile, hoping it would affront his loutish brother. "They are serving ale in the hall. You must be parched. Come, Brutus!"

The wolfhound trotted to her side and Brianna turned and said coldly, "Keep your wild beast in the stables. He is not welcome in the castle."

"She is a bitch," Edmund corrected gently.

"She is indeed," Wolf Mortimer declared. "A bitch who needs taming." He touched his cheek where she had slapped him, then threw back his head and laughed insolently.

Brianna took Edmund's arm and walked briskly toward the castle. "Your brother is uncouth."

He looked down at her apologetically. "I'm afraid it is a Mortimer trait."

"I don't believe that. Your father is one of the most charming men I have ever met, and I'm not the only female to think so. He is renowned for his fatal attraction."

Wolf Mortimer stared after the pair until they entered the castle. The impact of the beautiful female had been like a blow to his solar plexus. The moment she slapped him, a raging lust ignited and ran through his veins like wildfire. His nature was both impulsive and decisive, and he knew instantly that he wanted her. Not only was she exquisite to look at, but she was all fire and ice. She was a spirited female who would give as good as she got, rather than being meek and submissive, and the thought excited him. I recognize your towering pride, since I have the sinful trait myself, Brianna de Beauchamp. Your challenge is irresistible!

At the evening meal Brianna's brother, Guy Thomas, almost two years younger than she, sat with Mortimer's sons. Their talk was all about horses and hunting and weapons. Brianna had chosen to sit with her mother's ladies, rather than up on the dais, and it gave her an unimpeded view of her parents and their guests.

Her mother, Jory de Beauchamp, was an exquisite beauty who easily held the attention of every male in the hall, including their guest of honor, Roger Mortimer.

Brianna gazed at the handsome Marcher lord with her heart in her eyes. Her glance was suddenly drawn against her will to Wolf Mortimer. The pet wolf is not the only reason for his name. He has the look of a dark, lean predator. I warrant he is both dominant and dangerous when the mood takes him. His pale gray eyes are startling in his swarthy face. When the bold devil looks at me his gaze is so penetrating, he seems to discern my thoughts. Brianna gave a delicate shudder of distaste and forced her eyes away from him.

Her mother's ladies were speaking of how much they missed being at the Queen's Court. Brianna missed Queen Isabelle and longed to see her again. She began to daydream about how lovely the gardens would be at Windsor Castle. Before the month of March was over, spring would arrive. The queen always had exciting masques portraying Queen Guinevere and King Arthur, and she and Isabelle had fun choosing the costumes and playacting in the roles. There was lively music and dancing and Brianna was at an age to attract a great deal of male attention and had never lacked for partners.

Brianna also missed the company of Prince Edward, whose household was at Windsor. She often rode out with him and shared in his hawking lessons and watched as he was taught swordsmanship and how to shoot with a longbow. She sighed and wished they could soon return to Windsor. She longed to see Queen Isabelle's new baby. Joan had been born in the Tower of London and would soon be a year old.

Her thoughts were brought back to the present when she realized that the meal was over. Her mother rose from the head table to withdraw and leave the men to their wine and their plans. This was the signal for her ladies to retire and Brianna left also.

She went upstairs to her mother's chamber, eager to get answers to some of the things she'd heard today that puzzled her. She watched as her mother removed her emeralds and locked them safely in her jewel casket.

"I always assumed I was born in this castle, as was Guy Thomas. Why was I born at Windrush?"

Jory, caught off guard by her daughter's question, gave her a half-truth. "Your father and I had a quarrel." Her green eyes sparkled with amusement. "I withdrew to my own castle of Windrush to bring him to heel."

Brianna laughed merrily at the absurd suggestion that her father could ever be brought to heel, but she knew her mother was an enchantress, and wanted to be exactly like her.

Jory picked up her brush. "Any more questions?"

"Yes." Brianna's admiring glance lingered on her mother's beautiful silver-gilt hair. "What is a pederast?"

Jory's eyes widened. "Come and sit down and I'll brush your hair. You were listening today when your father and I were talking to Roger."

Brianna sat down at the dressing table before the mirror. "Of course I was listening."

"It refers to a man who loves males rather than females."

"King Edward loves males? What about Queen Isabelle?"

Jory sighed. "It's a long story, infinitely sad and disturbing, but I suppose you are old enough to hear it."

Brianna watched in the mirror as her mother applied long soothing brushstrokes to her red-gold hair.

"When Edward married Isabelle and brought her from France, she was only thirteen years old. They had separate households at Windsor until she was old enough for the marriage to be consummated, and I was chosen as one of her ladies. Young Isabelle was madly in love with Edward and thought him a golden god. He hardly noticed her. He had eyes for only his favorite, Piers Gaveston, who had been placed in the prince's household when he was a boy. When King Edward learned of the immoral relationship between his son and Gaveston he banished him. But the moment the old king died, Edward brought Gaveston back to court."

"When I was a little girl, I remember that Edward and Gaveston were always together. No wonder Queen Isabelle detested him."

"We all hated Gaveston. He manipulated Edward like a puppet on a string. He was greedy and grasping and had a sycophantic entourage of Gascon relatives and friends who bled the king dry. He paraded about in the Crown Jewels, and Edward even gave him the jewels that Isabelle received as wedding presents."

"Edward actually fell in love with Gaveston?" Brianna asked.

"For Edward it was more than love at first sight, it was complete surrender. He showered him with gifts and lands and titles, and Gaveston turned the king against the barons."

