"You know how! As if ... as if ..." Lilliane floundered and she felt color stain her face.

"As if what? As if I could hardly believe my good fortune at finding my spinster bride to be the very maid who attended me today? As if I were heartily relieved to find my bride to be so fair of face?" He reached out a hand to touch her cheek but Lilliane jerked back to avoid him.

She sent him a quelling stare. "And if you had not ..." She struggled for words. "If you had not found me so fair of face, how quickly would you have begun dallying with the maidservants?"

"Jealous already?" He arched his scarred brow in a taunt. "If it's our earlier meeting you refer to, I don't see why you should fret. It was you, after all, who misled me."

"I misled you!" she hissed. "Why, if you hadn't-"

"If I hadn't come into my room when I did you would have had time to finish searching my belongings."

"It's ... it's ... it's not your room!" Lilliane sputtered.

"Oh, but it is," he contradicted her. "And as much as I did enjoy the bath, I still wonder what you thought to gain by disguising yourself so."

"It was no disguise-"

She stopped abruptly as a servant brought a platter of meats to them. She watched in simmering anger as Sir Corbett calmly selected cuts of roast capon, slivered eel, and grilled pork for them to share from a communal plate. From another servant's tray he added herring, raisins, and several cheeses. Then he poured a generous amount of an amber-hued wine into his goblet and offered it to her.

But Lilliane would have none of his mocking gallantry. Nor would she honor him by sharing a plate with him as was expected of a betrothed couple. She antic.i.p.ated an outburst from him; if the truth be known, she would have welcomed it, for she was utterly frustrated by the farce they played out before the company. But the objection to her obstinate behavior came not from Sir Corbett but from her father.

"Eat, daughter. Eat and do not shame your father or your bridegroom with such a temper! Would you have the gossips carry tales of your behavior?"

Beyond her father, Tullia and Santon looked on, their meal forgotten. But it was Odelia's satisfied expression that finally goaded Lilliane into acquiescence. She did not know why Odelia felt she must be so spiteful toward her, but it was quite apparent that both Aldis and she took delight in Lilliane's dissatisfaction with her marriage.

With the utmost care not to let her fingers touch Sir Corbett's, Lilliane selected the capon. But she took no pleasure in it, nor was she even aware of the cook's considerable efforts. Her enjoyment of the meal was spoiled completely by the overwhelming presence of the man at her elbow. Her stomach was knotted with anger and her mind raced with churning emotions. With every morsel of food he took from the well-filled plate, with his every expression of satisfaction with the elaborate repast, Lilliane's rage only intensified. It was all she could do to choke down the capon and maintain a reasonable expression.

Corbett did not speak to her during the meal, preferring, it seemed, to converse with her father. They spoke of the fields and the serfs, the hunting to be had in the surrounding forests, and the conditions of the castle's defenses. There was still a strain between the two men, a discomfort based on too many years of suspicions. But in spite of that the conversations flowed smoothly and the tension between them seemed to lessen.

As the two men relaxed under the spell of good food and ample wine, so did the rest of the company slowly revive their gay mood until the hall resounded with all the festivity expected with an approaching wedding.

But Lilliane's mood did not lift. How could she be lighthearted when her life was being ruined? she fumed. And then as if to insult her further, the big lummox was ignoring her as if she and her feelings were of no account at all. Indeed, it was quite clear that the two men had reached this agreement with absolutely no concern for her opinion.

It was only when the platters of fresh fruit and golden-baked pastries were brought out that Sir Corbett finally turned his attention back to her. She was fingering the empty goblet in agitation when he suddenly placed his large hand over hers. Lilliane was completely taken aback by this unexpected move. With a gasp she tried to pull free of his unwelcome touch, but his fingers only tightened more securely about hers.

Disturbed as much by the penetrating warmth of his grasp as by the presumption of his action, Lilliane turned a glittering glare upon him. "Release me at once, you wretch!" she hissed. "You dare much when-"

"It is expected that I should be drawn to you." He gave her a wicked grin and his scarred brow lifted devilishly. "I daresay your father will be ecstatic that I should be so overwhelmed by his 'Lily.'"

"Don't you call me that!"

"It is your name, isn't it? I'll concede that Lilliane better befits the heiress of Orrick. Lily bears more the ring of a sweet and simple young girl, one who might be servant to a n.o.ble lord." His eyes sparkled with amus.e.m.e.nt at her benefit. "I prefer Lily."

