"Perhaps," Isabelle agreed, "but I nonetheless want you to keep a sharp eye out. Make friends with the serving wenches. Servants always see what they should not," she concluded with a chuckle, and they both grinned at her knowingly.

Now Isabelle deliberately set out to make friends with her lover's sister. She dared not be obvious, but she knew that if she could get close to Vivienne, she was more than likely to learn her secrets. Then one evening an opportunity came. Vivienne was complaining that the winter cold was dulling the sheen of her raven-black hair.

"Have you tried rinsing it with apple cider vinegar?" Belle asked the older woman. "I am told it is excellent for restoring a dark hair's shine, or so my mother, who was skilled in herbs and household remedies, always said. Lemon is good for lighter hair."

"Apple cider vinegar? I never heard of using it for that purpose, but it certainly cannot hurt to try," Vivienne said thoughtfully. "If you are wrong, though, I shall have you hung here in the hall to be whipped like any common miscreant. Do not think that because you are my brother's leman I cannot do it. I am the mistress of La Citadelle."

"Lady, I would do you no intentional harm. If you would like it, I will wash your hair myself," Isabelle murmured sweetly.

Vivienne d' Bretagne thought for but a moment, and then she said, "Yes, I should like you to attend to my hair, Belle. If you are clever, and you please me, I shall give you a place serving me one day when you no longer amuse my brother."

"That day shall not come, sister," Guy said quietly. "From this day on I will take Belle as my wife. If she attends to your hair, Vivi, it will be for love of us both, not because she is your servant."

If Isabelle was astounded by his words, Vivienne d' Bretagne was even more so. "You would take her to wife, Guy? Why? Does she know that you cannot give her a child? Have you told her of the curse upon us? No d' Bretagne male has ever taken an outsider for a wife."

"Why should I not?" he rejoined. "Under the circumstances, what difference does it make, Vivi? I love this girl. I do not ever wish to be parted from her. If I cannot give her a child, at least I can honor her with our name, such as it is. She is too fine to remain merely my leman."

"My lord ..." Belle touched his arm and looked up into his face. "I would cause no riff between you and the sister you have always loved. Whatever place you desire to assign me within your sphere, I am content to accept it."

"There can be no priest to say the words here, Belle, but I acknowledge you to be my wife from this time forward," Guy said quietly. "If my sister loves me as I have always loved her, she will accept this."

"And what of our plan?" Vivienne whispered desperately in a tongue the others in the hall could not comprehend.

Guy caressed her cheek, answering her in the same ancient Breton language, "It will be fulfilled as we desire it, petite soeur. What is more, you and I shall share in it. Trust me. I have never failed you yet, Vivi, but I want this girl to wife."

"So be it then," Vivienne d' Bretagne said, returning to the modern idiom. "If it will truly make you happy, Guy, how can I deny you?" She turned to Belle. "I welcome you as my brother's wife," she said softly. "You are now my sister, Belle."

"Sisters help one another," Belle replied. "I shall still wash your hair and help restore its shine for you."

How strangely fate had played into her hands, Isabelle thought gratefully. She sipped automatically from the cup Guy held to her lips.

"Where are you wandering?" he asked her playfully.

She focused her green-gold eyes upon him. She must not betray herself when she was closer than she had ever been to her goal. "I am marveling that with a few words you can make me your wife," she admitted honestly. "Why can you not give me a child?" She had frankly been amazed that in all the months she had been with him, she had not conceived.

"One of my ancestors managed to get us cursed by an angry parent," he said lightly. "For centuries the men of my line have been unable to reproduce, which is why the women rule at La Citadelle. Will you love me less for it, Belle?"

"Of course not," she told him, secretly relieved. When Hugh's memory was restored, he would surely forgive her her liaison with Guy d' Bretagne, but had she borne her lover a child, how could Hugh ever forget her infidelity whilst the evidence of it grew up in his house? It would have been absolutely impossible for them both, and for the poor, innocent child. It was so much better this way.

