Chapter 2

J ust as dawn was breaking, Brianna entered the stables and saddled Venus. She was an avid horsewoman, much to her father's delight, and he had promised to endow her with his castle of Flamstead in Hertfordshire where he crossbred his distinctive and much-sought-after Warwick horses, renowned for their speed and strength.

She saw the outline of a tall male as he entered the stables. The light was dim and she suspected it was Wolf Mortimer. The sharp retort died on her lips as he drew close and she saw that it was her cousin, Lincoln Robert de Warenne.

Her frown turned into a smile of surprise and delight. "I had no idea you were here!" She welcomed his warm kiss of greeting and the ardent look of admiration he bestowed upon her.

"It was near midnight when we rode in. The River Nene was swollen with the thaw and the bridge was out."

"I warrant Uncle Lynx was cursing a blue streak."

"Actually, he showed a deal of patience. Said he'd encountered worse in Scotland and it gave him a chance to teach his sons how to deal with adversity."

"So Jamie is here too?"

He nodded. "The young devil's still snoring under the covers."

"Would you like to ride out with me?"

"You know that's why I came to the stables at this ungodly hour." He made no secret of the fact that he was highly attracted to her. "My horse cut his leg last night. I was hoping you'd take a look at it—no one knows how to treat their ailments better than you, Brianna."

"You flatter me beyond reason. All my herbal cures I learned from your mother. My concoctions do well enough, but Aunt Jane has a mystic ability to commune with animals that I haven't perfected yet."

Brianna inspected his horse's leg. "The cut looks clean."

"I washed it the minute we arrived," he assured her.

"An ointment made from briony will do the trick. I keep a large pot of it here in the stables." She retrieved the ointment from the shelf and applied it to the cut while Lincoln Robert held the animal's leg still. "It will stop the wound from fretting. Choose one of the Warwick horses. Your mount should heal in a couple of days."

The pair rode side by side, falling into an easy lope so they could talk. Lincoln Robert spoke of accompanying his mother to Scotland so she could visit her family. "Plans aren't firm yet, but I was born there, so I'm a native Scot."

Brianna glanced sideways at his mane of tawny hair and green eyes. "You look more like a lynx to me," she teased.

He laughed. "The de Warenne curse!"

"I too would love to visit Scotland. My mother spent almost as many years there as your father. It would be a great adventure."

"It's only talk at the moment, but if she does decide to go, I'll suggest you come with us—Mother would love to have you."

"Thank you, Lincoln. I adore Aunt Jane. She's so sweet, gentle, and even-tempered, compared to my mother and me."

"I admire a fiery temperament."

Brianna laughed ruefully. "I have inherited my mother's temperament, but not her lovely silver-gilt hair, alas."

"Your hair is beautiful. The morning sun burnishes it to molten red gold."

"No more—you will turn my head. Only yesterday I was accused of being vain and spoiled. I'll race you back!"

The pair galloped neck and neck. Because of Brianna's lighter weight and expert skill she arrived in the castle courtyard just ahead of Lincoln. It was filled with men readying their horses, and when she saw that Wolf Mortimer was there, she deliberately lifted her face toward Lincoln Robert and gave him a radiant smile. "You are so gallant. You let me win!"

He dismounted in a flash and came to her side. He held up his arms and she came down into them, managing to display her petticoats and her long, black riding boots.

Warwick arrived, accompanied by his brother-in-law, de Warenne. Lynx reached out his large hand and ruffled Brianna's hair. "How's my imp of Satan?" he teased.

"This week I am contemplating the convent."

"Don't be a nun, Brianna," he said with a straight face. "You'd have to cover your glorious tresses." He spoke to his son. "We are on our way to Kenilworth, then Pontefract. Go and tell your brother to hasten or we'll leave without him."

Brianna intended to go with Lincoln Robert, but just then Roger Mortimer emerged from the stables mounted on his black stallion. He cut such a handsome, gallant figure that the sight of him rooted her feet to the ground and she gazed at him with undisguised admiration. His teeth flashed white in his dark face as his two sons, Edmund and Wolf, fell in beside him. She sighed and unconsciously ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She caught herself and blushed. Suddenly, she felt someone's eyes on her and glanced up to find that they belonged to Wolf Mortimer. His penetrating stare read her thoughts. She was mortified to see him grin knowingly.

Brianna went up to her chamber to change from her riding dress and found the tiring woman who had once been her nurse, making her bed. "I'll do that, Mary. Sit down, there's something I want to ask you."