Lilliane was outraged. "Perhaps then you should select from among our many servants for a wife if that is what you seek. 'Tis certain it would not break my heart!"

"Ah, but it happens that I've an eye for a certain maid already. Perhaps you know of her?" Before she was aware of it he had slipped her fingers from the stem of the goblet and had deftly entwined them with his own. "She is sweet-faced, with a form soft and alluring. Yet she has a saucy way about her and a sharp tongue." He chuckled at her impotent anger. "She would not give me her name, and yet I feel sure I will eventually find her."

"Not if she can avoid you," Lilliane muttered as she struggled to free her hand.

Sir Corbett did not respond at once. When he did speak his voice held a warning note. "Both maid and lady as well as the demesne shall be mine. Never doubt that." He released her hand. "Whether you be willing or not matters nothing to me. You will do your duty as a daughter and a wife, as I shall do mine as a husband."

It was said with such conviction and finality that Lilliane's heart filled with dread. At that moment he was her enemy, pure and simple. And he was announcing his victory before the battle had even begun.

Lilliane could not reply. Worse, she felt the sting of foolish tears behind her eyes. Knowing only that she must get away from him, she abruptly rose from the table, nearly toppling her chair in her haste. She did not pause to excuse herself. Indeed, she feared that should she speak, shameful tears would overwhelm her.

As at her entrance, the great hall quieted at her leaving. She knew that speculation abounded and that the gossips would find her abrupt departure generous fodder for their mills. But she could not stay. She could not!

She should never have returned, she told herself as she mounted the stone stairs. She should have remained at Burgram Abbey and never returned to help with Tullia's wedding.

But what was done was done, she had to admit as she wiped her tear-dampened cheeks with the back of one hand. She had come and her father had decided to honor the betrothal. A heavy sigh caught in her throat and she slowed her frantic pace to catch her breath. The wall was cool and smooth against her flushed cheek as she leaned against it. It helped to clear her racing thoughts. She needed to think and to be away from the wedding furor that seemed to have taken hold of the entire castle. How she wished she could just leave and find a peaceful clearing in the forests to be alone in.

But she knew it would be useless for her to try to leave the castle. The guards would never grant her pa.s.sage alone at night. But neither did she wish to sit idle in her chamber, fretting and worrying.

Then she remembered the look-over. Above her parents' old chamber, the look-over was a small roof court, surrounded by battlements. At one time it had been the highest point of the castle. But a new section added to Orrick by her grandfather more than fifty years before had made the old Lord's Look-Over, as it had been called, unnecessary to castle security. As a child she had used it as a place to daydream or else to lick her wounds. Just as then, she knew it was precisely what she needed now.

Up the solid stone steps she went. Up, winding past her chamber, then past the tower room. She averted her eyes as she rushed past that particular door. Beyond it lay the chamber claimed by Sir Corbett, the room she was expected to share with him. With a grimace on her lips she hurried past that offending portal and up the last steep flight of stairs.

Lilliane was out of breath when she finally stepped into the cool night air. Autumn was upon the land and the crisp September weather raised goose b.u.mps on her arms and shoulders. But she did not care about that at all. Beyond her lay the lands of Orrick bathed only in the meager light of the waning moon. She could see the dark shapeless ma.s.s of the forests far to her right. Before her stretched the fields and meadows, silent and still. The village at the base of the long hill that led up to the castle was only a dark jumble of shadows, and yet Lilliane was comforted by what she saw.

It looked the same as it had ever been, and she hugged her arms tightly around her waist. Orrick Castle had survived over three hundred years. From Saxon stronghold to Norman castle it had grown and prospered, and the people of Windermere Fold had prospered as well. Even the last five years of unease could not stifle that prosperity, and she took heart at that. Most certainly Sir Corbett of Colchester would not.

The decision was suddenly easy: she would run to Burgram Abbey. She could delay the wedding in no other way. She knew that if her father came for her, the abbess would not shelter her overlong. But Sir Corbett was a proud man-arrogant if the truth be told. It would humiliate him before all the gathered n.o.bility if his bride did not appear for the wedding. And perhaps, just perhaps, he might abandon this plan in disgust.

Lilliane wiped away the last of her tears. It was not much of a plan, she knew. But it was all she had. And somehow, just having decided on a course of action restored her spirits considerably.