"I have a special way to celebrate our union," Guy said, nibbling suggestively upon her ear. "It is most delicious in a variety of ways."

"You know that I am yours to command, my lord," she murmured.

His violet eyes glittered. "You are surprisingly brave for a woman," he said.

"You are very naughty, my lord," Belle teased him dangerously. Her pointed little tongue ran across her lips.

"Tonight I shall teach you how to be very, very bad," he responded.

Her heart hammered. At the other end of the table sat her lawful husband, lost to himself, and perhaps even lost to her, but she had not yet really tried to free him. How easy, she realized with horror, it would be to give up, to remain here at La Citadelle as Guy's wife. But could she forget Langston? What of Hugh the Younger?

It was the one thing that kept her focused upon what she had to do. Their little son must not grow up without his father. And what of the other children they hoped to have? Children who would go unborn if she could not bring Hugh home. If they could not escape La Citadelle.

"Come!" Guy's voice was imperious. Taking her hand in his, he led her from the high board. "While you daydreamed, I gave certain orders," he said meaningfully. "I have spent many weeks teaching you the delights of your pleasure. Tonight I shall teach you how to pleasure me in a way such as you cannot imagine."

"Your creativity has always amazed me, my lord," Isabelle answered him, smiling. "I am intrigued as to what you have in store for us, but I have no doubt we shall both be pleasured by it."

In his apartments, Guy undressed her, and then she undressed him. They bathed together, returning naked to their bedchamber. He had a beautiful body that, while hirsute and unlike Hugh's, was graceful and finely made. Though very tall, his torso and limbs were in perfect proportion. She thought it sad that he would have no son of his own. Any children he sired would surely have been beautiful to behold.

In the alcove where he liked to play his special games, a silver bowl had been placed upon a table. Peering into it, she could see it was filled with an extraordinarily thick, creamy golden substance. Next to the bowl was a long brush with a silver handle. Guy lit the sweetly scented oil lamps he enjoyed on special occasions. The scent of aloe filled the room. He held out his hand to her.

"What is in the bowl?" she asked him.

"In time I will reveal its contents to you," he said, and then, "Have you ever taken a man's member between your lips, Belle?"

"No," she said, eyes wide. But then, why not? she thought. Did he not taste of her each time they made love? Why should she not taste of him as well? She slipped to her knees before him at the gentle pressure of his hands on her shoulders. His groin was smooth and white, devoid of the dark hair that covered his chest, arms, and legs. A curly growth but hid the glory of one's sex, he had told her when she had first remarked upon it.

Reaching down with his hand, he lifted the limp flesh and rubbed it across her lips. "Open your mouth, Belle, and take it in, my precious. Be careful not to score it with your teeth. Then you may suckle upon it and use your tongue to tease it," he instructed her.

Following his directions, she was enchanted to find the member growing within the confines of her mouth. It grew so swiftly that she could scarcely contain it, and choked just slightly. With his hand on her fiery head he encouraged her further. She was becoming very aroused by her actions, and dizzy with the pleasure she was obtaining.

Finally he said softly, "Cease, Belle," and when she opened her mouth, he withdrew his member, now enormous and fully engorged. He smiled down at her, pleased to see the rising desire in her green-gold eyes, knowing she had enjoyed the task. "Now," he continued, "place the bowl upon the floor near you, Belle, and using the brush, paint first my rod and then my jewels with the substance."

Fascinated, she obeyed him, lavishly spreading the thick, pale gold substance up and down his manhood. And then she painted his jewels as he had ordered her. Finished, she put the brush aside on the edge of the bowl and awaited his instructions.

"Now," he said, "using your mouth and tongue, wash it all off, my beauty. Every speck, for if I feel the least stickiness when you are done, you will receive six strokes of my strap, my pet."