"And what would that be, Mistress Inquisitive?"

"I only just learned that I was born at Windrush. Why did you never tell me?"

"I don't remember, lovey," she said evasively.

"Mary, that is a deliberate lie. I know that Father and Mother had a quarrel and she went running off to her own castle. I want to know what their quarrel was about."

"It was all a silly misunderstanding," Mary said lightly.

"A misunderstanding about what?" Brianna persisted.

Mary sighed and gave in. "A wicked Welsh serving woman, who had come to Warwick with your father's first wife, gave your mother ale that had been dosed with pennyroyal. Luckily, your mother didn't drink it, or you wouldn't be here, lovey."

Brianna gasped and went pale. "She tried to abort me?"

"I suspect the woman was daft in the head."

"But why did my parents quarrel?"

"Your mother thought Earl Warwick had dosed the ale, and she ran off to Windrush to protect you."

"But why on earth would she think Father wanted to abort me?"

Mary hesitated as she searched for an answer that would satisfy Brianna's curiosity. "Women with child are often plagued by strange notions. Earl Warwick immediately sent the servant back to Wales. And then he came riding to Windrush to set things right. It was all a terrible misunderstanding."

Brianna smiled. "Thank you for telling me, Mary."

When the woman left, so did Brianna's smile. Mother thought my father wanted to be rid of me…She left Warwick Castle to protect me. Why would she suspect such a thing? Could it be possible that Father didn't want me?

Brianna was horrified at the thought, and rejected the idea immediately. She wished that she hadn't relentlessly pursued the subject. Of course he wanted me! Father loves me with all his heart.

When the nobles arrived at Henry Plantagenet's castle, only five miles north of Warwick, they felt themselves fortunate to find his brother, Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, at Kenilworth. This saved them the long ride to Pontefract.

They gathered in the Great Hall and enjoyed the hospitality of a meal while Lancaster and his brother listened to Mortimer's grievances about Hugh Despencer taking land and castles that belonged to the Marcher lords.

"It isn't only the Marcher barons who are affected by the insatiable Despencer greed. If any man owns aught they desire, they imprison him and confiscate it. Their political power is dangerous and must not be allowed to continue," Thomas declared.

"My sentiments exactly," Mortimer said. "I have formed a confederacy with Marcher barons Hereford, Mowbray, Audley, d'Amory, and my uncle Mortimer of Chirk, who has been the Justiciar of North Wales for years. I have come to ask the support of Warwick and Lancaster. We must pledge to form a powerful alliance before we are ruined."

"We must be resolved to force the king to dismiss Hugh Despencer. There is no time to lose. This paramour is far more devious and clever than Gaveston ever was," Warwick warned.

"We are faced with an impossible choice," Roger Mortimer pointed out. "The Marcher barons have always been staunch Royalists. To rise up against a lawful king is treason. But Hugh Despencer is proving ruinous. He is determined to rob us of our time-hallowed privileges and we cannot allow it to continue."

Lancaster glanced at his brother, Henry, and then he nodded. "We will stand with you against the Despencers." Thomas was not known for his decisiveness. He had the clout of five earldoms and could have been the power behind the throne, if he had asserted control over the young king from the beginning. "What do you propose is the best plan of action?"

Warwick said, "I warrant the best plan is to mount an offensive against the Despencers on the Marcher lands in South Wales. I will return with you, Mortimer, and bring a force of men."

"Thank you. I have an army, but will need to recruit more."

Lynx de Warenne pledged to send troops the moment he returned home to his castle of Hedingham. He had recently inherited the earldom of Surrey from his late uncle, John de Warenne, and commanded a large number of men-at-arms.

"I pledge to bring men if you need them," Lancaster promised.

"Done. I believe I have everything I came for," Roger Mortimer said decisively. "I thank you, gentlemen."

On the ride back to Warwick from Kenilworth, Wolf Mortimer maneuvered his mount so that he was riding beside Lincoln Robert de Warenne. "I have been admiring your horse."

"It isn't mine. It's a Warwick horse I borrowed to ride out with my cousin Brianna early this morning."

"I saw you racing. You were gallant to let her win."

"I didn't. She won fair and square. Brianna rides like the wind. She has a wealth of knowledge about horses. Her father crossbreeds them at Flamstead, an easy riding distance from Windsor when she and her mother were at the Queen's Court. I miss her company."

"Your castle of Hedingham is in Essex, some distance from Windsor, is it not?" Wolf asked.