As she had when she was young, Lilliane took a deep breath of the cool night air then rested her palms on the corbeled wall and leaned far out over the edge. Below her was the green water of the moat, and if she craned her neck a little farther she would be able to see the great block of stone that was said to have been the earliest part of Orrick Castle. But she was prevented that view when a hard-muscled arm grabbed her without warning and yanked her roughly from the parapet.

"What do you contemplate, woman!" a harsh voice demanded. "Would you burn in h.e.l.l forever rather than be wed to me?" Then she was spun around and subjected to Sir Corbett's furious glare.

In a rage she tried to shake off the heavy hold he maintained on her two shoulders. But she might as well have tried to tumble the castle walls down for all the effect she had on his grasp.

"Unhand me now, you vile blackguard! Am I to be allowed no privacy at all?"

"Not until after we're wed and you've produced an heir," he retorted through clenched teeth. "I'll not have you spoil my plans with some foolish idea of throwing yourself from this tower!"

"Throwing myself?" Lilliane sputtered with indignation. "You flatter yourself overmuch if you think I'd end my life on your account. I plan to be quite alive and quite well for many, many years after you're gone from Orrick!"

Perhaps it was that he expected weeping and hysterics from her. Perhaps it was that he was amused by her angry reply. For whatever reason, Sir Corbett slackened his grip on her, and she immediately pulled away from him. The look-over was not large, and his presence there made it seem even less so. In the darkness Lilliane could make out very little of him, but she could tell by his rigid posture and clenched hands that he fought to contain some mighty emotion. Every muscle in his powerful body seemed tensed as if for battle, and she cringed inwardly. But the very fear he inspired in her fanned her anger anew. She would not allow him this power over her. She would not!

"Now that you've 'saved' me from myself," she began in a sharp, sarcastic tone, "you may leave. You have no reason to be here anyway."

"Oh, but I do," he answered in an equally biting tone. "It's my responsibility to know every crook and cranny of Orrick. I felt the rush of air up the stairhall and so I came to investigate. Since we are both here, however, I suggest we make the most of it."

"I cannot determine a single benefit in spending time with you!" Lilliane spat in anger. "You're greedy and arrogant. You're suspicious and you jump to conclusions when you've no cause!" Incensed, she turned to leave. But Sir Corbett was quicker and with a swift movement he caught her by the arm.

"You have much to answer for, Lady Lilliane," he said with a menacing growl. "You've searched my belongings in the guise of a serving wench. Then you maintained that farce throughout my bath for some unnamed reason. Now I find you perched over the moat seemingly bent on leaping to your sure death." He arched his scarred brow and peered at her as if she were some strange, never-before-seen creature. "Are you mad? Is it for that reason your father has been unable to see you wed?" He shook her until her teeth chattered in her head. "Is it a mad wife I must suffer to have Orrick?"

Tears had started in Lilliane's eyes when he finally released her. She would dearly have loved to throw any number of insults and accusations at him, but she feared her voice would reveal how distraught she was. He wanted Orrick. Only Orrick.

Her knees trembled as she backed away from his huge shadowed form. "I am not mad," she vowed in a small voice. She reached for the iron ring to pull the door open. "But 'tis certain you must be, for to marry one who hates you and make your home among your bitterest enemies marks you completely without any wits."

She feared he would follow her as she flew down the steep stairs, for she knew she'd angered him terribly. It was only when the door to her own chamber was slammed closed behind her that she felt at all comforted. But not two minutes later she heard his tread at her door and then that of another man as well. Her heart leapt in panic but it turned in an instant to icy fury when he spoke.

"I've posted my most trusted man at your door, Lady Lilliane. He will keep you safe-and allow me to sleep without fear of you picking through my belongings. Or trying to fly!"

The evening had been bad enough, but his final poor attempt at jest was simply too much. With a cry born of both frustration and fury, she grabbed the nearest item at hand and flung it wildly at the door. But after the resounding thump on the oaken panel had quieted, there was only the sound of m.u.f.fled laughter. Then she heard Sir Corbett's steps departing and the other man settling himself against her door.

It was then that the futility of her situation finally hit home. In absolute despair, feeling more weary than she could ever recall, Lilliane sank to her knees on the cold stone floor. Unaware, she picked up the small copper bowl she'd thrown so violently at the door. Over and over she turned it in her hands, and it came as no real surprise that it had suffered very little for her anger. In truth, it seemed somehow ludicrously appropriate that only a tiny dent indicated there had been any trouble at all.

5.

EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING Lilliane shoved at her door, then shoved again even harder. It gave her great satisfaction when the large varlet Sir Corbett had left to guard her roused himself with a m.u.f.fled curse, then stumbled to his feet. With neither glance nor word did she acknowledge his presence as she marched regally past him, her slender nose in the air, her jaw thrust forward.

For his part, Sir Dunn seemed amazed at her haughty composure. Then as she made her way briskly down the stairs, he bounded up the steps; no doubt, she suspected, to inform his master of her movements.

As she made her way to the kitchens, Lilliane could only wonder at the speculation racing through everyone's mind. But she was determined not to speak of the matter to anyone, and the distant businesslike manner she adopted forbade anyone's broaching the subject of her wedding. Even so, she could not ignore the many looks sent her way. From sympathetic to indignant, to blatantly curious, the guests watched her every move, as did the servants. It would have been enough to send her in tears to her chamber had she not some promise of release from her fate.

But she did have that promise, and it kept her relatively calm. In the long hours of the night she had plotted and schemed. Now she was able to maintain her serene facade, even to the point of seeing the final wedding details attended to, for she knew she would not be at that wedding.

It seemed the only way. She knew Odelia and Sir Aldis were furious with Sir Corbett's sudden appearance at Orrick. They had obviously thought to control the castle, since Lilliane seemed unlikely to wed. But the arrival of Sir Corbett and his considerable showing of armed men had changed all that. Still, Lilliane was certain her brother-in-law would not meekly allow Sir Corbett to stay if his marriage to Lilliane should fall through. And even as belligerent as he was, Sir Corbett would not risk the censure that would follow should he take Orrick by force. Even the absent King Edward would not condone such action.

With a frown on her face, Lilliane concentrated on her task of calculating the quant.i.ty of food needed for the evening meal. She was determined not to worry about Sir Corbett's reaction to her flight. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Orrick Castle and the green northern half of Windermere Fold not be handed over to him so lightly.

She still could not fathom her father's reasoning in agreeing to such a union. Her father was a good lord, fair in his treatment of his people, astute in planning for their welfare. To bring such a warlike son-in-law to inherit the demesne would only guarantee discontent and strife. Lilliane could not imagine Sir Corbett bowing to her father's rule. Neither could she envision Lord Barton stepping aside meekly for his new son-in-law.

No, she a.s.sured herself. Any marriage between Orrick and Colchester would be a grave mistake. Between herself and Sir Corbett it was unthinkable.

With a flourish of her quill pen she made the final notation in the kitchen book, then lay that task aside. She had deliberately delayed her return to the great hall until she was certain all the knights would have completed their morning meal. Only one knight was she truly reluctant to face, but he might be lingering for the very purpose of a.s.suring himself of her continued presence-and continued good health-in the castle. But even if he was still there, she reasoned, it would only work to her advantage. For if he saw her busy about her daily tasks, then he might become complacent and her escape would be made more easily.

Resolute, she stood and shook out the flaring skirts of her close-fitting gown. The maize fabric was rich in its figuring and contrasted handsomely with the fine ivory linen of her kirtle beneath it. She was ornamented with no more than a gilded girdle around her waist and the simple net caul that held her heavy hair in a thick coil at her nape. However, as she made her way across the bailey toward the keep, she could not know how the morning sunlight turned her hair to deep red, nor how it highlighted the flush on her cheeks. But more than one head turned at her pa.s.sing.

When she entered the great hall, her anxious eyes scanned the room quickly. As she'd expected, only a few guests yet lingered over their meal. The others had all adjourned to the many and varied activities planned for their amus.e.m.e.nt. Servants scuttled around the hall, cleaning the tables, gathering the remains of the meal for the dogs, and returning the serving dishes to the kitchens. All was as it should be, she noted with the satisfaction of a good chatelaine.

Yet she felt a vague dissatisfaction she could not put a name to. Had she looked forward to another battle with the dreadful warrior knight? Had she antic.i.p.ated sparring with him and perhaps nicking his pride with her sharp accusations and insults?

She did not have time to decide for without warning William stepped from behind a broad column and she stopped, her heart leaping in surprise.

"Oh, my!" She gasped, aware that she was even more dissatisfied now than before. "You should not come upon me on such stealthy feet!"

"I feared you were avoiding me," he answered bluntly, his still-boyish face watchful.

"I'm not avoiding you," she exclaimed. "I'm not avoiding anyone."