Kneeling before him, she began to lick at his swollen member. Honey! There was honey in the mixture she had painted upon him. "Ummmmm," she murmured, "delicious, my lord!" She licked and suckled his manhood, her hot tongue moving quickly up and down its length, laving the flesh free of the syrupy matter until there was no more. She could feel a heavy wetness between her legs, and realized how fiercely aroused she was. Twisting her body, she bent very low, gently taking his jewels into her mouth to suck them free of the honey. The more her mouth worked him, the more excited she herself became. He said nothing while she attended to him, but his labored breathing was audible.

"Enough!" he finally groaned. "Enough, you vixen!" He forced her up, and lifting her into his arms, impaled her upon his raging member.

Belle wrapped her legs about her lover, sobbing with her own desire as he carried her across the room to their bed. Laying her back upon the coverlet, he stood above her, plunging himself in and out, in and out, until she was screaming with a pleasure she would not have believed existed. She felt as if she were going to die, and it mattered not a bit to her. Her breath was labored as she reached peak after peak after peak. The familiar starburst exploded behind her eyes, but this time in such a profusion of colors that she could not bear it. She felt his tribute thundering into her, and almost immediately afterward lost consciousness.

Her awareness returned with the feeling of his tongue on her torso, licking delicately. Belle forced her eyes open and watched as he painted her belly with the honey paste and then sensuously lapped it off her skin. "It is too delicious," she murmured. "Too delicious to bear, and if you stop, I shall die, my lord!"

"You like this little game," he said innocently.

"It is even better than the grapes," she assured him.

"Yes," he laughed low, "I noticed how much you enjoyed it, Belle. There was a moment or two there when I thought you meant to swallow me whole, my precious. You left me no excuse to beat you." He licked the last of the sweetness off her skin and laid his dark head upon her belly. "You have the body of an ancient goddess," he told her. "What a pity we cannot have a child together. Especially now."

"Why now?" she wondered aloud.

"When our ancestor was cursed," Guy told her, "the curse was not simply upon the males of the family. It was also upon the females. The story is that the noblewoman cursing the d' Bretagnes first laid her malediction upon my ancestor Jean and all those males who might follow him. Then, as an afterthought, she damned the female line, too, but that curse would not come immediately. She wanted the family to suffer as they had made her suffer. The women of the family would be forced to take lovers to procreate their line, but one day a woman would be born to the d' Bretagnes who would not be able to reproduce our line, and it would end altogether. My sister, Vivienne, seems to be that woman. She has taken lover after lover since she was a nubile girl, but not once has she quickened with a child."

"What has happened to her other lovers?" Belle asked.

"She has dismissed them, of course, when she realized they could not give her what she most desired-a child," he said.

"And will she dismiss her Hugh?"

"Nay, she has fallen in love with him, even as I have fallen in love with you. She will keep him by her side," Guy said.

"Who is he? Where did he come from?" Belle caressed her lover's dark locks.

"I know little about him," Guy answered honestly. "He is English, I believe. Vivienne has a liegeman, a great fool named Richard de Manneville. This man was in de Manneville's dungeon for some reason, and he wished to be rid of him. De Manneville was too cowardly to kill him. Vivienne saw Hugh, and despite his filthy state at the time, she decided she wanted him. She took him, the falconer Alain, and six men-at-arms who accompanied them, and brought them back to La Citadelle."

"He must love your sister, else he certainly would have tried to return to his own land," Belle noted.

"He has virtually no memory of his past life," Guy told her. "The falconer told Vivi that his master received a blow on the head. Then, too, my sister, I suspect, keeps his memory from returning by means of some little potion she mixes up. If she is happy, it matters not to me. Hugh is no more than a simple knight, or else his family would have come seeking after him. Besides, anyone doing business with Richard de Manneville was surely unimportant." He pulled himself up and began kissing her.

She forced herself to respond to his ardent embraces. There was so much more she wanted to know, but she dared not press him further.

