"You'd best let me deal with him," Lilliane interrupted. "We can't know what revenge he might take against those who aid me."

At that William quickly stepped back from the embrasure. "'Tis unlikely he'll be in a position to take any revenge." But he sounded more sullen than boastful.

"He is still well favored by Edward," Lilliane murmured uneasily. She watched the second rider reach Corbett's side. "We can only hope that King Edward will not condone such a foul crime as murder."

After conferring briefly with Corbett, the other rider departed as quickly as he'd come. To rally the trailing knights, Lilliane suspected. Her heart was fast sinking as she stared at her husband, so composed as he still sat his steed at the abrupt end of the road. As his silence continued her nerves seemed to stretch almost to breaking. Then his eyes swept the crenellated battlements until they found her.

Lilliane swallowed convulsively as his eyes locked with hers. She thought she'd remembered the force of that stare and the strength of will behind it. But her memories paled next to the reality of it. Then he addressed her and it was as if no one was there but the two of them.

"Lower the bridge, Lily," he ordered.

A hush settled over the entire castle as he awaited her response.

"Orrick is closed to you. Go away." Although her voice rang out clearly, she trembled from head to foot.

"Orrick is mine by dint of marriage to you. Do you forget so quickly that we are man and wife?"

At that arrogant reminder her composure fled. "I forget nothing! Most especially I do not forget the murder of my father!"

When he seemed taken aback by her accusation, she was even more incensed. "Are you so surprised then that we found you out? Have you nothing to say for yourself?" she snapped sarcastically. "At the least I expected a very clever profession of innocence."

Corbett's dark-gray stare had not wavered from her at all. When he spoke his very calmness disturbed her even more. "This is a subject better discussed in private, Lily. Your father particularly understood such matters."

"My father is dead at the hand of your hireling!" she cried, sobbing. "You're the only one to gain from that!"

"His death gained me nothing that I did not already have. Most certainly I would not leave my man to do such a task. Had I wanted him dead, it would have been done by my own hand!"

"Liar! Liar!" she screamed.

"Come away, Lilliane." William placed an arm protectively around her. "You need not deal with him any longer."

Corbett did not outwardly appear to react to William's unexpected presence, nor to his solicitous handling of Lilliane. But she sensed his fury at once. Like an impending storm, it filled the air between them with a crackling intensity. She shook William's arm off with a nervous gesture then turned to cast some final accusing remark at her tensed husband.

It was then that she saw the rest of his men approaching. Spread out like a fan across the meadow, they herded the hapless villagers before them. Slowly but relentlessly they forced the villagers into a large cl.u.s.ter just beyond Corbett. Although he did not turn to view the deed, Lilliane knew he was sure of what was happening. She was certain it had been his idea, and he trusted his men to see his every whim carried out.

"What-what is it you plan to do?" Lilliane asked fearfully, her voice thin in the silence that gripped the castle.

His eyes were steady upon her and she imagined she saw a bitter smile twist his lips. "I plan to enter Orrick, have a bath, and eat an excellent meal." He paused. "Lower the bridge, Lily."

There was a terrible silence.

"And if I do not?" Her voice trembled despite her every effort to sound calm.

His face grew harder. Then he turned to face the tightly bunched villagers. "Whosoever of you is oldest, step forward now."

There were murmurs and much shuffling among the poor group. Then two slight forms separated from the rest and Lilliane cried out in horror. Thomas had finally returned from his journey to visit his son, but at what a terrible time. And he was joined by Mother Grendella!

"What are you doing?" Lilliane called down, truly frightened now.

"I'm not doing anything. Yet." Corbett smiled grimly up at her. "The next move is yours, my lady wife."

It was Lilliane's first inclination to seek her father out. But with the fresh realization that she could never do that again, a new and terrible fear swept over her. Corbett of Colchester sat before her, mocking her poor attempt at opposing him, and she knew she could do nothing about it. He held the lives of Thomas and Grendella and so many others as a threat before her. Her wide frightened eyes met his again and she sought desperately to find some c.h.i.n.k in his hard demeanor, some sign of compa.s.sion in his fierce expression. This was the same man who had been so tender to her. But he was also the man everyone called the king's Bird of Prey. He was a harsh, brutal knight, and he was determined to best her.