"Yes, but Hedingham is only a few miles from Flamstead. We have spent a good deal of time there together."

It was obvious to Wolf that Lincoln de Warenne was infatuated with Brianna. He spoke of her in a proprietary way. I sense that there is an understanding between them. His dark brows drew together momentarily in deep concentration, and then they cleared. Poor de Warenne—you will be doomed to disappointment when I steal the prize away!

"I thought I'd have at least a week's peace and quiet when you departed," Jory teased her husband. "Why are you back so soon?"

"Lancaster was at Kenilworth. Mortimer got his pledge."

"Thomas was no doubt making the rounds of the wealthy castles he recently inherited from his wife's late father."

"I envy him Derby. Some men have all the luck," he taunted.

"Ah, but do you envy him Alice de Lacy?"

Warwick grimaced. "Not often. I suppose I'll have to content myself with beauty." He dipped his head and kissed her.

"I sincerely hope you were served a hot meal at Kenilworth. All you will get here tonight is cold fare."

"I'll make you hot for me," he murmured.

She slapped his hand as it reached for her bottom.

After the meal, Guy Thomas challenged his de Warenne cousins to a game of dice and the Mortimer brothers elbowed their way in. When Wolf began to win, young de Beauchamp was most impressed with his skill and watched his every move. The dice matched whatever call he made, no matter how carelessly he spun them across the table. "How do you do that? What's your secret?"

"His secret is luck," Edmund Mortimer said. "My brother has the devil's own luck."

Wolf Mortimer had inherited the gift of second sight and other intuitive powers from his Celtic ancestors. He was grateful that Edmund had not revealed his real secret.

Wolf looked at the earnest young face of Guy Thomas. "I feel compelled to tell you the truth." He smiled gently. "It's not luck, it's practice."

Guy Thomas glanced up and saw his sister. "Brianna, come and watch—Wolf Mortimer has an amazing skill at dice."

She had wanted to draw closer to the group of young males who were having great fun and hadn't seemed to even notice her. She moved toward the table and stood beside Lincoln.

"Would you care to hazard a throw, Mistress de Beauchamp?" Wolf Mortimer held out the dice, his gray eyes challenging her.

Lincoln voiced his disapproval. "Brianna has no interest in playing dice—she knows nothing of games of chance."

"Course she does," her brother declared. "Who do you think taught me?"

Wolf knew she would not be able to resist, especially when told she should not indulge.

Brianna looked at her cousin and said lightly, "I shouldn't…but I shall! Thank you for making my decision for me, Lincoln." She took the dice that were held out so temptingly on Wolf Mortimer's palm. "What was your last throw?"

"I rolled a ten."

She looked directly into his eyes and saw the bold challenge. "I can beat that." She cast the dice with the aplomb of a goddess bestowing a favor on mere mortals, and then walked away as if she were completely confident of the outcome.

"Double six!" Her brother laughed. "Now, that was luck."

Wolf's eyes gleamed with admiration. "No, that was pride." He scooped up the dice before anyone else could touch them. He knew that traces of Brianna's essence would be left upon them and, if he chose, he could use it for his own purpose.

Jory de Beauchamp was enjoying a rare conversation with her brother before they retired. "Poor Lynx, you chose an unfortunate time to visit. The moment you arrived, you were whisked away and embroiled in the trouble of others."

"The shameful way the country is being run affects all of us. The barons must stand together. Edward is so weak and feckless. The Despencers have usurped the king's royal power. We must take it back from them—we have no choice."

"Now that you have inherited the earldom of Surrey, you must find the burden of your responsibilities much heavier."

"Not really. I've been earl in all but name for some time because of our uncle John's ill health."

Jory placed her small hand upon his large one. "Yes, he relied upon you for so much, and you never let him down."

"That's debatable, Minx. The Earl of Surrey as well as his cousin Pembroke were always staunch king's men. Now that the earldom is mine, I'm taking the side of the barons."

"The Earl of Pembroke is the king's godfather. He made vows that he will not break, no matter how dishonorable Edward becomes. You are doing what is right and just," she assured him.

"I actually came to ask your advice. Jane hasn't seen her family in over sixteen years and I know she would dearly love to return to Scotland for a visit. Since there is a signed truce in effect, do you think such a journey would be safe?"

"I see no physical danger, but would it be politically advisable? You surely don't imagine King Edward has forgiven the barons who refused to take their troops and fight at Bannockburn?"