In the morning, when Isabelle went to the mews, she asked Alain, "Why did you not tell Vivienne d' Bretagne that your master was Hugh Fauconier of Langston Keep, a companion to King Henry? Had you spoken up, we might all be home, and none of this would have happened."

"You were not there, lady," Alain said. "I was. The moment she laid eyes upon him, she was in love. Was I to tell a sorceress that she could not have the man she desired? That he was a married man with a child? She would have killed me, and then who would have taken care of him in those early days?"

"But could not you or one of the Langston men have fled this place, and returned home to tell me what had happened? We waited for months for word. Then I went up to court to ask the king's help, only to find myself a victim of his salacious seduction!" Isabelle paced nervously back and forth in the mews, which was their only place of privacy. "Well, it matters not now."

"What will you do, lady, if you cannot restore his memory?" Lind asked her. Lind might be a quiet fellow, but he always came directly to the point.

"I do not know," Isabelle told them, and turning abruptly, left the mews. What would she do? She loved Hugh, and she wanted their simple old life at Langston restored to them. Yet would she ever be happy again with her good Hugh, having known Guy? Guy who, despite his deception, was dark and complicated, and showered her with a passion such as she had never known. But deep in her heart she knew what had to be done.

Vivienne's serving woman came to Isabelle and said that her mistress wished to see her. "Go and fetch me an egg and a small pitcher of apple cider vinegar," she told the servant. "I can find my way to your mistress's quarters. It is the south tower, is it not?"

"Yes, lady," the woman said.

She found the mistress of La Citadelle lying in her lover's arms, clad only in her long skirts. Hugh absently played with Vivienne's breasts, his eyes flicking to acknowledge Belle's entry, but he said nothing. "I have sent your woman for what I shall need," Belle said.

"I hope this works," Vivienne d' Bretagne said petulantly. Then, "What is this magic spell you have cast over my brother?"

Isabelle laughed mockingly. "There is no spell, unless you believe that love is magical, lady. If my lord Guy is content with me, would you seek to deny his happiness?"

"I sense you are a threat to me," Vivienne said honestly.

Isabelle almost shivered, but she did not. "I am no danger to those I love, lady," she replied evenly. Then she smiled. "Can we not be friends, lady?"

"I have no friends," Vivienne d' Bretagne said.

"Ahh," Belle answered, "here is your woman with the vinegar."

Water was brought, and a fine gold basin. Using a soap fragrant with lilies, Isabelle washed Vivienne d' Bretagne's hair. It was very dirty, and Isabelle was not in the least surprised that the hair had lost its sheen.

"What!" Vivienne cried. "You are washing it again?"

"The first time was for the dirt, lady. The second is to restore its shine," Isabelle said, cracking the egg the serving woman had brought her. She mixed it with a bit of the soap and scrubbed it into the woman's head vigorously.

"I smell egg!" Vivienne said, and her serving woman giggled.

"Indeed you do, lady. It's in your hair right now, but if you will be patient," Belle replied sweetly, "I will soon have it washed out. Egg is very good for the hair."

"Your old mother's remedy, I have not a doubt," Vivienne replied sarcastically. "I do not care if my brother declares you his wife, if this does not work, I will see that you suffer!"

"Pour the vinegar into the large pitcher of warm water," Belle said calmly to the serving woman. "Mix it with your hand. That's good." She rinsed Vivienne's hair first with clear water, then the vinegar, and then with clear water again. "I am done," she told the servant. "Towel your mistress's hair dry with vigor to stimulate it, and then brush it put till all the water is gone. Then rub it with a length of silk. The shine should be restored." Then, without another word, Isabelle departed Vivienne d' Bretagne's chambers, a small smile upon her lips.

"I did not say she could go!" Vivienne said waspishly.

"Nonetheless, cherie, she has," Hugh murmured. "She is a most independent creature, isn't she? I can see why your brother enjoys her. She reminds me of someone, but of course, I cannot remember." He laughed. "It doesn't matter though, Vivi, does it?"