"Not even the king's Bird of Prey?"

"The king's Bird of Prey? What do you mean?"

"Then you've not heard of his great exploits?" William's tone turned sarcastic. "Your bridegroom is a great friend of Edward's, or so the gossips in London prattle. Though it is true he rode with Edward in the East, I discount all the deeds I've heard credited to him."

"But ... the king's Bird of Prey? Why, Edward has not even been crowned yet."

"Exactly. He dallies in Normandy when he should have been here this year and more. England is a ship without a captain," he said in disgust. "But Edward sends Corbett, his hunter, on some errand," he added musingly.

"If Corbett of Colchester were truly a confidant of the king, uncrowned though he may be, why would he concern himself with Orrick? And me?" she added, doubt etched on her delicate features. "Surely Edward would reward him with a demesne more important than Orrick."

At that William's handsome face lifted in an odd smile, and he looked at her more closely. "Do not judge Orrick Castle so lightly, dear Lilliane. There are few English strongholds so secure along the border to the Scottish hills. While I judge our new king to be a fool to linger so long abroad, I do not completely discount his judgment. No, he knows what he is about. And Sir Corbett does nothing so much as serve his king."

"Then that is why my father so easily agreed to this abhorrent union!" Lilliane deduced at once. "It was done at the king's bidding!"

"Perhaps," William murmured, drawing nearer to her. He cast his eyes about, but spied only three servants busy at their tasks. "You should have been mine," he whispered more quietly. He took her hands in his earnestly. "I cannot bear the thought of him taking you to bride."

Lilliane blushed hotly at his bold words and sought to free herself of his hold. But he tightened his grasp.

"If there were but a way to avoid this marriage I would gladly seek it," she admitted.

"So you find his scarred visage hideous too. Many of the ladies at court were frightened by his brutal appearance, although there were a few who seemed perversely intrigued by his battle marks. I'm glad to see you number among those who would turn away from him in disgust."

Lilliane did not reply to this. It was true that Sir Corbett frightened her. But she could not put the blame for that on his ravaged flesh. Those marks she had found terrible, and yet not hideous. Unwillingly she thought of the three raking claw marks on his shoulder, and she felt the same shiver of horror and awe.

Unnerved by the memory, she peered at William, trying to drive Sir Corbett's image from her mind. Sir William of Dearne was an incredibly handsome man. Perfectly formed features and smooth, unblemished skin had kept him a favorite among women of all ages. And yet Lilliane did not feel the same fascination for him that she had once felt. There was a petulance to his lips now. Or had it always been there?

Frowning, she turned away from him and moved briskly to the ma.s.sive double doors. But he followed her. Before she could descend the few steps to the bailey, he stopped her once again.

"Lilliane ..." His blue eyes were direct upon her. But when her clear gaze did not waver, his fell away. He reached his hand to lightly caress her cheek. "This is not how it should have been for us."

"No," Lilliane agreed in a soft whisper, her heart heavy with longing for the past. "No, it is not."

By the time Lilliane had crossed the bailey to the rookery, she was fighting back tears. The doves rose in a flurry at her entrance, raising a swirl of dust. She watched as the birds slowly settled back upon their roosts. Like so many other things at Orrick, time had not changed the rookery at all. Many was the time she'd sought solace here from the heartaches of childhood. The soft cooing of the doves had always calmed her.

But even this soft rea.s.suring remembrance of times past could not ease Lilliane's troubled mind. With an angry gesture she dashed her tears away. It was not fair. It was not! She was denied even the luxury of mourning her lost love for William, for somehow he was not the same young man she had thought she'd loved. He had changed.

Or perhaps she had.

Lilliane picked up the hem of her kirtle to dry her face, heedless of the renewed commotion among the doves. Her thoughts tumbled disjointedly around her lost dreams, her crushed idealism, and the bitter truth of reality. Then it seemed reality was truly remorseless for a large hand caught hers, and she looked up into Sir Corbett's glowering face.

She gasped, she was so startled. But he did not allow her time to collect her wits. "So, 'tis William of Dearne you pine for. And to think I gave you credit for being a pure maiden."

"How dare you!" she cried in true shock. "You have no right to accuse me of such things-"

"If not in deed, then most a.s.suredly in thought," he cut in. "Do you deny your tears?" With his other hand he rubbed his thumb across her cheek, erasing the trail of one last tear. It might have been an intimate gesture, but the cruelty of his suggestion made it cold and insulting.