He grinned. "Lancaster, Warwick, Arundel, and de Warenne. We were within our legal rights to refuse. The king did not get Parliament's permission to go to war with Scotland."

"That was the excuse you used. You and Arundel were boyhood friends with Robert Bruce. Your lands in Essex ran together."

"Before we left Scotland, I swore an oath to Robert that I would never again take up arms against him. I suspect Warwick refused to fight at Bannockburn for love of you, Jory."

"Well, he may have wanted to kill Robert for having once been my lover, but Guy truly believed that the Bruce was the rightful King of Scotland." She quickly changed the subject. "Rickard answered the call to arms, as did Roger Mortimer. They have always been loyal to the king."

"At least spending the years in Ireland kept them out of the barons' continual quarrels with the king."

"Until now. Where is the thanks for all they have done? The king turns a blind eye while his lover, Despencer, steals their land in the Welsh Marches."

"Well, we can make no plans for Jane to visit Scotland until this trouble has been resolved. Perhaps next year. Do you have no desire to see Scotland again, Jory?"

"No, none. My heart belongs to Warwick."

Lynx knew that his sister meant Warwick the man and not the castle. "Here he comes. I will bid you good night."

As Guy and Jory ascended the stairs of the Master Tower, her husband took her hand. "I'm sorry your visit with your brother was cut short, love."

"I considered asking him to stay longer, then decided against it. I know Lynx is eager to go home to Jane."

"It's the very devil when you're in love with your wife."

Jory began to unfasten her gown. "Is it indeed? Most men don't have that problem."

"Let me do that." Guy removed her gown and caressed her bare shoulders.

"Mortimer for instance. His wife, Joan, remained in Ireland. He told me she prefers it to Wales because she lives on a grand scale, but I happen to know that Roger transformed both Wigmore and Ludlow into veritable palaces. In Wales, Mortimer lives like an independent prince. They choose to live apart. They have been estranged since their youngest daughter was born."

Guy disrobed quickly. "Their families wed them so young, they had no say in the matter." His eyes followed her possessively as she hung her gown in the wardrobe.

"The marriage was to gain land and castles for the ambitious Mortimers. It wasn't a love match, though they have certainly produced enough children."

"Yes, Mortimer is a good father. He made excellent matches for four of his daughters with the sons of England's wealthiest nobles."

"He will be ambitious for his sons. I hear he has approached Lord Badlesmere, who owns Leeds Castle in Kent. He's arranged a betrothal between his heir, Edmund, and Badlesmere's daughter. The girl's mother is a de Clare and Mortimer knows that family owns almost half of Wales."

Warwick swooped up his wife and carried her to their bed. "Enough of Mortimer. Are you trying to make me jealous of the virile devil?"

Jory reveled in the prolonged foreplay. His kisses and caresses always thrilled her to her very core. When Warwick made love to her, he made her feel beautiful and special and her body responded to his every touch. After an hour of lovemaking, they spent together and Jory stretched languidly with satisfaction.

Guy's arms came about her again and pulled her against his body. She was surprised to feel his hard erection against her belly. "You are extremely amorous and possessive tonight, my darling. What stirs such deep passion?"

Suddenly, Jory went very still.

"You are leaving me! You are returning to Wales with Mortimer to fight the Despencers."

"I am." His deep voice was implacable. "My dearest love, I have no choice. The barons have pledged to stand together."

Jory's heart contracted. What if it's civil war? It could be a fight to the death! She took a deep breath and masked her fear. "Of course you must go. Mortimer could not have a stronger ally."

Wolf Mortimer sat on the edge of the bed, the pair of dice held loosely in his hand. He conjured a picture of Brianna de Beauchamp in his mind and concentrated upon it until it came into sharp focus. Then he freed his thoughts to seek out her chamber so that he could enter and observe her with his inner eye.

He smiled in the darkness as he watched her ready herself for bed. When she removed her shift and revealed a pair of firm, high breasts, a wave of pleasure washed over him. When she donned a night rail that concealed her nakedness and covered her long slim legs, he experienced a moment of disappointment.

The young beauty stepped before a mirror and began to brush her lovely red-gold hair and his enjoyment returned. He watched her lay the brush down and approach the bed. To his surprise she did not pull back the covers, but sank down onto her knees. He heard her voice, earnest and contrite.

"It was wrong of me to call the wolf wretched. I did not mean it. I truly love all animals. She is a beautiful creature." Brianna whispered the wolf's name with reverence. "Shadow."

