The morning air hung damp with dew and alight with the risen sun. Gavin breathed deeply as Rule trotted across the drawbridge toward the forest. Once past the guards at the entryway, he gave the horse his head and the stallion leapt into fluid motion.

Hooves pounded and the fresh air blasted into his face as Gavin urged his mount on. Over a creek and around the bend of a pathway they flew, startling pheasants and gray hares from their hideaways. His bow and quiver hung over his shoulder, but he was not yet ready to put them to use. For now, he needed to ride...to put distance between himself and Whitehall and all that it held.

He rode at breakneck speed, but it was not enough to put the images from his mind. He'd nearly kissed her last night. He'd wanted to touch her and he had...but it had taken every bit of restraint to keep himself from pulling her to him and into his arms.

How could he dream of touching her when he knew she preferred a life with the Lord...and certainly would not relish a life with the man who'd taken that right from her. Madelyne deserved better than a man who lived only to kill, who dreamed only of violence upon another...who could not fathom a life without the need for vengeance.

He would never marry again. He'd remain alone, wreak his punishment upon Fantin, and then retire to Mal Verne to live until the king would call him to arms again. And thus and so it would be until he was too reckless and was himself killed.

And Madelyne....

Gavin pulled back on the reins. Rule trotted to a halt and they stood, silent and still in the wood that was devoid of birds singing and the crackle of animal movement. Silent and still, it surrounded him and closed his thoughts in upon him as he slipped his fingers into the pouch that carried the rose prayer beads.

Madelyne would find herself wed anon-as soon as he could find a suitable husband for her and the king gave his blessing. She would wed and bed him, as she so bluntly reminded him last night. Gavin's heart iced over as the images formed in his mind: of the apprehension that would be on her face, of large hands on her pale body, loosening her hair so that it fell to her hips, of a heavy figure poised over hers...of Madelyne kneeling in abject prayer on a stone floor-sobbing. His hands trembled on the reins.

If he did nothing more, he would make certain to select a man who would be gentle with her-one who would not destroy her serenity or her peace. One who would have sensitivity for the woman who would be a nun.

He cursed Henry for burdening him with this mission.

And then he cursed himself for creating it.

"Do you hunt with us on the morrow, Lady Madelyne?"

"Nay, Lord Reginald. I do not ride," she told him. "I had no opportunity to learn at the abbey...and, in sooth, I do not care for horses. They make me nervous."

He smiled kindly at her, covering her hand with his. "Lady Madelyne, I can understand that. Horses can seem like fearsome creatures...but in truth they are not. They need a gentle hand and can be as tame as a kitten."

She looked at him with skepticism. "Aye, as you say. I will choose to believe you, but will remain admiring horses only from a distance."

Reginald chuckled and tightened his fingers over hers. Madelyne gently pulled away from his grasp under the guise of raising her goblet to drink. She didn't know how to feel about his overt attention, and was even less certain how to act when he flirted with her.

Lady Artemis sallied over and found a seat next to Reginald. Madelyne greeted her politely, but held her breath as she waited to see whether the cat's claws were extended. "Good evening, Lord Reginald. We have missed your presence in the queen's court as of late. Will you be hunting with us on the morrow?"

If Madelyne had felt any sort of possessiveness toward Reginald, she would have felt the hair at her nape rise as Artemis looped her hand around his arm. As it was, she took notice, but had no reaction-likely to the other lady's dismay.

He glanced at Madelyne. "I have not yet decided."

Artemis raised a black eyebrow into a dark slash. "And you, Lady Madelyne? I should love to see you ride."

"Nay. I do not ride, Lady Artemis, as you may have surmised." Meeting the double-edged comment with acknowledgement of its slice was her only defense at this time.

"Lord Gavin is a fine rider," Artemis added shrewdly. "He is known for his ease in the saddle."

"Is that so?" Madelyne could not explain why the mere mention of the man should make her heart pick up speed. "Then I am sure he will be on the hunt."

"I am sure he will...." Artemis let her voice trail off as she looked pointedly across the room.

Madelyne followed her gaze and saw then the meaning of her words. Gavin sat, tete-a-tete, with the woman named Lady Therese: heads together, and bodies close enough that their shoulders brushed. As she watched, he tilted his head at something she said and gave as much of a smile-and a bark of laughter-as Madelyne had ever witnessed on his stoic face.

Strangely bereft, she turned back to her companions and smiled, determined to make light of it. "Mayhap he will have better luck in the wood on the morrow." Then, suddenly exhausted, she placed her hands on the table. "I am tired and will retire to my chambers now."

Reginald rose immediately and assisted her to her feet. "Lady Artemis, please excuse us. I will escort Lady Madelyne to her chambers."

"Nay, my lord, that will not be necessary," Madelyne protested, feeling the heavy weight of Artemis's stare now upon her.

"But of course. You cannot traverse this court without escort, and as your customary guard dog is otherwise occupied, the pleasure shall fall to me."

Madelyne acquiesced, only because she was too weary to argue, and walking alone through the dark warren of halls did not appeal to her.

