If only Richard could have foreseen the future, he might have warned Edward of George’s lack of scruple, for, as the fable goes: a leopard does not change his spots.

Instead he went straight back to London to give Anne the good news, but not before securing Edward’s signature to petition Rome for a papal dispensation allowing the marriage between the cousins, who shared two sets of common ancestors.

“I care not one whit about dispensation, Richard,” Anne said, happily, in the cloister of the sanctuary church of St. Martin le Grand a few days later. “We will receive it eventually, just as George and Isabel did, but I beg of you, let us be wed tomorrow.”

Richard chuckled at her enthusiasm. “What, no special gown? No elaborate ceremony? No nuptial feast? What kind of woman are you?”

“One who loves you and has since I first saw you.” Her disarming answer made him encircle her waist and draw her to him. “I have dreamed of this day for too many years, Richard.” She paused and gripped his velvet jacket tightly. “Especially that awful day when my father made me plight my troth to Edouard. It feels as though I have held my breath from then until that day you rescued me from my misery in the tavern kitchen. I am finally alive again, thanks to you.”

Richard pulled her onto a bench and took her hands in his. “I shall do my best to make you happy,” he told her, “and if there is aught I can do for you, you have only to ask.” He wished with all his heart he could offer something more than brotherly affection, but for now, that would have to suffice. Anne seemed no more than a child needing his protection. And his heart ached for Kate.

“Take me back to Middleham,” she begged, “I have no desire to live in London. It does not suit me.”

Relieved she had not requested a declaration of love, Richard readily granted her wish. “I, too, feel like a dog up a tree here, and to breathe the clean air of the dales again is perhaps what I need to banish the foul stench of dissent between George and me. Aye, we can live in Middleham.”

He was startled when Anne loosed her hands and, putting them either side of his face, drew him into a hungry kiss. Her lips parted, inviting him into her mouth, and thus taken unawares, he found himself responding. When they separated, Anne blushed and hung her head.

“Forgive me, Richard, but I simply could not wait, for, after these last two years, who knows what life has in store for me. I hope you are not ashamed of me?”

Richard laughed out loud for the first time with Anne. “I do believe the mouse has roared,” he marveled, reaching for her hand and kissing it. “Far from being angry, I am much in awe. I fear there is a touch of wanton in you, Anne,” he teased, and she blushed again.