It had been nearly a month since the burning of the woodcutter's hut, and Leonie had ordered that no more of her people venture onto Crewel land. The man's troubles had ceased, hadn't they? If they had not, she might think that he wanted to marry her in order to end those troubles.

But since there had been peace for a month, that could not be his reason.

It was true she had a handsome dowry, but most alliances were made for the aid they would bring as well as for money, and her father's aid could not be counted on. So that was not the Black Wolf's reason. And the lord of Kempston had never seen her, so there was no reason to be found there either. Why did he want her . . . ?

Leonie gasped as Alain Montigny's words came back to her. "I must leave. I have heard enough about the Black Wolf to know I cannot stay and resist his taking possession of my land. He would kill me. He would not care that I am innocent of the crimes he believes me guilty of."

"What crimes?" Leonie had asked, frantic.

"What matter the crimes!" Alain cried. "The king has killed my father and dispossessed me so that he may give Kempston to his French mercenary, Rolfe d'Ambert, that black wolf of the devil's. No wonder he is called that! He is a ravaging beast. I was not even allowed a trial!"

Alain wailed.

Leonie was fired by Alain's rage. She had known him all her life. They had played together as children, and she had even thought of marrying him. But the weakness of his character showed itself as he grew older, and she knew he would not make a good husband. But they were friends, and the king's injustice was appalling—worse because Alain did not have the courage to fight for himself, and there was no one to help him.

"If you want to make a stand, Alain, you know I would call up my men."

"No," he stopped her nervously, "I know you would aid me, Leonie, but I cannot ask it of you. The Black Wolf is too powerful. He comes even now with his army to take Kempston. If the king were not behind him—"

He let the thought linger, as if the king were the only thing that kept him from fighting.

"Where will you go, Alain?"

"I have a cousin in Ireland."

"So far?"

"I must. If I stay in England, the Wolf will find me and kill me. It is true, Leonie," he insisted. "It is not enough that Henry has given my home to the Black Wolf. The bastard wants me dead so that I can never claim Kempston. I cannot tell you the stories I have heard of him, for they would make you fear your new neighbor. But you should know he is like Henry in that he never forgets an ill, nor relaxes a hatred. Step carefully with him, Leonie. Be warned."

She should have heeded Alain's warning and tried to be a peaceful neighbor. It was too late now.He never forgets an ill, nor relaxes a hatred.

A feeling of dread crept over Leonie. She had caused Rolfe d'Ambert trouble, and he had reason to hate her.

"You have nothing to do, Leonie?"

Leonie swung around to find Judith in her room. "There is naught that needs my attention, madame."

"I am glad to hear it. I was afeared you would balk."

Leonie smiled tightly. "As to that, madame, I can say only that the king's choice is not acceptable."

"I do not blame you, my dear. If I knew my future husband was interested only in controlling my land, I would not like it either."

So that was it! "You know that?"

"D'Ambert tried to buy Pershwick, you see. Of course William had to tell him he could not sell it, that it was part of your dowry. Then he asked for you, but your dear father would not give you to a man interested only in your land."

"My father refused his offer?"

"Of course he did. But you see what came of that. The man went straight to the king, and now d'Ambert will have you, will you nill you."

"No, he will not. I said he is unacceptable. I mean it. I will not marry Rolfe d'Ambert."

Judith's eyes gleamed for a moment. "But you will. In truth, I wish you had a choice, Leonie, but with the king involving himself in this matter, you must see you do not. It would break your father's heart to have to force you, but force you he would. He cannot ignore the king's order."

"I can."

"Do not be a silly chit!" Judith snapped, visualizing a scene between father and daughter that might reveal too much and ruin everything.

"Henry cares nothing for any wishes but his own, and it is his wish that you marry d'Ambert. Your father will not defy the king, nor will you."

Leonie jumped to her feet, her temper flaring. "Leave me, Judith. We have no more to say to each other."

"But we do," Judith replied grimly. "You will swear to me by all that is holy that you will wed the present lord of Kempston."

"I swear I will not!"

"Fool!" Judith spat. "You bring this on yourself. Richer!" Judith shouted, and the man Leonie feared stepped into the room. "You know what must be done," she told him. "Do not leave her until she has sworn."

With that Judith left the room. She went to make certain the hall was deserted and would remain so for a while. No one must hear.

Leonie tried to calm the wild beating of her heart, prepared to withstand the worst from this large brute. Long shaggy hair and a thick beard suited his rough manner. Murky blue eyes impaled her with a strange light, unnerving her badly. But it was Richer's slow grin that made her stomach turn over in terror.

Chapter 7

IN Crewel that night, a different kind of fear was taking its toll on Lady Amelia. She did not want to be sent back to court where she had been just another of Princess Alice's ladies-in-waiting, just another pretty face among so many. She had no power there, no control over her own life. She must forever dance attendance on the princess, do her bidding, suffer her moods.

A landless widow without relatives could expect few prospects. More important, Amelia had found being a wife not nearly as desirable as being a mistress. She had been her husband's mistress before they wed and her circumstances changed so drastically afterward that she was not at all displeased when he died. A man will not strive to please his wife as he does his mistress, for a wife cannot leave him, while a mistress can.