"When did Isabelle learn that Edward loved Gaveston?"

"When she walked in on them and found them in bed together. Her naive innocence was stripped away in an instant. She was devastated and wrote to her father. The King of France contacted Thomas, Earl of Lancaster. Since Thomas was England's high steward and the second greatest power in the land, King Philip charged him to become the queen's champion and rid Edward of his lover."

"What happened?" Brianna hung on to every word.

"Parliament banished Gaveston, more than once, but each time Edward brought him back again. The last straw for me came after my dearest friend, Princess Joanna, died. The king immediately married his sister's daughter, young Margaret, to his lover so that he would get all the lands and castles that her father, Gilbert de Clare, had left her."

"I can remember how upset you were. I thought it was because Joanna had died, but now I see that it was more."

"Margaret was like my own daughter. Edward married her to a monster and there was nothing I could do about it. The king ruled by divine right, but in truth it was Gaveston who ruled!"

Brianna, who had heard disturbing gossip about Gaveston's death over the years, whispered, "Did Father murder him?"

Mother's and daughter's eyes met in the mirror. "Good God, no! Rumors have laid so many deaths at your father's feet and none of them are true. Parliament tried Gaveston and found him guilty on forty different charges such as counseling the king to do evil, stealing the Great Seal of England and using it for his own purposes, and urging the king to civil war. Gaveston fled to his castle of Scarborough, which the king had given him. He finally surrendered to Pembroke, on condition that his life be spared. Pembroke and his soldiers brought the prisoner to Warwick. I remember that night so well. Thomas of Lancaster arrived and demanded custody of Gaveston. I knew how much Lancaster hated him and knew what he would do. I used all my feminine wiles on your father to keep him at Warwick that night."

"Were your suspicions correct?" Brianna whispered.

Her mother nodded. "As soon as they were on Lancaster land, Gaveston was executed and Thomas took full responsibility." She put down the brush and sat on the bed. "I was vastly relieved that young Margaret was widowed from Gaveston. The following year she married Hugh Audley, the young Marcher baron who was worthy of inheriting the earldom of Gloucester through his wife."

Brianna stretched out beside her. "Tell me the rest."

"In his grief over the loss of Gaveston, Edward reached out to his wife because he had no one else to turn to. Isabelle knew he had always been a weakling, but she felt compassion for his anguish and she comforted him. In her innocence she thought that at long last, Edward had begun to love her. They became man and wife in more than name and she had Prince Edward, followed by her other children. Though they were not in love, their relationship was at least amicable and polite and lasted almost ten years. All seemed well and fine until the greedy, grasping Despencers made their move. The elder Despencer, who was on the King's Council, appointed his son Hugh to the post of Chamberlain of the King's Household. Hugh Despencer soon slipped into Edward's bed and the trouble started all over again."

"They are sodomites," Brianna said in a shocked voice.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Wherever do you learn these words? Your father would run mad if he heard you."

"That word is in the Bible," Brianna said innocently. "I sensed there was something peculiar about Hugh Despencer." A lump came into her throat. "Poor Queen Isabelle must feel so alone. She must miss us as much as we miss her."

"It is infinitely sad. She has never known a man's love. In the early years of her marriage she worshipped Edward with her whole heart. I cannot count the number of times I held a sobbing Isabelle in my arms to try to comfort and soothe her. She was sick with jealousy that the handsome young king gave all his love and attention to Gaveston and could spare none for her. After his favorite was permanently removed, Edward turned to Isabelle as if he were seeing her for the first time. She was generous enough to forgive him, naively believing he was cured of his aberration. She did her duty by the king and gave him children, and the outside world began to believe that their king and queen had a normal marriage. But now that he has shamed and humiliated her once more with Hugh Despencer, her marriage is finished."

"I would never allow myself to fall in love with a man unless he had proven that he loved me," Brianna declared fervently.

Jory smiled at her daughter's innocence. "You cannot control love, darling. It controls you. The heart wants what it wants."

As Brianna made her way from the Master Tower, she was deep in thought. The things she had learned tonight answered so many of the questions that had puzzled her about the royal couple. Their relationship was cool, polite, and distant; nothing like the passionate affair between her father and mother.

She went down the hallway that led to the Lady Tower and her own room. When she got to the junction leading to the east wing that housed the guest chambers, she came face-to-face with Wolf Mortimer. She stiffened as she saw his companion.

"I forbade you to bring your wolf into the castle!"

He looked at her with tolerant amusement. "I usually ignore orders from females."

Brianna gasped. "How dare you refuse to obey me?"

He tried valiantly not to laugh at her. "I was brought up with a gaggle of spirited sisters who continually tried to rule the roost. I've been handling women and their whims since I was five. I'm not about to start obeying female orders at my age."

"I am not one of your sisters."

"No, you are far more vain and spoiled."

The bold devil looks as if he enjoys goading me. "Your manners are atrocious, Mortimer!"

"While you have the manners of a fine lady, Brianna de Beauchamp. Go back to the nursery where you belong."

"Nursery!" Brianna cried in outrage.

"Only a baby would be afraid of Shadow."

"Afraid? I'm not afraid of your wretched wolf."

"Prove it," he challenged.

Her towering pride outweighed her fear. After a slight hesitation she held out her hand. The silver she-wolf sniffed it cautiously while its golden eyes assessed her.

"Your scent doesn't alarm her," he declared.

"Hers doesn't alarm me. The stink of her master , however, offends me to high heaven." She thrust up her chin and swept off. The sound of his mocking laughter followed her down the hallway.