Cover

Dedication

For Lawrence S. Currie: my lover, life partner, and best friend.

Prologue

Dunbar Keep, Scotland—June 1395

“Marry what?”

“Not a what! A who. And as I have already said, the king would consider it a great favor if you would marry Lady Iliana Wildwood.” Lord Rolfe Kenwick glared at the Scot before him, silently cursing King Richard II for sending him on this quest. This was the second wedding he had arranged in as many months, the first being that of his own cousin Emmalene to Amaury de Aneford. He supposed he should be grateful that that wedding had been easy. This one was proving next to impossible.

“An English.” Duncan Dunbar grimaced in distaste at the idea. “Aye. ’Tis sure I am that he would consider it a favor fer me to take one o’ his pasty-faced cows off his hands. What is she, one o’ his by-blows?”

“You—” His temper finally snapping, Rolfe grabbed for the hilt of his sword.

“Nay.”

His sword half out of its sheath, Rolfe paused and glanced at the man who had spoken. Bishop Wykeham. King Richard had pressed the retired prelate back into service to marry Emmalene and Amaury. That chore done, however, he had not been allowed to return quietly to retirement. Nay. On their arrival at court to report the success of their mission, they had learned of another marriage that must take place in haste, one to protect Lady Wildwood. Oddly enough, to afford that protection to Lady Wildwood, her daughter must marry as soon as possible, and to someone who lived as far from Wildwood manor in southern England as they could manage on such short notice.

Scotland had seemed the best bet. The problem was that they needed a nobleman who was not already betrothed and who could be bribed into marriage. There were few men like that around. Most of the nobility saw their children betrothed ere they were walking. The only man who came close to fitting their needs had been Angus Dunbar, the aging widower and clan chief of the Dunbars.

Unfortunately, Angus had made it more than clear that he had no interest in remarrying, no matter what was offered as an incentive. Just when Rolfe had thought he would have to return to his king in failure, the old man had suggested they make the offer to his son, Duncan. Nearly thirty though he was, he was still unmarried. His betrothed had died young, and rather than arrange another match for his son, the Dunbar had left it for Duncan to tend to in his own time.

“Nay,” Bishop Wykeham repeated now in answer to the Scot. “Lady Wildwood is the daughter of a wealthy baron who died while in service to the king in Ireland.”

Sighing, Rolfe let his sword slide back into its sheath, adding, “She has a most generous dowry.”

“Hmm.” Duncan’s lips pursed in obvious disappointment. “How generous?”