She knew, too, that the quality of lovemaking from a husband could not be compared with that of a lover. Perhaps the church had much to do with that, preaching that lovemaking was solely for procreation and not to be enjoyed. Amelia's husband had been an attentive lover until they wed, and then he looked on their joining as a duty and, like other duties, best done quickly.

No, Amelia was not fool enough to want another marriage, not even marriage with her current lover, who was the most handsome of all the men she had taken to her bed. But she also did not want to leave him. He might be abrupt, even prone to rages, but her position as Rolfe d'Ambert's mistress had turned out to be so much better than she could have hoped for. She was treated with respect, almost as if she were the lady of Crewel Keep. She had power here, as much as any wife would have, and she loved it. There was no other woman of rank here, only servants, no other woman she must answer to. Here there was only Rolfe, and he asked nothing of her that she wasn't willing to do.

But Amelia did not deceive herself over the situation. She had all that she wanted here, but it was only by Rolfe's will that she had it. When he finished with her and sent her back to court, there would be nothing she could do about it. All she could do was delay that time and wheedle as many trinkets and gifts from him as she could so that, when the time came for parting, she might be able to buy a house in London where she could sell her favors.

If Rolfe put her aside now, she would have to return to the princess or look for a new lover. She knew she would never find another one like Rolfe, a man willing to take her into his home. It was only because he was unmarried that she had managed that.

It was late when Rolfe entered his chamber and found Amelia ensconced in his large bed. She was not sleeping. She watched him as he crossed to the fire, now burning low. He had not looked her way, and the frown creasing his brow kept her from speaking. Was he thinking how he would tell her they must part?

"Come help me with this armor, Amelia. I have already dismissed that incompetent squire of mine."

So he did know she was there, and awake. The simple request told her so many things that she wanted to laugh. He had not forgotten her! He meant to join her in the bed. That he expected to do so on the night before he was to wed told her what he felt about his intended bride.

Amelia slipped from the bed. She did not reach for her bedrobe. She was a tall, statuesque woman, twenty-three, with a sleek body of which she was proud. She did not need to resort to hidden bindings to attain a stunning effect, even in the form-fitting clothes of the day. Naked, she carried herself proudly, her chestnut hair flowing down her back, her green eyes sleepily seductive.

Rolfe watched her approaching slowly. She saw the immediate effect she was having on him.

"Sit, my lord," she purred. "I am not tall enough to lift your heavy mail from you."

Bemused, Rolfe moved to a stool by the hearth. Amelia caught the hem of his chain mail and lifted it, then brought it over his head as he sat down. Some men remained in their armor for days when they were doing battle, and stank worse than an untended stable, but she had never known Rolfe to do so. He had an odor of sweat about him now that was a clean smell, his own smell. It was pleasant.

"You have been away several days, Rolfe," she said, adding a little pout as she bent down to untie his cross-garters. "I began to wonder if I would see you again before your wedding."

He grunted and Amelia smiled to herself. How much did she risk saying about the wedding? "Sir Evarard has been busy hunting for the feast," Amelia continued. "I myself saw to the cleaning of the hall, for your steward was too busy."

This was a lie. She never bothered with supervising servants, but Rolfe didn't know this. She wanted him to think she didn't mind that he was marrying, that she intended to help.

Amelia next removed his tunic and undershirt, but with such slow deliberation that Rolfe yanked her onto his lap before she could put the clothing aside. She feigned a squeal of protest, and he fastened his lips to hers in a heated kiss.

She felt his urgency, but was unmoved except to feel satisfaction in knowing he wanted her so badly. She leaned back from him, bracing her hands against his chest so he could not capture her lips again. "Then you do still want me?" she asked him.

"What fool question is this?" He frowned. "Does it seem I do not?"

"I was not sure you would, my lord, when I heard of your marriage."

She spoke very quietly, as though wounded.

"You need not concern yourself with that," Rolfe replied gruffly.

"But I must, my lord. I have been so afeared you would send me away." The tears sprang to her eyes, just as she'd expected they would.

"Why should I?"

Amelia nearly lost her whole campaign by showing surprise, but she quickly recovered.

"It is my wish to stay, Rolfe, but . . . your wife may have something to say about it."

"She will not."

"You must not be accustomed to women's jealousies if you can say that. If she knows that you favor me in any way, she will demand that I leave."

"She will demand nothing here," he stated flatly. "My will shall be her will."

"But you are not always here, Rolfe." Amelia pouted. "What if she is cruel? What if she beats me?"

He scowled. "Then she will be beaten. I will not have my people living in fear of their mistress."

That was not the answer she was looking for.

"But how can I protect myself from her wrath when you are not here?"

Amelia persisted.

"You concern yourself without reason, Amelia. She will not abide here.

I marry her for her land, no more."

"Truly?" She could not hide her surprise, and he laughed. "My dear, if I desired her, then I would have no need of you."

Amelia grinned, relief making her almost giddy. "On the morrow, there will be many guests here for the wedding. What do you tell them—

"

"That you are my ward."

She put her arms around his neck, rubbing her firm breasts against his chest. "Then my position here will not change, Rolfe? The servants must still do my bidding and—"