A sob caught in her throat as she broke away from his intense stare. But William blocked her path.

"Don't give in to him, Lilliane." He gripped her shoulders.

"And then what? Watch as he slaughters my people?"

"He'll do it anyway. If you let him in, what's to stop him from doing anything he wants?"

Lilliane backed out of William's grasp. Her amber eyes were damp with tears. "I can't believe he would go that far. They're just innocent villagers. He has no quarrel with them-"

"Was your father guilty of anything? No! But he died anyway! Do you truly believe Colchester places any value on a handful of pitiful old villagers?"

"He may not. You are right in that. But I value them. And I'll not see them slaughtered. Not now. Not ever." With that she lifted her skirts and hurried out of the gatehouse toward the captain of the guard.

By the time the bridge was down, Lilliane was in the bailey. She stood alone, waiting for Corbett's entrance. What would follow she did not know. But she had instructed the guards to stand well back and offer no symbol of opposition. It was her last hope that her husband would take no reprisals against anyone but herself. And she was prepared to endure those reprisals, no matter what they were. She would endure and some day, in some manner, she would have revenge on him for his mounting list of crimes against Orrick.

There was an unearthly quiet in the bailey. Only a capricious wind that tugged at her heavy caddis skirt and neatly coiffed hair interrupted the stillness. When Corbett entered the castle, his men close upon his heels, Lilliane was reminded of his first arrival at Orrick. Like then, the entire populace was intimidated by the powerful knight and his arrogant manner.

But Lilliane's apprehension of that other day was as nothing compared to this deep-seated dread. If he'd seemed fierce and brawny then, he appeared absolutely invincible now.

He rode his destrier straight toward her. It seemed every last person in the bailey caught his breath in antic.i.p.ation and dread. Given a choice of feeling fear or anger, Lilliane much preferred the latter. But she could not prevent a shiver of fear snaking down her spine as she raised furious eyes to him. As was so often his wont, he did not speak at once. In the uncomfortable silence his eyes swept over her. Unwillingly her own gaze roamed him, noting his dusty, travel-worn appearance and the ill-disguised weariness in his face. But his eyes, gray as granite, were sharp and as discerning as ever. For a moment they darkened, and she thought she saw a smoldering light deep within their hooded recesses. Then his lips lifted in a chilling smile.

"I want a bath and a meal. Also, see to my men's needs." He shifted his weight and the leather saddle creaked beneath him. "And heed this warning, my sweet wife. You have been nothing but trouble so far. You'd best consider proving your value as a wife."

"Or what?" Lilliane challenged, but in little more than a whisper. "Shall you be as easily rid of me as you were of my father?"

He straightened up at that, but his scar darkened as he frowned. "See to your duties," he ordered curtly as he turned his steed from her. "Then return to our chamber and await me there."

It was worse than if he had punished her outright. She did not dare cross him, for she feared his vengeance if not against her, then most surely against her people. Yet to meekly submit to his selfish orders was galling indeed.

As she hurried about her tasks, ordering the water heated for the tubs and food prepared for the table, her emotions veered between overwhelming anger and a sinking desperation. Her efforts had been for nothing. Her father was still dead and Corbett had control of Orrick, just as he'd planned from the beginning.

There was no conversation in the kitchen as she made a cursory check of the trays of cold sliced meats and the baskets of breads. Two men pulled the creaking ale cart behind them as the silent column of servants made their way to the great hall.

But Lilliane refused to follow them into the hall. That she just could not do. Using a narrow back stair, she made her way up the musty pa.s.sage to the tower room, there to await the wrath of her husband. She did not doubt his fury, for all his well-contained appearance. Still, at least Thomas and the others were safe, she thought. William was the only other person she feared might taste Corbett's vengeance. If only he had not lingered here, she fretted. But although Verone fared a little better, there could be no moving her until well after the birth of the babe. Lilliane paced the room nervously. If Corbett punished William, it might have dire effects on Verone's frail health. And there was the babe to consider as well.

The minutes stretched interminably. The room grew dim but Lilliane could not muster enough interest to light a torch or even a candle. Too many worrisome thoughts circled in her head.