Reginald offered her his arm, and she took it, wrapping her hand around his elbow as she had done with Gavin the night earlier. Reginald's shoulder rose a bit higher than Gavin's had, and his forearm was less bulky and warm, Madelyne noticed as they made their way down the halls. She took care that their bodies did not touch as they walked, and noticed that his stride stayed in check so that she nearly matched his steps.

When they reached her chamber door, she was surprised to find Jube still in attendance. "Good evening, Jube," she said with a nod. "I bethought to see Rohan here by now."

Jube bowed from his immensely tall height and responded, "He should arrive anon." His attention flickered to Reginald. "Where is Lord Gavin?"

"He remains in the hall," replied Madelyne lightly. "Lord Reginald kindly offered to see me here in his stead."

She began to open the door, but Reginald gently stopped her. With a glance at Jube, he said quietly, "My lady, 'tis unseemly that I should enter your chamber alone with you...but 'tis near impossible to have a private conversation with this giant hovering nearby."

Startled, Madelyne glanced at Jube and saw that he was sidling toward them. Looking back at Reginald, she saw the earnestness on his face, but also determination in his eyes. "Mm...Jube? Would you please step down the hall a trice? I should appreciate a bit of privacy for a moment."

He glowered in surprise, but complied, stepping away just far enough that he was out of earshot-she thought-but close enough that it could barely be considered private.

"Yes, my lord? What is it you wished to say to me?"

Reginald stepped closer to her, standing so that his back blocked Jube's view of Madelyne. She felt enclosed by him, with the wall behind and Reginald between her and Gavin's man. "I have heard that the king wishes you to wed," he told her. Taking her hands, he raised them, looking down seriously at her. She felt neither threatened nor apprehensive...just curious and more than a bit shy as he continued, "I have decided that I will place my suit for you to the king. If I am granted thus, we will wed." He pressed his lips, soft and gentle, onto the back of her hand.

Madelyne's heart thumped harder. "I was to be a nun," she told him. "But I was brought here to the king for another purpose."

"You will make a fine wife," he replied, in an echo of the same words Gavin had used the night before. "I wished only to tell you that I hope you will be mine."

Frustration rose within her. Was this how it was to be outside of the abbey? All of her life's decisions made without regard for her feelings and desires? Lord Reginald was a comely, gentle, kind man...but he did not seem to hear what she said.

Did any man ever hear what a woman said?

"It appears I have no choice in the matter," she told him, reminding herself of that as she spoke. "I can do only what the king requires of me, and all I can wish for is a husband who will have a care for me."

Reginald stepped closer, brushing a hand over her cheek. "I vow, if the king shall approve my suit, I will have a care for you, Madelyne. And I will court you and woo you so that you won't regret that you didn't take your vows."

She nodded. "Aye, Lord Reginald. I thank you for your kind words." Pulling away, she turned to grasp the handle of her door, noticing that Jube had somehow inched his way close enough to hear their words. She wondered how much he'd heard, and then realized it didn't matter.

"Good night, my lady," said Reginald as she opened the door.

"Good evening, my lord. Good evening, Jube," she added.

Madelyne pushed into the chamber, closing the door behind her, and turned to see Tricky pacing the floor, muttering in agitation.

When her friend saw that Madelyne had entered, she froze and crossed her arms emphatically over her chest. "Good evening, my lady."

"What is it that ails you, Tricky? Where is Peg?"

"Peg is supping with Lady Judith's maid Onda. I returned to the chambers to await your return, and to have a word with Clem-only to find that he has cried off and asked Lord Mal Verne to relieve him of the duty of guarding you." Her full lips firmed into a tight line.

Madelyne looked at her in surprise. "But 'tis Jube for whom you have a care, and who has taken Clem's position. Does that not please you?"

Tricky snorted and moved to stoke the fire. Even in the summer, the castle chambers were damp and cold at night. "Of course. I do not miss the grumblings of that malcontent Clem when I step out of the room. But I had aught I wished to speak with him on, and now he is gone."

"Certainly you can send for him if your need is that great," Madelyne replied, shaking her head. "Tricky, I do not understand why you are so overset."

The plump maid collapsed on a stool. "I meant to talk with Clem upon my return, but he wasn't here." She stood just as abruptly as she'd sat. "I'm sorry, my lady, for burdening you with my silly complaints when you are waiting for my assistance!"

She began to help Madelyne disrobe, chattering all the while. "'Tis said that you are to be wed anon," she said. "All of the court speaks of the shy woman from the abbey who will have a husband chosen for her."

Madelyne felt the coldness settle over her again, and sat slowly on the stool recently vacated by Tricky. "Aye, my friend. It appears to be so. The king will not allow me to return to the abbey, and he has decreed that I must wed. I have prayed long and hard over it-you know that, Tricky. Yet, there appears to be no way other than to abide by the king's wishes." She felt the weight on her head lessen as her maid pulled the pins from the coils of hair and they opened, falling straight.

"My lady...you have agonized long over what you cannot control. You must embrace your new life with a bold face and courage."

"You have the right of it...and deep in my heart I've come to believe that is what God expects of me."