"I sense she is a danger to us," Vivienne persisted.

"Are you fearful she is a sorceress like yourself, and perhaps with stronger magic than you possess?" he teased her.

"She speaks of love, and her face lights up," Vivienne d' Bretagne said. "There is no such thing as love, Hugh. There is lust, and passion, and hate, but love? It does not exist!"

"Of course it exists, Vivi," Hugh said. "Love is the sun to hate's moon, cherie. You feel it for me, else I should not still be in your good graces, and would have gone the way of all of your previous lovers." He bent to kiss her damp shoulder. "I think the problem is that you are jealous Guy has found a small measure of happiness that is not connected with you. I know how deeply you care for your brother."

"If she should harm him ..." Vivienne warned.

Hugh laughed. "Vivienne, when will you realize that Guy is far stronger than you have ever been, or will ever be? Because this family of yours is a matriarchy, you naturally assume you are the stronger, but my pet, you are not." He kissed her pouting mouth. "Now cease your fretting over the girl, Belle."

The winter progressed slowly. The sea rumbled noisily beneath the castle, sending fingers of icy green water into the caves below. They had days that were cold, cloudless, and blazingly sunny, but more often than not the days were gray, dank, and mist-filled. On the good days, Isabelle would go with her falconers into the fields above the sea and exercise the birds, who chafed from too many days of confinement in their mews. Isabelle loved watching Couper soar on the whorls of the wind.

"If we had wings, we could fly home to Langston," she said to her falconers one bright day. In her enthusiasm she had forgotten that Hugh was with them. Alain and Lind looked nervously at her.

"Where is Langston?" Hugh asked her.

"It is a place in England we once knew, Lind, Alain, and I," she said, knowing he would ask no more, for he really wasn't interested. "My lord Guy says that you lost the memory of your past before you came to La Citadelle. Is it true that you remember nothing? Not a wife, or family? Naught?"

For a moment he looked at her curiously, and Isabelle's heart leapt in her chest, but then he said, "Sometimes I see images in my head, but they come and go so quickly that I cannot retain anything. You must not tell Vivi that, however. It will frighten her."

"What kind of images?" Belle gently pressed him.

"Mostly it is of the falcons, which is why Vivienne keeps them for me," he said slowly, "but sometimes I see a stone tower, and a river. At other times I see the phantoms of people, but I cannot see their faces." He smiled gently, for the first time looking like the Hugh of old. Her Hugh. "I cannot, Belle, have been a man of any importance, else someone would have come after me. Ahhh, look at your merlin! How she soars, the pretty little devil!"

Afterward, Isabelle said to her falconers, "Do not tell me that he cannot be coaxed into regaining his memory, for I believe he can! We must help him, and I must learn what it is she feeds him to prevent his recovery."

"I've made friends with one of the young serving women in her chamber, a maid named Jeanne," Lind said. "Jeanne says that each morning before lord Hugh is allowed from his bed, he is brought a small silver cup with what Jeanne says is a strengthening potion so that Lord Hugh will not lose his virility, for Lady Vivienne is insatiable in her appetite for passion," the falconer finished with a deep blush.

"That must be it!" Isabelle cried. "Lind, Jeanne must find out what is in that cup. Tell her you want it so you will be potent with her. There is no other way I can learn what we must know."

"Even if you discover what is in the cup," the practical Alain reminded her, "how can you prevent her from feeding it to him?"

"I do not know," Belle said, "but I will find a way! Have we not come a great way already, my lads? We cannot fail now!"

"I will see what I can do," Lind said, "but remember, lady, I must move slowly with the maid lest I arouse her suspicions. I will have to begin to court her in earnest so she will tell me her mistress's secrets." He sighed. "You will not tell Agneatha when we get home, lady, will you? She will not like it at all."