What would her punishment be? Would Corbett seek to hurt William or any others? But overriding that still was the question of her father's death. Was Corbett capable of such a foul deed? At times she was certain of it. But at other times ...

She shook her head hard. Who else could it be? If he was guilty, then it was her duty to avenge the crime. But how could she know for sure when he so adamantly denied it?

She was so caught up in her troubled thoughts that she did not hear the approaching footsteps. When the door to her chamber opened, however, she whirled quickly from her place before the fire.

In the doorway Corbett stood, a great, towering shadow. Her heart lurched in her chest as she stared at her husband. He had bathed and changed into fresh clothes; his hair was still damp and slicked back from his face. The meager glow from the fire in the hearth cast dancing golden lights over his harsh profile.

Lilliane's breath quickened as he stood there unmoving, only watching her with his dark, inscrutable stare. Uncomfortable with his unwavering silence, she clasped her fingers tightly together and lifted her chin bravely. His lips curled sardonically at her show of bravado. With a slow, sure move he stepped further into the room and closed the door securely behind him.

"Come attend me, wife," he ordered as he tossed his leather satchel onto the trunk. "Show me your wifely concern. I confess I've found it sorely lacking thus far."

She bristled at the sarcasm that edged his voice. "I've no wifely concerns for you at all."

Lilliane knew she risked much with her defiance, but she was unable to do anything else. She hated him. She would always hate him. She would never cease trying to be rid of him: Although his jaw tightened at her words and his scarred brow lowered in a scowl, Corbett did not respond at once. Instead he crossed to a chair and sat down. "I will tell you this one time, Lilliane. Only once. You may believe it or not. 'Tis your own choice." He paused and pulled off his boots. Then he looked at her sharply. "I did not have your father killed."

He stared at her hard as if to gauge her reaction.

Then he drew his tunic over his head. "I have questioned Dunn and all the rest of my men. I am convinced there was no foul play in Lord Barton's death. Furthermore, your father's own man-the old one-tells me his master suffered greatly with a rot in his gut. He knew his days on this earth were numbered." One corner of his mouth turned up ironically. "He says it was for that reason that he consented so quickly to our marriage."

Lilliane stared at him in stunned silence as he tugged his shirt off over his head.

"I don't believe you," she whispered. She was taken aback by his last words, and her thoughts could not rally to contradict his preposterous statement. Her father had been perfectly well. In fact, he'd been better than ever since the wedding ceremony.

"Thomas wouldn't lie-" She faltered when he stood up. "You must have forced him to say such a thing." She backed away from his steady approach, still trying to make some sense of it all.

"You may question him yourself on the morrow, Lily. Right now he is drowning his own sorrow in ale."

Lilliane shook her head in stubborn refusal. "It is not as you say! You had every reason to kill my father."

"I had no reason at all."

"You hated him," she accused in a voice shrill and unnatural. She felt the sting of tears but could not fight them off. "You wanted revenge for your father's death and now you have it. You planned this from the very beginning!"

Corbett's jaw tensed at this, and even through her tear-blurred eyes she saw his scarred brow lower in a frown.

"d.a.m.n it, woman! Even had I plotted his death, poisoning is not my way, I am a knight of no little pride. I meet a man squarely in battle."

She clenched her eyes shut and turned away from him. She did not want to hear his words. She did not want to credit him with any honor whatsoever, yet she could not deny that what he said bore some remnants of truth. He would not resort to poison. He would no doubt easily thrust his wicked blade cleanly through a man's chest, but he would stare his victim in the face as he did so.

That admission let loose a flood of emotions-all her repressed sorrow for her father and a terribly confusing relief that perhaps Corbett was not a murderer after all. But then why had her father died? Was it merely as Thomas had said, an ailment he'd kept concealed from them all? A sob caught in her throat and she buried her face in her hands.

At once she felt Corbett's grasp on her shoulders and his strong arms encircling her. "Hush now," he murmured as he held her awkwardly. "Don't cry, Lily. Don't cry."

But that only made her cry harder. Terrible wracking sobs tore through her as he held her close. It had been so hard, these days since she'd buried her father. She'd been strong and made the decisions that needed to be made. But she could be strong no longer.