"Aye, the matter has been taken from your hands by the king-the highest power on this earth other than the pope. You are right to believe it is God himself who pushes you in that direction. You are not meant to devote your life to Him. I know now that I am not meant to either." Her last words were softer, but firm. "I will not return to the abbey, Madelyne. Indeed, I should wish to remain with you for as long as you desire-in whatever capacity you wish."

Madelyne turned in her perch on the stool, looking up at the befreckled face of her companion. "Tricky, of course you may stay with me. Indeed, I am gratified that you should wish to...and I will relish having a friend rather than a maid at my side." She reached for her hand and squeezed.

Patricka smiled, tears springing to her eyes in big, large drops. "Thank you Madelyne. I am meant to be your maid, though. I hold no title and have no other attribute to commend me. I truly wish that, for you are a friend as well as a mistress."

"Indeed. As you wish-but you must call me Madelyne when we are alone. I do not wish to have that distance between us."

Tricky hugged her from behind, then returned to the task at hand. "Now, Madelyne, tell me what you feel for handsome Lord Reginald. 'Tis said throughout the court that he woos you and presses his suit to the king. There are others who would do the same, you know, but he is the most vocal. 'Tis believed that he would be a good match for you."

Madelyne swallowed back the lurch of her heart into her throat. "Lord Reginald has said the same. I do not know what to think. He is kind and gentle. I don't wish to wed, but if I must-which I know that I must-it would not alarm me were he chosen."

"Has he kissed you yet, my lady?" asked Tricky mischievously.

"Kissed me? Of course not."

"Oh." Tricky sounded disappointed. "I was certain he had. Do you not wonder what it would be like to be kissed by a man? I wondered for so long, and now it has been by two men I have been kissed in this last fortnight."

"I do not wonder what 'twould be like, as I have been kissed." Madelyne stood to slip her sleeping gown on. Then, realizing what Tricky had said, she added in surprise. "Two men? Tricky, you have been kissed by two men?"

At the same moment, Tricky paused from tying the back of Madelyne's gown to peer around into her face. "If Lord Reginald has not kissed you, then who has?"

Blood rushed to Madelyne's face. "I should have said nothing," she stammered. "'Twas foolish to speak of-it meant nothing. Who is it that you have kissed besides Jube?"

"That naysayer Clem," Tricky said in disgust. "But that was long since passed, and he has been naught but rude and edgy since then." She sighed, then giggled. "Poor man...he does not know that he is meant to wed with me, so he fights his desires. He believes 'tis Jube I love, and I have half a mind to let him think so betimes-the man is so thick-headed!" Even as she spoke, Madelyne saw her reach for the wormwood comb that Clem had bought her.

"You are going to wed with Clem?" Madelyne asked, glad to have deflected Tricky's interest in her own kissing experience-and bewildered by her friend's sudden change of heart. "Were you not complaining what a malcontent he is? Were you not grousing that you do not wish even to speak with him?"

"Oh, aye, but 'twas only because I was angry with him, you see...the man does not know yet that we will wed. He believes only that he is annoyed by me...little does he know that 'tis love he feels and does not know how to scratch that itch!"

With a little frown on her apple-cheeked face, Tricky resumed her duties and began to drag the comb through Madelyne's long tresses. "'Tis glad I am that Jube kissed me too, else I would never have known that Clem-the oaf-is the man for me."

"What do you mean?"

"'Tis in the kiss, Maddie. Do you remember what Peg said-'tis by the kiss that you will know. And he will know too-the kiss that makes your head spin. Jube's kiss was nice and pleasant, but it stirred my insides little more than a wisp of a breeze...but Clem...ohh, Maddie, 'twas like I was caught in a storm on the ocean and could not find a secure holding for the life of me...and I became hot and fluttery...." She yanked too hard with the comb, pulling a short yelp from her mistress. "I am sorry, my lady!" she apologized, and silence ensued as Tricky concentrated on combing her hair without balding her mistress as Madelyne mulled over her friend's words.

Then, as Tricky replaced the comb on its table, she turned to look at Madelyne. "Who is it who has kissed you if it was not Lord Reginald?"

Again, heat swarmed Madelyne's face. "Nay, Tricky, I do not wish to tell. It was nothing."

"You must tell me Madelyne. I want to know!" Tricky planted her hands on her hips and stood in front of her, glowering. "If I am to be your maid, I must know all so that I can advise you and look out for your best interests."

Madelyne, though not convinced by her maid's argument, drew a deep breath. Part of her wished to tell...someone. "Lord Gavin. 'Twas Lord Gavin."

Tricky squeaked in shock. "Lord Mal Verne kissed you?"

"Be still!" Madelyne snapped, looking toward the heavy door. Could Jube-or Rohan-hear what was being said?

"Lord Gavin kissed you?" Tricky had lowered her voice, but now stared at her assessingly. "I should never have guessed that, my lady. That puts quite a different light on things."

"What?" Madelyne asked. "What do you mean?"

But Tricky did not reply; just looked at her shewdly, brows crinkling and lips settled firmly, nodding her head as though some great mystery had been revealed.

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