Wolf glanced down at the silver wolf that lay at his feet. "She is thinking of you and speaks your name. Go to her."

The animal arose and padded to the door. Wolf Mortimer, silent as the night, followed her.

The next morning, Brianna was awakened by Mary. "Are you all right, lovey? You're usually up and about at this hour."

"I feel fine, Mary." Brianna threw back the covers and got out of bed. "I had the strangest dream. Some great wild beast—I think it was a lion—threatened the safety of everyone here at Warwick, so Father and Guy Thomas went off to hunt it. A dark angel came to me and enfolded me in his wings to protect me. I felt safe and warm and had no fear, even when the beast approached. The dark angel turned into a wolf and savaged the lion. Then it lay down beside me to guard me until I awoke."

"That's simple enough to interpret. The threat of the lion is the king, and your father is preparing to leave for the Marches."

"Preparing to leave? I had no idea!" Brianna dressed immediately, dragged the brush through her tangled curls, and tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

"What's this?" Mary picked up a small silver disk that lay amongst the covers and handed it to her.

Brianna examined the small object that looked like a medallion from a dog's collar. She turned it over and saw it was inscribed with a name. "Shadow," she whispered, as fragments of her ethereal dream scattered and moved just beyond her recollection.

Brianna hurried to the Great Hall where she found her mother conversing with their castle steward, Mr. Burke. "Is it true? Is Father returning with Roger Mortimer to the Welsh Border country?"

"Yes, my dear. He's readying the men-at-arms now. We need not worry; he will leave a strong guard to protect Warwick. When they are ready to depart, we will see them off together."

Brianna noticed that her mother was unusually pale this morning, yet she gave no hint that she was the least bit troubled. "You have so much courage. I promise to put on a brave face when Father leaves."

Guy Thomas came rushing into the hall, unable to hide his excitement. "Father says I may go too!"

Brianna saw her mother's face blanch at her son's words.

Jory opened her mouth and closed it again while she gathered her thoughts that had been thrown into sudden disarray. She composed herself quickly. "I'll come and help you pack the things you will need."

He squirmed. "Please…I'm going on a man's mission, I don't need my mother to hold my hand."

Mr. Burke cut in smoothly, "I will advise you on what to take. We must make haste, you don't want to hold up the other men."

Jory looked at her daughter. "He's fourteen."

Brianna sought for strengthening words. "Roger Mortimer was wed at fourteen, and a father at fifteen."

"I suppose Warwick was that age too when he wed the first time. Why do they rush headlong into manhood? Why can they not wait?"

"The same reason we cannot wait to become women."

Jory's smile was tremulous. "Real women wear their best gowns and jewels and hold their heads up proudly when their men depart. It gives a lasting impression that we believe they are invincible, that they will win every battle and return home victorious."

Brianna spied Lincoln Robert and his brother, Jamie, who were carrying out their packed saddlebags. She hurried to their side, her heart in her mouth. "Are you riding to the Welsh Borders?"

"Unfortunately, no—I'd give anything to go with them. Father has promised to send troops, so we are returning to Hedingham," Lincoln said ruefully. He smiled down at her. "However, it pleases me beyond measure that you are concerned for my safety."

Brianna felt relief, though she understood Lincoln's regret. Like all young males he was eager to prove his manhood in armed conflict. "I'm sorry you are leaving. I shall miss you." Impulsively she hugged him. "Take good care of yourself. You too, Jamie. Say hello to Aunt Jane for me."

Two hours later, mother and daughter, gowned in velvet and fur capes, with emeralds glittering at their throats, stood proudly in the courtyard as the mounted men cantered by. The Warwick banners, each displaying a golden bear against a field of black, fluttered bravely in the stiff breeze. The de Beauchamp ladies raised their hands and waved as the Infamous Warwick, with his son at his side, departed.

How could I have doubted your love for me? May God keep you both safe and return you to us with all speed. The feeling of deep pride for the great courage they displayed helped to ease some of Brianna's apprehension. She had had a private good-bye with her father earlier, as had her mother. This public good-bye was for all the men.

Following the Warwick men-at-arms, Roger Mortimer, flanked by his sons, rode by and gallantly saluted the ladies.

Wolf Mortimer, his helmet tucked beneath his arm, his black hair streaming in the breeze, caught and held Brianna's gaze. His challenging gray eyes held a promise that this would not be the last time they would meet.

Brianna was clutching the small silver medallion so tightly, it felt as if it were burning a hole in her palm. She sent up a silent prayer: Please keep his wolf safe.