Lilliane could not say precisely how Corbett maneuvered them to a chair and then sat down with her in his lap. She might have been a pet or a child in his arms as he soothed and comforted her. His hands were gentle and his bare skin cool against her overheated cheeks. But as her storm of tears began slowly to subside, she knew his tender touch was nonetheless that of a man upon a woman.

"'Tis a hard thing indeed to lose a parent." He spoke quietly.

"I've lost them both now. They're both gone."

"As are my parents." He paused and his fingers slid up her back to the soft nape of her neck. "You must learn to rely on me. I'm your husband. I'll see to your needs."

The low rumble of his voice was soothing to Lilliane's overwrought nerves, and for a weak moment she let her aching head rest against his shoulder. She was confused and upset, torn in two conflicting directions. Logic deemed that he was the cause of all her woes. And yet ...

She struggled against the lulling comfort of his gentle embrace and with the back of her hand wiped her tears away. "I must speak to Thomas. He and-"

"Tomorrow."

Lilliane peered warily at Corbett, suddenly discomfited by their intimate position. "I must see him tonight," she insisted. "If it is true-"

"It is true. Tomorrow will be soon enough to seek him out. He was well into his cups when I left him anyway."

Lilliane sighed sorrowfully. "Poor Thomas. He loved Father well." She turned her pale face toward the fire and stared sadly into the low, flickering flames. For days she had been caught up in the frenzy of preparing the castle against Corbett. It had been more difficult than anything she'd ever done before. But now she could see it had just been a way to avoid the aching emptiness her father's absence created. She had wasted two years away from him, and that made his loss even harder to bear.

"Thomas will be lost without him." She smiled wanly. "My father was a good man."

"I've no doubt he was a good father."

Lilliane sensed at once the meaning of Corbett's words. She turned her wide, dark-lashed eyes on him. "He was a good man," she insisted. "He had nothing to do with your father's death."

Corbett's jaw tensed at that and his fingers stilled their gentle circling upon her neck. She continued before he could speak. "He would not strike a man unaware, giving him no chance for defense. He lived by a code of honor, much as you say you do," she added.

For long seconds he did not reply as he considered her words. He only stared at her with eyes dark and smoky. Yet that steady, searching stare unsettled her more than any words might. She did not know if he believed her or not. She wasn't even sure whether she completely believed him. Still, her heart began to race in her chest as his eyes held hers captive.

Despite all the doubts, all the hatred between their families and the struggles between them, she could not quell the warmth his nearness stirred within her. Swift and urgent, it quivered up her spine with sudden awareness of each place their bodies touched.

He was harsh and ruthless, she told herself sternly. The king's Bird of Prey.

But it was useless. Like a live thing some spark crackled between them, and she knew he was as aware of it as she.

Then his hand moved to her head and he pulled the wooden hairpins from her carefully arranged hair. "Your welcome today left much to be desired."

"I was ... I was not eager to have you return," she admitted in a small voice.

"Nonetheless, I am here." He removed her fillet and wimple, and she felt her hair tumble free. "We have unfinished business to settle between us," he murmured against her hair, and she felt the damp heat of his breath against her temple.

Disturbed, Lilliane squirmed unconsciously upon his lap. But the press of his quick arousal against her bottom only fl.u.s.tered her further. As his hands found the laces at her waist, she mustered her wits as best she could.

"You-you have not said what repercussions there will be for what I have done today."

He paused in his sensual a.s.sault and looked at her with a faint, cynical curve to his lips. "I have taken the necessary steps to make sure the responsible parties are punished."

Lilliane's heart began to pound nervously. "But it was I. I'm the responsible one. William had nothing to do-"

"Don't speak to me of William." Corbett's eyes had turned hard. "He is confined, as is your captain of the guards. As for the others, all you need to know is that there will be no chance for insurrection again."

"No. Please don't harm them. They were only following my orders," she argued.

"They know now not to make that mistake again."

"But that's not fair to them, for they've not done anything wrong. Nor is it fair to make me appear no more than a servant in my own home."

"You're hardly a servant, Lily." To emphasize his point he slid his hand slowly along her thigh, but she slapped it away.

"What have you done to my guards?" she demanded angrily.